privolnoye

Another visit to a village.  Another incredible time with an incredible family which feels like some kind of gift I do not deserve.  But what to do but completely soak it in which, of course, is what I did. This time another PCV and I, plus a Latvian friend of mine from the European Volunteer Service, headed to Privolnoye up in the mountains near the Georgian border.  We met Ruzana, an ethnically Russian woman who returned to her village after a disheartening time trying to make a life in the capital city.  Ruzana runs a hugely successful children’s club which…

my jeans are happier

Today, for the first time in 440 days, I washed (some of) my clothes in an actual washing machine (as opposed to hand-washing and later  my trusty Riga-8).  Some PCV’s have actual spinning, see-the-suds-through-the-door machines.  I don’t and was thrilled at the prospect.  I was not. however, prepared for what happened next.  After washing them, after they had been squeezed to non-drip perfection in the mystical centrifuge, I put them in another futuristic dream-land contraption: A DRYER. I even used A DRYER SHEET. Y’all. I was a little afraid my clothes would break the machine with all the dirt that…

mold tastes like dirt and ghosts eat cake

Spring Chicken is quite upset with me.  It has been raining for a few days.  Rain makes mud.  Mud gets stuck in paws and then leaves stains on clothes and tracks on the office’s tile floor.  I am not allowed to keep her inside the cottage and bringing her mud ridden to work would be the end of her office life altogether.  So I leave her behind bars, and she screams at me and shivers in her little cage. Guilt is not a good way to start (multiple) days.  It is also little use to follow them with days of…

i’m going to have skin on my hands again (thanks riga-8!!!)

Ok… exaggeration.   However, once I lived in a blessed land of spin cycles, in a land where piles of warm laundry fall around you like hugs, in a land where I used to actually COMPLAIN (?????) about so called ‘Laundry Duty’.  For the last 10 months I have lived in the land of back-straining, skin-removing, break-a-sweat-over-scalding-water hand washing.  But not anymore.  Behold: Look at her.  My Riga-8, the old soviet solution to dirty clothes.  Peace Corps Volunteers refer to these as ‘agitators’ instead of ‘washing machines’, still skeptical of what that little whirpool of mirky water can accomplish.  The stars…

really gross and really upset and really glad that i can kiss and make-up in armenian

You will not see any pictures in this post, and once you read on, you will know that pictures are NOT something you want right now.  But first: I had one of those moments today. I’m walking home on a road I’d never walked before.  Raindrops are finding their way through my jeans.  The broken part of my umbrella is slapping me in the face with irregular rhythm.  And as I reached a long, wet stretch of road, I thought, “I really love my life.”  Because despite the weather (which hasn’t outrained it’s Spring Rain charm), I had the most…