in five days

In the last five days I have: -Hosted an American-Armenian friend whose language skills betray the second part of the title but who’s dinosaur shirt and blue tights screamed the first. -With said friend*, munched gobs of fresh fruit in the crumbling form of an old bathhouse at the 1000 year-old ruins just outside of town. -*Commited to hitching back from said ruins.  Surprised at the first takers: a couple bouncing along in their horse and buggy.  The metal shell of the the buggy had clearly held manure not too long ago.  But what’s a little manure between friends? -*Made…

two of them!

Last week found me moving between three cities, meeting new friends and hugging old ones.  And by “old ones” I mean my Peace Corps friends who are now more than a year-old.  My Peace Corps service is nearly half-way over.  [head spins] And by “meeting new friends”, I mostly mean that I met my new sitemates. I have sitemates. Two of them.  Two Americans coming to live in my town.  This really changes so much about my Peace Corps service.  I spend so much of my time in my little Armenian bubble up north.  I get out about once a…

beerscum and line-dancing

Last week was spent mostly in a old blue Ford van with mismatched seats and a metal blue ceiling.  It snowed for most of the week (yes, snow in APRIL… no, Texans don’t DO snow in April).  The warmth inside the van caused streaks of condensation to end with tiny drips on our heads.  I looked over at one of the kids in the van and said, “The van is crying because it’s snowing outside.” You would think that Snow In April would be enough to ruin an entire week, but really the truth is it was one of the…

birthday in armenia

A couple of days ago I started a new year of life.  My friend emailed me, said she was excited to be celebrating my 30th birthday with me.  Had I known she was joking, I’m not sure it would have made a difference in my flipping out on her.  Turns out that I’ve been around long enough that my proximity to 30 bothers me.  Or perhaps the idea that my twenties are progessively slipping away is just giving me the willies.  But many people have sad many more interesting things about growing older, and to be honest, barring catastrophe I’ll…

Is it mostly to do with food? Very likely.

Yerevan is a completely different country.  Walking along sidewalks that stretch out between tall buildings.  Grabbing indian food, mexican food, and Wetzel’s Pretzel’s. Dancing. Cafe-ing.  Things are clean.  The temperature is so much warmer.  Mannequins hold relaxed poses in city clothes.  The staring is much less frequent. My friend Zoe says that I speak differently when I’m Yerevan.  I’m relaxed; my conversation leans away from worries, leans into quick wit and joy.  I blame it on samosa-related endorphines gathered in our favorite indian restaurant, Karma.  Or it could be the quesadilla at Cactus.  Or it could be the pile of…