There's a hole in our hearts.

Last week, us TEFL volunteers who got here in March had out first ever vacation. Myself and 5 other friends decided to get a BnB in Tbilisi, Georgia for the week and explore that beautiful city.

The week started out fantastic. While Armenia and Georgia are very similar in a lot of ways, they are also drastically different. Georgia has had a lot more opportunity for economic development than Armenia, and sadly, it shows. For vacation though, this meant comforts from home. I ate nothing but multiple Subway sandwiches for 36 hours. We had some drip coffee from Dunkin Donuts, and some frostys from Wendy's.

We also got to see a lot of beautiful architecture and some touristy sites in Georgia. The vacation started wonderfully, and then we got a phone call.

Wednesday morning we woke up to horrible news. The day before, one of the  volunteers in our group, Hanna Huntley, died in a car accident. Hanna was a Community and Youth Development volunteer. We all arrived together, trained together, laughed, cried, celebrated together.

I didn't know Hanna like I wanted to. I wasn't one of her closest friends, and we had just gotten to have some one-on-one conversations at our most recent training three weeks ago. I've found myself trying to justify my grief over this loss and worrying about how my grief might appear to others. That doesn't make it hurt any less though. That doesn't make this any easier to process.

Hanna was one of us. She was doing so much here. She was part of something important. I don't have the words for how it feels to have that cut short. I can't imagine what her family must be feeling, and all I can do is send every sympathetic and comforting thought I can muster in the universe to them.

Tuesday night, we had planned a large day of exploring Georgia. Wednesday morning, it just didn't seem possible. We sank into our comfy pjs and our couches, and we just sat. For awhile, none of us did anything. The 5 of us had a variety of emotions and reactions, but the one that was most prevalent was pure shock.

There's still so much of that shock. We made it back to Yerevan in time for the memorial service for Hanna on Saturday. I can't properly describe the light and creativity and warmth that was Hanna. I can't do it justice, and it just feels so wrong that the world has lost that. Hanna was undoubtedly a phenomenal volunteer. She was everything you would hope a PCV to be and more, and I believe she truly represented the best of America. The memorial service echoed that and the shared grief and vulnerability of all the PCVs, staff, and Armenians there was overwhelming.

Sunday I came back to my site, and many others went back to theirs. I didn't know how to do what came next. How do we just keep doing what we were doing when everything feels so incredibly futile and so much more important at the same time? I went back to work on Tuesday. Jumping back in felt overwhelming. The roller-coaster of emotions has been unreal, but we all made it through the week in one way or another.

For me, kids are fantastic in these moments with their innocence, naivety of the worst emotions, and simple joy. I've also found Armenians to have expressions of grief and an openness of pain and sorrow that I think I actually prefer to home. In America, we have sympathy and condolences, and of course those are appreciated to the utmost. Here, there are two phrases I've heard quite a bit. Ցավում եմ քեզ հետ․ (Tsavum em kez het.) Համբերություն․ (Hamberutyoon.) The first literally means, I hurt with you. It is the Armenian way of condolences and sympathy, but in my experience, it has been said with tears in the eyes of whoever said it. It is normal to show raw emotion here, even if that emotion is on behalf of someone else. If you need to cry, cry. No one will bug you, and it's okay.

The second word simply means "patience". I particularly have become attached to this phrase. How else does grief become more bearable? For all of the things we try to do and say to ease someone's pain in times of grief, usually the only effective thing is time. In recognition of that, Armenians simply remind us to have patience when we are grieving. This has particularly kept me going and been a constant reminder of my mental health mantra - "This is temporary."

For now, we are all just marching on. Many have reminded us that Hanna would want nothing more than for us to continue to give our best selves in our service to Peace Corps and Armenia. So that is the plan. Here's to you, Hanna. Your impact will live on through each and every one of us. Rest easy.

Being Sick Sucks Everywhere

Warning: Unashamed pity-party ahead.
There are very few times in my adult life where I've said the sentence, "I just want my mom," out loud. This is one of those times. I have the flu. The gross and painful kind that I don't need to go into details about. I also have a messy house, a rambunctious kitten who wants attentions, and a to-do list a mile long. The flu does not care, and I will admit it, I just want my mom.

Don't get me wrong, I have care and resources. The Peace Corps Doctors, who are unfortunately a 2 and half hour bumpy bus ride away, have supplied us with medicine. My counterpart has been calling me every four hours or so to make sure I'm still alive, and to ask if she can do anything. There are even pharmacies right down the block where I can get medicine.

Here's the thing, my brain function isn't top-notch right now, and speaking a difficult foreign language in a culture that handles sick very differently than my own and venturing into a cold house and then an even colder outside, seems unnecessary when compared to wallowing under my toasty warm sleeping bag.

I keep thinking of how I can put a positive spin on this and have less of a pity-party, but some days are just hard, and this, is definitely one of them. Being sick sucks when you're at home, but take away all of the comforts you may have had there, and being sick becomes a whole nother matter. Ah, Peace Corps, you truly are preparing us to handle anything. I'm sure I'll muster the grace to be thankful later.

On the plus side, I have lots of good things happening, too, that I will happily share with you all when my brain is not a fog. For now, I hope you all stay healthy, and hug anyone who cares for you when you are feeling sick.

With more love and appreciation for all of you wonderful humans than you know,
Emily

The Power of Vulnerability

This week I participated in a training initiative by Peace Corps Headquarters. The training was focused on inclusion and diversity and how our staff could do more to support our diverse volunteers.

I got to share a part of myself that I've had to hide in Armenia - a part of myself that includes a certain amount of risk here. Myself and 5 other volunteers were selected to share with all of PC Armenia staff, from custodians to drivers to the three American staff who head our post.

This was a moment of intense vulnerability for me. As I was facing this large group of people, the vast majority of whom come from a culture where people like me live in fear, I decided to hold nothing back. I shared, I opened myself up to questions, I allowed for misunderstanding, and gave my fellow Peace Corps Armenia people space to learn and be a bit vulnerable themselves.

My 5 fellow volunteers shared just as much of themselves. They talked about the experiences they've had in a country that is 98% homogeneous. I am white. I am the whitest of white. My ancestors include a spattering mix of European nationalities, all of which have their own specialized history of racism and prejudice. Sadly, I am what most of the world and especially Armenia see when they think "America." I don't have to defend my nationality, disclose my ethnicity, or ever answer the question, "Where are you REALLY from?" Hearing the intense experiences many of my fellow PCV's go through just because they don't fit this pasty, inauthentic view of America was a humbling and ghastly experience to say the least. Add to that the context of what's happening in our home country right now, and I was literally speechless at the vulnerability and enduring strength I got to see from my friends. 

(I really, really want to include a side-rant here about people who believe Americans with diverse heritage, latinx Americans, and black Americans are somehow "less American", especially since I see diverse PCVs selflessly representing the best of America every day, especially since they go through more tribulation and challenges overseas because they face this view not only in their home country, but also in many places abroad, especially since they face all of this CONSTANTLY, with no reprieve, and still freely give of themselves to increase trust and understanding across the world... But I'll avoid the full-on rant and leave it at this brief comment.)

This conference had a huge impact on me for multiple reasons. Firstly, I'm so happy that an organization I believe in is making strides to be better at producing equity and providing resources to those who need it. I also felt closer to those five other volunteers in this past week than I can properly describe. We all shared a deep part of ourselves with each other - our weakest and our strongest moments. That in itself made this week invaluable. The last reason is in our vulnerability, our PC Armenia staff was able to see beyond cultural differences, beyond what they don't understand, and just see people.

I think the best of Armenia comes out in its seeing of people. Do you owe money? No problem, I see you as a person and understand you're struggling. Do you need a break? Okay, I'll cover, I'm gonna need one soon, too. Does that tatik (grandma) need some extra time, extra help, extra space or an added stop for the hectic buses? No worries. The driver will wait, the younger people will give up their seats, the crowd will hold her bags, help her on and off, and the driver will stop where she needs. People care about people here.

So I feel I made an impact. Maybe that impact is really small in the long run, but many Armenians who object to who I am based off their culture, got to see a person - a kind of person most of them have never met before and definitely a person they haven't talked openly with. In exchange for my vulnerability, I received an overwhelming amount of support that I was in no way expecting. The amount of hugs and words like, "I want you to know I support you," was amazing. I really believe I even helped to move some minds a little further from fear and hate and a little closer to understanding. That, my friends, is the power of vulnerability.

Last note - PC Armenia knows the importance of being confidential with my identity. It is still important for me to keep certain parts of myself hidden from the population at large here. Please respect that in your comments, as this is a public blog. Thank you.

This feels insignificant right now, but here's a little update...

A week or so ago, my old boss and one of my best friends told me how much she missed working with me at camp this summer, and how much camp changed for her because I wasn't there. So many complex feelings ran through my head when I heard this. Part of me felt guilty for not figuring out how to more effectively prepare the person who took my job. A big part of me felt sad and mourned the first camp season in my entire life that I didn't get to see my revered peaceful place.  I am not too proud to admit that the part of me that selfishly wanted more responsibility at camp and never got it, was the tiniest bit comfortable with the fact that I was missed. 

I also yearned to see my friend and many other important people that I've never gone this long without seeing. I was perturbed with myself for not dedicating enough time to try to talk to my old staff this summer. I was frustrated with my lack of time, or maybe just time management, to talk to everyone I want to. However, I think the biggest feeling was this burdensome, inevitable sense of everything changing, substantially, outside of my control.

Since getting to Armenia, I have had so many conversations with people back home that I never would have imagined having in the past. I'm not sure what has prompted a lot of these changes, but I find myself saying things I wouldn't have said before. Maybe I am just missing home and feel like I need to remind people they matter to me. Maybe I'm being more open because it's more important now. Or maybe Armenia's blunt, straight-forward manner is changing me.

My friends are getting married. My family relationships are different. Old coworkers are moving on or getting promotions. Even my cat developed completely new habits. And I'm over here surprising people with changes of my own, not even realizing how it's all happening.

Tomorrow marks 5 months to the day since I jumped on a plane for the Peace Corps. This is also the first week that this new life I have has felt routine. For the first time, I've been waking up in the morning without having a small moment of wondering where I am and what I'm doing. I've been walking my 2.5 miles every day without thinking about what I miss at home or what I would be doing if I was there. I've been making decisions without thinking, "Okay Emily, you're in Armenia," before hand. 

Everything is changing, and Armenia is starting to feel like a home.

What a bittersweet feeling... I need this change in order to make it for the next 22 months. I like the fact that I don't feel like I'm constantly having system shocks anymore. In some ways though, I also don't want this change. I'm not Armenian, and there are so many things happening at home right now that remind me of that. Being overseas right now means I am the face of what's happening in America to a lot of people. There are so many questions every day about my opinions, and it is difficult to find the right answers. I don't want to give the wrong idea about America and I don't want to go on rants only about what America is to me, but I also want to have real conversations with the people I see every day. I'm sure finding the balance will be a process throughout the next two years, and maybe that new, cautious feeling would have helped me with this. It's too late for that now. I'm here for the long haul, and my brain has finally accepted that, whether I wanted it to or not.

So many times something happens and I think to myself, hey, you should write about that. Unfortunately, by the time I can actually sit down and write about something, the only thing I can think of is shutting my brain off and de-stressing. I hope I get better at making the time to write, so maybe next time you all can have some more substance instead of just my usual emotions explosion on a page. Until then, I'll try to keep my barely filtered brain-rants to a relatively short length at least. 

My final thoughts for today - feeling and noticing big, abstract changes as they are happening is a really weird sensation. Thanks for all of you who have stuck with me through them so far, and please feel free to enjoy part of this journey with me and make some changes on your own (and tell me about them!). It could be fun. I don't know if it's mostly good or bad yet, but at the very least, it's interesting.

Lessons in Water, Haircuts, and Cake

Yesterday, I was in Yerevan. I locked up all of my things (especially electronics) at a local hostel and ventured outside with some friends. It took about a five minute walk before a random teenage boy ran up behind me and dumped a bucket of water over my head. Shortly after, I was being ambushed by small children with squirt guns. Just in case there were any dry parts of me left, I was subsequently pushed into a public fountain where I continued to be dunked and splashed.

This is the glorious and sometimes hated holiday of Vardavar. Vardavar began as a pagan holiday and has morphed into a free-for-all, no one and nothing safe, day long, water war. It felt amazing for the most part as it was burning hot all day, but I started to sense some of the frustration from others when I daringly changed into dry clothes for the bus ride back, wrapped my phone and other electronics in about 20 plastic bags, and shortly after was ambushed by another squirt gun-toting teenager.

I don't have pictures because I knew my chances of keeping electronics dry were slim, but here's a picture from an Armenian news source that feels very representative of my experience. Feel free to look up Vardavar for more. It's as cool and maybe horrifying as it sounds.

When I got back to my site, my adult English Club was happy to see me. The meeting started at 6:30, but at 6:45, some members were still trickling in. We had 4 layer chocolate homemade cake at club because it was one of the student's birthdays over the weekend. I am so used to hearing, "You have to eat the cake. I made it, and it's tasty. Eat." Sometimes we have cake for their spouses' or children's or cousins' or acquaintances' birthdays too. I still can't figure out how I'm losing weight.

After club, it was a group effort to describe the haircut I had gotten over the weekend in English. One student started, "It's very special and very beautiful." A second student added, "It is interesting and nice." The first chimed in again, "It is not standard and interesting and beautiful." A third student contributed, "We like it a lot. We have not seen before." I congratulated the third student on using the present perfect tense correctly. That had been our lesson for the day.

My "not standard" haircut seemed pretty basic to me. I just guessed they weren't used to women with short hair and moved on with the conversation.

I went home and hugged my host family. "Where were you? Did you pass your time well? Our relatives came and we wished you were here. You got a haircut. Was Yerevan nice? It was probably too hot. Are you okay?" The flurry of questions and comments without allowing time for responses was their way of communicating love. The most loving statement for me came from Inga. After the gamut of questions and some mandatory eating came her simple statement of, "You are probably tired. You can have a rest." Her understanding the exhaustion I feel after a full day of being social and traveling is the most loving thing I can imagine.

Most people are honest here. They say exactly what they think of your haircut and if you missed some guests they wanted you to meet. They splash grandmas and foreigners and people carrying phones alike because Vardavar has always meant that everyone gets wet. They tell you when they think you need to eat and when you should just go to bed. My counterpart told me during my first week at site that Armenians weren't complicated people because they always said exactly what they were thinking and there wasn't ever any more to it. I'm still not sure I agree with that, but I'm definitely beginning to understand what she meant by it.

I only had a simple post for you all this time.

Լավ մնացեք։ (Stay well.)

Էմիլի

The Beauty Around Us

Life as a Peace Corps Volunteers is, at times, hectic. For my first three months, it felt like every moment was scheduled with training. Then I got to site, and it seems as if every moment has been dedicated to language learning, purposeful integration, or taking on any English club I can. It doesn't really feel like I've been in this new country, having this inimitable experience, for 109 days and counting.

A couple days ago, one of my fellow Volunteers pointed out that we are already an eighth of the way done with our service. While it's true there are times when I really miss things at home, that number shocked me. How could we possible be that far in already? Didn't I fly here just a couple weeks ago?

With these feelings of things going by way too fast and things simultaneously feeling incredibly slow sometimes, I decided to figuratively, and maybe a little literally, stop and smell the roses. I started looking around me for the simple beauty. Included in that is looking back at what I've already seen and done here. Maybe I can't describe precisely to you all what that's looked like, but I at least want to show you some of what I've seen. I am living in a stunning country, with breath-taking views around every corner and indescribable nature never more than a few minutes away. The pictures still don't do this amazing place justice, but here are some of my favorites. I invite you all to take a minute out of your busy lives and share this moment with me of enjoying some of the beauty this world has to offer.





If you want to enjoy the pictures in full size, click the middle of the pictures. Otherwise, you can just scroll through using the arrows on the sides.

It's The Little Things

What an adventure. I realize I should probably write more often so I can have shorter posts, but hey, this is all part of the learning process. If you don't have time to read all of this, I get it. Here's some of the highlights:
I officially became a Peace Corps Volunteer!
I got a new family. They're really cool.
I met my school director. She's pretty cool.
My counterpart who is super cool showed me the prettiest spots in Vanadzor.
I bought some stuff, successfully.
I felt my first ever earthquake! (A small one with no damage.)
I walked A LOT with some cool volunteers.
I found some inspiration.
I worked in the middle of some trees.
I taught some English.
And, of course, I received an amazing amount of support and encouragement from all of you.

So our swearing in ceremony was kind of a big deal this year. We are the 25th group of volunteers in Armenia, celebrating 25 years of service to Armenia, with the 1000th Peace Corps Armenia volunteer in our group. They made a big deal about it, and the ceremony was pretty cool. There was a competition for Armenians to write a song celebrating the Peace Corps' and Armenia's continued relationship. A group of our own A-25 volunteers did a beautiful performance. An amazing local band performed with a song they wrote just for us. A legacy video was created. There were dry ice fireworks, and a lot of important people.

U.S. Ambassador to Armenia, Richard Mills, giving me my Peace Corps Volunteer certificate.

The wonderful humans I got to spend PST with in Vanashen (our PST village). Included are the two wonderful LCF's (Language and Cultural Facilitators) who are the reason I can speak any Armenian at all and also a big part of the reason I've made it this far.

Here's the songs performed, and the link to the whole ceremony. I know all of the people in the music video, which is pretty cool, and I highly recommend watching the inspiring legacy video. I'll have more pictures up on my pictures page soon.

Peace Corps Armenia Legacy Video (Watch This One!) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m3ZFyBNXCMQ

Song and Music Video (featuring current Peace Corps Armenia Volunteers) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9K7ea8R9VBQ

Entire Ceremony - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4TKE0D_1NEg (I highly recommend watching at 1:30, 2:50, and 1:31:20 for the amazing musical performances!)

All in all, swearing in was a really nice day. I enjoyed it a lot, and topped it off with an American style cheeseburger from probably the only restaurant that sells them in Armenia. I have no shame in admitting cheeseburgers are near the top of my most missed food list.

After all of that excitement, I woke up very early the next day and packed up all of my things with my Peace Corps issue med kit, fire extinguisher, smoke alarm/CO detector, and water filter. We said goodbye to our PST village and families.

Then we got into vans for the treks to our new homes. We dropped a few others off along the way and it was a uniquely emotive experience. The other volunteers had become a type of security blanket for me over the past 10 weeks. They were familiar and like a touch of home as we were all adapting to this new culture together. I was the second to last one dropped off from my van, which meant I got to slowly say goodbye to a few people along the way. It was incredibly exciting to see their new homes, briefly meet their new families, and imagine all the wonderful things they were going to achieve in their new communities. It was also quite saddening as I was saying goodbye to people I had very quickly gotten very close with through this rare and trying mutual experience.

At the end of the road for me, it was only me and Lauren left. I cannot express how grateful and relieved I am that Lauren will only be a half hour away from me for the next two years. Also, our fantastic Peace Corps driver, Razmik, continued to show his thoughtfulness and kindness and voluntarily delayed his own day so Lauren could come in and have coffee at my house before she completed her own journey. My new host family was just as warm, welcoming, and comfortable as I remembered them during my site visit, and after a long week filled with lots of emotional turmoil, it was incredibly heartening to finally arrive at such an easy home. We've already had some great adventures and even more simple, cozy time just relaxing together (which is HIGHLY underrated, as you probably know if you've ever gone without that for a long period of time). Here's my new family (minus one).

From front to back: me, Heriknaz, Ashot, Inga, Mkhitar, (Syuzi not pictured)

Ashot and Inga are married, and Heriknaz is Ashot's mother. Inga, who speaks about as much English as I speak Armenian, says we are too close in age for her to be my host mom, so we all call Heriknaz my host mother. Mkhitar and Syuzi are Ashot's and Inga's kids. Mkhitar is 14 and very quiet. Syuzi is 17 and speaks amazing English (which is both super helpful and super bad for my Armenian learning) and is in Russia right now visiting her maternal grandparents. They are really chill people, which works perfectly for me. I cannot thank the Peace Corps Armenia staff enough for somehow finding the absolute perfect placement for me. I know a lot of volunteers aren't so lucky.

So my first week on site was a lot of getting to know both people and places. One of the very first introductory experiences for me was meeting the director of the school that is my primary assignment. This was just a tad bit intimidating for me as I knew three things: 1. My director could easily make or break my ability to accomplish things in my school; 2. Respect for authority is huge and vital in this society, and my director's opinion of me would directly impact literally everyone else's opinion of me; 3. My director does not speak any English. So after a few hours of waiting nervously for a meeting with my director, I walked into her intimidating office and sat in front of her big, intimidating desk, to meet her intimidating handshake. Fortunately, my counterpart was with me and had my back just in case things weren't going so well or my brain went on vacation and I magically forget every single word of Armenian I know. 

The really cool thing - none of the bad stuff happened! Side note - my director is one of the few female school directors I've heard of despite almost every single teacher in Armenia being a woman (not counting gym teachers obviously). Anyway, I successfully spoke Armenian with her for about fifteen minutes with my counterpart only translating about 3 words. This was a huge success!!! Not only that, but my director quickly assured me that if there was anything at all I needed, she would do everything she could to help. We soon discovered our visions for the English-learning students were aligned, and we both left the meeting with warm smiles, and, I think, some good old-fashioned hope for the possibilities.

Later in the first week, Mane, my amazing counterpart, gave me a tour of our city. We walked for about 3 hours exploring the city, talking, getting to know each other more, and discovering a sense of ease with each other. I also saw some really cool spots that will be featured in updates soon to come, I'm sure.

In case you couldn't tell thus far, I've been feeling a bit better since my last post. There's a couple other small things that have kept me going that I want to share briefly. First, I went shopping for some basics in our local amazing bazaar and successfully negotiated, in Armenian, with multiple different shopkeepers. I didn't pay the first asked price for a single item, there was a really nice gentlemen who empathized with my big feet struggle and helped me try on about ten different pairs of men's shoes just to find one that was my size and not overly masculine, and I made some connections with people who will remember my very American self and who will be helpful acquaintances over the next two years.

Next, I experienced an earthquake for the first time in my life! I am actually excited about this, and I want to preface that with the fact that it was a small earthquake with no damage or injuries. It was super cool, though! Our whole house rumbled for a solid 3 to 4 seconds. It was a good experience because I thought out a plan for where I would go if a bad one happened right after. Additionally, I was able to experience some of the helplessness of it. In 1988, a really bad earthquake completely destroyed a city about a half an hour from my placement. Needless to say, a lot of people in my city, including my family, were also affected. I can now understand a little bit more of what they must feel every time an earthquake occurs.

A couple days later, this pretty neat program organized by Peace Corps Volunteers came through Vanadzor. It's called Border-to-Border, and volunteers backpack from the northwest, the northeast, and the southern borders of Armenia and meet in the middle. They stop in a bunch of villages along the way and teach useful basic health information to local children. I walked part of the way (about 10km) with one group after they taught in Vanadzor. It was cool to experience part of it and learn from the PCV's who have been here longer than I have. I definitely want to do this program next year.

Still in the first week of my new placement, I happened upon some solid inspiration. I went to an English Club that another PCV asked if I'd be willing to help out with. The unique thing about this English Club is that it is primarily for Armenian women who work. A group of women wanted to learn English and had no prior knowledge. They reached out to a local volunteer about 8 months ago who told them they needed to find at least 5 members and be completely committed to showing up every class. These women self-organized, and have now grown to include about 20 women (with a few working men as well) and know enough English to make their way around in America. They have only met twice a week, with some breaks, for 8 months. These women work full-time jobs, clean, cook for, and take care of their families, and twice a week take an hour at 7pm to come learn English without any obligation other than their own motivation. Currently there is a young Armenian teaching the class who is fluent in English, but she has been accepted into an American college and leaves in the fall. The PCV who asked if I would take over was super insistent that I really commit and not let these amazing individuals down. He needn't have worried. I am enthused and inspired by this group. In my class are two doctors, the head investigator of my city's police force, three economics professionals (similar to CPA's), a child social worker, a school director, and many other impressive career professionals, who are all women. It is extraordinarily remarkable for a woman to hold any one of these jobs in Armenia, let alone still have a family, and self-commit to continuing their learning. If I did nothing else in my service but enable these amazing people to continue learning, I would feel accomplished. This is what will keep me going. This is everything.

Sometimes things can be overwhelming. I am in a new country, surrounded by a new culture, that I can't navigate super well in no small part because my language skills are limited. There's no way to just go back and be in America, so I found the next best thing. Meet my new work/escape space...

This is an amazing little hidden spot about a 15 minute walk away from my house. I have worked here for four hours without spotting a single other human being. Here, I can pretend I'm not an outsider, I don't have to struggle to understand things, and no one is going to stare at me. This is worth more than gold to me.

The rest of my time has been spent trying to get integrated into the community. That is, after all, our primary task for our first summer at site. I managed to miscommunicate with my counterpart during my site visit, so we are not having any clubs at our school this summer. That's okay though, because it has made me go out into the community and find clubs that already exist at local NGO's and IGO's. This is how that's gone. Step 1: Emily shoes up uninvited to observe random club. Step 2: Whoever is running the club makes a big deal about the American and has me introduce myself.

Step 3: Random American must have great ideas so let's put her on the spot and have her run any activity she wants right now! Step 4: I somehow come up with random activity at least somewhat vaguely related to what the students were doing.

Step 5: Students are super excited about different teaching style (aka let's pull this out of thin air teaching style) and the new shiny American person.

 Step 6: Whoever is running the club asks me to help out for future clubs.

This method has worked surprisingly well. The best part is I've formed some really great relationships with the other people in the community who are teaching English. Plus, it was a pretty awesome moment to see the pride on Inga's face when she got a phone call about how well I work with the students and how the club leaders can't wait to work more with me. She even asked me what the English word for հպարտ was so she could tell me she felt proud in English. It was a bonding moment.

Finally, I want to mention the amazing outpouring of support I received after my last not-so-sunny blog post. You all are outstanding, and I already know that I couldn't be doing this without you. In the words of our amazing Peace Corps Armenia Country Director, who is sadly leaving us soon, "The thing about the Peace Corps is the highs are really high and the lows are really low." There have been some of those lows in the past couple weeks still, but the highs have been a lot more noticeable too.

Thanks for always being there for me. You all are the best. I'm gonna try to change up my next post a bit, so stay tuned. Sorry for the length of this one!

Լավ մնացեք, իմ ընկերները։  Stay well, my friends.

Emily

Update: I added all of my photos from PST! Check out the pictures page!

It's All a Series of Ups and Downs

This week has been hard. Everyone warns you about the lows in your service. We get training on resiliency, coping mechanisms, and creating/using our personal support systems. The Peace Corps does their best to prepare you for the difficult times, but preparation can only do so much. (Warning: Don't read on if you're looking for a sunny, feel-good post.)

I want to start by saying I wasn't expecting to experience a low like this so soon in my service. Technically, I haven't even started my service until swearing-in tomorrow. I know there's no concrete timeline of highs and lows and no right way to do this, but I was trying to be optimistic. I want to clarify that I have not reached the point where I've thought about going home, and I am okay. I've had a tough case of 'the sads' for a bit, and some things out of my control have made this week hard. I've used those coping mechanisms though, and things will be back on the upswing soon.

Since I visited my permanent site, I have felt some distance from my PST host family. This could just be my own 'awkward transition feels' projecting on to them, or it could be that they are just super busy themselves with their own ups and downs of life. The cause could be any number of things, but the effect of it has been a little uncomfortable. I won't go more into it, but it has been a bit rocky. I've spent a lot more time visiting other volunteer families or being on my own in my room for the past week. It wouldn't be a big deal by itself, but it didn't exactly help anything else either.

Probably the biggest factor in my lower level of optimism was the fact that I was missing something big at home. For my scouting family out there, you probably know that this being Memorial Day Weekend means more than just a day off work for our family. Since I was 4 years old, me, Mom, and Dad, (and when we were kids, my brother, too) have gone up to our favorite scout camp, Owasippe, every Memorial Day Work Weekend (MDWW) and cooked all weekend for the volunteers who come up to work on camp improvement projects. At it's peak, this has meant cooking a meal for 350 people. It's hectic, exhausting, stressful, and also absolutely wonderful. I never thought I would miss not being there so much as the weekend is characterized by working non-stop from 6am (sometimes earlier) until usually around 12am. The food is amazing (we cook almost everything from scratch), so I was missing that. I was also missing the people I see every year and work well past the point of exhaustion with and for. My best friend has been coming for years with me to help out, and thankfully he is a saint and still went with my parents. However, last weekend I was thinking about them often, calling them quite a bit, and even took a few times to just worry and cry. I was worried about my parents and friends, and I also didn't want to be missing out. It was rough.

Here's a few photos for those of you who don't know to see some of the glory I was missing out on. Obviously, they aren't my pics. Photo credit to Karen Shamasko.

The last one is of my family and my best friend, Gonzo. I was missing them bunches. (Left to right: Gonzo, Dad, Mom, Broski)

In case my weekend wasn't perturbing enough, I also had my final language exam on Saturday. This meant lots of stress leading up to Saturday, and afterwards, I felt as if I didn't do as well as I was capable. I was upset with myself and having a hard time. I got my results yesterday, and after taking some time to contemplate, I feel okay about it. Still, I've felt like no matter how hard I work at this language, I have not been able to excel at it. In fact, I've been feeling like I haven't really had a space to do much of anything that I'm good at since I got here. When your main field of study is communication, and you can't effectively communicate, you are excruciatingly aware of all the other things you can no longer effectively do.

I've also been thinking a lot about my relationships with people at home. It feels as if I've left a lot of things unfinished. I've stepped out of my friends lives for two years. There's a couple friendships that needed work when it was time to leave, and now I'm not sure what will happen with those. A lot of my friendships are used to distance, but are built back up when we see each other, and we usually see each other at least a few times a year. I don't know where those will go. There's friendships that I was just starting to really build when it was time to go, and who knows if we'll be able to pick those back up in a couple of years. I know it's cheesy, but it's also a very real feeling sometimes. I'm sure most of my relationships with people will be okay when I get back, but that doesn't change the feelings of worry and sadness that I will have over the next couple of years.

The topping on the cake of my rough week was my favorite 3-year-old friend getting injured. I was playing with him at the time. My host family was incredibly insistent that it was no big deal and not my fault, but I felt at fault all the same. The little guy is okay now, and I'm sure it will be a funny story later, but it is emotionally taxing to desperately want to communicate sincere apologies and concern and not have the words for it. I ended up crying in front of my host family, which I did not in any way want to do, and all of my emotions from the last week seemed to want to come out. I ran away to my room, and thankfully Lauren was there and helped me through my emotional mess. It's just been rough.

Tomorrow is our swearing in ceremony, and I will officially become a Peace Corps Volunteer. Saturday, I move to my new host family in my new town and get to start doing things for the community I will call home for the next two years. There's a lot of things to look forward to, and I know that. Sometimes, we just need to be sad. In fact, one of my favorite parts of Armenian culture is the acceptance that everyone just has bad days sometimes. You don't need to cheer them up or fix it. They don't need to smile or be happy or pretend to be okay. If you're having a bad day, you can just have a bad day. So I'm accepting that this week was a Down, and I'm looking forward for the Ups to come.

Ուղարկում եմ բօլօրը լավ ցանկությունները և մտքերը ձեզ համար;
Oorgharkoom em boloruh lav tsankootyoonneruh yev mitkeruh dzez hamar.
I am sending all of the good wishes and thoughts to you all.

Emily

Our Personal Preview of the Next 2 Years

Last week we got our permanent site announcements, met our counterparts for the first time, went on a four day visit to see our schools, introduced ourselves to our new community, and met our new host families. Needless to say, it was a big week.

This is a picture of all of the A-25s on the map of Armenia where their new site placements are. I'm up near the top, but the cool part is I'm only 2 1/2 hours away from the capital, 20 minutes away from Lauren, and my site, Vanadzor, is stunningly beautiful.

Day 1 - Meeting the Counterpart (Saturday)
Us TEFL volunteers will be working with an English teacher in our schools for the next two years. This way, we are not only helping students, but we're helping teachers learn new methods to help their students for years to come. We were introduced to our counterparts Saturday, and then continued to have a full day of activities to get to know each other and figure out how to work with each other. There are some major cultural differences between Armenia and the U.S. Those differences are exaggerated when you compare ways of doing business, especially when that business is teaching. However, after spending only about a half an hour with my counterpart, I discovered she was probably the most open-minded, enthusiastic Armenian woman, let alone teacher, that I've met. When doing a blind activity where we had to write down our priorities for working together and then share it after, we both put student learning above all else at the top of our list. Other priorities we had in common included building the relationship between us and figuring out ways to involve and help the community. A few more similar activities later, and my counterpart, M, turns to me and says, "I think we have the same brain. We think in the same ways." From our planning habits to even bits of life philosophy, we melded surprisingly well. This is a big deal. The cultural differences between us are vast and many other volunteers went through a very awkward day of realizing those differences and navigating them to the best of their ability. I feel as if M and I spent the day realizing our similarities and being amazed at how similar personalities can sometimes come together across the world.

After a day of planning together, M and I hopped in her brother's car for the drive up to my site. Cue a two and a half hour car ride without a single bit of awkward silence. It was amazing. M talked to me in only English and asked that I correct her errors, while I responded in only Armenian and asked M to do the same for me. It was fantastic, and we even stopped on the way to see some local sites.

On the left is a cross that was put up in 2015 for the 100th year anniversary of the Armenian genocide. It is made out of 1,716 crosses, one for every year that Armenia has been a christian nation. They add another cross every year. On the right is the Armenian alphabet carved out of stone. I am standing in front of "eh" which is what my name starts with - էմիլի.

After our car ride and sight seeing, I arrived at my host family to find my new host mom speaks some English and would rather be more of my friend than host mom. My new host sister is 17 and speaks amazing English, which helps a lot for miscommunication problems. I also have a 14 year old host brother, my host dad, and his mother in the house (who I will probably be calling my host mom from now on).

Day 2 - Helping a Local Business? (Sunday)
I woke up in my new site, my new bedroom, with my new family. It was very comfortable right from the beginning. I had a chill morning hanging out with the family and then went to meet one of the local PCV's (Peace Corps Volunteer), O, who has already been at my site, and Caleb.

Caleb is in my A-25 unit and is placed in Vanadzor with me. I just got permission from him to include his name, but he is the C I've mentioned in previous posts. Caleb and I were in our very first Skype language lessons together back in the states, did our practicum together, were placed in the same village and language classes together, and now will be site mates. We joke that we can't get away from each other even if we try, but really, I'm happy that I've somehow been paired with someone who I've really enjoyed getting to know since January. I'm sure we'll get to know each other much better over the next two years, and I'm excited for that opportunity.

Anyway, Caleb and I met downtown and O, the volunteer already in site, brought us to a local cafe. He explained that he helped two young Armenians start up this business, and two months later, they were considering closing. O wanted us to help him sit down with the business owners and come up with a new business plan for them by calculating their losses and profits. About a half hour in, O discovered I was good with numbers, and set me to work. Later, he had to go, but asked if I would stay and continue helping. So I ended up sitting with these two business owners and going over the rest of their new plan with Caleb. It was actually a lot of fun and made me feel like I was finally doing something instead of just being trained. The best part was, about an hour in, O tells Caleb and I that we actually know the young woman we were working with. Her father is our driver for the Peace Corps and he takes us to and from training everyday. He is super kind and we were ecstatic that we got to help his daughter.

Days 3&4 - Observing my Counterpart and Exploring my Community (Monday & Tuesday)
As I observed M teaching, we continued to meld extremely well. The suggestions I gave my counterpart for more student-centered lessons were implemented by her the very next day. Peace Corps staff who has been training TEFL volunteers for years had never even heard of a counterpart being that responsive before. I know it is still early, but this has been an incredible start to my counterpart relationship. I was received warmly be the whole school and given lots of ideas for what the school wants and needs. I'm excited for all the possibilities there will be for improvement moving forward.

I also explored some of the local things to do. My host ?friend? (supposed to be my host mom, but actually calls her mother-in-law my host mom), N, works at the local American Corners. It is an amazing resource in our community, and the people there will be fantastic connections for me in the coming two years. They have lots of English books and movies to lend out, a modern facility, and host English clubs for kids who want to learn more and improve their English outside of school. I got to sit in on a club and the kids were incredible. I stayed after the club was over because N was getting off of work a little later and we were going to go home together. I spent the next hour talking in Armenian with the wonderful women who work there, while they taught me some new vocabulary and helped with my grammar. This will definitely be a valuable space for me in the next two years.

On Tuesday, our last full day on our site visit, Caleb and I met up downtown. I decided to walk from my house (only about a 15 minute walk to the main part of the city). Down the main street by my house is a beautiful park where you can sit at picnic tables or even use some old soviet paddle-boats on our little lake. This particular day, the view stunned me, so I tried to capture it for you all.

As if this wasn't amazing enough, shortly after, Caleb and I discovered a seemingly never-ending շուկա (shuka), which is basically a market with tons of open stalls. This shuka was incredible with tons of food, clothing, and other options at a third of the price of what was in the capital city. We literally went in the shuka on one end, got a little lost, wandered for a while, and came out on the other side of the downtown area. All Caleb wanted to buy was some shoelaces because one of his broke. We didn't know the word for shoelaces, but stopped in the middle of like four shoe stalls and tried to explain what we needed. The shopkeepers were all patient and eager to help, and after we all understood each other and had a laugh about the communication struggle, one of the shopkeepers just gave Caleb his choice of shoelaces. For free. He refused to take any payment. Later, I was trying to buy some cologne. It's very cultural here to be wearing smell-good stuff. This too turned into four or five people eagerly trying to help, with some communication laughter, and lots of kindness. It was all an unforgettable experience.

Overall, I feel as if I hit the site placement jackpot. My closest friend here, Lauren, is in a beautiful village about 20 minutes away from me. I'm sharing my site with a fantastic volunteer that I'm comfortable with. My city is small enough to be cozy, but big enough for some modern conveniences. My counterpart is amazing and my school is welcoming. My new host family is the most perfect fit I can imagine. It rains a lot, but the sun usually comes out and gives us a rainbow. I am overwhelmed with how grateful I am towards the people who had a hand in my placement.

Not everything is perfect, but many volunteers are facing more challenges with their new sites than I am. I have some guilt over the struggles some of my friends will face that I won't. I also have some regret that they will be challenged and forced to grow in some ways that I probably won't. However, I suspect I will face different challenges in time, and perspectives may change as we all really get settled into our sites. This also puts me in a position where I can offer support to the volunteers who need it, which I plan to take on as a very real responsibility. I contemplated posting all of this for awhile because I know there are other volunteers who are probably upset, worried, or anxious about their sites. I'm beginning to finally learn to take the good as it comes though and not worry as much about the things I can't control or the things that haven't happened yet. That being said, I am just going to be grateful for what I have and try to do the best with what I've been given, while offering any help I can to those who were given something different. At least that's the plan.

I will try to do a shorter update soon. This one was really long. Thanks for any of you who have stuck with it to the end!

Կարոտում եմ ձեզ և հուսով եմ որ դուք լավ եք։ Սերի հետ, Էմիլի։
Karotum em dzez yev husov em vor dook lav ek. Seri het, Emily.

I miss you all and hope you are doing well.
With love,
Emily

The Power of Food

Tomorrow I find out where I will spend the next two years of my life. Our permanent site announcements are tomorrow, and us trainees have been anxiously counting down the days and guessing at the possibilities for awhile now. Saturday we meet with our counterpart teachers - the Armenian teachers we will be paired with for the next two years. It's an incredibly exciting and nerve-wrecking week. Perhaps in acknowledgement of that, the Peace Corps scheduled an afternoon off for us today. It was a beautiful thing.

Today started normal. We had a four hour language lesson starting at 8:30am. Since we just learned what feels like 20 new verb tenses (realistically, it was like three), we toned back a bit and went over some new cooking vocabulary. I can now give an entire recipe in Armenian, which is exactly what we did in class to practice our new vocab. We were told to pick anything we liked to make, write down the recipe, and then tell it to our classmates in Armenian.

So I was sitting there thinking about all of the delicious foods that I want to make while I am here. I haven't been allowed to really touch the stove at my house or even wash a single dish. This isn't out of a desire to limit or belittle me. Instead, my current host family is determined to treat me as a guest until I leave, and cooking and cleaning are always seen as labor. Let me tell you, when you're not allowed to do something, labor turns into a privilege very quickly. Needless to say, I've been missing cooking quite a bit and about a zillion comfort foods jumped into my head. However, there was one spectrum of flavors that has been noticeably absent in my diet which used to be a staple for me. I'm betting my brother, and SamCan(who is basically my sister), back home could guess in a heartbeat... Mexican food and anything spicy.

Back to the recipe assignment, I pick fajitas. I used to make them about once every other week at home and the craving was strong. I described the fajitas as best I could in Armenian, and my teacher, who is a total foodie, got about as excited as I did. Then I realize two things - 1. Most of these ingredients are available in Armenia, and 2. My wonderfully loving and giving parents just sent me a super amazing care package with Salsa Picante (hot sauce!!!) in it. A beautiful plan for my free afternoon was born.

During our next language lesson break, I casually mention to the group that I have an entirely delicious plan but need use of a host family's kitchen. Of course, my bright ball of sunshine friend, Lauren, immediately calls her host mom to ask. Her mom says yes, I tell my foodie LCF's that they are invited if I can pull this together, I get a few other trainees interested in the plan, and I (mostly) patiently wait for language lessons to be over.

Fast forward a couple hours, myself, Lauren, and C (another trainee), are determined to put this plan into action. First, we need to gather ingredients. Our little village has four separate khanoots (stores), but my host mom quickly informs me there are no bell peppers in any of them. C needed to go to the nearest town anyway (somewhat larger than our little village), so we decide to walk. It was a beautifully sunny day, so the three of us head out with out favorite village pup, Max, in tow on our 4km walk.

While in the town, we hit up a few different places. We get some spices from a store filled only with bulk spices that you can buy in any quantity. We get fresh produce from a couple different roadside farm stands. We eat some incredibly delicious fresh strawberries, and finally we make it to the biggest store in the town. We are able to pick up the rest of our list of grocery items (totally got lucky!), but not before we helped a 2-year-old celebrate her birthday party in the grocery store. DJ, fresh homemade Armenian pizza, Armenian Disney princess, and party games included. After that, it was time to trek back home.

Lauren, C, and I decided to only talk in Armenian the entire walk back. It was amazing and some much needed practice for all of us. We get back and find a few other trainees on our way through our village, so they join us. We started our adventure at about 1:30, and it was about 5:30 by the time we made it back to Lauren's kitchen, so it was time to get to work. We made some tea and coffee first, because here, that's a necessity before anything.

Then next couple of hours was a magnificent mixture of good company, food prep, Latin music, breaking gender norms (all of the male trainees with us were outside chopping vegetables), and just being free. There were several parts that seemed a little sketchy at times. Some of our chicken defrosted a bit weird. Homemade salsa proved a bit tricky. Our bell pepper stash was a little low and our hot pepper stash was a little high. Lauren's host family kept wanting to help despite our insistence that we were having fun (again, cooking = labor idea, but they are truly excellent humans). Anyway, we were having a blast, but would it actually make tasty food... meh. Who knows.

Around 7:30, our LCF's show up and the food is just about done. This is normal dinner time here. All of a sudden, everything had just wondrously come together, and it smelled DELICIOUS. We all ate, and the happiness was just emanating from the group. I can't properly describe the magic of the moment. Us Americans had a familiar taste of home. Our LCF's, who work so incredibly hard for all of us, who take care of us in so many ways, and who we all absolutely adore, were having a really good time and also loved the food. Lauren's host family even tried everything and appeared pleasantly surprised at how much they enjoyed it. There was a constant exchange of both English and Armenian. We were constantly passing food around. There was laughter, love, and just general contentment in abundance.

Afterwards, everyone helped clean up. Again, this doesn't usually happen here. Lauren's host family tried several times to get us to stop helping. Earlier though, I thanked Lauren's host mom sincerely for letting us use her kitchen and bombard her house, to which she had said, "Our home is your home. Our kitchen is your kitchen." So through the protests from Lauren's host mom about everyone helping clean, I simply replied, "Your home is our home, and we all clean in our own homes." It was a surprisingly successful cross-cultural exchange, and the best part is, we were all allowed to help. It was one more beautiful addition to a perfect evening.

I was unable to contain my pure joy and happiness at how everything went. I've inherited from my parents a simple and sincere pleasure in creating a meal that many others can enjoy. (For those of you who know my parents, you know the deep truth of this.) The other trainees fed off of my happiness, and something as simple as a meal from home created a night of love and family. We all realized at the end of the night that we hadn't thought about the nerve-wrecking events of tomorrow for hours. I personally hadn't thought about it since the idea of fajitas was first brought up. Food is definitely a powerful motivator.

Now, I am going into tomorrow with a strong memory of love. Even if we are across the country from each other, I have a deeper connection with each and every person I was with today. There is so much closeness you can feel with people merely from sharing one strong, positive memory with each other. I'm not really nervous for tomorrow anymore. Instead, I'm excited for what's next and ready to face it with the wonderful humans around me. All thanks to a spontaneous idea, the help of good friends, and some magical fajitas.

Tonight, I am wishing for all of you to create a new strong memory of love. In the words of two random Armenian women Lauren and I met today -

Մարդ և մարդ շատ կարևոր է։ (Mard yev mard shat karevor eh.)
Literally - Person and person is very important. In other words - Connect with someone. It matters.

Emily

So You Thought You Wanted to Teach English...

This was Practicum Week for us TEFL Peace Corps Trainees. We all went in with bright ideas and smiling faces. We were prepared. We've done tons of training. We've planned lessons and activities. We have halfway competent intermediate Armenian language skills. We thought we could do this.

Oh buddy. I'm going to stop right here and give a huge shout-out to anyone who has taught English as a Foreign Language for any length of time. You all are unsung heroes. I bow to you and your patience. I inherently admire your ability to roll with the punches and creatively solve problems on the fly. I'm sure not everyone's experience matches mine, but there are some things about TEFL teaching that seem innately difficult. I would gladly take teaching college freshmen or substitute teaching the rowdiest high school class over teaching TEFL any day... if I wanted to be comfortable that is.

Don't get me wrong, all teaching is difficult. Even with my minimal experience, I am so very aware of how hard teaching is, especially if you care about teaching. I'm sure there are some TEFL classrooms that are easier than a standard native-English speaking class in America. I'm sure there are plenty of TEFL classrooms that run smoothly and effectively. I'm also absolutely positive that this week being so difficult had a lot to do with my lack of experience in a TEFL classroom. Still, there are a lot of challenges here that I hadn't thought to worry about.

Challenge 1 - English is a mandated class. While this could be really cool in theory, in practice I can already see a lot of hurdles that arise. This means that your best students, who would be in like a high school English 4 class, are in the same classroom as your true beginners - those who haven't even retained the alphabet.

Challenge 2 - Here, and many other places, school discipline works very, very differently. I can't just send a student to the office or write a referral. Some teachers here use discipline techniques that I am not willing to use myself, so students may not respect my way of doing things. Many students will question my role as an authority figure solely because I am an American. Maintaining order is going to be a balancing act between getting students to be "on my side" and keeping enough distance to be respected.

Challenge 3 - Classroom culture is different. It is okay, and maybe even encouraged, for students to help each other, even when solo work is expected. I can call on one student and while they are trying to come up with the answer on their own, three other students are telling the student what to say. It is difficult to gauge where any individual is at because it's almost like teaching to a hive mind.

Challenge 4 - Directions. I need to give directions in order for students to do activities that will help them learn. However, half the students in the class still don't know the words in the directions, so they can't do the activities. I mime a lot. I use bits of Armenian. Still, it is a challenge that I will constantly be working to improve myself on.

This week was exhausting. We still had our four hour language lessons in the morning. In the afternoons, we taught one class, observed another, then had group debriefs and feedback sessions. In the evenings, we came home to our families, ate some dinner, then met up with our co-teacher to lesson plan everything for the next day. It was physically, emotionally, and especially mentally taxing.

I am glad the week is over, but I'm also grateful for the experience. I was in a 7th Form (7th grade) classroom, with some very bright and motivated kids. Even those who weren't as motivated made notable progress throughout the week, and I am definitely proud of them. The students were all very excited to have American teachers visiting, and a few were really sad that we were finished today. I can't wait to get into my permanent classroom. Although, I definitely want to learn a little more before that happens.

On a side note, if you've reached out to me at all this week, I apologize. It has been hectic and stressful, and I have a full weekend ahead of me, too. I will do my best to keep in touch with everyone as I can. Hopefully, my next post will have a little more sunshine.

Հաջողություն,

Էմիլի

One Month In

I've officially made it more than a month into my 27-month experience here in Armenia. I've been pretty sunny in my posts so far. Don't get me wrong, there are lots of good things happening and I am doing well day-to-day, but let me tell you, Peace Corps is hard.

I went from living alone, paying my own bills, and having complete freedom in my own house less than a year ago... to Armenia. PCV's are not allowed to drive in Armenia. We cannot be out of our village after 7pm. We must ask permission to leave the village at all. For many volunteers, the idea of us going anywhere, even a few houses down, alone, is foreign to our host families. Meals must never be eaten alone. Add to this training Monday - Friday from 8:30am - 5:30pm and Saturday from 8:30am - 12:30pm... I think you can get the sense of the change in my independence. It has been an adjustment to say the least.

I've also been sick. This is obviously inevitable, especially with the added stress in our lives. Still, it has been difficult. The first night I got really sick, and to keep this non-graphic, I was only leaving my bed for emergencies. My host dad was the only one home and got very, very concerned, very quickly. He insisted that I call my LCF's and tried in every way he could think of to figure out how to help me. He even made me tea and cut up an apple for me (things which many men in this country don't even know how to do) and tried to offer me a zillion other things, most of which I couldn't understand because my language brain had basically shut off. I, of course, didn't want anything as I'm sure it wouldn't stay down long, but I couldn't communicate that to him. He couldn't communicate to me how worried he was and we both ended up sitting together feeling defeated until he told me to go back to bed. I am doing significantly better now, and I got through it, but it was probably the most acutely I've missed my own parents because of their ability to just know what I need.

There seems to be phases while adjusting to living in a new country that the Peace Corps has tried to prepare us for. Many people apparently have a bit of an attitude dip right around the one-month-in mark, and I think that's definitely been felt in my village and by me. I was going to post last week at the official one month point of my service, but I needed to get out of the little slump I was in before I could take some perspective on it. I have felt like I'm stalling in the language, which is very discouraging considering my lack of ability to have the conversations I still want to have. Additionally, I felt like my family was losing patience with my speaking ability, which was probably an unfair judgement on my part. For brief moments, I have thought about how long these two years will be and I have definitely been concerned about the lack of autonomy. I was concerned about relationships at home, and I started to notice parts of the culture that I didn't think I would ever understand or relate to. Add to all of these complex feelings that I was sick and just wanted my own bed, some Gatorade, Netflix, a kitten to snuggle, and maybe even my parents to baby me a little, I was starting to feel it.

It got better though. A large part of this experience for me will be remembering that everything is temporary. The rough parts and the good will all be brief experiences, and staying present in those experiences is important. I like to balance things out a bit, so here are a few of the things that made me remember to take each moment as it comes and smile at the good.

My host parents actually have five kids of their own - four girls and one boy, all of whom are grown and live in Russia now. A lot of Armenia's workforce moves or lives temporarily in Russia because there is work there and as many Armenians will tell you, they love Armenia, but there's no work here. Anyway, one of my host sisters and my host brother are both visiting and they both have young children. Serojik is 3 years old, Susi is 2 and a half, and Armond is 2. They are adorable little tornadoes rambunctiously running around, and they love to try to mess with me and see what I'll do because I'm the big weird alien in their worlds. Serojik is basically non-verbal due to a birth injury and he has still managed to tell me that I needed to eat more soup because I was sick. He also follows me around the most and even tries to stop me from leaving the house for my lessons. He's taken a liking to me, and me to him. Susi, or Suso, Susanna, Sus, Shus, or the zillion other names she is called is incredibly smart at 2&1/2. She already speaks as much Armenian as I do, if not more. She speaks even more Russian than Armenian and can even sing a few songs in English. Armond is at the perfect age to be equal parts adorable baby and intelligent trouble-maker. He stares at me for long periods of time, but smiles when I make faces at him. The house is super crazy right now because of these kids, and there are definitely challenges to that, but I love them and smile more because of them. Small children are really a universal joy and challenge.

I went on a walk! By myself! It was absolutely amazing. I took a half hour of solitude on a beautifully bright and sunny day, put some headphones in, and walked. I went out to the fields in the sunshine, didn't speak a word of Armenian, and just soaked in the nature and beauty around me. It was probably the shortest span of time that I am most grateful for in my entire life. It really did wonders to recharge my spirit.

Also, there are puppies everywhere. We have a lot of stray dogs in my village, most of whom are incredibly benevolent and just want some pets behind the ears. Here's a few pics of those little bundles of joy.

From top - Remy (super laid back), Panda (mix of spunky adorableness and trouble maker), and Archook (little white ball of fluff)

Gonch - He will play fetch for hours and will jump 6ft walls for his stick. Also, he eats sticks.

Max -  Possibly the friendliest and most popular dog around. He will cuddle for food, but also just for cuddles.

Today, my host sister (who makes some amazing food, by the way) made some Armenian pizza. It is way different from American pizza, but still delicious. Anyway, I ate a ton of it at lunch. There was still some at dinner, but my host sister had already put a ton of food on my plate so I didn't have any room for more pizza. After I barely manage to eat all of the food that was put in front of me despite my protests of wanting less, my host sister puts a piece of pizza on my plate. It's not rude to have an empty plate here. It's not even an invitation for more. However, I am a foreigner and guest in my host parents house, which means they must make sure that I do not lose any weight at all costs because that would mean they're not taking good care of me. It does not matter in any way how much I contest this fact. I say that I am way too full when she puts the pizza on my plate, but that definitely does not matter. I promise you all, I was speaking Armenian. The pizza still ends up on my plate. So, when my host sister turns her back, I very slyly put the pizza back. A neighbor who was sitting next to me and speaks a little English was totally on my side and smiled about it. However, my host brother sitting on my other side and grinning just like my American brother would, promptly tells my host sister very quickly in Armenian that I put the pizza back (probably thinking I wouldn't catch it). Of course, I know the word pizza. Hint* it's a universal word. I yell at my host brother and everyone bursts out laughing and it was just such a sibling moment that I absolutely loved it. Plus, I won. I didn't have to eat the pizza. =)

Now that I've started telling the good stories, I just want to keep going, and there are plenty more. The good stories will be what keeps me here and what keeps me excited about being away for two years. I know there will be lots more rough spots, but I know there will be lots more good, too. Keeping to my mantra of being present, right now, I'm still a little sick, there are still some parts of my day when I am dragging and discouraged, but I am writing this while two little boys sit on the couch next to me and they smile every time I look over. Susi is currently in search of ice cream, so I don't blame her for missing the captivating show of me typing.

I leave you with the most recent stunning picture of our village view of Mount Ararat. (There's a bigger and much prettier version on my pictures page.)

Շնորակալ եմ ձեզ համար և հուսում եմ դուկ մնում եք լավ։

I am grateful for you all and I hope you all stay well.

Emily