A Taste of Village Life

I live in a small village of about 2,500 people. There are 8 other Peace Corps volunteers living with host families in my village. The rest are placed in similar villages nearby. The following are a few short and completely true stories of standard days living in the village I'm in.

1. After Lauren and I went to church one Sunday with my family, the driver (who I think was my host dad's brother's grandson or some other distant relative who got volun-told to drive his relatives to church) stopped at some random spot in the village that was definitely not our house or our street. Next thing I know, we are all getting out of the car and walking into the closest house. While we were very obviously unexpected guests, we were all greeted with the utmost hospitality. Within five minutes we were all seated at a set table, and homemade dried fruit, walnuts, and compote (homemade natural fruit juice) were served. Within ten minutes, soortch (Armenian coffee, similar to Turkish coffee), fresh sliced oranges and apples, and a healthy spread of candies and desserts were served. We stayed for about 45 minutes, talking, eating, and drinking the entire time. Then with many gracious niceties, our posse left, but we gained one of the young girls who lived in the house and spoke a little English. She is about 10 years old and her, Lauren, and I were in the middle of a bilingual effort at discussing Armenian history and American history.

Back on the random village street, im papa starts walking. We all follow, but next thing I know, our new slightly larger group is entering another house. Again, it was in no way evident that we were expected, and again, a magical feast of coffee, tea, treats, and fruits suddenly appeared in record time. At each house, a big introduction was made of my host parents' two new American daughters (my host mom and dad have claimed Lauren, too, although she has an amazing host family of her own). And again, as we left, we gained another traveler. 

This process happened until we reached our home, where of course, we were now the ones making treats and coffee quickly appear for those we picked up along the way. There have been other house visits in a similar fashion, and from what I understand, it is the sincere privilege of the host to be able to serve visitors and feed their friends.

2. Somehow related to me is a young girl, about 12 years old, named Astrik. (My host dad has 11 brothers and sisters, and I know our family is ginormous. I also know I've been introduced to so many people who are somehow part of my Armenian family that I would literally need a map drawn out and labeled to remember who is related how.) Astrik comes over every few days, and while she does not speak any English, she likes me for some reason. Either that, or she just likes feeling smarter than me because I can barely make grammatically correct sentences, which she can do in her sleep. Regardless, I really like Astrik. She's spunky and independent and seemingly careless. Side note - Children are really well respected here and can basically do whatever they want in the village, and they can do it safely, because there isn't a single person here who doesn't understand that children are precious. It is common knowledge that the whole village is looking out for each and every child.

Anyway, back to Astrik. Astrik likes to help me study. Well, she likes to try to help me study until she remembers how slow I am at speaking Armenian and she throws her hands up in a "God help this woman" kind of defeat. One day, Astrik came over and I had my flash cards out. On one side, I wrote the words in Armenian, on the other was the English translation. Astrik quickly figured out that if she held up the card so I could see the English and she could see the Armenian, she could actually help quiz me. This became an endlessly entertaining game to her, for which I am eternally grateful, as quizzing is one of the best ways I learn. Whenever I struggled on a word, she would give me the first letter. If that wasn't enough, she quickly lost her patience, told me the whole word, and put it in the "re-quiz" pile. If I knew the word, she would put it in the "good-job" pile. Astrik must have really been enjoying herself, because the game was not over until I got every single card into the "good-job" pile. While I was definitely getting tired by the end, let me tell you that nothing compares to being enthusiastically told apres and jishta (basically, great job!) by a very opinionated young girl.

3. Let me just preface this story with a disclaimer - my host dad comes off a little strong sometimes, but he is secretly a big softy (I'll delve into this more in a later post, I think). Warning - if you are an American, work for the Peace Corps, or my host dad likes you as a person, do not walk past my house unless you mean to be detained for not-optional coffee and treats. My host family's kitchen window faces the street, and we always sit in the kitchen. Plus side, I always know what the weather is like and I meet Lauren every day as she walks past so we can go to our lessons. Maybe not so plus side, my host parents know everything that happens in the area.

One day, a fellow trainee, C, was walking by the house. He was just going for a leisurely stroll around the village. Im papa sees him and loudly says a bunch of words to me of which I got the gist was, "You need to go invite C in for coffee right now." I go outside and ask C if he'd like to come in and meet my host family. C replies that he was just enjoying the rare occasion of solitude and was having a nice walk. I start to tell C that that sounds wonderful and I don't want to stop him from his solitude opportunity (it's a rare commodity here), when my host dad comes out of the house, and in no uncertain terms, demands that C must come in and have coffee. Of course, C graciously alters his plans and comes in. We had a good time, and C later said positive things about my host parents, but seriously, this is a pattern.

A few days later, Lauren and I were hanging out with my host parents and fellow trainee M walks by. I don't remember where he was going, but I'm pretty sure he had a purposeful direction. M was, of course, told he must come in. An hour later, Lauren, M, and I are all learning how to play nardi (backgammon) through us rolling the dice and my host dad pretty much making all the moves anyway and occasionally letting us guess which move we should make. It was a blast though, full of jokes, laughter, and hilarious communication attempts. M said he had a good time and thoroughly enjoyed himself.

This has not only happened to us trainees with our inadequate language skills, but also to HCN's (Host Country Nationals). My Language and Cultural Facilitators have been stopped, Lauren's host sisters have been stopped, and I'm pretty sure there hasn't been a single occasion of Lauren walking by our house uninterrupted. Everyone always leaves laughing, but it is definitely an interesting dynamic.

This post has gotten quite lengthy, so thank you to anyone who has stuck through it. There's so much more to say!!! I will end here though, with just a couple final thoughts. Village life definitely has it's drawbacks, but there is a sense of loyalty and community here on a scale much larger than anything I have experienced. It makes me feel safe and constantly cared for. I do miss some of the novelties that come with living in a more populated area, but not so much that I am in any way unhappy, at least not yet. Additionally, living in such a connected, close-knit area, us as Peace Corps volunteers see the very direct influence that our presence has. Part of that influence has been offering alternatives for some of the more traditional ideologies, not necessarily offered as "a better way" but as "another option." I have so, so much more to say on that, and I promise some day I will get to it.

Lav mna, im enkerner! (Stay well, my friends!)

Emily

Culture Shock is a Real Thing

This is part of what the Peace Corps had to say about culture shock before we got here, "The term culture shock was first introduced in the 1950s by Kalvero Oberg to describe the phenomena people might experience after moving to a new environment. Culture shock can be described as the feeling of disorientation experienced by a person suddenly subjected to an unfamiliar culture or way of life. Culture shock is difficult to identify. It does not appear suddenly; rather, it builds up slowly and is often a series of small events."

Three days ago, I didn't feel so good. My stomach was upset and I had a headache, so I laid down in my room. I didn't sleep, but I did spend a solid 4 hours by myself with a book and a movie, both in English. This is the first time I've had that much conscious alone time since I arrived in Armenia. The next morning, it was like I had a whole new perspective on what the next two years will be and what life is for me here. Not that I was unhappy before, but I was definitely in a kind of daze - doing only what was expected of me for every minute of every day and letting the Peace Corps schedule, my fellow trainees, and my host family make all of the decisions. I coasted through the days, and while I was enjoying them, I was also struggling to register everything that was happening.

After my solitude and English-immersed rest, I woke up genuinely happy to be where I am. Armenia is such a beautiful place with a culture that genuinely interests me. Granted, in every culture there are aspects that aren't so positive, but I am finally falling in love with some of the things here. Below is one of my favorite stories so far, but I have a lot more to share. Fair warning - this post might get a bit lengthy.

The first Sunday I was with my host family, my host parents asked if they could take Lauren (a fellow volunteer I've gotten really close with) and I to church. We were both pumped to go and got permission from Peace Corps staff. They took us to Khor Virap, an ancient church that dates back to at least the 7th century with traces of another church marking the spot as early as either the 2nd or 3rd centuries.

The service was somber and serene, with what I suspect are the best voices in Armenia singing throughout. After the service, my host father went up into the alter area, where the general public was obviously not going. He instructed Lauren and I to follow, which we did very hesitantly. Keep in mind that our language capabilities at this point were severely limited. So we followed while having the intense feeling that we were not supposed to be there. My host dad walked right up to the head priest and introduced us as his new American daughters who were volunteering in Armenia for the next two years. Then, he pulls out these two stunning hand-carved armenian cross necklaces. The priest blessed the crosses for health and wellness and then blessed us. My host father kissed the tops of both of our heads and put the necklaces on. Lauren and I were both very overwhelmed with feelings of goodwill and love. 

After the ceremony, we went to another building in the complex that was lined by two pools of candles. My host dad gave Lauren and I two candles apiece to light a prayer for people. I can't adequately describe the beauty of this tradition, so I'm going to use pictures instead.

 All around it was an incredible experience. As usual, I have so much more to tell, but not enough time. More to follow soon.

Ooni bari or, ahmen mek (Have a good day, everyone.)

Emily

The End of Orientation… AKA – Throwing us into the Deep End

Orientation was the five days we spent at a beautiful resort in Aghrevan, Armenia. It was fast-paced. Full of jet-lag, jam-packed training sessions, studying the language, and hiking during any spare minutes we could find. I bonded with almost everyone in my unit in some way or another, and the excitement level and the nervous level were both very, very real.

Once again, there was waayyy too much happening to adequately describe it all, so I jotted down a few tidbits that I wanted to share with everyone.

#1 – The food. Whoa, the food. It was delicious, or as we say in Armenian, shat hamov eh. Granted, it’s probably not the healthiest, but that’s fine because you’re eating every hour and a half so there’s only room for a few bites at a time anyway. Actual conversation as follows: Me – “These eggs are ridiculously delicious.” Fellow Trainee – “That’s probably because of all the salt, butter, and oil.” I’m definitely going to need to figure out a way to control some of my diet over here, but don’t worry, there is an absolutely 0% chance of me going hungry in the next two years.

#2 – “Authority is a big thing in Armenia, but with that comes loyalty and faithfulness. Getting a blessing from the top, or the people who have authority and credibility, is important.”
“Loyalty and trust are so big that every single family has one shop that they will go to. It doesn’t matter that another shop was cheaper or had fresher eggs. This is how three little stores in one village can all stay open and thrive.”
I don’t think I need to add much here. I thought that these two quotes were a good way of showing that different values don’t mean better or worse. There are different advantages that come with such a loyalty-heavy culture. I think many Americans would argue that a merit-based culture is preferable, but this has definitely helped open my eyes to the value of not ranking different ways of doing things. Each value system has perks and downfalls, and each would probably be advantageous in more contexts if we weren’t so fixed on using only one system in our own culture… using only whichever system we know best.

#3 – “Learning trumps teaching. You can’t serve what you don’t understand.” This quote is especially pertinent for our first three months. It’s so succinct and really hits home for me. For now, my focus is entirely on learning everything I can. I am studying 90% of the time that I am conscious and the other 10% I am using what language skills I have to complete the tasks needed to survive (such as asking what time dinner is, actually eating dinner, or figuring out where the bathroom is, and when I can shower). A fellow volunteer mentioned that one of their measures of success for PST was to dream in Armenian. I haven’t gotten there yet, but I imagine it is bound to happen sometime soon.

There were so, so many more powerful moments during orientation, but a lot of the themes and hard-hitting points I wanted to mention will undoubtedly come up again during my service. I already have so much more to tell as I have been in my home stay with my first host family for a week already. However, currently I have about 15 minutes (if that) of internet a day, so I am updating as I can.

I don’t think there is a way to smoothly transition someone into being thown into a new culture, with a difficult foreign language, where we live in someone else’s home, who we can barely communicate with. The Peace Corps did the best they could to prepare us, but it was definitely still a shock. We all survived though, and we all were able to focus on the highlights, too. While I’ve heard some comical miscommunication stories, I haven’t seen one volunteer who dislikes their family or feels defeated.

I personally already love my host family. I have an Armenian mama and papa, who are pretty much the same ages as my actual parents. Their children have all grown up and moved out, so it is just the three of us. They are incredibly loving and take super good care of me. “Im papa” (my papa, in Armenian) is very protective and was quick to tell my LCFs (Language and Cultural Facilitators)  who live in the village with us that I am well-protected anywhere I go because I am his daughter now and he has a huge family and everyone knows and respects him. “Im mama” dotes on me, worries about me, feeds me a ton, checks in on me often, and does her best to learn English while I am learning Armenian so we can communicate better. She is incredibly patient with me and will repeat sentences ten times at the rate of a snail if that’s what it takes for me to understand. They made sure I was able to Skype my American parents and even told me to invite my parents here. “Im papa” even tried to tell my parents that he was going to keep me because I was such a good daughter, although I think my real Dad objected to that one. It was a good moment, and I definitely leveled up in my translating skills from infant to toddler.

Like I said, I have lots more to tell, but it will have to wait until next time. For now, I sign off with one very happy thought - How lucky am I that I could go all the way across the world and still feel the love and support that is my rock back at home while finding an amazing amount of love waiting for me here as well?