PST 11

I lied, I made it to the internet today instead of next week...enjoy!

I can the whispers before I round the bend…. “Jeeluh, jeeluh” (Jill is coming), and the children momentarily stop all of their important playing on the broken down farm machinery to congregate in front of the wagon. As I come around the corner they are assembled in straight lines, bright smiles on their faces, and in unison “barev jeel, vonts ek?” (hello jill, how are you). I answer that “I am well thanks, and how are you?” To which they take their cue to EACH ask me individually how I am doing. I answer as many of them as I can while I walk and when I am almost out of sight, wave and say goodbye. As this is a daily occurrence, and while endearing, could take my entire day if I were to stick around and greet every child individually, each and every day. It is a small joy in my day to see the children, in an otherwise trying phase of my training and time in Armenia.

It seems that the longer I am here the more often I am reminded that I am here, in a place where nothing can be done simply, easily or quickly, and is often wrought with fraud or at the very least, backwards thinking. That is the thing about this country—it carries a façade of being more developed and forward than it actually is. This is in part due to the fact that it was once a developed nation (with the help of the soviet union). Now with the soviet collapse and the help of a disastrous earthquake, it is a developing nation, with a long way to go. This façade is illustrated beautifully by daily scenes of BMW SUV’s passing pig farmers, the influx of western media to the country and the European feel of the capitol city. Meanwhile, there are villages that remain veritable shanty towns from the earthquake destruction, and there are major social issues that the country is facing. Issues that seemingly don’t belong in this country on the verge of modern civilization and yet are widespread and largely not attended to for one reason or another—mainly financial.

I think the most frustrating thing I am going to encounter is the inability on the part of Armenians to recognize the potential solutions to their problems. They see the need for change but often do not accept a solution unless it is a proven success (which often can’t be proven until it is actually done…). Much of this is due to the Soviet mentality and teaching methods in the schools. People here are used to being given what they need and told how to think. In many ways, although they appreciate their newfound freedom and the idea of democracy, they are still stuck in this mentality. Concepts such as personal responsibility for village streets, trees or trash are virtually non-existent. The people recognize that there is a problem, but don’t identify it as being their problem: it is someone else’e job to fix it. This is a large part of our job as PCV’s--to bring new ideas and then to somehow convince the Armenians to change their thinking long enough to try something new. It is truly a grassroots effort, starting at the village level. This is also what separates PC from other forms of aid and NGO’s that are established in Armenia—the majority of these are concentrated in Yerevan, and although they are doing great work, the people in the villages (who need aid the most) often never see it. Armenia is actually currently the recipient of one of the highest amounts of per capita foreign aid from the US in the world, and is hosting such organizations as USAID, USDA, WWF, Heifer Project, Habitat for Humanity, Unite for Sight, as well as many others from the US, Great Britain, the Netherlands, France, Germany, Norway, Canada and so on. It also receives a large amount of monetary aid from diaspora (mainly people who fled the country during times of persecution and are now permanently living abroad). There are many more Armenian Diaspora than there are people currently living in Armenia. This is exacerbated by the lack of jobs of Armenia—there is also a large number of men who work outside of the country (mostly in Russia, but also the US and Europe for the majority of the year.

We have met representatives from many of these organizations in our endeavors these past eight weeks and have learned quite a bit about what is going on this country. Still, the amount of information coming in right now is obscene, especially with language training on top of it all. I have been studying Armenian for 8 weeks and can actually form complex sentences in past, present perfect, present, future (2 different kinds), imperative and subjunctive conjugations. I am impressed, and overwhelmed. Our first (official) Language Proficiency exam is next week already—this is where all the work for the past two months will be evaluated and recorded for posterity. Yikes!

Last Thursday I got a detailed reminder on the subject of my location. I started my day by receiving a package…without its contents. The Peace Corps was very helpful in the matter, but certainly not very enthusiastic about the possible outcome—I learned why soon enough. The PC logistics coordinator drove me to the post office, where they were very kind and helpful in telling us that we needed to go to the other post office. The other post office was equally kind and helpful in telling us the person we needed was not there, but worked in the main office. By the time we made it to the main office the man that we needed to talk to (who was very busy doing his crossword puzzle) told us that there was nothing he could do…because the package was sent in an envelope. Apparently, according to some strange logic, because it is in an envelope it is a letter, and so it is okay to open it. He is very sorry. But next time, it would be better if it was sent in a box. Note to self. Although this was probably not a huge monetary loss, it was the principle of the matter, combined with the sentimental value of the package that made it very upsetting. Especially when the Armenians shrug their shoulders and say “this happens.” Of course, they also say “not as much as it used to,” which, I guess is comforting…

Add to this the fact that I managed to accidentally delete about 50 songs from my iPod thanks to apple’s ingenious piracy protection, and I can’t get them back until I connect my computer to the internet to register it with iTunes. This is one of those things that sounds a lot easier than it really is. Just hook up to the internet…simple. So, another learning about Armenia: The first time you try to fix a problem and it doesn’t work, you still have hope. The second time, you are frustrated. The third time, downright pissed…”can I get ANYTHING done in this country??” The fourth time, you just shrug your shoulders and ask “why should it be any different this time?” The firfth time…well, I tell you after I ehar back from itunes tech support. I have a strange feeling that this problem won’t be fixed for quite some time. Sigh.

On a lighter note, we just returned from an all EE camping trip to Arpi Leech (Lake) in the Northwest section of the country. For those of you with access to a map it is north of Gyumri and close enough to the border to see both Turkey and Georgia from the tops of the peaks (a short climb form the lake, which is already high in altitude). All in all a nice destination, but truly Armenian in that the scenery was beautiful, but the lake was heavily polluted and there was quite a bit of grazing and misuse of resources. The island in the lake is supposedly a breeding ground for the endangered Dalmatian Pelican, but all we were able to see was a swirling mass of seagulls. A big mass. Regardless, it was a good weekend, and nice to be sleeping outside again under the canopy of stars, which as nothing short of amazing. One type of pollution that doesn’t exist in the majority of Armenia is light pollution, and on clear nights, the skies are mesmerizing. It was also nice to meet the other EE volunteers currently in country and talk about their projects, trials, tribulations and successes.

Actually, we got to bond with them a little too intimately during the obligatory marshrutni adventure. So, just to refresh your memories, marshurtnies are basically minivans, that have been retrofitted with bench seats close enough together to seat 15. They are little longer than our minivans, but certainly not anywhere near as large as a fifteen passenger van. 15 people is already what you might call a bonding experience, especially if anyone is especially large, or hasn’t showered recently (a common problem with riding public marshrutnies….). So, here is today’s quiz: How do you fit 19 people, 19 packs, several tents, a few miscellaneous sleeping bags, a cook stove, a PC water filter (large white bucket like contraption) and a watermelon in one marshrutni? Well, since you asked….you start at the back—4 people sit in the back row and then you pass back as many packs and bag as they can fit under their seat, at their feet, and in their laps. Then you fill the next row, placing a small wooden bench in what used to be the aisle, thus permanently trapping the people in the back row. I got to sit on this small wooden bench with another male volunteer. Fortunately, we were so packed in that the bumping and lurching of the marhsutni resulted in little to no movement of the small bench. Similarly, you pass as many packs and bags into this row as possible. The next row is filled in similar fashion, only there is no small bench for the aisle, so you pile up packs and bags high enough to form a seat. The front row seats as many as possible, and the driver and two more sit in the very front.

Now this, is a clown car. I took pictures, but it just doesn’t do it justice…. The funny thing is, although entertaining, it really doesn’t faze me as much as it probably should. It is simply another part of life in Armenia. Traveling is not simply a means of getting from here to there, it is a complete choose your own adventure novel, replete with suspense, drama, and plot twists.