Its been awhile since I've posted here. A good part of my daily interest seems focused on weather. How cold will it be today. I have weather.com added to my google home page so when I turn on my computer, I will have my answers. We had about a foot of snow yesterday and the highs for the next 10 days will be in the low 20s except for one day when we climb all the way to 26 degrees F. I have finally acquired enough cold weather equipment so I can go out in this weather without being cold. It requires special gloves, my ugg boots, yak trax, one to two scarfs, a hat, earmuffs and my down llbean coat. Plus layers underneath. Unless the wind is blowing, I can walk comfortably. Yesterday I had to go out in the falling snow which somehow always managed to be blowing in my face regardless of the direction in which I was walking. It snowed enough that the roads leading out of the city were closed.

I thought you all might enjoy this story:

Stranger in a Strange Land

It began with keys. I lost the key to my apartment through a hole in my pants pocket and had to go to the next door neighbor to retrieve the spare she keeps. I wanted to make several copies so I can leave a key with one of the volunteers and if possible, some safe place outside my apartment so if another one disappears, I will be able to get inside.

Gyumri is the 2^nd largest city in the country, with lots of apartments and houses, all of which have doors and locks so I assumed I could find someone who could make keys here. So off I went. The main square is supposed to have a key place. I went to the photo shop in the square and asked in my very bad Armenian where I could get a key made. One of the clerks walked me to the door and pointed up the street but said something followed by "pak eh" which means closed. Apparantly that shop has been closed for awhile. I asked if he knew "oorish khanut" (another store) where I could get a key made. He said "bazaar" near the avtokayan (bus station). So I trek down there. The temps are in the teens during this adventure so by trek I really mean trek.

I visited several of the hardware (sort of) stores near the avtokayan and asked about keys. Those that understood me would say ch'ka (not here) and point me in another direction. After about 4 of these conversations, I went to see my language teacher whose shop is close by. She said there is not place that makes keys in Gyumri, I will have to go to Yerevan. Oh. Fortunately, I would be in Yerevan for a meeting in a couple of days – that weekend.

After my meetings in Yerevan, where temps were also in the teens, I set out again looking for keys. This is a city of 1.5 million so you know there have to be key shops. As I was on a street with alot of stores, I kept following the street until I saw what looked like a number of hardware-type stores. Initially, no luck. In one, a customer who spoke English interpreted what the clerk was saying to me – "we don't make keys here" and when I asked where a key place was, he told me to walk down the street about 200 meters and I would see the shop with a key sign above it. I did that. No shop that I could see. I thought maybe I wasnt looking in the right place, walked into another store and tried to explain myself again. This time, the clerk just stared at me, not understanding what I was saying and making no effort to attempt to understand. A woman in the store, a customer, looked at me, crooked her finger to have me follow her, and left the store. I thought this nice lady will walk me to the store which is bound to be nearby.

The woman looked to be middle-aged, dressed somewhat shabbily and with no English whatsoever. After we walk a block or so she turned down another street and once again, beckons. She keeps walking. Turns another corner. Keeps walking. I discover her name (ahsana) and tell her mine but don't really have any more conversation in my vocabulary. We keep walking. I remember the word for "far" and ask how far. She says very close and keeps walking. We walk for about 20 minutes, in an area completely unfamiliar to me and quite far away for the area to which I had initially been directed. I become uneasy. We keep walking. Finally, I spot a kisok with a big key above it. At last. The kiosk was empty and she goes to a nearby store, comes back and says 10 minutes. I tell her thank you for taking me and assume she will leave. No. She stays and proceeds to show me pics of her family and tell me things I don't understand. I tell her what I can about my family and why I'm in the country. The key man finally shows up, looks at the key and says 25 minutes (to make 4 keys). I sigh, agree and tell her thank you once more, assuming that now, she will leave. No. She insists I come with her again. I say no thank you but that is not accepted. Since she has gone out of her way to help me, I feel like I must go.

We cross the street, weave through an alley and come to a tall apartment building. We ascend several floors in an rusty, halting elevator to an apartment which apparently belongs to a friend of one of her friends. At least that is what I can gather from what she says. While they clearly were not expecting her or me, in typical Armenian fashion, they insist I sit down and begin preparing food even though I say several times no thank you, I have eaten already. I take a cup of tea to be polite and several people gather around the kitchen table. One young woman speaks a little English (she says she is an English tutor but doesn't seems to have had contact with native speakers as she has a hard time understanding me or speaking English herself). The other speak among themselves in Armenian and occasionally ask me a question which I occasionally understand. I give them a Peace Corps business card in Armenian. The food sits on the table untouched by all of us. Ahsana puts food on my plate (another Armenian habit) like I am a child. I don't know whether they are waiting for me to eat something before they eat something – custom? Courtesy? The result is no one gets fed.

After about 30 awkward minutes, I say I have to leave, I have a friend waiting. Despite my protestations, Ahsana accompanies me back to the key vendor and waits for me to pay, then takes me to the corner where we get a taxi.

While it is an example of the graciousness of the Armenians for this stranger to go out of her way to help me, I felt extremely awkward and helpless during the entire process. It is so frustrating to have such limited language ability. I am determined to improve this situation. The key hunt would have been considerably shorter and may even have ended in Gyumri (I can't believe there is no place to get a key made here) if I were more facile with my Armenian. Even if I can come up with the right words, I don't understand the responses I receive. I'm not so sure I grok Armenia yet.

On another subject, this last weekend was most enjoyable. I had 8 people for dinner on Satuday night – at the request of one of the volunteers from Charlotte, who was missing down home food, I made fried chicken, with rice, gravy and cole slaw. The guests were so happy, they washed dishes. Nine people in the apartment is quite cozy, but not cramped. At least everyone had a seat, tho not necessarily at the dining room table.

On Sunday, my counterpart invited me and others to her apartment for lunch. It was all Armenian and some of the best dishes I have eaten here. The main course was a kind of tomato frittata, accompanied by chicken skewers wrapped in pastry and roasted vegetables (the latter from a jar, but very tasty – local company). The international group included two Austrians who were visiting Caritas, my counterpart Zhanna, two Armenians and another volunteer. Delicious food and good company. What could be better.

I have a pic of the fried chicken gathering, but that will have to wait for a later post.

BTW, I have put many of my Armenia pics on my dropshots site. That is www.dropshots.com/elizpou. Take a look.

January 31, 2008

Its been awhile since I've posted here. A good part of my daily interest seems focused on weather. How cold will it be today. I have weather.com added to my google home page so when I turn on my computer, I will have my answers. We had about a foot of snow yesterday and the highs for the next 10 days will be in the low 20s except for one day when we climb all the way to 26 degrees F. I have finally acquired enough cold weather equipment so I can go out in this weather without being cold. It requires special gloves, my ugg boots, yak trax, one to two scarfs, a hat, earmuffs and my down llbean coat. Plus layers underneath. Unless the wind is blowing, I can walk comfortably. Yesterday I had to go out in the falling snow which somehow always managed to be blowing in my face regardless of the direction in which I was walking. It snowed enough that the roads leading out of the city were closed.

I thought you all might enjoy this story:

Stranger in a Strange Land

It began with keys. I lost the key to my apartment through a hole in my pants pocket and had to go to the next door neighbor to retrieve the spare she keeps. I wanted to make several copies so I can leave a key with one of the volunteers and if possible, some safe place outside my apartment so if another one disappears, I will be able to get inside.

Gyumri is the 2^nd largest city in the country, with lots of apartments and houses, all of which have doors and locks so I assumed I could find someone who could make keys here. So off I went. The main square is supposed to have a key place. I went to the photo shop in the square and asked in my very bad Armenian where I could get a key made. One of the clerks walked me to the door and pointed up the street but said something followed by "pak eh" which means closed. Apparantly that shop has been closed for awhile. I asked if he knew "oorish khanut" (another store) where I could get a key made. He said "bazaar" near the avtokayan (bus station). So I trek down there. The temps are in the teens during this adventure so by trek I really mean trek.

I visited several of the hardware (sort of) stores near the avtokayan and asked about keys. Those that understood me would say ch'ka (not here) and point me in another direction. After about 4 of these conversations, I went to see my language teacher whose shop is close by. She said there is not place that makes keys in Gyumri, I will have to go to Yerevan. Oh. Fortunately, I would be in Yerevan for a meeting in a couple of days – that weekend.

After my meetings in Yerevan, where temps were also in the teens, I set out again looking for keys. This is a city of 1.5 million so you know there have to be key shops. As I was on a street with alot of stores, I kept following the street until I saw what looked like a number of hardware-type stores. Initially, no luck. In one, a customer who spoke English interpreted what the clerk was saying to me – "we don't make keys here" and when I asked where a key place was, he told me to walk down the street about 200 meters and I would see the shop with a key sign above it. I did that. No shop that I could see. I thought maybe I wasnt looking in the right place, walked into another store and tried to explain myself again. This time, the clerk just stared at me, not understanding what I was saying and making no effort to attempt to understand. A woman in the store, a customer, looked at me, crooked her finger to have me follow her, and left the store. I thought this nice lady will walk me to the store which is bound to be nearby.

The woman looked to be middle-aged, dressed somewhat shabbily and with no English whatsoever. After we walk a block or so she turned down another street and once again, beckons. She keeps walking. Turns another corner. Keeps walking. I discover her name (ahsana) and tell her mine but don't really have any more conversation in my vocabulary. We keep walking. I remember the word for "far" and ask how far. She says very close and keeps walking. We walk for about 20 minutes, in an area completely unfamiliar to me and quite far away for the area to which I had initially been directed. I become uneasy. We keep walking. Finally, I spot a kisok with a big key above it. At last. The kiosk was empty and she goes to a nearby store, comes back and says 10 minutes. I tell her thank you for taking me and assume she will leave. No. She stays and proceeds to show me pics of her family and tell me things I don't understand. I tell her what I can about my family and why I'm in the country. The key man finally shows up, looks at the key and says 25 minutes (to make 4 keys). I sigh, agree and tell her thank you once more, assuming that now, she will leave. No. She insists I come with her again. I say no thank you but that is not accepted. Since she has gone out of her way to help me, I feel like I must go.

We cross the street, weave through an alley and come to a tall apartment building. We ascend several floors in an rusty, halting elevator to an apartment which apparently belongs to a friend of one of her friends. At least that is what I can gather from what she says. While they clearly were not expecting her or me, in typical Armenian fashion, they insist I sit down and begin preparing food even though I say several times no thank you, I have eaten already. I take a cup of tea to be polite and several people gather around the kitchen table. One young woman speaks a little English (she says she is an English tutor but doesn't seems to have had contact with native speakers as she has a hard time understanding me or speaking English herself). The other speak among themselves in Armenian and occasionally ask me a question which I occasionally understand. I give them a Peace Corps business card in Armenian. The food sits on the table untouched by all of us. Ahsana puts food on my plate (another Armenian habit) like I am a child. I don't know whether they are waiting for me to eat something before they eat something – custom? Courtesy? The result is no one gets fed.

After about 30 awkward minutes, I say I have to leave, I have a friend waiting. Despite my protestations, Ahsana accompanies me back to the key vendor and waits for me to pay, then takes me to the corner where we get a taxi.

While it is an example of the graciousness of the Armenians for this stranger to go out of her way to help me, I felt extremely awkward and helpless during the entire process. It is so frustrating to have such limited language ability. I am determined to improve this situation. The key hunt would have been considerably shorter and may even have ended in Gyumri (I can't believe there is no place to get a key made here) if I were more facile with my Armenian. Even if I can come up with the right words, I don't understand the responses I receive.

On another subject, this last weekend was most enjoyable. I had 8 people for dinner on Satuday night – at the request of one of the volunteers from Charlotte, who was missing down home food, I made fried chicken, with rice, gravy and cole slaw. The guests were so happy, they washed dishes. Nine people in the apartment is quite cozy, but not cramped. At least everyone had a seat, tho not necessarily at the dining room table.

On Sunday, my counterpart invited me and others to her apartment for lunch. It was all Armenian and some of the best dishes I have eaten here. The main course was a kind of tomato frittata, accompanied by chicken skewers wrapped in pastry and roasted vegetables (the latter from a jar, but very tasty – local company). The international group included two Austrians who were visiting Caritas, my counterpart Zhanna, two Armenians and another volunteer. Delicious food and good company. What could be better.

I have a pic of the fried chicken gathering, but that will have to wait for a later post.

BTW, I have put many of my Armenia pics on my dropshots site. That is www.dropshots.com/elizpou. Take a look.

New Years in Armenia

At last, I have an internet connection and blogger is working. These are only a few of the pics I have. Let me know if you want to see anything else. This is a pic of a chorale and christmas pagent a friend and I saw before Christmas. It was charming and a most enjoyable collection of music from classical pieces to gospel. The pagent included a number of children playing the different roles. The angel who represented God's voice to Mary lip synced to a booming male voice.

Here are the Christmas decorations at my apt. The fancy looking tree is a music tree about 10" high sent by my sister who also sent the Charlie Brown tree.

I painted a Christmas tree on my gold fingernails. The reality looked better than any picture I could get.

I also decorated my toes in Christmas colors.

I spent Christmas day and two days after w/ two age appropriate vols in a very nice B and B in Yerevan. We had a wonderful time, catching up with each other's lives, eating some nice meals, looking at various stores. I discovered Yerevan has several nice tea shops and at least two of them had good varieties so I won't need to beg and plead for merchandise from the states. The B & B supports an art school in a region that was destroyed in the 89 earthquake. The school students craft very nice pottery. I bought three pieces and plan to get more every time I return to Yerevan.

On the way back to Gyumri, I stopped in the big produce market in Yerevan, bought some house gifts for the various places I was going to visit for Nor Taree and some treats (lettuce, mushrooms, and a few other hard to find items).

On the 31st, I headed out to Shahumyan to spend Nor Taree w/ Sveta, Grigor, family and Phyllis, the vol who stayed there last year. Sveta is recovering from bunion surgery on both feet. I won't describe the process in detail but here are two small factoids – she was given only a local anesthetic for a 5 hour procedure and saw the doctor drinking vodka throughout the surgery.

Here is a pic of the only heating source in the house in Shahumyan, a very inefficient wood stove. You could see your breath in every room. My sleeping bag saved me or I would not have been able to stay two nights. It reminded me of my grandfather's house, heated by only a pot bellied stove in the living room – boy, were those upstairs bedrooms cold.

Here are a few pics of the Nor Taree table.
The family had been cooking for several days and were putting dishes out on the table when I arrived at about 4 pm. We had a khorovats (specially for me) about 4:30 in the room w/ the stove. Dishes continued to get assembled and put out in the living room throughout the evening. We ate in that room at midnight and toasted the new year, our friends and families. Once food is set out, it stays on the table until it is eaten, through the 6 day New Years celebration. I worried about freshness initially. Fortunately, the living room (as well as the rest of the house) stayed about the temp of a refrigerator so I don't think I subjected myself to anything harmful. I did decline the three day old dolma for breakfast on the 2nd morning.

People come in at random beginning on the morning of the 1st. Usually relatives, some neighbors. There are no set dining times. Whenever someone comes in, the family goes to the table again. Toasts are an essential part of the process. The guests may stay a few minutes or a couple of hours. The idea is to make sure there is always a clean plate available for whoever comes in.

Edmund, the son who lives at home, will be getting engaged to his girlfriend, Anahit (see pic) in February and married this summer. They've been going out with each other in a serious way for about a year. After they get married, they will both live at the farm (tradition is that son's wife lives with his family and the mother-in-law (in this case, Sveta) is the authority figure for the new wife.

this is me acting like an Armenian woman putting on makeup in front of everyone using the one mirror in the house. Public annointing of oneself is typical in most Armenian households.

Grigor has acquired some guinea hens. Those of you who have been to my house know of my fondness for guinea hens.

Here's a pic of the farm in winter. It's so different from the same scene in the middle of the summer (see some of the August entries for comparison).





Phyllis came back to Gyumri with me on the 2nd. We tried to go shopping on the 2nd, 3rd and 4th, when she left to return to Sevan, her site, but except for a couple of small food khanoots (stores), everything was closed.

On the 2nd, we visited Emma and Albert – similar table set up of course and stayed to eat a few things and participate in several toasts.


We also visited my across the street neighbor for a few minutes – here is a pic of her, her husband, and Phyllis. More toasts.

My favorite day was the 3rd, when I visited 2 houses of friends at Caritas. Their tables were still full of food and guests continued to pop in and out at both places. The pace was slower than the first two days and we had some nice conversation time. More toasts. In one of the houses, I received the first pressure to put vodka or wine in my toasting glass. The husband of my friend told me it was bad luck not to put alcohol in the glass. Since he was the first person to tell me that, I decided that since nothing bad has happened in the last 7 months of non-alcoholic toasts, I could survive on juice and prevailed. The younger vols, especially the men, receive huge pressure to drink and the vodka (especially homemade hootch) is as strong as grain alcohol. Fortunately, my gray hair is a real asset. No one is going to bully a tatik (grandmother).

During the day 3 visits, I enjoyed a few dishes I had never tasted – both Georgian – one a sour plum sauce, delicious w/ pork (yes, I ate pork that had been sitting out for three days and I'm here to tell the tale) and a chicken dish that looked a bit like pudding and was full of wonderful spices. I also ate a piece of fish – dont know how long that had been on the table.

That was the end of my visiting. Yesterday, after Phyllis left, I checked in with the other Gyumri vols and ended up having them all come over last night for chili and jigsaw puzzle. There were 8 of us altogether and everyone seemed to find a place to sit and a bowl for the chili – it turns out I have exactly 7 big spoons so one of us ate w/ a small one – it didn't change the flavor at all. None of the plates and bowls match and that didn't change the taste either.

Today is a bit of a relaxing day. I'm going to try to find an internet cafe and send this entry, then get my hair cut, then wander over to another vol's house for a bit. Update - one day later - now at internet cafe.

Time for a public thank you to all my friends and family who have sent boxes. I received several in the last few weeks, each with fabulous contents, from new puzzles to exotic foodstuffs. It is always a high point to get that slip from the mailman that means a new package has arrived. And I love being able to make a dinner for friends that contains ingredients we cannot get here – a little touch of home to chase away the blues. Thank you, thank you, thank you Bobbe, Tom, Joey, Michael, Wayne, Bob, Maureen, Susan, Anne, Claire, Janet, Melissa, Larry and Susanne!!!!!!! Several others have sent emails saying something is in the mail so I look forward to more slips of paper from the mailman when the post office reopens (they closed from the 31st to the 7th).

Love, Elizabeth Lynne

INTERNET ISSUES

Merry Christmas and happy new year to all!!!
I've had several requests to describe Christmas and New Years celebrations in Armenia and what I did during that time. As usual I have some pics to help.

Here are the Christmas decorations at my apt. The fancy looking tree is a music tree about 10" high sent by my sister who also sent the Charlie Brown tree.
RATS - blogger is not allowing me to upload the pics and the internet is so slow I cant get dropshots to load at all. So I'm not completing this post until I get better response. Maybe Monday.