Help Fund Border2Border This Year in Armenia

Donate to Border to Border

Click Here to Donate to Border to Border

Remember last summer when I hiked for three weeks across Armenia? Peace Corps volunteers in Armenia are doing that again, and need your help for funding so they can get teaching and marketing materials for the project.

Click here to donate.

If you need a reminder about what Border2Border is, see this video I created at the end of our hike last year:

You can also check out the Border2Border blog here: http://walkacrossarmenia.wordpress.com

It’s a fantastic experience; for some volunteers it was the highlight of their entire Peace Corps service. Walking, seeing nature, teaching cute little Armenian kids about living healthier lifestyles… If you have as little as $5, I’m asking you to donate. If you can open your pocket book a little wider, well… that’s even better!

Thank you for your support of Peace Corps in Armenia.


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Get Used To It

Adaptation is absolutely necessary in order to survive, and especially important in order to reduce stress and flourish, but the process can be agonizingly difficult.

There is no question that I have adapted to a number of typical Armenian situations over the past two years. Each time I encounter them, I become less shocked and more blasé about the way things are done here. These include:

  • Last-minute schedule changes (don’t bother planning ahead for anything)
  • Phones being answered during seminars or in class (don’t take it personally, just let them take the call)
  • Waiting for marshutnis (they may or may not show up; all you can do is wait and see)
  • Crowded marshutnis (remember, there is ALWAYS room for one more)
  • Eating even more when already stuffed (it’s true, fruit doesn’t take up any room inside of you!)
  • Being cut in front of, in line at the store (it’s okay because that person knows the store owner’s sister’s mother-in-law’s cousin, and you don’t)
  • Herds of cows crossing the road, stopping traffic (how else would they get to and from the fields?)
  • Students not showing up for class (why should they, when the teacher isn’t teaching?)

I barely react now, when a fellow volunteer mentions any of the above scenarios. This is Armenia. Get used to it. I am.

It wasn’t always this way, though, as you can imagine. While I was still quite new to the whole adaptation process, every little tiny thing frustrated me. Back in the “early” days, I went with my friend Brian to visit our friend Kim. Her town has a “wide selection” of restaurants, so we decided it would be fun to go out to eat with her and a couple of her site mates.

We got to the restaurant and sat down, unsure of just what we wanted, but Brian, out of curiosity, asked the waitress if there was pizza. She said yes. We asked for menus, to see what else there was. She brought two for the table of five of us (also typical).

Sharing my menu with Kim, I reflected that I wasn’t in the mood for pizza. I’d had it a day or two ago and while I like pizza, Armenian-style just isn’t that good. It often has mayonnaise on it, usually doesn’t have sauce, and the cheese isn’t thick and melty on top. I knew that pizza would not satisfy me, and I needed something satisfying.

Supreme Armenian Pizza

This is a supreme pizza we ordered during pre-service training--peas, mayonnaise, and all. I just wasn't in the mood for something like this.

Instead, I found a dish that looked extremely interesting: a sort of beef patty with cheese, bananas, and plums. There was another dish with mushrooms that also looked good, and I couldn’t decide between the two.

When the waitress came back, and we started ordering, she said, “I thought you wanted pizza.”

“No,” we told her. “We just wanted to know if you had it. We didn’t actually order it.”

“But we’re already making it,” she said.

“Well we don’t want it,” we said.

She was not pleased.

We didn’t care. We reasoned it wasn’t our fault that they were making something we didn’t even want or order. I then pointed to the beef dish on the menu that I wanted.

“We don’t have that,” she said.

No big deal. I shrugged and pointed to the mushroom dish instead.

“I don’t think we have that, either,” she said. She left our table to go back to the kitchen to ask the chef. When she returned, the answer was still no. “We do have pizza, though,” she said.

“I don’t want pizza,” I said. I browsed over the menu while everyone else ordered.

When she got back to me, she reminded me that they had pizza, and it was good.

I staunchly refused to order it. Things were not going my way, but I would not give up and order pizza just because it was easy. I was tired of bending over to everyone, something I felt like I had been doing too much during past few months. I had to stand up for myself, to prove that Armenia wasn’t kicking my butt. I found a third option on the menu that looked palatable and pointed to it.

“We don’t have that,” the waitress said.

I got angry, and I think it showed. She offered once again to go to the kitchen to verify. She really wanted me to just order the pizza and be done with it. I couldn’t stand the thought of it, although after the three dishes I had chosen, pizza probably would have been my fourth best choice.

When she came back, she told me that they for sure didn’t have the third dish I wanted. But she also brought some good news. Turns out, they could make the first dish I had originally ordered! (Maybe they had found a buyer for the pizza…)

Plate of Food in Gyumri

What I ended up getting. It was delicious.

My food came out, and it looked good. It tasted incredible!

I had fought, and I had won, and that made me feel amazing.

After dinner, we walked around town, and later decided to get dessert at a different restaurant. The menu showed all sorts of scrumptious things. I wanted the ice cream sundae. The waiter said they didn’t have it. I chose a different ice cream dish.

“We don’t have any ice cream today,” he said.

I gave up and ordered the chocolate mousse, because it looked like a sundae. At that point, I still had two years to go in Armenia; I decided I better get used to it.

Chocolate Mousse Dessert

My chocolate mousse dessert--no ice cream.


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Posted in Armenia, Peace Corps | 1 Comment

A Little Bluesy From the COS Conference

It left me as drained as though I’d just come back from vacation. I couldn’t focus on my work, couldn’t think about getting back into the routine, had no desire to speak Armenian, and had no patience for dealing with the cold that continued to blow through every crack in my apartment.

My COS conference.

Close Of Service. That means the end of being a Peace Corps volunteer in Armenia. Forever.

Training Village Peace Corps Volunteers

Who was left from the Peace Corps volunteers from my training village, the first 3 months in country.

The conference is two days where they tell you to think about your two years of Peace Corps accomplishments, try to help you think of how to squish it into meaningful bullet points in your resume, bring RPCVs (Returned Peace Corps Volunteers) for a panel discussion on how to re-adjust to life back in the U.S., and inundate you with paperwork to fill out and decisions to be made before you can leave the country three or four months from now.

Peace Corps Volunteer Armenia A19s

The Peace Corps Volunteer Armenia A19s who were still there on the last day of our COS conference

It was the last time the A-19 group would be together for a conference, and possibly the last time some of us would ever see each other again, even though no one is officially COS’ing until July at the earliest. We had fun at the hotel; hanging out, talking, swimming, singing karaoke, reminiscing… I made a video compilation of events during the past two years. My friend Caroline made an embarrassing pictures slideshow.

Watching COS Video

I created a fun video compilation from our two years in Armenia, and showed in on the first night.

It was great!

But it left me feeling completely out of sorts, and although I got back to site a week ago, I’m still trying to get back into the groove.

I’m having a hard time figuring out how to go on. I’ll be here until mid-August, so I still have a lot of time left. But what do I want to do with that time? I can’t find the drive to move forward with my work. I’m struggling, knowing I still have to speak Armenian every day. I want to be done with that challenge! I’m going through a major case of “senioritis,” and it’s not something that I was prepared for. I don’t want to check out; there is still so much I want to accomplish at the college! But… right now I can’t seem to help it.

I’m focusing too much on the future.

I’m racking my brain to make concrete plans for what to do with myself once I’m back in the U.S. All I know is that I want to visit all my friends and family. But I also don’t want to be a drifter for too long, sleeping on couches and living out of a suitcase. I’m going to a workshop in California in September. Other than that, who knows? I have ideas for starting my own business, but the plans thus far are vague and don’t include a place to live or how to make money until I launch my business. (Another blog entry on that topic coming later.)

I’m going on one last vacation in a couple weeks, and hoping that it Will bring some clarity to my life. I hope to come back with a clear head, ready to tackle the remaining 3 months in Armenia, and confident in my post-Peace Corps plans. Until then, I will try a little harder to focus on the present and let tomorrow take care of itself.

In the meantime, I would love to hear any advice or ideas you have for me on transitioning from life in Peace Corps Armenia to life as an RPCV back in the good ole’ US of A.

Notes from Conference: Look, My Legs!

I took this important note during the conference, when we were told that it will be hard, but we will find our legs.


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Posted in Armenia, Peace Corps | 2 Comments

Easter, Another Excuse to Eat More Than You Should

I was born on Easter Sunday, so Easter has always held a little extra meaning for me. It’s been years now, since my birthday fell on Easter. But this year, Easter was very special for me because I got to celebrate in many traditional Armenian ways. Although this happened over two weeks ago, I still want to tell you about it.

First of all, Armenians celebrate on both Saturday and Sunday. Laura and I had scheduled an Armenian lesson on the Saturday, not knowing this fact, so it was a great surprise that our Armenian tutor had arranged a traditional Easter meal for us during our lesson.

Easter Table Spread

Our tutor surprised us with a huge spread of traditional Easter food, which she explained to us in Armenian, during our tutoring session.

Some traditional Armenian Easter foods include:

  • Rice with raisins and/or other dried fruits in it. Often, they also put a layer of lavash (like soft tortilla shells) under the rice. I like this dish, but would prefer that they prepare it with less oil.
  • Dyed hard-boiled Easter eggs. They use boiled onion peels for the red dye, which is very interesting. It takes a lot of peels to make the bright red color, so they start saving the peels for at least a month before Easter.
  • A juice made out of re-hydrated dried apricots boiled with sugar water. The apricots have not been de-seeded, so you have to eat around the pits. Then you can crack open the pit and eat the seed inside, which is also very tasty.
  • Gata, or other traditional Armenian pastry.
  • A “special” vegetarian dolma, if someone in your family has died in the past year. The process for creating it is very time-consuming, and it’s expected that you will make a lot and distribute it to other relatives and neighbors, so you have to make enormous amounts of it.
Easter Dishes Collage

From top left, rice with raisins and other dried fruit, onion peels used to dye eggs red, juice made from re-hydrated dried apricots (with the pits still inside), an Easter pastry.

With the hard-boiled eggs, they play a game. One person holds the egg in their hand, “pointy” side up. The other person, pointy side down, taps on the other egg, trying to crack it. Whoever’s egg doesn’t crack is the winner. On Saturday, every time I played, I lost. But I played again on Sunday with other friends, and I won every time!

Easter Egg Cracking Game

I won every time, with my hard blue egg.

Another tradition is Easter grass. They don’t use the fake plastic stuff that we have in the United States. They put wheat seeds in small trays in their window sills about 10 days before Easter, and let the grass grow from the seeds. They they put the eggs and maybe some little plastic chickens in the grass and decorate their tables with it.

Easter Eggs in Grass

This is real Easter grass, a tradition that would be fun to bring back to the US.

On Sunday, Laura and I spent the day going from one Armenian’s house to the next, experiencing their Easter traditions. We had a lot more traditional Armenian food, and played the egg cracking game several times. Then we learned that it’s also a tradition to go to the churches and the little prayer places around town to light candles. We were invited to come along, and were surprised to see all the people out and about! When you go to light candles, you can go to 1, 3, or 7 places, but not any other numbers. (There are apparently over 20 places to go, in and around my small town!) We went to three.

At one place, I walked around the candle-lighting pit 7 times, with a wish in my heart, so that it would come true. At another place, we saw people sacrificing turkeys, another common tradition during Easter in Armenia.

Lighting Easter Candles

This candle-lighting place was in a pit, which I walked around 7 times, to make my wish come true.

Sacrificing Turkeys for Easter

There was a long row of blood and feathers near the candle-lighting place, and as we watched three more people came with live turkeys that were quickly sacrificed and then taken home to be eaten for dinner.

It was a fun two days of Easter, and I’m so glad I got to experience it. I got home on Sunday evening, stuffed to the brim with all the food. As I lay on my couch recovering, there was a knock at my door. It was my neighbor, there to wish me a happy Easter, and bearing a plate of food for me—rice with raisins, lavash, hard-boiled eggs, and gata!


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Posted in Armenia, Peace Corps | 1 Comment

The Time Has Not Flown

This is my 23rd month in Armenia.

When I look back, it does not feel like just yesterday that I was boarding the plane to Philly for staging, and it does not feel like just this morning that I arrived in Armenia.

Peace Corps Volunteers' First Day in Armenia

Our first morning in Armenia, with the entire group of A-19s

I have fought hard for every single one of the 23 of the months that I have been here, and it feels like it.

Other people may feel differently, but just because the end is drawing near doesn’t mean I’m going to turn all nostalgic and forget about the incredibly long long days that I put in during my Peace Corps service.

Don’t get me wrong—long does not necessarily equal bad. It just means that the days and weeks and months have not flown by in the blink of an eye. It’s okay. It’s not necessary that they did.

For some reason it’s important to me that you understand this.

I’m another year older and have exactly that much more experience. What more could I ask for?

Armenia Peace Corps Volunteers in Tbilisi Georgia

I went with two friends to Tbilisi, Georgia, for my birthday recently.

I’m going to my “Close of Service” conference today. Peace Corps staff is going to tell all of the A19 volunteers what we need to know to finish out our service in the next few months. There will be paperwork and interviews and a language test and health insurance and lots and lots of information. (And there will be some things they won’t tell us, as explained by my former site mate in his blog.)

In August, I’ll be done being a Peace Corps volunteer in Armenia. And these last four months? Will they fly by? Maybe, but I still think they’ll feel like 4 months.


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I Lost My Refrigerator

We can’t exactly say that spring has “sprung” around here, but the snow is mostly gone, and the mud has dried up already. Now everything is just gray. (Can’t wait to see leaves on those trees!) Nights are still chilly and I still have plastic on my windows and I still sleep in my sleeping bag and run my heater in the evenings. And I still leave my jacket on at school, because these cement buildings are really good at retaining the cold.

View from Balcony in the Spring

This is my view to the right, from my balcony.

But. I haven’t worn long underwear lately, I’ve been using my spring coat, stopped putting on gloves and a hat, and I lost my refrigerator because the sun shines right into it now and the weather is too warm to keep it cold. (For those of you who don’t know, my fridge is my entire kitchen during the winter months.) Overall, this is a good thing, because it means that summer is coming!

View from Balcony in the Spring

This is my view to the left, from my balcony.

Summer means the end of school, beautiful weather, fresh, delicious, and cheap! fruits and veggies at the market, and the end of my Peace Corps service.

Lots of stuff coming up, and lots of ideas brewing in my head, but I’ll share all of that with you later on.


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Your 6th Grade Self

I self-consciously brought my fork to my mouth and ate the food that was on it. I couldn’t tell you what it was. I shifted in my seat and looked to my right and left, at the people chattering away. I looked across the table, feeling invisible. My view was slightly restricted with platters of food and beverage containers. The people on the other side were also occupied in conversation. It was okay. My mouth was parched anyway, and I felt like if I tried to talk my tongue would turn into concrete, rendering my words unintelligible. Plus, I didn’t know anyone around me, and I was too shy to talk to strangers. I desperately wanted something to drink, but my glass was empty. I hoped that someone would notice and fill it for me, but no one did. I finally made a long reach for the vessel that was closest, and poured myself a healthy drink of milk. But what came out of the carton was not a smooth-flowing liquid stream of milk; it was a thick, sour-smelling white substance—what I later learned was buttermilk. I took a tentative sip anyway, gagged, and blushed in embarrassment, hoping no one had seen.

——–

What I just described was myself in about 6th grade, at a very large communal church dinner. It was an event that happened every year, but this was the first time that I sat by myself, with no family or friends around me. The experience was excruciating. I didn’t know how to start a conversation, or what I would say. I didn’t feel like I could make my quiet voice heard in the noisy bustle of long tables with hundreds of diners eating at once in our church basement. If the food wasn’t so good, and I wasn’t so hungry, I would have skipped the horrid affair altogether. As it was, I couldn’t get much past the humongous dry lump in my throat, and I wished I had opted to just starve.

——–

Why do I bring this up?

Because I have often realized that being in Peace Corps reverts you back to your 6th grade self—that person you thought you had left behind forever. All those insecurities, bursts of anger, hormones gone crazy, simultaneously wanting to please and break all the rules, amazement at the world, and having to learn how to behave in society—they all come rushing back. It’s rough, and there’s very little you can do about it, except face your young self and, once again, deal with it and try to grow up.

Birthday Breakfast Nook

My birthday is coming up soon. And I am not in 6th grade, despite the fancy princess tiara and birthday girl ribbon adorning my birthday breakfast nook that seem to be evidence to the contrary.

Living with a host family, I’ve marveled at the times I faked sick or tired, just to stay in my room, away from everyone. I rebelled at my host mom asking where I was going, or telling me to be home by a certain time. I didn’t want to eat the food that was put in front of me, so I swished it around on my plate to look like I touched it or I hid it under pieces of bread. I rejoiced in my ability to take public transportation alone for the first time. I goofed off during Peace Corps training sessions. I broke out with pimples all over my face. I had a hard time dealing with feminine problems. I cried randomly, without warning. I had a hard time controlling my temper. I wanted to spend all my time with my friends.

Kids Wrestling over Fire

It's not easy to be a young kid; there's so much in the world to figure out. It's even harder to wrestle with your young-kid self when you're a full grown adult!

And I was shy in big groups of unknown people. I AM shy in big groups of unknown people, at least when I’m in Armenia acting like a 6th grader. Just a few weeks ago, I was in a similar dinner situation with a group of Armenians I didn’t know very well, and I started closing in on myself. My adult self in America would have had a wonderful time. My 6th grade self in Armenia, not so much.

If it hadn’t been my Armenian friend’s birthday, and an Armenian holiday to boot, I would have skipped the horrid affair altogether. As it was, I couldn’t get much past the humongous dry lump in my throat, and I wished I had opted to just stay home.

My first summer in Armenia I was at a different huge dinner festive occasion, and didn’t talk much then, either. I blamed it on my lack of language acquisition. At that time, I could say about 20 useful phrases, but nothing that would pass for a conversation. I can no longer blame it on that, as I teach full computer classes completely in Armenian, and spend hours chatting with my counterparts over coffee, completely in Armenian.

I can blame my 6th grade self and her paralyzing shyness. I’m working on her. And I’m hopeful that once we’re done here, she will be a stronger, more mentally stable, and more confident young girl, so the next time she forces herself on me I will be a more talkative and exciting dinner companion.


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Posted in Armenia, Evolution, Peace Corps | 1 Comment

Proof it’s Getting Better

You ever burn a loaf of bread? Or cookies? Or pie? Or anything that you put in the oven? I have, many times.

Finally, finally, I made a loaf of bread—pumpkin bread—and didn’t burn it. As I congratulated myself on this amazing accomplishment, I dumped the bread out of the pan. It came out in several strange pieces. The crust completely separated from the middle section, parting like a slitted skirt. The middle stuff fell out in chunks. One part of the crust stayed stubbornly in the bottom of the pan. I scraped it all out as best I could and surveyed the mess.

Warm Broken Pumpkin Bread

For once, my bread didn't burn, but this pumpkin bread fell apart as soon as I removed it from the pan.

Well, at least it wasn’t burnt! See? That’s just proof that everything is getting better!

—–

I had a bad week not too long ago, where my patience had run dry, my tolerance for cold had come undone, and my ability to communicate in any language disappeared into thin air. Then I got a call from my friend, whose father-in-law works at the post office. They had something for me. I didn’t know if it was a letter or a package, or who it might be from, as there was nothing that I knew of for sure that was coming for me. I went, and received a great big box, sent by a couple that my mom knows well, Bob and Ruth. They had read my blog entry about missing America and decided to send me some name-brand stuff that might make me feel more connected to home.

Care Package in Armenia

Ritz, Honey Maid, Aunt Jemima, Chex, Life, Reese's....Check out all these name brand, packaged items!

How amazing is that? An unexpected, greatly appreciated care package from two people who barely know me! That’s proof right there, that it’s getting better.

—–

The first part of March, we got loads of snow dumped on us. Ironic, since Armenians consider the first of March the beginning of spring. There was no spring in my step, I’ll tell you that! I’m used to a long winter, having lived in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan my first 18 years of life. But winter here is nothing like winter there, especially when you have to factor in the stress and confusion of living in a different culture. I just wanted winter to END! Then the sun came out, and Laura and Harry and I went to the after-school kids’ program for our usual English lesson, to find the kids outside, having a ball in the snow! They built snowmen, had a snowball fight, and played tug-of-war!

Tug of War with Armenian Kids

A fun game of tug-of-war in the snow made life fun again.

After all of that, we built a fire and jumped over it for good luck, and to make our wishes come true. I don’t want to tell you my wish, but I can assure you that things are definitely going to get better!

—–

Life has been especially trying for me lately. Maybe it has been for you, too. But I’ve realized that when I look around and take stock of what’s really happening, there are signs everywhere—it’s getting better! What proof do you have? I bet, once you open yourself up to it, you’ll see signs that it’s getting better for you, too.


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Posted in Armenia, Evolution, Peace Corps | 4 Comments

Never Ever Ever Ever Give Up

You know what? I take that back. You can give up as many times as you want. But after you’ve regained your energy, try again. Then, if you need to, give up another time, regroup, and try once more. And if things still don’t work out, and the fight has gone out of you, go ahead and throw in the towel for a little while, but then dust yourself off and… TRY AGAIN! Why? Because eventually that thing you’re trying for may in fact happen! And when it does, you will be so grateful that you never actually gave up for good.

Let me tell you a story to illustrate my point.

I moved into my current apartment about a year ago. The first time I saw it, there were exposed wires coming out of the walls. My Peace Corps regional manager told my landlord to fix them before I moved in, for safety reasons. They solved the problem by covering everything with wallpaper and connecting face plates to the dangling wires. I talked about this before, in a previous blog entry. The wires were no longer exposed, but only one of my three outlets actually worked.

Electrical Outlet

Can we call this being fixed? I guess so... It doesn't really matter that it's not aesthetically pleasing, right? Or that it doesn't work?

Hump in the Wallpaper

What is that mysterious hump in the wallpaper? Don't worry about it! It's barely noticeable.

That was sort of okay, although somewhat annoying to only be able to plug in one thing at a time. I bought an electric oven and an extension cord, so I could use the oven in the kitchen. The extension cord had more outlets on it, so I could plug in more than one thing at a time. I also got an electric water heater installed in my bathroom so I could take warm showers. And I bought another light bulb so I could have all three of the light fixtures being used in my overhead chandelier.

Apartment Chandelier

This is the one light source in my living room. When I moved in, there was only one light bulb in it.

Let’s take stock. On any given day last summer, the absolute most electricity I could be using at one time would be:

  • Bathroom water heater during shower time
  • Bathroom light on
  • Computer plugged in
  • Living room light on (maybe)
  • Phone charging (maybe)

Please note: I don’t have a refrigerator, television, radio, air conditioner, or anything else that people plug in (I honestly can’t think of anything else right now!)

One day during the summer, my electricity went out. I thought it was neighborhood-wide, because that happens sometimes. But as dusk fell, I noticed other buildings on my street were becoming lit up, indicating that maybe it was just my building. I looked into my stairwell and noticed a light over my neighbor’s door, implying that I was the only one without power!

I decided to try talking to my neighbors about my problem, and opened my door just as the man of the apartment next door was opening his. In my mediocre Armenian, I said, “I’m sorry, but there is no light near me. Maybe two hours ago, it broke. Do you have light?”

This may have been the first time I actually said more than, “Hello, how are you?” to my neighbor.

He assured me that they had light, and had me prove that I didn’t, by trying to turn on my outside light. Of course it didn’t work. He then walked down to the landing where all of our electric meters are.

Electric Meters in Armenia

This is where my problems appear to have originated.

His friend came by, and I held a flashlight for them as, smoking a cigarette, my neighbor proceeded to pull wires from my meter, cut off the burned bits, strip them, and connect them back to the meter. Then he told me to try my light again, and lo and behold, this time it worked! He left with his friend, and I was invited in for coffee by his wife, who told me that her husband is an electrician. What luck! Maybe I could get my other two outlets fixed!

The weather got colder and I bought an electric heater. One day while running it full blast, my electricity went out again. I was cold, it was already dark, and I’d been having a bad day already. I went to my neighbor’s and told them that once again, there was “no light near me.”

The electrician once again disconnected, stripped the wires, and reconnected them. It was clear that this was going to be a temporary fix. I’m no expert at electricity, but even I could tell that something was making the wires hot, and they were burning until they no longer had a good connection, thereby rendering me electricity-less. I asked how I could prevent this happening, and was told to not run my water heater and space heater at the same time because my water heater was too strong for the electric circuit.

Three weeks later, my lights started flickering, and the next evening my electricity went out again. I almost punched through the wall in frustration. I suffered that night in the cold and the dark, unable to bring myself to go over and ask for help, again, for the exact same situation. The next day, I brought my problem to my counterparts at the college, and they called someone and told me to go wait at home for someone to come over and help. Who came over? My neighbor, the electrician.

Electricity “fixed,” I knew it was only a matter of time until the next blackout. I talked to a few people to figure out my options, and had my counterpart come with me to talk to my neighbor about completely re-wiring the apartment. This is an old Soviet apartment, and back in those days, they had gas heat and not a lot of need for strong electrical wiring. My wires simply couldn’t handle the load I was demanding of them. My counterpart came, we brought the electrician into my apartment and showed him my non-working outlets, and asked about getting everything fixed. He promised to get it done, but said he had to order a new electric meter, and that would take awhile. When I saw him the next time, I asked about his progress and he said he was still waiting for the part. I didn’t hear from him after that, and I felt weird about nagging him, not sure how work is done in this country.

One night, my lights started flickering. I turned off my heater. The lights stopped flickering. I turned on the light in my hallway. It flickered. I opened the door and went down to the landing. I could hear and see my wires sparking at my electric meter. I went back inside and turned off all my lights and unplugged my computer and turned my heater on a low setting. I went to bed early. I spent the next evening at Laura’s, charging my computer and staying warm until bedtime, when I went back home and straight to bed.

The next day, I said, “Screw it!” and knocked on my neighbor’s door, hoping for preventative measures. I told them that my electricity is very weak and my lights… I didn’t know the word for flicker, so I demonstrated with my hand, opening and closing my fist. I said that I was afraid that my electricity was going to go out. I had them talk on the phone to our Peace Corps Safety and Security Officer, who I had called and explained the problem to. He told my neighbor what he could do to fix the problem.

The next day, my lights no longer flickered.

I still had only one working outlet.

And this is turning into a really long story!

One day, sometime later, our Safety and Security Officer came to our town to introduce us to the chief of police, so I asked if he could come take a look at my electric meter. He did, and explained something about incompatible metals. He offered to talk to my neighbor about what could be done about it, but the electrician wasn’t home. He spoke to the wife, who agreed to relay the message.

The next two times my electricity went out, my neighbor seemed really surprised. One time, he simply looked at the electric meter, and my lights started working again. The second time, he tightened a screw, and everything was fine. That second time was the last straw for me, though. I talked to a few people, and told them all that I just wanted things to work normally, and I would pay to have my apartment re-wired. I was told that my landlord had to request the work done, and was also told that I didn’t want to pay for something like that, since it wasn’t my place; I was just a tenant. I insisted I wanted it done, wanted to pay for it, and didn’t want to involve my landlord. That seemed completely unnecessary, and from other issues I’ve brought to her, I knew that nothing would get done if I had to go through her. The woman next door said she’d talk to her husband. He tightened the screw, and that was the last of it.

Several weeks later, I noticed a buzzing sound coming from my one working outlet. I turned off my heater and the buzzing stopped. The next day, I noticed that one of the external wires leading into my outlet was turning black. I unplugged my extension cord and saw a brown spot and a crack on the face plate. NOT a good sign. It was hot to the touch.

Burnt Outlet

This is my one "good" outlet. You can see where it has started to burn and crack. The red tape is where there is black exposed wiring.

This was last week. I gave a deep sigh. I gathered up my fighting strength over the weekend, and on Monday, when our Safety and Security Officer came to our town for a meeting, I told him my situation. He looked at my outlet and tightened a couple screws to make a better connection, and told me that was the problem with that one. He then looked at my other two outlets and said there was nothing he could do to fix them, but would ask my neighbor the electrician if he could do the work. I would pay for it, naturally. Once again, the electrician wasn’t home, but the wife was. She was brought into my apartment, saw what I wanted, and promised to pass the message along.

The stars aligned for me that day.

An hour later, there was a knock at my door. It was my electrician, parts in hand, come to look at my outlets! Two hours later, after tearing apart wallpaper, chipping chunks out of my walls, and then fixing everything back up, all nice and pretty, I had two additional working outlets in my apartment!!!

Words cannot begin to describe how ecstatic I was! It cost me a grand total of $12.00.

New Living Room Outlet

In my living room, they tore off the wallpaper, inserted an outlet housing, fixed the wiring, and cemented the whole thing into place. And now it works!

Kitchen Outlet

Remember the weird wiring lump under the kitchen wallpaper? Well, that wire has been removed. They tore the wallpaper to get at it, and then taped it back together when they were done. Now a wire runs externally, straight up the wall.

I’ll be here for another 5 months, and believe me, I WILL USE THOSE OUTLETS! I’m using two of them right now!

After writing this, I look back in awe at my perseverance. But the truth is, I completely and utterly gave up time and time again. I washed my hands of the mess and said, “That’s it. I’m done. I’ll just freeze. I’ll spend all my time at Laura’s. I’ll find another electrician in town. But I am NOT going to my neighbor’s AGAIN, to get my electricity fixed.” Then, somewhere I would find reserves, and I would talk to him.

And now? Now I can plug in my computer and my electric oven and my phone and my blender and my heater all at the same time!!!! Oh, wait, I only have 3 outlets. Next month, or the one after that, I’ll try to get a couple more. ;)

What’s my real message from all of this?

“If at first you don’t succeed, give up. Then try again.”


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Posted in Armenia, Evolution, Peace Corps | Leave a comment

“I want to come. Just let me ask my husband for permission.” This is what my Armenian friend said to me the other day, when I invited her to come to an event I was holding. In my town in Armenia, this is not an unusual thing to hear from married women, and often the answer is, “No, you can’t go.”

I left with her words ringing in my head, and memories of conversations I’ve had with this woman and other women in my town—conversations about ambitious dreams of going to University and joining the working world as a professional—desires that were ended with marriage and babies, and the expectation that the woman would stop wanting more than that.

Ev and Laura Jump Over Fire

Laura and I recently jumped over a fire, in celebration of spring, and in the hopes that our wishes will come true in the upcoming year.

I arrived home to an email in my inbox advertising an online course by Brendon Burchard, an expert in speaking, coaching, writing, online marketing, and leading seminars.

I am an American woman, and I can do whatever I want. I believe that. So, because I could, I jumped at the chance to better myself, to learn more, to aspire towards greatness, to do whatever I wanted, with no one there to tell me no. I signed up for Experts Academy.

I want to start my own successful business, and I feel like this is a step in the right direction, getting some additional knowledge under my belt. I am learning that I am already capable of so much more than I give myself credit for.

You think that only great writers can publish a book? Well, have you ever read a crappy book?

You think that only accomplished speakers can give a keynote address? Well, have you ever listened to a bad speech?

You think that only wise, experienced, credential-laden people can be coaches? Well, have you ever paid for bad advice?

You think that you have to know everything on a topic to offer an e-course? Well, have you ever been able to help someone out who knows even less than you do? Were they grateful???

Hmmmmmmmmm.

I know that what I can offer is of higher quality than the worst that’s out there, so if people are already paying for the worst, they would be thrilled to pay me for more value, right?

I think so.

There are tons of other women out there, already pursuing their dreams, who are my inspiration. Like them, I want to create a business and take it to the next level. Like them, I want to be willing to try something and see how it works, then change it to make it better the next time around. Like them, I want to offer myself and my abilities to others and see how I’m received. Like them, I aspire towards greatness! I hope to succeed and grow and learn just like them. 

Red Rose

I'm looking to the future, with the following women as my inspiration.

Now, I want to take a moment to recognize a few specific women who I know well and who I admire. I have been keeping an eye on them during my Peace Corps service and have watched them (and their businesses!) grow with time and perseverance. Without them even realizing it, they have been inspiring me from thousands of miles away. So thank you.

Ապրեք և շնորհավոր բոլորին

Great job, and congratulations to you all on your amazing work!

Heather Anderson
Post Road Vintage

Heather has been my friend for forever. In many ways, our lives are drastically different—she’s been married for more years than I’ve been lacking a steady job, and she has more kids than I could count on one hand if I was missing a finger (at least I think 5 is the current number). She has always been really into crafts, and awhile back opened her own Etsy store, selling handmade and vintage items. Then she made a blog about farmhouse decorating ideas, and her own online store, and has now branched out into selling a seasonal e-magazine, calendars, hands-on courses, and just rolled out a new e-course! This woman is incredible! I love reading about everything she’s up to, and I love the way she keeps it real. Throughout it all, she has kept her unique down-to-earth voice, and I admire her for that.

Post Road Vintage

Heather makes homemade soaps, teaches how to make these mason jar soap dispensers, and also has pigs.

Brita Haapala
Brita Caroline Photography

I love Brita’s pictures and the story-telling that goes along with them. While I’m in Armenia, I especially love that she photographs a lot of people and places I know, and she captures their very essence, so I feel like I’m right there with her. She photographed my brother’s wedding, which I missed, and she got it just right, getting pictures of all the goofball moments in my family. (Click the links for 3 different blog entries from Brita about my brother’s wedding.)

Brita Caroline Photography

These are some of the pictures taken by Brita on my brother's wedding day. This is my brother and his wife, a different brother, and one of my nephews.

Successful Military Wife

Kaye offers info that is helpful even if you're not a military spouse.

Kaye Putnam
The Successful Military Wife

Kaye started out as a photographer in high school, and I always admired her photography skills. She has since married into a military lifestyle, and recently started a business helping other military spouses find ways to create portable businesses and create their own “massive success.”

She interviews other successful women to help tell their stories, and gives a lot of really good advice on how to start an online business. The products she’s selling are awesome: small business marketing consultation and small business/career accountability calls.

Loretta Ellenson
A Finn in the Kitchen

I don’t know if Loretta is making money with her blog just yet, but she’s heading in that direction! She loves to cook, and shares her amazing recipes with the rest of us, along with fun stories to go along with the main course. Every single one of her recipes makes me drool, and I asked her once to put together a meal for me that I could make in Armenia. She happily obliged, which was totally awesome!

A Finn in the Kitchen

Loretta is a Finn, and makes magic in the kitchen. You can't tell me your mouth isn't watering right now!

Lia Peterson
Vienna Glenn Photography

I don’t actually know Lia that well, but I know of her family and have been to see her mother once, for applied kinesiology (different story). Once I discovered Lia’s blog and photography business, though, I couldn’t stay away. I love that she takes amazing pictures, blogs on a regular basis, talks about subjects that interest me, holds photography workshops, and also does some video. She has a regular feature called Thrifty Thursday, which is also fun for me, especially since my wardrobe is severely lacking in beautiful things right now.

Vienna Glenn Photography

Lia's photography is amazing, and her lovely character shines through all of her writing.

So those are some of the women who currently inspire me. There are tons more, including those in my own family—my grandma, my mom, my older sister, my three younger sisters, and all four of my sisters-in-law.

Thank you, women of the world, for being wonderful and for being you!

 


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Posted on by Ev | 3 Comments