watchful waiting

It was one of those late afternoons when you can't decide if it's really cold, or you're just being a wimp. I'd like to say that it just wasn't that cold, although I'm prematurely opening the box for Spring. I was waiting for my bus to leave not wanting to climb inside the interior that roared Armenian pop music, so I stubbornly stood outside till it left... snapping this picture.

on bread duty

Most of the other volunteers I know here have moved out on their own, into small apartments or houses. I still have not and often have conflicting thoughts about it. I have come to have a really comfortable relationship with my host family, in particular my host mother Aygestan. I remember how indifferent I was in the beginning towards her and I couldn't imagine the 4 month stay ever coming to a close. Now I love this woman, and enjoy the idiosyncrasies we've developed. I'm happy how wrong I have been proved to say the least. The other day I was making pasta on the stove, totally stuck in an article I was reading about some mountain climber. I absentmindedly let her chick peas burn to death not even noticing the smell. She yelled at me for being so off into space, and I could only laugh. In the end she did too, and today she put me on bread duty insisting that if I let the bread burn then I will have to buy us a week's worth of it out of my pocket. Today the bread came out perfect.

play

When I went back to Texas for a small break, I came across Lonely Planet's: One People one night at a bookstore. I wanted to buy it, but walked out empty handed instead. It's a compilation of people's travel photos and is broken down into 8 simple categories that reflect the commonalities of the life cycle. If I can recall, they are: Breathe, Play, Live, Love, Reflect, Work, Celebrate, Die. I've seen this done before on websites and I've always felt inspired by these attempts that illuminate the paths and crossroads in our many journeys. So I start with this boy. He's not riding his bike, but he's thinking about it. He is the universal boy on a bike that we understand. I recommend at least taking a look at the book, it won't waste your time.

get down get down

I spent a week at a conference for our group of volunteers, which was designed to teach us how to design and manage project ideas as well as write grants. Whose to say it did or not. At the end of the training, the hotel we were staying at threw a disco ball for us. I didn't pack anything at all that would be fiting enough for the occasion but I enjoyed watching the saucy outfits show up and show off. Maybe not having anyone to attract matters, maybe it's just about the need to feel like you could.

in the grain

I've always liked grainy pictures, or the visible grit. Kind of like the way I like imperfect noses on people, with big crooks and curves. Not that the two are for everyone, but I wanted to play with it in both color and black and white. I caught the couple above at a remote monastery where I had to hold my own breath from being shown in the icy interior. Reza is the kid below, a friend of mine from Iran hiding out and studying in Armenia to avoid the army. He makes great beets.

time's up

My friend Bex and I, along with Mr. Chuck the best dog ever. I'll once again miss the small stuff.

home

Back in the State of Texas, where dogs and people speak my language.

pause

I paid all my dues and attended well over a handful of Armenian holiday parties. I'm glad it's over, and that I'm on my way to America where the obligation level is minimal to non existent. I went back to my first village of Arzakan last night to say hello, catch up on whatever there was to catch up on, and stay the night. Walking up that long steep slope late last night, because my taxi driver couldn't make it up, was incredible. The tungsten lit snowy village that the moon was shedding it's creamy light on was the most perfect thing I have seen since being here.

a time for 2009

Christmas still hasn't been celebrated here, and it won't until the 6th of January. However, the children of Armenia wait patiently for Zmer Papik to arrive with his white polar bears on New Year's Eve. Zmer Papik means "Winter Grandfather" but this unseen character sure does look and respond just like Santa, bringing gifts to the smaller ones who believe. I will be back home in Texas when Christmas comes here, enjoying faces and voices I have not seen or heard in awhile. So I wish us all a good new year, 2009, a year full of new stories, pictures, and moments.

ipod world

This is Vaje. He is roughly 2 years old, and welcomes himself to my room every time he visits. He bursts in and then tiptoes around to see what else he can find that is "new." Yesterday we discovered the iPod. Hmmm...what IS this? Wait a minute, I can hear something through these green things. Hey....this is rocking!

what am i reading?

I'll go ahead and ask the question, and then answer it as well. I just finished Kafka on the Shore, which was an interesting novel. But I am just in the whee-stages of Leif Enger's new book 'So Brave, Young and Handsome.' The little boy's name in the book is "Redstart", so you know it will be an adventure of Southern wide open space well worth savoring. Reading Enger's books reminds me of characters I witnessed in Blanco. Their names were (and still are) ever so perfect. Among the good ones was a smooth talking farrier named Slim, a Mexican laborer who drank the backwash of beer cans named Pancho, and an overweight 5th grade teacher painted in blue and pink eyeshadow named Charlene Cockerham. That's probably just the tip of them, if I thought real hard about it I know I could fetch more. Right now I am spending an abnormal amount of time reading because I no longer have my computer to converse with, and I have no idea how Peace Corps Volunteers even went about this without one. That must've been another world.

riding

I was inside the marshutney bus, waiting for it to fill up to it's never exceeding maximum of 45 people when I caught the eye of this young girl. Then I wedged myself in tightly for the ride to come. Getting a good seat is a smart idea, a seat all to it's own, that you don't have to compromise your leg, lap, or whole body for. As much as I whine, I have come to appreciate how unbothered everyone is while on them. The dependency is high, people have next to no other way to travel within their means, but even if a bus is oozing bodies there is always room for one more. Someone will point to the remaining 4% left of a seat and say "here, right here, sit down."

28 N and 3 E

Armenia hinges on the gates that open the East and distinguish the West at those geographical points. I often try to make my mind up on what I think, but I never can. It has been heavily politically influenced over time, trying to please all neighbors while protecting the culture and history of its people. The language dates back to the age of dirt and stars, and so does the charm and beauty...like this face above.

sunday light

The view from a friend's window apartment that looked far more beautiful at the time than this picture can convey, and my good friend "Jon M." at Sunday's dusk.

lavash

Lavash is the traditional Armenian staple. It is almost like a tortilla, but not. It can be a little jaw intensive to eat after it has been sitting out for awhile, like days. But I've eaten my share of it and find the history interesting. It is holy bread, therefore cannot be thrown out. And it is as old as time, consisting of only flour, salt, and water. I often come to this one room lavash factory to warm myself, and I eventually eat a few free slabs while the women are nice enough to let me take their pictures. It was an attempt to do a mini-essay, I hope you enjoy.