ERICA is Here

                                    

Yesterday was a momentous day for me, not because I did great things or  that my students went home saying that they learned more English because of my lesson during their class.  It was momentous because more smiling faces emerged from the people on the sidewalk, from the bus, from the local khnoot.  Maybe it is because spring seems to be also emerging with more sun and touches of green,  warmer temperatures, and increased activity on the streets in our neighborhood, but whatever the reasons,yesterday  was memorable.      Let me explain..................

As I walked to my college a random little girl walking on the opposite side of the street and headed in the opposite direction from me, burst across the street and came up to me to show a drawing she was taking to school. I had never seen this child before, but many children walk the same route as I during the morning and I do not know each and every one of them.   This little girl was rosy cheeked, wore glasses (very unusual in Armenia) and was visibly so excited.  She spoke to me in English and answered my question about her drawing which was actually quite good for a small child. She was so very proud of herself and just wanted to share with someone. I was the only one available at the time, I guess.   After our brief conversation, the child darted back across the street and to my horror, she ran directly in front of an on-coming car. The car was speeding as many do on this major street and it never slowed down. Fortunately , the little girl with the unfinished art piece made it across the street safely, probably not even realizing that she almost lost her life after speaking with me.   I was appalled at the thought of what might have happened right before my eyes.....an innocent child could have been killed for no reason except for showing joy, happiness and the sheer exuberance of youth.   Oh, if only that driver could be made aware of what he  might have unknowingly done........................    that began the momentous day in which little things meant a lot because of the brevity and uncertainty of life.......for instance..............

As I reached school, a group of male students were having their last cigarette before entering the building for class. They are always there, in their black leather jackets, getting that last unhealthy drag and nicotine fix at the top of the steps into the building.  They usually mumble "hello", "barev dzez" or some other cursory greeting.  Today, though, several of them smiled, spoke clearly and greeted me, asking how I was and actually acting civil to an older person, a teacher at their school.  This was a change in behavior I was glad to witness.

Teachers were friendly today, trying to engage in conversation which is  as difficult for them as it is difficult for me.  The faculty and staff at my college, Dilijan State College,  have been overwhelmingly supportive, helpful and patient with a stranger from another country who speaks their language terribly yet who wants to communicate.  I appreciated their efforts yesterday because they were sincere and unasked for.

Later, as I awaited my language tutor in the local high school, students greeted me in the hall. They frequently do say "hello" because they all take English as a foreign language, however, today there was a different feel to their greetings. Was it because I was still reeling from the incident earlier in the day when the little girl almost lost her life after talking with me????

On the bus back to my neighborhood I encountered the bookkeeper from my college. We both were trying to get on the bus and being pushed and shoved by other riders as Armenian bus riders do. It's as if each bus is the last one on earth.  We were not able to sit together but as she left the bus, she turned around and handed me a bus ticket. She had paid for my ride as well as hers.  What a kind gesture, and I appreciated it.

Then I stopped at the local produce market where David and I like to purchase fruits and vegetables. The lady who owns it works hard, never missed a day even during the coldest weather, and has always been friendly towards us, unlike some of the other vendors in the area.   While there, another customer came in and said, "Judy, namank at the Hay Post".  I recognized this woman from the local post office and knew that she was telling me to go and pick up mail.   It was a good feeling to have someone realize who I was and to give me that message since there is no mail delivery and only through a phone call or word of mouth does one know there is mail waiting for pick up. Mail is precious here and sometimes never arrives from outside Armenia. We do not know WHERE it goes but when a letter makes it to our local post office, it is a good day.  Today there were 2 letters waiting for pick up.

Judy and Arpine, neighborhood friend in Dilijan

                                                
As I finally walked home after going to the post office, a young woman in the neighborhood who speaks excellent English and who is desperately seeking a job, caught up with me to say that she may have a job once the election is over in early May. She has been coming  to our apartment weekly to practice speaking English. She had missed the past 2 Monday's and was most apologetic.   We walked a short distance together and she said, "I think I've just got too much to think about right now to study, but I'll do it again soon".  I had a lot to think about too, after today's  simple yet eclectic encounters.    We could certainly resume working on English and Hayeren another day so I reassured her of my understanding how she felt.
                                                                                     then...................
Today, the same little girl mentioned in the beginning of this post saw me as I was walking home from school. She was on my side of the street this time and  as I approached her, she eagerly unrolled the piece of art paper she was carrying.  This time, the picture was totally colored in and complete.  Again , she was obviously quite proud of herself and seeking praise.  I said all that I could think of to let her know how much I liked her picture and what a good job she had done.  She asked me my name.  I told her "Judy" then I asked hers.....'Erica", she said.   We said good-bye and continued on our separate journeys.

  Just as yesterday was momentous, so is today,  because Erica is here.  What more could I ask of a day in Armenia.

                                                      Finally, spring has arrived in Armenia    

MALTA Demonstrates Health Care for All

Valletta, Malta waterfront

                                                       Along with other current volunteers, I have been asked to help with pre-service training for the next group of 45 Peace Corps trainees who arrive in Armenia on May 25. They will be greeted by a volunteer with a resolving black eye and a small scar over her left eye. (This reminds me of last year when we arrived in Armenia and were greeted by a volunteer who also had a black eye, facial lacerations and evidence of trauma. Pat, the volunteer, has been my role model ever since then!) Yes, while on a short vacation recently in Malta, I ungracefully or clumsily tripped on the curb and fell, hitting my face on the sidewalk.   There was a deep laceration over my left eye and bleeding, which resulted in much unwanted attention from passersby and also required a few sutures. My pride was hurt, but I am lucky to have only minor consequences of the incident.



Emergency Room in St. Paul Baffo Hospital, Floriana, Malta



          Having an accident in a foreign country is frightening, but the health care system of Malta was amazingly efficient. I was cared for quickly and professionally in the Paul Baffo Hospital Dermatology Clinic in Floriana, Malta. After the injury, Dave and I walked to the clinic.

Upon arrival, contrary to procedures in the U. S., I was assessed as an emergency case with treatment of my injury being the priority. I was not asked about my insurance, my name, allergies, medical history or anything. Although in reality, this lack of information could present serious problems, it worked out well for me.  An excellent dermatologist on staff that day sutured my laceration while we had a fine conversation of her travels over the world and the fact that David and I were from the U. S. Peace Corps.   There was NO CHARGE for this service although the Peace Corps does cover approved medical costs for volunteers, and we even offered to pay out-of-pocket.  The doctor said that basically all medical care in Malta is free due to their high taxes and since we were volunteers there’d be no charge. We were even driven back to our hotel by a hospital vehicle headed in that direction. I did e-mail my appreciation to the hospital and our Peace Corps physician did the same.  We were both grateful for the care provided.

                                                    So,  what else about MALTA...................................

        Malta, like Armenia, is filled with historical sites and stories of struggle.  Beginning 7000 years ago, invasions and attempted invasions were made by the Normans, the Ottoman Turks, Napoleon, the  Germans and Italians. The small country’s strength and resilience against outside forces was severely tested time and again.  As a result, there are hundreds of places to see, from ancient megalithic temples to stone bastions and forts built many years ago, to elaborate churches and art galleries.  

Downtown view, Valletta, Malta

 The architecture of Valletta, the capital of Malta, is exquisite with its balconies and brightly colored doors.   The strength of stone is prominent in most buildings and original cobblestone streets are in use throughout Valletta. Immensely thick, high walls surround Valletta and sky –blue water of the Mediterranean Sea brings ships of all types to its waterfront.  The walled city of Mdina is another site to visit and again shows how even a small town of 300 people can maintain its historic presence for others to see and study



Dave in front of a megalithic temple in rural Malta





Judy in garden outside Malta President's Palace

      Although our limited time allowed for seeing only a small portion of this intriguing country, we think staying in historic Valletta was the correct choice for us.   Learning of the Siege of Malta, touring museums and art galleries, strolling the immaculately clean streets, and attending cultural events , all within one week, made for a most memorable and refreshing holiday.  Since English is the second language after Maltese, there was also a respite from struggling with a difficult foreign language.  Dining in local restaurants and cafes was not only tasty but also stimulating learning experiences as we tried typical Maltese dishes and wines along with other cuisine.  Rabbit is the entrée of choice in Malta and it was served in numerous recipes in most restaurants.  We met a former Ambassador to Russia, a street musician who plays the bandura and sang with a gorgeous operatic voice, a couple from Great Britain who’ve traveled the world over, and countless other casual acquaintances on buses and in public places. 

             Malta, unlike Armenia, is a country attempting to protect the environment through recycling, reduced smoking and increased attention to garbage and trash disposal. Streets are immaculately clean even in the many construction sites in renovation areas.  People smile and are cordial to tourists because, like Armenia, tourism is their country’s livelihood. The difference is that Maltese people realize their country’s assets and want to promote them to outsiders. Tourist information centers are friendly and filled with ideas and materials about what is happening in the country. Many cultural events are free to the public and health care is also free or at very low costs to the Maltese people although taxes are reportedly high. Public transportation is widespread both day and night and primarily small, fuel- efficient cars are seen on the streets. The people of Malta are generally future-oriented with renovations and new buildings occurring alongside preservation and care for historic sites. These observations over a week’s time are not totally comprehensive but certainly enough to recommend this country as a “must see” for travelers seeking beauty, history, warmth of both climate and people, and change from one’s usual routines of living.

      Situated in the Mediterranean Sea, Malta is a place of overwhelming beauty which many  people would not even think of visiting, similar to Armenia.  David and I feel fortunate to have visited both and certainly encourage readers of this blog to consider Malta as a memorable vacation destination. Armenia could learn a lot from Malta as it strives to become economically stronger. Let’s hope that at some point in the future the positive influences of other countries will help Armenia to prosper, develop its resources, and become a more prominent member of the world around it.    



David with carriage driver who offers tours
of Valletta ,Malta



                          

Fountain in front of governmental building in downtown Valletta, Malta



Children in Armenia Agree.......We Shall Overcome!

                                                      

 Emma and Saran on their way to school on a snowy day in Armenia

                                                    

      Much of the pleasure derived from being in a foreign country comes from the children we meet.    Rosy cheeked and smiling, even in frigidly cold weather, Emma and Saran greet me almost every day as we meet on the sidewalk, going in our opposite directions to different schools.  At first it was “hello, how are you?” in strongly accented English. Now that greeting has progressed to “good morning, how are you, I am fine, thank you”, all together as if one sentence.  Smiling, the two girls stop to chat a few moments.  At first, they’d say, “what is your name”. I’d tell them and then ask their’s.  We are past that now, so our brief conversation usually includes well wishes for the day ahead and a few other phrases that either of us can think of.    The woman following close behind Emma and Saran, with a younger child in tow, seems to be in a hurry every morning, however, the girls always stop to offer their greetings.  One particular morning in January, Saran began speaking in English “ 1,2,3,4,5,6, mother, father, sister, brother ……..”, all at once and with a look of pride on her face.  David was with me that day. He and I were surprised at this burst of knowledge above and beyond the usual “hello”. We praised Saran greatly and said many “shat lav’s” or very good’s!  The next day as we approached the girls on their way to school, Emma stopped and burst into singing “We Shall Overcome”, the entire song including the OOOOO”S at the end.   We were shocked that she knew this song and just said the name Dr. Martin Luther King to her to see if she knew about the man. She did not.   We highly praised her singing, just as we had  praised Saran the day before, then we all continued in our separate directions to school and work.

Later that day as I chatted with Kellianne, the other Peace Corps volunteer who lives in our town and who teaches English at Saran and Emma’s school, I found that the girls had been taught “We Shall Overcome” by their local Armenian English teacher.  This teacher did not give information about the song, its history or meaning, thinking these 8 or 9 year old children would not understand.   A few days later, Kellianne asked if I’d come to one of her classes of older students and tell about living in Memphis at the time of Dr. King’s assassination, what it was like in the 60’s, and anything else I could tell them about that time in history. I was more than pleased to do this because I did live during that critical time, then eventually lived in downtown Memphis across the street from the National Civil Rights Museum which is housed in the old Lorraine Motel where Dr. King was shot.  Kellianne taught several lessons about Dr. King, focusing on the holiday in his honor on January 15^th. She even had her students read and study the “I Have a Dream” speech and then write their own “I Have a Dream” speech.  Portions of these speeches were video-recorded as a class project .

 My early morning encounter with Emma and her singing of “We Shall Overcome” led me to hearing about and participating in a small way in the other volunteer’s lessons about human rights and Dr. King’s legacy.    Children lead us down unexpected paths and we are better for it.  Thank you, Emma and Saran. I look forward to seeing both of you every day.      Judy in Armenia

Children in our neighborhood , enroute to school.  To follow their path is to find new adventures and new friendships in Armenia.

                                                                      

Snow, Smoking and Small Gifts.....it's Armenia

        It is March 26^th in Dilijan, Armenia. Large flakes of a late winter’s snow brush my cheeks and cling to my eyelashes as I walk slowly back up the hill to our apartment.  I am wearing my fluorescent orange Yak- traks again, having placed them on my boots today after removing them last week, thinking the snow was gone for the year. As unstylish as these accoutrements might be, they do provide a measure of traction when there is new snow and I’ve become dependent upon them as attempts to prevent slips and falls when walking in this wintry land. Oh yes, the bright orange attracts immediate attention in this land of white and black. Some volunteers in other villages have fluorescent lime green ones so they, too, stand out.  Actually, as more local people see me and David in the neighborhood, at school, and downtown, there seem to be fewer quizzical stares than earlier in the winter…..or maybe I don’t notice them as much now.   It is just another way that I as an American and a foreigner tend to stand out as being different. It makes me think about what it would be like to be a minority all one’s life, always receiving stares, shuns or gestures of non-acceptance. At college today more of the staff and faculty were openly and verbally curious about my Yak- traks and one man even said what a good business it would be to sell them in Armenia.  Wouldn’t that be an interesting entreperneural Peace Corps project??? This opened a discussion of safety in this snowy, icy country and the dangers associated with falls and related injuries. My Armenian associates at school do not realize that I am from a warm Southern state in the U. S. and this is more snow than I’ve EVER seen, even when we took skiing trips in our younger days. I’ve shown them on the map where NC, TN, NV and other states are but they mostly respond to CA where many of the Armenian diaspora now live.
 

No Smoking!  but people in Armenia smoke everywhere.............without regard for 2nd hand smoke's effect

         Today, I had ridden the marschutni, our local mode of transportation, from the center of town back to our neighborhood.   Boarding the bus at one of the stops was an elderly man who was smoking a cigarette as he approached the bus. He entered the bus and continued to puff on his cigarette even though there is an ordinance against smoking on public transportation in Armenia. Quite immediately a woman rose from her seat and approached him as he sat down in front of her.  She said loudly, “CHE” (No! in the Armenian language) and waved her finger at his cigarette. She began coughing violently, at times barely able to catch her breath.   The man looked surprised but immediately tossed the cigarette onto the street from a cracked bus window and sat back in his seat.  The woman continued to cough a raspy, dry, non-productive, coarse, irritating cough for the remainder of the trip. She appeared to be struggling with her respirations and would cease coughing briefly only to resume the spasmodic episodes again. Other riders showed little sympathy, staring and pointing at the woman in question.   She had definitely been affected by the second-hand smoke of this unthinking man and others were treating her as if SHE was the problem, not the cigarette smoke which negatively impacted an innocent person.   

        The above incident describes only one situation where individuals are inconsiderate of their fellow Armenians, not to mention how foreigners are treated.  Some Armenians we know actually express embarrassment at their fellow Armenian’s negative behavior. We have found, though, that some people are becoming friendlier towards us.  A young woman who comes to see me weekly to speak English and work on her self-study of our language, typically always brings a gift with her. One day it is a jar of muraba (jam) made by her Mother, another day she brought a small apple. The following week she brought a batch of rose hips strung on string to be used later for rose-hip tea, which she told me is very healthy. 

Rose hips for tea, muraba (jam) , small apple: all gifts from Armenian friends

            Last week as I was returning home, our neighbor called to me from her 2^nd story porch and was waving one of my Yak-traks, its bright orange fluorescence bidding me to retrieve it.   Zepur had found my boot attachment in the snow and saved it for me!!  Co-incidentally, her husband had picked up David who was walking home through the snow that cold day.  As a thank you for these good deeds, I took her freshly baked brownies one evening. She insisted that I come in and share them with her and the family.    Hospitality amongst those we know is evident. Consideration for strangers continues to fluctuate between dismissal and hostility.   As Peace Corps volunteers say to each other when a cultural practice baffles us, “ it’s just Armenia” .   Judy

  

  

THE WHEELS ON THE BUS......in Armenia

                                                                           

There are not many colors seen on the avtobus as I ride home today. I look around…..brown, black, gray, a couple of red coats, a deep purple one, and a pretty, soft salmon-colored jacket worn by a young Armenian woman. There is also one full-length fur coat of unknown variety, worn by a matronly woman who also wears a fluffy, fur hat which appears to be alive and hoping to get off the bus without her. Then there is my warm, navy blue, puffy, down coat with an attached hood. It stands out in the crowd for being different, just as I am different from these Armenian people. We share the service of a reliable yet sadly deteriorating vehicle in pursuit of our separate destinations, yet there is otherwise no sharing of our lives as we ride together. 

The drab colors match the view outside as winter hangs on and spring is yet to come.  More snow will come, the locals tell us newbies to the area.   We hope soon to see the end of what has been a long , harsh, unforgettable winter in Armenia. The people on the bus stare ahead as if in deep thought. We pass one of the many cemeteries in Dilijan. Maybe some are remembering loved ones now resting there.  Others may be considering what to prepare for josh (dinner) when their food supply is low. How many ways can one prepare potatoes, or turnips, or cabbage?  At least these vegetables are available though at higher prices than during their respective seasons. David and I remind ourselves of this fact and that when in Niger as Peace Corps volunteers, it was rare to have vegetables for a meal. 

 The bus is crowded, jam packed, actually. As it sways and turns with each curve in the bumpy street, a woman standing and holding onto the bar above never looks towards me or anyone else.  Her body moves with the motion and sounds of the bus.  Her purple eye shadow matches her purple coat, one of the few splashes of color in view. She is there with the rest of us bus riders but she is somewhere else.  Most people on the bus just sit and stare ahead at some unknown focal point. Their affect is flat; there are no smiles. There is very little chatter although we are told due to Dilijan’s small size, everyone knows everyone else.  Even the young people in the back sit or stand quietly, staring ahead, appearing very homogeneous in their black jackets and fitted jeans. The feel is similar to that when riding with strangers on an elevator and no one knows exactly where to look during the ride up or down.



  Nonetheless, it is a disheveled, fatigued looking collection of people on the bus today.  In spite of my navy blue coat which does not fit in with other local styles and colors, I fit in today because I am disheveled and fatigued just as the other riders are. We’ve all been involved in our individual worlds and the challenges they present and are now just trying to get home where peace awaits us, or at least that is our hope.           



Our apartment, lower level of house



Following the pushing and shoving of riders when I entered the bus in the center of town, I am glad to just have a seat for the few kilometers to my apartment.  As David and my tutor said, “people in Armenia do not like to wait”, meaning that pushing and shoving and cutting in line is excusable. To outsiders trying to adjust to local cultural practices, I do not think so. Yet, we deal with it every day even to the point of seeing a young child almost left at a bus stop as other adults pushed their way onto a crowded bus without regard for  his efforts to board the same bus.



We are glad to have the convenience of a bus stop near our apartment.  Having been accustomed to driving wherever we wished , the Peace Corps policy of no driving by volunteers has been difficult  in some ways.  On snowy, icy days, though, I am glad NOT to try to drive----just to walk and enjoy the beauty of a new snowfall. The color of white glistens and brightens the otherwise drab collections of black, gray and brown around us whether on the bus, on the street, or in our work places. Someone said that Dilijan is most beautiful after a snowfall because all of the old crumbling buildings are covered in white.   The colors on the bus match those of the life in Armenia. There is much darkness but a splash of color now and then makes it bearable. 

We look for those rays of sunshine and usually find them in the faces of the children we meet.   Without those encounters, life would definitely be drab.  

So I ride the bus and observe and look for more color.  Soon it will be spring. Surely then, the landscape and world around us will brighten. So be it………… Judy

The avtobus continues down the street after I get off.  More people are waiting to shove their way onto this vehicle which will take them to their destinations.    Not being able to drive a car in Armenia has certainly been an eye-opener and a real way to experiencee how our friends and neigbors must live all of their lives.

WINTER WONDERLAND, ARMENIA STYLE



Our street 4 days after the last snow.



         The thermometer outside our door reads 16 degrees F this morning. I am bundled up in my down coat, Smart Wool long johns and multiple layers of clothing which I’ve learned to wear on such winter days in Armenia.   The sky is classic azure blue and the snow from this week’s fairy-tale like snowfall still lies abundantly outside out apartment, on the streets and sidewalks, and on any available surface.  Before arriving in Armenia and even months before the winter began and the snows came, I dreaded the idea of the cold.  I complained about it before even experiencing the first drop in temperature! Now I am amazed at myself and at the pleasant feeling I get while walking to school in the snow.                           

I now actually enjoy the crisp winter weather. Hearing the crunch of my boots on the snow’s surface is reassuring. With that crunch comes traction and less of a chance to slip although it still may happen. Now as I walk along, the crunchy sound adds another dimension to the already brisk morning air on my face, and the brightness in my eyes from the snow’s reflection.  It is unbelievably quiet and peaceful this morning. The young children in my neighborhood have already reached their school a few blocks ahead. Older students who attend my college get the day off again today so are probably still buried in their heavy bedding enjoying extra sleep and warmth.  But teachers and staff must report to my college today.  If teachers do not go tol, they are not paid, and there is always planning and preparation for classes which can be done whether students are present or not.



Judy leaving for school on a snowy, January morning.



I am a Peace Corps volunteer and not paid, although many Armenians have a difficult time understanding this concept. I am going to my college today to do lesson planning with my team teacher as well as to merely “show up” and continue my pursuit of being a more familiar and legitimate part of the college’s faculty and staff.  It is difficult to describe the feeling of being an outsider yet an accepted part of the organization at the same time.  This is my challenge as a volunteer teacher of English as a foreign language (TEFL). My college strives to provide a technical education as well as to include courses such as English, Russian, economics, physics and other subjects to enhance a student’s overall education. Many students are poorly motivated to study a difficult foreign language which they must take and did not choose.  The students want to learn to cook, to sew, to repair cars, to work in the tourism industry, for instance.   Any attempt to explain why learning a second and sometimes, third language might be beneficial in the job market often falls on deaf ears.   But it is my aim to do just that and to continue to try and add something to the educational process by interacting with students as a native speaker of English. I want to help the students with communication at all levels and to make the learning of English more appealing through new ideas and teaching techniques. All of this takes planning and coordination with my team teacher who also has goals she must reach both to satisfy the Armenian Education Ministry’s expectations, those of the students and herself.

As I walk to school on this invigorating, snow- filled morning, my pleasant morning is interrupted by the sight of dogs and cats who wander the street before me, searching for food from the street-side garbage cans and a dry place to rest.   My heart goes out to them because as an American, I can’t help but view these animals as pets needing protection from the cold yet in Armenia they are not treated that way.  In a future blog I’ll discuss other aspects of animal life as we’ve seen it in our short time here.  But today, I proceed to the college where other teachers  are arriving, relieved to know that students are spared the endurance of cold conditions while also trying to learn something.  Who know what the following week will bring, however, today the camaraderie of teachers is felt, informal gatherings develop and a measure of planning for future lessons takes place.  My goal of at least being present and taking part is met for today. It is further enjoyed when one small group of teachers invites me to lunch where traditional Armenian salads are served, accompanied by small shots of homemade vodka and Armenian music. These women  lead demanding lives and occasionally need the release of laughter and friendship with fellow teachers to relieve the stress of a cold environment.        



Teachers/friends at Judy's school



  

 Ah, so is the life of an Armenian teacher in the depths of winter!

 Judy

47 in ARMENIA

         
Wedding anniversaries leading up to the 50th may seem insignificant, except to those celebrating them. I'll have to admit that I recall looking at the smiling , white-haired couples in our local newspaper who had reached this pinnacle of married life and thinking, "wow, they are OLD to be married that long". But now we are approaching our own 50th and, yes, I guess we are old in the eyes of many dewey eyed young couples.
Strangely enough, more and more couples are celebrating their 60th anniversaries together so that says something about our life expectancy and state of health, doesn't it?

Last year David and I celebrated our 46th wedding anniversary in Niger,Africa. This unlikely place served us well and we had quite a celebration with our fellow Peace Corps volunteers and staff. (See earlier blog entitled, "46 in Niger").  Now just recently we  celebrated our 47th wedding anniversary in a totally different part of the world where many weddings are arranged and divorce is frowned upon by the prevailing cultural practices. On our 46th we'd never have thought that our 47th would not also be in Niger, however, life has a way of presenting surprises along the way and our move to Armenia was certainly one of them.

Here in Armenia  couples do not usually date as we did in the U.S. and once a young man and young woman are seen in public together, they are generally considered to be engaged. This assumption , if true, is followed by a large party for the couple's family and close friends where their future together is discussed . The wedding is then planned for not too long after this event. Of course, there are exceptions to this chain of events and there is also "bridenapping" , an entirely different side of the marriage picture.

This year for our 47th wedding anniversary we ate alone at Gaucho's, an Argentine steak house which is one of our favorites in Yerevan.  We'd spent the day in meetings at the Peace Corps office and turned down an offer to eat with fellow volunteers so that we could "celebrate" on our own.   The following night we did join the group for pizza at a local restaurant and were asked questions about our marriage, secrets to success, and what it was like last year as we celebrated in Niger, Africa.   For the 47th, this quiet recognition of our many years of married life was perfect---no need for a huge party for EVERY anniversary. The best part was that we were together in a place where we felt committed to staying, despite its challenges and disappointments. For here in Armenia, one must seek the positive in life and our marriage is truly one of them.  Our service with the Peace Corps certainly offers new experiences and chances to learn about a different part of the world as we get older.  We hope our work improves the lives of a least a few people we encounter during this 2 years.

In anticipation of next year's 48th wedding anniversary, neither David nor I will even guess where we'll be. We'll just enjoy the present and deal with the future as it comes.  And, as we near the golden 50th, we'll appreciate the time here in Armenia and wherever in the world we might be, striving for continued good health and the blessings of supportive family and friends around the world.  46 in Niger; 47 in Armenia; 48 somewhere in the world.  Please check in now and then and see where we are.  Judy