thank you; your gift is a rabbit-eared family

I woke up in a panic this morning. Five days left before I leave Stepanavan. Two of those days will be spent doing a camp in a village near here, so in truth, we’re talking three short days here before I cram everything I own, and something things Peace Corps owns, into a taxi and ride to the capital.

Good news, I did not stay sick, and Easter-In-June was a wild success.

Bad news, I don’t have time for a good post. I have pictures to get printed, camp materials to gather, unseen waterfalls to find, and flesh and blood people I need to reach out and touch to remind myself that I’m still here. I’m having that behind-glass feeling again that makes me want to touch everything before it becomes yesterday’s.

I will say that the last few days have included a taco dinner, uncountable and quickly eaten batches of chocolate chip cookies, Easter celebrations, visiting friends, games, long talks, and sunsets that make me cry. What am I saying? Everything is making me cry. Including the crying ladies at the grocery store, the long speeches about how they will miss me and never forget me, and the Clooker sitting down at the desk across from me, then immediately getting up to kiss me, pressing her tears-wet cheek to mine.

I’ve got things to get to. However, I do need to say that you are one of the main reasons I am here right now. I would never have finished Peace Corps with having you to share it with. I came here to put down some words, show my family some photos, and I found friends to write to, people who let share my love of this place. You win. I owe you big time.

Thank you for sticking around. Thank you for forgiving my faults. And thank you for letting me know you’re around, seeing me through this.

I’m not sure if I’ll write in the next week, with all the moving across the planet; however, I assure you that I’ll be writing about readjusting to Texas, and then the move to someplace new, Stateside or otherwise.

In the meantime, here’s a few photos which I promise are worth checking out, if only to see my landfamily wearing rabbit ears. They are amazing. Oh, good grief. The tears again.

a favorite American friend, visiting and playing nardi

kneading pizza dough with aven

americans and armenians heading out to the dasht

well, obviously, if you see an abandoned bus in the middle of nowhere, YOU GET IN

claire and heghmine

a favorite friend and her mom teaching us to make jingyalov hats (herbs bread)

our tatik is cooking; our imogen is dancing to enrique iglesias. enrique always makes us forget our work.

closing the jingyalov hats

jingyalov hats roasting on a stove-closed fire

my coworkers and i hiding in the trees

eating a strawberry. as cute as a strawberry.

eight

one of world vision's social workers

workers jumping. the one second from the left is the clooker!

a totally happy easter!

loot!

 

applying a foam rabbit "tatoo"

I will miss this place. A lot.

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another new year in armenia

On the last night of 2009 I was sitting with my best Peace Corps friend, Zoë, talking late into the evening about New Year’s resolutions.  We almost missed the New Year, and with moments to spare we ran outside with pots and pans to ring in the new year with a metallic clamor.

This year I was invited by my friend and co-worker, Gayane, to spend the evening of the 31st with her family.  When I called to confirm the plans, I found out that they had already prepared a room for me to sleep in after we had toasted and danced and otherwise welcomed in the New Year into the wee hours.

After wishing my mom and sister a happy new year over Skype, I wandered in the dark, calling friends to spread around the holiday cheer.  Of course, without street lights Gayane’s house became hard to find (re: impossible).  Eventually Vartan, Gayane’s husband found me wandering the dark, cold streets.  I finally showed up in time to hang balloons around the newly renovated living/dining room.  Little Rueben assisted me, trying his hardest to blow up the balloons before handing their slobbery spouts over to me to tie.

When the party started, we ate every delicious thing available on an Armenian Nor Tari (New Year) menu:  salads and dolma and khorovats and tkhvatsk and more.  We toasted the New Year, shnor-havoring all around  We danced and stuffed ourselves into a food coma which took us to bed around 2:30am.

The real surprise came in the morning.  After a very strangely dry winter, I woke up, finally, to a white spread over our little Armenian town.  I reached up to wipe a spot in the fogged window of my guest room and gazed out onto that tireless cliché, that winter wonderland.

Being from seasonless Texas, I finally get why people dream of that White Christmas thing.  It’s one of the world’s miracles.  The entire landscape becomes absolutely new.  Streets and homes and trees and hills have a new shape.  The place is quiet, and in between racing out of doors to marvel at the new world, we huddle together near the wood stove or under throw blankets drinking in warmth from tea cups and from the souls of people we love.

After looking outside at this new little town of mine, I crawled back in to bed to write in my journal.  I heard Rueben stumble across the wood floor to look under the Nor Tari tree to see what Grandfather Winter brought he and his brother.  He raced back and yell-whispered, “Maaaa!”  I didn’t hear any movement after that and assumed the tot crawled back into bed wide eyed and anxious.

When they finally woke up, I pulled clothes over my long johns and joined them in the living room.  There the boys played with their gifts.  I immediately dove onto my stomach in front of the new hockey/foosball game and challenged Rueben to a game on the ice. Later we set up a firing range of stuffed animals; Mom, Dad, the boys and crazy uncle Brent took turns with Narek’s new bow & arrow.

Then to breakfast, a comfortable meal of blinchik and tea, before we went out to take on the snow.  We built a snow man which I destroyed with an old car battery. It would have made a cool head for that dzyni mart, but of course I was ignoring physics entirely which I tend to do.  No matter; the chunks of snowy body made a perfect pre-fab pile of snow balls to use in the shortly ensuing battle which ended with a crying three year old and a wet but eventaully triumphant me (take that Vartan jan!).

I left their house thinking I’d go home for a few alone hours before going out to visit more friends, but this holiday wasn’t letting go.  The storybook feel continued as I met an old grandmotherly woman in a magenta bathrobe who talked to me about her hopes for the new year and for whom I shoveled a path from from her home to the road.   Her well wishes followed me down the street while I listened to my Sufjan/Brandon Kinder/Arcade Fire/Destiny’s Child/Vince G Mega Christmas mix, giving my heart again to Sister Winter.

Finally, before coming here to write this blog post I ran into a blonde grandmother with her three grandsons.  She was tugging them on an old metal sled down the sidewalk.  I asked to take their picture which turned into me pulling those tiny boys through the white powder in circles like my own Dad used to do for me on Texas ice days.  The blonde grandmom invited me back to their house in true Armenian fashion and spread before me a feast of pases dolma, beet salad, more vodka, more tkhvatsk and a final cup of Armenian coffee before I walked back out into this white wonder of a town.

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i’ve landed home

Shnor havor Amenor yev Surb Tsnude!  Happy New Year!

It’s been a couple of weeks, I know.  But I have a good excuse.  I have had arguably the best collection of days yet in Armenia.  They were not the typical, wonderful Peace Corps lot though they did include visits with Americans and Armenians and cross-cultural exchanges galore.  But the idea of going over them is very very daunting.  It’s definitely book worthy if I ever end up writing one of those.

But my Christmas was so unexpectedly wondeful I’ll just have to sum it up in a list (partly because I’m intimdated by the task of writing it, and partly because I need to get to my New Year’s party with my Armenian friends!)

So, take this list and imagine it as elements of the lit bit I’ll eventually write:

1. York and Margaux:

Margaux is a volunteer who works and lives down south.  She and York met while completing a graduate study in education.  York came to visit Marguax during his holiday break (he works as a middle school math teacher).  Wanting him to see the country, Margaux brought him up north where they stayed in my house (note wigs which have been worn here.  Thanks Kelly!).  I was on my way south for Christmas, and so I was invited to travel with them.  So it began…

2. Laughing.  I’m not sure I’ve laughed that much in a very very very very very long time.  We started writing down as much of a record as we could take between chuckles and guffaws, 19 pages of scribbles that will likely never make sense to any one other than the three of us.

Ex: “So, now that the meeting’s finished, get me an ice pack, and let’s go shopping.”  Imagine the scenario as you will.  Just know that after a few mornings, we started to complain that our abs literaly couldn’t take much more from our sense of humor.

3. Road trip. A car changes a lot.  Many people who read this blog have cars, share cars, know of a life with a car.  My own little Rodeo is sitting outside my parents’ house back home.  But here I had only traveled by marshutni time tables and taxi drivers’ whims.  After a frigid and cramped ride from Yerevan to my tiny cold town, York rented a car of his own.  This would be his claim to fame among most PC volunteers he encountered who also were boggled by the idea of independent transport.  The idea that we could just stop on the side of the road and take pictures or talk with shop owners or visit a friend: BAFFLING.  Game-changing.  The wind in my hair and US Pop airing from York’s iPod.  A road trip in Armenia that included frantic photo shots out of the car windows, stops in the famed wine country of Vayot Dzor Marz, coffee with wine sellers, and car snacks of lavash and cheese and herbs and walnut rope.   It was like our own Motorcycle Diaries or On the Road or a million other road trip fantasies.

4. Christmas.  The road trip included a holiday which meant good food with good people.  Margaux, York, and I landed in Kapan and teamed up with a few other people to make food for a group of around 30 people who all crammed into Margaux’s tiny apartment.  It went down in typical Armenian style with an unexpected water cutoff (Margaux managed the whole preparation of the meal with less than an hour and a half of water), and with a kind visit from an Armenian neighbor who brought gifts to honor our American holiday (Christmas in Armenia is on January 6th).   When we weren’t eating, we were playing games or watching some requisite Christmas movies (The Nightmare Before Christmas and Rent while making decorations; White Christmas while cooking up a storm; It’s a Wonderful Life during post-cooking nap).

__________

That’s just a little bit of what really was some of the most incredible time I’ve spent in Armenia.  I did end up missing a marshutni and therefore missing my last Christmas party with my World Vision friends in Stepanavan.  I actually almost cried about that at the bus station.  And the days weren’t without their bobbles.  But I am absolutely certain that I have new relationships to be proud of and a year’s worth of experiences packed into a few days.

Thank you, York and Margaux, for a truly amazing trip.  “My abs hurt from all the sorrow.”

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yeah, i got things

The blog world is all on fire with roasting chestnuts and yuletide wreathing and holiday crayoning, etc.  Here in Armenia, the Peace Corps volunteers are all huddled in their houses around PC issued heaters, wearing night caps (or drinking them) and watching the Christmas movies they may or may not have remembered to bring with them from home.  Next week I’ll be heading south to be with friends.  I plan on doing a lot of talking about what I miss from home, things like Elf Dice, sugar cookies, shuffling under the Christmas tree on my back with my tiny sister and looking up through the branches at the blinking lights and old ornaments.  I’ll wish to be gathering the mattresses so that all the sibs can fall asleep together watching The Nightmare Before Christmas; instead I’ll be falling asleep in a room full of dear hearts that have carried me through some tough times away from home.

-

I have gone almost 19 months in this country without eating that delightful–ly endorsed cow stomach and cow hoof stew called khash.  I thought perhaps I’d get away with never chewing a hoof in my life.  Today though, around 5pm the my office friends will gather, and the hoof will be chewed.  It is currently simmering in our office kitchen and the smells is wafting right over and threatening to ruin my apetite for the rest of December.

-

If you want to honor one of the great Christmas contributions of our time (yes I DO mean Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas” [chuckles]) you should absolutely go listent to Kimya Dawson’s other-holiday-themed story from The Moth.  Really.

-

I have a knitting queue for the first time ever.  I’m knitting stuff for people.  I have projects ON THE LINE.  And I think I’m getting carpel tunnel.  Come on, tendons, don’t let me down!  [asks self: 'Am I old?']

-

The other night I was walking home.  It was around 9pm, just me and a quiet, sleepy town.  Oh, and a white horse walking alone up through the street by the square.  The night was wet from an afternoon rain; I stopped and watched the mare saunter slowly toward the museum, her clip-clop the only sound in the winter night.

-

It a very blustery day.  The pine outside my window is pretty much doing tree yoga.  The windows of the museum are shuddering.  I’m fully expecting an animal, maybe a dog (re: Wizard of Oz) or a cow (re: Twister), to fly in front of me while I type this.

-

I’m growing a beard.  I’m following my last year’s precedent, New Year New Face.  I’m getting compliments.  It’s going over much better than ‘the broken brush‘ of yesteryear.   Pictures to come?

-

Merry Christmas.

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shnor havor

An Armenian student waits to go inside on her first day of school.

Today is the first day of September.  Remembering this, I woke up early, ate a bowl of cornflakes and went with camera in hand to congratulate my Armenian landsister on her first day of school.  I had missed her and goofily said, “Shnor havor,” to my landdad as a consolation for missing his daughter’s departure.

It should be noted that Armenians congratulate each other for everything. At work I was shnor-havored by my friend Liana because today is Knowledge Day (don’t I feel smarter now!) and shnor-havored by my friend Armen because today is recognized as the first day of autumn (I made it to another season!).  They’ll congratulate you for your birthday and for your family member’s birthdays or their weddings or their new babies or their babies new babies.  They’ll buy their friend a small gift if he gets a new car.  They congratulate you on new clothes or a good shave.  They just through that appreciation around, and it feels good to get a dose every once in a while.

Here’s another feeling all together.  Today is the first of the last things. I start counting them now.
Today is the last First Bell for me in Armenia. The last Halloween in Armenia is coming up.  The last All Volunteer Conference will happen after that.  There’s no sadness to it just yet because I do have quite a bit more time here.  Mostly, I’m feeling satisfaction.  Shnor havor, me.

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you know those times i’m talking about

You know those times when everything seems to go wrong.  It’s not just a day, but whole weeks at a time.  Those sections of the year where things happen one-after-another, like you miss a flight and pay an of-course-highly-unfair price for a new ticket then you return home to find a mouse has eaten through all your clothes and you go to meet your friends for dinner but your tire is flat so you call them and have a not horrible but mostly inedible meal at a restaurant you wouldn’t have chosen all the while watching as two of your friends (one of whom you were just starting to think liked you) display body language that clearly shows they’re already hooking up so you go home.  The next day you spend thirty minutes looking for your keys only to find that at some point yesterday they slipped through the mouse-chewed hole in your pocket.  You spend another thirty minutes looking for that extra house key which you find in a cardboard box next to a sleeping rattlesnake which takes a dive at you right before you pin it down with your foot.  Heart pumping, you contemplate the sweat which seems to have been released in deluge proportions and think about how you’ll have no time for a shower before work.  Having nothing like shovel or ax handy, and needing to keep all of your body weight on the neck of the rattler, you spy a butter knife on a near shelf and go about a far-to-nasty snake beheading while praying for forgiveness for everything.

Later that day your boss scolds you for being late to work and breathes fire that singes your hair to nubs and sets three weeks of file organization ablaze.  Thinking you’re just about over it, you decide to take a bus home but the bus has been rigged by a terrorist or Dennis Hopper or somebody and has to go above 50 mph or it will explode.  You take the wheel after the driver’s been shot and you figure at least you’ll have a love interest to guide you through the ordeal but it turns out to just be Keanu Reeves who looks at you with the same scowl over and over because apparently someone somewhere told him that was reassuring.

After the bus thing has been resolved you figure you’ll write about it on your blog but the internet is out so there you are alone in your house with nothing to do but sort through your mouse-hole clothes.  You take a box of totally demolished shirts and pants out to the curb and just as you’re setting it down by the trashcans a plane engine crashes into the roof of your house totally demolishing the east side along with your neighbors row of freshly planted lilies and possibly their dog as well which may now be under the dog house which is also under the plane engine.

Your neighbors run out of their house screaming about a broken gas line and the whole neighborhood starts scattering.  A few of you end up running all the way to the beach where you find a row of beached sperm whales each with a small group of children next to it, crying and singing to the ocean beasts.  One of the kids is bald and has leukemia.  The whole scene is suddenly backlit when your neighborhood explodes.

You tell all of this to your friend, who once you’ve finished says, “You live by a beach?!”

___________________

Ok… my weeks haven’t been so bad.  And I won’t bore you with the minutia, but I will say that on the third of July I traveled with my dog to the capital to have her spayed.  I then went to a town by the lake to celebrate the Fourth with friends.  However, I ended up with a stomach flu that kept me in bed while they had their lake times.  And I called the vet who was supposed to scoop out the puppy ovaries who instead told me that no scooping could be done on account of the colony of worms living in the puppy’s abdomen (despite the many worm treatments I’ve given her).  So, plagued with wormy guilt, I now have to take her back home, forget the weekend that went totally wrong and figure out when the heck I can make the multi-day trip back to the capital for puppy scooping, a trip that will inevitably involve me cancelling plans and praying pleasejesus don’t let her go into heat any time soon.

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sunny-side up

Eeeek…. that last post, geez what a downer.  On the fair side: I really do feel like there’s a some ringing bell, some kind of constant droning reminder of things I find difficult about being a Peace Corps volunteer.  On the other side: Self, lighten up already.

Between the last post and now I have:

-Welcomed the newest group of volunteers to Armenia.
-Slept in a bed with a real mattress and American style pillows.
-Used Tivo to watch this while eating pizza THAT WAS DELIVERED TO THE DOOR.
-Visited the old host family.
-Celebrated Children’s Protection Day in the capital where, among other city-wide celebratory efforts, grocery store workers everywhere painted their faces.
-Coinciding with the above, I greeted a pig in a mini-skirt who was very impressed I knew Armenian.  I was very impressed she had a huge pig head.
-Taught the landfamily how to play Sequence (WHICH THEY LOVE).
-Welcomed a soon-to-depart friend for a visit to my town.  Planned a ridiculous amount of food to cook and consume, as PCV’s tend to do.
-Bought a blender for said food ventures.
-Cursed the blender which allowed water to trickle out of the base.
-Watched The Shining.  Did a considerable amount of holding a knife and running around the living room like the terrified Shelley Duvall.
-Woke up at 6am, resolving to take the blender back and spending the next thirty minutes watching the sunrise and playing through scenarios in which I argue with the Armenian shopkeeper.
-Read.
-Went to the appliance store.  Told them about the dripping.  Was pleasently surprised when they actually gave me money back.
-Got the most incredible letter from my almost-8-years-running penpal.
-Dropped mouth open when I saw it would be 85 by the afternoon.
-Melted.

Uvsyo.  Now to finish writing my triannual report.

Also, look at the gorge by my town!

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iranian, mexican, tegan and sara in the city

I’ve written before about how much I love Yerevan sometimes.  I was just in Yerevan again and experienced some old and new favorite things:

Old:
1.  Even though it has only been open a couple of months, and even though I don’t even live in this city, the fact that I’ve eaten at Yerevan’s Taco Maco 9 times in a collective 7 days means this is already an old favorite.  And they’ve updated the menu to include a Grande Nacho.  GRANDE. NACHO. Six years ago, my first major travel experience (to New Zealand for two months) ended when I finally landed in Dallas and saw my family run at me at the airpot.  They took me immediately to Taco Bell.  When we arrived they went to the bathroom and left me standing at that little zig-zaggy queue maze looking up at the menu.  I cried.
If you have been in a simalar situation, you know what it means for me to look up at a sign here in Armenia that says GRANDE NACHO, order it, and then taste exactly what you were hoping to taste.

2. The Vernissage. I’ve travelled quite a bit, been in many places famous for their open air markets (all over Central America, Rome, Italy, India, Thailand).  But this market, right here in Armenia is by far the best market I’ve ever been to.  It you pop out of the metro on Nalbadyan Street, you’re right there at the tip of it.  There it starts with men who have spread out blankets before them, placed all their wares out in the sun.  You start there with bits and pieces of machines, old tools, parts of blenders and hair combs.  Then there are men selling cassete tapes and pirated DVDs.  Then your in the thick of it with book sellers and tourist trapping stalls with trinkets and clothes sporting Armenian flag colors.  There are traditional knit-wear sellers and skeins and skeins of handspun yarn.  You spin around in this places moving from finely woven metal works to intricatally carved nardi boards.  There is room for everything, binoculars, telescopes, stethoscopes and surgical clamps.  You can find fake teeth, antique dishes, and old fur coats.  There’s a section for medicine by the kilo and an aisle where you’ll find short poodles and rough looking puppies with, per Armenian vogue, amputated ears.   I am in love with this place and spent the sunny afternoon walking down hallways made by hanging rugs and then through a seemingly endless art gallery stretching along the outside sidewalk.

The New:

1. I have listened to Tegan and Sara’s “Call It Off” at every opportunity.  I played it for friends in Yerevan as soon as we were near computers.  And when far from iPod or Mac, it played in my head.  Since I have very limited access to new music, I have been exploring the far corners of my own collection.  This is the latest additions in the playlist called, “I Didn’t Know I Had It So Good.”

2. Persian New Year!! Edetun mobarak (or something Farsi-sounding like that)!  Armenian universities have a good number of Iranian students looking for a cheaper education and a chance to experience another country.  This weekend was Persian New Year and I met two incredibly warm and jovial groups of Iranians.  Saturday night I went to a small gathering at a friend of a friend’s.  Shortly after I introduced myself,  a small woman in a black dress and heels spread her arms out with a loud, “Ssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”  Everyone paused long enough to hear the faint Iranian tunes playing on an iPhone.  Almost silently the group of about ten people silently shook their booties and nodded their heads.  Silent dancing was then later recommenced multiple times by an older, clearly vodka loving man, who would say, “Don’t! Say!… Anymore!”  Everyone would laugh and then silently dance to the iPhone.  Later they gave up on the iPhone and sang themselves and snapped in a way I previously didn’t know was possible.  The other group included an English speaking guy who very modestly admitted that he was studying English because he wanted to see the world.  He had driven in a van with his friends a full day from Tehran, making his first hopeful journey of many more to come.

I am more and more loving Yerevan.  The outdoor cafes are starting to open.  The Vernissage vendors are packing those few blocks with fresh wonders.  And Taco Maco helps me survive.

I’m now reminded of our World Vision retreat which ended in grand finale with a song.  When I asked what the song was about, I we beffuddled to find that they weren’t singing about God but about how wonderful Yerevan is.  It’s not heaven, sure, but it is pretty nice.

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These are the most interesting photos I’ve taken so far.  In a nearby village where our World Vision office does some work, they celebrated Military Day.  Two schools formed teams of high form students and battled in games that included pull-ups, demonstrations of First-Aid knowledge, and gun reassembly.  The day was fantastic actually, culminating in a feast of horovats and numerous toasts to cooperation, children’s growth, and country preservation.  A great day.

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2009makers

Tell me you forgot that I said I’d post a bunch of lists about the decade and the year and resolutions, etc.  I still may post some of them, but a bunch of lists are not really on the way.  However, what is on the way, in just a few sentences actually, is a list of what made up my 2009.  I’d say it was a significant year, on that marked a lot of change, one that solidified some same-olds, and one that will likely be a turning point for me.  So without further ado, my 2009makers:

1. Moving

my roost in kolkata

2009 began with me gearing up for the year after a couple months gearing down on the island in Panama in late 2008.  I had just moved home and was enjoying small town Texas in every way, making some cash at  Mom’s beading table, celebrating an exciting inauguration with the pint-sized sister.  But soon it was off to Kolkata where I lived for a couple of months.  There was teaching of ultimate frisbee to my brothers in the slum, copious amounts of carrom board playing and mango chop eating, and there was the most heart-wrenching cry of my entire life, right there in front of my indian Dada and Didi.  Then it was back home for an intense, take-it-all-in two months, and finally a big heaping move to Armenia.  Through the year I’ve moved from one country to another 4 times, been in six different countries (the U.S., India, England, Austria, Armenia and Georgia), and lived with four different families (including two host family stays in Armenia).
In 2010 I think I’ll be settling-in, planning on staying in the country for the whole year.  It will be the longest I’ve gone without leaving by plane to another country since I graduated high school.  And it’s not even my country.   But at least I’ll be settled for a bit.

2. New Holidays

a renegade band of colored kids on a holi parade

This year I have new favorite holidays.  The one that will stick out as not only a favorite holiday (just under Christmas with the fam, of course) but also my favorite travelling experience, is Holi.  Of course, I’ve only experienced a Kolkata version, but that version was so moving, that I will forever hope to recreate it and likely never will.
Just under that, I’d have to say, is Armenian Nor Tari.  The hospitality is wonderfully overwhelming; days and days of being an honored guest feels down-right humbling and sustaining at the same time.

This was also the first year I’ve experienced holidays dedicated to a town (re: Yerevan Day, Stepanavan Day, Vanadzor Day, all of which I celebrated).  There was also some holiday back in September, I think, through which we celebrated the Armenian church finding Jesus’s cross.  I took home some basil, but to be honest, I’m really not sure what all that was about.

flat me on a pumpkin

This was also the year in which, because I was missing my traditional versions, my family holidays were recreated in new ways.  A paper me was present during Halloween festivities while I hosting my own version with my new Armenian friends. (Flat Me also made it to Thanksgiving and Christmas, too!) Thanksgiving was a 100 person celebration at the All Volunteer conference, and the 2009 American Christmas was both an undesirable in-country event, and one that I will hold dear to my heart thanks to Skype.

3. Family Love

half the Kolkatan family sitting with new dishes in their partially constructed new home

First, I’ll say that this year I got lovin’ not only from my own family, but also from families in the UK (who housed me and fed me when I was stranded in England), India (in so many ways I can’t even count), and Armenia (through dance parties, games of UNO,  laughter and more laughter).

Still, it was a unique and amazing year to be me amongst my wonderful family.  Certainly this isn’t the first year in which I’ve received love from my family.  I’m one of the lucky one’s who’s gotten incredible love since the plus sign appeared (or however that worked in the ’80′s).  But this year was a year so full of family love that it deserves a list within a list.  So, Ways My Family Has Made Me Feel Unbelievable Lucky To Be Alive:

-In 2008, instead of having a usual gift-exchange-type Christmas, my family pooled money and sent it with me to Kolkata in January ’09.  With it, we were able to help Kolkata City Mission build a home for one family in an urban slum.   And I was blessed enough to be both in the living room when my family gave me that gift, and in the new living room with that Indian family.  There’s one 2009 moment I will never forget.
-There was also the parents help with getting ready for Armenia, the shoes, the sleeping bag, the million little things that would make my stay in Armenia so so much better.
-The Farewell Fishfry thrown by my family and my Dad’s brother and sister-in-law, and my grandmother.  The family gathered some of my favorite hometowne-ers for the fiesta.  Love.
-The first softball game in which the little sister pitched.  She didn’t walk a batter ’til the last inning.  And the big sister and I sat and cheered more than I’ve ever cheered for anything, and I forgot anyone else existed outside the three of us and the one striking-out.
-The daily emails from my brother that have kept my soul alive.
-The skype convos late at night (early in my morning) with my Texas fam.
-Packages from home stuffed with the most awesome gifts, like refried beans, socks, cribbage board, flash drives, sesame street coloring book, chips and dip, candy canes and puppy chow.
-Facebook albums of Flat Me enjoying holidays at home.
-Texts, phone calls, emails, letters, and a halloween card that had many Armenian’s giggling and had me explaining the word ‘tentacle’.
-And more.

4. Reading Reneissance

This has been a little while in the making, but I’d say this year has seen me reading more than I have in a long while.  It’s no 133 books or anything, but I’ve read more books this year than I have in any year since probably the sixth grade (I was a REAL reader from ages 5-12.  Then I just… wasn’t.)  This year I’ve found a new favorite (Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury) and found in books a revived inkling to write more and more and more (Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott).
I’ve also been completely inspired by blog writers and have, in 2009, become a regular reader of a few.  Perhaps its because I’m way the heck away from my culture. But blogs have been the center of my reading reneissance this year and have made me hopeful about the future of the written word.  You’ll find my favorite reads on the right, and here are my best 2009 discoveries:
- Monkey See, NPR’s pop-culture blog.  She’s funny in my favorite, witty, we-should-really-get-over-ourselves-slash-appreciate-each-other kind of way.  And she’s ok with loving Survivor.  Check.
-/Film, read this and you will forever be at the cusp of cinema trivia.
-Circle Me Confused, in the world of Peace Corps Blogs, I really like this one.  Simple, unpretentious, charming.  More blogs should have that kind of voice.
-Hootenannie, as far as blogs-as-journals go, this one is welcoming.  Processing some gritty stuff online can be tricky, but right now she’s doing it with charm, wit, and a determination to keep sane.  And among bloggers who are my actual friends in non-virtual life, I think she’s kind a trend.  Like when a group of friends all love something unique, like fingerless gloves or Parcheesi.  We all love reading Annie’s blog.  And we all want to/are excited about meeting her.   Maybe one day I will?  Until then, reading on.

Alright, that’s enough words on 2009.  Now, onward and upward into 2010…

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