Filed under: Le Retour — Tags: Le Retour — Adrineh @ 5:13 pm July 10, 2011
I’ve always been fascinated by how people live: how people spend their days, how they make decisions on what they will do on any given day. I think this stemmed from a childhood belief that everything was possible, that on any given day, at any given moment, you had an infinite number of possibilities of how you choose to spend your time on this earth and so it led me to wonder how people decide what they’re going to do and how they’re going to go about doing it.
Growing up, to be honest, is a bit of a disappointment. I realized that though there are many different ways to live, so many of us are the same, so many of us choose to do things like everyone else, and what I thought was an infinite number of possibilities is now a finite number — even worse, it’s a small finite number. Worse yet was realizing that not everyone is afforded the same possibilities, that not everyone has equal opportunities in this world. The injustice in this world still affects me deeply today — it just doesn’t manifest the same way as it did before.
Growing up means to accept things as they are (or even if you question the order of things, you still accept that this is how we have created the world to be). On a personal level, growing up means to settle in your life, to narrow your choices, to choose a certain path.
When I was younger, I thought adults knew everything: you could ask any adult any question and he or she would have the answer. And so for me, growing up was being able to know everything, which became a goal to strive toward and so, believe it or not, I looked forward to “being grown up” so I could know everything. Well, you already know how this story ends, and so this became disappointment number two growing up.
Having realized growing up did not mean knowing everything, I focused on my other mission of knowing how people live. I became fascinated with travelling, for I thought I would be able to acquire more examples of how people live (I was older, but as is evident, not yet “grown up”).
Adults would tell me, yes, good, go travel, see the world before you get married, buy a house, have kids and settle down (more or less in that order). I never agreed with that approach because even if I did decide to get married and/or buy a house and/or have children, why should that affect whether I travel or not? You can travel with your spouse and with your kids or you can travel alone — you just have to make the necessary arrangements. And now that I’m older, I still believe that that way of thinking is somewhat flawed, but I have realized something else: it’s not that you get “settled” with the combination of spouse/house/children, but it’s that you get settled in yourself. You become settled in your ways and perhaps more resistant to change. Or, as I said earlier, you choose a certain path in life and this inevitably narrows your choices, and it’s not that you can’t travel, but it’s that you choose other things over travelling — your priorities change and you become accustomed to your life.
However, I have to say, travelling (or more so these days, the thought of travelling) still stirs something in me and I still feel like a kid at heart. Though perhaps I am “grown up,” I still think my life could go in any number of directions and that’s exciting. Sure, things are a little bit more clearly defined now and yes, my options are narrower (let’s be honest, I’m not going to be an astrophysicist or fly to the moon or raise horses for a living in this lifetime), but I still believe that many things are possible. There is still much to do in this life and I never tire of the challenges it brings me.
And maybe that is the great thing of growing up: because as much as in my eyes as a child everything seemed possible, sometimes this was too much, too daunting, and I felt out of focus. Growing up has meant for me being more focused, organizing my priorities, and more clearly defining who I am and what my place is in this world. I realize that the directions my life has taken is because of choices I made. And that’s a wonderful feeling.
I think if we could all say that about our lives the world would be a much better place. What do you think? And how do you live?
Filed under: Le Retour — Tags: Le Retour — Adrineh @ 7:06 pm June 26, 2011
Even the most well-intentioned people, those who are tolerant of gays — you know the type: they have friends who are gay or they know people who are gay, they say they don’t have a problem with gay people, etc. etc. — can be really frustrating to deal with.
In Yerevan, I have met straight people who hang out with queers, who are tolerant (as much as I hate this word), who support equal rights for all peoples. These people would stand out against injustice in any form and if someone attempted to physically hurt another person because he was gay, they would be up in arms in a second to defend him.
But too often I find that this “tolerance” has a limit, a boundary which cannot be crossed. Sometimes this limit has to do with queers raising or adopting kids, sometimes it has to do with gay marriage and sometimes it’s just simply being out as queer. And then there’s the disparity when it comes to men and women (and let’s not even talk about the disparity when it comes to acceptance of sexual preference vs. acceptance of gender identity): Too often in Yerevan (as I have no doubt elsewhere) I have come across straight guys who say they have no problems with lesbians but thinking about two men having sex is just disgusting (զզվելի) and unnatural (բնական չի).
True Story
I had the unfortunate experience of entering into such a conversation with two men yesterday at a friend’s house. There were 8 of us — 6 girls and 2 guys — with 4 of us being queer. As happens all too often, despite women being in the majority (and in this case, half of us being queer identified), it was the 2 men who spoke the most and took up the most space. And in this case, both men (partners of two of the women) were “tolerant” and, I would say, supportive of LGBT rights (including them among the umbrella of human rights), but they simply couldn’t imagine two guys together (there goes that word again: “disgusting”) and would really just wish queer folks would keep their business in their bedroom.
One of the guys even used the mother of all arguments: ազգի զարկացում (the development of the nation), meaning queers can’t procreate so our people would die off which proves his point that being gay is unnatural. Of course I tried to explain that everything still works and we were just as capable of having children as straight people and of course I could’ve tried to calm his “fears” that our people, the nation, the world wasn’t about to become 100% gay so he could relax, but do you think he even heard me?
And these straight, again I say well-intentioned, tolerant guys (let’s call them WI.T guys for short) usually talk too much, take up too much space (even though they believe women too should have equal rights as men — as if we need them to affirm this fact for us) and don’t realize how much space they take up and how much their discourse is just as dominant — if not more so in this day and age — as the one that says queers should go to hell. Because the saddest part of all this is that they SEE themselves as tolerant, as open-minded and as above those who believe that all us queers should be rounded up and shipped straight to hell (or at least get a good beating).
This WI.T guy used words such as առավելություն (“advantage”) and “propaganda” and ցուցամոլություն (“ostentation”) to describe queers today. He argued that oppressed groups (citing differently abled people in Armenia as another example) now have the advantage. That he supports them/us, but does not support the “propaganda” of the LGBT community (he didn’t use the words “LGBT community,” I did) and doesn’t understand why we have to be all up in his face anyway (the “ostentation”). No surprise then that he was against a pride parade in his city.
Now how, tell me how, can I explain to this WI.T guy that as tolerant as he is (or thinks he is), he still doesn’t get it, and how insulting and derogatory his choice of words and comments are?
Yes, I agree that the state has no place in our bedrooms, but until there are equal conditions, until equality is viewed as the norm and not something to be tolerated or given to us by the patriarchy, until that day comes, we have to have a parade, we have to come out, we have to say we exist, that we are here and we’re not going anywhere because if we don’t, you’ll trample all over us and our rights. Because even though you might “accept” us, you don’t SEE us, you still don’t make room for us at the table, your revolution doesn’t recognize that it has to include LGBT folks and that our voices have to be heard. And I’m not even talking about questioning his notions of what is natural and “unnatural.”
Photo of two men kissing: A. Sneider/zefa/Corbis (retrieved from Flickr on Jun. 26, 2011)
Public Displays of Affection
There’s another issue here too that my GF pointed out: public displays of affection are not tolerated. So when this WI.T guy says he takes issue with two guys making out next to him, it’s not only the fact that they’re two guys (though we’re not dismissing this fact), but also because they’re making out publicly.
The real-life true story that Mr. WI.T tells me and my GF is as follows: two guys at a table next to him in a cafe in Yerevan were all over each other — I mean they were practically having sex, he says — and when he asks the server to talk to them and she says, now, come on, don’t put me in that position, meaning she doesn’t want to be the bad guy, she doesn’t want to seem that she’s not tolerant of LGBT folks, I think, good for her. And I want to know what cafe is this and how amazing is it that two guys can make out in public in Yerevan and the staff doesn’t want to bother them, but what brings me joy actually causes him discomfort and unease and he wonders why he has to stay silent just because he’s straight. I try to explain the concept of reclaiming space, of when there is no space for you, you have to take it where you can and you have a right to that space as much as anyone else. But he sees only an unfair “advantage”: he asks the server if they were a heterosexual couple would she say something and she says yes, and so, I guess, believe it or not, he feels oppressed as a straight person in that situation.
But to get back to the title of this post, why Yerevan needs a pride parade: even the Well-Intentioned, Tolerant guys, even the human rights defenders and activists, even those who will stand beside us and be our allies and supporters — even these groups of people don’t realize what it means to be queer and live in this society, why we need to be reclaim space and why even though he may be tolerant, deep down he thinks that being gay is unnatural, that queers shouldn’t raise kids, we shouldn’t marry or attend church, and that really everything would be so much better if we didn’t exist and complicate his world.
Making Comparisons
And though I know this problem exists everywhere in the world, I can’t help but compare Yerevan and Toronto, a city that is celebrating Pride Week this week culminating in the city’s 31st Pride Parade on July 3. Thirty-first! According to the official Pride Toronto website, Pride Toronto has been in existence in various forms since the late 1970’s and annually since 1981 — more or less 10 years after the Stonewall Riots, 17 years before Amsterdam celebrated its first Gay Pride in 1996 and 24 years before Istanbul did in 2003, making Toronto Pride one of the world’s longest running organized Pride celebrations.
Photo of Toronto Pride Parade 2008: Wikimedia Commons (Neal Jennings from Toronto, Canada)
When I am confronted with WI.T guys, I can’t help but recall the Stonewall Riots in New York City in 1969 and the police raid of bathhouses in Toronto in 1981 that prompted queers and our supporters to organize demonstrations in which we fought for our rights — human rights — and drew attention to, raised awareness of and educated the masses on the plight of LGBT people in heterosexist societies.
Interesting to note in the Council of Europe report was the double discrimination that lesbian and bisexual women face in Armenia — particularly ironic after speaking to WI.T guys in Armenia who discriminate against gay men but not lesbian or bisexual women:
“The family may be experienced by LGBT persons as an institution of immediate social control. This imposes expectations on the gender roles of boys and girls alike, which can be problematic for LGBT children who do not meet them. NGO representatives in Armenia, Azerbaijan, Georgia and Turkey stressed the double discrimination facing lesbians and bisexual women in those states. As women, they are expected to marry and have children, and until they do they must come home directly from the workplace and not go out alone. Family honour is an influential concept.”
But Why a Pride Parade?
I’d like to end this post from a quote by a woman in the video (below) by Toronto-based group Queers Against Israeli Apartheid which should be recalled any time someone says they are ok with gay people, but are opposed to pride parades:
“Any kind of freedoms and liberations and rights that have been achieved has been achieved through the struggles of queer people and other oppressed people.” Pride parades or demonstrations are a part of that history of struggle.
Filed under: Le Retour — Tags: Le Retour — Adrineh @ 10:29 pm June 25, 2011
Last week I (as well as my friend Kara Leva, it seems) was contacted by Elif Kayi for a story on the opinions and experiences of real queer bloggers following the cases of a Gay Girl in Damascus and LezGetReal.com — both instances where straight men were masquerading as queer woman online. I’m republishing Elif’s article (originally published online at EMAJ magazine) in full below:
Everybody has heard about “her.” For a few days, “she” had become the most famous queer woman in the Middle East, maybe even in the whole world. Amidst other worrying news, such as the violent repression carried out by the Syrian regime against segments of the population, the abduction of “queer blogger” Amina Abdallah Araf al Omari, presumbably by a group of armed men supposedly members the Baath Party security services or a militia, provoked a massive outcry amongst the international gay community. Support pages were immediatly created in mainstream social media such as Facebook, with slogans such as “Free Syrian Blogger Amina Abdallah a.k.a “Gay Girl in Damascus”.”
Bloggers and journalists active in social media closely followed the story, which once again reminded us of the vulnerability of bloggers in some countries, when they try to inform about their situation in those places. In this case, the blogger was said to be a young lesbian woman, describing her everyday life. Some people thought that her story would bring to light a reality often hidden: the everyday life of gay people. And despite the turmoil surrounding the “abduction,” the story was in fact revealing an issue to the general public, including readers who might normally be hostile, or at least indifferent to such stories. At least, it was news.
This is how Tom MacMaster, a Scottish student from Edinburgh, based in Istanbul, tried to justify his actions when it was finally revealed that the blog “A gay girl in Damascus” had been created not by “Amina” but by Mr. MacMaster. After the hoax was discovered, MacMaster wrote in his blog: “While the narrative voice may have been fictional, the facts in this blog are true and not misleading regarding the situation on the ground. I do not believe I have harmed anyone — I feel that I have created an important voice for issues I feel strongly about.”
Shortly after this, another hoax was revealed. A 58-year-old retired construction worker from Ohio, Bill Graber, admitted to the Washington Post that he had run the US-based lesbian website “LezGetReal.com“ under the name of Paula Brooks.
The gay community’s condemnation was merciless. For example, GayMiddleEast.com wrote: “Shame on you!!! There are bloggers in Syria who are trying as hard as they can to report news from their country. (…) We have to deal with more difficulties than you can imagine. What you have done has harmed many, put all of us in danger, and made us afraid to continue our (…) activism.”
These cases have cast extreme suspicion on blogs and bloggers. Even our magazine EMAJ received this comment after the publication of a post by the reporter Jasmin Roman: “Touching posts, but after all the fake bloggers being discovered, how do we know you are not like the rest? We have fake “pro”, fake “against” and now we have an “in the middle.” This “in the middle” sets quite well with the apologists in the West… Anyway, “Gay Girl” was interesting to read, even though “she” was a “he.” Your stuff is also interesting to read, and from the audio interview we know at least that you are a “she”.”
But getting back to the “queer blogosphere,” let us not evade the fact that there are often people who question the accuracy of information published in blogs, who minimize the problems described, who analyze them with a socio-moralist biais before getting to the point. So what could be better than the discovery of ”fake blogs” to discredit blogs in general?
Adrineh Macaan is a young woman, currently based in Armenia, working for an NGO based in Yerevan that publishes news online in four languages -Armenian, Russian, English and Turkish. Since 2008 she has run her own blog: “My blog is about my experiences as a lesbian Armenian woman originally from Toronto, Canada, but now living in Yerevan, Armenia. I write about my own experiences and things as I see them. I try to connect different issues and build bridges between communities, topics and countries. I started my blog in 2008 when I was planning a summer holiday trip to Paris, Amsterdam and Yerevan — three cities close to my heart. A colleague suggested I start a blog to document my travels and as a way of keeping in touch with family and friends back home. Since then the blog has evolved and the focus is more on local issues, being a repat in Armenia, being queer in Armenia and so forth.”
As to whether she has encountered problems running her blog, Adrineh says: “I haven’t encountered any difficulties (no hate mail or inappropriate comments left on the blog). On the contrary, I’ve only received positive feedback!” This is also the opinion of another female Armenian blogger, Kara Leva, currently studying law at the French University in Yerevan and involved in volunteer activities at the Women’s Resource Center in Armenia. “As I’m a social activist and liberal feminist, my blog is about social problems in Armenia, such as the uneducated class, which Armenias call “qyartu”, about violence — domestic violence, violence against women and child abuse — and about incidents in my life which I think about and discuss in my blog with my 1000-plus readers! I write about many other things which concern me personally. But I’ve never received hate mail. Sometimes I have had unfriendly comments under my posts, which I edit and post because everyone has their own point of view about different issues. I’ve never faced difficulties running my blog and so far I’ve received the support of my journalist and blogger friends.”
Regarding the reaction of friends and relatives, Kara emphasizes the positive impact of her blog: “They read my blog and start to understand, feel and know me better: how I see my life, as well as the daily social life of my country.” There is one limitation, however: “I never write things about politics.”
Not everyone in Adrineh’s circle knows about her blog: “My immediate family and close friends know about it, as do those who follow me on Twitter, but my extended family or anyone who I haven’t come out to, doesn’t. It’s a fine line: I don’t intentionally evade telling them — for example if someone asked me directly, I would tell them I have a blog, but I don’t go out of my way to tell them about it either. There is also the issue of language since my blog is exclusively in English, and not everyone has Facebook and Twitter or reads blogs. Even close family members who know I have a blog don’t read it regularly, so sometimes I send them a link to a post I wrote so they know what’s going on with me.”
About the everyday problems they face as lesbians in Armenia, Kara depicts a rather difficult situation: “I’m always facing problems like hate speeches by homophobic people around me and the no less homophobic Armenian society. I have fewer rights and I can’t express myself and my opinions as a lesbian. I always feel the psychological violence of the society in which I live.” Adrineh published an article about the issue in the queer Arab magazine “Bekhsoos” in 2010, in which she stated: “In a country where the rights of LGBT people are not protected, there’s no legislation that prohibits discrimination against LGBT folks, there’s never been a pride parade and no establishments are eagerly posting up rainbow stickers in their front windows, an out gay venue is hard to come by. But that doesn’t mean we don’t exist.”
And so the internet is one way to exist, at least for the general public… As many other bloggers, Adrineh was shocked about the revelation of the story of the “hoaxes”: “After the first case came out, I was appalled, but when I heard about the second case, I thought, who would’ve thought that the editor of a lesbian-focused website would turn out to be a man as well! A gay male blogger friend of mine said he didn’t know that being a lesbian blogger had become fashionable! That made me laugh. Who knew I was in vogue?”. But seriously, I was quite offended and surprised at MacMaster’s response, that he didn’t know he would hurt people or that things would get so out of hand. What were you thinking would happen, I want to ask. Apparently, both men wrote as women in order to be taken more seriously, which I also find surprising since as far as I can remember it’s always been women who’ve written as men to be taken more seriously.”
“It was the manipulation of a man who was using the pictures of an unknown girl. Had the girl whose pictures were being misused not gone public, people all over the world might have continued to believe this story about a girl supposedly kidnapped for her sexual orientation,” said Kara. She added, “But I can assure you this story had no influence on my blog. I think this is because I haven’t come out officially.”
All kidding aside, Adrineh concludes: “In the end I think these men did more harm than good. Even if they had good intentions, as MacMaster claimed he had, it doesn’t matter now, because what they did will have an effect on anonymous bloggers and activists who need to protect their identity while reporting on crucial issues. Though I have to say that being anonymous is preferable to posing as someone else: at least in the case of the former, you know that the person is anonymous (who can be male or female, straight or gay), but in the case of the latter, you are deceived about that person’s identity.”
Filed under: Le Retour — Tags: Le Retour — Adrineh @ 12:19 am June 10, 2011
At the roundtable on sexual violence against women in Armenia yesterday, listening to co-founder and executive director of the Women’s Resource Center of Armenia (WRCA) Lara Aharonian talk, followed by remarks by deputy head of the Department for Crimes Against the Individual of the RA General Prosecutor’s Office Artur Davtyan and finally, deputy head of the Armenian Police Department of Juvenile Affairs Artur Vardanyan, I came to a very simple conclusion — we don’t speak the same language.
We all seem to be talking about the same thing and sorta-kinda saying the same things, but not really. While Lara was speaking about public perception of sexual violence, gender stereotypes and lack of resources in Armenia to support survivors of all kinds of abuse (and waiting till the end of her remarks to start throwing around some numbers), the two Arturs were, understandably on their guard, praising the work that their respective state agencies have done and apparently continue to do.
Photo by Liana Aghajanian
Neither of the representatives of the state agencies actually addressed the social, cultural concerns Lara raised — but then can you blame them? What did we expect them to say? For one thing, the fact that they were there meant at least that they were sympathetic to the issues raised — or that they felt the need to show that they were sympathetic. Of course they would cite articles from Armenia’s criminal code that charge perpetrators of sex-based crimes (Articles 138 through 142) and of course they would be explain their work in more detail, what they’ve done, what’s involved, what role they can play, because after all, we must understand, their job is not easy.
But what these two men couldn’t see — and interesting to note that the state agencies were represented by men while the NGO working to address the same issues was represented by a woman — what they couldn’t see is the human factor. The larger, societal, macro issue reflected in the micro day-to-day of our lives as women in this country, in this society, in this world. PINK Armenia president Mamikon Hovsepyan tried to at least draw attention to this by asking the men to put themselves in the woman’s shoes, think for a minute what it must be like… alas, I think the experience was lost on them.
One of the participants at the roundtable asked whether police would intervene in a domestic violence situation if the woman in the household was not the one who came forward herself, but, say, for example, a concerned neighbor called the police. Both Arturs responded in turn (it was hard to recall who said what, though the one from the general prosecutor’s office was more eager and forthcoming) that yes, police would investigate the incident; however, they could not actually launch criminal proceedings without the survivor coming forth herself. Which begs the question: Is there no legal obligation by police to intervene (i.e. in the interest of public safety) regardless of whether a victim (and I use the term here as it is understood in the judicial system) has come forth or not? Is there such a precedent in other countries?
The representatives, in my opinion, also did not effectively address the oft-stated complaint by NGO representatives and human rights activists that penalties for sex-based crimes in Armenia are quite lenient. Artur Davtyan stated that many factors are taken into consideration when determining the penalty for a sex offender, explaining that legal battles can be quite complex and proving that a crime occurred in such cases can be very difficult — not that this helped any of us feel any better. Neither did it show that he was viewing the situation from the perspective of the survivor. But again I ask, what did we expect? He was just doing his job.
And that is what frightens me. Even the well-meaning, well-intentioned people working in state agencies (if the two Arturs can be represented as typical examples) don’t reallly get it. They think they are doing all they can, but they are doing only all that which is within the limits of their job description and nothing more. While NGO representatives and human rights activists are fighting tooth and nail for the rights of victims, not only in cases of sexual abuse, but in many, many other areas too.
Photo by Liana Aghajanian
One final note about Lara (pictured, far left): she was a beacon of peace and patience. Somehow ending up between the two men (a quick shuffle of chairs led to this arbitrary arrangement), she was quiet, but strong, letting participants take the lead to speak up and raise their concerns. I got the feeling that she’d raised these concerns enough times and addressed these two state agencies (the general prosecutor’s office and the police) on enough occasions to know their language well.
And though I had the impression that civil society representatives and state agencies do not speak the same language and so cannot see eye-to-eye, Lara seemed to, at least to me, appear hopeful. When Artur Davtyan made an offer for his office to work together with the WRCA, Lara accepted. I guess in trying to find a common language you have to start somewhere.
Filed under: Le Retour — Tags: Le Retour — Adrineh @ 12:27 am June 5, 2011
(I started writing this post on May 25, 2011, on the threshold of the release of journalist and opposition activist Nikol Pashinyan, who had been imprisoned in Armenia since 2008 under questionable charges related to his involvement in the events of Mar. 1–2, 2008, in Yerevan. Bear with me as this post goes in a direction you might not have expected, considering the title!)
These days my life revolves around Nikol Pashinyan: what he says, what he writes, who he talks to. Pashinyan is revered like a god by some people while, as I mentioned in a previous post, I’d rather hang on every word that my yoga teacher says rather than any politician — be it from the ruling party, an opposition member or one with no official party affiliation — or opposition activist says (and these days, they seem to be saying a lot, while saying very little — how convenient).
I admit, my work has been wearing me out a bit. The schedule’s still the same and the work itself hasn’t changed all that much, but I’m growing weary of local politics (and I haven’t even been here that long!). I don’t know what it is, but I’m not as excited about the promise of change as I was when I first got here. I guess you could say the honeymoon period is over
This became more apparent yesterday when I met a guy who’s originally from Yerevan, but has been living in New York City for the past 6 years. He’s back for two weeks, visiting his aging parents, and his excitement and awe (like a little child) of the everyday things here both annoyed me and made me jealous. I was annoyed because ուրց (oortz or thyme) tea is after all just tea, and having a good time with friends in the evening sharing food (even with people you just met) is practically routine, so what’s the big deal? I forget that for someone living life in NYC or Toronto or London or any number of other cities these experiences might be seen as something to cherish.
I was also filled with envy because I realized I don’t see things here the way he does (keep in mind, I wasn’t born in Yerevan, he was, though I’ve been the one living here) — and I miss it. I miss what Yerevan felt like when I was just a tourist or when I first arrived and everything seemed possible. Now that my life here has become more routine, I’ve lost that հայացք (view, or rather, perspective) and I don’t know how to get it back.
Which is part of the reason why I’ve been thinking about going away for a while. Nothing for certain yet and there are so many things that have to be factored into this decision before it becomes a reality, but lately I’ve been feeling the need to leave Armenia — in some way, I’ve lost my footing here and somehow I think that by being elsewhere I’ll get it back. What do you think? Have I caught the common virus going around this country in which people assume that things will be better in another country, the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, that sort of thing?
All I know is that despite the many amazing people I’ve met here and the many amazing things I’ve been able to be a part of, I haven’t felt like I’m building a future or working towards something meaningful. I feel like I do little things here and there that might make a small difference, but have neither a bigger impact nor a long-term strategy. I do think, however, that this feeling isn’t all that uncommon as most people I know don’t know if they’ll have their job tomorrow or how much longer it’ll be till their money runs out, which makes planning for the future just a tad bit difficult. Seems so many are just living by the seat of their pants — and that has been one of the hardest things I’ve had to adjust to here: the lack of stability.
I’m trying to find that balance between feeling that everything is possible (what I felt when I first arrived to Yerevan) and the need for stability. And it ain’t easy, let me tell you.
I will end with a note by blogger and fellow cyclist Tom Allen, who inspires me not only with a writing style that engages his audience but also with what he writes. In his recent post, he writes about taking control of your life:
“Our lives and [what] we do with them are entirely products of our own volition, given the opportunities available to us. All the inanities of modern existence, the procrastination and pointless pursuits, assume that being alive and healthy are entitlements.
“It’s probably worth reminding ourselves that they aren’t — then we might look upon our options with more respect, seeing real alternatives waiting to be grasped, not tomorrow or in a few years’ time, but today. We all hear stories of those who’ve had near-death experiences or terrible accidents and have gone on to grab life by the balls as a result of coming so close to losing it. […] it would be tragic to look back on a lucky life of good health and vitality and to realize that it was squandered in a system of living which wasn’t your own, and from which you never managed to wrestle control.”
Filed under: Le Retour — Tags: Le Retour — Adrineh @ 12:48 am April 26, 2011
I decided I just couldn’t live with “Le Retour in 3 Parts” for another day and so, to make things easy on all of us I am temporarily renaming this blog “Adrineh’s Blog” — till I can come up with a better name of course.
This happened as I was organizing the blogs I subscribe to and realizing I had to rename a few because the titles the bloggers chose didn’t fit with the content that I was seeking in their blogs. And of course I figured you might be doing the same things as you organize the list of blogs that you follow in Google Reader or Blogger or whatever you use to organize the information you seek online.
That’s why they say writers should read and journalists should scan the news. By becoming informed and seeing what works and what doesn’t in the work of others, you improve your own work.
A little bit of insight on a random Monday evening!
Filed under: Le Retour — Tags: Le Retour — Adrineh @ 4:14 pm April 10, 2011
I kept putting off writing a blog post because I never felt like I had enough time, energy or the ability to compose well-thought-out, composed blog posts. Now I realize that’s exactly what I should’ve done: taken a break from all the things I HAD to do to focus on something I LOVE to do in order to feel just a little bit more in control of my life, which lately I’ve seem to lost my grip on.
I realize that I miss my imagination and I miss being passionate about something. Too much of my time in the last little while has been spent on work-related things or things that I just had to do. And the fact that I work in news media means time is always an issue — whatever has to be done has to be done NOW. And I’m slowly buckling under the weight of this pressure of Time.
How can one person hold a full-time job (which includes staying till 7 pm some nights and on other nights — i.e. when there’s a HAK rally — working till nearly midnight), hold a part-time job (with its sporadic hours, depending on when material is available), work on a project on the side that never seems to get finished, go to twice a week yoga classes (necessary for mental sanity and peace of mind), go to once a month Book Club meetings (which involve finishing an entire book before then) plus help a friend fundraise $54,000 US for her mom who’s been diagnosed with breast cancer and lives in Armenia where the state doesn’t pay or even help pay for the expensive $3,000 per dose Herceptin the doctors have diagnosed her to take?
I am on the verge of a panic attack and I figured I should warn you ahead of time.
So if you have told me “get in touch sometime” or you offered to hang out and I kept putting it off, it’s not because I don’t want to see you or don’t want to “hang out” — it’s just that I can’t. Any moment I am away from the things I need to do causes me only further anxiety because I can’t relax in the company of friends while knowing in the back of my mind that I have work to do.
And that’s a horrible feeling.
There are so many other things to blog about — like the project I’m working on called Armenian and Azerbaijani Women’s Voices or the sadness that comes with hearing that yet another repat or expat is leaving Armenia or the numerous lawsuits against local media that have exploded in recent months — but all these take a backseat to my own stress and anxiety. How can one truly devote her time and attention to things quite deserving of these when she herself can’t breathe? It’s a conundrum.
I have to remember that it’s important to feed not only my body, but my heart and soul, which means making time for things that I love and making time for some R&R (without feeling guilty about it). Nothing original in this statement, I know, but perhaps writing publicly about it will foster a commitment from me on these goals. I also have to remember to take on less and know my limits (for example, recently I said I can’t actively participate in a newly formed Diversity group due to time constraints but that I can help whenever and wherever I can).
One step at a time. Or as we like to say here in Yerevan, կամաց, կամաց(kamats, kamats). Thank you for reading.
Filed under: Le Retour — Tags: Le Retour — Adrineh @ 1:29 pm March 7, 2011
I wrote this post on Feb. 22, but wanted to tweak it before posting. As you can see, nearly two weeks have gone by… so keep in mind, some of this news might already be old news
Here goes:
For the past two weeks or so, I’ve had this knot in my back that’s made it unbearable at times to sit still at my desk (whether at home or at work) and do work. And it won’t go away.
I find that we adapt ourselves to all sorts of irreconcilable situations, and so it is that I find myself trying out different chairs and different seating positions, while performing all manner of stretches in 10-minute increments. This, along with once or twice a week yoga, riding my bike to and from work and occasional massages from my loving partner, has made the pain at least bearable. Like I told my parents yesterday: my back is so much better than it was before.
The same, however, can’t be said for the state of affairs in Armenia.
First came the ban on street trade (though it can be argued, this was not the “first”). In one fell swoop, newly elected Yerevan mayor Karen Karapetyan enforced a law which many before him had quietly left alone: banning Yerevan traders from selling fruits, vegetables, greens, and even household items from makeshift stalls or no stalls at all on the street.
Admittedly, though there was the ever-present issue of sanitation and the fact that a large part of the sidewalk was obstructed by street vendors and their goods, you would think the mayor would have more important things to attend to as his first order of business rather than leave thousands of people out of a job literally overnight. And what’s the plan? Apparently, the city will offer spots in indoor markets to these vendors, who, naturally, will have to relocate their place of business, sign a lease and incur additional expenses.
I don’t know about you, but I prefer purchasing my produce from the street. You develop a relationship with the person selling it to you who is sometimes the person who grows it, or at the very least, is someone more directly involved in the food-from-farm-to-table process than a large chain supermarket.
And if that wasn’t reason enough, the produce I get from the women on street corners, in dalans and building courtyards is fresher and cheaper than what you’d get in the supermarket. Plus, it’s more convenient. By the time I walk to a supermarket, I’ve already passed by half a dozen street vendors who are amicable and who might even round down the price for me (as opposed to supermarkets where they round UP: e.g. a bill that runs 2,355 drams will cost you 2,360 drams not 2,350 since there’s no such thing as a 5 dram coin).
Other things we looked forward to and struggled against in the past month:
Increased prices of consumer goods, including such staples as bread, oil and soon-to-be sugar
(Do you know yesterday, March 6, at the local mom-and-pop shop around the corner 1 kg of chickpeas was going for 1,000 drams? At the most, it used to be 600 drams — that’s an increase of over 66%! And onions at 600 drams, carrots at 500 drams… I’m afraid to ask: how far can the prices go up?)
Armenian-American businessman and former adviser to Armenian PM Tigran Sargsyan with the unfortunate name of Serop Der-Boghossian was (is?) at the heart of a sex scandal involving him and young boys in Armenian towns where his company, Metal Prince, does business
(By the way, it really amazes me the issues that bring people together and that they rally against. I’m sure these men wouldn’t be protesting to support their sisters in Yerevan who have been deprived of their perhaps sole source of income following the ban on street trade. However, because the increase in import taxes on their cars affects them personally, they probably feel that injustice is being done to them and so they take to the streets.)
Feb. 18 was the HAK (Armenian National Congress) rally, reportedly the largest since the March 2008 post-election protests that left 10 people dead. HAK, the largest opposition force in the country and one on whom many pin their hopes, however, failed:
“Admittedly, the opposition force had nothing to tell thousands of supporters, except for a call to get ready for ‘very serious events’.”
Waving Armenian flags, shouting barely audible patriotic chants, and marching on Feb. 19 were youth with Hayots Ardzivner (“Armenian Eagles”). Hauled in from the regions (marzes) on buses, the youth were marking three years of Armenian president Serzh Sargsyan’s term in office and one year since their founding, but you wouldn’t know it if you asked them.
In the two weeks that have passed since I wrote the post above, there have been other events (most notably the disappointing HAK rally on March 1 and the recent clash between Heritage Party MPs, activists and police), but I won’t get into those. Needless to say, I’ve been feeling more and more hopeless about the situation in the country, which is only enforced through conversations with friends and colleagues and what I hear and read in the news and on blogs that I trust.
As one Facebook user wrote: could someone please tell me some good news?
Filed under: Le Retour — Tags: Le Retour — Adrineh @ 2:26 am February 3, 2011
Words I received today from my favorite psychic, my friend’s mom (and also a friend) who lives and works on Vancouver Island, British Columbia, Canada:
“I glanced at this new photo of you and had to email you to tell you the feeling I got. You are wiped out, arent you? And I also feel a move for you and your love soon to a French-speaking community. You will be abundant, happy and peaceful.”
Filed under: Le Retour — Tags: Le Retour — Adrineh @ 4:44 am January 28, 2011
So I came home from work, walked in the apartment, and switched on the lights (as I usually do). And what happened? Nothing. Yes, nothing. No lights, no electricity, no humming sound from the fridge. Oh oh, what did I do? Quietly backing out and closing the front door, I rang the doorbell of my next door neighbor.
Me: “Um, my lights don’t turn on, do you have electricity by any chance?” (Thinking the electricity’s off in the whole building perhaps, but asking a stupid question as I can clearly see the lights are on in her apartment.)
Lovely neighbor that she is, Gayane helps me troubleshoot the situation. After a few questions, she gets to the kicker:
Gayane: “Do you have any outstanding payments on your electricity bill?”
Oh oh (I think again). But I don’t understand: this month, I went to pay the bill (albeit on the 25th of the month and I now understand you should pay before the 23rd of the month) and found it atrociously high. Upon closer inspection, I noticed I had an unpaid amount of over 12,000 drams from the month before. But how can that be? I have diligently paid my bill every month (before the 15th, might I add) and always in full. Where did this outstanding credit come from?
I’m sorry to disappoint you, dear readers, but I still haven’t found the answer to my last question. What I did find out was all you need to restore the electricity is call the electrician guy who shut off your power personally (yes, on his cell phone) — well, that, and pay your bill in full.
Lucky for me, Gayane is the unofficial superintendent of the building (most likely the building’s oldest resident) and had Misho’s number (the guy who shut off the power — yes, apparently, it is just one guy). I am encouraged to plead with him to turn on the electricity tonight by saying it’s the only way I can heat the apartment (true) and do the many other mundane things one does in one’s apartment (cook food, store food in the fridge, read a book by lamplight — but all minor compared to the heating issue (remember, this is winter). Then I’m encouraged to tell him it’ll be worth his while (i.e. slip a couple 1,000 drams to him, off the record, or as Gayane said, հայավարի ;). However, before I can get into all that, Misho advises me to go pay the amount using the automatic teller machines around the city (it’s about 7:15 pm at this point and no banks are open) and then take the receipt to the office (oddly enough, open at this hour but closing at 8 pm so I should hurry) and basically show them that I paid and plead with them to turn on my electricity tonight (keep in mind tomorrow is a non-working day because of “Army Day” and then it’s the weekend…).
Gayane advises me to call my girlfriend.
I do, she comes. We rush to VivaCell on Northern Ave. (open 24 hours) thinking I can pay the direct amount instead of rounding up the figure which I would have to do with the machine, only to find a long line-up. I give up, but not before running into a fellow repat (also named Adrineh incidentally!) who’s happy she ran into me prior to leaving the country this Sunday. No time to chat, I say (I’m so cruel), and she comes with us part of the way, as we go make a payment at a machine.
All this time, my girlfriend is telling me to calm down. I love that she’s so level-headed, because really, one night without electricity isn’t going to kill us. Besides, we could always just go over to her place
So payment made, receipt in hand, girlfriend by my side, we weave our way through the streets to said office, which we enter to find three men casually hanging out with a TV in a fluorescent-lit room. They smile at us. One guy says he was expecting us at twenty to eight. I told him the guy (Misho) told us you close at eight so we should just be there before eight. I apologize profusely, explain the situation, say it would be so super-duper amazing (well not in those words) if they could turn on the lights today. I show them the receipt(s). They confirm payment has been made in full. They pull our legs a bit for kicks (one even asked if we came by bike — I’m not creeped out, I figure he knows I’m the cyclist in the building), then say let’s go. We pile into their (of course) white Lada and drive the 5 mins to my apartment. We get in the foyer; they unlock the huge padlock to the box with all the circuits for all the apartments in the building. Stick some wires together and voila! Ask me to go upstairs to make sure it’s all on. I do, it is.
I go downstairs to let them out. Girlfriend asks if I brought money. Oh. I do have money on hand, but didn’t realize this situation called for it and besides, how much do you give? Instead, as girlfriend and I are walking the boys to their car, I offer them a box of chocolates which I say I brought from Canada (true, though you could probably find something similar here . They decline, say no, it’s not like that. Then GF and I simultaneously ask how else can we repay them. And they shake their heads, get in their car and drive away.
I am surprised, but now feel like I am in debt. Girlfriend says, get used to it. Welcome to Armenia.
P.S. Girlfriend also says what might’ve scared them is (a) my being Diasporan and (b) more likely, finding out I work in news media. They did say, make sure you write about how the guys from the electricity office do nice things like this too sometimes, they’re not always the bad guys, why does the media always write bad stuff about them? I think GF might be right, but I still feel like I owe them.
Thanks, electricity guys! First they cut off your electricity, then they restore it. Magic
(Reminds me of a post by Lara jan in which she writes about having her doctor’s personal cell phone number — unheard of in Canada.)
Filed under: Le Retour — Tags: Le Retour — Adrineh @ 5:04 am January 18, 2011
What happens when you can’t go back? Not because you physically can’t go back, but because you’re no longer able to adapt, to that pace, to that lifestyle that is North America. What do you do then? (some thoughts after meeting with a fellow repat and strolling the streets of Yerevan)
Filed under: Le Retour — Tags: Le Retour — Adrineh @ 3:33 am January 16, 2011
Probably the hardest thing I find about living in Armenia is being The Bridge. The Bridge between Armenians living in Armenia and those in the Diaspora (interestingly, this feeling of being a bridge doesn’t arise in quite the same way with non-Armenians).
Having just returned from a few weeks visiting family in Toronto, I feel like I have to make time to visit various family members in my first week back. Honestly, I haven’t had a day off from family (and family drama). The expectation of news from abroad and most likely gifts and — ideally — money. I am an unofficial Fed Ex employee, Western Union agent, and carrier pigeon all rolled into one. None of these are roles I particularly enjoy or wished for myself. But, alas, it comes with being Armenian and visiting the homeland (more so if you have family in Armenia).
I have spent the better part of my week back meeting with family and sharing details of family in Toronto. How can I explain to someone who’s never lived or even been abroad how life is not only difficult in Yerevan, but elsewhere too? How it’s colder in Toronto, takes 1–2 hours to get around (especially in traffic) and the sheer volume and variety of products in stores is enough to make your head spin (not in a good way). How it’s not what you imagine it to be, though I understand how life in Yerevan is not perfect either.
Being in Toronto makes me miss Yerevan and being in Yerevan makes me long for the smooth sidewalks and roadways of Toronto, government agencies that function and the availability of eggs (and other items) in stores year round.
But who to tell about the wonderful Yerevan weather (more sun and always much, much warmer than Toronto), the 10 minutes it takes to get around town (and, if you choose to, you can even walk or bike it), and the people who call you ջան (jan) only a minute after meeting you and who make you feel like you’re family.
The important thing I’ve realized is to appreciate the beauty and make the most of wherever you happen to be. The other important thing I’ve realized is though I understand and empathize with my family in Toronto and my family in Yerevan, I find it difficult to explain the experiences and viewpoint of the other to them. Too often I take on the burden of explaining, but no avail. In the end, the only thing I achieve is burn out.
Have you experienced this feeling of being a bridge between two cultures or two communities? If so, how do you deal with the issue? Do you manage or do you feel burned out (like I do)?
Filed under: Le Retour — Tags: Le Retour — Adrineh @ 12:51 am December 20, 2010
It’s cold in Toronto and not just physically or literally. People are cold. I want to knock on my chest like Julia Roberts in Eat, Pray, Love and say “Empty!” it’s empty in here, there’s no life here. I am reminded of a blog post I wrote two years ago when I came to Armenia in the summer of 2008, when I met my partner and a whole host of amazing women, and when I decided to try to make the move to live here. I wrote “There is so much life here.” And coming back to Toronto has reminded me why I decided to move thousands of miles across the ocean to another country, not just to be with my partner, but to experience life, with all its hardships and joy.
I am surprised by the level of consumerism in Toronto, how much it permeates people’s lives. I walk down Queen St. West and the word that comes to mind is “hipster.” But Queen St. West has always been hipster, so why should I be surprised? I assume it’s because I’ve been away so long, because I’ve been living another life, a different life, and I am surprised at how much consumer culture defines Toronto.
I ride the subway, overhearing conversations that seem so superficial to me. Maybe it’s because it’s the subway and people don’t want to get into intimate conversations, even with those they love and are close to. But even though couples hold hands and stand close and are comfortable enough on the subway to lock lips for periods of a time, I don’t hear the love. Conversations between friends about the latest gadget or comparing different products, where to get something for the best price really depressed me. Is this what Toronto is? Or is it what it seems to me, being here for a little over two days?
Again, I am reminded of Eat, Pray, Love (not that I thought it was a great film; it’s just the references it brings up): what is the word that describes Toronto? I toy with money, business, grey, cold, lacklustre (another word for grey?). None of the words paints a positive picture of a city that is supposedly the “most multicultural city in the world” and that is the engine that runs the country (i.e. financially).
The roads are so wide, the cars so big, the dizziness too much. I can’t help but feel as if I’m looking at this city through the eyes of someone else. Someone who never lived here, who came here from Europe (“Oh! Un vrai camion américain!” as one French-speaking European once said during his first visit to North America, when I picked him up from the airport and drove him on a highway that he described as being straight from Hollywood films), or from a smaller country such as Armenia.
But I have lived here and if I dig deeper, I will find that the city has never changed, it is what it has always been, it is I who has changed. Or maybe it’s a bit of both?
I was so excited to come back, to taste food that I have missed, the cultural diversity of this city which is one of its best assets. And yet I find the food tasted so much better in my memory than it does in real life and I see the change in my family’s diet, how my mom eats chicken now and avoids all carbs. The way the dishes are prepared with the addition of processed foods, something she swore off years ago and still mostly avoids. But it’s easier you see and adds flavor, she says, and I realize that my palette and hers have become very different. An analogy of our lives.
Artifical. Perhaps another word to describe this city. Superficial — somehow related. Stuck. Speaking to friends and former co-workers over these past two days, I’ve realized the number of people who confess to feeling stuck, the number of people who have decided to make Toronto their home not because they love the city, but because it has opportunities (financial, career-wise). Because they need to be here, not because they want to.
The majority of people I’ve spoken to have confessed to this, have complained about things getting worse in the city, in the country, so much so that it starts to sound familiar. This, however, being only a handful of friends and acquaintances and by no means a conclusive assessment. However, between observing people on public transport and speaking to friends and family, I have been left with a feeling of sadness, of feeling stuck and obsessed with buying all those things that I don’t need but want just to surround (protect?) myself with my “mountains o’ things” (don’t you just love Tracy Chapman?).
And I can see why people go mad. It is insane to live in Toronto. It is insane to live this life, to constantly be chugging ahead, not knowing why you’re going so fast, where you’re even going exactly and why you have to keep moving with the current. You think you’re doing the best thing for you and your family. You think you need this. But the more you move ahead, the faster you go, the more you realize you need more. That what you thought would be enough is not enough. And in the center of it all is this wide, gaping hole of emptiness.
And I am reminded again of my blog post two years ago. What had affected me so deeply in the three weeks I was in Yerevan, the bug that I caught that I have seen so many others catch too, those who decide to move to Armenia: There is life here. Yes, I complain, yes, there is so much that doesn’t work (չի ստացվում:), yes, there is discontent. But we have each other. All of us are in the same boat. None of us (among my friends and my family anyway) are better off than anyone else. We’re not running to the stores to spend all our money on useless things because we don’t have money and there aren’t really THAT many things to buy (well, of course, now there are, but in no way can you compare the small shops of Yerevan to the megastores and shopping malls of North America).
Yes, we want lots of things that we don’t have. But we are not empty inside. I have met some of the most amazing people in my life in Armenia (and I know I’ve said this before). I realized long ago that people are more important that products, that making meaningful connections with another human being(s) is more important than making a connection with your computer or your job, that living life to the fullest means never feeling “stuck,” but feeling passion, what it means to be alive.
I don’t want to delude myself, or you, dear reader: I’m sure there are people who feel stuck in Yerevan, just as there are people who feel alive in Toronto. This cannot be a generalization of two cities. But it is a generalization of experiences, at least my experiences, and maybe my outlook on life. I don’t know if I’ll live in Yerevan forever (in fact, I have dreams of travelling to other places, of living briefly in other cities, in other countries), but I don’t want to live in Toronto forever either. It’s a familiar city, where I grew up, where I lived most of my life — but it’s not my city. I don’t know where I’ll be five, ten years from now, but wherever that may be, I will make sure to remember to live life to the fullest, to at least try not to feel “stuck,” to see the beauty wherever I am.
“Whatever [or wherever, I'd add] you are, be a good one” is the name of my friend Arpik’s blog. A fitting line, I think, on which to end this post.
P.S. I’ve been wanting to change the name of this blog for quite some time now. Yesterday, the phrase “Here is Life” came to me. What do you think, is it too vague for the title of this blog? I like the line, but think perhaps the blog should include “Armenia” or “Armenian” somewhere in the title since it is who I am and where I live. What do you think?
Filed under: Le Retour — Tags: Le Retour — Adrineh @ 2:25 pm November 17, 2010
Lately, I’ve had doubts. Doubts about living here, surviving here, settling here. For let’s be honest, I’m still not quite settled. I remember the big question I had before I made the move to live here: is it sustainable? By sustainable, I don’t mean is it environmentally or ecologically sound to live in Armenia; I mean, can one live and work in Armenia without any outside support (financial or otherwise). Are the resources inside the country sufficient to make a decent living?
To elaborate further: I know that those who have savings and investments built up from a life abroad, those who work for international agencies in Armenia where the money comes from outside the country and those who’ve established businesses in Armenia, but their sole (if not the majority of their) earnings come from clients outside the country — all these groups of people can live in Armenia quite comfortably, but it doesn’t solve the equation: the money is still coming from outside.
The more I’ve looked into this issue, the more depressed I’ve become. Because, if only by surveying the many, many others I know who live and work here, I’ve come to the conclusion that no, living in Armenia is not sustainable.
And that’s what’s gotten me depressed over the past few days.
Conversations with friends and acquaintances have also made me realize that I’m not alone. Perhaps it’s the changing of the seasons, the first signs of winter in the air that’s getting us down. But I think it has to do with more than that.
For instance, a good friend of mine Artur recently published a post on his personal blog that resounded with me: he, a young man in his thirties, married with 2 kids, is finding it more and more difficult to justify staying in Armenia. He works hard (he knows he does — and I know he does too!), he has a fairly good job working in media and he’s quite active online and in the journalistic community. He has offered and attended many trainings and continues to improve his skills/trade/craft by being involved in new projects and continuing his education (in a broad sense).
He is a professional in his field.
And yet he sees no hope in this country. Or, more specifically, he sees no future for his children. To be honest, Artur blogs a lot about local politics and events and, working in news media myself, I too follow the numerous opposition rallies, the struggles for freedom of the press, Armenia’s relationships with its neighbors, the Azerbaijani film festival in Yerevan that seems as if it might never happen, the latest racist remark that either Sargsyan or Ter-Petrossian and his supporters made. I too see no true alternative voice in politics, which really only adds to the bleak picture.
Because as much as I am frustrated at how much importance Armenian citizens put on good government, I understand the need to have good, honest, educated people running the country.
In an earlier post, I had been critical of this and said it was a “leftover Soviet mentality,” and I still think that’s partly true. I argued that revolution never came from top-down: one only needs to examine countless other countries’ histories to know that revolution comes from the people. But I also understand what change — much needed change — could come from having good government in Armenia. And until one sees even a glimmer of hope in this issue, the situation in the country paints quite a depressing picture indeed.
But back to my original point: sustainability. I still don’t see it and even if an ideal government were to be established in Armenia tomorrow, I think that it would take a long time for the country to stand up on its feet and for its citizens to be truly independent.
If only because I like to end on a positive note (!), if there’s any “glimmer of hope” that I see in this country it’s the people. I have met such talented, amazing people while living here that if it were not for them, a lot of the change (even if it’s a drop in the ocean) wouldn’t be happening and the hope that some of us keep would be non-existent. People like Artur, and the countless others whose presence does give me the hope that maybe, just maybe, change will come sooner rather than later.
P.S. I would just like to add shout-outs to fellow blogger Lori, who I met for the first time yesterday, and Kirstin, working in Armenia on contract, who I also met yesterday. Learning that there are people who I don’t know who follow my blog, and knowing what I throw into cyberspace is actually received by someone somewhere, really made my day. Thanks, guys
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