January 17, 2010

Yesterday my host family had a large khash party. Khash is made from cow’s hooves (legs) and tripe (cow intestines). It is absolutely the worst thing I have ever eaten in my life!

Khash is a very traditional soup for this region of Armenia. Three days before the event Emma (host mom) bought two cows’ legs and tripe, which was in a large rectangle about ½ inch thick and white and gelatinous. Albert (host dad) scraped the hairs off the legs and then cut them across into about three inch sections. Then the leg pieces and tripe were soaked overnight. The outer dark part of the hooves then separated from the bones. Then they were boiled for a short time, the water was changed, and they were set to boil overnight in a huge pot of water over several gas burners. The smell was terrible. Early yesterday Emma cut the tripe up into smaller sections and added a few spices (garlic and pepper) to the pot.

The party began at one in the afternoon. Each guest was served a bowl of the soup with a section of the leg in it and a piece of tripe. It had absolutely no flavor until you added garlic and salt. It was also extremely greasy from all the fat. Guests tore up small pieces of lavash (like tortillas) and put it into the soup, to give it the consistency of mush with chewy lobs of fatty gelatinous tissue in it. There was no meat to speak of. I am the only person in the group who did not think that this meal was nirvana. Lots of vodka was consumed. Albert was in heaven!

(Below: Bowl of khash soup, men eating and drinking lots of vodka, desert: fresh fruit, dried fruit, bowl of nuts, bowl of candies, and pastries from New Year's!)

(Expectant men, kitchen preparations, home canned cauliflower, okra, and unknown things, and food accompaniments.  Note "green" string cheese in left side of picture, a Gyumri specialty!)

January 15, 2010

I was sick this last week with bronchitis. In early November I was given a mandatory flu shot, and then about ten days ago was inoculated against H1N1, so I thought I was safe against all things viral (and bacterial.) I was wrong.

So I languished in bed hacking violently for five days until I called the Peace Corps doctor. She asked me to go to the pharmacy for Ciprofloxin ($1.97), an antibiotic, and Broncholytin ($1.45), a narcotic cough suppressant. Within hours I felt remarkably better.

The pharmacies here have exactly one of each item. The pharmacist took a foil wrapped pack of ten Ciprofloxin pills out of a small box, and placed them with the bottle of Broncholytin into a small plastic bag, and I was on my way. There were no instructions about when/how to take the medication, side effects, or anything else. The Broncholytin bottle has writing in Bulgarian and Russian and the Ciprofloxin pills had writing on the foil that said Ciprofloxin, though no expiration date or lot number. This felt a little disconcerting for someone who likes to be able to read about what she is taking. No prescription was involved and the doctor did not talk to the pharmacist. If the next person in the door needed the same thing, they would be out of luck. The pharmacy is right across the street from the main hospital.

So everyday my host mom made many cups of green tea and soup for me with lots of garlic. Garlic is good for everything that ails you. My favorite was a warm yogurt soup with green onion, a little rice, and garlic. But by the end of the third day my pores were exuding garlic and I felt as if I smelled foul. To add to my woes, my host mom would not let me bathe because you should not bathe when you are sick. I even heard her telling the Peace Corps doctor that she had not let me bathe, like she was my savior! On the seventh day I bounded out of bed, announced that I was very well (even though I still felt unwell), and was able to coerce her into a bucket bath. Afterwards was the best I had felt in a week.

On the seventh day I went out and did a few errands, though I still had a slight cough and a little congestion. I had to go to the VivaVell store (like Verizon) to see why my modem was not working (out of megabytes) and to the phone repair center (“washed” my phone) just to find out that I needed to buy a new one, so I was off to the phone store. But I coughed slightly and had to blow my nose at each place and I am fortunate to be able to relate this story to you because in Armenia no one coughs and no one blows his or her nose. I am not kidding. I received glares that should have killed someone in my condition. People do not go out when they are sick! And they do not go to work either. Several weeks ago in church an older man blew his nose hard during the service, and everyone in the church turned and stared at him. I was amazed at the time about their reactions. That should have been my clue! (They do subtlety wipe their noses on their sleeves, but you never see tissues.)

Getting medical information here about people’s conditions is nearly impossible. They just don’t talk about it. One of the volunteers said that her host mom’s sister was not feeling well. So the doctor told her that she could either take some pills or have a hysterectomy. (I can’t imagine being offered the same alternatives in the US.) The volunteer is still trying to find out what the problem is. Another village volunteer’s host sister (20 years old) was not feeling well so the doctor came to the house and took vials of blood out of her arm and injected them into her buttocks along with aloe in the buttocks. Again the volunteer tried to find out what was wrong and was not able to. Though the girl is fine now so the “cure” worked. Another girl’s uncle (57) was not feeling well, went in for surgery, and died on the operating table this week. When I asked what the problem was, she said that he was not feeling well. I asked if he had cancer, heart problems, intestinal problems, etc. No, he just didn’t feel well. We hear horror stories here everyday about women who sat on stonewalls, chilled their ovaries, and had to have female surgeries. Or people who did not wear their slippers, got cold feet, and died of something. There are huge numbers of unemployed doctors, a totally broken medical system, and very poor training. We had one volunteer here who was sent to an eye doctor in Bangkok for what turned out to be a non-event (broken blood vessel in back of eye) because the Peace Corps does not trust the eye doctors here.

So I’m taking extra caution here on the icy streets in fear of breaking something and having to go to the hospital, and then finding out that I need surgery on some unrelated body part!

January 10, 2010 

There was a recent excellent article in the New York Times (How to Train the Aging Brain, 1/3/10)  “… stretching is exactly what scientists say keeps a brain in tune: get out of the comfort zone to push and nourish your brain.  Do anything from learning a foreign language to taking a different route to work.”  Well I don’t equate learning a foreign language to taking a different route to work.  I immediately sent off e-mail to one of the professors quoted in the article outlining my frustrations with learning Armenian.  She responded, saying that I was not the only person to e-mail her on this subject, with some suggestions of places to get resources.  (Google: adult second-language acquisition.)

The news was all “bad.”  There is absolutely no empirical evidence that older adult learners cannot learn a language as well as a college student.  It is NOT true that the ability to learn declines, as we get older.   (The aging brain does not lose 40% of brain cells!)  It is true that young children can achieve near native language tonal sounds while adults have difficulty because they often don’t hear as well, but aside from this, adults learn and understand languages faster than children.  But there are three factors that seriously impact older adult learning.  If these factors are adjusted for, the older adult is able to learn just as well as younger persons.

These factors are motivation, self-confidence (fear of failure), and anxiety.  We are all motivated to learn Armenian.  This is not a factor for us.  “Self-confidence” plays a part in that I want to get it right, and will hesitate to say something if I’m unsure of the grammar.  “Anxiety” (stress) is a factor in that often I can’t pull the right word out of my brain, though I often know it, so the frustration level is high.  So one helpful suggestion is to reduce the focus on error correction.  (I often go back and correct myself immediately after I’ve said something.)  Memorizing long lists of verbs is not helpful as my short-term (rote) memory skills are not as good as my long-term skills.  (I find that I can remember that a word is the 4^th one down on a list and the corresponding English equivalent is the 4^th down, and so I put them together.  Off the list, I can’t remember.) Carrying around a notebook and writing down new words or phrases I hear, and then looking them up or getting help understanding them is most helpful, because these are the words and phrases I hear daily. 

I was half-panicked all summer with 4.5 hours of Armenian classes six days a week for eleven weeks, and at least an equivalent amount of homework each day.  We had drills, oral conversation where we had to speak about specific topics, tons to memorize, etc.  Adults learn best in a less stressful environment where they are not put on the spot and where they are allowed to absorb the material.   Speed is not my forte.

So I am trying to relax and focus on communicating and not on “getting it right.”  I’m working on vocabulary lists I’ve created from what I hear, not those strictly from the book, and I’m listening harder for the meaning of conversations instead of for specific words.  And life is better.

But I still wonder if the empirical data is correct.  I’m amazed at how fluent some of the “just out of college” kids are!

 

January 9, 2010

January 6th was Christmas Day in Armenia, and my expectations were running high.

On Christmas Eve, four volunteers and I met in Gyumri’s main square for a candle lighting celebration. It was a very cold day (20 degrees) and the streets were deadly with ice. Outside the main Armenian Apostolic Church, people were selling candles and holders (Coke, Sprite, etc., plastic bottles with the bottoms cut out) for 53 cents. (This answers the question I had about seeing so many people rummaging through public waste bins and gathering plastic bottles.) We each bought one and headed into the church. There was a service going on but at least a thousand people were talking and pushing their way in to light their candles at the candle offering stands. We lighted ours and walked outside, and then decided to get something to eat. So as we walked into the restaurant to have beers and pizza (very mediocre) we put out the candles. On leaving we lighted our candles again, using a volunteer’s match, and walked home. My family was thrilled that I brought them a lighted candle from the church. They promptly used it to light four other candles and then got another one out of a drawer for me so that I would have “blessed” light all evening!

(Mass on Christmas Day.  Note Bishop's mitre, staff, and medallion. Also note manufacturer's label on red water bucket.)
On Christmas Day, I left the house early for Mass knowing that the church would be crowded. I was so disappointed. The church was sparsely filled; there were no Christmas decorations, no nativity scene, no changes at all. As the Mass started the church began to fill with latecomers. The Mass was no different than any other Sunday. The service and music were the same. The bishop offered the Mass, but there was no sense that this was anything other than a normal offering. At the very end, tubs of water were blessed, and people filled up their empty soda bottles with the water to take home.

(People crowding up to get their "blessed" water.)

As I passed by the main square, I saw a crowd of people jostling at a platform. Again people were selling empty plastic bottles. At the platform, people were handing up their water bottles to be filled with water spewing from a faucet with a gold cross above it. Nearby was a city water truck (to refill the water tank?) I did not feel like buying an empty bottle, or pushing through the crowd. So I went home empty handed and as I walked in the door, my host Mom asked me if I had brought blessed water.

(Gyumri's Christmas tree.  Note water tank on left and crowd to get "blessed" water on right.  The snow is for real!)

My Christmas Day at my host family’s home was no different than any other day. It was hard not to feel a little depressed in this "Christian" country.

One thing that surprises me about Armenia is that people do not take labels off of things. For instance, our toilet bowl still has the large manufacturer’s label plastered to the tank, and it must be 20 years old. All the glasses we used for the six days of New Years had the small sticky labels still on them. Everyone’s computers still have all the manufacturer’s labels on them. We have several small buckets around the house for garbage and water that still have all their original labels. And this was true at every home I was in over the past week. And where this really struck me was at the candle lighting and the “water filling” where everyone’s holders advertised Coke or Sprite or Jermuk (fizzy water).

January 4, 2010

Only two days to Christmas, and it’s the fourth day of a week long New Year’s Celebration in Armenia. At my host family’s home we have had a constant stream of visitors from late morning to late at night. The dining table is laden with food and drinks, most especially alcohol. Every visitor is seated at the table and then “given” a plate full of food. The food consists of dolmas, meat crepes, ground chicken rolls, various fresh fruits, dried candied fruits, various cheeses, various meats (ham, salami, unrecognizable items), mixed nuts, and more homemade pastries than you’ve ever seen. Oops, and I forgot the ubiquitous bowl of candies.

Today it is snowing, and there is about seven inches of fresh light snow on the ground. It is absolutely gorgeous outside. My family left to go and visit more relatives and friends. So I’m alone and it is wonderful that I don’t have to eat anything! Yesterday we visited five neighbor and family member homes, and at every home a plate full of food was put in front of me. And all of it was exactly the same food as we are offering here. It is inconceivable to me that we could have a six-day open house in the US where every home offered the same food.

Last Saturday another volunteer and I went to the home of our Armenian tutor (who does not speak English) and ate with the tutor, her mother, and a cousin. The mother works as a cook in a restaurant by our international airport (which has two flights a week to Russia.) The tutor works in the local high school as a translator of “Old Armenian” into new Armenian. Their home was at the end of a path through incredibly run down homes. The very small home had a small gas heater that heated the three rooms, no hot water, though running water in the bathroom that had to be carried to the kitchen. Carpets hung on the walls for decoration and insulation. The house has had no fixing up probably in thirty years. And yet there was this beautifully laid table with all the foods mentioned above. At the end I had never eaten so much in my life, and promised not to eat for another week; a promise that lasted until I got home and food was again thrust on me.

Many Armenians go into debt to celebrate the New Year. Welcoming friends and offering lavish food is a sign that all is well, even when it is not. No one brings hostess gifts. They reciprocate with visits to each other’s homes.

For really special guests, my host dad brings out his homemade vodka, which is 70 proof, incredibly smooth, and stored in canning jars. There have been many medical warnings about this home vodka, which has caused all kinds of problems including stomach, which require hospitalization. The everyday vodka on the table has a label that says “Siberian Vodka.”

To celebrate our American Christmas, I traveled to Kapan in the south near the Iranian border, and had dinner with 23 volunteers. We went to Sue’s house, which is up a steep cow path in a high mountain village just outside Kapan. The view was incredible, as was the hospitality. It was a fun day.
(Trekking up to Sue's house. View from Sue's deck.)



I stayed at another volunteer’s home in an apartment just outside Kapan. She had the most interesting water heater (that I regret not taking a picture of.) It was in the bathroom, and consisted of a tall narrow water tank mounted over a small wood-burning stove, with the faucet (directed over the bathtub) located between the tank and stove. So all you had to do to bathe was to get the fire going!

Kapan housing consists of all Soviet era apartment buildings, which are built along the mountain walls. The buildings are different from anything I’ve seen before in Armenia. The town subsists on local mining operations for precious metals though it is currently in trouble as the world commodity prices for metals are down.

(Kapan apartment houses.  There are few single family homes in this town.)


Kapan is on the main route between Armenia and Iran. The two-lane road is in unbelievably poor condition with lots of potholes and washed out sections of the road going over high mountain passes. Iran is a very important trading partner with Armenia as evidenced by the many trucks bearing Iranian license plates (which means those unrecognizable Iranian numbers.)
(Views of the market in Gyumri before New Year's Day.)