Back to what?

Posted on by hiddenspacesblog

It’s now been a month since I returned from Armenia.  During that time, I’ve tried to keep busy. Mostly though, it seems like I’ve done (or been doing) so with a laundry list of absurd tasks. Perhaps the strangest of these is trying to find a job in an economy that’s put out a “no vacancies” sign. Otherwise, I’ve filled my days with the administrative work related to wrapping up my Peace Corps service and fulfilling all my reporting duties.

However, life here in Prague one month in is just plain odd. Multiple times I’ve heard the question: “How does it feel to be back?” And the simple answers are either It doesn’t. or Weird. Perhaps it’s odd to say that I don’t feel, but honestly it seems that way. The return to a past life in the new corona world is complicated. For two weeks after getting back, all past tangible, physical relationships became virtual. Luckily, I knew and could see all my closest friends were safe and healthy, but they were just images in devices. That then brings us to the weirdness of a few encounters with friends (limited ones) that I’ve been fortunate to have had post-quarantine: ones where elbow bumps replace hugging. I think that practice for me is the oddest of all. For someone who has lived a world away from his family for most of his adult life AND who is not tactile at all, I really did miss hugging my friends back into my world. There’s just the surrealness of those looks upon meeting: both of us thinking – how do we do this? Is the elbow touch OK? Embraces are off limits, right?  But we do have our masks on, so would a quick hug be safe?

After the initial awkwardness of our new corona greetings, conversation does begin to flow and with the few friends I’ve met we do catch up and I get to share (as much as my feelings let me) what my life has been like over the past whirlwind of a year.  Generally, it’s a combination of wistfulness and gratitude. But mainly gratitude … with statements or thoughts similar to those below:

  1. I’m not done. I know that somehow I will find my way back to Armenia one day. I’m not sure in what capacity, but I want to spend more time in the country. And next time I hope to be able to say good-bye on my own terms.
  2. I miss Armenian hospitality and thankfulness. I am, and was, always touched by how communities that might not have a lot, compared to what we call the West, in material terms are so consistently gracious in sharing what they do have. You will never leave an Armenian home hungry or thirsty.
  3. It’s weird not to have that daily embrace of the mountains in the Lori region. I became so spoiled by the vistas of the snow-capped peaks to which I woke every morning. The ridges that encircled and protected Spitak and Lernapat to the west; and which walled us off from Georgia to the north.
  4. Life is strange without the celebrity of being “the volunteer.” Walks around my city Vanadzor were always amusing in that most of the time people knew of you before you knew them. “Oh, you’re the volunteer. Aren’t you?” was a common phrase and it always made me feel special.
  5. My colleagues’ warnings were true. Returning from volunteer service is a weird process because of the singular experience that Peace Corps offers and creates. It’s difficult to tell people who haven’t lived the process just what service meant to me and why it was so touching and profound. Still, I’m working on doing so and, hopefully, one day I will get better at it.

How I gained a new family (Pt. 1)

Posted on by hiddenspacesblog

I woke up this morning in a state of denial and confusion.  It’s hard to say if I’m really happy or sad.  When the corona virus started to put into question the future of my Peace Corps service in Armenia, I wasn’t sure how severe the situation was.  Our group had been put on stand-by and was ready to evacuate if need be. In the end we did.  For me, that day was 18 March 2020.

So now I am on my couch, the morning after arriving back to Prague (the place I’d called home for 25 years prior to applying to Peace Corps), and I am trying to sort through feelings.  For the moment, it all feels like a weird dream.  But the most urgent thing I want to write about, or the thing that constantly comes to mind, is the feeling of family.  After just one year in Armenia, I feel that I have been separated from part of my family (my fellow volunteers who have gone back to their homes in the USA) and have left another family behind (all the Armenians with whom I had the good fortune to work and collaborate during that short year in their country).

Prior to leaving Armenia, I took part in a TV interview to speak about my service in the north central part of the country.  Since I attempted to brave that process while speaking in my pigeon Armenian, I found it difficult at times to say eloquently just how much the chance at experiencing life there meant to me. I had arrived there a burnt out PR/marketing manager and had no idea what I sought from my service experience.  I only knew I needed change and wanted to do something a bit more meaningful personally; something that would hopefully make other people’s lives better.  Right now, it’s too soon to say for certain, if that happened.  However, based on the constant pain this separation has caused in my heart, I think I can say some change happened.

Firstly, I would like to speak to the change a small family in southern Armenia caused in my life and hopefully I in theirs.  It’s important to know that I was an “odd man out”-type volunteers. At 47, I was twice the age of most of my other fellow volunteers and that was, I believe, a bit odd for the host families. These Armenian families are so gracious, and they take you into their homes not having any clue what sort of situation they will find themselves in.  From my end, I am older and never had a family of my own. I had lived alone for most of my adult life.  Suddenly, I was living in a family with three daughters, mom and dad, and a grandfather.  I had my own room, but it was clear the impositions that I was putting on the family.  All the daughters had to pick up camp and move to another bedroom shared with their parents: all because of me.  It was only over time that I came to realize this, and it touched my heart how much space this family was willing to give up take me in and learn what life in America was like.

That said, I was concerned that I had failed them on that count as well.  I used to joke with them that they ordered a US Peace Corps volunteer but ended up getting a “fake” one.  I make this comment, because I didn’t check all the boxes for what most families expected.  As said above, I was older. I didn’t have much immediate experience on what life was currently like in the USA, because I had only been travelling there for work or family visits over the past 20+ years. Then, add to that the fact that when I reverted to my previous daily language I was speaking in Czech: an idiom that had been my daily go-to for the past 20 years. It made my family laugh when I kept explaining that the filler words I would slip into sentences, mostly unwittingly, were Czech … not my mother tongue, English.  We just agreed I was weird and laughed.  Yet it did help us mark some progress, when I went from saying moment (the Czech term for asking someone to “wait a minute”) and advancing to mi rope / մի րոպե: the proper Armenian expression.

With my abrupt departure from Armenia, it was painful not to get to see my first host family in person one last time.  Although I know we will meet again soon after the world heals itself and the corona virus comes under control.  However, there is solace in the fact that the weird, old volunteer that I am is now forever irrevocably bound to an Armenian family: and not just one.  As my hopes for this family’s future diminish my temporary sorrows. I left behind what might be a future educator, a future artist or a future actress. I can’t wait to see all the good things that Ema, Lilit and Eva will do with their lives.  And that hope keeps my current pain at bay.

Note: there are lot of thoughts going through my head at the moment (post-service), and I will write one or two more comments on my connections and shared experiences with Armenian families in my future blog updates.

Disclaimer:  This blog is used to express my own thoughts and feelings. My comments are purely my own and do not reflect any official views or opinions of the US Peace Corps or the US government. Likewise, the US Peace Corps bears no liability for any of the content I post.