After having been stranded atop a beautiful mountain outside of our host city for the beginning of PST, (pre service training) for three days of decompression (removal of jetlag) and general training, we finally disembarked for our host family’s place of refuge scattered throughout the surrounding villages (think of small town suburbia). This included a transitionatory celebration with music and dance at the city’s Cultural Center where we were first introduced to the families that would have to put up with our outstanding American culture for the next 11 weeks. God help them all. The lucky family blessed to have me grace their abode has a mother, father and two sons. They are incredible. Day one went actually quite well, considering my lack of Armenian language skills. The PC Staff (and let me say this, if this is an avenue you’re considering going down, and you end up pursuing it, you better hope that your in-country support staff is as good as these folks!) has done an excellent job preparing them for us. After a lot of introductions, incredible food and drink (more, much more, on this later), assisting in the construction of a relative’s cement brick wall; the night ended with watching my host mother enter the odor-filled, wooden (most things are in brick here) shack where she then proceeded to milk the family cows. On goes the clear, plastic hair piece and away she went; as I stood outside and froze me arse off. The River Place Armenian neighbor back in Rosslyn was correct, when he told me before I left, “You a gonna love it there.”
DisclaimerLos pensamientos y las opiniones aquí puestos adelante son los míos y los míos solamente. De ninguna manera representan los pensamientos o las opiniones del cuerpo de paz o del gobierno de Estados Unidos.