Maybe I shouldn’t talk about this subject on Friday the 13th...
I always have these great ideas for blogs and things that I want to talk about but when I get to my computer to get ready to type, I forget everything. This is a problem for two reasons.
I cannot inform you, the reader, all the experiences I have gone through here.
Sometimes I forget what I have already written, so I assume that I have already written it and either repeat myself or don’t get a chance to write about whatever...
h’ok so... if I already mentioned this, well, you get to re-experience it.
One of the many things I like about this culture is the people and how they respond and live with each other. To even compare it with “southern hospitality” is a slight understatement. Like I have mentioned before, they have gone well out of their way to make me feel at home here, and my family has tried to incorporate this strange, American into their home. My mom now introduces me to strangers as “im amena-mets tegha” or “my oldest son”. When I heard that, I was overjoyed. Anyway, onward to my point.
Being in a community where everyone is related to someone else somehow, its not strange to see that when one of them passes away, everyone will morn. After the death, there is a three day mourning period where people will come to the person’s house and pay their respects. The day the body is moved to the cemetary, the road is lined all the way, with white flowers. Now, as a disclaimer, I want to explain that this is my understanding. I could be totally wrong but from what I have seen and what people have told me, this is true. Im sure there is more to it. Even the village school will end a little early so that people can go to the funeral.
Unfortunately, this past week, one of my teacher’s brother died. He was in his fifties. We had a small get-together at school. We ate, drank, talked. Everyone stopped what they were doing and came together to remember this teacher’s brother. I thought that was great. The community really is a community here and its nice to be incorporated.
Now, this is a totally separate idea, and I kind of hate to put what I am about to say with the aforementioned blot, but I guess it is fitting because it deals with the similar idea.
There is this national food called “hash” with a long “a” sound, not to be confused with marijuana. It is a soup. The broth is really good and garlicy. I tried this for the first time with my family in Solak and I wrote about how as I was eating it, I found a cow’s hoof in it. That killed my appetite, for obvious reasons.
Anyway, my sister has been visiting us for the last two weeks with her little son, and I suppose my little nephew and tomorrow she will leave so we are having a little celebration. We made hash. Not only did we make it, I helped. I cut the legs into more managable, bite-sized pieces. Make no mistake, you can, without a doubt recognize that it is very much a cow leg... Anyway, I have pictures and next week, when I am in the city, I will be posting those. Fantastic. At first it was a little weird. But after you start sawing (yes, you use a saw) and you start to smell the flesh and bone from the friction of the blade, you eventually get used to it. (that last sentence was really gross).
On brighter news, which does not have anything to do with death or cow legs, I started another club. Actually I didn’t start anything. My Armenian tutor, which is also the English teacher asked if I could do an hour club after school. So, I went for an hour. Six girls. Awkward. Actually it turned out alright. So every Tuesday and Thursday, I will be having an hour long English club after school. Hopefully more people will come. Hopefully the word will spread that my club is not boring so more people will come to my health club. I feel like this is a good way to build up my street cred. (Mom and Dad, “street cred” means, “respectability and credibility in the community”).
Also, after that club, I had my health club at the culture center. This is where the Soviet weight room is. Anyway, the kids sat down for about half an hour and we talked about health. It was great because the weightroom overseer man, and this other guy really helped me out. When I said something, they would add more explanation. Also, what was really great was at the end of my lesson, the weight room overseer told the kids to listen to me and not to make fun of my Armenian. That I was learning. He told the kids that I was trying to learn their language and that I wasn’t trying to get them to learn English. He also said that if he heard of anyone making fun of me or the way I talk, they wouldn’t be able to come to the weight room. I thought that was funny. I want to add though that in general I haven’t had any problems here with the kids and I think that I get along with them pretty well. Of course there are some kids who are not as welcoming, but that can be said about any place.
Its already Friday... I am excited about this weekend because I don’t have much of anything planned. Should be pretty relaxing. I hope.
Lastly, I want to say Happy Birthday to Jonathan, who is the closet thing I will ever have to a brother...
Until next time...
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