Jody's Letters from the Road

A few days ago, I had an interesting conversation with my director, Hasmik, actually we do all the time but this one was political. She asked me a few questions regarding my opinions of the current political situation in Armenia.  I felt honored that she was curious about how I perceived the new Prime Minister and the changes she and many others hope he will bring to this country. What precipitated this conversation was the news that she shared with me that Prime Minister Pashinyan was visiting our little city of Noyemberyan in northern Armenia.  He was going to give a speech on the steps of city hall which is across from the little park I love and our office. She was hoping to have a chance to talk with him. I explained that my knowledge of the Armenian language was still too weak to know all of the promises made by the new government. I know he is continually saying the new Armenia.  I explained that I had some opinions of the political climate and what I have observed about t

Santa and Winter Papik I believe it was in September when I moved from the host family home to my apartment in Noyemberyan. Then, I decided to quit shaving and grow my beard. After about a week, my white beard barely taking shape, Narine and Anushik decided I should let it grow long and become Zmir Papik, which means Winter Grandfather, an Armenian equivalence to Santa Claus.  At the time neither knew my familial ties to the Santa Claus legend in America.   I have dressed up as Santa a few times in America, but it was always with a fake beard and white wig. I decided that it would be fun besides the fact that I hate shaving or going to a new barber. The costume was begun, although I did begin wondering where I would find my size of a Santa outfit in Armenia and was there a significant difference between the two costumes. As the months went along, my hair and beard grew longer. Narine and Anushik both liked what I was doing.   However, the other ladies kept asking when I was goin

Election Time in Noyemberyan As so often happens here on my Armenia adventure, I sat down to write about my latest adventure when I was pulled in to another adventure and my story takes a totally different direction.  It is election season here in Armenia. There are posters everywhere.   Literature has even been dropped off at my apartment.   The Peace Corps is of course warning us to stay away from rallies and to not get involved in any type of political meetings.  I would like to follow their directions but there are two major problems.   First and foremost, the Peace Corps has assigned me to a very politically involved non-governmental organization. Secondly, I have been a political animal since I handed out literature as ten-year-old.  Telling me to avoid a rally is like putting a T-bone steak on a plate, setting that steak on the ground and telling your dog to stay away. I go to a rally like a moth to light, blindly moving forward to be close without certainty about the out