Thursday

Sara does not have classes on Monday or Thursday (only private lessons at home) so we did not go to school today. Instead, we had time to go to one of Vanadzor's art museums. I really enjoyed it, especially the sculptures. I'm afraid I did that thing I do at Oakwood where I experience life through the lens of my camera (definitely not Buddha's idea of being present in the moment) but I will be present in the past when I look at the pictures in the future! : ) BTW, the museum has no rule against flash photography, which shocks me.
We also took some time to look at shoes!!!! Armenian women are super fashionable, and I'm drooling over some of their shoes anytime we walk down the street. I didn't find a pair today that I couldn't live without, but I plan to treat myself to one pair of shoes from here.
OMG, all of the food today was so delicious! Of course I've forgotten what it was called. I try to write things down--the only way I'll remember, but I don't really want to takes notes at the dinner table! There was a toasted flat bread with some kind of meat-paste smeared over it. We folded it like a taco, which is pretty much how it tastes--I was thinking that all I needed was some Taco Bell hot sauce from Dave Loveland's desk drawer (all the Humanities teachers rely on his stock of condiments). There was also an incredibly tasty soup--comfort food--made with tan (water and yogurt) and corn and cilantro. Shat hamova! (Very delicious!)
My German is getting better and better each day. Ara and I communicate in German since I don't know Armenian and his English is limited. I of course have forgotten much of the vocabulary since it's been 15 years, but it's coming back to me as he and I talk. Then we laugh that I came to Armenia to (re)learn to speak German!
I have to say, Armenian is very difficult for me. There are so many sounds that we just don't make in English--rolled R's, guttural H's, and more I can't find words to describe--and many things that are one syllable in English are, like, twelve syllables in Armenian! OK, that's an exaggeration, but a simple "thanks" is five syllables here. I can't even begin to tackle "thank you very much"! I rely on a big smile to express my real gratitude. And that is overflowing!

Sara and I have definitely evolved from host-guest to true friends. We discuss life and work and family very intimately and frankly, and I find that her sensibilities are very much in sympathy with my own.
And we laugh so much that we cry. Most of the laughter comes from failed attempts at communication. For instance, Sofi is addicted to one of the apps on my iPhone, and when Sara made her surrender it to me today, I did that annoying thing adults do to kids and said, "What do you say?" She looked at me blankly because she of course doesn't know English (she's 5), so I prompted her with "thank you" and she said "huntrem" (you're welcome) and walked away.

I also made a huge faux pas--luckily it was received as a hugely funny one--when I told Ara at his birthday party (while he was wearing a crown) that he was the king, but I pronounced the word for "king" with a K instead of, well, whatever letter it was supposed to be. Sara explained that I had told him he is "what people do in the toilet."
Oh goodness, and the toilet paper incident today! I had to ask Sara for toilet paper because there was none in the bathroom. She started to change the roll and was having difficulty pushing the holder through the center of the roll (there is no cardboard tube in the center). I had interrupted her in the kitchen, so I said, "I can get that; you don't have to do it for me." She looked at me skeptically, and I'll admit I got a little attitude and said, "I know how to change toilet paper--I'm not incompetent." So she shrugged and went back to the kitchen.
After five minutes of struggling and pretty much destroying half the roll, I finally had to admit defeat. The Armenian toilet paper won. Apparently, in Armenia, I AM incompetent!

It takes me an eternity to unlock the front door of the apartment. I'm sure all the neighbors think I must be trying to break in because why would someone with a key take so long and struggle so much and burst forth in such frustrated epithets?? I do find the whole experience so funny. I'm waiting for Ashton Kutcher to jump out with cameras and reveal that I've been punked. It's a real lesson in humility.


I'm so excited for tomorrow morning: there should be water for a few hours after seven o'clock. Yay! Shower and coffee!