The Little Things

I still appreciate the hot shower every day, and the just-about-constant electricity (with a flicker here or there every so often, at least so far). I had a breakthrough with my host mother/sister last week when she let me start the shower without supervision (there are seven knobs/valves to turn in a set sequence, plus the lighting of the gas). After the fall of the Soviet Union, there was water only for a little while each day and electricity for a little while or not at all (I can't worry too much about that nuclear plant leaking, because we need the electricity it produces!). The first few sets of Peace Corps volunteers here lived with those hardships.

And I'm eating more mindfully here. I eat breakfast too early for Zina and dinner too late for her, so I am usually alone in the kitchen. In my own home I might read a New Yorker or listen to a podcast (well, if I had my computer, that is), but here I instead find gratitude for the food or think of an intention for the day or the evening. Zina's kitchen is decorated with a line of postcards that she's received from previous guests, and there's one of the Wrigley Building and Tribune Building right in my line of sight, so sometimes I gaze at it and think about what might be going on in other parts of the world, and I wish everyone there well. Or I listen to the radio and try to pick out words I know (including "Barack Obama"); if there's a song in English I might contemplate the lyrics. There was something in the air that night, that stars were bright, Fernando. You're my first, my last, my everything. Sorry seems to be the hardest word....

I've mentioned the clean streets, sidewalks and trash cans. But I haven't mentioned the bathrooms (or have I?). That's because everywhere I've been there's been a Western toilet, with paper, that flushes (though in one or two instances it doesn't flush the paper - there's a separate receptacle for it in those cases) and a sink with soap and water. In the case of my home stay, the toilet is in one room and the sink and shower in another room. In Morocco, I frequently found myself saying that I was not meant to live in a napkin-less world. Here, napkins are rare, but on every restaurant (and my home stay) table there is a box of tissues that are meant to be used as napkins. I'll also note here that for the past week or so, I've avoided smoky restaurants and have been much happier. It means a bit of a restaurant rut already, as I stick to the few known non-smoky places, but for the most part they also have good food and wi-fi, so stick with them I will, and perhaps I will hear of or discover more.

There's an Armenian restaurant in Chicago calked Sayat Nova. Had I thought about it, I might have held one or both of my birthday/farewell dinners there. Sayat Nova was a great poet and composer here, and I walk on Sayat Nova Street just about every day as part of my commute to either Homeland Handicrafts or the Peace Corps office. A trip to that restaurant is definitely in order on my next trip to Chicago!

In other news, I may have been wrong about St. Sarkis Day. Yesterday I was told that Sunday was the day that people jump over the fire - a previously pagan ritual that somehow was incorporated into the Church rituals here - perhaps a purification thing, though I am not clear on it. The 18th is the day when you eat the salty rolls, and you go to bed thirsty. The person who gives you water in your dreams (not in person) is the one you are going to marry, and you don't have to know him beforehand. In other words, I could try this for myself and see if it works.

And speaking of see if it works - I was in the Peace Corps office and the kind IT person (and I'm not just saying that because he might be reading this) asked how my computer was doing. I told him I called the Apple store and they told me the display was not in yet, even though they had told me it would be about a week. He told me that at Peace Corps they use HP computers, and when they need repair, they are told it will be about a week and it ends up being about a month. Somehow I knew he was going to say something like that. I hope it's less than a month. In fact, I hope they call me tomorrow! Maybe if I go to bed thirsty and dream about my computer....???