January 30th, 2007 10:30 p.m. Been traveling fThat's it, I've had it. I don't want food put on my plate anymore; I don't need people telling me what to do. I can't take the questions: Where are you going, who are you going with, what are you doing, what time will you be home? Don't they know I'm 22, not 16? I can take care of myself; nothing bad is going to happen to me. This is Gyumri; I've never felt so safe in my entire life. Why don't they understand?

So when we decided to go out one night, I thought it was a great idea. And we had a great time. It was refreshing, it reminded me of being at home, and it was nice to be out with my friends and just relax. As every minute passed, I forgot a little bit more that there were people wondering what I could be possibly be doing and if I was alright. So when I rolled in at 2 am I was shocked to see my whole family sitting in the living room, waiting up to make sure that I got home ok. Instead of being flattered that they cared enough about me to stay up that late, I was annoyed. I muttered a Barev and went straight to my room, wondering if they were ever going to get it.

I spent the next two days away from Gyumri and that's when I realized they were not the ones that needed an attitude adjustment, I was the one who needed it. I was acting like a brat to people who did not need to care about me, but who chose to care about me. They could simply feed me and not take an interest in anything I do. They could be a place for me to sleep or a family to come home to, and they wanted to be a family for me. Maybe I should let them.

I had been proclaiming that I was trying to communicate with them, and they needed to understand that I was the one learning a language here, and what exactly were they doing to try and communicate with me? But how hard was I really trying? I would give Armenian a try but then switch to English after I quickly got frustrated because they couldn't understand. I didn't listen, I waited for a translation. I could do better, I wanted to do better. After all, I didn't come all the way over here not to try.

So when I got back, that's what I did. I tried. We sat down and I told them about my weekend, in Armenian. And it was tough, but I hammered through it. We had a great conversation, and amazingly, they understood me! And when they asked me questions, I understood them. And we kept talking. And we laughed together. And for the first time it felt like we really were a family. The best part was that they were proud of me. They were so impressed and excited, and kept telling me how much I've learned and how well I was doing. That made me want to keep going, to want to keep talking. So we did.

I thought that I had been embracing Armenia and the culture from Day One, and it turns out I wasn't. I finally left America behind and realized what it was like to be a part of an Armenian family here. And while there still may be a lot of questions, and a lot of food, there is also sincerity, concern, and a genuine love for me, a girl from America who they've only known for a month. Their warmth and kindness has helped make my experience what it has been so far, and has been an extreme comfort to my own family back home. I look forward to every day of the next month that I am here, because I know that we will only get closer, and that I can only learn more.

I'm glad that I was finally able to look past the little things and focus on the big thing, that they are my family here, and without them there is so much I would not know, and even more that I would not be able to say. It's all about immersion here, and I learned that when you finally do immerse yourself, that's when you start seeing the rewards. I can say that I can see the rewards, and they are definitely worth the embarrassment of saying something incorrectly, which I still do. But we laugh, fix it, and move on to more important things, like what I'm doing that day, who I'm going with, and what time I'll be home.

Allison Tanielian (USA)
AVC Volunteer and BR/DH participant