"Barf means snow."

I first saw a box of Barf in Gyumri, Armenia, in 2001. It was months before I had the confidence or language skills to actually purchase a box. I gave the contents to my host sister Kristenah--get to washing, villager!--and made postcards for my cousins. A box of Barf is a wonderful thing.

It's 2006, people, and I went back to Armenia, and I'm here to tell you: things have changed. Barf is still available, and the packaging still has that exciting ka-pow of blues and oranges, but whispering under the holler of Barf! are the teeny English words "Barf means snow." That got me thinking about the Tower of Babel: how did it get back to an Iranian manufacturer that in American slang "Barf means vomit"? How did all these Armenians get cell phones? Like, everyone: not just the dudes. Old ladies pull cell phones from their outfits of aprons covered by skirts under what appear to be bath mats. Everyone is talking all the time, everywhere.

My two years in Armenia was my big adventure, the experience that pulled my taffy and helped make me the mess I am today. I had a great time being back but it felt similar to my trips back to Columbus: going home, seeing family, feeling loved and safe. I cannot look to Armenia for boundary-expanding wild adventure any longer, which may very well be the theme of 2006--Get Used to It. My current personal challenge has none of the exotic gleam of mental illness, subaculta cliques, developing nation travel, or drastic surgery: I'm just growing up, and being stable, and having to get used to it. Bor-ring. Anyway, to the pictures, to the good times in Goght:

That's Ludvig. He is enjoying some cake. Ammo made that cake, and it was real good. It was enormous and would have lasted the Misakyans clear through January had I not brought my Sister to Armenia, and had she not eaten most of that cake.

These are more little kids. I think that it is important to show off the tiny adorable children that live in Goght. Svetik was a baby when I left (as was Ludvig) and now she is old enough to kick her brother's ass when he takes away the singing iron that Santa brought her.

The children pictured here have been genetically engineered to be light-skinned and light-eyed. Their parents' marriages were facilitated by their grandparents and village elders because they would result in the continued lightening of the Armenian people, who were originally nice and light, until Persians dirtied up the blood stream. This is what they told me. Their tremendous fascination with eugenics is nauseating, and their racism is frustrating in it's blunt idiocy. On the other hand Americans are actually right in the heart of it, and the subtle poison of liberal White bullshit actually destroys people; the people of Goght will probably never meet an African, and they'd still stuff them full of cake if they did.

And now we dance! Hayk is a member of an Armenian dance troupe, and he got to go to Georgia. Ammo is also an amazing freakin' dancer. Sona and Shoushan do okay--they mostly look cute, you know?

This was the table set for New Year. Sister and I sat at this table for the next five days, eating and eating and eating. It was magnificent, and also terribly boring. Note the arrival of Pepsi products; there was even Pepsi Lite, packaged in Armenia. Now that's development.

Happy New Year 2006!