Balcony Moments

What I have thus far failed to be brave enough to notice is that my concrete, crapped-out, gorgeous-in-all-its-patheticness balcony represents the space I often inhabit here in Armenia between cultures.  

So I sit here on my balcony, courageously enduring the stares, pondering this space that I’ve grown so fond of dwelling in this past year in Peace Corps Armenia.

On the outdoors side of the balcony, Armenians spit sunflower seeds, work on their cars, play in the street, shout to each other from their balconies, and release a cathartic “HELLO!” whenever they happen to see me.  

On the other side, a private American sanctuary sits, removed from it all:  a little slice of home decorated with pictures of my family and memories of what I’ve left behind.  Secluded, but free.  My own, but in someone else’s country. 

Reflection and a sudden fondness for this balcony-moment I’m having in the middle of this new world I’ve found myself in encourages me to press endlessly deeper into the in-between,  to really get to know the language, the idiocyncracies, the heart-issues, and the needs of the people surrounding me.  

Because what can happen in these unfamiliar, slightly awkward in-between spaces, or “balcony moments,” are interactions like the one I just recently had with two of my neighbors, who I’ll call Loud Kid #1 and Loud Kid #2:

Loud kid 1:  Hey! How long would it take to bike to... where is it  
again you are from? Russia?

Me: America.

LK 1: Yes. So how long would it take?

Me: Well, there’s an ocean you’d have to cross so maybe a plane 
might be better.

LK2: Yea, yea, but if we WERE to bike, how long would it take?

Me: Maybe a year... I dunno.

LK1:  Vshhh, that’s far.

Me: Yup.

And it’s moments like this that make turning “grapes into wine” and embracing the “balcony-moments” all worthwhile.

Weekly Grape:  Have I passed up a balcony moment recently?