The world is full of crazy people - yes I am one of them - but there are others.

The majority of my writing is done while I run.  Most likely because running is a time of reflection and enables me to organize my thoughts.  But, sometimes...it's because people are idiots.

There are only two reasons why a person would honk at a runner:

1.  Because runners are sexy.

we all know he's a runner...

2.  Because said honker is a disgrace to humanity and wants to annoy, irritate, scare, and aggravate said runner.  

Let's just get this clear.  There is no good time to honk at a runner.  (Unless they are running out in front of you and you are breaking the speed limit and have no control over your car and therefore because of YOUR idiocy you have to warn them about said idiocy and caution them to avoid aforementioned idiocy.)

Okay, so you want to appreciate a runner's sexiness. Fine. Do it. Drive by, and soak it all in. I do. There are many fine runners (and I don't just mean that they have good form...although they most likely do...really good form.) Basically, when you honk your horn. I'm more likely going to think you are honking for reason number 2. 

This is me running...pretty much every day. Man, SEXY!

Let me explain potentially what could happen when you honk for reason number 2 with a personal anecdote:  

I was having a great run.  I was at a comfortable pace and out for a comfortable distance.  I passed 5 miles and had over 1 mile left.  It was already dark (yes world, judge me...but I had big decisions I was making and I NEEDED TO RUN. AND I have a headlamp. (I hope you inserted the "I know what I'm doing" tone in that previous sentence. You can use it in the next one too with a little more sass.) And this time I avoided sketchy parks. And it was actually before midnight. My music stopped, which was great, so I could sort through all the crazy ideas in my head.

And yeah, it was dark...so I KNOW I was looking real sexy. (Headlamps, yo). I recently turned out onto a sidewalk that parallels a busy street and in very deep thought when all of a sudden a car snuck up and tapped their horn. But, NEWSFLASH. Even if you barely tap your horn, it doesn't just barely beep. It blares and blasts a cacophony of sound that startles even the sexiest of runners. I didn't just jump; I, as elegantly as possible with as much swanlike grace, tripped and fell in a chaotic mess of confusion trying  to maintain what composure and hope the previous 5 miles had wrought.

Sure, to the driving idiot who honked the horn, it might not have been that sexy. And maybe he even thought: how could someone so uncoordinated manage to run at all. BUT, his opinion became VOID as soon as he thought it was a good idea to honk. So, yes...Mr. License plate 366 YPO...okay, I didn't actually get your license plate. But, I know it had a 6 in it. Because in the south, 6 is satan. So, I'm really just assuming. ...and I actually don't even know what my license number is...I hope it doesn't have a 6...if it does, I'm changing it. 

Yes, you had your fun. But, what if I start running with eggs in my hand...and next time you honk I can chunk it at your car. Who will be laughing then? Okay, most likely you...again...because I'll probably end up with egg yolk all over me...

Sigh. Sometimes, we are just too sexy for our own good. 

He's still sexy...

Some people just may be innocent enough to honk for reason 1.5: If you are honking because you feel it's going to give me the motivation to run an extra mile, thank you. Please stop.

I decided morning runs are the best...and running before tourists is even better! (Also, why do tourists and terrorists sound so similar?)

Here is a collage of a few morning runs from the week, lemon tarts I eat without shame because I love calories, and I became legit #businesscards

Running around Armenia

Running

There really isn’t a running culture in Eastern Europe or Eurasia.  And even more rare are female runners.  That’s a reason I get a lot of weird stares…like they think I’m robbing a bank or a spy chasing after some villain, but maybe I lost him?  (seriously, can I be a spy? Putin, if you are reading this…I’m watching you. and yes. that is a tiger.)



Sometimes I do feel like I’m in some survival training as I try to manage the suicidal sidewalks or lack thereof and instead am confronted with the even more dangerous highways as I feel the impact of the electrons of the cars reaching into my personal forcefield to say hi.  Seriously? No one drives on their side of the line anyways, so why do you insist on doing it when a runner is in your lane?



Why do I continue to risk my life for a hobby that only results in shin splints and arthritic knees?  I believe my run in Yerevan will summarize it perfectly.  I will highlight the truths learned on my journey which is less about the calories burned and more about the adventure literally and mentally. (Although, I admittedly run so I don’t feel guilty for consuming catastrophic quantities of chocolate to celebrate office-Friday)



I went running yesterday to my favorite spot in Yerevan.  It was 6 miles, but I could have done more.  Here’s why: with every step I discovered more culture of this beautiful country - some good, some great, some humbling, some annoying.



1.  Sidewalks - even if you can find them, they are uneven, a mess of holes, or turned into a parking lot...for those lazy people who drive cars and can't even stand to walk 2 blocks to actually park their cars.  It's like they forget they have legs or something.

2.  Cancer???  I inhaled so much 2nd-hand smoke, I might need a lung transplant.  (I have to admit, this is one issue that makes me appreciate America with it’s smoke-free restaurants, I can actually have my cake and eat it too…)

3.  People love to hangout.  Walking is a hobby here.  Just going on a stroll with your baby, your boyfriend, your best friends is a typical everyday activity.

4.  GUYS HOLD HANDS!! And they aren’t gay… It’s so cool. 



5.  And girls and guys can’t keep their hands off each other.  PDA can be nauseating.  One couple making out in the park is kind of sweet and cute, but…15…seriously?  Let’s just have a special park for lovers and they can all gather there and tell me so it’s not included on my route.



6.  Guys bring girls flowers.  It’s so adorable passing a couple with the girl carrying a(n obnoxiously) large bouquet of roses or a guy just heading out to meet his date unashamedly carrying a colorful collection of flowers.  Sometimes I’m tempted to stop running… ;)

(AND when there’s a BIG bouquet…they can’t make out until they’ve found a place for the flowers! WE ALL WIN!!!)



7.  It’s not always 'like riding a bicycle'.  Most people don’t learn to ride a bike. BUT, it’s a new fad and it’s awesome running by a reasonably smooth surface (remember how rare those are) seeing so many ADULTS trying to ride a bike for their first time. 

8.  Men will pee anywhere, especially when they are drunk. 

mouth-watering?

9.  Bakeries - America, you don’t know what bread is...and I pity you.
  FACT: bakery fumes are filled with fascinating powers.  I could run 100 miles if every mile there was a bakery.  AND, in Armenia, you don't find a bakery, a bakery finds you.  There are no less than 5 bakeries within a 1-mile radius.  (So, once we stop the cigarettes…I think Armenias will be superheroes!)

10.  Strength; Not my own.  I ran to the genocide memorial.  It has a beautiful park, usually away from smokers and a great view over the city.  It reminds me that Armenians have sacrificed.  They are resilient.  And they are building a stronger future.  I have so much hope for my friends here that inspire me by their kindness and love.  



Dear World,

We study history because otherwise we would forget how stupid people become when they do not remember the past.  It’s a circle really.

But, I do believe the only way we’ll end tragic events like genocide is to remember their history, the pain, the loss, the destruction, and especially the lies that enabled them. And then remember the survivors - their strength, endurance, hope, and sacrifice.



I know this isn’t in my usual blog-style.  But, I am choosing to remember.
And running through Armenia is a good reminder.


update:
3 days later I started a tour of Southern Armenia for work. 
I've been in two small villages with more observations!

I was able to lace up my running shoes (not literally...I'm one of those lazy people who will rarely untie them) in Yeghegnadzor (everytime I try to say it, someone corrects me...I'm pretty sure my mouth was just not meant for this city)  HOWEVER, my feet were!  I was in heaven!!  I found an idyllic country road and got in another 5 miles!  It was perfect!!

SO, my list has to continue:

11.  Running reminds me that there are many different ways to enjoy life!

I ran down and through the valley of Yeghegnadzor!

I passed by strangers, once I found a real road leading back into town, who just stared as if I was a creature from space.  There were maybe two restaurants in town and even the grocery story I visited only sold meat, cheese, and bread.  SO, they are enjoying home cooked meals everyday.  Probably not going out clubbing, concerts, or even the movies (didn't see one of those in town yet either), but they wake up in heaven every morning!

A view from downtown!

It's not dirty...but, that's my underwear...hanging outside your window.

So, my life isn't as glamorous as some may think.  True, I have enjoyed many different cities throughout the world.  But, I think this post will highlight a less-than polished perspective of the mundane moments I have endured whilst traveling.

Inevitably, when you are least prepared the worst happens.  Sometimes it's the inability to prepare (first example) and sometimes it's just optimism (second).

I have travelled extensively for the past few years and I cannot even remember when my checked-luggage was late.  There was that one time I missed my plane to Kyiv and my luggage actually arrived BEFORE I DID.  Let's talk about being betrayed by efficiency.  I had to heckle with customs officers for hours in my broken Ukrainian and their broken English (this was my first trip to UA) in order to finally retrieve it.  There's nothing that beats jet-lag after a ridiculously long international flight, than the first introduction to Ukrainian bathrooms and 'card-board' toilet paper, OR the arbitrary lines formed in post-soviet countries to avoid waiting but instead become an endless maze that even the most skillful navigator who upon reaching the surface will find that the 'exit' is temporarily closed whilst the passport officer has his/her 15-min bathroom break, OR an over-bearing 'welcome' from an unhappy and corrupt customs worker who I now realize probably made me wait for hours thinking he could get a bribe out of the new American whose luggage was sitting just behind his desk wrapped in cellophane. What he didn't count on was my extreme naivety.  (that was then...now, $10 otta do it...or increase by $5s...oh, and it's called a "tip" not a bribe.) Yeah, thanks to Ukraine, I grew up fast.  That was just the first day but it didn't tarnish my trip too much since I keep going back!

And now that brings us to present day.  Only slightly reversed.

Usually for a long trip, I'll sufficiently pack a carry-on with all the essentials.  But, my optimism and excitement for a 14-hour layover in Vienna made me disregard all travel-blogs as I thought about enjoying Strudel and a concert in Mozart's flirtatious city.

Hello, Vienna! Took this picture of the Riesenrad while biking through Leopoldstadt.

I could store a bag in a locker, but really? When was the last time I didn't get my luggage?  (Actually, I remember now...Ukraine 2 years ago...had a nice "tip" to pay when it was finally found...But, I certainly didn't remember that with visions of Vienna circulating throughout my head).  Therefore, I 'threw all caution to the wind' as I optimistically packed my magical Thai sling-bag with travel size toothpaste, makeup, water-bottle, i-pad, an umbrella (because I at least headed the advice of the weather man...WHO WAS WRONG.  Go figure. Try to be prepared and it's useless. Don't prepare and armageddon starts.)  and my running shoes (yes, I cannot bear to not have them for one day...and yes, I will run in 100 COUNTRIES before I die.  Unless I die prematurely...in that case, please see my funeral instructions for details: Amy's Funeral Pyre), and of course the necessary clothing allowance.  (Thai sling-bags are essentially the precursor to the carpet-bag, which the charming Marry Poppins transcendentally flaunted for the entire-world to revere.)

The fact that my trip to Vienna, which this post will not portray, was practically perfect, made the particular coincidence on this said occasion of which my luggage got stuck in Vienna -  despite the 17 hours in which a semi-observant person working for Vienna airlines could have figured out what to do with 2 abandoned black bags - only a minor nuisance and not the supreme tragedy it could have been.  Although, the 2 hours it took after arriving at 3:30 am in Yerevan to locate my lost luggage was slightly irritating (irritation caused from sleep-deprivation mostly and REMEMBER THOSE ARBITRARY POST-SOVIET LINES...yeah, those came in to play again.)

More Vienna...I think the church has re-branded itself.
I didn't know H&M was Catholic?
History Lesson: This church was constructed to honor the survival of Franz Joseph
from a knife-attack...how many assassins did these emperors endure before WWI?

Assured my luggage would most-likely arrive the next day, I made it to my apartment and slept a few hours before going to work.  That was Wednesday.  Luggage was promised to be delivered on Thursday.  And, I had a recruitment trip on Friday.  With only one spare change of clothes (one of which was strictly for exercise and a cultural faux pas to wear anywhere in Eastern Europe or Eurasia for anything else but exercising...yes, American college students, you don't actually have to wear gym clothes to class...in fact you may be shunned if you do.) I prudently decided to do some laundry.  Yes, it was in my sink...but, when living in hotels across Eastern Europe doesn't come without learning a few tricks.  Especially since laundry-mats are a novelty and as rare as the truth in a Kremlin media-release. 

That is where this story reaches it's apparent climax.  My apartment is situated on the 10th floor close to Yerevan's center.  My windows look out over a busy street, with stunning views of the opera house, Soviet-Mother Armenia, the Ferris wheel all lit up at night, and the Cascades.  It is out one of those windows that I hung, evidently not so securely, my laundry to dry for the night.  Waking up at an unquestionably early hour whether from my body trying to familiarize itself with it's new time-zone or an illuminating realization that my underwear was hanging outside a 10-story window, I felt I should be concerned.  Now, it wasn't torrential and I wasn't ashamed of lining up bras and socks to drip-dry, but even a slight sigh at 10-stories is enough to whip a pigeon in circles.  I rushed to my window to rescue my laundry!  The breezy-morning had taken its toll but I was able to retrieve all but the most pertinent part to every-day attire...you know...the underthing...undies...my loin cloth.

Yeah, it was gone...but, in the radiant light of the sunrise I spotted it precariously perched on my 9th-floor neighbors line.  Watching in disbelief, wishing for one arm to be 9 feet longer, I waited for another gust of wind to come along and take them all the way down so I could at least run down to the street to pick them up off the side-walk.  I was not about to introduce myself to my neighbors in broken Russian and have to explain what my underwear was doing on their balcony.  But, I'm still waiting.

Yerevan!

Oh, and Happy Independence Day, Armenia!!

GREEN IS THE COLOR OF HAPPINESS!

So, I should probably stop letting the adventures fly by without first attempting to chronicle the awesomeness. I’ll try to catch up, but just know that Taiwan is the place to go if you want to pretend you have the coolest life in the world.

For example, when I run in the mornings, or in the afternoons, or even for that matter when I’m just walking downtown, I feel like Rocky. (seriously, people want to take my picture. I can't decide if it's because I'm white, a girl, or I have a ridiculously large booger hanging out of my nose.)

(This was a legit 10k for church…please ignore the sweaty mess I am, it's pretty much normal.)

Picture Rocky II but in Taiwan (so no American flags…and me with a whole lot less muscle. (Wow, flashbacks to high school…no, I’m not that old…but, what does every band play 200 trillion times during the 4th quarter of the football game, hello.)

People look up from their fields, onion chucking, porches, scooters whatever and yell, smile, and wave AND I feel like I could sucker punch Putin in the face. Literally, when I get back in the mornings the kids want to tackle me or hug me and I’m nasty and gross and drowning in sweat and really just need to shower. Isn’t that great about kids! I don’t have to shower, wear makeup, do my hair, and I could wear a rainbow outfit to class and THEY’D STILL THINK I WAS THE BEE’s KNEES!! (I still shower…sometimes)

Anyways, this super-star ego boost inspired an adventurous 3-day weekend in April to Taiwan’s Green island! And since every weekend in Taiwan has been magical, we decided to take a 3 am train south to catch a boat to explore Taiwan’s Green Island. At first, I thought it would be fun to go somewhere international, but our boss handled all the arrangements for us. So, in the end EASY won and although in my mind I had envisioned castaway (just w/o Tom Hanks - otherwise, I'd be all up for it!) I finally adopted the: “what’s the worst that could happen?” philosophy. And seriously, the odds weren’t terribly discouraging: We find a volleyball and I can finally swim well enough to do a triathlon. Bring it on, Castaway.

After a sleepless night, we arrived at the port at sunrise (3 am train and all) and made some new English-speaking friends who were also waiting on a boat! As people started to crowd in, our anticipation grew! I was surprised at how many foreigners there were. I realized I might have slightly underestimated this island as fellow English-Teachers enthusiastically praised the scenes we would soon be enjoying. But, first, we had to brave the barge.

Minutes before the barf barge.

And, I’ll just paraphrase the next part for the faint-hearted. No matter what that boat was Christened and how lovely it might have been, it is now and will forever be immortalized in my memory as the “barf barge.” I thought mornings were a descent time to travel on the ocean. WRONG. There might have been 3 out of at least 100 people who managed to not waste their breakfast that morning…if you know what I’m saying. Thankfully, it wasn’t stinky. AND, I have a new found respect for Magellan, Columbus, Darwin, American Pilgrims, penguins stuck on a floating/shrinking piece of ice caused by global warming, etc. We were only on the boat for like 50 minutes. Thankfully we found a great spot next to an experienced Buddhist native who had made the trip many times. (He was one of the 3.) He told us the trick was to stare at the horizon, but the WaVeS wErE sO cHoPpY and the BOat was SO boUNcy that it was nearly impossible. At first it was kind of humorous (maybe, I’m a little sadistic) to watch the people drop like flies or run to the bathroom. AND THEN, I. WANTED. TO. DIE. I almost jumped into the port when our boat stopped I was so ready to get on land again.

But then I beheld what they meant by Green Island or as I’d like to state in my most favorite colored cliche ever: The Emerald Isle! (Please say with as much fanfare mixed with mystery, and your arms must do the flare thing) My amazement increased exponentially and I was completely recovered by the time we met this adorable guy, our bed and breakfast host. Although he might have really been looking for any Laura, we took our chances and followed him, anyway.

Any Laura - Follow Me!

And the other Lauras missed out, because he was the real deal. He found us electric bikes, the most adorable scuba diving instructor, and even introduced us to the local pet reindeer. Oh, and then there was the time when he actually found us when our electric bikes stopped working (2x).

How about we turn this into an electric bike!

Let's just share our breakfast with the reindeer.

SO, we went right into exploration mode. Basically Green Island is the Australia of Taiwan just without kangaroos and 200 trillion times smaller. It was where the Taiwanese exiles were sent. You could probably bike (electric, unless you’re Lance Armstrong and taking steroids…it’s mountainous) around the island in 2 hours unless you are ADD like us and have to stop at every tree that’s green or every rock that kind of looks like it’s made of stone, or whenever the waves wave…

It was pretty much my dream vacation - a tropical island, hot springs, hiking, biking (don't be fooled, an electric bike battery doesn't last forever…), meeting people from all over the world, and great food! We discovered waterfalls, lagoons, and baby mountain goats!! (Do yourself a favor and watch Buttermilk the goat on youtube right now) Oh, and we went snorkeling! The reefs were stunningly beautiful and the fish were wild!

Any friends that are secretly con-artists? Can you possibly include me on your next gig? I would seriously rob a bank to get sent here. Or Australia…

So, yes there was a natural hot springs, caves (so naturally, spelunking happened), and we hiked up beautiful waterfalls only to discover even more enchanting hidden waterfalls! And just about every where we went we made new friends from China, India, Singapore, Indonesia, Germany, the States, and EVEN UKRAINE (technically he was living in the Netherlands, but we totally spoke some Russian at dinner and freaked everyone out! Mostly because they feel like I do that PUTIN IS INSANE. I should have a blog dedicated to the idiocy of that man.)

Enjoy some pictures that inadequately capture the bliss to be found on this island.

Oh, I didn't mention this charming little light house.

Sleeping Beauty Rock! Hint: Her head is attached to the island.

SO, yeah. Rule # 3,782 to enjoy life: Live it Up!

There was still so much to do, but we had barge #2 to take back. We decided to stay on top of the boat and experience the fresh air. It was the middle of the afternoon, and it turned into a photo session with students on break and friends from other far away countries. AND NO ONE THREW UP!! I AM NOW MASTER OF THE SEA!

I still need to mention that time we turned a charter bus into a karaoke bus…and didn’t stop for 4 hours. Oh, and earthquakes - I’m so clueless.

But, let’s just all take a moment to relish in the pulchritude (P WORD OF THE MONTH!!) of the color GREEN!

Our sunrise adventure (and electric bike failure!)

World, Have a great week!