When I spoke with Aria Kinch about her time in Armenia, a few stories stood out -- like the time a few volunteers, in another town to hold a training, left some cheese at a nearby home that had power. When one of the volunteers went to the wrong home and asked for the cheese, the Armenian woman shrugged gave him her own. And early on in Aria's training, she and her fellow volunteers realized that there was something odd about the hotel where they were all staying. Why did men keep showing up trying to get in late at night? Oh, yeah, it was a brothel.
But what stuck with me after Aria and I spoke was something much quieter, a sense that came over her during her two years in a country that had been down on its luck for quite a while.
More tomorrow.
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