Stay Classy, Armenia

 
 A Moment of Brilliance 

I wanted to write my final post on my time in Armenia a couple of weeks ago right after I got back when I had all of my final memories freshly stored in my brain. So, I awkwardly sat down at my desktop computer a few days after I got over jet lag. I began to type, when something happened. I physically didn’t want to write the final post. So, for those mathematically inclined individuals, here is an equation that illustrates what this final post means for me:

Final Post = Armenia Experience Officially Over + (In Writing)

Realizing this, I went ahead, turning my back on Hye-Octane and busied myself with getting reacquainted with the greater Los Angeles area. Over the course of those days, I doused/bathed/smothered myself in everything and anything having to do with Los Angeles or for that matter, anything having to do with being ‘Amurikan.’ From eating a fatty burrito at my favorite Mexican place to using dollars (which was one of the weirder transitions) to driving a car (with safety being my number one priority), I did absolutely everything I could do that didn’t involve me writing my final post on Armenia. A week of this reintegration into American society went by, when I had to go back to school. Two weeks of school have gone by and I’ve gotten back into the college life cycle of work, sleep, eat, socialize, work again. Not only has my experience in Armenia become more and more of a dream, but also I have refused to give it the closure it deserves. So here I go and instead of a general sum up I think I will tell a story.

It was the night of the opening ceremonies of the Homenetmen Games and the ENTIRE city population of Yerevan including a sprinkling of Diaspora Armenians converged on Republic Square. A rope sectioned off the middle of the square, which was guarded by soldiers in order for the various sport teams to parade around holding their nation’s flag. Proudly walking with their official looking shirts, the players strutted in the middle of square. Natalie, Talene, Sophia, Melania and I watched the parade and the subsequent speeches that were given by the Diaspora Minister (quite the lady…she needs her own blog), and other important individuals with ties to Homenetmen. The entire affair was very straightforward, until the performances began. All of a sudden, everyone was asked to come closer the stage, so everyone jumped and broke the rope and ran to get front standing spots closest to the stage (see picture above). It was mass pandemonium, but it was absolutely beautiful. Moms, kids, akhpers (bros), old men, everyone ran in the middle to get a glimpse of a famous act that was about to come onto the stage. I took a look around me and I re-realized that over 97.9% of the people that surrounded me were Armenian, but this time it wasn’t weird. This is what I came to understand as my world for two months. Even though I might not agree with certain societal norms and actions of people in Armenia I am still apart of this community. A community that bum-rushes a stage together stays together.

I want to thank all 21 of you for taking the time to read my blog. I hope that you have enjoyed reading my few thoughts and experiences in Armenia. Until next time…

P.S. I didn’t get ONE marriage proposal. I guess I shouldn’t have gone in being so confident that I would receive one. 

Grab Your Ed Hardy Button Up....The Spyurks Have Invaded

I have always wondered about the fascination that Diaspora Armenian men (particularly living in Los Angeles) ranging in age from about 22 to about 35 have with the fashion brand called Ed Hardy. World-renowned designer, Christian Audigier designs the brand and if you have an affinity for koi fish and diamond encrusted skull motifs then look no further than Mr. Audigier’s epileptic seizure inducing fashion line. There is my rant…..I know the seizure thing is a little harsh, but I am just baffled by what attracts the Armenian Diaspora male to this type of clothing wear. I, of course have thought long and hard about this subject prior to coming to Yerevan and I was reminded of the existence of this line last Saturday in Republic Square because of the massive convergence of Diaspora Armenians from the U.S. Argentina, Australia, France, and many other countries for the Homenetmen Games. Everywhere I looked, I saw large (attractive) males walking in groups fully equipped with their Diaspora swagga and I thought about a couple of things to myself in chronological order:

1.     You are, in fact, not a Hayastansi. The Spyruks (Diasporans) have invaded.

2.     Take off the Ed Hardy shirt (because the design with a skull sticking out its tongue at me is blinding me…..and I wouldn’t mind seeing your six pack).

3.     You’ve invaded my turf.

Yeah. I said it. I used the t word. The Ed Hardies saturated the polyester shirt/pants and dress shoe wearing male population of Yerevan. They have essentially invaded the place I have resided for over two months. I will not say I feel like Armenia or Yerevan is officially home to me or that I have this undeniable connection to this land because I do not, but it was interesting that for one second my response to the Ed Hardy decked out gentleman had intruded where I lived and that for a second, I was not one of them. 

Operation: Vartavar. Mission: Get them Tourists

 I haven’t been very good to you 19 lately. Call me the prodigal daughter. So, about a week ago there was a Christian holiday called Vartavar. This particular holiday is, how shall we say it, a nightmare for hydrophobic people (like people with rabies). The holiday is a remnant of a pagan celebration and is now considered apart of the Christian tradition. It celebrates the goddess of water, love, beauty and fertility, Astighik and Armenian people, on this day would offer her roses (the word ‘vart’ means rose in Armenian) and sprinkle water and release doves in the air. Well now, the doves are gone, the roses safely stay growing in the ground, and the sprinkling of water has turned into bands of children roaming the streets with buckets of water, ready to spring on unsuspecting people of all ages.

On the day of Vartavar, AAAInterns2009 had a scheduled trip to Water World (a water park fully equipped with slides and pools). Therefore, Natalie and I had to take the five-minute ‘children infested with buckets of water’ walk from our apartment to the middle of Republic Square to meet the rest of the group. Here is a play by play of our journey to Hraparak.

 

The girls, fully dressed in their swimsuit , shorts, sandals and backpacks were ready to take on the outdoors. Natalie expressed some concerns about the outdoor conditions.

 

Natalie: I don’t know about this, these kids are feisty. I am grabbing my water gun (Quickly whips out water gun).

 

Kathryn: Oh c’mon. I haven’t seen any kids outside our window and I have been seeing regular people on the street and they all look completely dry.

 

Natalie: I think it’s going to be bad.

 

The girls carefully walk down the stairs to their apartment. They know about the group of kids that hang out near their apartment, so they decide to take the long way to get to the street to avoid them. They enter Saryan Street. No children. Kathryn is pretty confident that there won’t be much of a problem, Natalie on the other hand is clutching onto her precious water gun. They make a left onto Mashtots. Spotted: Group of kids wielding buckets of water. They lack any interest in attacking us.

 

Natalie: I am so nervous right now.

 

Kathryn: They don’t want to get us at all. Look…

 

            Child # 1 slowly walks in front us, bucket in hand, looking towards the street. He quickly turns to the touristy looking girls and lets that water fly. It was an ambush. Child # 2, 3 and 4 dump the buckets from behind fully on our heads. Natalie retaliates with her own weapon of choice and Kathryn helplessly attempts to run away. They got away, but not without fully wet clothing walking on Amirian.

 

            Natalie: I KNEW it. I told YOU.

 

            Kathryn: You were right. That was brutal, those kids got us good. 

 

But it didn’t stop. A few blocks down Amirian another band of kids grabbed their buckets and let their water loose on the girls. The best part of this whole thing was that all the other adults on the street were completely dry. The kids knew exactly which people to mess with…and that was us.

 

 

With everything said and done; Natalie and I were owned by the children of Yerevan. 

Khachkar vs. Pinball Machine

I didn’t realize coming to Armenia would bring back floods of memories from my good ole’ Sahag-Mesrob days, but alas it surprisingly has. On the campus of my former elementary school lies (Yes, the same one is still there) a copy of an iconic, ancient Armenian art piece, the Khachkar. The word ‘Khachkar’ is translated as a “rock cross” and is literally a large (approx 5 to 6 feet) rectangular stone with a traditional cross carved into the façade. Let me tell you, there are a many a Khachkar in Armenia. One may say Khachkars are as plentiful as Jello® pudding cups in Bill Cosby’s fridge (He must have a whole fridge filled with pudding cups, he has to…it’s in his contract).

While at Armenian school, I was confused by function of the Khachkar that sat so ominously in the back of the school building. The only time that I would actually care or have the patience to look at it would be during fire drills (the concept of ‘Fire Drill’ + megaphones + Armenians = 45 minutes of standing in front of the Khachkar) so I would look at it and I never found it particularly aesthetically pleasing. I knew it had a religious significance, but I wanted something more fun to be the go to Armenian Christian art piece like a pinball machine with sparkly crosses and when you think you’ve lost the game Jesus pops up and says, “You are saved by Grace and Grace alone. You get an infinite life in Heaven. You win!” Ultimately, I wanted my art piece to be interactive and interesting. The Khachkar just didn't cut it and in my few years of Sahag Mesrob, it never moved me. It was only meant to be my eye candy (or vegetable) during the fire drills.

Well, I never really gave Khachkars much thought after that time until I got Armenia. Most of the Khachkars here are found in and around Armenian churches and they all have different designs and vary in size (3 to even about 7 feet). Some are more famous and considered more beautiful than others due to their specific workmanship. So if the population of Khachkars is the world population, the Khachkar that I saw at Goshavank, a church in the appropriately named town of Gosh, would be the Zachary Quinto of Khachkars (that’s for Madlyn). As I walked up to this Khachkar, I was immediately blown away by the incredible detail of the front and the time and energy that it must have taken to carve each of its groves. The entire façade possesses this gorgeous latticework that looked like someone had draped a dainty cross-made of lace over the rock. For me, I had a moment where I was proud to say that a Khachkar is a distinctly Armenian art piece. I couldn’t stop staring at it and I have to admit, I didn’t need a fire drill to force me to stare.

A Close-up Look...

Me hanging with my Siroon Khachkar 

 

 

 

Brandy, You're a Fine Girl

Editors Note: Last night, Natalie and I discovered that Mr. Sketchy McSketcherson was unsatisfied with his stay at our residence and decided to leave and take the precious Internet with him. We thank him for everything he has done for us and we are truly blessed to have met him. Hopefully, he comes to his senses and comes back to where he belongs. In conclusion, I will try my best to keep up with my blog posts as much as I can.

This past Tuesday, AAAInterns2009 were treated to a visit to the Ararat Brandy Factory. A couple of things I learned on the tour:

 

1. The President of Lithuania has his own barrel of brandy with a golden plaque on it engraved with his name and apparently he can do whatever he wants with it when the brandy is ready. I think right after he drinks brandy he should use the barrel as a fun-hiding place. That’s what I would do.
2. We tasted three different types of brandy: Ararat, Aghtamar and Nariyi. Nariyi is aged for 20 years and is considered the best out of the three.
3. A good Armenian would know this fact: Winston Churchill only drank Armenian Congac and smoked Cuban cigars. That man knew how to live.
4.  The tour guide told us that the brandy glass must be held in your left hand and you have to hold it close to your heart. 

I don't know about the brandy, but I definitely can say that even though I have known everyone for about a month now....I hold the people in the picture above close to my heart. 

Too easy. 

You Just Got Cultured

 

The city of Yerevan is dripping, no, teeming with cultural events. Everywhere I look, I see top-notch band performances, dance concerts, and plays. While skype-ing with my mother, she said that Armenia, under Soviet rule, was told to place a strong emphasis on having cultural events. And we see today the vestiges of the cultural event overload. I cannot possibly keep track of all the dance concerts, plays, musicals that happen within one night. I have already attended an awesome rock concert, a comedy musical and just a couple nights ago a dance concert. Each of these events had their own flavor and I would like to go through and explain to you some of the different cultural events:

 

• The first is the musical concert, which featured the popular Armenian rock band Dorian. Some other bands included rock band Empyray Hur E and Ska/reggae band Reincarnation. The music was mainly in Armenian, but Dorian had some songs that were in English. I am no rock band expert, but I think all of the music that was played at this event can be described as sick. The talent level of these guys and gals is truly incredible including shredding on the guitar, crazy awesome vocals, and complete keyboard mastery. Although some elements of the production value fell flat (e.g. the fire that would spew out every other word during a song essentially burned the side of my face and sucked out all the oxygen in the auditorium), I really enjoyed the entire affair. My personal favorite song played at the concert was Reincarnation’s Eli Lava. I think the song has taken the role of the AAAInterns2009 anthem.  So get up off of your feet and get ready to listen to a great jam.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LuZqdHyb-sk 

• The lovely and hilarious play that we saw was called the ‘The Aunt from Paris.’ It was written/directed/acted by a French Armenian who was absolutely divine in the show. Although I did not understand a good 40% of it, I was able to keep up. What intrigued me in particular was the striking resemblance of this play to an Armenian play I saw in Glendale about a year ago called Batal something. Both plays involve an older male ham figure who ends up essentially having to dress in women’s clothing because of some outside circumstance. It is truly a winning comedic combination in my book. Older man + Red Women’s Dress Suit = Excellence
• A couple of evenings ago, the AAAInterns2009 (that is how I will refer to our lovely little intern crew from now on) were treated to a dance concert performed at the Opera building. The Armenian Dance Ensemble presented traditional line dances, individual dances etc. The costumes provided would make Donatella jealous that she didn’t think of it first, they all looked like works of art. Although the performance went on for a solid three hours, the talent and the athleticism of the performers was truly mesmerizing. I noticed that after the performance everyone claps in unison, not all mumble jumbled like we do at home. I like the solidarity of Armo clapping. 

What the World Needs Now are Café Glaces, Sweet Café Glaces

Here are some scenarios/lessons that I have picked up on while in Yerevan. It is time I stop being polite and start getting real. REAL WORLD: YEREVAN. MTV needs to make that series immediately. 

 

1. What to Do When You Are Lost
1. So. You are lost in Yerevan. You forgot to bring your trusty map with you and you can’t read Armenian street signs (Holla!). More likely than not, you WILL be near an outdoor café. Have a seat at this hypothetical café. Take a load off. You are lost in a foreign country, so give yourself time to think about your next move. The waiter will come to you and without hesitation turn to the waiter and say “Café Glace.” Café Glaces are a gift from God given specifically to the Armenian people. I, in all my years of living on this earth, have never tasted or experienced such deliciousness from a drink. The concept is brilliant, yet simple. Here it is: iced coffee plus two scoops of mouthwatering vanilla ice cream. Every café in Yerevan serves this ambrosial drink. So to break it down; have a seat and order a Café Glace. Since you are already lost, go ahead and lose yourself in the beauty of the iced coffee and vanilla ice cream team.
2. What to Do When You Feel Discouraged in Your Speaking Ability
1. The Armenians here can smell if you are not from here. Yeah, I know, but you totally look like the gal in the metro sitting across from you. She knows you aren’t from around here even if you don’t open your mouth. How you dress is a dead giveaway and obviously how you walk, stand and sit all contribute to the obviousness of your foreignness. This is not a bad thing. It’s apart of evolution – know and trust only your own kind. Anyway, so once you open your mouth to speak to them in Armenian it is done – they’ll definitely know you are not from here. You speak Eastern Armenian? Doesn’t matter – they know. I had an experience yesterday on the elevator with a lady. I said “ver gelasgor?” which means “are you going up?” (in Western Armenian, mind you) the lady took one look at me and said in English, “Down.” When you get here you have to accept the fact that you will be looked at as a foreigner because you are a foreigner. As I said, this isn’t a bad thing, it just makes the natives treat you differently and it gets discouraging to actually want to talk to them. Don’t get discouraged! Who cares what other people think? You only have better language skills to gain. And if you get discouraged, go have a Café Glace.
3. Lessons in Asserting Yourself
1. The nice old lady selling you delicious fruit at the outdoor market is about to rip you off. In you, she sees a Diaspora Armenian she can dig her claws into. You tell her you want peaches. She picks the peaches for you with a smile (how nice!), but that means about half of those peaches are moldy (but you don’t know that yet). Your precious peaches are going for the price of 2500 dram, which converts to about 7 dollars. You think to yourself  “Alright I guess I’ll pay that amount, she seems nice and I can barely speak Armenian as it is so I’ll take the goods and go.” This cannot, under any circumstances happen to you. You are a strong-willed and independent person with a mind of your own. Here are some tips for your own fruit/Vernisage (souvenir) market trips:

                                               i.     Look at/Pick what you are buying – It is going to be in your possession make sure it has nothing is living in it.

                                             ii.     You don’t even have to speak a lick of Armenian or if you do use the Armenian you know to your advantage – say no if you don’t like the price and move onto someone else if they don’t budge on the price. My personal favorite interaction involving Elizabeth, one of the other interns and a woman trying to rip her off included Elizabeth telling the woman “aboosh chem” basically meaning “I’m not an idiot.”

                                            iii.     Haggle, Haggle, Haggle – get a good idea of what you are looking for generally sells for so you are well informed on whether or not you are getting a good deal/price on something and then attempt to lower that price.

                                            iv.     These tips are obvious when I write them down, but not so much in practice. Vigilance is key. Good things will come when you remain in power. And you will get to use the extra money you saved on a Café Glace.

Solid.

Here is a picture of our little group (minus Natalie) at the Monument Fair this past Sunday. Right next to the Mayr Hastayan Monument in Yerevan there is this tiny little fair with rides, food and this beautiful sculpture of hands. Ah, the symbolism of coming together. What I like in particular about this photograph is that we all seem to have a good foot distance apart from each other and only the girls are taking this picture seriously. We let the good times roll. 

Deegeen Vartouhi

I had to dedicate a post to one person in particular that I have come into contact with since my stay in Armenia. The very moment I saw her, I was immediately transported to a different time; a time where the waist of a woman’s jeans reached a good three inches above her belly button, REM was played on 102.7 KIIS FM (Let me digress, excuse me current 102.7, popular music doesn’t equal mediocre rap/hip hop…I want Rick back. Rick Dees and I have a made up love/hate relationship on this blog if you haven’t noticed) and the mention of Chuckie Cheese pizza made me salivate.  I am talking about 1994. I am also talking about the Sahag-Mesrob School days. From when I was in Pre-Kindergarten to the beginning of 2^nd grade, I attended an Armenian elementary school. My experience there, though short-lived, has been burned into my memory with thoughts of a many a barahantez, Armenian homework, and loud, yet beloved Armenian teachers. One teacher that worked there, Deegeen Vartouhi was a very talented lady. She had the most beautiful singing voice and often used that voice to scream at spoiled little Armenian boys fighting over a ball. Her grace, her friendliness and her strong presence defined the incredible relationships she made with her students and their parents. So I walk into the room where I work at the Ministry of Culture, with Vram close by my side, and I see this woman sitting in the center of the room. She looks and sounds exactly like Deegeen Vartouhi, but with some interesting differences that make her quite a specimen to watch. I am going to go ahead and bullet point these because I would like to emphasize some of her fascinating characteristics:

 

·      I often don’t understand what she is saying to me. She refuses to speak in English with me, which I admire. 

·      Whenever I look at her gives me this huge smile.

·      She doesn’t have a computer in front of her, but everyone else in the office does. She only has a calendar, pens, and official looking folders placed neatly on her desk.

·      She sits with her hands folded waiting for people to come to her with work/letters to which she either responds with a yell or a laugh.

·      People come and visit her and talk about life in general too – I get the sense she gives great life advice.

 

I was totally struck by this woman and even though she has this slight edge/meanstreak to her, people in the office seem to be drawn to her with her shortcomings and all. I think Hayastansi Deegeen Vartouhi and I are going to get along splendidly.

 

 

Maybe she’ll let me make her soorj one day. I can dream, can’t I? 

Whistle "Mer Hayrenik" While You Work

I must admit something. I’ve been holding out on you guys. I get so excited when I experience something in Armenia I immediately think to myself, “I must blog about this!” You can call me “blog-sessed” © in theory, but maybe not so much in practice.  The term is in fact copyrighted, so when I see you nine (take that Rick) writing about how you are “blog-sessed” © on your respective blogs you will be paying yours truly a small fee.  Anyways, what I have not yet divulged are the details of the most important part of my time here, which of course, is my internship. I am currently working at a thinktank in Yerevan called the Armenian Center for National and International Studies. The organization is under the direction of a man by the name of Richard Giragosian (Google him, he’s on Armeniapedia....I will be there someday in the future…someday). Funny business aside, this guy knows his stuff and his frank attitude towards issues directly relating to Armenia is refreshing. It’s hard to find someone who can concisely convey their opinion on such a wide array of complex issues, especially Armenian related issues. I won’t go into the details of the aims and goals of the center itself; the website does a divine job of doing just that: http://www.acnis.am/main/

 

I’ve officially been working there two weeks now and I have learned a lot about the state that Armenia is in at this moment. I’ve come to read and hear about Armenia’s potential relationship with the EU, the question of its improved relation with Turkey, the Diaspora and its relation to Armenia and most recently what lessons Armenia can learn from the Iranian election. Specifically, my work, or research project deals with looking at the differing attitudes of the Diaspora and the Armenian people in Armenia towards Turkish-Armenian relations. Taking into account different attitudes of the different generations, I also intend to study the dynamic between older and younger generations and their response to Turkish relations. In addition to my internship with ACNIS, I am also working two days a week with the Ministry of Culture in Armenia. Today was my second day there and I have to say that the work atmospheres of the two are completely different. I find the Ministry’s approach is a little more casual in their work ethic; here is the chronological list, according to me, and my limited Armenian language skills of the day in the life of a Ministry of Culture office worker;

 

1.     Drink soorj.

2.     Do some work.

3.     Have an apple.

4.     Print out important looking letters.

5.     Eat lunch.

6.     Have Ponchigs (Armenian Doughnut)

7.     Read important looking letters.

8.     Talk to Deegeen Vartouhi (This is in reference to the head woman in the office here…this is not her name, I will explain…I am dedicating another post to her)

 

This is all in fun naturally. I’m sure if I actually understood most of what they were saying I would probably change number 3 to “discuss cultural activities in Armenia.” In all honesty, the people at the Ministry are being very kind to me, are trying to give me English work to do and are talking to me in Armenian, which I appreciate. For them, I am currently working on a description of/opinion piece regarding major cultural events during the summer in Yerevan. I think seeing and experiencing the different workspaces is beneficial to opening my mind to how people actually work here. And hey, if that includes me getting fed ponchigs on a daily basis, then I will humble myself to make this ultimate sacrifice. 

A Moment: Reading Faces

As some of you, or all of you may know, I have a tendency to make facial expressions that do not convey what I am necessarily thinking or feeling. When I attempt to concentrate on something, whether it is a lecture or someone talking to me etc, I scrunch up my forehead, furrow my brow and slightly curl my lip. This expression, although altogether hilarious for my sister to watch during her graduation ceremony, has elicited some concerned responses from teachers and people I speak to in general.

Here is the scenario:

Looking intensely at the teacher speaking at the front of the class, Kathryn wears a concerned and confused look on her face while learning the difference between a metaphor and a simile. Well, here’s the thing. She gets it. A metaphor is a literary device that takes something and uses it as a symbol or representative for something else and a simile is a figure of speech that is used to compare two things in order to enhance the image of the subject. Everything seems to be pretty normal, until the teacher stops, looks at Kathryn and says, “Are you okay, are you understanding this?” Kathryn snaps out of it and begins to explain her deceiving expression, “Oh yeah, yeah I get it, I just make weird faces when I am trying to listen.” The teacher, still suspicious of such a statement, continues on with the lesson.

 

Question: Why did I tell you a story in which I referred to myself in the third person? (Don’t worry, the third person thing won’t become a trend.) Answer: One of the things I’ve noticed while I have been here are the facial expressions of the people walking on the street. They all have the same sort of confused/concerned/serious flavor as some of mine. You can say that everyone here wears that face because they lead difficult lives, live from paycheck to paycheck and are tough as nails, but that is way too obvious and to me, not necessarily true. It is time I get over my fear of speaking in Armenian (I’m a little self-conscious) in order to understand what the natives actually think about their lives. Ultimately, it’s my job while I’m here to find out what drives and is behind that Armenian facial expression that I know is simply a mask for something deeper and more meaningful.  

 

Successfully inserted, yet refreshingly cheesy simile? Check.  Wahoo! 

The Rest of the Pad

So, here is the deal. Sketchy McSketcherson (aka the random wireless internet that I am currently stealing...ahem...using in my apartment) has some trouble uploading images, but never fear my fav five....I will try as best I can to share some of my pictures with you, like the ones below. 

The above picture is my room. Mr. McSketcherson lives right by the window of this room. My laptop and I spend as much time as we can with him in order to let you know what is going on in our lives. 

This is our lovely living room. Natalie, my roommate, and I have already hosted a wine and cheese party in here for the Armenian Assembly interns and Birthright Armenia interns. The wine provided, of course, was none other than the famous Armenian Areni wine. Some of our flavor selections included cherry and the ever-so delicious pomegranate wines.  Classy people call for classy times. 

To be serious, Armenian Assembly hooked us up big time on the apartment. I am so thankful to be living in such a centrally located, well-equipped and roomy apartment. Shnoragalootiun to AA! 

Kitchen Picture

Kitchen -- nice and spacious 

Car Rides and Eye-Opening Tour Times

Some official blog business:

As you five can tell by now, I am trying to catch up on my blog postings for the week. To be honest, I think I will end up writing something twice a week. Not enough you say? Oh, I think you’ll live.

 

I’ll go ahead and start where I left off. The plane from Paris landed in Yerevan’s international airport, Zvartnots. Apparently, the international terminal was built in the last five years, very clean and modern and easy to navigate through. Sofia, Elizabeth and I picked up our 120 day Visas and moved through customs to meet Vram, Program Intern Coordinator of the Armenian Assembly Internship Program: Yerevan. Vram is pretty fantastic. I am not going to lie. He met the three of us at the airport with a van to take us to our apartments. Driving in Yerevan, I discovered, during that car ride reminds me of a line in the Rent song “Out Tonight” sung by the character Mimi. It states, “breaking the rules once I learn the game.” Fun real life car games like extreme lane switching and eliminate the pedestrian in the road reign supreme on the streets. After we did some extreme driving and dropped off Elizabeth at her apartment, I, along with Vram visited my apartment for the first time. I have no other way of saying this when talking about my apartment: I have some seriously sweet digs.

The next day was our day of Orientation of Yerevan. I met Sarkis and Armen, two other interns and with Elizabeth, Vram and me, the five of us hit the town. The city itself is very lively. People walk everywhere and they walk with a sense of purpose. Republic Square, otherwise known as Hanrapetutyan Hraparak is in the center of the city and contains most of the government buildings, the famed Marriott Hotel in Armenia and a wonderful large fountain that performs water dancing/light show every night (except for Mondays). We walked through open-air markets, had pizza at a great shop and ended the night with a look out on the water fountain. What surprised me on our day tour were the stores that have already settled in Yerevan like Guess, Clarks, and my personal favorite Untied Colors of Benetton. Everywhere I looked, there was construction and redevelopment, which made the former Soviet controlled country look promising, but there is clear presence of poverty-stricken people and places all around the city. Most of the buildings are Soviet-esque; crumbling and brown. Mixed in with these buildings are grand pieces of architecture like the buildings surrounding the Hraparak and opulent fountains of art like the Cascade. The day all in all was enlightening and gave me a good feel for the city. It also gave me the opportunity to start to really think about the state of things here in Yerevan. 

Take Flight Child!

So in celebration of my first blog post from Armenia I thought I would give you, my five blog readers (Rick Dees…anyone?) a little bit of a taste of the first impressions/experiences I have had over the past four days that I have been here.

 

1. Yerevan is just like my heading picture. (See above)

 

2. Item #1 is false.

 

You know what, let me start from the beginning, because if I learned anything from Julie Andrews it was that the beginning is a very good place to start. So I flew from LAX to Paris, which of course was lovely. I naturally caught up on various cinematic achievements, just to name a few; “Bride Wars” and “101 Dalmations” (The real people version...). I got to Paris with a couple of hours to spare before my flight to my final destination of Yerevan, Armenia. Walking up to my terminal, I really wasn’t prepared for what I was about to see.

 

97.9% of the people about to enter the plane to Yerevan was Armenian.

 

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it. "What other ethnic group other than Armenians would be going to Armenia?" you five may ask. Well, let’s just say it turned into a “it hit me like a ton of bricks” moment. The fact was, I was about to spend two months in a homogeneous society. When have I ever been to a place like that in my life? And yeah, physically I fit in, but linguistically and culturally I most certainly do not. But to be honest, this is why I am going, to gain an understanding and experience of working and living in Armenia with all those Hayastansis. In the words of David, “that’s pretty bitchen.” I am sure he’ll love that shout out. And now, I am sure he’ll love that I acknowledged that I acknowledged that shout out.

 So, I sat there, in my little waiting area seat attempting to comprehend that very fact in addition to trying to understand what the people around me were saying (eh. I got bits and pieces of sentences...otherwise known as words). As I sat there with my thoughts, Sofia and Elizabeth, two other interns on my same program walked up to me and the three of us started chatting about where we were from, how much Armenian we knew etc. I began to forget about my previous realization until I was reminded of it once again while I was on the plane. The lady in front of me was painting her nails on the plane. Yep. Were not in Los Angeles anymore, kids. And I love it. 

Marriage Proposals

No. I'm not in Armenia...yet. At this point it is t-minus 1 and a half days till my departure. I've been pretty busy these last couple of days, packing the essentials and desperately learning various Eastern Armenian phrases (One Western Armenian phrase I attempted to translate into Eastern Armenian for my mother ended with me telling her to do something less than desirable to herself...needless to say, I am going to offend someone...I feel it in my bones).

I digress, let us shift to the subject of this post, which is of course, recieving marriage proposals. Along with the assertion that immodium will be a necessary good while in Yerevan, the stream of advice from people is accompanied by, what I initially believed to be a version of the throwaway/filler 'you-will-have-a-great-experience' or more appropriately 'people-over-there-will-love-you' statement in a conversation, when I began to notice a somewhat alarming yet amusing pattern:

Lady-Advice Giver # 1: Oh yeah, those young (or old) Armenian men are going to be proposing to you left and right, so watch out.
Kathryn: (comfortably laughs) That is hilarious, you should go on the road with that incredibly funny joke. People will line up on the streets to hear that amazing joke. When I repeat this lolz-inducing riddle of sorts I will give you the credit for it, that is for sure.

Later that week...
L-A G #2: Those Armenian men are very pushy, you know, they are going to ask you to marry them!
K: (lets out a nervous laugh that still exhibits a degree of confidence in the previous statement's throwaway status...my laughs are like species of animals...there are thousands of kinds and nuanances that only a trained professional can see in order to differentiate them) Oh, heh, well okay I will definitely keep that in mind. You can count on me on staying vigilant in my refusal of their advances. Yeah.

The next week...
Cousin Quastana: Dood. Get a fricken ring on that all important finger before you go out and brace yourself for ultimate marriage proposal bombardment.
K: (furrows brow, no laugh) Dang. I thought I just had to bring immodium.


Who knows? I might just fall for the love-vodoo magic of a Hayastansti proposal and bless everyone with a new addition to the family.

Pre-Departure Info/Thoughts/Jitters (lots of slashes)

Hello Everybody!

My name is Kathryn and hopefully you have gleaned from my descriptive header that I will be spending over two months working in and soaking up Armenia and all it's glory. This is going to be the first time I have ever been to Armenia and I have been recieving waves of great advice from people who have visited the country in the past ten or so years (like bring immodium, don't drink the water...the advice has generally been focused on easing my digestive track). I'm excited and anxious at the same time about the whole thing. One little problem that might come up during my time there would be my inability to speak Eastern Armenian. I think it'll be alright, but who knows? Despite my handicap, I am so ready to take this experience head on!


kathryn