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.