A Life of Challenges

An organization with which I work is looking into a project that would make their building accessible to people with physical disabilities, making me reflect again on how difficult it is for the disabled in Armenia.

Walking in Gyumri is enough of a challenge without contending with a disability.  Many streets are unpaved. Sidewalks don’t exist for long stretches or may be blocked by rubble from damaged buildings.  Where there are clear sidewalks, they can be at different heights in front of different buildings necessitating steps up or down as you walk along.  Some curbs that do exist are more than a foot above the street.  During the winter, you have to be particularly careful since there is no standard for whether to clear the sidewalk in front of your home or business so it is often left until it melts (particularly since there are so many vacant buildings).  This winter, snow has been on the ground since November, has solidified to ice in many places and will remain on the ground until at least April.  A total of about a foot arrived this week after four solid days of snowfall.  

All over Armenia, cars seem to have right of way no matter what.  Whether or not this is codified by law I don’t know but since everyone yields the right of way it may as well be.  There are intersections with walk signals but where a street feeding into the intersection retains a green light for cars to pass.  Cars regularly pass one another on blind hills and you can be trapped in a crosswalk with a car speeding toward you.  I have seen cars drive on sidewalks or streets that are nominally for pedestrians only, with drivers expecting people to get out of their way. 

Transportation options are virtually non-existent for the disabled.  Getting on and off marshutnis and buses usually requires you to climb over or past other passengers and the average seat (if you can get one) is not wide enough for the average person.  Subway stations in Yerevan have steep steps into the stations and escalators down to the platforms.  The city of Yerevan recently purchased a large number of buses with the intent of phasing out marshutnis for intra-city transport – but none of them are handicap accessible. Oops.

I am not aware of any elevators in Gyumri.  During the earthquake, virtually all tall buildings collapsed and I have seen only one or two that are higher than five stories.  Elevators I have been in while in Yerevan are barely wider than I am.  There are ramps up to certain areas and buildings (into some subway stations, up to church entrances) but they are usually too steep to be safely used with a wheelchair and there is no access from the street to the beginning of the ramp anyway.  Once inside a building, doorways tend to be narrow, are inconsistent as to whether they open in or out, and most that I have seen have a lip that you need to step over to cross the threshold.

There was a protest recently (see article) that highlighted that access for the disabled throughout Yerevan was very poor.  As I have written previously, Yerevan is far more developed than the rest of the country so what little is there is far more than in the outer regions of the country.  Gyumri's recently opened city hall has no ramps for access to the building.

A lot of this is because Armenians seem to prefer not to think about the disabled in the population.  By the official count, about 6% of the population is disabled but I can count on one hand how many physically disabled people I have seen in Gyumri. One man I do see often is a double amputee.  He sits in a wheelchair in his garage and usually one of the neighboring men is playing Nardi (similar to backgammon) with him.  The rutted dirt road that runs past his house leads to a poorly paved cobblestone street.  The only vehicles I see near his house are small Lada sedans and his house is run down, making it unlikely that his family owns a vehicle he could ride in comfortably.  It makes me wonder when he last left his house. 

Although Armenia no longer has “orphanages”, there are homes for children with no parents or whom the parents cannot take care of.  Some of those children are placed there because of the stigma associated with disabilities while others are simply kept indoors and out of sight.  Shame can overwhelm the need for good parenting.  There are organizations that deal specifically with these children (such as Centaur, a hippotherapy center) but it is in danger of closing for lack of funding (see article here).

Similar to transportation issues, the problem of unemployment is compounded by a disability (see article – that happens to have the same photo as the one linked above…).  Some of the larger corporations here have programs aimed at non-discrimination, but with unemployment estimated as high at 70% in some areas, it seems unlikely to me that any such program with respect to small businesses would succeed.

This all makes the desire to make the services offered in my office even more admirable.  The problem is that when it was built out to be an office space about seven years ago, this was not taken into consideration.  The cost to renovate it again, however, would be more than a new building would likely be.   

And those who need it would have no way to get there in the first place…..

A Face in the Crowd

Juan in a million - Gyumri Day 2010

I come from New York City, a city with a population of ~8.5 million.  I now live in Armenia, a country with an official population of ~3.4 million (about the same as Brooklyn), in a city with a population of ~170,000 (less than half of Staten Island’s).  

In New York, I enjoyed a pretty high level of anonymity.  Never mind that it can feel like a small town sometimes, where everyone you meet seems to know someone else you know.  And there have been times when I have run into people on the street who don’t even live there and whose visits I hadn’t been aware of.  In most cases, I could go out, be lost in a crowd and not have to worry about anyone paying attention to me unless I did something noteworthy (falling in the middle of the street and breaking my leg being a good example).

One of the big adjustments for me here has been the absolute absence of anonymity.  We are prepped for this and are urged to be mindful about it since one of Peace Corps’ goals is “Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served”.  Since many stereotypes of Americans exist (many Armenians watch US movies and believe what they see in them to be true), we often have to counteract those – not everyone in the US is rich, not all American women are “easy”, we are not here to impose our views on others, etc.   

I can say from first-hand experience that people watch everything I do and are certain to have opinions about what they see.   During my time in Solak, I received a package from my family.  I don’t even know how people found out about it (it came through the Charentsavan post office, not the one in the village, and it was in my backpack when I entered my host family’s house) but I learned from another volunteer that I was a topic of dinner conversation at her host family’s house that night.  Not only were they speculating about the contents, but they concluded that it was sent by my wife (even though I don’t have one). 

Solak has a population of about 2,800 so I thought things would be different living in Armenia’s second largest city.  Not so much.  I stand out here also.

Armenia is a very homogenous society – about 97% of the population is Armenian with the other 3% comprising Russians, Yezdis, Iranians and various other ethnic groups.  Most Armenians have common physical characteristics – generally dark skin, thick black hair, brown or grey eyes, and caterpillar type eyebrows.   Still – I can see a lot of variation in how people look, and not just because many women here dye their hair.  I see redheads and blonds, some tend to have very fair skin, I have seen young guys that look like a group of WASP/Italian/Irish hybrid brothers I know in New York and some of the men actually do go bald.  While many are short (in Solak, I am pretty sure I was the tallest person in the village), Gyumri has a lot of people my height – including some women.  

There are many reasons people stare at me.  Baldness is not common, blue eyes are unusual, I am taller than many and facial hair is not very common (I could shave, but I prefer not to).  Armenia, especially outside Yerevan, is also a pretty conformist society and I dress differently than most of the men (although I am very glad that I brought a lot of black clothing with me).  I could conform more, but in a future post I will talk about the clothes here and why I have chosen not to follow that lead.   

So, I stand out enough that quite a few people remember me – even if we haven’t met. Over the course of the 18 months I have been in Gyumri, I have given presentations, taught classes, led clubs, been a camp counselor and been on TV a couple of times.  In most of these cases, people have learned my name while I may not have learned theirs.  Therefore, it is somewhat disconcerting when I walk down the street and hear “Hi, John!” since much of the time I can’t remember how I know the person or if we’ve even met at all.  Similarly, I get friend requests on Facebook from people I don’t recognize, and the fact that many have the same names doesn’t help.  

I don’t have it as bad as some others.  Quite a few of my fellow volunteers live in villages (some as small as a few hundred people) so everyone knows about everything they do.  The African-American and Asian-American volunteers have the added issue of being considered downright exotic, drawing extra attention.  I have heard numerous stories of kids wanting to have their pictures taken with these PCVs for no apparent reason or people taking pictures of them surreptitiously.  I recently met a PCV who had just completed his service in Ethiopia.  He lived in a remote town – four hours away from the nearest fellow volunteer.  His town was not one that tourists would normally go to, so when any white person happened to come into the town, someone would bring him to the volunteer’s door as if to say “Look what I have for you!”

While that is more extreme than my experience, here are some examples of what I have encountered:

• Being waved down on the street by the postman who had a delivery notice for me.  I had never laid eyes on him before.

• Entering a post office one time, and before I could even finish saying “I think you have a package for me”, I was asked “Are you John?

• Some of my mail is delivered to the "American Corner" in Gyumri since the people in the neighborhood know I have clubs there.

• Asking for a kilo of fruit in the market and the vendor asking me why I am not buying two kilos as I normally do.

• Entering my local shop where I always buy eggs, the owner asking me if I want my normal six.  Another customer asks her who I am and why she knew how many I wanted and the conversation was still going in when I left.

• The house I live behind does not have an address marker outside so people coming to visit me often have trouble finding the correct door.  If it is a fellow American, one of the neighbors is sure to point him or her to the correct one.

• A fellow volunteer was talking about me to an Armenian and began to describe me but was cut short – “He is the one with the blue eyes”, the other person said, knowing already who I was although I don’t believe we had met.

Also, seeing as this is the Caucasus, people take the label “Caucasian” seriously.  Having filled out a questionnaire one time and marking my ethnicity as “Caucasian”, a friend of mine told me he laughed and told me to change it to “European”.

As with many other matters here, I have found that I have gotten used to it.  While waiting on a marshutni one time with a fellow PCV, we heard a group of young guys outside the vehicle talking and then laughing.  I was asked “Doesn’t it get to you – being laughed at?” I was a bit surprised at the question since it hadn’t occurred to me that they might have been.  And even times when I know people are laughing at me (the YakTrax I wear on my shoes to traverse snow and ice get a lot of attention), I can usually shrug it off. If I find someone is staring at me, I may just stare back or just smile and move on.  Life is too short to get worried about it - and if I fall on my ass on the ice I will get laughed at anyway, so I'll spare myself the pain.

As my service approaches its end, I start thinking about the “reverse culture shock” we are warned about upon returning to the US, which can be worse for some than the culture shock we experience when we start our service.  One of the factors we are told to be aware of is depression – some have trouble adjusting to not being the center of attention any longer, having to settle back into relative anonymity.  

Frankly, that is one of the things I am looking forward to.

Home for the Holidays

My second round of holidays in Armenia was very different from the first.  Last year, I attended a gathering of volunteers for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day and went to Tbilisi for New Years Eve.  Due to several factors (having the flu among other things), I missed out entirely on the Armenian holiday celebration despite having heard about it for months. 

A summary of the Armenian New Year (excerpted from one provided by our Peace Corps staff) is as follows:

New Year (Nor Tari in Armenian) celebrations became very popular only in Soviet times when celebrating religious holidays was not encouraged. Most Armenians consider it the biggest and most important holiday, maybe as important as their own birthdays and anniversaries. The preparations start in mid-December when people start purchasing all kinds of food items and loading their refrigerators with various types of meat, produce, dried fruits and nuts. Some people spend all their savings, some even may borrow money, "not to disgrace themselves in front of the neighbors".

During the last days of December, housewives keep extremely busy cleaning, washing, cooking and baking. Many families decorate trees and prepare gifts for each other and especially for children. Parents usually wrap up some gifts for little kids “brought by Dzmer Pap (similar to Santa Claus). Late in the evening, families gather around a beautifully laid table and help themselves to various dishes, salads and pastries. Usually the TV is on and everybody is in festive mood. Closer to midnight the president and the Catholicos [the head of the Armenian church] speak on all local channels and congratulate the population.

As the clock strikes 12, people clink glasses and congratulate each other toasting the New Year. They eat, drink and dance; younger people get together and may stay awake until early morning. Already, close neighbors and relatives start visiting each other. It is a must to visit and congratulate older people first - parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts - as well as families where someone has died in the past year. It is a custom not to go "empty handed" but to take a box of chocolate and a drink and maybe candies and small toys for the kids in the family. These visits continue until January 13, the so called "Old New Year". This was a common tradition observed in all Soviet Republics (Russians adopted the Gregorian Calendar only in 1918, and the difference between the two calendars was 13 days; they still follow Julian calendar to celebrate Christmas on January 7). Armenian Christmas is celebrated on January 6^th - the day the Western Church commemorates the epiphany.

This year, I was determined to experience Nor Tari while also spending “American” Christmas with friends.  I was away on vacation until December 24 (you can see pictures here if interested) and arrived back in Armenia at 4AM on Christmas morning.  [FYI – since Armenians don’t celebrate on December 25, I did not see Santa at the airport].  Christmas dinner was a quiet one with three other PCVs over steak and a nice bottle of wine and it was very nice.  

I arrived back in Gyumri in time for the Christmas party at my English club.  One of the purposes of the club is to share our traditions with the people here and learn about theirs.  We had a tree, one of the girls performed a nice rendition of “Jingle Bells” and we had Armenian cake and other pastries.

So as to not get caught short food-wise as I did last year, I did a fair amount of stocking up before the end of December since everything normally shuts down for Nor Tari.  As it turns out, that wasn’t entirely necessary as quite a few stores were open the entire time.  I don’t know if it is the creeping effect of capitalism or the need to make more money as the economy continues to drag but it was definitely noticeable.  Not only food stores either – I saw others selling housewares, toys and clothing.

New Year’s Eve was also a quiet dinner with fellow PCVs.  I had heard that people gathered in the main square for fireworks at midnight, but I misunderstood the magnitude.  When we arrived just before midnight, we saw about 20 people there and the only fireworks were those people had brought with them (some of which were being fired into the tree in the square).  As described above, people tend to spend it at home and we could see fireworks all over the surrounding area that people were lighting at their houses.  There were some enterprising folks, though, with props for taking pictures of the kiddies and a couple of Dzmer Paps walking around.

Times Square it ain't

I was honored to be invited to spend New Year’s Day with the family of someone I know.  I was made an honorary family member and stayed when guests visited and I also went along when they visited other families.  It was a long day that was very enjoyable and also very informative.

For the most part, the New Year Table in every house is the same – some sort of meat (turkey, beef, pork), dried meats (salami, basturma), dolma (the kind with grape leaves is standard but some have the cabbage leaf variety), blinchiks (crepes filled with meat), several types of salad, cheese, greens, fresh fruit, dried fruit, an assortment of nuts, a bowl of chocolates and plates stacked high with pastries.  Depending on the size of the spread, there will be one or more clusters of drinks – water, juice, soda, brandy, vodka and wine.  Tea and coffee are inevitably offered.  

As with any other time you visit an Armenian home, every visitor is expected to eat something (and preferably a lot), even if you have been house-hopping all day and eating at every stop.  Since this is an annual tradition, and people visit the same people each year, one learns who cooks things better (or – shamefully – buys things instead).  I am told that people may schedule their visiting based on when they want to eat something specific and who makes that best.  You often are told by the hostess that everything is homemade, just in case there is any doubt.

The newly arrived guests have their glasses filled and one of them will normally make a toast to the hosts.  As honorary family member, I was asked to take care of the glass filling duties.  Toasts I heard a lot had to do with health success and “the best things for you”.  As the token American, several times people offered toasts specifically to me. Luckily, I had memorized a couple of things to say so that I could return the toasts when that happened.

In every house I went to, the women were very busy the whole time.  When I progressed from food to dessert, my plate was replaced with a clean one.  Glasses at place settings were swapped if you wanted something different to drink.  A stack of clean dishes and glasses were needed in case a lot of guests came at once, so cleaning was going on non-stop at times as was the warming of food. 

As the tradition is one of an “open house” there are not invitations, per se.  Some visitors simply drop by (something that is not restricted to Nor Tari visits) while others call in advance.  This requires coordination within a family as there must always be someone at home while others are out in case someone comes unannounced.  I noticed that most arrived and departed at quarter hours and most would stay for multiples of 15 minutes.  The clockwork was remarkable.  

After more than nine hours of the above, I was stuffed and headed home.  For the first time I can recall here, the streets were well lit – not by the overhead street lights, but by lights over doorways, all lit to welcome visitors. Also, the iron gates outside of every home - normally kept closed day and night - were ajar.

Over the next few days, I did some house visits on my own.  While I could have done that last year and would have been welcome, I didn’t know where anyone lived and the people I did have addresses for – such as my host family – were away.  This year I got addresses in advance.  

One visit was to see my first host family in Solak.  All of Gohar’s children and grandchildren were there and it was nice to spend some time with them. Since villages are much different than cities, I was expecting it to be more low-key, but the full spread was there.

Gevorg had a little too much dolma

Although it may go on until January 13 as described above, for the most part the visiting ends on January 6, when Christmas is celebrated.  On January 13, many families do another "New Year Table" for Old New Year.  

More than once, I heard people expressing a wish that the holiday focused more on Christmas than on New Year. Given how the nation prides itself on being a Christian one, as more time passes it will be interesting to see if the focus does change over time.

While I found the traditions nice as an experience, I heard from several Armenians how much they dislike Nor Tari.  One explanation I heard was that it is too much of an obligation and not simply about spending time together – even if someone visits your home, you need to pay a visit to theirs also.  Another was that you see people only once a year so that some of the visiting is for show also and not from a sincere desire to see someone but then you are obligated to pay a return call. 

And while stores were mobbed in the last few days of December in preparation for all of this, so were the banks.  Since people don’t know how many guests they will have, a substantial sum is laid out to stock up on everything, just in case. Unlike the US, Armenians have a great aversion to debt so that tells you how important this holiday is viewed.

And then there is the time and effort involved.  I know several women who have full-time jobs who went home after work to cook late into the night.  The amount of food to prepare can be enormous (and with some of the pastries, extremely time consuming) and the women bear the brunt of cooking it all.  While most everyone has time off that entire first week, most of the women are still cooking, cleaning, serving and visiting that whole time.  Many that I know say they need a vacation more after it’s all over.

One of the families I visited has a recently-married daughter who now lives in Yerevan.  She was happy to be in Gyumri as she told me that the Yerevan people don’t adhere to the traditions as much as the rest of the country does.  She was glad to be in the familiar world, even for a short visit.  Much as people can complain about all the bother they may find they miss it if it goes away. And next year, when I am back in the US, I am sure I will miss it also.

The Year in Review - 2011

Similar to last year, my last post of 2011 will be a fairly lazy one.  As noted last year, I remember a radio station doing a year-end recap of notable events in the guise of reading predictions that might have been made by someone, and which no one would have believed. Here is my list of predictions that someone might have made about me for 2011. 

• You will wander around the city scavenging for food for the first week of the year.  You will be excited when you find a store that is not only open but has eggs instead of coconuts.

• You will blow up a water heater by turning it on while your pipes are frozen.  You will make note of the fact that, had you been standing two feet to the left, you might no longer have a face.

• As a byproduct of the explosion you will be without water for a short period.  You will learn that you have to melt a significant amount of snow on the stove to get enough water to flush your toilet.

• You will be remarkably sanguine when you resume bucket bathing but will learn that 45 minutes of hot water in a public shower may be the best 500 dram you ever spent.

• You will join a gym and start befriending the Armenian cousins of Hans and Franz.

• While walking along a highway one day, you will be invited to a barbecue by four guys you have never met before.  Before the day ends, you will consume countless shots of vodka, visit one man’s father’s grave, visit three houses including one with an indoor bee farm, eat honey straight from the bees’ honeycomb,  and wonder if you will ever get home again.

• You will stare down a dog and hear the voice of the Peace Corps safety and security officer say “I told you so” when it bites you.

• You will consider moving your water bottle away from your laptop one minute before knocking over said bottle and frying your keyboard.

• You will travel often enough between Gyumri and Yerevan in one month to be a known presence at the bus station and essentially get a “frequent flyer” rate from taxi drivers there.

• You will watch the end of the Academy Awards at the civilized hour of 9AM.  Your Armenian will be sufficiently good to recognize that the simultaneous translation on TV is not accurate.

• You will walk nearly 200 miles across the country (wearing jeans) in nine days of walking.  You will only develop minor blisters and you will not collapse.  You will, however, eat astonishing amounts of food every day but lose weight.

• While sleeping outside at a Silk Road era caravan way-station, you will encounter a group of men who think it is a good idea to barbecue fish at 11:00 PM in the middle of nowhere.  You will accept shots of vodka from them while some of your traveling companions are scared half to death by their presence (and others sleep through the whole thing).

• Despite predictions of Armenians, you will NOT be eaten by wolves while sleeping at said Silk Road era caravan way-station.

• You will wisely avoid riding an inner tube down a rocky river that is only two feet deep.  The scars you see on your companions and the lost shoe of one will make you happy with your decision.

• The entire dynamic of your volunteer experience will change when the volunteers who welcomed you to Armenia last year leave and you become the welcomer, mentor and advisor.  From that point onward, time will somehow start going even faster than it had been.

• You will develop a fan club of 10-16 year olds by engaging in water and snowball fights with them.  You will also develop a fan club of five- and six-year olds for no discernible reason.

• You will discover that you have a knack for making soups, applesauce and peanut butter and baking bread, cakes and cookies - all from scratch.

• You will become a minor local celebrity of sorts after a television reporter literally puts words in your mouth by dubbing your voice with things he wished you had said. Regardless, you will self impose a media blackout.

• You will agree with a business university rector to conduct an English class for students who speak English but want to improve.  Upon starting the class, you will discover that none of them actually speak English and devote an entire lesson to vocabulary related to kitchens and food.

• You will learn that a Kindle that sits in a pool of orange juice for a couple of minutes will no longer work.

• You will stop working with a tutor but will find your Armenian improves when you start corresponding online using transliterated words.

• You will begin to think you have been in Armenia too long when the Chess King remainders you see in the market while clothes shopping “don’t look too bad.”

• A shoe repairman will suggest you marry his daughter and then show you the porn he watches on the television in his shop.

• You will work as a counselor at a week-long youth camp.  You will be utterly exhausted and be grateful that the GI problems you experience from drinking unfiltered water there will not require a doctor visit as it will for three other volunteers.

• You will experience your first earthquake that is somehow milder than the one felt in New York.

• You will climb the highest mountain in Armenia as part of a poorly planned 13 hour odyssey that includes climbing down a long stretch in the dark and losing your wallet in the process.

• In replacing the contents of your lost wallet, you will discover that you can get a new American Express card faster than you can get a new Peace Corps identification card.

• You will be very grateful that people not only come to visit you but lug many pounds of things for you in their luggage.

• You will finally go to the south of Armenia but fail to make it as far as the Iranian border.

• You will go to Tbilisi enough times to declare that Springtime is the best time of year to visit.

• You will attend a conference in a Soviet era hotel that was popular with the military as a “sanatorium”.  You will continually remark on how much the place reminds you of the movie “The Shining.”

• Your hopes for a mild winter will be dashed when snow starts to fall in mid-November and remains on the ground outside your door from then onward.

• While walking on ice and carrying both a tray of dessert you will fall on your ass and manage not to drop either (in other words, you will maintain your priorities).

• You will continually be amazed at the ability of Armenian men in dress shoes and Armenian women in spike heels to walk (and run) on ice without falling.

• You will go on vacation to countries significantly warmer than frost-covered Armenia yet still feel glad to return home.

• Amy Winehouse will be responsible for you winning money.

• You will read 27 books.

• You will see fewer than five movies released in 2011, breaking your multi-year low count from 2010.  But you will learn why so many people love “Arrested Development”.

• You will realize that receiving simple or silly things in the mail (old copies of Entertainment Weekly, Swiss Fudge Cookies, a frozen-margarita-in-a-bag kit, a toothbrush, a talking Mr. Hankey doll, cards from your nieces and nephews) can really brighten your day.

• After countless times of saying that women are not less intelligent than men, you will see that some people are accepting the message.  Smokers will thank you when you tell them you are teaching their children not to start smoking.  Participants in your conversation club will win prizes in a creative writing contest and thank you for encouraging them to enter in the first place.  You will realize that your effectiveness as a volunteer may come in small ways that you never expected.

 Here is wishing everyone a happy and healthy 2012.

A Home at the End of the World

As this week marked the anniversary of the 1998 earthquake, there have been quite a few news items surrounding the event itself, how it signaled change in the Soviet Union (despite initially declining, the USSR accepted foreign assistance for the first time since World War II) and the lingering impact.  

Since I am living in the city with most of the latter, I paid particular attention to these stories.  Many of them deal with “temporary housing” in “domiks” – usually with political finger-pointing or highlighting that movement to get people permanent housing always precedes election cycles (although the publishing of such stories during election cycles is another issue).  Regardless of the main topic, though, one of the recurring themes, and one which I have written about several times already, is the number of people still living in domiks.   

They are all over the city, and there are quite a few that I pass on a regular basis.  As families have grown over the years, some have been added to and they take on a different shape but you can usually see the original container. As they are made of metal, they are very hot in the summer and very cold in the winter.

They generally have no running water.  The woman in the picture below is getting her household water from a break in the pipe she is standing above.

 

In the course of my time here, I have been in several – one that a few of us looked at when we were looking for apartments last year, a few when I accompanied my co-workers on trips to give food and clothing to needy families.  If the family has had some form of income, they can be homey and almost comfortable (ignoring the temperature issue) while others make you wonder how people live in them. This article has a slideshow with the kind of pictures that need to be seen but which I never would have felt comfortable taking myself and interviews with some inhabitants. 

Slow as it may be, there are apartment buildings under construction and I sometimes hear of families finally getting permanent housing and see domiks being dismantled.  But the interview linked below provides another fascinating aspect of this story – and why some are resistant to move out of what have been their homes for decades. 

The concept of “learned helplessness” that he speaks about goes far beyond this particular aspect of Armenian life, and is important to understand how many people think.

Many of my projects involve working with people born after the earthquake and that presents another aspect - while their parents remember the earlier time, there is an entire generation for whom the presence of domiks (or living in one) is all that they have ever known.  Given that, acceptance of the situation seems almost inevitable.

I also walked for the first time this week through an area that seems not to have been touched since the earthquake.  The "Textil" neighborhood was so named because it was the center for the clothing and textile factories that were the economic heart of Gyumri.  They collapsed during the earthquake and the market for the products disappeared when the country separated from the Soviet Union so there has been no reason to reconstruct them.  I suppose this is the closest I will get to seeing what Gyumri was like right after the earthquake - there was snow on the ground then also.  Hard to imagine. [There are more pictures in the Gyumri photo album linked at right].

Again, there is an entire generation for whom this is not unusual. There are indications that people hang out there, drink and......do other things.  When you have this to walk through as a shortcut (the entire area is open) I suppose a domik can seem not so bad - think of the alternative.

We Are the 99%

Old habits are hard to break and I read the New York Times online every day while I am here.  While I have not read too many of the specific articles, it is impossible to miss the Occupy Wall Street movement and the tagline of “We Are the 99%”.  It is also impossible to miss the fact that similar protests have started in other cities around the world.  Armenia, however, has not picked up on it.  

There have been protest rallies ongoing in Yerevan for the past several months, arranged by the opposition parties of the government, but those have been aimed at partisan issues rather than income inequality.  But income inequality is definitely here.  While I have seen all along how pronounced it is when you compare Yerevan to the rest of the country, I also see it within Gyumri.  This was highlighted to me when I recently saw a video ad for a hotel that just opened here. 

Not only is the place over-the-top enough to make Donald Trump proud, but it is owned by the mayor of the city.  As I have mentioned many times, there are residents in the city who are still living in “temporary” housing that they moved into after the earthquake 23 years ago, many do not have running water, streets remain unpaved, streets are unlit, people gather around trees as they are pruned to take home firewood and unemployment is upwards of 70%.  But at the same time, a five-star hotel opens.  And while it is well known that the mayor owns it (and, naturally, paid for it himself) someone pointed out to me that the construction timetable pretty much matched that of the new city hall and the stonework and many fixtures inside are conveniently the same in both buildings.  Curious.

While there have been no “Occupy Gyumri” protests, I have heard that the online news outlets have been full of reader commentary critical of the hotel for the reasons cited above.  And reality seems to have arrived in one respect – while the initial room rates started at 50,000 dram per night, I am told that there have been very few guests since the hotel opened a couple of months ago and yesterday I was told that the starting rate is now 20,000 dram.

Behind the building you can see some of the “temporary” domiks or other run down houses.   

Domiks behind the hotel which you can see on the right

This is partly because there are no such things as “rich” neighborhoods here.  When the country separated itself from the Soviet Union, everyone was given the homes they were in, free and clear.  The earthquake had destroyed many of those buildings and some people were able to rebuild their houses (quite a few of which I call “Mansionyans”) on their properties, which may be next to the domiks their neighbors have not been able to afford to move out from.  

Mansionyan

Adjacent to the house above

This article from 2005 about the disappearing middle class in Armenia is still relevant.  The article was written after the second post-independence presidential election (and that president was replaced in the last cycle) but the themes are consistent with what I hear on a daily basis. 

So where to Peace Corps volunteers fit into this? We receive a monthly living allowance that is intended for us to live at a level consistent with the communities in which we live.  Excluding rent – to make matters comparable for the home ownership I mentioned; I read recently that 89% of Armenians own their homes outright - we receive between 117,000 and 129,000 dram per month. Depending on the exchange rate, this comes to about $300 – 350 per month and the variation in the amount over the course of the year is because we get extra funds in colder months to cover higher utility costs.  This amount is not much different than the average monthly salary in Armenia of about 115,000 dram (although salaries, unlike our allowances, don’t increase in the colder months).  The average excluding Yerevan is about 95,000 dram, putting us somewhat above that average; nonetheless, I have heard anecdotes from other volunteers who were asked how much we get and were then asked “How do you live on that?”

While some of us have personal savings we can draw from, Peace Corps discourages that.  A big part of being effective here is fitting in with your community and living more lavishly than everyone else could easily prevent that (and, believe me, people notice everything we do and buy).  There is a perception that everyone from the US is rich and periodically I am asked for money from strangers on the street.  To counteract that perception, and to allow integration with ordinary citizens, we become the 99%.  

I do dip into my savings when I go to Yerevan and want to treat myself to a dinner nicer than a kebab, but I live within my Peace Corps allowance while at home in Gyumri.  The bulk of the PCVs in Armenia are living likewise and it does make you appreciate how most people here live.  I normally cook for myself instead of eating out.  I have gotten quite adept at finding ways to save money such as buying groceries in the market by the kilo instead of packaged (tea, flour, rice, etc) which is significantly less expensive.  I have gotten good at repairing my socks instead of replacing them (never mind that I can’t really find any that I like anyway).  What “luxuries” I have treated myself to lately include a vacuum cleaner and a blender, and even with those I am not spending more than I get. 

While people here pay a lot of attention to how they dress, I do notice people wearing the same things multiple days in a week.  This is probably a combination of not spending a lot of money in absolute terms on clothing and the pain-in-the-ass factor of line drying in cold weather (both of which I relate to).  That may also explain why so many people here wear black all the time.

Food prices also have been rising lately.  While pricing changes based on supply and demand are a byproduct of a market economy, it is hard to separate how much is pure economics versus manipulation (when you go into capitalism and market economics, oligopolies are another byproduct).  This is all fine academically, but when you see people foregoing food because it is beyond their means it gives you a much different perspective.  And after egg prices doubled at the end of last year the government started talking about regulating food prices.  Again, old habits die hard.

The one exception, or “luxury”, that I allow myself is to run my heating more than the average person does. As my second winter here sets in, I notice that people do not normally turn on their heat before November 1 no matter what.  Regardless of the fact that this year has been much colder so far and the cold started much earlier, people just bundle up and endure it until the time comes to fire up the heaters.  So as to do this reasonably, I do as most people do: I spend most of my time in the room with my gas heater and stay in much of the time. 

In the first few years of independence, things were much worse.  After the earthquake in 1988, Armenia’s nuclear power plant (which produces about 40% of Armenia's electricity) was shut.  Closure of the borders with Turkey and Azerbaijan created energy shortages and the government decided to reopen it in 1993.  During that time, various nations donated kerosene heaters and areas, such as Gyumri, were virtually deforested as people cut down trees for firewood.  Family libraries were decimated for the same reason.  Now, people tend to have wood stoves, gas heaters, electric heaters or some combination of the above.  But gas, electricity and wood cost money and many people factor warmth into the equation with food and clothing as to how to spend the relatively little amount they have each month.

Matters are even worse in schools, many of which do not have heat at all.  Most of my fellow volunteers who work in schools post pictures of their students on Facebook at some point, and virtually every picture I see shows kids in coats, scarves, hats and gloves in the classrooms.  

Darryn teaching technology

As a result of all of this, one might expect frustration from the inequality to eventually boil up.  And while I do hear people grumble about it, the same way people grumble about corruption, many seem to accept it as part of life.  I chalk this up to another byproduct of the Soviet era and I am reminded of a famous line from Animal Farm, which, as I pointed out in my last post, I recently re-read:  “All animals are equal but some animals are more equal than others.” 

But others take a different approach.  While the younger generation in the US is staging protests, this survey  seems to indicate that the younger generation here is simply planning to leave – maybe to go to the US.    

And the Strangest Things Seem Suddenly Routine

I suppose that it is an understatement that time adds perspective to things, yet with the quickening passage of time the change in your view can really surprise you with how sudden it seems. 

This phenomenon repeatedly comes into focus the longer the newer group of volunteers is here in Armenia.  As they go through their first experiences in country, my group goes through its second round.  As I try to give advice as winter approaches and about how to settle into living alone here (the newer volunteers are now able to move out from their host families’ homes if they wish) I often forget how surprising some things were this time last year.  When I recently advised someone “unless you are planning to take one in to live with you, don’t get too attached to the puppies here” it was later described as one of the saddest things that person had heard in a while. While I have no problem owning up to being cynical, I don’t think that is the reason why little makes me stop and do a double-take (although “TIA”, meaning “This is Armenia” does pop up as an explanation a lot).  

So here is a partial list of things that may still annoy me, make me laugh or make me sad but don’t really surprise me.  I can mention them casually in a conversation, forgetting that is was all news to me a short time ago:

• ·         Electricity cutting off for no apparent reason.  This can mean having to read by candlelight or my coworkers not being able to work (I use my laptop so power failures don't normally stop me).

• Scheduling laundry based on when the power is strong enough for the spinner in the machine to work sufficiently.

• Scheduling showers around variations in water pressure or foregoing one entirely because I took one within the last three days.

• Being unable to flush a toilet in someone’s apartment because the water schedule for that town (or street, or building) doesn’t allow it at that time of day. That is if the person even has a flush toilet.

• Vegetables that can sit on the table unused for days and not spoil.

• Having a room that can serve as a refrigerator.

• Keeping one room in my home warm while I am able to see my breath in all of the others.

• Sleeping in bed, inside a sleeping bag, along with several blankets on top.

• People who cut into a line with no argument from anyone who has been waiting.

• Seeing a guy wearing dress shoes with a track suit or a girl in church with cleavage-enhancing clothing.

• Seeing guys in dress shoes walk easily across ice and snow [especially considering that is how I broke my leg a few years back].

• Seeing women in spike heels walk easily across ice and snow [when asked, they will explain that the heels are safer since they act as ice picks].

• Boys who appear to be 14 being served beer in a café.

• Knowing a dentist with his own practice who is 22.

• Weddings that take place any day of the week (and learning a coworker is not in the office because of he or she is attending one of those weddings).

• Seeing someone buy a shotglass full of sunflower seeds and having them put in his back pocket (loose) for easier snacking access

• A car covered in Dolce & Gabbana logos.

• Seeing used Coke bottles being used as containers for benzene, homemade vodka and/or homemade wine.

• Being waved down on the street by the postman since everyone in the neighborhood obviously knows the American in their midst.

• Leaving letters at the post office and never knowing if they will be delivered.

• Bottles of wine and vodka that are “expensive” if they cost more that the equivalent of $5.

• My standard for wine declining from “good” to “drinkable”.

• Seeing dogs, cats or cows eating out of trash bins or seeing cows in a road.

A fellow volunteer shared an experience when his girlfriend came to visit and they went to the training village where he had lived.  She was bothered by the sheer number of flies everywhere which he had stopped noticing.  While we in New York perceive flies as a sign of uncleanliness, in Armenia they are a natural byproduct of having livestock around.

Another point of evidence that my perspective has changed is that I am taking fewer photographs lately.  While I took hundreds of pictures in the first months I was here, the sight of a collapsed building, a rail car converted into a house, a cow eating trash, Soviet symbols and other things that were fascinating early on are not as noteworthy now.  But, as I have written before, some things are changing here so I find myself revisiting earlier photos to keep a record of the changes. 

2010

2011

And this next one only took a few weeks to change.

While I am impressed with myself that I have gotten used to the inconveniences here, I have decided not to visit the US during my service, partly because I fear having to get used to everything again.  My living circumstances have improved from my Solak house (no indoor plumbing, no running water) to my Gyumri host house (indoor plumbing, running cold water) to my apartment (running hot water and a very decent bathroom) so I am content.  But that is not to say that I wouldn't like to take showers more than once a day if the mood struck me.  If I were to visit the US now, I am not likely to be so acclimated to Armenian life as to not take a shower because I don’t expect running hot water there 24/7, but I don’t think that I would want to have to re-acclimate when returning. 

In the meantime, being an “experienced” volunteer doesn’t protect me from being caught off guard by the earlier onset of cold weather this year.  While we did not have a serious snowfall last winter until New Year, we got about six inches of snow in Gyumri last Friday – and we were late to the party since other areas had snow on the ground at Halloween.  But again, the perspective has changed – it is not how cold it is, just that it's come earlier.

The view from my kitchen on Saturday morning

Living here has also given me a new perspective in other areas.  I recently re-read Animal Farm by George Orwell, which I can appreciate much more now than I could when I was in high school.  Back then, I had no clue about what it was satirizing.  I don’t by any means consider myself an expert on the Russian Revolution, the socialist system or what life under Stalin was like, but I have now lived for a year and a half in a country that was one of the “neighboring farms” for 70 years.  And I think I can understand how people can be made to believe that their lives are better than they are since I often meet people nostalgic for the Soviet period.  

While 99.5% of votes were cast for Armenian independence in 1991, it is clear that nobody foresaw the economic consequences (particularly those caused by ancillary factors such as the subsequent war with Azerbaijan and Turkey closing its border in sympathy with Azerbaijan).  What people recall is that during the Soviet times, everyone had jobs, food and heat.  Few seem to care that there were drawbacks in the Soviet system as much as they do about not having sufficient money to live on now.  Never mind that the Soviet Union could probably not have survived much longer economically – the response is normally that things were better then.  

So, with all the talk lately about Russia forming a new Eurasian Union (including this article), I will be very curious to see how far Armenia will take its alliance with Russia. Maybe things will get better, maybe not.  I guess it all depends on how you look at it.