The Long and Winding Road

This past week, I completed the first (annual?) Peace Corps Armenia Border 2 Border walk. It was tough, it was tiring, we had some hiccups along the way but from my perspective it was a great success. We held 11 health seminars for (mostly) children, handed out a lot of pamphlets and had conversations with a lot of people in places between seminar sites, and we taught a few dozen people lesson plans so that they can do similar classes in the future. We also got to see a large swath of the country at a very slow pace, allowing us to take in a lot of what the country has to offer.

So here is a summary of what it was all about and an album of pictures.

B2B

The Walk

We covered a total of about 290 kilometers over a fifteen day period, with four days of no walking because we did presentations and one full rest day without walking or a presentation. The shortest walk was five km (from the border itself to the first presentation site on the day of that presentation) and the longest was 42 km. We climbed a few mountains, traveled through two tunnels (one on foot) and got a lot of curious stares from drivers and others we passed.

We were very lucky with weather and started early almost every morning to avoid late afternoon rain in most areas and the climbing temperatures. We only got caught in real rain one day and sat out part of the storm in a guardsman’s house while he offered us tea and snacks. A few minutes after we reached Stepanavan, a freakish hail storm started but we were lucky to be in shelter by then. It was cloudy and somewhat cool most days except for the day we reached Sevan and the last two days as we approached Yeghegnadzor, where the temperature is typically very hot.

All of the people we passed were curious about what we were doing, incredulous about the distance we were walking (we chuckled when someone told us a destination was VERY far as it was 10 km distant) and very supportive of the project.

We passed through cities, towns and villages. We walked through or past herds of cows, sheep and goats. We saw a lot of horses and quite a few dogs who made a show of being tough but didn’t do a very good job of it. We passed many abandoned factories and working farms. We were passed by everything from Ladas to Mercedes to horse carts. And a truck transporting a tank.

And we saw lots of gorgeous scenery. The timing of the walk couldn’t have been better in that respect as the countryside is covered with purple, red, yellow and white wildflowers and the green pastures haven't yet turned brown with summer heat. The days are long and the air is mostly clear in the morning and early afternoon.

The only day that we hiked instead of following a road all day started with an hour-long climb that took us past a reconstructed 700-year-old church and up to a hilltop that overlooked Lake Sevan. We descended into a village where I had previously been hosted for lunch by a local family from whom I had asked directions. They hosted us again, treating us to home-made cheese, bread and jam as well as fresh vegetables from their garden. (We were also given a load of lavash and cheese to take on the road and another invitation to return for a khorovats.)

While we accepted that invitation, we turned down dozens of others as we walked since we normally had a lot of distance to cover each day. It still amazes me that people we had never met would invite six (somewhat unwashed) complete strangers into their homes immediately upon meeting us. One man literally blocked the sidewalk and it took some convincing that we didn't have time to come it. Yet more examples of the hospitality this country is known for.

The Presentations

We did five presentations before reaching Yeghegnadzor and a final one with the Southern team after we all arrived there. While the programs were the same (lessons about nutrition, exercise and the effects of drinking and smoking) the audiences were different depending on where we were. Kids in a small village like Dzoramut can be expected to be very attentive as the whole idea of Americans visiting is a novelty to them. We had heard the morning we arrived that there had been a death in the village and, since it was a small one, we might not have many children attend since everyone would be paying respects to the family. Nonetheless, we had more than 40 kids and teens turn out – about 10 percent of the total village population. After the classes, we played Frisbee and soccer with them.

Kids in the larger towns and villages brought along different life experiences that affected how they heard the information. In Vanadzor, some of the kids’ teachers also attended and I (helping with the class about the effects of alcohol) had to respond to questions such as whether a glass of wine in the morning is beneficial (a doctor told one woman it is) and I responded that, at least for me, wine in the morning would not be compatible with getting work done. A group from the YMCA did a dance routine afterward – including to the song “YMCA” - and they expressed surprise that the Americans present knew about dance steps that has been around since before they were born.

But in every case, the impact of some of the lessons could be seen on their faces. To the extent that even one kid doesn’t start smoking or get in a car with a drunk driver, we can say we were successful.

Our Accommodations

For the most part we stayed with fellow volunteers in their apartments or with their host families. This involved a lot of sleeping bag coordination and/or sleeping on couches and extra mattresses. At each place some of us lucked out and got a real bed. And as we arrived in each spot we were greeted with warmth and welcome and in one case ice cream and tubs of cool water to soak our feet in.

But three nights’ lodgings were out of the ordinary.

On the first night, in Dzoramut, the director of the village school had invited us to stay at her house and we had a very pleasant dinner and conversation with her and her family. Her husband, a veteran of the Red Army who served in Russia – Afghanistan war in the early 1980’s shared his army photo album with us. Apparently, such albums are very common and feature cartoons with a wolf character representing a soldier. The album gave fascinating insights as to the other side of the "evil empire" I had always been taught about.

Our shortest day without a presentation took us through three small villages and we stayed in the third, Gegharkunik. On the way into that village, we came upon a group of men at the local cemetery and we joined them at the graveside to honor the recently departed, including food and vodka shots. Even though we did not do a seminar in the village, we attracted attention as foreigners are bound to. We started playing Frisbee in the yard of the youth center which attracted a group of guys to watch, followed by younger kids after which we moved to the local soccer field. After more Frisbee, a soccer game and various games with the smaller kids, the day ended with some volleyball practice with the older boys. We camped out in a game room in the youth center.

We had decided to split the 60+ km trip from Martuni to Yegegnadzor into two sections and there is an ancient way-station about halfway that was used in the days that the Silk Road ran through Armenia. The caravanserai is a bit of a tourist spot and we encountered a Russian couple, various Armenian families passing by and a former PC volunteer on a visit with his Armenian wife and her family. Sleeping outside seemed like a good idea until the wind and moisture put our sleeping bags to the test and a group showed up at 11 PM for a barbecue (they seemed as surprised to see us as we were to see them). Those of us who woke up declined the invitation to eat although I did take a shot to be polite. And to help keep warm.

As we reached each destination, we generally petered out after a short while until food was introduced. I think our fellow volunteer / host on the first long day was at a bit of a loss as to what to do with us as we quickly became quiet and either napped or read until eating and heading to bed. We soon settled into a pattern of relaxing upon arriving, inhaling whatever food we had and going to bed as early at 8:30 PM. In Martuni, we didn’t manage to stay awake long enough to see the eclipse that night but the pictures we saw were very nice.

In Vanadzor, dinner one night was at a Georgian restaurant where the waitress thought we couldn’t possibly eat all the food we ordered – this became a pattern for the rest of the trip as we proved her wrong. In Dilijan we stayed with a fellow volunteer and her host family and inhaled a platter of grilled cheese sandwiches in about six minutes. On the road, we ate variations on the Armenian staples of sausage, cheese, cucumbers and tomatoes as well as healthy doses of nuts, raisins, oranges and bananas. And Snickers bars and ice cream – but don’t tell the kids that.

The Aftermath

A few of us had knee problems along the way, most of us had blisters and we were all beaten down by the heat on the last day. We all managed to stay moderately hydrated and only one of us had a bad day due to eating something (luckily not a walking day). I managed to avoid any real physical problems so I suppose I was in better shape than I gave myself credit for. And we all completed every kilometer which is an achievement in itself.

We met up with the Southern team in Yeghegnadzor (they had walked an equivalent distance) and had a rest day before our final presentation. After that, we all celebrated with the others who assisted with the presentation and took time to relax before heading home or to other destinations. [For posts from both teams during the walk see this link.]

So – would I do this again next year if there is a second annual walk? Probably not as it would more rightly be a project for the next batch of volunteers and I have already had my experience. But I am glad that I did this one.

It's a long, long road...

Tomorrow I start on the Border2Border project that I had previously written about. I haven't had too much time to train and am fighting a cold this week but I am biting the bullet and heading out. Luckily, we have about 15 hours of daylight every day right now so we can take things as slowly as we need to and will have a lot of support along the way (fellow volunteers that we will stay with, volunteers from the Red Cross, World Vision and other organizations that will help with presentations and probably random meals from people we pass).

A picture of the route is above and I am in the team walking from the Georgian border (at the top of the country) to Yeghegnadzor (the blue dot).

I will have very limited internet access during the next few weeks so this is my last post until we are done. Stay tuned for stories, pictures and whatever else comes along.

Here we go....

525,600 Minutes

Today marks one year since I left New York for the Peace Corps. I know I sound like a broken record but I am constantly amazed at how quickly the time goes. I have also spent time with a fair number of people in the group before mine (the ones who are nearly finished with their service) and I keep hearing how the second year goes faster than the first. So don’t expect me to stop harping on that aspect any time soon.

As those who know me also know that I am obsessive about time markers, this seems like an opportune time to reflect on the first twelve months here and how it has been different from what I had expected / hoped for / planned for / feared.

Language – I had hoped that I would be somewhat fluent by this point and it has not come to pass. Due to the intensive language training we got at the start, I was pleasantly surprised at my progress in the first two months and hoped that trend would continue. I can point to several reasons why it has not:

• The older you get, the harder it is to acquire a new language

• I had a difficult time lining up a tutor and the one I worked with turned out to be less than I wanted and then blew me off. I have not yet worked hard enough to hire a new one.

• I have been pretty busy with various things so the daily dedication to studying has dropped off a fair bit

• The dialect in Gyumri is notorious, so my studying of “proper” Armenian doesn’t really help me to understand what I hear all day

• A lot of people pepper their sentences with Russian which really throws me. I jokingly chastised my co-workers one day when one said “privet” (Russian for “hello”). I pointed out that it was tough enough for me to learn Armenian without another language thrown in.

Having said all that, I am pretty proud of myself as to what I can communicate. I can read (slowly and with the help of a dictionary) and write (sloppily but my English handwriting is no study in excellence either). I can speak enough to make myself understood. My real problem is listening comprehension – both because of dialect and the fact that the sentence structure tends to be different and a lot of words tend to be longer. I often ask people to speak slowly and to use simple words and with that I can carry on conversations pretty well.

But I still run into the problem caused by people not expecting me to speak Armenian. I was in a taxi recently, waiting for it to fill so I could go to Yerevan. A man spoke to me in Russian and I responded, in Armenian, that I don’t speak Russian. Despite this, for the next 20 minutes, he kept speaking to me in Russian while I replied that I did not understand him. A while later, I started listening to his conversation with the driver and realized they were speaking Armenian. A short time later, the driver (with whom I had spoken earlier) asked me a question and my fellow passenger told him that I did not understand. The driver replied that I speak Armenian and the fellow passenger was genuinely surprised. He did not repeat to me what he had been trying to communicate earlier. I continued to read my book.

And no matter how bad my Armenian is, the people I speak to praise my language skills. I honestly think that they truly appreciate the effort put forth in learning their language. Considering all the hardships they have endured, the maintenance of their language and culture is crucial to them so the more people who speak it, the better.

Work – One of the things that we are continually told is to not have expectations and to be flexible. For the most part I have been but it can still be frustrating in the work arena.

When we get our site assignments, there is a sort of job description based on the application the organization submitted when requesting a volunteer. Since that can be a long process, the needs assumed at application time may be different than they are when you get there, the people may be different for various reasons (someone on maternity leave, someone with another function that takes precedence, etc) or the organization may not really want what they said they did, but included information in the application they thought would get them a volunteer. Quite a few in my group have changed primary sites for the last reason but I am still where I started. I am not, however, doing what was in my site description (again for various reasons) so I am continually getting involved in different things and doing what I can to assist my organization.

The accounting skills I built up during my career may not ever get used here for a variety of reasons. The small business owners that I see everywhere don’t speak English and I have doubts about becoming conversant enough in Armenian to discuss accounting, management or cash flow forecasting. Many are not interested in making more money (in their official records at least) because the tax structure in Armenia disproportionately burdens small businesses. And there are many cultural issues that negate the “wisdom” of Western business practices. Nonetheless, I am slowly updating a small business accounting manual that I found in the Peace Corps archives and hope that I can enlist a business student here to translate it.

Someone said to me early on that all PCVs eventually become English teachers and I believe that is true. I co-teach a business English class, I have several English clubs and I edit translations for an organization, at the same time trying to help the workers there improve their language skills. The level of participation in the class and clubs can vary significantly from week to week, but there is a core group that attends almost all of them as they have little opportunity to otherwise practice the English they have learned. Their enthusiasm is very gratifying and I tend to seek them out to pass along scholarship opportunities I learn about.

One of the most fun projects I have worked with is the International Writing Olympics, a program that a PCV in Georgia started a few years back. Students in the participating countries compete against others in their own country to write for an hour in response to essay prompts. The national winners are then entered into competition against the winners from other non-English speaking countries. Two women from my conversation club got first place in Armenia for their university grade levels and a third got second place. One of the first place winners also placed second in the international competition. While there was virtually no work on my part beside encouraging people to enter, it was great to see how much everyone seemed to enjoy it and the thrill the winners felt. Many people here (who speak English far better than I speak Armenian) are very self-critical about their language skills. Affirmation about those skills may have benefits long after we are gone.

Gyumri Olympians

Anahit writing her way to a first place finish

From a work perspective, we also have to adapt as the Peace Corps does. Since I have been here, two of the four programs have been discontinued, we have a new country director and some of the other staff will be changing soon also (there are “term limits” on staff positions so the American members of the staff turn over often). As with the accounting firm I used to work with, while there are world-wide policies that are followed, each individual person brings his or her own personality and approach into matters. While all the staff people I have worked with have been great, changes there add another aspect to the required flexibility.

Adaptation/Assimilation – One of the reasons I joined the Peace Corps is that I wanted to experience living in another culture. While I have traveled a lot, there is a huge difference between visiting a place and living there. As it turns out, it has been easier than I expected, partly because this is a relatively cushy location to be sent, and partly because I have again kept the promise to myself to be adaptable.

I say that I specifically am in a relatively cushy location, because I am in a city instead of a village, I have three fellow volunteers in my city that had a year’s worth of experience to draw upon (and two others from my group) and I have a comfortable place to live with a nice landlord and neighbors. I also had two “professional” host families that had gotten used to having foreigners in their homes. But I would also say that Armenia as a whole is a relatively easy place to be posted because it is a “transitioning” country instead of a “developing” one. We have 3G internet that keeps getting better and cheaper over time, there is consistent cel phone service, and the capital (and some of the cities) have many of the “comforts of home” such as peanut butter, supermarkets and KFC. In addition, the country is pretty small but we have a substantial number of volunteers here so that even people without sitemates can pretty easily get together with others, whereas some other countries are so large that it can be several days travel to see other people.

But beyond that, I have found it remarkably easy to lower my standards and expectations to live without things that they don’t have here. I have talked a lot about this in earlier posts, with using outhouses, living without hot water (or running water), dealing with delays in virtually every aspect of life (work, transportation, starting times for cultural events), unexplained power outages, stumbling along roads that are badly paved if at all, figuring out how many times you can get away with wearing the same things before washing them, and on and on.

I don’t get weepy when I think about things that were part of my everyday life in New York (movies all the time in theaters, Thai restaurants that deliver in 10 minutes, coin operated laundry that gets your clothes clean and dry, bookstores, Costco) because I still enjoy the newness of the things I experience here.

For example, I can’t think of a single time in my life that someone invited me into their home in New York because I was a stranger. Yet the other day, as I was walking through a village I had never before set foot in (and may never have been visited by an American), I asked a family working in their yard whether I was headed the way I thought I was. The father answered “no” but rather than just ending there or simply giving me directions, he asked if I was hungry. I said I wasn’t hungry but accepted the follow-on offer of tea or coffee. The whole family (father, mother, son, grandmother, grandfather) then sat down with me and out came a table full of food and a bottle of vodka before the tea even came out (and I wound up eating anyway). They asked a lot of questions about me and what I am doing here, toasts were proposed to my health and to meeting each other and they happily obliged when I asked to take their picture. Afterward, the son personally walked me to the road I wanted. I have already been invited back so they can prepare a proper khorovats.

Rubik, his wife and parents

Similarly, one day when I was out for a walk, a car stopped and I was invited to a roadside khorovats. The day turned into one of eating, toasts, visiting the grave of one guy's father, more eating, seeing the bees kept in someone's house, more toasts and coffee in another house. It turned out to be a very long day but it was a lot of fun.

Most of the khoravats crew

And while I would like to have some proper Italian, Mexican and Chinese food and a decent hamburger again, I really do like most of the food I have had here (even the khash wasn't that bad). It would be difficult to seek out Armenian food when I go back to New York next year (to my knowledge there is only one Armenian restaurant and it is in Brooklyn) but it will probably be another category that I will get cravings for from time to time.

I still get stared at and will until the day I leave. While there are plenty of tall people in Gyumri (unlike Solak where I was probably the tallest person in the village) I get stares probably because my skin is light, my eyes are blue, my shoes may be dirty, I have facial hair (not common here), my head is shaved (full out baldness is relatively uncommon), I am not wearing an Adibas tracksuit or a faux-Versace sweater (black, of course - see the picture above) and who knows why else. How I respond to that depends on my mood – I may ignore it, I may nod my head and say “Barev Dzez”, I may stare back, I may bask in the adoration. But it doesn’t really bother me.

Some of the differences that I have written or will write about I will never fully adapt to (gender disparities, treatment of animals, corruption) but I try to make dents in the accepted notions – not to tell people that something is necessarily incorrect, but to at least get them to think about them instead of simply accepting them as a part of life.

Homesickness – Before coming here, the longest time I had been away from the US at one stretch was three months. During that trip (in 1996) I traveled alone and battled periodic homesickness. As a result, I wasn’t sure how I would handle 27 months.

In the time since 1996, I have become a different person and technology has made it much easier to stay in touch. Also, as I said above, there are a lot of us here – both in Armenia and in Gyumri – so if I want to talk to an American face-to-face I can do so almost any time I want. And, since I have made a home here, solitude is easier than it is in a hotel room / B&B / guesthouse.

I sometimes get “memory flashes” – images in my mind of places in New York that I like, such as a wine bar on 51^st street, a particular tree lined street in the East Village, the Brooklyn Heights promenade. They occur to me suddenly, and I can never really figure out what prompts them. But instead of causing sadness because I miss them, they cause pleasant feelings as you get when you think about the places you visited on vacation.

And I do miss my family and friends and will probably not appreciate how much until I get home next year and discover all that I missed. As I learned on prior trips, people go on with their lives while you are away and they may forget to mention things when you talk on the phone periodically – if something is everyday to them it may not seem important although it will be a shock to you. Your favorite store may be gone; the bartender you were friendly with has new regulars; family dynamics change as the kids get older; you know that someone died but you don’t see how the change affects those left behind.

We hear a lot here about the “reverse culture shock” you experience in returning home after a Peace Corps stint. The problem is that you are homesick for what you left – and that may not be there when you get back. And you are a different person than the one everyone at home remembers. But you didn’t notice that change happening either.

Weather – I had been prepared to live in a frozen tundra for a winter that would last six months. As it turns out, New York had a much worse winter than Gyumri did and I only wore my new winter boots (purchased for moving here) twice. While my building is not insulated, I have a great heater in my living room. I overpacked clothing-wise, so I could layer to my heart’s content if needed. My Peace Corps issued YakTrax were great for dealing with the snow and ice we did get, even if they provided yet another reason for people to stare at me.

Having said that, while it can be very warm in the afternoon, we are still getting night temperatures in the 40s. We did not get a lot of snow but it snowed almost every day for six weeks straight. The snow outside my door (and in other parts of the city) did not melt for months where the sun didn’t hit. So it can get a little depressing not knowing when the cold will finally go away and the snow has been replaced by daily rain.

But right now, the country is gorgeous. There are flowers everywhere, the trees seem to sprout leaves literally overnight and there is a green tint to everything (at least when the sun is out). While it is raining every day in Gyumri, it tends to be late afternoon and night so I can enjoy beautiful weather during the day.

So, how is it? - In answer to the questions I often get about what it is like to be in the Peace Corps, the answer remains that it depends. No matter how flexible you try to be, everyone has their own expectations (even if they don’t think they do). Everyone has bad days (and I hope everyone has good days too). Everyone deals with different people – both the Armenians they come in contact with and the Americans they see and socialize with. I will continue to be adaptable, to enjoy what I can, try to learn from what I don’t enjoy and move on.

I am also asked whether it feels like longer/shorter than a year. The answer is both - time has flown, but so I have experienced so much in the past year, met so many new people, seen so many things, that it's hard to believe it hasn't been longer.

And to the questions about whether it is what I expected, the answer is that it is both more and less. And I don’t know if I will be able to fully answer that question until a fair amount of time after I am finished. But for right now, I am glad I am here.

The Name Game

Early on in training (in fact, it may have been day 2 in Armenia) we had a language lesson with a quiz. We were shown a group of names and had to figure out if each was for a man or a woman. Unlike names we are used to, there are no none like Pat, Terry or Chris that can be either. But the quiz proved tougher than I expected as I had not yet learned how names are derived here.

Many of the men’s names are derived from ancient Armenian heroes, saints or even towns from the lands that once comprised Armenia (some now in Turkey). Some have Persian derivation, resulting from the periods when the area was under Persian control. Some of the women’s names are from saints or from feminine associated things (flowers, gems) but many are derivations of men’s names. Those ones are constructed with a man’s name plus “e” or “uhi”.

As is common is many cultures, children are often given names in remembrance of a relative or ancestor. But one thing I learned recently really surprised me. As I have mentioned before, when a woman marries, she typically moves in with her husband’s parents. It turns out that when she gives birth, she does not typically get to pick the child’s name – her mother-in-law does. And since there are female derivations of men’s names, if the mother-in-law wants to remember a dearly departed grandfather, the child’s gender doesn’t matter – a suffix can take care of it.

For various reasons, there are a helluva lot of names starting with A. Popular men’s names include Ara (a legendary hero and king), Aram, Ararat (for the mountain that is no longer in Armenia but is one of its symbols), Armen (commonly believed to be related to the name Armenia, although people here call the country Hayastan), Arman, Arsen, Ashot, Arshak, Artur and Alik. Women’s names derived from those include Arsine, Armine and Armenuhi. Other women’s names are Ana, Ani (the ancient capital), Anna, Arevik (little sun), Astghik, Aghavni (little dove), Anahit, Arpine and Anush (sweet).

Other common names that seem to travel in pairs are Karen (male – confusing to us) and Karine (or Karin), Narek and Narine, Tigran and Tigranuhi. Some westernized names have gotten established here such as Robert, and more names that we would find typical are creeping in as Western culture continues to expand its influence. No Jennifer’s yet that I am aware of but it may be just a matter of time. Others that are related to names we know are also common - Gevorg (George), Grigor (Gregory), Hovhannes (John), Davit (David).

Some sound more masculine or feminine and are easy to remember. Hayk is a male name, from the legendary founder of the Armenian nation. Tigran (male) was the mighty king who conquered the lands of Ancient Armenia. Sona, Nara, Gayane, Lena, Nune, Mariam, Siranush and Liana were easily recognizable as female names.

But then there are some that I was at a loss to guess. Razmik (male) means warrior while Hasmik (female) means Jasmine. Gohar (female) means pearl. Hamest (female) means modest. Karapet (male) means leader. Astghik (female) means little star but Gagik is a male name derived from a Persian one. Vahagn (male) was the god of war and thunder and Vahan may be a derivation of that. Hripsime (female) is an Armenian saint. Harut (male) is a short form of Harutyan which means rise from the dead (Armenian zombies!). Mher (male) is from a Persian god but Meri (female) is the same as Mary. Nshan (male) essentially means Mark. Gor (male) means proud. Gagik (male) was an ancient king. Mkhitar (male), while a very manly sounding name, means comfort, which you might think would lead it to be a woman’s name. Sargis (male) is an Armenian saint and is related to the Italian Sergio.

And then there are some that I can’t explain. I have met three men so far named Hamlet. Ruben is also pretty common.

Last names are usually derived from the men’s names as the –ian/-yan suffix essentially means “son of”, similar to the Irish/Scots “O’”, “Mc” and “Mac” and the Spanish/Italian “de” and “di”. As a result, there are a lot of Hovhannisyans running around. And someone in Cher’s family (full name Cherilyn Sarkissian as the Armenians like to point out) had to have been named Sargis.

Maybe following the Russian tradition (as a result I assume of the long periods as part of the Russian Empire and later the Soviet Union) you often hear people called by diminutive versions of their names. Therefore, Hovhannes becomes Hovo or Hovik. Andranik (which already sounds like a diminutive but means “first born”) may become Ando. And some of the “ik” names are not diminutive (such as Rasmik and Hasmik). In those cases, people may just address them as Ras and Has.

In fairness, Armenians also have some difficulty with the names we find common. Mine, for example, is one of the most basic in the English language, ranking in the top five most common in the US for the past 100 years or so. But in Armenian, the way we pronounce it is the same way that an endearment is pronounced (“Tat jan” is how you would affectionately address an older woman, with “tat” meaning grandmother). I have to stress the “o” more so it sounds more like “Joan”. Many people here crack themselves up when they hear my name by immediately saying “John jan!” as if that were the first time I had ever heard that. It’s sort of like how people make fun of my feet by asking about water-skiing without skis – I just have to smile and move on.

Some names are difficult for Armenians to pronounce because the sounds do not exist in the language. There is no “th” sound, so names like Theodore come out more like its Russian counterpart Fyodor. But there are some names that I can’t understand why people here have trouble pronouncing, with William as a perfect example. While there is no “w” sound in the Armenian alphabet, many who speak English pronounce “v” as “w” (“I live in a willage”). But when it comes to pronouncing William, it comes out “Villiam”.

On the other hand, some people may just be embarrassed by the result. For example, fellow volunteer Lizzie couldn’t understand why people couldn’t pronounce her name even though the sounds all exist in the Armenian language. Recently, though, someone pointed out to her that the word in Armenian is how you would tell someone to lick something – suddenly it made more sense.

So the name game would be fun here - let's do Armen: Armen, Armen, bo Barmen....

Renewal and Remembrance

While not quite an adventure, experiencing Easter here was different just like everything else is. And this year was even different for the Armenians because it happened to coincide with the national day to commemorate the victims of the Armenian Genocide.

Some Easter traditions I learned about are similar to the US. People color eggs although the church would prefer that they only be colored red to remind us of Christ’s blood. Using onion skins as a natural dye is preferred but I saw dyes of other colors sold in the markets so it is clear that many people don’t follow that guidance.

While some may engage in an Easter egg hunt, the more popular tradition is to have “fights” with Easter eggs, hitting them against someone else’s to see whose shell will break first and the winner gets both. We were told about kids making eggs out of wood or coating their eggs with other things to make them harder to crack to improve their odds.

Candy is not as popular as an Easter treat, probably because people eat candy here on a regular basis. Nonetheless, I did see jellybeans and candy similar to marshmallow peeps for sale in one store the other day so maybe another US tradition is creeping in over here. They have no “Easter Bunny” here and I was at a loss to explain why we have a holiday mascot that can’t reasonably provide colored eggs on his own.

But in keeping with the fact that Christianity is the state religion, the religious traditions were key. Last weekend, I witnessed the observation of Palm Sunday. As in the US, virtually everyone seems to go to church on Palm Sunday even if they do not regularly go. One difference, though, is that I did not see any real palms anywhere, and someone in my conversation club confirmed the obvious reason – because they don’t have palm trees here (people in the club were surprised to hear that there are palms in New York churches since we don’t have palm trees there either). Here, people brought branches from various plants to have them blessed, mostly willow branches as preferred by the church. Many vendors had set up outside of the main church so you could buy some in case you didn’t have any. The branches are then kept in the home until the following Palm Sunday.

This past Saturday, people again went to church to light candles from a common flame, similar to what I saw at Christmas. Again the vendors were set up outside the church, this time selling plastic bottles with the bottoms cut off as a shield to protect the candles from blowing out. While there was not a service in progress while I was there, I did see a lot of people going to the altar to kiss an icon there. While women often wear a scarf or head coverings of some sort in church, it is not mandatory and the younger women seem to follow that tradition less than older women do. To visit the altar that day, however, all women had to have their head covered and someone was there to make sure that was adhered to. Temporary ones were provided to those without and I even saw two women sharing a longer one. Men did not need to have their heads covered but the women substantially outnumbered the men in the time I was there.

Both times were solemn affairs, but I did notice, as often before, people taking cel phone calls in the church.

I did not go to a church on Easter itself but did attend an Easter meal. A few weeks back, some of my fellow volunteers happened to meet a relative of Gyumri’s mayor (his brother’s daughter-in-law to be exact) and she invited all of us to lunch. It had many of the characteristics of other celebratory meals I had been to (lots of food, freely pouring wine, scotch, vodka and brandy). Traditional Easter dishes were served (rice with raisins, a salad made of potatoes, beets and cream, Armenian pastries, fresh and dried fruits, nuts). Toasts were made to the United States, to Holland (a pair of Dutch tourists cycling through Armenia had joined us), friendship between our nations and other things.

My lunch companions and host

We had also been told to bring pots with us to take home some food that was to be cooked for Easter. While I did not get a potful of my own, I sort of inherited a pot of soup that a fellow volunteer did get and would not be able to eat since she was to be out of town. Leaving the house, we saw a pair of sheep’s heads lying on the lawn, so I think I have a pot of sheep khash in my refrigerator now (see my earlier post about cow khash). Yum.

While Easter is normally a joyful holiday in Armenia (including a text message I got from the main Armenian church – imagine getting a text from the Vatican and you get the idea), as I noted above it was also Martyr’s Day, the day of remembrance for victims of the Armenian Genocide. It marks the day in 1915, when Armenian leaders, writers, thinkers and professionals were rounded up, deported and killed in Constantinople (now Istanbul) under the “Young Turk” government. Meanwhile, over 5,000 of the poorest Armenians were killed in the streets and in their homes. Although numerous prior atrocities had been committed by the Turkish Government against the Armenian people, this day marks the official beginning of what is referred to as the Armenian Genocide.

To this day, the Turkish government denies the occurrence of an Armenian Genocide. And while the US Ambassador attended a memorial service, the fact that President Obama has not yet used the word “genocide” in commemorating the event is a very sore point with the Armenian people and the Armenian diaspora.

Every year on April 24, masses of people go to the genocide memorial in Yerevan to lay flowers in memory of the victims. I visited the memorial last summer and, while there are always flowers there from the people visiting on a given day, the quantity brought on the commemoration day is understandably much larger.

Tsitsernakaberd Genocide Memorial

The memorial flame and flowers last summer

April 24, 2011

But not all of the remembrance events are the same either. On April 23^rd, for the 11^th consecutive year, a youth group in Yerevan has held a torchlight procession, including the burning of a Turkish flag. The government, which has been working for some time on rapprochement with Turkey, disavowed the action, which was responded to with an Armenian flag burning in Istanbul [article here].

While rain had been in the forecast for Easter (as it has been raining most of the month) it turned out to be a beautiful day. A good day to be both happy and solemn as you wish.