Sharing My Armenia

I remember on the ride from my training village to my permanent site last May, thinking about how excited I was for my parents to come visit Armenia so I could show them around. Just shy of 1 year later, it was actually happening. But even better, my best friend/former roommate from college was going to come with them. 

As most flights do here, they arrived late in the night on the first day of my school’s spring break. The next morning we had a slow start to get everyone adjusted to the time difference. It was a rainy day, but we didn’t let that stop us from exploring Yerevan. We made our way up (then down) the Cascade, past the Opera House, through Republic Square, and all the way to the covered stalls at the Vernissage. After our speed run of Yerevan’s Kentron, we paid a visit to the Peace Corps office to say hi to some staff and rest a bit in the Volunteer Lounge. We used the flip chart that had been left in the lounge after a meeting to do a mini-lesson on the Armenian alphabet and to teach my family an important phrase to use for the rest of the trip; “We are not Russian, We are American!”. Following our office visit, we ate the first of many authentic Armenian meals, which included their first tastes of khrovats, khingali, lavash, kebab, and pomegranate wine. We ended our night at my favorite brewery in Yerevan for some pints of apricot ale. 

Wednesday we had a busy day planned. I had scheduled a tour with a friend of mine that would take us to Geghard Monastery, Garni Temple, and the Symphony of Stones. The rain from the day before had cleared the skies and provided us with incredible views of Mt. Ararat on the ride out of Yerevan. Unlike when I had first visited this area last year, this year there was a light coating of snow over the mountains and hills we drove through to get to the Monastery. There we found about 7 orange and white cats that walked right up to tourists like they owned the place. I found out that the rock that I had thought was a meteor, based on my host sister’s description from the prior year, was actually just a piece of the mountain that fell down. Likely my shaky Armenian had led me to misinterpret the word for “rock.” Next up was Garni Temple. My parents of course recognized this from the Conan O’Brien Armenia special (which we would reference frequently throughout this trip). We walked around the exterior of the temple and even got to see the remains of an authentic Roman Bathhouse, complete with a nearly intact mosaic of fish and mermaids. Then we had another authentic Armenian meal for lunch at a restaurant just outside the temple. After lunch, was the part of the tour that I was most excited for as it was the site I had yet to visit, the Symphony of Stones. This is a rock formation deep in the valley beneath the temple which looks like an infinite collection of organ pipes assorted on the cliffs. Apparently, these kinds of rocks have only formed here in Armenia and in Ireland. Elise and I got a kick out of the sign which read “The stones ARE falling, beware” (Armenian has no present continuous tense which can explain this slight mistranslation). After our amazing tour (highly recommend Starling Travel Club for any future trips to Armenia!), we met up with another volunteer who was in Yerevan that evening and brought my family to our favorite Mexican restaurant. Ray, J’nae, Elise, and I were able to convince my parents to accompany us to our beloved Beatles Pub afterward for some funny-named cocktails and loud rock music. 

Thursday morning, my boyfriend and co-tour guide, Ray, left back to his site and it was my time to assume the role of lead cultural ambassador for the duration of the trip. First, we went to the Armenian Genocide Memorial and Museum. Again, we had incredible views of Mt. Ararat from up on the hill. The museum, as always, was incredibly powerful and educational. Seeing it again after spending nearly a year working with Armenian students, I found it evoked strong emotions for me. I was glad that my family learned more about Armenia and that they were seeing firsthand how resilient Armenia is even in the face of such a tragic history. On our way back to the hotel, I was excited that I got to show off by negotiating with the taxi driver. As soon as he realized I understood Armenian, he lowered the price by about 1000 dram. 

In the afternoon, we made our way to my site a bit north of Yerevan. Our first stop was my host family’s house where my host mom had prepared waffles and ice cream for us. The weekend before I had told her that my parents made waffles every Saturday when I was growing up so she decided that’s what she would serve when they visited. They met all the members of my host family as my older host sister happened to be visiting from Poland. They also met some feathery and aquatic members of our family as my younger host sister introduced them to her bird, her fish, and her turtles. My counterpart had invited us to her family’s village just outside of town for dinner. When we arrived at the village, we were immediately driven into the hills to visit two quaint chapels nestled at the base of the hill. We walked across a small bridge to see some ancient khachkars lining the entrance to a cave. Elise was excited to find lots and lots of obsidian on the ground in that area that she could add to her crystal collection. We ate dinner with my counterpart and her extended family which was my first real stint of full translating (when my counterpart wasn’t in the room). My dad made lots of toasts with my counterpart’s father and by the end of the evening they were best friends. At one point during dinner, Elise produced a piece of obsidian from her pocket to explain that she collected rocks like this and was happy to find some here. The grandmother replied that they called those rocks “Satan’s fingernails.” When I translated this to Elise, her face shifted and she apologized if she had offended them, fearing that they thought these rocks were evil. But the grandma just laughed and assured Elise it was just a nickname for the rocks and to not be scared. Throughout the dinner, my counterpart’s family tried to help my family with the pronunciation of the Armenian word for thank you (Shnorhakalootsyoon). Elise got it pretty quickly, my mom got really close, and my dad would usually make some kind of “shh” sound and then devolve into nonsense syllables. Everyone assured them that they could just say “Merci.” 

A couple of days before, I had gotten a call from my counterpart that the tree planting project we had planned was ready to go and the city administration wanted it to happen that week. So, on Friday, we made our way back to my site. Elise and my parents were able to meet some of my students from my counterpart’s homeroom class. As we were helping the kids to put the trees into the pre-dug holes and cover them with soil, my counterpart took me aside and asked me to accompany her and one of the students to the nearby city hall to present the certificates of the tree planting to the deputy mayor. I pulled Elise into the car with me so she could see as well. I told my family later that they were lucky to have seen a pretty accurate glimpse of what the life of a Peace Corps volunteer is like starting your day with a project and ending with a surprise photo with the city administrators. Once all the trees had been planted and the students had begun to lose interest and use the twigs as swords instead, it was time for us to leave to head up to Lake Sevan. 

There was still snow around the lake but it was a cool sunny afternoon. We had a large lunch of fresh fish, lavash, cheese, and salad. I had accidentally over-ordered so we ended up with a large bag of leftovers that made me quite popular with the local dogs as we wandered around Sevanavank exploring the church and admiring the view. We shared a warm circle of gata, amongst ourselves and some of the aforementioned dogs, while waiting for our taxi back. The driver who had taken us up had kindly offered to wait around for us and drive us back. That night while eating dinner at an Asian fusion wine bar near the Cascade, I got a message from another volunteer friend that she and our other two friends were also at that restaurant. Yerevan is the largest city in Armenia but at its heart, it really is a small town. After they finished their meal, we joined them for ice cream. 

Saturday was the sunniest and warmest day of the whole trip. As we walked past the Opera House that morning, we took the long way through an adjacent park filled with artists selling their work. All of it was beautiful, but we soon stumbled on an artist whose paintings captured all of our attention. His English was pretty good and he was able to explain the locations of each of his paintings. My parents bought a painting and the artist kindly threw in a drawing for free. We promised to return to buy a few more when I was able to get more cash. We made our way to the Armenian National Museum and traveled back to the Stone Age to see ancient arrowheads, the oldest shoe ever found, and faded cave drawings. Then we wandered our way through the Bronze and Iron Ages until eventually, Christianity reached Armenia. We chose to forego the National Gallery section of the museum as it was too gorgeous of a day to be wasted inside. After a brief coffee and snack (some of the best bruschetta any of us had ever had and complimentary baklava from the chef), we returned to the Vernissage to continue our shopping from the first day. Because it was a weekend, there were nearly twice as many stalls as that previous Tuesday and it was packed. I instructed my family to grab me when they found an item they liked and to let me speak in Armenian to the sellers to ensure a cheaper price. When I came over to help Elise find out the prices of some beautiful handmade tablecloths, the woman who made them told me she remembered me because my boyfriend and I had come to her stall at Christmastime and she was surprised that we spoke such good Armenian. She gave Elise a fantastic deal on a table runner and I promised her that I would bring my boyfriend back so we could all speak again. After the Vernissage, we returned to the park with the paintings to hopefully buy some more from the artist we had met that morning. Unfortunately, most of the stands of paintings had been put away for the day. However, as we were walking away we spotted the artist and asked if he could still sell us more paintings. He immediately ran after a woman who was leaving the park to get her to open the shed for him where he stored the paintings. 

That evening we had made plans to head to Marmarashen for dinner to celebrate Easter with my host family from Pre-Service Training. I was a little nervous. Up til that point, Ray or my counterpart had been with us to assist me with translating when needed. But this day, it was up to me. The sudden shift to warmer weather had stirred up strong winds that nearly knocked us over as we walked down the street to my host family’s house. My parents were amused to finally see the storks in person which I had always complained about because they freaked me out. When we arrived, the power on that side of the village had gone out. But no matter, my host mother lit some candles and we had a wonderful Easter meal. We showed my parents and Elise how to do the traditional hard-boiled egg fight (Elise’s egg was victorious) and I translated to them that my host mother had prepared everything on the table herself and that most all of the vegetables were grown in her garden. Whatever nervousness I felt melted away and I helped to facilitate my Armenian family and my American family getting to know one another. My host father told my real dad that he looked like Joe Biden which elicited a laugh from the whole table. My younger host sister arrived from church and she and Elise were able to converse with one another in French for a bit. After dinner, we got to witness another quintessential Armenian experience as I handed my phone over to my host father to yell at the taxi driver who seemed to have gotten lost en route to their house. 

Sunday was their last day in Armenia. I had purposefully kept this day free of plans so that we could fill it in with anything they had seen throughout the week that they wanted to return to. We started at the Blue Mosque and walked around its beautiful courtyard where blossoms were just starting to burst from the trees. Next, my mom and Elise wanted to buy some dried fruit to bring home as gifts so I brought them to a large open-air market. As we walked around we were handed sample after sample of dried apricots, peaches, cherries, and syrup-covered walnuts which the sellers kept telling us were “Armenian snickers.” It was another clear day so I decided that we should go to Victory Park to see the Mother Armenia statue and ride the Ferris Wheel that looked out over the city. My dad got a real kick out of the atmosphere of the amusement park, with its somewhat strange design choices and multiple defunct rides that sat there hauntingly. Elise and I rode on the pirate ship ride that I always made my friends ride with me when we visited. As usual, we were the only people on it. I instructed her to sit in the last row with me and when we reached the highest point of the swing to lift her feet off the ground and lean slightly forward to intensify the stomach-dropping feeling (a trick I had learned after multiple trips to this park). When we had had enough of the thrills and the song “Eye of the Tiger” playing on repeat over the speakers, we departed for our last dinner in Armenia. I chose Tavern Yerevan so that I could fill in the blanks of Armenian food that they had yet to try on the trip, which included dolma and adjaruli khachapuri (technically Georgian and more often referred to by us volunteers simply as egg boat!). At dinner, we all noticed we had gotten some sun throughout the weekend and our chests and scalps were tinged red. We ordered some gata to go which we ate later in the hotel room while packing and sipping on the shooters of Ararat cognac that Elise and I had bought at a grocery store to ensure she tried real Armenian cognac. 

Late that night, I called them a taxi to the airport. On the app, I could watch the little car move along its route. It wound through the streets of Yerevan and at each crossing I envisioned what they were seeing out their window. The Opera House, my favorite brewery, the parks lit up with fairy lights, the streets that I had spent the past year walking down. Sharing this place with people I loved who were experiencing it for the first time sparked a realization of how much it has become my home. While previously, I had felt insecure about my language skills compared to other volunteers, showing my family around and helping them navigate taxis, stores, and family dinners helped me realize how far I have come from that first day in my training village when the lack of English terrified me. At various points throughout the week, I was overcome with gratitude that I lived in this amazing place. As I am coming up on the halfway mark through my service, I’ve started to have my first moments of pre-grief that I will be leaving eventually. Watching my family pack the various Armenian gifts they had bought into their suitcases, I thought about everything that I am going to bring home. Obviously, some material items, (I have my heart set on a nice chessboard and an authentic rug) but all the intangible things too. I did my best to cram as many activities and experiences into 6 days as I could. But a week in Armenia is certainly not enough, and I’m beginning to think that 2 years is not enough either. So I’m already mentally planning to bring my family back to Armenia somehow after my service and I’m committing myself to soaking in every minute of my remaining 13 months. 

(I've updated my Photos page with some highlights from this trip and the past few months, so check it out!)