Herachtutsyun

I'm famous, shamous!~ Yesterday, Vramshabou asked me if I wanted to come jam with him at Hussusayin Poghota, the busiest street in Yerevan. I said I'd pop by. After I spent the afternoon depitting a dzmeruk (watermelon), I grabbed my dhol, and half of the depitted, smirnoffed, balled watermelon, and joined the the gang. I came around 7 o'clock, they were already jamming for a bit. I came in and joined the fun. 

Then the funeral procession duo (some jerk-offs with a dhol and an accordion) came two benches away from us and drowned us with their depression songs. So we went further ahead settled and started playing again. Some girls asked to write an article about us, (although I felt more like it was an attempt to hang out with the beautiful VramTASTIK, then to actually write an article). As dusk approached, more people were passing by and we actually started gathering a crowd of a good 20-30 people. 

A lot of people were filming and taking pictures, a couple of em even posed with us. At about 11 o'clock, I had been playing for 4 hours, and had been needing to pee for 3. So I called it quits and left the guys to their jam. It was wild and fun and I love these guys. They're all up in my biz!

Nagorno-Kharabagh

NGK is the politically-challenged, war-torn region of Armenia. It is actually not even recognized by any country to be part of Armenia. They have their own capital, their own airport, a special passport and you need a visa to access it even from Armenia. But if a kharabagi goes abroad, he holds an Armenian passport. 

This is the region I travelled to this weekend. We took an AC-less marchoutka (a van) down to the mountainous region. The 12 hour journey, though sweatingly painful, was balanced by the incredible landscape 

When we arrived in NGK at 2200, we had a full meal followed by the local attraction tut'i oghi (trans: Mulberry Vodka). This liqueur is said to affect everyone differently. Michael told me that after one shot he felt drunk already, but this 60% alcohol spirit did not phase me after the Czech absinth I was downing in Prague. So me and the boys had a couple of shots of that bad boy. 

Still, it seemed crazy that 4 shots didn't get me drunk, it didn't even make me tipsy. I thought, maybe Revan was right, and my abused body suddenly got used to the substances. But that night I had a series of absurd, surreal, Guillermo-del-Toro inspired dreams. In my latest and clearest one, I had impregnated a woman, and I could see her stomach growing at a very high-pace (like the fast motions in Planet Earth). Then, when her womb held the fully developed fetus, I could see the baby's limbs as if the woman's stomach was made of some type of latex-like fabric. Her stomach's skin than faded and the baby was floating, with his back against the woman's closed up stomach. The background was a very dark –almost black shade of blue. Her stomach and the aura of the baby was blue, with what seemed to be cloud-like scarf around him.  The woman started floating, with the baby still floating against her stomach and they were going somewhere and then MY FUCKING ALARM went off and I lost them. 

This hauntingly beautiful image is engraved in my brain for what I can only hope to be long enough to develop the skill to accurately draw what my words fail to describe. I wish I had brought back a bottle of this enchanting vodka, so they could come back to me and I to them.

Դհոլ - Dhol

So, as you're read in the previous post, I bought a dhol... It's a double headed cylindrical drum used in Armenian music. Shit, that's pretty sick right?

Well, about 2 hours after I bought this baby, I joined my home dawgs Vramshabou and Mattevos in the park to go jam. Vram always plays guitar in the park, but that day, we all got together and created a weird blues ensemble. 

Because I am just generally not a very organized person, I left my dhol's case out in the open. And passer-bys started giving us money. heheh Cause we'z hot stuff yo!!

Unfortunately, I had to go do some volunteer work I had forgotten about, but the boys kept playing, and they ended up making a little less than 7,000 Drams each!! (about 20 some dollars).  

The pic is not my own personal dhol, but it look s a lot like it. I play mine with a thick paintbrush (that I also purchased at Vernissage), a teaspoon (to bang the side of the drum) and a wine glass to create a cowbell effect (that one I stole from Marco Polo heheheh). You're supposed to play it with just your hands in the armenian tradition, but the boys are playing blues, so I had to jazz up my instrument a little to be on part. 

Վերնիսսաժ -Vernissage

I saw on Hana's blog that she bought a gooorgeous typewriter. And I got "un chti peu" envious. So when I headed down to the local flea market in downtown Yerevan, called "Vernissage" I was on the hunt. Unfortunately, I could only find one typewriter with Russian characters... the other option was Armenian... do not want. Ideally it would have French letters (the ones with the accents... BLAH)

Anywhooo, I ended up buying an old school camera from the dude instead. It's so cool. I loves it. I take it everywhere with me and am thinking Im going to fool many peoples. 

http://www.rus-camera.com/camera.php?page=zenit&camera=zenite

This is my new baby.... discontinued in 1988. 

Other stuff I bought include... euhm, A FUCKING DOHOL (I shall blog seperately about this) and a Jazzve pot to make Armenian coffee... oh and some ridiculous Armenian bracelets. 

Ambert

When my father and little sis were here, we went on many excursions. By far my favorite one was Ambert. It's a region close to Mt. Araghats (the highest point in Armenia). Lemme break it down, real quick: the reason I LOVED Ambert was because the air up there is fresh and cool. 

I came to Armenia because I wanted to escape the heat of NYC. Only to find that in July here, it's just as hot as it is in NYC. Actually, it's even hotter, just sometimes, less humid. 

The temperatures in Yerevan were just about to kill me when I went to Ambert. Then, the mountains saved me. 

Aghtchiq

        I promised a blog on Armenian women. Unlike their male counterparts, nature was particularly kind with this gender. I wouldn't say that all Armenian women are beautiful, in fact a lot of 'em are downright nasty, but damn, there are a handful of them that pass me by, and after a glance throw me back a little smile that makes me want to do things to them that I could get arrested for. 

       My first day in Yerevan, I was exploring the city with Hayk and I saw one of the most gorgeous woman ever (maybe THE most). She had straight, long, black hair flowing in the wind as she was walking. Her eyes were dark and piercing and she was lightly tanned. She was wearing heels, jeans and a black top. While most women can't seem to walk in heels, Armo chicas look like they were born with it. A six inch heel for them is like a slipper for a regular woman. She didn't just turn my head, she broke my neck. 

Later that day, I was sipping on Armenian coffee (also called turkish coffee). Then I customarily flipped my cup over and five minutes later, Hayk and I were trying to decipher my future. We couldn't gather very much from it except that there was the image of a woman's profile in the cup. I don't know if it was fate that it happened on that same day, or if it had nothing to do with my afternoon encounter, or even what it meant for my stay in Yerevan, but I took a picture of it because I knew you wouldn't believe it if I had just blogged about it. 

Last week, my Armenian teacher was busy with other students. So she had her daughter substitute for her instead. Let me tell you something about her daughter, she was probably put into my life as a test. A test of restraint, concentration, and torture. She is breathtaking. She has long, wavy light brown hair. Her face is round and her features are soft. She has one of the cutest smiles ever and a sweet teaching methodology. On top of that she has a skinny body, a small butt and big breasts that she presses up against the table when she explains Armenian grammar. Half of that class I think about her (read: fantasies), one quarter of the class is spent with my eyes lingering on her breasts and her eyes, and the last sad quarter I force myself to focus on what she is actually trying to teach me. 

She is usually just teaching one guy, chris. The other day I approached Chris asking him if he had a girlfriend. Turns out he doesn't and class has been just as hard on him as it was on me. We are both hypnotized by the same features and he unfortunately brought my attention to other enticing things about her. I told him I was going to try to get myself out of her class because I actually want to learn Armenian, and given the fact that I have no chance whatsoever with her, there is no point putting myself through that.   

Yes Hivand Em

I caught a pneumonia in Armenia. I didn't want to blog about this but yesterday Tala said it was fine to do a miserable blog. Thankfully, today, Alex accompanied me to the Hospital. He's a funny little man, that hayastanci! He always talks very fast and moves kind of restlessly. Which is obviously a promise for comedy. 

Some five minutes after I convinced him to enter the doctor's office with me, she asked him to leave because she was going to check my lungs and he immediately left even though she just lifted my shirt. I was like "wow, wow, wow... this is not Taliban, in a week we're going to Lake Sevan together, you will see me in a bikini... if you can't handle my back, are you going to have a stroke at Sevan?" 

So when they put the ivy in my arm he stayed and talked to me, always making faces behind the doctor's back. I got really agressive towards the whole staff today because I am starting to feel like they are prolonging the treatment just for financial reasons (and my resources are running out). So when they asked him to be quiet I FLIPPED and was like "Yesterday, when the brat came in crying next to me, you didn't do shit, and now he has to be quiet? He will talk as loud as he wants!"

(that kid was lucky I was attached to the Ivy... he was crying for 30 minutes... I wanted to break his neck).

Then Alex, who was just being his restless self, tripped over the ivy (but he didn't disconnect anything) and he was so embarrassed and the nurse scolded him about it meanwhile I was laughing hysterically which turned into an incontrollable cough... but however (as Alex would say)

He actually made the experience more bearable. So yeah... a big thank you to Alex who has been driving me to the hospital several times, and doing everything he can to make me get well... calling the doctor all the time. And thank you to everyone else, who's been calling, txting, msging and just being overall a great support. Let's kick this pneumonia in the BALLS!

Օպերա (the Opera)

loursanekar

  The view from the Cascade and Mount Ararat.

Paikar, Paikar Vinch'u verch!

Last friday, I went to the protests against current president Serj Sargissian. Despite everyone's advice not to go (US embassy, every other embassy, internship advisors, locals, roomates... you catch the drift.) I do not regret going for a single second (maybe because I wasn't shot or thrown in jail). But I don't think I would've regretted it either way. 

When I got there, there was already a massive amount of people (an estimated 200 000 people). The whole crowd was screaming "Levon" (the former president they endorse, who was speaking at the event). They were chanting political slogans (like the title of my post which means "struggle struggle till the end") in unison which was resonating in my gut. I had chills going through my entire body from beginning to end and I was about to cry overwhelmed by the novelty of the situation.

I remember thinking... holy shit... I am witnessing a historical moment. This is going to be reported on, written about, analyzed, scrutinized and I was there. When people will talk to me about it I will be able to say "I was there."

Shnoravor!

Soooooo yesterday my b-b-b-b-b-b-b-birthday. I really didn't want to make a big deal out of it because I didn't think I could expect much from an Armenian celebration... or rather I didn't know what to expect.
It wasn't until noon, when Tsoline found out through facebook that it was my birthday. Then the word was out and I got a text from Vram and Ara. It was a normal day up until my Armenian class was over and I got a call from Alex who was coming to pick me up. Hayk was still performing his concert so Alex and I waited for him at a coffee place near the Opera. It was really nice and we spoke a lot about Prague which made me kinda sad after cause I still miss it a lot but then he MADE MY DAY with a personal annectode from his first moments in Prague. Apparently, he was walking in an ally late at night and and a black drug dealer asked came up to him and said "Marijuana?" and he turned with a frightened look asking "Madonna?" he thought the guy was a priest or something.... Poor Alex had no idea what weed was!

Shtapir, Genatzenq

I put my alarm clock at 9:15 today. Despite getting up at 8:30 on my own. I went back to sleep until my alarm went off, then went to sleep again until Tsoline walked in the room to tell Aline her mother was on the phone. I wasn't rushed today because I was supposed to interview the Belgian Hunger striker I missed yesterday night before heading to work. So I easily got ready, then had breakfast, then prepared lunch, brushed up and left.

I went to North Avenue, the brand new, centrally located avenue of Yerevan in search of my Belgian Human Rights activist. I was done with the interview around 12, when I went to work. When I arrived, Julia –my editor– asked me when I could be done with the story. Thinking about political context and such, I predicted I would not be done by the end of the day. She started negotiating. After a minute, she got what she wanted. 

So I sat down at a computer and started transcribing the interview. I printed the french transcription and started writing the article in English. Surprisingly, even though I've only been in the country for 3 days, and have no political background, I managed to get informed enough to get political and global historical context. Granted it was a 600 word story (it's for the web, they have a 600 word limit.), but I am usually so slow.

The reason it had to be done today was for it to get published on Friday. (yes tala... btw... people are starting to think you're a religious jew with all the msg u leave on my wall about Friday). ArmeniaNow.com is a weekly that is published every friday. I love the fact that I landed on Sunday, filed my story on Wednesday and will have it published by Friday (it sounds like a Craig David song from the past). Also, I didn't fall asleep at work anymore... (I attribute that to the extra hour I got this morning... and the mid-day strong cup of Armenian coffee maybe). 

Lav Achratel

            I went to my internship at National Geographic today. We talked a bit about the kind of article I would be writing. I’m really exited but kind of stressed to find something worthy of NG traveler.

            I left at one saying Vram needed to show me where Birthright Armenia was, which was true in parts because he did call, but I was leaving to get lunch with my Aline and Tsoline, my lovely roommates, at the Mariott. I was so exhausted I almost passed out on my food. No, Seriously.

            Then I went back to my place and plug the fan next to my bed and took a niiiice long nap and worked a little to get my bombin’ articles out of the way in order to fully dedicate my time to NG and ArmeniaNow. Then I took another nap (I dunno what’s wrong with me… it’s the heat!)

            I left my apartment at midnight to try to get an interview with a Belgian hunger striker (my editor at ArmeniaNow.com wants the story on this expat who doesn’t speak Armenian or Russian and that no one but MOI can interview). But after a failed attempt, because the poor starved man was sleeping, I got a Kilikia piva (Beer) and walked back on Mashtots Prospekt thinking, “Damn, I live in Yerevan.”

Achratum em

        I had no time to eat breakfast this morning. I picked up 3 bananas and left the apartment in my black jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt. WawaWIWA it was HOT! So at one I started getting really hungry and falling asleep at my desk because I only got 3 hours of sleep. I was trying to hide it, I didn’t want people seeing me fall asleep on my first day, lah! Anyways I failed miserably. But the cute receptionist who always smiles at me kept coming by my desk and asking me how I felt. Damn, if this wasn’t Armenia, guys… she’d be a target. Ok, no but for realz though, wait for my blog on Armenian girls, I’ll try to post some snapshots!!

            I left work exactly 10 minutes after my editor left and literally tried to stay awake by updating my “where I’ve been app on facebook.” But guys, I was trashed!!! I couldn’t keep my eyes open. The receptionist came by and dropped a quick “having fun yet?” and I snickered (I love snickers… but that’s not what I’m talking about here).

            I went back home and literally CRASHED on my bed for 30 minutes before Hayk called me and asked me if I wanted to go visit a church then have dinner at his home a little removed from the city. I really didn’t want to but I was too tired to come up with an excuse/lie, so I said yes. Then he called me 30 minutes later to tell me he was downstairs so I got dressed in a flash and left. I walked out on Mashtots Prospekt to meet him and when he asked me again whether I wanted to go see the church now or have dinner first. Since I was up and conscious for 5 minutes already I quickly confessed that I was too tired to go visit a church (honestly, when am I NOT too tired to visit a church???!!). So the Marchoutka to his soviet apt and had dinner. His mom is a typical Armenian mama; SHE WON’T STOP FILLING MY PLATE UP! I was already too tired to eat and she didn’t listen to my perfect Armenian “Votch, Votch!”

            Hayk then insisted on teaching me some more Armenian before we took the marchoutka back home and I raided the supermarket for breakfast and lunch survival items; lavache, humus, lapis and 2 other kinds of Armenian cheese, eggs, cherries and peaches –yes I will blog about Armenian food soon. First, I need to have more of it… just not in one sitting!

First day in Hayastan- tour of Yerevan

Barev (it mean "khello")

I is just completed first day in Yerevan. I is found it very similar to former Soviet Union (bastards). They khaves a lot of big cement apartments and everything is ritten in Armenian and Russian. I khas also visited whole of Yerevan center today. I went to the place of republic and saw very biiiig fountain works at night. I liiiiike!
Hayk, my Armenian guide also showed me the Opera and the Cascade. They are both very big plain buildings that reminded me of photos of North Korea. I felt bad when both Hayk and Vram asked me if Yerevan looked like Europe and I very blatently said "no."

Departure time -3 hours

I've been surfing the net for more information on Armenia and Yerevan in order to form a vague expectation of my near-future home base. Unfortunately, the internet does not have much to say about what one can look forward to in Armenia lest for churches and museums (BO-RING). I'm quite sure –or at least I am trying to reassure myself- that there is more to Yerevan than just a handful of churches. I is heard a lot about greeaaat Russian Prostitutes... WAwawiwa! For realz though, I read a government warning from the american embassy that if you're staying at a hotel, your room might be bugged and your phone, tapped!! Eerr, wasn't this practice heavily used in Moscow and East Berlin during the Cold War??!!! (ps: it's a rhetorical question, I KNOW it was a practice used during the Cold War...) I'm not staying at a hotel though, but I won't be discussing local politics with anyone in my apartment, that's for sure!

Otherwise, the weather will be nice until end of June, staying in the mid-to high-20's. Then in July and August, the temperatures may reach a maximum of 35 degrees Celsius (let's hope it doesn't get to that... y'all know how I do badly in the heat.) 

So yeah... Hot Temperatures + Armenian version of the Patriot Act = Tatiana going psycho!!! Argh, what the hell... if I end up in a Hayastanii jail cell, at least I'll have an original topic and a great deal of time to write a book!

Pre-Arrival Hayeren

I finally caved. I'm learning minimal Armenian in order to avoid being totally lost in Armenia. You will be happy to know I already know how to greet people and introduce myself. 

That's not even going to get me past the passport control. 

But, I have noticed that a lot of vocabulary of Eastern Armenian - because, to make matters worse, Western Armenian (spoken among the diaspora) is different than Eastern Armenian (spoken in Armenia), is similar to Czech. Here's one example: "Most" in Armenian, also means "Bridge." Damn, I'm practically fluent! I should probably devote a bit more of my time to the study of this language, especially in basic survival areas such as food. mmm I hear they have great food. How muuuuch?