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.