Bulgaria, Champagne Bucket trips, Eastern Europe, short breaks

Bulgaria beckons after 28 years…

Featured photo is an aerial view of Sofia, Bulgaria, as we approached courtesy of our Lufthansa flight…

It’s time, once again, for me to write a series about our latest travel adventures. This past trip was short, but very meaningful to me. We visited Sofia, Bulgaria, a place that has stuck in my memories since my first visit, back in 1996. Now… to be frank, it was never my life’s ambition to visit Bulgaria.

As I have explained in other blog posts, I initially visited Bulgaria in 1996, because I was accompanying my friend and Peace Corps colleague, Elaine, on a vacation to Turkey and Bulgaria. I actually had no money for a vacation, so Elaine was kind enough to lend me some cash so I could go with her on our big trip. We traveled via bus from Armenia, which made for big adventures, lots of exhaustion, and many memories that will never be lost.

Armenia was not, and is still not, the easiest country to travel from by land, especially for Americans. The country is surrounded by enemies of Armenia or the United States. In the 90s, flying out of Yerevan was very expensive, kind of scary, and inconvenient. So, as someone who was broke and not particularly travel savvy in the 90s, my choices were pretty limited. In the 90s, lot of us Armenia Peace Corps Volunteers did go to Turkey and Bulgaria. I don’t know if that’s still true today. Today’s Volunteers have more choices when it comes to transportation than we did.

When I went to Bulgaria in 1996, I had just turned 24 years old, and the Iron Curtain had only very recently fallen. Consequently, Sofia was still very “Eastern bloc”. I remember it as “nicer” than Yerevan was, in terms of how the city looked and what was available. Bulgaria wasn’t part of the Soviet Union, after all. But it was still very much emerging from communism, and I don’t remember a lot of businesses or English speakers. I also remember that it was common to see people nodding to say “no”, and shaking their head to say “yes”. While I’m sure this is still a thing in Bulgaria, especially in the countryside, I didn’t see it during this trip as I did in 1996.

In 1996, there was only ONE McDonald’s in Sofia. It was in the center of the city. I used it as a landmark when I took a taxi from some remote part of the city where I’d wandered. The cab driver didn’t speak English, and I don’t speak Bulgarian, but by God, we knew McDonald’s, and that was a good place to meet the guy who was hosting us. Today, that trick wouldn’t work, as Sofia is now littered with McDonald’s restaurants. However, I noticed that almost everyone we spoke to spoke almost perfect English!

Bill went to Sofia in 2008, but he was there for an Army function. Because he was working, he didn’t have much time to check out the city. He brought home an Orthodox icon, which was coupled with the painting I bought on my one trip to Sofia in 1996. Bill said he noticed things were different this visit, too, although maybe the difference wasn’t as striking to him as it was for me.

How did we decide to visit Sofia? It was courtesy of our trusty champagne bucket, which we use when we can’t decide on where to go. This time, we took cities that were offered by Lufthansa’s “surprise flights” option, similar to Eurowings’ (formerly Germanwings) “blind booking” idea, which we’ve done several times.

Instead of booking a surprise flight, and risking weird flight times that would make it hard to board Noyzi reasonably, we just put the city names in the bucket. Initially, Bill drew Dubrovnik, a place I would love to see someday. However, in June, we figured it would be completely overrun with tourists such as ourselves. When Bill made a second draw, Sofia won. So we went to Sofia, from June 7-11. Now, I’m going to write about what happened. I hope you’ll follow along. This series will probably be a short one, since we were only there for a few days, and I spent one of them in bed. More on that later.

Although most of my photos from my Peace Corps days are in storage, I do have a few from that time, including some from Bulgaria. I will try to remember to share them in the coming posts, so readers might get a view of how things have changed… Stay tuned.

Champagne Bucket trips

Ten things I learned this time in Armenia!

Now that I’ve finished writing my blog series on visiting Armenia again, twenty-six years after I finished my Peace Corps service there, it’s time for my obligatory “ten things I learned” post. I like creating these posts because they make me think, and because they’re a lot of fun to write. Also, readers seem to like them, because they’re comprehensive, yet concise. Or, they are as concise as I tend to be, anyway. Brevity is not one of my strong suits.

Armenia has changed a lot since 1997. Even though I spent 27 months there, I still learned new things during our trip. So here goes with ten things I learned in Armenia!

*Lights! Unheard of and unseen in the 90s!*

10. Yerevan is now a city that doesn’t sleep!

When I lived in Yerevan, things didn’t necessarily stay open all night. There was an energy crisis. Even though it technically ended in 1995, not everyone had 24 hour power until about 1996. So, even though flights would leave and arrive in the wee hours of the mornings, things did close at night. Now, I notice that restaurants and bars stay open very late. You can buy a SIM card 24 hours a day. And there are always lights on at night. That wasn’t how it was when I lived there.

*Two different versions of 1000 dram notes…*

9. The drams have changed twice since I left!

Armenian drams were introduced in 1993, just after the fall of the Soviet Union. Since I arrived in 1995, I was used to the first version of Armenian drams. Now, the drams have changed their look and denominations twice since I left in 1997. When I left, the biggest bill was 5000 drams (about $12). Now, they go up to 100,000 drams!

*Need a ride to Garni and Geghard? You can find one easily!*

8. It’s easy to find someone to drive you to Armenia’s most famous sites.

We didn’t take any of the many aspiring drivers up on their offers to take us to Armenia’s most amazing sites, but if we’d wanted to hire a driver, it would have been easy. Our hotel offered drivers for hire, and there were many of them hanging around different parts of the city. It’s no longer necessary to go to the bus station and look for a taxi, minivan, or bus to take you to Sevan or Khor Virap. Most of them have signs in English, too.

7. Speaking of English, it’s EVERYWHERE in Yerevan, now.

I saw so many signs in English. Some of them were hilariously incorrect, but just as many were hilariously witty. Obviously, there’s a movement for people to learn English, just as so many older folks had to learn Russian. I’m sure English is not required as Russian once was, but a lot of people seem to want to learn.

6. Armenia now has some really decent craft beers!

When I lived in Armenia, I used to joke about how bad the beers were from there. I had particularly salty things to say about Kotayk Beer, which when it was made in Armenia, was notoriously rough on the digestive system. Thanks to Dargett, a local craft beer company, you can find some good suds in Yerevan now. Now I wish I could get Dargett in GERMANY, a country well known for its excellent beers. That’s how good it was. You can also find real German beer in Armenia now. And not just the stuff made by InBev, which is a Belgian company that distributes a lot of mass produced beers. Naturally, if wine or fruit juice or even mineral water is your thing, you can find plenty of that, too. And wonderful brandy– the best I’ve ever had anywhere!

5. You can also get a beautiful meal in Yerevan…

When I first arrived in Armenia, there weren’t many restaurants at all. A few popped up while I was a Peace Corps Volunteer, but they tended to have plastic chairs and tables, and served pretty basic stuff. Now, you can get gourmet food in Yerevan… They have fine dining restaurants! And even if you go to a casual place, chances are good what you eat will look beautiful. That was one thing that didn’t change. There’s much more variety now, and some items are better quality, or are just plain available. In the 90s, we tended to eat what we could get, which meant whatever was in season. That no longer seems necessary.

4. Public toilets in Yerevan are now very clean and cost 100 drams to use.

I remember many times having to duck behind bushes to relieve myself, when I lived in Yerevan in the 90s. One time, when I was out with my former language teacher, we went to a porno theater so I could pee. It was actually very clean. But most public facilities in the 90s were pretty disgusting and smelled horrible. I was very pleased to find clean restrooms in most places during our recent visit. The toilet by the Opera House was sparkling clean, well stocked, and cost 100 drams (about 25 cents). Cheap!

*No longer a traditional shuka… but at least it has parking.*

3. Some historic places have changed forever…

I was sad to see that the historic landmark, the Pak Shuka on Mashtots Avenue, has become a regular supermarket. I would have liked to have taken Bill in there. Ditto for what used to be the GUM, a department store on Abovian Street, and the Hayastan Market (which had changed as I was leaving). But some things are better now. For instance, the eternal flame at Tsitsernakaberd now is a true eternal flame. They leave it burning all the time, instead of just on special occasions. And the door to the Blue Mosque is now very well marked, so you can’t miss it. When I lived in Yerevan, the door to the mosque was very plain, and easy to miss. Northern Avenue is a really nice street that makes it convenient to be a pedestrian, although who knows what happened to the people who lived in the houses that were destroyed so it could be built?

*Maybe we can go back and try visiting the Hrazdan Gorge again.*

2. Yerevan is very safe, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t creepers there.

We ran into one of them on our wedding anniversary. He was up to no good, and not very subtle about it. However, he was acting this way in broad daylight, which was strange. I don’t know what he was up to, but I didn’t get a good feeling about it. We ended up going a different way than we planned, which worked out fine, and that was the only strange incident. It was a good reminder to always be aware and keep your wits about you. That’s good advice no matter where you go.

*I bet this guy is a lot of fun to talk to… He certainly was a good singer!*

And finally, 1. Although Yerevan is now a lot more modern than it used to be, and more travel friendly, it’s still very exotic and will be quite interesting to most people… and if you can speak a few words of Armenian, it will open doors for you!

I was happy that some of my old, rusty language skills came back, and I was able to speak enough Armenian to be understood by a lot of the locals. Many of them were delighted when I spoke their language… and quite a few were shocked when it turned out I wasn’t Russian. I know they get more foreigners visiting now, but it’s still not a place that is super high on the tourism list for westerners. So I would absolutely encourage adventure seekers to come visit Armenia. I would especially encourage it now, because Armenians have so much to offer; they do need the tourism drams; and sadly, if a couple of neighboring countries have their way, Armenia might someday cease to exist. So please visit, if I’ve tempted you. You will be very warmly welcomed by most! And be sure to tip 10 percent!

I want to offer special thanks to Stepan, my former student and current friend. He made us feel like FAMILY… and was so kind, welcoming, and generous. Stepan, you made this trip unforgettable, and you showed us the warmth and hospitality that Armenia is known for. It was a vacation like no other, and I will always be so grateful for all you did to make it so. So շատ շնորհակալություն! I hope we can come back again… much sooner than 26 years from now!

art, Champagne Bucket trips

The last full day in Hayastan… part ten of our Armenian adventure!

Saturday, November 18th was our last full day in Armenia. I had some mixed emotions about it. On one hand, we’d had a really good time in Armenia, and there are still some things I want to show Bill. The weather was surprisingly mild; we had several nice, sunny days, and I had a feeling Germany wouldn’t be quite as temperate.

But, on the other hand, I was really missing our street dog, Noyzi. Yerevan has all these sweet, adorable street dogs, now. Unlike many of the ones I remembered from the 90s, the ones who are now in Yerevan seem gentle and wise. They made me miss our dog from Kosovo, and reminded me that I want another one. I also wanted to do laundry. It’s not that I enjoy doing laundry. I just like wearing clean clothes, and I was running out of clean underwear. 😉

I was still a bit sore and tired from our long walk to Tsitsernakaberd. And Bill was still very worried about the paintings we bought from the guy from Ashtarak. He had done some research and found an art supplies store at the Rossia Mall near the Zorovar Andranik metro station, which was just one stop away from Republic Square. So, after breakfast, we headed that way, first stopping by the art sellers by the Opera House. I was hoping to run into the guy from Ashtarak again, because I wanted to buy his Ararat painting. I might have been inspired by the clear sight of Ararat that morning. It finally came out in full glory on our last day.

Unfortunately, the art guy wasn’t there on Saturday morning, so we headed back toward the Vernissage, cutting through Northern Avenue and Abovian Street, then using the underpass by the Republic Square metro station. I thought maybe we’d shop at the Vernissage again, especially since there were a lot more sellers there. But, as we walked, my body cried out in painful protest. I was hurting!

*A photo at a major confluence of Yerevan roads…*

With every step, I got crankier… and when we were confronted with the traffic on Khandjian Street, I got downright pissy. To get across the street safely, we had to use one of the overpasses, which required us to walk up steps, go across a bridge, and then walk down again. I did not want to walk up or down any more steps.

The overpasses, by the way, didn’t exist when I lived in Yerevan. We’d either use the underpasses, some of which were pretty awful, or we’d take our lives in our hands and dash across the street. But Yerevan now has pedestrian lights and crosswalks at most intersections, and from what I understand, people are expected to use them, or risk getting a ticket. Unfortunately, there was no easy way to cross Khandjian Street directly from the Vernissage, so we used the overpass. My old body complained the whole way, and so did my mouth. 😉

We made our way toward Zorovar Andranik, passing an amusement park and Queen Burger, a notoriously “bad” fast food place that opened in 1996. I actually remember when that place first opened. It had very new and modern looking equipment, to include fountain drink dispensers, and an actual “burger” on the roof (since removed after renovation). But I guess they couldn’t get fountain drinks in Yerevan back then, because I remember I could see through the windows that they had plastic liter bottles of Coca Cola sitting under the dispensers. The restaurant has been expanded and renovated since 1996, but it still gets pretty terrible reviews on TripAdvisor and Facebook. I have never eaten there myself, so I can’t confirm or deny the veracity of the terrible reviews. Somehow, they manage to stay in business, anyway.

Near Queen Burger is an underpass I remember well. In the 90s, it was lined with people selling stuff. There are still some people selling things in the underpass– mostly cheap purses, sunglasses, and cell phone cases. But then on the other side is the Rossia Mall, which was built in 2016. If I hadn’t been so exhausted and sore, I might have been more excited. In the 90s, the area where the mall now stands was basically a big lot where people set up stalls and sold food, booze, and various other odds and ends. I remember shopping there occasionally, when I was in that part of the city. Now, there’s a mall.

I was rapidly losing patience with Bill, who was trying to figure out which door to enter. There was a department store that was obviously not what he was looking for, then we had to climb more steps to enter the main part of the mall. It wasn’t a very big mall, and it was crowded with stores. We went up an escalator into a store that was selling a lot of luggage.

A surreal feeling came over me as I took in the scene. I was in an actual shopping mall in Yerevan! But it still wasn’t as strange to me as the sight of the water park. I still have vivid memories of people living in Yerevan who had no running water and had to leave their taps on, in the hopes that they could fill their bathtub and water bottles in the middle of the night. Now, Yerevan has an actual water park! I wonder if that means that kids stay out of the fountains in the summer, now. Probably not, since it doesn’t cost anything to play in the fountains. 😉

Finally, we found the art supply store. It was tucked in a corner, and pretty much overflowing with stuff for sale. The store’s space was small, but they had a lot of inventory. In fact, there was so much inventory that it was kind of hard to walk through there. We had to look for several minutes to find the art portfolios. A couple of women working at the store noticed us and followed, while the male cashier seemed completely disinterested. I’m not sure if they were running security, or if they were just curious about the obvious foreigners.

Bill and I ignored the gawking women, and searched through the portfolios. Bill finally found one that looked large enough to accomodate our paintings. He paid for our item and we walked out of the mall. I looked around some more for any sign of the large market that used to be there. I saw no evidence of it, but the huge apartment building that was there in 1996 was still there in all its ugly, Soviet era glory. I’ve seen that building in a lot of pictures. It really is impressive in its brutal Soviet look. We made our way to the crosswalk and I said, “If we head this way on Tigran Mets, we’ll end up at Republic Square.”

Originally, I had thought maybe we’d go to the Vernissage and look for another painting. But I was just too tired, and too testy… and my body was over all the walking. I didn’t feel like trying to converse in Armenian anymore, or explaining why I know ANY Armenian. I didn’t want to haggle with anyone, either. So we headed back, which gave me the chance to show Bill yet another major Yerevan street I used to know.

We crossed the street from the mall, and I pointed out a building that I remembered from my last weekend in Yerevan in 1997. There was a French charity called Saberatours that was bringing mail to Armenians via France. Up until a few weeks prior, we Peace Corps Volunteers had enjoyed diplomatic pouch privileges. But, as Armenia’s postal system improved, the privileges were taken away. The trouble was, I had plans to go to Europe after my service was finished, and I bought a Eurail ticket. I needed to get the ticket before I got to Europe. So I used the Saberatours service, and my Eurail ticket got to me just in the nick of time. The building where I got my ticket was historic, too. It was the government building where Aram Manukian had declared independence in May 1918.

*One last shot of Queen Burger (snicker).*

We reached Republic Square, where I noticed workers were putting up Christmas decorations. I’ve seen the huge Christmas tree they now put up in the middle of the square in photos. When I lived in Yerevan, Christmas wasn’t a big deal. They celebrated it on January 6th, rather than December 25th. New Year’s was the big holiday. Today, I’m not sure what Armenians do for Christmas. I have noticed that, like many European countries, Armenian now has Christmas markets. Those were NOT a thing in the 90s. But it seems that a lot of countries have taken Germany’s lead and offer the festive stalls selling arts, crafts, and food. Google tells me that religious Armenians still celebrate Christmas on January 6th, but maybe some people do it on the 25th, and have Santa come and all that other shit… 😉

We decided to take a short rest before venturing out again. Our room hadn’t been made up yet, even though it was afternoon. I used the time to upload photos and do some writing. Bill used it to pack, and arrange for a cab in the middle of the night. I think we were a bit tired of sightseeing.

At mid afternoon, we decided to try one last restaurant we’d noticed… Dors Craft Beer and Kitchen, which was just around the corner from Paris Hotel Yerevan. Like just about all of the other places we noticed in Yerevan, Dors Craft Beer and Kitchen was selling Dargett craft beers. That was fine with me. On our way out of the room, the housekeeper asked me in Armenian (or Russian–I don’t remember) if we’d like our room cleaned. We said sure. At that point, it didn’t matter. We’d be checking out at about 2:30 AM, anyway.

After we visited Dors Craft Beer and Kitchen, we headed back to the hotel and tried to rest before our super early departure. More on that in the next post!

Champagne Bucket trips

A LONG walk to Tsitsernakaberd… part nine of our Armenian adventure!

After our weird wedding anniversary, which was saved by amazing Armenian brandy, excellent service, live jazz, and delicious desserts, I was determined to show Bill two areas in Yerevan where I once lived. The beauty of this plan is that I lived near two major landmarks in the city, Barekamutsyun metro station, and Tsitsernakaberd, otherwise known as the Armenian Genocide Memorial. The memorial is also right next to the Sports and Concert Complex, which is a delightfully Soviet looking building. It looks a bit like a spaceship!

November 17th, 2023 was a nice morning, weatherwise. We had sunshine, and I could even see Mount Ararat trying to come out from behind the clouds. So, as we drank coffee in the rooftop restaurant, I proposed walking to Tsitsernakaberd. It really is a place that no visitor to Armenia should miss.

We could have taken a cab, or even the metro, to ease the physical burden on our bodies. But, because we had limited time left in Yerevan, and I wanted to show Bill some places along Marshall Bagramyan Avenue, we decided to walk. I knew we were going to be exhausted at the end of it… and we were. But, the journey was well worth the pain.

Below are a few shots of Ararat from the rooftop restaurant, as well as a few ads. Imagine, Tex Mex and KFC in Yerevan! Air conditioning and hot wings! Unthinkable in the 90s! And Charents– that’s a familiar name to any Peace Corps Armenia Volunteer.

The above photos, except for the ones of Ararat, were taken on Mashtots Avenue.

At last, we got to the big intersection where Marshall Bagramyan Avenue meets Mashtots and Sayat Nova Avenues. We took a short rest in the park near the Opera House, where old men smoked, drank coffee, and played Nardi (Backgammon) and Chess as they sold art. Then, I gathered up all my gumption and started walking, pointing out places of interest.

Marshall Bagramyan is a pretty important avenue in Yerevan. When I was a Peace Corps Volunteer, it was where the US Embassy was located. The Embassy had a restaurant, and I went there a few times to teach the Armenian ladies who worked there how to cook American style food. Of course, they insisted on putting their own Armenian spin on it! If I recall correctly, I think their “spins” on my recipes usually involved “matsun” (yogurt).

The Embassy also showed movies, offered a laundry service, and had a bar and a library. I spent more time there as a Volunteer than my country director would have liked, and if I could do it differently today, I think I would. However, in my defense, I mostly interacted with the Armenians who worked there. 😉 Also, we were told in training that we were allowed to go there, and we were even kind of encouraged to go. I didn’t actually do so until about halfway through training.

The US Embassy has since moved to a huge complex near the Ararat Brandy Company. Stepan told me that they had considered moving the Peace Corps office to that complex. How’s that for irony? I’m glad they didn’t do that, as now I understand that the Embassy mission must be separate from the Peace Corps mission. I didn’t understand that in the 90s, because I was 23 years old and didn’t know anything about the world. 😉 I know better at age 51. Yerevan was a very different place in the 90s, though, and there weren’t many Americans in the country then. And when you live abroad, especially in a place where conditions can be rough, you tend to flock with your own kind.

Marshall Bagramyan Avenue is also where a number of other embassies are, or once were located. It’s where the Armenian Parliament building is, the Armenian President’s residence, the turn off for Proshyan Street (which we used to call Khorovatz Street) and where the American University of Armenia is. The Marshall Bagramyan metro stop is there, as well as the turn off to Orbeli Brothers Street. I used to walk up and down Marshall Bagramyan Avenue all the time, especially to visit AUA, where I would check email in their computer lab. As for Proshyan Street, we called it “Khorovatz Street” because there were a lot of khorovatz restaurants there in the 90s. I never ate there, though, because I never had money or an Armenian boyfriend. 😉

*If you’re Indian and need a place, have a look! I did notice a lot of Indians living in Yerevan now.*

At the end of Marshall Bagramyan Avenue, you reach the Barekamutsyun (բարեկամություն friendship) Metro station. When I first got to Yerevan, this station was also called дружба (Druzhba). The canned announcements on the metro were done in Armenian and Russian, and they used both names for the station. The signage in the metro stations were also in Russian and Armenian. Soon after my arrival, they took down the Russian signage and stopped announcing in Russian. I noticed during last week’s trip that a lot of signs around Yerevan were in English and Armenian, with only a few in Russian. We didn’t ride the metro last week, so I don’t know if they’re now doing announcements in English, or if it’s just in Armenian. However, I can probably still recite verbatim the Armenian announcements on the metro!

*That was the Hayastan Market. When I lived near there, it was easier to get a photo…*

I used to live in a building on Kasyan Street, which connects to the underground shopping area and underpass that leads to the metro station. Since I left there, they’ve put in an overpass, which Stepan says is a vast improvement. Before the overpass was built, people would get confused at the intersection, because there was traffic coming from all directions. Barekamutsyun is a busy area, and not particularly attractive. But I liked living there, as it was convenient to good shopping and not too far from my school. My apartment was owned by the Peace Corps doctor’s brother, who had moved to Ukraine. He decided to sell the apartment during the late summer of 1996, so I had to move.

Just across Kochar Street, which is the street I walked on to get to school, there was the Hayastan Market, which was kind of like a shuka (market). Now, it’s a grocery store. It was actually turned into one before I left in 1997. I used to go there all the time for powdered milk, flour, and sugar. 😉 My first year, we couldn’t get fresh milk, so I learned to tolerate the powdered kind (yuck).

*An Armenian billboard on Kievyan Street.*

We turned left on Kievyan Street, which would take us to the memorial and the last area where I lived when I was a Peace Corps Volunteer. Kievyan Street lasts until you cross the Kievyan Bridge, which overlooks the Hrazdan Gorge. Then, on the other side of the bridge, you’re on Leningradian Street, which is the street I lived on for the last nine months or so of my service.

That apartment was owned by a former Peace Corps employee who had gone to Hungary to study. Although it wasn’t as convenient as the last apartment was, I paid twice as much to live there. It was still a lot less than a US apartment would have been, but it was a lot of money for me. So, I continued teaching business English at American non-governmental organizations for rent money. Technically, we weren’t supposed to do that (and I wasn’t the only one), but it was the only way to cover rent costs without starving.

When it was time to close my service, that former Peace Corps employee accused me of not paying her father for a month I lived there. Of course it wasn’t true, and I was fucking PISSED that she made that accusation. I was even more PISSED that she and her dad ambushed me one Friday night when I was out with friends. They had let themselves into the apartment and were in there waiting for me, smoking cigarettes, when I returned there at 10 o’clock at night.

For about a week before that confrontation, my former landlady and her son would let themselves into the apartment to get some of their things… and they helped themselves to my food, while leaving dirty dishes for me to clean up. I had a full on panic attack in front of my former landlady and her dad, which made them uncomfortable enough to get them to leave. I think she thought she could shake me down for an extra month’s rent, but she made me so very angry that I went on the warpath. And when I handed over the keys to her apartment, I had Peace Corps representatives there to make sure they didn’t try to rip me off for another month’s rent.

I have mentioned a few times in this blog and my main one that I was angry and burned out at the end of my service. This situation is one of the reasons why I was so angry. This woman knew what the Peace Corps’ mission was, and I think she knew very well that her father had been paid for every month I was in that apartment. She was also getting much more money for that place than any Armenian would have ever paid. She actually accused me of spending the money I had earned for rent money… (how did I know that her dad hadn’t spent the money?) Naturally, I was very hurt and offended… but she mistook my sensitivity and quickness to cry for weakness. She fucked around and found out… which makes me kind of proud of myself. Years later, I found that same resolve not to be screwed over by our former German landlady, who made the same mistake and tried the same shit with Bill and me. That time, we sued… and we won!

Sorry… I really don’t mean to be negative, but I did write at the beginning of this serious I was going to be honest. And thinking about that situation still really pisses me off, because it’s a bad memory that developed at a time when I should have been feeling very accomplished. I had made it through 27 tough months, and I should have been elated and focused on success and plans for the future. Instead, I felt like someone was trying very hard to take advantage of me and paint me as a person I am definitely not. Moreover, it was hard to fathom that someone who had worked for an organization that was dedicated to doing good things in her country wanted me to leave with bad memories. And this was all over a lousy $100 (which was a lot of money to Armenians at the time– and too much rent for her apartment)!

I don’t cry much at all anymore. I noticed that after I took antidepressants, I no longer felt the need. But when I was in the Peace Corps, I cried a lot… Some people think that people who cry easily are wimps or pushovers. Well, that was never true in my case, and if you cross my red line, you will soon find out how strong and resolved I can be. And she certainly did, because I was determined… and I totally went on the fucking warpath! I still get a surge of energy just thinking about that, 26 years later!

Anyway… enough about that story. That idiot doesn’t deserve any more of my precious mental energy. 😉 On with our visit to the memorial, which was very moving, even if we were pretty tired by the time we got there. I used to take a side road to get the memorial, and back in the 90s, when I was younger and fitter, I’d even go jogging in the park there. But now that I’m older and fatter, we decided to walk up the steps at the sports complex. The side road appeared to be undergoing construction. Below are some scenes from the walk up the steps and the park at the memorial. Bill and I were both delighted to find a զուգարան (zugaran– toilet– one of my favorite Armenian words) up there. It even had toilet paper!

It turned out the Georgian Minister of Defense was going to be visiting the memorial on the 17th, so there were a lot of police there. There was also a military band, and a group of soldiers with rifles. Bill was fascinated, of course. Meanwhile, I went into the memorial, which was so moving. A woman was cleaning the memorial, with its eternal flame. Some people had left bouquets. When I lived in Yerevan in the 90s, the flame was only lit on special occasions, such as Genocide Memorial Day, on April 24th. Today, it burns constantly, and there’s beautiful music piped in. I felt a lump in my throat as I took it all in.

Half a minute at the memorial…

After we visited the memorial and gawked at the soldiers and musicians, we started the long walk back to our hotel. By the time we reached Tsitsernakaberd, we’d already done about four miles. But we got a second wind, and headed back down the hill, across the bridge, and into cheap Armenian culinary heaven…

On our way to the memorial, I had noticed a group of Armenian restaurants just on the other side of the bridge. One restaurant, in particular, smelled really good, and experience has taught me that when a restaurant smells good, one should pay a visit. So we did. The place we went was kind of a “fast food” place of sorts. They had table service, but the food was cheap and quick. Bill and I both had delicious shawarmas with Coca Cola… It cost about 3 euros each for these huge “wraps”. I couldn’t even finish mine. I remembered having similar lavash wraps when I lived in Yerevan as a Volunteer, but I don’t think they were called shawarmas. They were also even cheaper. I think I paid about 200-300 drams back then– (50-75 cents).

*A happy man… I have to admit, it was really good!*

After we ate, we got back to our long walk. I decided on a slight shortcut on Orbeli Brothers Street, which cut out Barekamutsyun and put us on Marshall Bagramyan Avenue. I remember using that street in 1997, and at that time, I think it was where the Russian Embassy was. I remember the flags and the stern signage with lots of exclamation points. But the embassy has since moved, even though I did notice some stern Russian signage. We passed a high school, which didn’t really exist in the 90s. Most schools handled all levels, which only went to “tenth form”. Now they go to 12th grade.

We kept walking, even though we were tired and sore. My Apple Watch was going crazy with all the unusual activity! Below are a few photos I took along the way, including signs from the Moldovan Embassy and a medical clinic that is now well advertised. It was probably there in the 90s, but I don’t remember it.

By the time we got back to the hotel, we’d walked over eight miles! Luckily, we had the bottle of wine the food and beverage manager sent to us to help kill the pain until dinner in the hotel restaurant. And when we arrived there at 7 o’clock, Narek, the awesome waiter who had served us the night before, was ready to help us enjoy a great evening of live Latin styled music and more wine… of course! Armenia is a wonderful place to be if you love music.

It may be a good thing we didn’t go to the rooftop restaurant for dinner earlier. Otherwise, I might not have gone anywhere else. It was never crowded; the food was good; and the music was wonderful. I’d book this hotel again just for the live music in the restaurant. It was awesome!

A sample of the live music!

After dinner, we were understandably tired, so we headed back to the room and went to bed. The next day, Saturday the 18th, would be our last day in Yerevan. Stay tuned to my next post for the story of that last day…

Armenian products, Champagne Bucket trips

Visiting the Peace Corps Armenia office after 26 years… part six of our Armenian adventure!

One thing I knew I had to do while we were in Yerevan was stop by the Peace Corps office. I’m a member of a Peace Corps Armenia “reunion” group on Facebook, and the social media manager for Peace Corps Armenia had asked me to stop in while we were in town. I was happy to oblige, since it was a chance to show Bill the office, as well as another part of Yerevan.

Our appointment to visit was at 11:00 AM, so we made sure we didn’t sleep in until 9. It was a little cloudy and drizzly on that Tuesday morning, but the temperature was still sort of warm, especially for November. Nevertheless, I was determined to wear something kind of slimming, because I knew there would be pictures taken. 😉

After breakfast, we set off for the Peace Corps office. For some reason, it seemed further away from Republic Square than I remembered it to be. I used to walk straight down Nalbandyan Street and, once I got to the end, hang a right and walk for about fifteen minutes or so. But as we were heading down the street, I decided to turn right much sooner, which took us through some less familiar neighborhoods. It’s pretty hard for me to get lost in Yerevan, though, because I know the city is basically a big grid, and there are a series of different streets that run into each other and form a circle… or maybe an oval.

*I didn’t look at this map until we got home to Germany!*

We ended up on Sayat Nova Avenue, which is not the street I usually took when I lived in Yerevan. I remember looking up at seeing what was obviously a toy store that ripped off Toys ‘R Us. They even had a giraffe mascot! As soon as my confusion cleared and we got reoriented, we were preparing to cross the street to Charents Street, which is where the Peace Corps office has been for the last 30 years or so. I looked up and noticed an obvious American man with a boy with him. I heard him speaking to the child and said to Bill, “There’s one of our fellow Americans.” I actually didn’t see very many Americans at all in Yerevan, although obviously there are more there now than there were when I lived there.

At last, we reached the Peace Corps office…. but how it had changed! First of all, there’s a guard station now. In my day, the office had a front yard and maybe a gate that you could open to walk in or out on your own. There was no guard station, and no need to sign in or out, or wear a badge. But now, you have to sign in and wear a badge. I think there was also a metal detector. It was just like visiting the US Embassy, when it was located on Marshall Bagramyan Avenue (it has since moved– more on that in a later post). Stepan came to meet us, and we walked inside…

When I was a Volunteer, walking into the Peace Corps office was kind of like walking into someone’s house. There was a lobby, and a secretary named Lola sat at a desk there. To the left, there were French doors, and that was where the country director’s office was. On the far wall, at least during my first year, there were mailboxes for the Volunteers, and a couch and phone. A stairway led to the offices upstairs. Our mailboxes were eventually moved up there. There was a bathroom at the bottom of the steps, and during my second year, there was a hallway that led to the very small office for the Peace Corps Medical Officer, who was American. An Armenian doctor named Dr. Anna was the assistant PCMO. She was also my landlady for a year.

In 2023, the whole building looks completely different. There’s fluorescent lighting, and the foyer has a desk next to a graphic display that looks influenced by the Internet. The upstairs consists of many offices. It looked like everyone had their own space, complete with a door that could be closed, and the odd beanbag chair.

I met the staff, who were very friendly and gracious, and I told them a bit about my time as a Volunteer during the literal “dark ages”, when the energy crisis was happening. I admitted freely that I had a difficult time, and I wondered if I’d made a difference. And then I told everyone that now I knew that I HAD made a difference.

I met the country director, a delightful Aussie named Joanne who is a graduate of American University’s School of International Service program. I am not an AU alum, but my husband Bill is, and he majored in International Relations nine years earlier than Joanne did. Everyone was so kind, attentive, and patient, as I went off about how things were, and how they appear to be today.

I also met the security director, who had one of the kindest faces I think I’ve ever seen, outside of Bill’s. He showed me where today’s Volunteers are serving. Sadly, because of the conflict with Azerbaijan and other concerns, such as environmental pollution and proximity to Metsamor (the nuclear power plant that reopened in 1996), Volunteers are more limited in where they can serve today. But then, right now, there are only 17 Volunteers. The group that is working now is the first to come back after the pandemic. The security director gave me a big, warm, sincere hug, and thanked me for my service. It made my heart swell. What a nice man!

I enjoyed meeting Hermine, the social media director. She was so sweet, as she saw me struggle with my purse, overloaded with assorted junk and too many electronics. She held it for me while I toured the rest of the office. It was at about this time that we learned that the American man we passed was none other than Mike Johnson, who had been a Volunteer in the group that came after mine. He ended up serving in Ukraine after a few months in Armenia, due to an unfortunate New Year’s Eve incident. Now he’s back in Armenia, working with the Peace Corps. We didn’t recognize each other. I did remember him, but I doubt he’d remember me.

*Bill stands outside the Peace Corps Armenia gate.*

I was extremely impressed by the medical facility, which has an actual “sick bay”, complete with a hospital bed, an in house lab, and a proper exam room. It’s a huge upgrade from what we had when I was a Volunteer. Naira, the Peace Corps doctor, was there; we met her at the airport when we arrived. She was telling me all about what they have now, and we were talking about how we both have master’s degrees in public health. She said Dr. Anna still occasionally works at the office, when they need a back up doctor. There is also an assistant doctor who wasn’t there when I visited. The whole medical staff is Armenian.

Then I got to see the Volunteer lounge. WOW! It’s in a separate building, and there’s a very nice library of books, a television complete with Netflix, and a shower! They also have lockers and computers for the Volunteers to use. In my day, we did have a library, located next to what was then the medical office. I remember one of my colleagues spent her final summer in Yerevan organizing it.

*I’ve literally left my mark on Armenia!*

*A close up of the German Embassy in Yerevan.*

After the tour and introductions, I was invited to put my handprints on the side of the building where the lounge is. Stepan said it was his idea to put up a mural, and now any returned Volunteers who visit are encouraged to leave their mark on the building. At this point, there are only a few handprints. I’m honored that mine are among them. There was also a very nice social media post shared about my visit… And I’m quite pleased that I don’t look like Ziggy in the photos!

After we visited the Peace Corps office, Stepan suggested that we go across the street to have lunch at the very same restaurant where he met Ashot, the guy who gave us pastries the day before! So off we went, and Stepan joked about crossing the street the “safe” way, as opposed to the Armenian way. By this, he meant we’d use the underpass, rather than taking our lives in our hands and dashing across the street like maniacs. Once again, I’m pleased to report that underpass was in fairly decent condition.

*Dargett beer… it’s THE craft beer in Armenia, now.*

The restaurant we visited was called Charentsi 28, and it had really good food. I had falafel, while Bill had shawarma and Stepan had chicken skewers. They were lucky enough to have Armenia’s yummy “tapakats kartophil” (fried potatoes). It’s probably a good thing I never learned the secret of making those… We finished with coffee and delicious orange cake, which we split among us.

Stepan had some things he had to do in the afternoon, so we bid each other adieu. He was going to call a cab for us, because it was sprinkling a bit, but we said it was okay to walk. I wanted to show Bill more of the city, and walking back to our hotel from the Peace Corps office offered a perfect opportunity to do that. So after a quick hug and a goodbye, Bill and I headed down Charents Street, which eventually turned into Koryun Street.

We passed Yerevan State University, which I used to walk by all the time back in the day. Little did we know that there would be a fatal explosion at Yerevan State University just a few days later. One person died, and three were injured when a fire broke out in room and caused the explosion, which the fire department later explained was caused by fluctuations in power voltages. The four people who were involved were all administrative employees at the university.

We passed the area where my host family lived. There was a lot of traffic, or I would have taken Bill across the street to have a closer look. Behind the archway, there were buildings, and my host family, who were fairly well off for the time, lived in an apartment with two stories. I lost touch with them, which is too bad. I liked my host dad. He was warm and funny, and could sing. He worked as an architect at the airport. His wife was an ear, nose, and throat doctor, although I remember that when I got diarrhea, she misunderstood my issues and thought I needed a tampon. 😀

I showed Bill Nalbandyan Street, and explained that if he was to walk down that street, he would eventually end up at Republic Square. Then I turned to the right and showed Bill the now disused funicular (cable car), which transported people from Koryun Street to the Nork district, in the hills of Yerevan, from 1967 until 2004. I remember taking that cable car once, when I attended a dental conference with the school nurse where I taught English. That was a project sponsored by one of my colleagues, who had gotten a grant from Colgate to promote oral health in Yerevan. But in 2004, there was a fatal accident when one of the cables snapped; five people died. So now, it’s basically abandoned and decaying.

*Near YSU… the overpasses are a new thing.*

We continued walking, and I pointed out where there used to be a store called Paradise. It was quite western for the mid 1990s, which doesn’t mean much. It offered what were probably considered luxury foods and beverages in those days. It’s gone now. We also went through an underpass that I used to walk through twice every day before and after our training at the Polytechnic. And we passed a bunch of kiosks… the kind that used to be all over Yerevan. I smelled something wonderful… frying piroshkis and ponchiks. I used to live on them. Ponchiks are basically like doughnuts, filled with glaze. And piroshkis were filled with mashed potatoes. SIGH… we were too from lunch full to partake. Maybe if and when we go back to Yerevan… I wish I’d gotten photos with “smellivision”.

Soon we were passing the Polytechnic, which has changed a bit since I went there for training. Back in 1995, the building was all tufa colored. Now, for some reason, they’ve painted it white. I thought it looked better before… although those cloverleafs will forever be distinctive. Right next to the Polytechnic is the Matenadaran museum, which I had been thinking maybe we’d visit. We never had the chance.

After we turned onto Mashtots Avenue, we took a short rest on a bench, then turned right onto Isahakian Street, where I used to teach business English to Armenian employees at Save the Children. I don’t think Save the Children is still working in Yerevan, but I do remember the building. There also used to be a cafe there that looked kind of like a ship. They have since revamped it and, again, drained the artificial lake that was kept full for boys wanting to swim back in the 90s.

*I don’t know if they still fill these in the summer…*

We cut past the Yeritasardakan Metro Station, walked a ways down Teryan Street, where I showed Bill where a guy named Gerard used to have a gourmet store and a restaurant called the Chicken Coop. Then we made our way to Abovian Street, and, from there, walked back to our hotel. We were pretty tired after several miles of walking, and it was kind of dark and gloomy outside. Time for some wine.

*In the 90s, I once encountered a truly horrifying toilet at Hotel Yerevan. But now it’s all fixed up and beautiful.*

We stopped at the AlcoHall store near Paris Hotel Yerevan and bought a couple of nice bottles of Armenian wine, including one that came from Artsakh. Bill wondered what would become of the winery that had produced this bottle we were going to enjoy… The Armenians who ran it were run out of Artsakh. Maybe we should have held onto it longer.

*One of Yerevan’s many sweet street dogs.*

We decided to enjoy wine and light snacks, while we watched Armenian TV. I believe we ran across a movie from the 70s that involved an Armenian man trying to win over a woman from Russia… or maybe one of the other former Soviet republics. We also watched a more recent show made in Armenia, while I updated the Peace Corps reunion group about our day.

I wrote that I told the Peace Corps staff about how there had been 32 Trainees in my group, but one of them chose not to swear in. Instead, she married her host brother. As far as I can tell, they’re still married and living in Michigan, where she’s from. I remember that particular trainee had given me a hard time in training, but then later came around after she heard me sing. The reason I remember this is because when we were doing our education practicum, she was teaching her students the song “New York, New York”, and she asked me to help her out with it, since she couldn’t sing. I’m not sure how much help I was, since I was singing with Frank Sinatra, and it wasn’t the best key for me. But I gave it my best shot.

One of my former colleagues had completely forgotten about Shannon, the Trainee who hadn’t sworn in. She thought she was the only woman who had married an Armenian. This led to her sharing the group photo of our A-3 group, in which our entire group was pictured.

A-3, circa June 1995. We’re at Garni Temple, and I am sitting in the front row, wearing the red shirt. The guy sitting to my left is Matt Jensen, who died in May 2021. I was sure to tell the current staff about what a legend he was.

Well, that about does it for today’s post. I may be back with another later… or maybe I won’t. I’ve got “eli gortz” to attend to… 😉

art, Champagne Bucket trips

Live music, art, and another familiar face… part four of our Armenian adventure!

Sunday morning, we were still a bit jet lagged. We didn’t get up until about 9:00 AM (Armenian time). That’s unheard of for us, although it was 6:00 AM in Germany. After we got dressed and I put on some makeup, we went to the rooftop restaurant and sat outside again, mainly because the sun was very intense inside the restaurant. A tall, broad shouldered, European looking Armenian waiter was very attentively maintaining our table and seemed surprised when I asked him for “shakar” (sugar).

We had plans for Sunday evening. Stepan had bought tickets to see Mexican tenor, Rolando Villazón, and harpist, Xavier de Maistre. We would meet him and his wife, Lilit, that evening. To be honest, I wasn’t that sure about the concert. I had never heard of Rolando Villazón or Xavier de Maistre, and I’ve never been particularly excited about harp music. However, I am a music lover and a singer myself, and I know Armenians have great appreciation for the arts. I had a feeling it would be a good concert, and in the interest of wanting to do something new and unique, we agreed to attend. Stepan later told me he hadn’t been sure about the concert either, since he also wasn’t familiar with the musicians.

With our evening plans set, Bill and I decided to walk around a bit. We headed down Abovian Street, which is a major Yerevan location. In the 90s, it was the place one was most likely to find shopping or a decent cafe or two. I’ve always liked Abovian Street, as even in the 90s, it was tree lined and kind of elegant. In 2023, it’s still a hot spot, with a whole lot of restaurants and hotels, including The Alexander, which Stepan says is the best hotel in Yerevan. I see it’s owned by Marriott, and is considered “luxury”. Personally, my idea of luxury is less about posh looking properties and more about good service. But it did look like a very nice hotel when we passed it.

A little ways down Abovian Street, we ran into Northern Avenue, which is a street that didn’t exist in the 1990s. Stepan told me that there were some “shabby houses” that were demolished in order to create this very posh shopping district. My mouth dropped open as I took it in… Yerevan has come a long way since 1997, but this “walkplatz” is all new construction that definitely doesn’t match the many Soviet era buildings that are still in Yerevan. I noticed that there were quite a few new buildings constructed and little by little, they were replacing the ugly, cookie cutter Soviet buildings.

I did wonder about what happened to the people who had been living in the “shabby houses” off Sayat Nova Avenue. I also wondered how much it cost to live in one of the apartments on that avenue. No doubt Northern Avenue is an address for Yerevan’s wealthiest. But it’s also very handy, as that’s where we found a place to buy new SIM cards for our phones. It also makes it quicker and easier to get to the Opera House.

VIVA-MTS is a chain in Yerevan where you can get a new SIM card and pick up any accessories you might need for your phone or computer. I actually did need a new USB-C cable for my computer, but as soon as we walked into the store, we were summoned to sit near a young woman who set us up with new SIM cards. We just had to present a passport– one was enough. I should have bought a cable while I was in there, but it slipped my mind.

We walked out of the VIVA-MTS store and continued on to the Opera House. I showed Bill where I used to go when I attended rehearsals with the Opera Choir back in the 90s. That was a rather weird situation that developed when I was a Peace Corps Volunteer. My second Peace Corps Armenian teacher, Rousanna, had once been a ballet dancer at the Opera House, and she knew people there. She declared that I had singing talent.

*Swan Lake, which as you can see, is empty. They used to keep it full of water. Now it looks like it’s permanently disused.*

In those days, I did sing opera songs a lot, because I had studied voice (for fun) in college and those were the types of songs we sang in our studio. Anyway, I met the conductor of the opera choir, whose name was Karen (in Armenia, it’s a man’s name). He said I could come to rehearsals and sing. So I did. In retrospect, maybe I shouldn’t have let Rousanna introduce me to Karen, because I think it caused some problems with the school where I was working. It wasn’t really why I’d come to Armenia, either. Rousanna insisted, and I was genuinely interested… and at 23 years old, I wasn’t all that assertive.

On the other hand, it was a golden opportunity to get involved with the arts in Yerevan, and I did end up meeting some interesting and very talented people. I learned new music, too. Maybe with a little more engagement, I might have been able to help the opera choir with some grants. I did learn a couple of new operas, thanks to that experience. I can’t say I’m sorry I worked with the opera choir in Yerevan, although I am sorry for any issues it caused at my school. But then, I usually had to “wing it” at the school, anyway. Many times, I would show up expecting to teach one class, only to be sent to a different one. So maybe it didn’t matter that much, in the long run.

During that same visit in 1995, Rousanna and I also visited the then conductor of the Armenian Philharmonic, Loris Tjeknavorian. Mr. Tjeknavorian surprised me by knowing who I was. He even knew where I lived! Back then, there weren’t many Americans in Armenia, and I stood out with my blonde hair. He knew my name was Jenny, that I sang, and that I lived in the part of Yerevan called Zeytoun (although I didn’t live there for long).

Mr. Tjeknavorian is apparently still living; he’s 86 years old and now retired from the Philharmonic. In retrospect, he might have heard about me because I was in the AUA Choir during training, and that choir had an honest to god maestro. But there wasn’t enough money for sheet music, so we were singing Christmas carols in July! We also did a few Armenian nationalist songs, and a folk song named “Im Chi Nare Yare.” I was supposed to do the solo for that song. The Philharmonic conductor might have also heard of me because of the accompanist for the AUA Choir, Anahit, who was one of the very best pianists I’ve ever met… and I’ve met quite a few. She was a graduate of the Yerevan Conservatory, and she even got me hooked up with a Russian voice teacher there, who later introduced me to her Armenian protege. Who knows? Anyway, it was an interesting experience at the time, meeting and working with real, professional musicians in Yerevan.

Today, next to the Opera House, there are a few cafes and other amusements. As we were passing, we noticed little kids driving toy cars around the grounds. There was also an electronic game with a punching bag. A couple of young lads were amusing their friends by seeing how hard they could punch. They were trying to beat the record. Although the young man who threw the punch was impressive, he fell far short of the record. I guess that’s one way to keep people pumping in drams. They pay for another chance, even though they’ll probably just hurt their hand and fall short of the goal. It was fun to watch the guy’s friends cheering him on, though. He was one of a few young guys we saw punching that bag as we passed the Opera House over the course of the week we were there.

We crossed Mashtots Avenue. On the other side of the street, there’s a tree lined park where people sell art. When I lived in Yerevan, they only did it on the weekends, but now they do it every day. I wanted to see what was available, because I wanted to buy new paintings for our house. I never had the money to buy art in Armenia when I lived there. It’s also a cool place to visit, because you’re sure to see old guys sitting around playing chess or nardi (backgammon), drinking coffee, smoking, and holding court. That was as true in 2023 as it ever was in the 90s.

There was some stuff there that was either not my taste or kind of “cheesy”. Some people had signs up requesting no photos to be taken. The funny thing is, the artists who made that request were selling art that I wouldn’t have been interested in, anyway. One guy had what looked like black velvet art, which I’ve just learned actually originated in Kashmir and usually depicted religious icons from the Caucasus region. I’m sure there are some beautiful black velvet creations, but whenever I see them, I just think of Elvis Presley.

Toward the end of our stroll through the park, I spotted some art that made me pause. The artist cautiously approached. I didn’t want to start talking to him until I’d seen everything, so we walked away. But a few minutes later, we came back and struck up a conversation. The man said he is a printer who lives in Ashtarak, a village northwest of Yerevan. I knew some Volunteers served there, and had visited there myself. I could picture where he lived.

When he asked me why I could speak Armenian, I told him about how I’d lived in Yerevan 26 years ago and taught English to kids in an Armenian school. I apologized for not being able to remember a lot of the language, but we were able to carry on a conversation. He told me his son lives in Switzerland as I admired two similar paintings he was selling. One was a church in Gyumri, Armenia’s second largest city in the northwest, and the other was a landscape of Yeghegnadzor, which is a city to the south of Yerevan. We decided to buy both paintings, which really excited the guy. He offered individual prices, but came down when we offered to buy both. I could tell he wanted me to haggle, but I hate haggling. So he kind of haggled for me, and we ended up settling on a price of about 110,000 AMD for the two paintings… Maybe an Armenian would have paid less, but I know a lot of work went into that art. And the conversation was also worth something.

Bill went to get some drams from an ATM, and I stayed and talked to the guy some more. He had a beautiful painting of Mount Ararat that was very unique. I wish I’d bought it, because I later decided I wanted a painting of the famous mountain, but most of the ones I saw were kind of representative of “bad art”, or there was nothing interesting or unique about them. Unfortunately, we didn’t run into the guy again before we left. But we did buy two very nice paintings from him, which he put in a rather well used plastic bag. This really distressed Bill, who spent the rest of the week worrying about how we were going to get the paintings home to Germany. More on that, later.

*A mural of the man whose name was used for this school…*

After we bought our paintings, we headed back to the hotel to drop them off. We walked down Mashtots, and I showed Bill some places of interest. Mashtots is one of the most important avenues in Yerevan. Back in the Soviet era, it was known as Lenin Avenue. At one end, the Matenadaran stands– it’s a museum full of some of the oldest books in the world. At the other end is the overlook to the Hrazdan Gorge. It’s where you’ll find the entrance to the Blue Mosque, the one mosque in Yerevan, and what used to be the Pak Shuka and is now, sadly, a supermarket.

After we dropped off the art, we took another walk, and I took more photos…

*The entrance to the Blue Mosque. This used to be a very plain metal door that anyone could miss!*

After all the walking, we were a bit hungry. I was a little unsure about my restaurant skills, though. I speak decent restaurant German, but I never had the ability to do the same in Armenia. We went to a place very close to our hotel, Кавказская пленница (Caucasian Captive– apparently named after a 1967 Russian film). It was a nice place that offered a lot of different options. It was also a bit campy in its decor…

Our waitress, name of Arev (sun), was surprised by my Armenian skills. Then she offered us “Khash”, to which I blurted out was “disgusting” and I didn’t like it. Amot indz (shame on me). Khash, for your information, is a very garlicky soup that is made with boiled cow or sheep parts, including the head, hooves, and stomach. It was a food historically made by poor people, who used all of the least desirable parts of an animal to make themselves a nutritious meal. I did try it once, when I was in training, even though it’s something that is usually only served during the “ber” months. Most people eat it in the morning with a lot of lavash and vodka. It’s supposedly a good hangover cure.

I ended up having chicken and fried potatoes that were absolutely delicious. Bill had some kind of stew that he loved. I don’t remember what he had… but he’s a more adventurous diner than I am.

After we ate, we went back to the hotel for a rest. We had plans to meet Stepan and Lilit at about 7:00 PM. We had purchased a couple of gifts for them, both because they were so kindly hosting us, and because it was Stepan’s birthday on the 15th. I said I thought it would be good to give them the gifts at the concert. Bill, being the consummate overthinker, worried that we wouldn’t be allowed into the concert hall with them, because they were wrapped. I had to laugh at that… He’d forgotten that the night previous, we had just walked into the school where I used to teach. I said, “Stop overthinking this. It’ll be fine.”

So we walked to the Opera House and met Stepan, then enjoyed the concert put on by Mr. Villazón and Mr. de Maistre. I found out that Rolando Villazón is my age. He was very entertaining, and I have a feeling that if we’d known each other as kids, we would have traded fart jokes. He and his wife now live in France, and my friend Susanne says he speaks excellent German and is often on German talk shows. She was impressed that we got tickets to the concert. Stepan, of course, was greeting his many friends. I swear, he knows so many people in Yerevan! More on that, later. Below are some photos…

And a video…

A short video from the concert. They got a bunch of encores! People kept trying to leave, and they came back for “just one more”. It was hilarious!

We had a wonderful time at the concert, and being exposed to the talented musicians would have made the evening special enough. But something else happened that really made our night forever memorable. During intermission, Stepan went outside to smoke a cigarette. While he was out there, he ran into his classmate and another of my former students, Sima. He told her she needed to come inside to meet someone.

Sima blurted out, “Is it Jenny?”

Stepan said yes, I was indeed in the house. Sima said she’d actually recognized me outside, but was sure it couldn’t be me, back in Yerevan after so many years. She didn’t approach me. That was probably a good thing, since I would not have recognized her. The last time I saw Sima, she was about fifteen or sixteen years old, and she had long, brown hair. She was very glamorous, and reminded me a little of a young version of the actress, Fran Drescher, who was very popular in the 90s.

Since then, Sima has cut her hair into a very short, spiky haircut, and it’s now jet black. Sima is still very beautiful and glamorous, but she looks quite different now than how I remembered her. However, she’s still very tiny, and I felt like a mama bear when I gave her a hug. I was so moved that she not only remembered me, but actually recognized me, after so many years. I seriously wanted to cry! It was more validation that my time as a Peace Corps Volunteer wasn’t a waste of time. I was finding out that what I did meant something to people besides myself. It wasn’t unlike seeing the end results of planting a seed and coming back years later to find a fruit bearing tree in its place.

After the concert, Stepan, Lilit, Bill and I went outside. We were trying to decide what to do next. Lilit wasn’t feeling well, but Stepan was still trying and succeeding in being an excellent host to us. I decided to make politely parting easy by asking Bill if he was tired. Bill, trying to be a good guest, said he was “okay”. And I said, “Do you mean it, or are you just being NICE?” Then I turned and smiled at Stepan, who laughed. He asked if I minded if he opened the gifts at home, so his kids could watch. I was fine with that, and we parted ways… after I, once again, expressed shock at all the lights on in Yerevan!

Below are a few photos from our walk back to the hotel…

*The punching bag game that amused so many of us…*

Sunday was a full day, and we were tired… so after our concert, we decided to enjoy some wine, watch a little TV, and go to bed. However, there was a lot of noise outside from traffic and a nearby nightclub, so actually falling asleep was an entirely different matter. More on that in a later post. 😉

The Traveling Overeducated Housewife

…the wanderings and ramblings of a boring housewife…

Tag Archives: Peace Corps Armenia