Those of you who regularly read this blog might know that I spent 27 months living in Yerevan, Armenia, where I served as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I was there from June 1995-August 1997, and the first half of my time there was during a severe energy crisis. Although I would be lying if I said I loved every minute of my time as an “A3” Peace Corps Volunteer (meaning I was in the third group to go there after the program started in December 1992), I am now left with lots of nostalgia. I still remember some of the language, and I have developed an appreciation for Armenian food, wine, and culture.
Last week, Facebook sent me a random ad for a restaurant in downtown Wiesbaden called La Bohème. This beautiful eatery, named for an opera by Giacomo Puccini, specializes in Armenian and Georgian food. I was excited to see that, as I had no idea that Wiesbaden had a proper Armenian restaurant. I have seen some Georgian places, but none that were really Armenian. I told Bill and about La Bohème, and today, we decided to visit.
This restaurant is located on Taunusstrasse, which runs along the perimeter of the old town. We parked our car in the Kurhaus Parkplatz, and then it was an easy and pleasant ten minute walk to the restaurant.
Wiesbaden’s hot spring!
When we walked into the restaurant, there were only two tables occupied. We took a spot by the wall, and the waiter, who spoke perfect English apologized that they only had German menus. As we’d say in Armenia, հարց չկա– (harts ch’ka, or no problem). We ordered our usual water with gas, and a lovely Georgian Mukuzani wine.
Then, we shared hummus with lavash, and xhorovatz (grilled meat). I had pork and Bill had lamb. I was very impressed by the food. It was beautifully prepared and presented. I was wondering where this place had been all my life!
This xhorovatz were outstanding! We both opted for the potatoes, and the dish came with drilled peppers and Armenian salad with pomegranate seeds.
The funny thing is, I never had hummus in Armenia. I didn’t eat in many restaurants because I couldn’t afford it, and there weren’t that many, anyway, during my time in Yerevan. By the time I left in 1997, more places were opening. Now, there are MANY good restaurants in Armenia.
After the main courses, we had dessert, but ended up taking most of it home. We were well satisfied by the Armenian dishes. Besides, the desserts were not as good as the starter and main courses were.
We finished up with a snifter of Ararat Vaspurakan 15 year old brandy for me, and an Armenian “Moka” for Bill, which just means coffee made in a moka pot. He read his future in the coffee grounds, which he said showed Western Europe. Personally, I thought they looked more like a dog.
Well, this looks more doglike from a different angle.
All told, we spent about 135 euros, and came home with leftover dessert. We both really enjoyed our visit and I think we’ll happily dine at La Bohème again. The food was excellent, and a nice change of pace. The prices were very fair. And the waiters were patient with me when I spoke Armenian. I’m better at speaking Armenian than German, although there was no need to speak either language, as they all spoke great English! Europe really does put us to shame when it comes to learning foreign languages!
Obviously, I highly recommend this restaurant. We’ll be back!
About. two weeks ago, Bill came home from work looking a bit flustered. You see, he was supposed to go to Bavaria last week, for yet another business trip. But then, at the very last minute, the trip went from four nights in Bavaria to four nights in Istanbul, Turkey (or Türkiye). And since Bill is a super good guy who knows I’d been wanting to go back to Istanbul again after a 29 year absence, he invited me to go along with him.
There was, of course, the usual catch. Since his company was paying for the hotel, we had to stay at one within a certain price range. We also had to be at a place that was in the area where Bill was going to be working, which was in the financial district of Istanbul called Maslak.
We had a choice of a few hotels and ended up at the Hilton Istanbul Maslak, which is a lot more comfortable than where I stayed the first time I went to Istanbul. However, it’s a good 13 kilometers from the old town, and the traffic in Istanbul is absolutely horrifying. They do have buses and a metro, but they’re pretty crowded. On the other hand, taking public transportation might be more expeditious than using a cab. The traffic is stupidly bad in Istanbul!
I went to Istanbul in 1996, when I had just turned 24 years old. My friend Elaine and I, having finished our first years as Peace Corps Volunteers in the Republic of Armenia, decided to visit Turkey and Bulgaria by bus. It was quite an adventure. I’ve written about that trip on more than one occasion. It was not an easy vacation, but I learned and grew a lot from it. Just getting to Istanbul by bus took three days straight, with no breaks! We had to go through Georgia to get there, and spent a very long time sitting at the Turkish border.
This trip to Istanbul, by contrast, was much easier and more luxurious. I flew business class on Turkish Airlines, while Bill was in economy (company rules). I’ve got to say, having flown Lufthansa business class a bunch of times, Turkish Airlines has got it all over Lufthansa. I’ll write more about that in the coming days.
Perhaps this visit to Türkiye didn’t require me to stretch quite as much as my trip in 1996 did! Nevertheless, I did learn some new things. So, although this series is not likely to be as full of photos as my series usually are, I think I’ve got some new things to share. I hope you’ll join me as I write up our quick jaunt to Istanbul. I didn’t do as much as I would have wanted to do, but I think now that he’s been to Turkey and seen it for himself, Bill can be persuaded to go back. I hope I can get him to visit Cappadocia. We’ll see…
Anyway, I’ll probably get cranked up with this series tomorrow. Tonight, I’ve got some chores to get done. See you then!
On Monday morning, we packed everything up in our bags and headed down to breakfast. I wanted to sit in the bar area, because they had chairs in their that better accommodated my ass. We were gently persuaded to sit in the restaurant, though, with a view of the tower. I didn’t want to sit in the restaurant, because I didn’t like being near the buffet and listening to other people’s chatter… and I didn’t like the chairs. There was a loud couple behind us who were cluing us in on the mundane intricacies of their lives. And… well, it didn’t “sit” well with me to be herded into the restaurant area, especially at the Grand Hotel Vilnius.
I have a feeling the server was hoping to minimize the areas that got “dirty”. I used to be a server, too. But then, there were people sitting in the bar area anyway, because there weren’t enough tables in the restaurant to accommodate everyone. I wished she’d just let us sit where we wanted to sit, so I didn’t have to leave with a less than positive impression.
Then, the same server who had brought me a birthday treat (not the one who herded us into the restaurant) came over to say hello and encouraged us to try a couple of items from the brand new breakfast menu.
Bill had Crepes Suzette and I had sour cream pancakes with forest berries.
Once we were finished with breakfast, we hung out in the room for about an hour, then checked out. A cabbie took us to the airport. A friend of mine from Gloucester, Virginia happened to be flying from Helsinki to Reykjavik. She warned me that security was very tight for some reason, but we didn’t have any issues. It was no time before we were checking our bags and headed to the business class lounge.
The lounge was nice enough, although I got the hell out of there as quickly as possible when a woman came near me with a bad cough and talked about how she’d been sick. Sorry… I’m not wanting to get sick before tomorrow’s journey to Zurich! I did get to try a local hefeweizen before we took off.
Our flight to Frankfurt was pretty full, but uneventful. The ticket scanner malfunctioned as I was trying to board, but it worked out when they used a different one. We had decent food on the flight– shrimp for me, and asparagus and feta for Bill. And I noticed the purser, though not as generous as the lady with the cool glasses on our flight over, was very kind faced and service oriented.
Below are some photos…
One last Lithuanian beer.This was surprisingly good. Lufthansa has pretty good food.Bill liked his dish, too.Ahhh… Frankfurt.
Once we landed a very polite, but clueless, little kid pushed to the front of the aircraft to use the lavatory. He wanted to pass me, but apparently didn’t notice that I had nowhere to go, and was trapped in the aisle. Bill managed to shift, and I made enough space for the little shit to go do his business.
Then we got off the plane and went to get our bags… always the worst part of any flight through Frankfurt. It’s a large airport and doesn’t have a train, so you walk your ass off. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, if you need the exercise. Obviously, I do.
It seemed like many people were on their way to other destinations, so very few people were waiting for bags. We picked ours up quickly and then got a cab back to Breckenheim. This time, the cab driver wasn’t very chatty in different languages.
I really liked our time in Vilnius. I was impressed with how beautiful and clean the city is, the excellent food, the friendly and funny people, and the very nice temperatures for June. I’d definitely go back. I’m especially happy that I visited the Museum of Occupations and Freedom Fights. That is a very interesting and important museum.
It still blows my mind that Lithuania had a Peace Corps program. It’s a very nice country… I’d say it probably could have been called a “Posh Corps” country, even back in the early 00s.
The very last post will be my ten things I learned post, which I’ll try to do tomorrow morning, before we head off to Die Schweiz. See you there!
The featured photo is of a cell that was once used in the KGB detention facility. That facility has now turned into the Museum of Occupations and Freedom Fights in Vilnius.
You might be wondering how a proposed trip to Paris, France turned into a trip to the former Soviet Union. Bill had asked me months ago where I wanted to celebrate my birthday. He said maybe it was time we visited Paris again. Our last visit there, and first time visiting Paris together, was in May 2009.
I like Paris fine, and truly have been wanting to go there again. At first, I was all for the idea. But then I started thinking about the crowds. June is the beginning of the high tourist season in Europe, and people from other countries are currently swarming the most popular European cities. So then I started thinking of other places I’ve never been and want to see. We did a champagne bucket draw, and it came down to the Loire Valley in France (which I did visit in September 1997) and Vilnius. We flipped a coin and Vilnius won.
So, we arranged for five nights in Lithuania’s capital. I was excited about it, because we have already been to Latvia and Estonia, the other two Baltic countries. I was eager to see what the largest one would be like. Then I started reading about Vilnius, which people described as a “gem” of a city. I remembered a couple of really nice people from Lithuania who were working on SeaDream I, a gorgeous mega yacht Bill and I have sailed on three times. And, as an informal Soviet Union history buff, I was curious to go to another former republic from that failed regime.
Now that I’ve been to Lithuania, I’ve come away from the experience deeply moved and newly educated. Growing up in the 70s and 80s, I heard a lot about the Soviet Union. Not knowing the history behind it, I assumed that the countries within it were “happy” to be in the Soviet Union. What can I say? I was an ignorant child, and didn’t have the greatest critical thinking skills. We weren’t necessarily taught about the Soviet Union’s history when I was in school. We were just taught that the “commies” were “bad”. It didn’t help that we had right wing movies like Red Dawn promoting stereotypes and propagandizing. Red Dawn came out when I was 12, and it was the very first PG-13 movie. Of course I watched it, and was seduced by its ignorant scaremongering messages.
Eleven years after I saw Red Dawn for the first time, I moved to the former Soviet Union to work for 27 months. I never thought I’d ever visit the former Soviet Union, let alone live there. I went to Armenia, which is not at all like Lithuania, except for the fact that it was also a Soviet country. The Armenian attitude toward Russia seemed to be somewhat more grateful, as Armenians were being threatened by Turks.
Armenians definitely don’t seem to have the same attitude about Russia that Lithuania and other Baltic countries have. Maybe that’s changed since Russia basically abandoned Armenia when Azerbaijan, another former Soviet republic, basically evicted Armenians for Nagorno-Karabakh/Artsakh, part of Azerbaijan that is historically Armenian.
My time in Armenia didn’t inform me that not all of the former Soviet republics appreciated Russia. My much briefer time in the Baltic countries has taught me that, indeed, the Soviet Union was an extremely vast country with many different peoples, divergent attitudes, religions, languages, cultural traditions, and mores… and no, they certainly weren’t all “happy” to be Soviets.
I did have a basic understanding of this concept before we traveled to Lithuania, but the idea was definitely driven home when I visited museums and churches and looked around the city of Vilnius. Just seeing all of the pro-Ukraine flags, as well as this huge sign atop of a high rise building, was a big clue about how many Lithuanians feel about Russia. (I won’t say all Lithuanians, because I don’t actually know if they all feel like that…)
Putin is definitely not widely esteemed in Vilnius…
Once we had decided to visit Lithuania, I set about making plans. It wasn’t easy, because our trusty dog hotel staff was on vacation when the decision was made. We had to wait for them to come back to work before I could book plane tickets and get the hotel reserved. But once they were back to work and confirmed the dogs were welcome, I booked us five nights in a deluxe room with a balcony at the Grand Hotel Vilnius, Curio Collection by Hilton.
It had been years since I last stayed at a Hilton. I think I chose it because of the location, the fact that it had a pool and hot tub (which I sadly didn’t get to use), and because Bill collects Hilton Honors points. I am a member of Hilton Honors, too, but I had never actually collected any points. When we’ve stayed in Hilton hotels before, it was because Bill did the booking. Then I did some reading and figured Bill wouldn’t be able to get points unless he booked straight from Hilton, which was much more expensive than booking the hotel and flights through Expedia (where I also have a lot of loyalty points). So the booking was under my name.
I also booked business class flights on Lufthansa, because we can afford it, and I prefer to travel in comfort. Business class on flights within Europe isn’t all that special. You get access to the lounge, expedited security screening, a meal and drinks, and no one sits in the middle seat of your row. You also get “priority” baggage handling, and checked bags are included in the price. But the seats on the plane are no different than what you get in economy. You just don’t have to worry about offending a stranger who might be sitting next to you, or vice versa. To be honest, that’s really the number one reason why I try to book business class when I fly.
Once all of that was booked, we waited for the big day– June 18th. I was stoked, but kind of wondering what we were in for… I do love what little I’ve seen of Estonia and Latvia. This break would be a longer look. I was thinking maybe we’d be ambitious and take day trips or something. We didn’t end up doing any day trips, and yet it was still a very educational visit. More on that in the next parts…
Featured photo is of Frankfurt as we descended into the city this afternoon.
I had a great time turning 53 in Vilnius, Lithuania. This was the fifth former Soviet country I have visited, the others being: Armenia, Georgia, Latvia, and Estonia. Of course, if you’ve followed me for any length of time, you might know that I lived in Armenia for 27 months as a Peace Corps Volunteer from 1995-97. I didn’t get a great look at Georgia, Estonia, or Latvia, as I just passed through Georgia on a bus in 1996 and Bill and I visited Tallin, Estonia twice, and Riga and Liepaja, Latvia once each on cruises.
Our visit to Vilnius was a comprehensive and full five night affair, and boy was I impressed with the place. Lithuania was once a Peace Corps country, as were Latvia and Estonia. Their programs ended in 2002. I could hardly believe how upscale Lithuania felt and appeared. It’s hard to imagine that it once hosted Peace Corps Volunteers! Of course, when I visited Armenia in 2023, I was surprised by how far it’s come, too, although it doesn’t look quite as clean and spiffy as Lithuania does… at least not yet.
Anyway, I will be doing my usual series for our trip, which was fairly busy. We didn’t do much on my birthday, because it was pouring rain all day, and because my muscles were extremely sore from climbing the Cathedral Bell Tower. But it still managed to be a memorable birthday for me, as Bill and I enjoyed lots of beers at a really cool pub.
I think I’ll start the series tomorrow morning. I’m kind of tired from our travel today. But I have lots of pictures and stories to share, so I hope a few readers will tune in… For now, here are a few photos…
One thing I learned is that Lithuanians are people of great faith… and I found their faith hopeful and uplifting in these troubling times. Aside from that, Vilnius is literally a cool city. The weather was actually chilly a couple of days. I had to wear a sweater on my birthday! We also enjoyed a lot of really good food. I was surprised by how fresh and delicious everything was. We even tried the famous “Pink Soup”.
So, hopefully tomorrow, I’ll get started on my latest series, and maybe get it finished before this Saturday, when we head to Zurich/Kusnacht, Switzerland for eight nights! For now, I need to relax for a bit and regroup. Traveling is tiring.
A couple of months ago, I got an email from the founder of the Recovery from Mormonism (RfM) messageboard, Eric K. I was surprised to hear from him, since although I had frequented that board for over 20 years, we had never really had many exchanges on his Web site. One thing we do have in common is music. Eric plays woodwinds in a number of bands.
Eric’s email was to inform me that he and his wife, Kathy, were coming to Germany for three weeks. He wanted to know if Bill and I would like to meet up with them for dinner. During their trip, they were going to be visiting Mainz and Frankfurt, two cities near where we live. The funny thing is, I haven’t been hanging out much on the RfM board much lately. Neither has Eric, since he handed over control of RfM to a trusted associate a few years ago.
I always experience a little bit of anxiety when it comes to meeting new people. I have the kind of personality that people seem to love or hate. Bill is much better at making neutral first impressions than I am. Nevertheless, I owe RfM a great debt, because that Web site helped me understand the religion Bill joined with his ex wife back in 1997. Bill ultimately resigned from the LDS church in 2006, four years after we married.
I grew up Presbyterian, a very mainstream Calvinist church, often populated by people of Scottish or Scots-Irish descent (that’s definitely me). When I met Bill, I knew next to nothing about the LDS church… and I didn’t understand why he was a bit panicked when he found out that I had talked to LDS missionaries one day when he was at work, back in 2002. Bill was a member of the church, but it was because of his ex wife’s influence. I didn’t know it then, but he was on his way out of Mormonism, and had started to think of it as a cult. So when I talked to the missionaries, he was afraid they would try to get him back to church.
The RfM board was a place where we could share our story and connect with people who were in a similar situation. It was a place to read about some of the significant issues people face when they leave highly controlling/restrictive religions. It was also a great place for finding music, books, and even some new online friends. We decided that we wanted to meet the man who created that online community in November 1995, which is still going almost thirty years later.
Bill and I met Eric and Kathy last night after a couple of days of trading emails trying to come up with plans. Unbeknownst to us, yesterday there was a huge gay pride celebration in Frankfurt. It happened to be going on right by where Eric and Kathy were staying. Originally, we were going to visit them today, but the restaurant they wanted to go to is closed today. So we decided to brave the pandemonium of the gay pride celebration. I’m really glad we did that, because not only was the restaurant a winner, but it was really cool to be walking around the gay pride party with three ex Mormons.
We met Eric and Kathy at their hotel at 4:30 PM, had a drink in the hotel’s tapas bar as we introduced ourselves. Then we went to Quattro, a really nice Italian restaurant next to their hotel. Eric said they’d gone to that restaurant a couple of nights earlier and enjoyed the food and service very much. After our dinner last night, Bill and I can echo their positive sentiments about Quattro. It has a small indoor dining room, but there’s also a very cool outdoor terrace with what appeared to be a retractible roof. We had 5:00 reservations, so it wasn’t that busy when we arrived, but by the time we left, it was packed with gay pride revelers!
Below are some photos of the food we enjoyed at Quattro. Bill and I shared a dorade fish– which was one of their specials. We also ordered an antipasto platter for two, which we all shared. It was a good call to get the antipasto for two, and share it among the four of us. More would have been too much! And of course, there was dessert!
The antipasto had burrata, octopus, squid, vitello tonnato, scampi, Parma ham with cantaloupe, beef carpaccio, and smoked salmon. Eric and Kathy each had pasta dishes– spaghetti for him, and ravioli for her. Our dorade came with broccoli and a boiled potato. We had two bottles of white wine and sparkling water– I loved that they were water compatible with us, too! A lot of Americans prefer still water.
For dessert, Bill had lemon sorbet. I had panna cotta with a berry compote. Eric and Kathy shared a chocolate souffle with ice cream. I think the total bill for the four of us was about 300 euros, which the men split.
What I really enjoyed about last night’s dinner, aside from the food and ambiance, was the natural and free flowing conversation. We weren’t awkward at all! It turned out that we had a lot of similar views about the topics that tend to divide people– religion and politics. Eric and Kathy have two adult children, and their son is a veteran. Their daughter has made them grandparents. Eric, Kathy, and Bill are all LDS converts. I have never been LDS, but I did serve in the Peace Corps. Eric did a Mormon mission in Finland. And Bill has a daughter who has made him a grandfather four times over, so they were able to talk about the grandchildren and share pictures.
After dinner, we walked around the gay pride festival. I took a bunch of photos. We could have probably spent a little more time walking around the festival, but it was very crowded and a bit warm. Also, we were clearly not with the crowd, because we were dressed very conservatively! Still, how cool is it that three ex Mormons were getting to know each other at a gay pride event? There was a time when the three of them would never have gone to that event because of the religion.
I was surprised by this establishment’s name.Look closely at this photo…These signs were at the Democrats Abroad booth. I am signed up with that organization…They send emails and texts, and even call me, to remind me to vote…We drove my Mini, so I was able to get some good photos of Frankfurt’s skyline. It’s the only German city with true skyscrapers.Gay pride was everywhere!
Bill’s daughter is still LDS, but according to her, the church is getting somewhat more liberal these days. They’ve lessened some of the time commitments required of members, and softened some of their stances on certain issues. Still, I can’t imagine that a lot of active church members would have wanted to mingle at a gay pride festival, where there were all kinds of crazy get ups, lots of smoking and drinking, and people wearing t-shirts with foul language on them. I could easily worn my new t-shirt that says “Fuck off!” on it. No one would have batted an eye!
After we walked around the gay pride event, we went back to the hotel lobby and chatted a bit more. We learned about how risky and scary it was to leave the LDS church, particularly at a time when widespread use of the Internet was still in its infancy. It occurred to me that there’s good to be found in almost every situation. I mean, if it weren’t for Bill’s ex wife demanding that they convert to the LDS church, I probably never would have met Eric and Kathy. I never would have had a reason to hang out on RfM.
It’s possible that I would have found RfM because I was curious, and maybe I would have even hung around for awhile. But it was because the LDS church directly affected us that I stayed on that site for such a long time… and if I hadn’t done that, it’s unlikely that we would have had last night’s experience. And while I don’t know if we’ll have the opportunity to mingle with Eric and Kathy again, it really was a pleasure meeting them and experiencing that side of Frankfurt together!
Even if I had never met Bill, my life has been unexpectedly touched by Mormonism. I knew a LDS couple in Armenia, as they were part of my Peace Corps group. They were the first Mormons I ever got to know well. And then my mom’s alma mater, Southern Seminary in Buena Vista, Virginia, was purchased by LDS businesspeople, who turned it into a Mormon influenced university. The influx of Mormons has changed Buena Vista and Rockbridge County, which happens to be where both of my parents grew up. And then I went on to marry a Latter-day Saint, who then resigned… but still has ties to the church because of his daughters.
Anyway… we really enjoyed last night. I even suggested Frank Scaheffer, one of my favorite authors, to Eric and Kathy. I think they could really relate to his story. Schaeffer was raised by famous American evangelical missionaries in Switzerland. He didn’t learn to read until he was about eleven years old and was groomed to take over his parents’ ministry. Instead, he became an atheist and best selling author and filmmaker. He’s written wonderful novels, but he’s also written some excellent non-fiction books.
Frank Schaeffer also has a son who joined the Marines, a world that was totally foreign to Schaeffer. He wrote some excellent books about that experience and changed his mind about the military. Kathy had also lamented her son’s decision to join the military, but then came to accept it, as Frank Schaeffer did with his son.
I discovered Schaeffer about twenty years ago, when I used to hang out on a messageboard for people who had attended (and many had been expelled from) Pensacola Christian College, an extremely conservative Christian college in Florida. It’s so strict it makes Bob Jones University look liberal. I found some of the posters there surprisingly well read and brave. One of the posters mentioned Schaeffer, and how his novels were the only ones he’d found that really got the experience of growing up fundie right. I’m not sure if that observation is still true, but I was curious enough to read Schaeffer’s trilogy of novels about Calvin Becker– clearly based on his real life experiences in Switzerland. They were funny and poignant, and I became a fan.
I do love it when we can make connections offline with people we meet on the Internet. I’m really glad we took a chance, and met the couple behind the legendary RfM messageboard. It’s mind boggling how many people RfM has helped, and lives Eric has helped improve, by starting that resource. I am very grateful for that, and for last night’s amazing fellowship!
Well… that about does it for today’s post. I’m not sure what we’ll do today. The wine festival is going on, but we’re just as likely to stay home and enjoy a nice afternoon in our backyard. Or maybe we’ll hit a Biergarten… or do something else. It’s so nice to have Bill home again.
Edited to add: I forgot to mention this earlier in the post, but we did see some crazy pedestrian stunts yesterday. One guy was juggling in the middle of a busy intersection while we were waiting for a light. A woman was in an adjacent intersection hula hooping. They were no doubt hoping for tips.
Then, on the way out of Frankfurt, Bill got stressed out trying to navigate the city. A strung out looking woman appeared to be kicked out of a cab in the middle of the street. She lingered in traffic, motioning to Bill, as if she wanted money. The top was down on the Mini, and I found myself yelling “Get out of the way!” at her… Thankfully, she heeded my command! Bill guesses she didn’t have enough money to pay for the cab ride and was hoping to raise some euros. Hope she didn’t get hit by a car.
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.
We’ve finally reached the end of my Armenian series. What an amazing trip it was! Bill says it was one of the best trips we’ve done together, and we didn’t even go to many of the really cool ancient places for which Armenia is famous. Instead, we met people I knew years ago, saw places where I used to live, ate good food and drank wine, listened to great live music, and enjoyed being somewhere other than continental Europe, for a change. I almost hated to leave!
Bill arranged for a van to pick us up at 2:30 AM, giving us plenty of time for our 5:05 AM non-stop flight to Frankfurt on Lufthansa. We didn’t really need a van, but the guy at the front desk warned Bill that it might be best to order one if we had a lot of luggage. So, there we were– two of us with four bags between us. The driver looked at us and said, “That’s it?” For this, we paid a fare of 17,000 drams. He was a good driver, though, so Bill gave him 20,000 drams and told him to keep the change. The driver was happy, and wished us a pleasant flight.
We went up to the Lufthansa baggage drop, and the woman at the counter eyed the portfolio Bill presented and said she thought it should go in oversize baggage. I asked if it was absolutely necessary, and she asked a colleague, who said it was fine for the portfolio to go through the normal luggage queue. So, with our bags dropped, and our tickets printed, we headed to security. This is where things got a bit traumatic.
I was shocked to see these cartons of cigarettes…Just about every Armenian man smokes. I’m not sure these over the top warnings work. But they are very amusing to see!
I mentioned in my first post in this series that I got groped by an aggressive female security officer. I’m not exactly sure what her problem was, but my problem was that there was a woman holding everybody up, because she had a baby stroller that she was struggling to fold. Instead of stepping aside to deal with the stroller, she was in front of the metal detector, blocking everyone’s egress. I don’t know about you, but when it’s about 3:30 AM, and I haven’t had any coffee, I’m not the friendliest person in the world. But I wasn’t complaining. I wasn’t saying anything or causing a scene. I probably just looked a bit annoyed.
I had gotten out of the habit of flying, thanks to COVID. And I live where advanced security screening is in place. Nowadays, travelers coming through Frankfurt don’t have to take off watches and the like. But Yerevan only has a metal detector. It doesn’t have a scanner. I forgot to take off my watch, and the metal detector went off. The security officer started frisking me, then noticed the watch. I had to put it in a bin and go through the detector again. The thing went off again, probably because there was metal in my shoes and my bra. She started her aggressive frisking, ordering me to put my arms out again and snapping, “I haven’t finished with you yet!” as she ran her hands over my stomach and between my legs. I was getting a bit pissed off, and felt rather violated.
Then she started speaking Russian to me, and I looked her in the eyes and said, very calmly and seriously, in English, “I don’t speak Russian.”
In retrospect, maybe I should have said that in Armenian, which I could have done. It probably would have really disarmed her. But English did the trick. She backed off immediately, and I got my stuff and got out of there. I don’t know if she was truly done harassing me, or if she’d thought I was Russian and was taking out collective Armenian hostility toward me… someone she might have thought was from Russia. In any case, while I understand that security screening at airports is very important, that woman’s hostile demeanor and lack of courtesy didn’t leave me with a great impression. Fortunately, most of the other people I ran into during our trip made up for her inappropriate and obnoxious attitude.
Yerevan’s updated airport is pretty nice, and it has a decent duty free shop that everyone has to walk through on their way into the secure gate area. We looked around for the business class lounge, which it turns out is upstairs. There’s an elevator in the duty free shop, or stairs for those who prefer them. The lounge is for business class or higher travelers using any airline. Those who are waiting there can enjoy snacks and beverages… coffee machines with Russian instructions, beer, wine, sparkling water, and the like. Bill and I had some coffee while we waited. The restrooms have showers in them, and only one toilet. I guess if you need a shower, you can lock the door, and all the other travelers would be out of luck.
A must in an Armenian airport.Even my morning man, Bill, was a bit over it at that hour…Jermuk tastes better than it used to. We drank a lot of it, as well as Bjni.
Bill saw a sign that our flight was boarding, even though it was ahead of the time noted on our tickets. Not wanting to miss Lufthansa’s one weekly flight to Frankfurt, we went down to the gate, where a whole bunch of people were waiting. There were some cute girls in sweats who were wide awake, practicing what appeared to be cheers. I didn’t know Armenia had cheerleaders, and maybe that’s not what they were. But they looked like cheerleaders, and their early morning pep was both amusing and a little irritating.
It took forever for our flight to start boarding. In fact, we didn’t start boarding until some time after the listed boarding time. And business class passengers were boarded later. I guess they were loading the back of the aircraft first, which makes sense. I don’t know why people are so eager to get on the plane, anyway. I think most folks just want to get the whole ordeal over with, nowadays. Flying isn’t the luxe experience it once was.
Bill and I were in the third row. As soon as we sat down, an American guy took the seat behind me. He was sitting with a British guy who kept calling him “my brother”. They didn’t know each other before they were seated in the same row, but boy, did they act like they were buddies. The two of them immediately launched into a loud and obnoxious conversation about where they lived (both in England, near or in London), what they did for a living (retired orthopedic surgeon who supposedly worked with US military special ops, and a presenter for the BBC), what kind of luxury cars they drove or hoped to own (don’t remember that part), and how they get their news (American dude preferred reading the news to watching TV, because TV news is too biased). It went on for awhile, and I was worried I was going to have to listen to them blather for five hours.
Meanwhile, the lady sitting in front of me appeared to be Armenian. She had a pretty girl with her who looked to be about 13 or so. The pretty girl went alone to the back of the aircraft, while (mom?) sat down in front of me. I caught her casting a furtive look at the two chatterboxes behind Bill and me, who were continuing to run their mouths about their luxurious lifestyles in England. We were all in on their conversation, whether we wanted to be or not! I asked Bill if he had any earbuds, since I didn’t bring my headphones with me. He misunderstood and pulled out ear plugs. Fortunately, he also had earbuds, and I tested them to see if they’d work on my tablet. They did, and I heaved a sigh of relief, although I hate wearing earbuds. They are usually too big for my ears and don’t stay in well.
We took off, and the lady in front of me immediately reclined. I didn’t mind it, though, because I had plenty of space in front of me. I’m short, anyway, so there’s usually ample leg room for me. Once we were in the air, I had to pee really badly. But the pilot kept the seatbelt light on for ages. Bill finally got up after about an hour or so, and asked when they were going to turn off the light so I could go to the bathroom. The flight attendants said it would only be a few more minutes. Suddenly, there was a commotion in the back. A woman came up to speak to the flight attendants, and they went to the back to see what was wrong.
A few minutes later, the seatbelt light finally went off, and with a groan of immense gratitude, I went to relieve myself. Meanwhile, the flight attendants were asking for medical personnel to come forward. The guy behind me got up, as did an Ear, Nose, and Throat doctor from Wales. There were many Welsh people in Yerevan during our visit, because of football. I’m guessing that’s why the ENT doctor was there. Bill and I were a little afraid the flight might need to be diverted, since the flight attendants seemed so concerned.
But then a few minutes later, the ortho guy sat down again, and told his new British friend that there was a lady back there who had neglected to take her medication and was having some kind of medical issue related to that. He went on a little more about the woman, then said that he’d let the ENT doctor from Wales handle the emergency, since he’d retired from medicine in ’08. He didn’t look old enough to retire, but based on what he was loudly telling everyone in business class, he had done very well for himself and was now living a life of leisure. Anyway, he did mention that the woman would be alright. So much for healthcare privacy, but there is no HIPAA in the friendly skies. 😉
Then the American “doctor man” started talking about the wonders of Georgian brandies and his visit to the Genocide Memorial, as if he knew what he was talking about. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes… but in my defense, it was very early in the morning; I was still a bit traumatized by the aggressive frisking; and I’d already been listening to those two guys ramble on for over an hour.
Finally, the flight attendants served breakfast. We had a choice between sweet and savory. I chose sweet, and Bill chose savory. It was too dark to take a photo, although I don’t remember the food being inedible. I usually stick with a roll and some water or orange juice, anyway.
We landed in Frankfurt at about 7:00 AM. When we went through passport control, I was confronted with a handsome young German guy in a uniform. He was markedly more pleasant than the Armenian officials had been. He started leafing through my passport and said, “How long have you been in Germany?”
I said, “About nine years.” Bill was standing behind me, rolling his eyes.
“Do you have a residency permit?” the guy asked with a surprisingly flirtatious smile.
“I have a SOFA card in the back of the passport.” I responded.
The guy found it, noted that it wasn’t expired, and sent me on my way. When it was Bill’s turn, he said, “That’s my wife.” The guy stamped his passport and let him go.
It always amazes me when border control guards are confronted by Americans who are very casual about approaching them. They don’t see a residency permit, and ask how long we’ve been here. We tell them “SOFA City, sweetheart…” They roll their eyes and let us go. Wouldn’t you eventually just look for the SOFA card before asking about a residency card?
SOFA, for those who don’t know, stands for “Status of Forces Agreement”. It’s basically like a special residency card for Americans who work for the US government or military, as well as their families. It allows us unlimited entrance and exit privileges from our host countries, as well as legal residency, and some other privileges. But it’s not quite the same thing as a German residency card.
We made our way to the baggage carousel. I noticed there weren’t too many people there, which probably means a lot of people were on their way to the USA or England… or maybe somewhere else in continental Europe. Having flown to Yerevan from the USA before, I didn’t envy them. But I would rather fly from Yerevan to the USA than the other way around. It gets earlier when you go west, so you don’t tend to feel so disoriented.
When I flew back to the USA after my Peace Corps assignment, I had been traveling by train around Europe for a month. It wasn’t nearly as traumatic as when I went to Yerevan in 1995. Well, it wasn’t as traumatic until 1997, when I met my father at Dulles Airport, and he treated me like something he’d scraped off his shoe, and told me he was going into rehab for his alcoholism the next day. Don’t get me wrong. I was glad he was getting treatment, but he sure spoiled my carefully cultivated “coming home” fantasy that was two years in the making.
After we found our bags, we were looking for that portfolio with our paintings that Bill had worked so hard to acquire the day prior to our journey. A German airport employee guy came around with it and seemed to know that it belonged to us. The Armenian lady at the Lufthansa desk had, sure enough, sent it to oversized baggage, even though it only weighed about two kilos and was flat. I guess it was too cumbersome for the regular baggage drop.
Bill and I easily found a taxi, which took us back to our humble abode in Breckenheim. The weather was cold and drizzly, just as it usually is in Germany at this time of year. I was glad to be back home, although we really had a great time in Armenia. It already feels like a dream, though… Like I can’t believe I went back there and felt so very comfortable. I still know the city of Yerevan like the back of my hand. Obviously, we will have to go back and explore some more. The good news is, now that Bill has had a taste of Armenian hospitality, he’s ready for a new adventure!
So ends my Armenian blow by blow blog series. I just have one more post to make, and that would be my highly entertaining “ten things I learned” list. Hopefully, some folks will read that. I learned an awful lot on this trip. So, by all means, stay tuned if you’re interested…
On Wednesday morning, it was still a bit rainy outside. We decided to eat breakfast inside the hotel, instead of in the outdoor dining area of the rooftop restaurant. As usual, there was a good spread and plenty of different items to choose from, although I tended to stick with the same things most days.
Our plan was to visit the Vernissage, which in the 90s used to only run on the weekends. The “flea market” is still held near the metro station for Republic Square (Հանրապետության Հրապարակ), just like it used to be back when I lived in Yerevan. However, now there are long, permanent stalls set up, so vendors can enjoy protection from the rain and sun. There are also a couple of actual stores on the grounds that sell everything from art, to khorovats grill sets, to chess sets.
My goal was to look for more art for our house and some toys for Bill’s grandchildren. I also wanted to show Bill around this market, which is a great place to go for souvenirs, even if some of what is sold there is legitimate crap. The Vernissage is often kind of festive, although it’s probably best to visit on the weekends, when there are a lot more vendors and things to choose from. In retrospect, it was probably better that we went on Wednesday, because by Saturday, I was pretty tired, cranky, and sore from all the walking we did.
As we walked through the stalls, people encouraged us to stop for a look. I said to one woman, “Heto, k’gam.” (later, I will come), but that kind of turned out to be a lie. Nevertheless, we did find a few things. I bought a couple of supposedly cashmere scarves that the saleslady assured me I could put in the washing machine. They were the same design, but different colors. I’ll probably wear them when I make YouTube videos. I like to wear shawls and scarves over my nightgowns, so I don’t have to change clothes! 😉
Our second stop was where we bought a few magnets for our fridge, and to send to Bill’s daughter. Next to the magnet lady was a very friendly guy who was selling coffee grinders and Armenian coffee pots. He was laying it on thick, too, even showing us a pot that had a stamp that read “USSR”. I asked him if it was old, and he said it wasn’t. Hmmm… Well, I guess I can’t blame him for trying.
I’m not sure that stamping USSR on stuff is the best way to make a sale, since the USSR wasn’t really known for putting out high quality products, unless you’re discussing booze. Naturally, they were both surprised I could speak some Armenian, although he was actually talking to Bill a lot. Bill bought a pot and a grinder, and the friendly coffee pot guy threw in a “free” spoon. Besides, if the coffee pot had been produced in the Soviet Union, I would have expected the stamp to read CCCP. Maybe we should have bought one just for the laughs.
We had to stop at that point, because Bill needed to get more drams, and it was soon getting close to lunchtime. So we brought our items back to the room and walked around the block behind the hotel. There, we found a gastropub called Bambak.
A breakfast view of the hotel restaurant.Bill ponders life over cheese and coffee.Near the metro station, there are things to look at…The Vernissage is in the background.A restaurant in the Vernissage area.A place to buy carpets! I saw a lady actually working on one.The menu at Bambak.Beautifully presented bruschetta!Beef cheeks!The patio at Bambak.
Bambak had a relatively simple menu and offered interesting dishes. I really enjoyed the music, which one of the waiters said was courtesy of Spotify. I don’t use Spotify myself, but maybe it’s time I got with the times. I did a lot of Shazamming while we were dining. Bill had beef cheeks with mashed potatoes. I had a bruschetta with poached eggs and smoked salmon. I liked the way the eggs were presented. They almost looked like hinkalis.
Another statue near Republic Square. Yerevan is full of them.
By the time we finished lunch, the sun was coming out. We decided to go back to the Vernissage to look for locally made toys for Bill’s grandchildren. I had noticed one stall that offered wooden toys and matryoshka dolls. We stopped there and met a guy named Aram who sold us a wooden car, a wooden train, and a pretty matryoshka doll. We also bought a couple of artsy looking mugs from a different vendor, since we collect them from the places we visit. Aram was really working the sale, and he was very nice.
Unfortunately, on our way back to Germany, one of the wheels came off the wooden car. I don’t feel too upset about it, though, because it kind of reminds me of what life in Armenia could be like, back in the day! Bill will get some wood glue and fix it before we send it to Utah.
Impressive bar!Fried cheese sticks and chicken strips.
Stepan had told us about Dargett craft beers, and its restaurant on Aram Street. Since we love craft beers, Bill and I decided that Dargett was a must visit. After a short rest at the hotel, we went there and proceeded to try a bunch of different Armenian “suds”. Beer is served in smaller glasses in Armenia than in Germany. That makes it easier to try all kinds of different stuff. I loved the classic rock they were playing in Dargett and the laid back atmosphere. The staff looked like they enjoyed their jobs and working together. We stayed awhile, and later ordered some snacks to carry us over until the morning.
Last week, when we visited Dargett, I wrote about the waitress we talked to as we were paying. She had noticed my hilarious Armenian skills and struck up a conversation. She knew about the Peace Corps, having grown up in Kapan, a southern city in Armenia. Her father had lived in Baku, Azerbaijan for 35 years and had to move back to Armenia, where he worked as a chef. She had done well in school and was twice invited to participate in the FLEX Program, which would have allowed her to spend a year at an American high school. This is the same program Stepan’s daughter did at a high school in Washington State. Her parents would not let her go, though, so she moved to Yerevan and now works as a food and beverage manager at a hotel, and waits tables at Dargett. She said she was 23 years old, and life in Armenia was hard.
Of course, I wouldn’t say being 23 is easy for a lot of people, even in the United States. On the other hand, when I was 23, I also lived in Yerevan! I didn’t have an easy time as a 23 year old in Yerevan, either. My heart went out to her. She said she dreams of living in Europe. I can’t blame her for that. Talking to her was a reminder that life is still not easy in Yerevan, even though it’s obviously more comfortable there than it used to be. I was also reminded that some people don’t have passports that allow them to travel as easily as a US passport does.
I guess I can’t blame the young woman’s parents for not wanting her to go to the United States. I’m sure, to a lot of people, the USA doesn’t look that great anymore. Her parents might have been worried about anything from Donald Trump’s influence to school shootings. School shootings, in particular, seem like a minor risk… until your child is at a school where one happens. Anyway, I don’t even want to go back to the United States myself, and I am a native. So I can definitely empathize… and I hope things get better for her. Her English is impeccable, which will already take her far.
We walked back to the hotel at about 9:00 or so, ready to go to bed. The next day would be our 21st wedding anniversary… which I have already written about, but I’ll do it again in the next post, since I have lots of photos to share.
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.The mural…Fake Toys R Us.
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 German Embassy, which is located next door to the Peace Corps office. I think it used to be across the street.
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.My host family lived in a building beyond that arch.Lots of traffic!The funicular…I’m sure it will eventually be torn down.Half built buildings…Among spas and medical facilities…Scary intersection I used to have to cross every day, with no benefit of a light.Self explanatory…This underpass used to be less well lit.
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.Cool building on Abovyan Street
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.This was a bottle Bill found at a local “mini mart” type store.
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… 😉
You must be logged in to post a comment.