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.
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.
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.
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.
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