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!

Champagne Bucket trips, emergencies

The journey back to Germany… part eleven of our Armenian adventure!

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…*

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.

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…

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…

Champagne Bucket trips

Pictures from our 21st anniversary… part eight of our Armenian adventure!

As I mentioned in today’s earlier post, I’ve already written about the weirdness that occurred on our 21st wedding anniversary. I did a pretty good job covering that day, so rather than repeating myself, I’m just going to share more photos from our anniversary. I have already written the story, probably because I was a bit freaked out and upset, and writing helps me calm down and focus. But I didn’t share very many pictures at all in that rant… So I’ll share some photos and video with this post, with minimal commentary. If you want to read the gory details about our messed up anniversary, click here.

*A view of the Hrazdan Gorge and Ararat Brandy Company.*

We tried to cross the street to go to the brandy factory, but the light wasn’t working properly. We got a green light, but cars still sped through the intersection. It wasn’t safe to cross there, so we walked the road down past the stadium.

*At The Garden, a restaurant in Yerevan…*

A few hours after we went to “The Garden”, we had dinner at a highly recommended place called Sherep. It was just across Amiryan Street, steps away from our hotel. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a great experience for us, although maybe we would have liked it if it hadn’t been our anniversary, and if we’d ordered beer instead of wine… Again, you can read the juicy details in last week’s post, linked above.

*I made the mistake of trying to pour my own wine.*

I should have probably waited to write about our anniversary, but I was so aggravated and pissed off that I had to get it out of my system. But I was right when I wrote at the end of that post that the next day would be better. It was a prophetic statement. And even though it was a “weird day”, it certainly could have been much worse. At least we managed to walk several miles, and we made a friend in the food and beverage manager at the hotel.

*A complimentary bottle of wine sent to us by the food and beverage manager, when I told her it was our anniversary… Such a nice and welcoming gesture!*

Champagne Bucket trips

Rainy Wednesday at the Vernissage, and a meaningful chat with a waitress… part seven of our Armenian adventure!

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.*

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.

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.

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… 😉

Champagne Bucket trips

It really pays to know Stepan if you’re in Yerevan… part five of our Armenian adventure!

Monday morning, we got up and had breakfast in the rooftop restaurant. I was enjoying the delicious cherry juice they had. I remember I used to buy that all the time when I lived in Yerevan. I might have to see if I can find it nearby. I’d probably prefer that to orange juice in the morning.

It was kind of warm during our visit. I seem to remember November being cooler in Yerevan in the 90s… but then, I think that was true for almost everywhere back then. Bill and I discussed how to spend the day. I suggested climbing the Cascade Steps and taking a walk around Victory Park, where Mother Armenia is. I used to live very close to that park.

Bill agreed with that idea, so once we were finished with breakfast, we got on our way. I used to climb the Cascade Steps on a daily basis when I first lived in Yerevan. I didn’t know about the escalators until I’d been there awhile, and going up and down the steps was the quickest and easiest way to get to the center of Yerevan, short of taking a bus or a taxi.

The Cascade Steps have changed a bit since 1997. The idea of creating “cascades” down a hillside was originally conceived by the architect Alexander Tamanyan (1878-1936) as a way to connect the northern part of Yerevan to the central part. The idea didn’t come to fruition until the 70s, when architect Jim Torosyan revived it, and added in his own idea to construct a huge limestone stairway. Work on creating the Cascade Steps began in the 80s, but halted after the 1988 earthquake. Then, in 1991, the Soviet Union disintegrated, and the work stopped again.

In 1995, when I arrived in Yerevan, the Cascade Steps were clearly still uncompleted. Today, there’s beautiful landscaping and the complex houses the Cafesjian Center for the Arts. But in the 90s, I saw the halls in the steps used for other purposes. I distinctly remember there being a nightclub housed in one level at one time. My colleagues and I used to sit on the steps on Friday nights after training and play music and sing. Sadly, I also saw some pretty massive disrespect of the structure itself on the nights we did that. More than one intoxicated man would use the steps as a public urinal. As you can see in the photo below, there was a dirt road there and lots of trees– no sculptures, working fountains, or places to sit. And there were fewer bushes on the steps.

*How I remember them in 1995… Special thanks to my Peace Corps friend Elaine, whose photo I ripped off from Facebook (mine are all in storage).*

Anyway it’s much better there today, although the steps still aren’t quite completed. As of this writing, there are 579 steps that end at a huge, fenced off hole where, clearly, the steps will continue to be built, perhaps until they meet the monument for the 50th anniversary of the Soviet Union.

*One of the many restaurants and cafes near the Cascade Steps.*

By the time we reached the steps, I needed to answer the call of nature. We found a really great coffee shop nearby that offered all kinds of elaborate drinks and pastries. I was still feeling kind of flabbergasted, because in the 90s, we had nothing like this. The area around the Cascade Steps now has a whole bunch of restaurants. I think maybe one restaurant opened there in the 90s, and it’s long gone now. I took care of my personal business and we enjoyed a very nice round of drinks to fortify us for the climb.

Once we were finished at the coffee shop, we made our way to the impressive structure. I stalled a bit by taking pictures in the gardens in front of the steps. I hate climbing steps, even though it’s very good for one’s health. I always feel about 20 years older afterwards. 😀

We started the climb up the steps, pausing every so often to take in the view and catch our breaths. Unfortunately, the day we climbed the steps was not the best day for looking at Mount Ararat. It was a bit hazy and smoggy. But it’s still kind of a thrill to climb the steps, especially when you’re a fatass housewife like I am. 😉 A couple of months ago, after Bill and I visited the Crystal Cave in Hessen, I wrote a blog post about overcoming “physical challenges” when I travel. I’m very proud that I was able to conquer the ones I wrote about in that post. Not that it was easy in any case… I think the tower in Cesky Krumlov was the least challenging.

You can see the 50 year Soviet memorial in the last photo the gallery. To get there from the steps, you have to walk past the construction site at the top of the steps and past some housing. There was a guy up there trying to sell tours, and naturally he addressed us in Russian. But we were on a mission…

*50 years of Soviet rule… Stepan said he climbed it, but they no longer allow that.*

After we got to the top of the steps and clambered up the rickety steps to the Soviet memorial, we made our way to Victory Park. To get there safely, we had to use one of Yerevan’s many underpasses. I was relieved that one in particular was relatively clean and in good repair. Some of Yerevan’s underpasses are in pretty bad condition and serve as unofficial pee stations. For an example of one of the less desirable underpasses, have a look here. Most of the ones we encountered on our trip were looking decent enough. Some even had thought provoking and interesting graffiti.

Victory Park is the home of Mother Armenia, who stands guard over Yerevan, and shows up in everybody’s pictures. She’s been there since 1967, and is surrounded by tanks and even an old MiG airplane. According to Wikipedia, Mother Armenia’s statue replaced one of Joseph Stalin. Good choice!

Victory Park is also home to an amusement park, with lots of rides for kids. I didn’t see many rides operating during our visit, but I did notice places to eat and a huge, modern looking ferris wheel, along with one that looked more like the one that was in the park in the 90s. I showed Bill the artificial lake I used to pass on my way to my first home for about 9 weeks after Peace Corps swearing in. When I lived in that area, the lake was filled higher and boys would swim in it. When we visited, a guy was walking what looked like a street dog turned pet. The dog happily jumped into the lake for a swim.

We also passed a restaurant that replaced one I used to pass that had a fox in a cage. 🙁 In the 90s, it wasn’t uncommon to see restaurants where wild animals were caged. I remember one place in particular; it was near Republic Square. We called it the “Feed the Monkey Cafe”, because they had a live monkey there. When I was a Peace Corps Volunteer, I remember seeing people using animals at restaurants as a gimmick to drum up business. I was glad not to see any of that on this visit, although the practice probably still exists in some of the regions.

*A pretty high speed ride offered at Victory Park!*

By the time we were heading toward the entrance of Victory Park, I was feeling pretty tired and sore. We stopped at a bench and gazed at the Radisson Blu Hotel by the park. It didn’t exist in the 90s. 😉

Here are some more photos from the park and the Cascade Steps.

*Some of the less interesting graffiti in the underpasses…*

By the time we got back down the Cascade Steps, Bill and I were both really tired, a bit hungry, sore, and ready for beer. I started looking for places to go. We rejected the Mexican place that served Paulaner beers, because going in there meant climbing steps. 😉 We crossed the street and I looked to my left, where I saw a beautiful young woman with long dark hair. She was smiling and welcoming. At the same time, Bill noticed a sign that read, “You look hungry. We should drink.” Alright, then.

I looked at the young woman and said, “I really need a beer.”

She enthusiastically waved us inside, and we sat down at a table in the middle of the foyer. I discovered that we were dining at Food Industry, a restaurant I hope we can visit again if and when we visit Yerevan next time. We ordered beer and salads, which were absolutely beautifully presented. This is one thing I’ve noticed about Armenia– food presentation is usually exquisite and artistic. Even if the food itself doesn’t taste good, it will be served with style. In this case, the food was both beautifully presented, and tasted really good. And the beer was a real morale booster after the few miles of walking and climbing we did. Maybe it’s not a lot for younger, fitter people, but for us, it was a great achievement and worth celebratory libations.

After we finished our salads, Bill was trying to dislodge some food from between two teeth. The very attentive manager noticed and had toothpicks delivered to our table. I thought it was sugar and put it on the table next to us, where a lady was drinking coffee. But then Bill said they were toothpicks and praised the manager’s attention to detail.

The manager noticed I was speaking Armenian, so he came over and struck up a conversation. He said his name was Ashot (a fairly common name in Armenia) and welcomed us to his restaurant. When I explained I had lived in Armenia 26 years ago and was a teacher, he asked me if I’d been a Peace Corps Volunteer. I said I had. Then he said, I have a friend who works at the Peace Corps office.

And I said, “Is it Stepan?”

He laughed and said, “Yes! I used to work at the restaurant across from the Peace Corps office and he often came in for lunch. We became friends!”

I said, “Well, I was Stepan’s teacher back in the 90s. He was in my ninth form English class.”

Ashot got very excited and gave us complimentary pastries! We talked a little about schools in Yerevan. Ashot told us his brother had gone to a Russian school in Armenia and could speak Russian with no accent at all. He said he’d gone to an Armenian school. The school where I taught had been an English specialized school. I noticed that Ashot wrinkled his nose when the subject of Russia came up. I sense that many Armenians are quite irritated with Russia right now. I can’t blame them.

Anyway, for many valid reasons, Stepan is a very good person to know… but in Yerevan, he’s very well known indeed! I have a tendency to run into people anyway. Over the years, I’ve run into many people I either knew years ago, or people who know people I know. These kinds of meetings happen to me pretty consistently. I don’t know if other people have this knack, but I sure do… On the other hand, I think Stepan is simply one of those people who has a lot of magnetism. I would not be the least bit surprised if, someday, he’s famous.

As we were paying the check and leaving a tip, I told Ashot that I thought he should commend the waitress who welcomed us to his restaurant. It was because of her smile, warmth, and encouragement that we stopped by Food Industry for refreshment. I used to be a waitress myself, so I know how tough the job can be. I hope he passed on my compliment to her… and the tip, as her shift ended before we were finished. Kudos to her for still smiling at the end of her shift!

The salads were large enough that we didn’t really need to eat anything else at a restaurant that evening. We went back to the hotel and relaxed with more Armenian wine and light snacks, including the lovely pastries Ashot gifted us, and a huge fruit plate that was sent to us by someone mysterious (I think I know who). I really felt like I’d come home to family. Armenian hospitality is LEGENDARY!

caves, Champagne Bucket trips, churches

Garni, Geghard, and good friends… part three of our Armenian adventure!

After our first breakfast in the rooftop restaurant at Paris Hotel Yerevan, Bill and I decided to take our first walk around Republic Square. Stepan had already contacted me to let me know that he and his daughter wanted to take us to Garni and Geghard, and then out for khorovatz (Armenian BBQ). I was excited about the prospect of visiting Garni and Geghard, as they are places that anyone who comes to Armenia should see. In fact, I believe they were the first places my group visited when we arrived in 1995. I was also VERY excited about the prospect of having Armenian BBQ, because it is delicious, and not that easy to find if you’re not in the country.

As we strolled around Republic Square (Հանրապետության հրապարակ, Hanrapetut′yan hraparak), which is considered the center of Yerevan, I pointed out to Bill places of interest. There was Hotel Armenia/the Marriott, which takes up one corner of the square. On the side of the building is a bank, that was once Midland Bank out of the United Kingdom. I remember that was where the very first ATM machine in the country was installed. Midland Bank is now long gone, but there’s still an ATM there. Bill made use of it and got his first Armenian drams.

Even the money has changed since my days as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Back then, drams looked a little like Monopoly money. I remember hearing horror stories about how in late November 1993, when the dram became Armenia’s legal tender, Peace Corps Volunteers were receiving it as their pay, along with dollars that were supposed to be for “vacation”. The A 1s said that no one wanted to accept the drams. The locals wanted dollars or roubles. Consequently, many of the ones in that very scrappy first Peace Corps/Armenia group had trouble buying what they needed. In 1995, drams were accepted, but people still preferred getting paid in stronger currencies.

I remember paying my rent in US dollars, and having to pay the conversion fee… which I could ill afford. Today, drams are fine, and I didn’t notice anyone asking for euros or dollars in lieu of drams. In fact, while I did see some conversion offices, there weren’t nearly as many there last week as there were when I was a PCV. If you’d like to see how the drams have changed in appearance since the 90s, click here. As you can see, the look of the money has changed twice since the original drams came out in November 1993. I am most familiar with the 1993 version of Armenian drams.

*Two different versions of 1000 dram notes. The purple one is the more recent version. Both kinds are circulating now.*

Below is actual Armenian money that I brought home after I finished my Peace Corps service. I was pretty good at spending it all, back then. 600 Armenian drams equates to about $1.50. The coin is worth 10 drams, which in the 90s was useful for paying about 1/3 of a metro fare. It was 30 drams to ride the metro when I left in 1997– an increase from 20 drams when we arrived in 1995. Today, it costs 100 drams to ride the metro, which is still pretty damned CHEAP! That fare covers all ten stations, although you have to pay each time you ride. I did have to laugh when Bill asked me if there were “zones”. No… the Yerevan Metro only offers ten stations, but the metro covers a pretty good swath of the city.

When we were in Armenia last week, I noticed that both the second and third versions of drams are still circulating. They’re also using coins a lot more now. When I was living there, Armenian lumas (coins worth less than one dram) were basically worthless. But now, it looks like they’ve done away with lumas and now have coins worth between 10 and 500 drams. 500 drams used to be one of the highest denominations in dram bank notes! By the time I left in 1997, the 5000 dram notes were brand new. Now the notes go up to 100,000 drams.

As of today, one Armenian dram is equivalent to .0023 euro or .0025 US dollar. One dollar is equal to about 401 Armenian drams. When I lived in Armenia, one dollar bought between 400 and 500 drams. The values constantly fluctuated, and some conversion offices offered better rates than others.

After Bill got some new Armenian drams, we crossed the street. I pointed out where Lenin’s statue used to stand, overlooking the square. By the time of our 1995 arrival, Lenin’s statue had already been removed, but the base was still there. I believe I have a picture of it in my scrapbook, which is unfortunately in storage in Texas. I distinctly remember that there was a Soviet Union flag on the bottom of it. Not long after our arrival, the pedestal was removed. Today, there are beautiful flowers planted there. Stepan told me that Lenin’s statue is still being stored in the National Assembly building near Republic Square. I heard that in the 90s, too. It’s probably true. I would expect the Armenians to move Lenin to a museum at some point. I mean, that’s what I would do, if it were up to me. 😀 On the other hand, I’ve seen evidence that the statue has been beheaded.

You can see the Soviet flag at the bottom of the old Lenin statue on this postcard. I have a picture of that somewhere in storage. Lenin himself was gone by the time we arrived in 1995. Someone gifted me a pack of Soviet era postcards when I was a Volunteer. I had no concept of how priceless they would end up being to me.

This is a photo of Lenin’s statue being removed in the 1990s. The image was made available in Creative Commons. Special thanks to user Technetium for making this unaltered image free to use.

Next, I pointed out a post office where Volunteers were picking up their mail after we lost Diplomatic Pouch privileges. Back in the 90s, Armenian mail was so unreliable that the powers that be at the US Embassy in Yerevan let us PCVs use the Diplomatic Pouch to send and receive mail. That went on from the beginning of Peace Corps/Armenia’s existence, until a couple of months before I left. I remember my mom sent me a box and I picked it up at that post office… the postage cost more than the contents of the box! I also remember that people could order long distance phone calls at that post office, although I never had to do that. I had a credit card that I could use from my home phones, all of which were rotary dial models! Back then, it was easier to call the United States than certain places in Yerevan, like my school. But now, pretty much everyone has a cell phone or a computer, and now phone call problems “ch’ga” (ch’ga= there aren’t).

We continued walking around Republic Square. I pointed out the huge empty fountains near the National Gallery of Armenia. I told Bill about how, back in the hot summer days of my time in Armenia, it was common to see boys in their underwear, playing in the fountains. I never or very rarely saw girls in the fountains. It was always boys in their undergarments! They were completely unabashed, too. I always wondered how much pee was in the fountains whenever I saw kids playing in them! I don’t think we saw any fountains that were actually working last week. Even in the 90s, that was a rather occasional thing. Sometimes, they worked, and other times, they were kept empty.

I looked at my watch and realized we needed to get back to the hotel to meet Stepan. So we made our way back, and passed several old guys sitting on a bench on the corner of Amiryan Street. They were trying to get people to go on one of their day tours, and they had a lot of competition. A whole bunch of people with cars and vans were offering to take tourists to the biggest tourist attractions on Armenia. That was a change from the 90s, when a lot of drivers would hang out at the Aftogayan (bus station), or at certain other established places around the city. I was a little tempted to book a tour, but there were too many places in Yerevan that I wanted to see and show Bill. I knew we’d be walking, and it would take a lot of time. So we ignored the guys on the bench… and every time we passed them, one of the guys seemed to notice me and my platinum hair. He almost always made a sassy comment, which made me laugh.

We waited in the hotel lobby for Stepan, and I struck up a conversation with a very handsome clerk with striking green eyes. I had seen those eyes before in Armenia, but they always startle me. A lot of Armenians have black or dark brown hair and brown eyes. But some of them have this very unique, exotic look, and this hotel clerk was one of those lucky folks. I think his name was Koriuyn, and he spoke excellent English. He asked me why I knew any Armenian, and I explained that I had lived in Armenia and taught children English. I added, I was probably living there before he was born.

Koriuyn confirmed that. He said, “I was born in 2001.”

I laughed and said, “Then I was speaking Armenian before you were! You were a spark in your father’s eyes when I was living here.” And again, I had to comment on how much some things had changed.

Stepan then arrived with his lovely 17 year old daughter, Susi, whose English is impeccable and almost without a trace of an accent. Susi spent a year studying in an American high school. She was a lucky recipient of a FLEX scholarship (Future Leaders Exchange Program — AC Armenia), which is a program sponsored by the US government and offered in a number of developing countries. Susi lived in Washington State, and was hosted by Returned Peace Corps Armenia Volunteers. How lucky is that?

I got a big kick out of Susi, because the first thing she did was offer me a hug, after adding “Or are you not a hugger?” That is such an American thing to say! She was clearly excited to meet us, and was happy to trade stories with me, in particular, as we made our way to Geghard and Garni. As we drove out there, I was looking around the city, noticing again how developed it was, even though there are still many buildings in disrepair.

We even passed Yerevan’s waterpark, Water World, unthinkable in the 90s because of the energy crisis. I had read about the waterpark, but was still shocked it existed. It’s located right by a major highway, making it easy to spot. When we passed it, I said “That looks like a nightmare!” It appeared to be drained and maybe not very clean or safe. Susi said she hadn’t been there in a long time. Trip Advisor reviews confirm that it may be a bit of a “nightmare”.

We also passed what appeared to be a butcher shop. They had a pen that was packed with sheep, and as we drove by, I could see that there was a recently butchered sheep hanging there in plain view, thanks to an open door. The sight made me feel a little queasy and sad, although I understand that if you want to enjoy eating lamb or mutton, you have to kill one first.

I am definitely not a vegetarian myself, although I really admire people who don’t eat meat. Maybe this display is the better way to do things… and remind people that this is the stark reality behind eating meat. That wasn’t as shocking to me as the time I saw a pig’s head in a shop in Greece, and at least we were in car, so we passed quickly. I don’t eat lamb or mutton, so those poor sheep were safe from me. I should mention that some Armenians will buy a lamb to sacrifice at the church before a special occasion, such as a wedding. I remember seeing that the second time I visited.

Soon we arrived at Geghard, a cave monastery founded in the 4th century by Gregory the Illuminator, and Stepan bought an “Armenian Snickers”, which was really a chewy Churchkhela– a snack made with walnuts, grape must, and flour. Then we went into the church, where there was someone being baptized, and a couple getting married. Bill lit candles for his father, my father, and his Aunt Betsy. Susi covered her hair in local tradition, and I took many photos of the beautiful monastery built into a mountain side.

The main chapel was built in 1215, but the actual place has been sacred for many centuries, starting from where Gregory the Illuminator found a spring in the cave where the monastery began. Below are some photos of the area near the church. Lots of people are selling souvenirs and food. Stepan bought some absolutely delicious, fresh, sweet bread during our visit. I can’t remember what it was called, but it was so good! I never had it when I lived in Armenia, so that alone was worth the trip. I can also report that both Garni and Geghard have public WCs, and the one at Geghard is clean and well tended by a “Klofrau” (German word for toilet woman– I’m sure there’s an Armenian equivalent term that I don’t know) who takes 100 dram per visit.

This was my third visit to Geghard, and I remembered there is a “singing room” there. It has fantastic acoustics. On my previous visits, I was encouraged to actually sing in the singing room. I didn’t do that this last time, because I wasn’t there with a large group, and there were actual religious ordinances going on. Instead, I wandered from room to room, enjoying the incredible sights of this ancient place. Armenia has a lot of very old and ancient sites that beg to be explored. Below are some photos of Geghard. I want to mention the little water fountain in the photos. Those water fountains, called Pulpulaks, can be found all over Armenia, and they are very welcome in the summer, especially when it’s extremely hot outside. Armenia, as a rule, does get very hot in the summer.

*The sacred spring that started it all!*

From Geghard, we moved on to Garni Temple, which is a very interesting Greco-Roman colonnaded building close to Geghard. It is the only standing temple of its kind in Armenia, as well as the former Soviet Union. Some scholars believe that Garni is a tomb, rather than a temple, and that’s why it’s still standing. Garni actually collapsed in 1679, thanks to an earthquake. But it was reconstructed between 1969 and 1975. Now, people pay to visit. I have never heard of anyone visiting either Geghard or Garni alone, although I’m sure some people do that. The two sites aren’t related to each other, except that they are closeby, so people tend to see both on the same day. As you can see, there was a bride and groom there during our visit, taking some iconic photos. Below is my ticket to Garni…

Below are some photos from Garni…

Finally, after we visited Garni, we headed to a local restaurant for khorovatz, which were absolutely delicious! Stepan ordered the best for us, and we enjoyed a view of Garni from the restaurant’s windows. Stepan told us that the restaurant is hard to visit in the summer because many people have wedding receptions there. I could see why. The food was amazing; the service kind and professional; and there is plenty of room for dancing.

*Lavash, cheese, and vegetables… Absolutely “hamov e” (tasty)!*

On the way back to Yerevan, we stopped by Ruben Sevak School #151, where I taught English for two years, and where Stepan and I met. He was in my 9th form class when he was 15 years old, and already spoke excellent English even then. The front door of the school was open, so we walked in. The “guards” showed up a few minutes later, and Stepan explained that he’d wanted to show me the school, since I used to teach there. The guards– friendly men– said “Hamet sek” (Come on in!), and we had a look around. I got a few photos of that, too… I love how warm and welcoming Armenians are. Stepan and I reminisced about the female guard who lived at the school when we were there. She was very strict, and wouldn’t let kids leave during the day. Consequently, a couple of students, including one in our 9th form class, would just jump out a window to escape. That actually happened once while I was teaching that class. It was a shocker!

Below are photos from Ruben Sevak School #151, circa 2023!

I remembered Ruben Sevak School well, and although there have been a few improvements, the place hasn’t changed much at all. Stepan explained that it’s now a “basic school”. Ruben Sevak school used to handle children in first through tenth form, which was when pupils graduated (age 16). But now, Armenian youngsters go to high school after 9th grade (they now call the levels “grades”, instead of the more British term “forms”). Armenian school now ends at 12th grade. Stepan also told me that now, all Armenian children are taught how to play chess. It’s an actual subject in school, starting very early. Stepan’s son is a champion chess player. I remember in 1996, Yerevan hosted the Chess Olympics. I wish I had my scrapbooks, so I could share my photos of signs advertising the event, which was held at the Sports Complex, right across from where I lived during my second year.

If you’d like to know more about who Ruben Sevak was, please follow this link to a post I wrote about him in 2021. I got to meet his daughter when she visited the school. She was in her 80s at the time. I think it’s very fitting that I got to work in the school that was named after Ruben Sevak, given where I live now. 😉

Well, this post is way too long, so I’m going to end it now. I will continue the saga of our Armenian adventures in the next post.

Champagne Bucket trips

Airplane rides to Armenia… part two of our Armenian adventure!

Friday, November 10th was the big day we’d been waiting for since September. I chose that date because I wanted to have an extra Saturday in Armenia. I had big aspirations of finding new art for our home, and I knew that the Vernissage would have more people there on the weekend than during the week. It also turned out that Stepan had a work project he had to attend to over this past weekend, so it was a lucky thing that we opted to leave on the 10th.

Right now, Bill and I have the good fortune of living in Germany, which makes getting to Armenia comparatively easy. One can fly directly to Yerevan from several European cities, including Frankfurt, which is just 20 minutes or so from where we live. However, Lufthansa currently only offers direct flights from Frankfurt to Yerevan once a week. If we wanted to fly there directly from Frankfurt, we’d have to leave on Saturday, the 11th. So we flew to Vienna on Friday night, enjoyed a few hours in the Lufthansa lounge, then flew Austrian Airlines to Yerevan. That was an interesting experience!

It wasn’t the first time we’d flown on Austrian Airlines. When we lived in the Stuttgart area, we’d had layovers that involved flying on Austrian and Swiss Airlines, as they are code shared with Lufthansa. It had been several years since our last experience with Austrian Airlines, but I did remember that all the ladies working for them wore bright red tights!

Since we were in business class, we got a somewhat elaborate dinner service… for being on an airplane, that is. They brought out “tablecloths” for our tray tables. The food was relatively decent, too. Below are a few photos from our visits to the Lufthansa lounge in Frankfurt and the Austrian Airlines lounge in Vienna. You’ll notice a certain theme… Free beer and wine is a nice perk of flying business. Of course, it’s not really “free”, is it? Our usual lounge in the Frankfurt airport was closed, so we had to go to a different one. It was pretty busy! Travel is definitely back in full swing, post pandemic.

I was very excited in Vienna when we went to our gate. After 26 years, I was finally going to Armenia, and it was a treat to hear the language again. I looked around at the other passengers, many of whom looked like they might have been coming from the United States. I also saw a few Americans, at least one of whom was traveling with an Armenian. I wondered if any of them were fellow RPCVs… or maybe even a current PCV. One American guy must have noticed our blue passports, because he came up and asked us in English if we were in line.

Then we were called up to the desk by the Austrian Airlines rep, a pretty young woman wearing a bright red Austrian Airlines approved hijab. She told us that she needed more information. I wasn’t surprised, since Lufthansa’s Web site hadn’t let me properly fill out our profiles. We handed over our passports, and she took care of it quickly. Soon, we were on our way.

*Lufthansa’s offerings on the way to Vienna.*

We enjoyed an uneventful 3.5 hour flight to Yerevan, making our landing at 4:40 AM. Before we left Germany, Stepan sent me a private message asking for our flight details. I had never managed to get ahold of our hotel before we arrived, so he called them for us to ask about hotel transfers. Then he decided he’d just pick us up, which was very kind and generous of him! Stepan is the bomb for doing that for us! շնորհակալություն, Stepan jan!

I braced myself on arrival to Armenia, remembering what it was like to arrive in Yerevan via Paris, France in June 1995. At that time, the old Soviet era airport was still operating. I remember getting there at about 3:30 AM, and there being very few lights anywhere. Our flight was courtesy of the now defunct Armenian Airlines, which was still flying 70s vintage Soviet planes.

My 1995 Peace Corps flights were my first flights anywhere since I’d moved home from England with my family in 1978. Whenever my parents traveled by air after that, they left me at home with my sisters or a housesitter. So while the United Airlines flight to Paris was more modern, the Armenian Airlines flight was a lot like what I’d remembered from my last flight from the 70s.

Looking around that Armenian Airlines plane, it really felt a lot like 1978, complete with people smoking the whole time and standing in the aisle. The day prior, we had flown from Washington, DC to Paris, and then spent twelve hours in Paris. Actually, I stayed in the airport for twelve hours, while braver and better traveled souls went into the city. I was in a pretty exhausted, frazzled state by the time I first laid eyes on Yerevan in 1995. I left Charles De Gaulle airport swearing off another visit to Paris… Of course, I have since learned that one should never judge a place or its people by its airport(s). I love Paris, now.

When my Peace Corps group got off the Armenian Airlines plane in 1995, we got off on the tarmac, and then walked through an old, dimly lit office, which I guess was passport control. I remember the airport itself was crumbling a bit, and there were few lights on in the terminal. The restrooms were a nightmare. You could smell them much easier than you could see them. If you’d like to see some photos of the airport, click here. It didn’t look nearly that bad in 1995, of course… but those pictures do bring back some vivid memories.

Volunteers from A2 (the second Peace Corps Armenia group) had come to greet us, and were passing snacks over a barrier. It took about three hours for our group of 32 to get all of our luggage because the airport lacked the modern equipment to unload the aircraft expeditiously. Then we all had to get through customs. I remember we were all loaded on a bus with curtains on the windows several hours later. I think it was about 8:00 AM when we finally got out of the airport. I remember staring at the half built buildings in the area near the airport, people’s laundry billowing from their balconies. The landscape was so different. I could see Mount Ararat, as it was a bright, sunny day with relatively low air pollution.

*CP53N6 Armenia – Yerevan – Piazza della Repubblica. Hotel Armenia.* *Photo licensed by Alamy.*

*This is a photo of Republic Square the way I remembered it in 1995. Hotel Armenia is in the background.*

*CP529N Armenia twentieth century nineties – Yerevan – Piazza della Repubblica. Hotel Armenia. Photo licensed by Alamy.*

*Another look at Hotel Armenia in the 90s. This is exactly how I remembered it. The signs on the roof are now long gone.*

Our group soon arrived at what was then Hotel Armenia, and is now the Marriott in Republic Square. We had a brief meeting with our training director; then we were allowed to go to our rooms on the less expensive “old side” of the hotel. I remember the rooms were very Soviet, with no hot water except in the early hours of the day, twin beds with wool blankets, and linoleum floors. There were ladies in uniforms there who “guarded” the halls and made sure we turned in our keys before we ventured out anywhere.

I remember chandeliers in the conference room, with long tables that had bottles of sparkling Jermuk mineral water, Pepsi, and juice. I distinctly remember thinking the water tasted like Alka Seltzer… and so did the Pepsi, which probably came from a Russian bottler. The chandeliers only had a few light bulbs in them. We were presented with borscht and smoked fish… and I remember a lot of sour cream, which I don’t really eat. I wondered what in the world I had gotten myself into.

By contrast, in 2023, getting out of the much newer airport was a breeze. We went to passport control, where a rather dour man asked me if it was my first time in Armenia. I smiled and said, “No. I used to live here.”

The passport guy was obviously not as excited as I was. He gave my passport an aggressive stamping as he grunted a disinterested welcome and sent me on my way. Bill and I rounded a corner, where our bags were already waiting for us. I could feel the excitement welling as we walked out of the secure area. There was a small group of Armenian men standing there, obviously waiting for new arrivals. Some of them held up signs.

Then I saw him… Stepan jan was there, holding a huge bouquet of flowers and wearing an ear to ear smile! We were easy to spot, especially since my hair has turned platinum blonde in my middle age years.

“Jenny Jan!” he exclaimed as he handed me the flowers.

I let out an emotional cry as we shared a warm embrace. The Armenian men loitering in the arrivals hall kind of stared at us curiously. It was obvious Stepan and I were very excited to see each other, and they probably wondered why… I’m clearly not a local!

The scene kind of reminded me of when Bill came home from the Iraq War in 2007. I had come to what used to be called National Airport in Northern Virginia to pick him up, and I will never forget how he came charging toward me, still in his ACUs (uniform), walking just behind his narcissistic war boss from Hell. Bill almost knocked me over with a huge hug, so relieved was he to be done with that particular patriotic chore. Bill and I shared a kiss and a long hug, and people looked on, smiling at the scene that was unfolding. It was like a movie moment.

*Totally goofy picture of me at 5:00 AM, holding the beautiful flowers Stepan brought for me. Yes, I was happy! And yes, I needed a shower and sleep.*

Think of our first meeting with Stepan as kind of like a much less romantic version of meeting Bill, as he came home from war. It was dramatic and exciting, but also kind of heartwarming and sweet. I remembered Stepan as a 15 year old kid, and I’m sure he remembered the 24 year old version of me. Now, we’re both a lot older… but Stepan graciously said, “You didn’t change!” And neither did he!

Stepan took my bags and we ran into Naira, the Peace Corps doctor, who had come to the airport to see off her brother. We said hello to her, and Stepan loaded our bags into his car. We chattered excitedly as we headed to the Paris Hotel in Yerevan. It’s located on Amiryan Street, very close to Republic Square and just steps away from Hotel Armenia/Marriott.

I remember being flabbergasted by the drive into the city, as everything was lit up. I can’t belabor this point enough… in 1995, there was an energy crisis in Armenia, so there were very few lights then, even on the streets. By contrast, in 2023, Yerevan is a city that doesn’t really sleep. There are a number of businesses that operate 24 hours. Bars and restaurants stay open late. And there are colorful lights everywhere!

A smiling man was waiting to welcome us at Paris Hotel Yerevan. He spoke excellent English. I had made the mistake of not booking our room for the 10th, which would have allowed us to check in immediately upon arrival. Or, maybe it was Expedia.com’s doing, since we weren’t technically arriving until the 11th. Our deluxe king room wasn’t ready for us to check in early, but they did have a lower grade room available. Bill and I agreed to that arrangement, since we were both so tired.

When Bill went to pay, the transaction failed. Stepan paid for the temporary room with his card, and after a chilly shower, we gratefully went to bed. We later learned that the transaction failed because of the WiFi system. Once we learned to use the chip on our credit cards, we had fewer problems with failed transactions. I think the room they gave us was one the hotel staff uses for situations like ours. Its condition was not nearly as good as the room we’d booked and moved to later that afternoon. But honestly, we were both so tired, we didn’t care. Below are pictures of our temporary digs. The room was fine for what we needed it for.

A few hours later, we got up for breakfast in the hotel, which is included in the rate. Paris Hotel has a great spread in their rooftop restaurant, Montmartre, which as you can see in the above photos, is also beautifully decorated. I enjoyed the relaxing jazz music that played as we enjoyed views of Yerevan. Yes, I still recognized it, as there are still a number of familiar Soviet style buildings and cranes in the landscape. Mount Ararat was tucked behind the clouds. It was so great to be back!

Stepan had said he wanted to take us to Garni and Geghard, a place that everyone who visits Armenia should see at least once… More on that in the next post!

The Traveling Overeducated Housewife

…the wanderings and ramblings of a boring housewife…

Tag Archives: Yerevan

Ten things I learned this time in Armenia!

The journey back to Germany… part eleven of our Armenian adventure!

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

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

Pictures from our 21st anniversary… part eight of our Armenian adventure!

Rainy Wednesday at the Vernissage, and a meaningful chat with a waitress… part seven of our Armenian adventure!

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

It really pays to know Stepan if you’re in Yerevan… part five of our Armenian adventure!

Garni, Geghard, and good friends… part three of our Armenian adventure!

Airplane rides to Armenia… part two of our Armenian adventure!