Skiing!

Nancy's Visit

Sauna!!!!!

My mom Nancy came to visit for just about a week, the second week in January. She got off the plane from a twenty hour commute excited and bursting with energy. It was midnight when we got to the hotel, and I figured she’d want to go right to bed, but when I told her some other volunteers were hanging out nearby she said she’d love to meet them. We taxied over there and had a great time discussing Armenia and the world, Nancy was bursting with questions and I know my friends had a great time meeting her.

She was like this the whole week, and as far as I saw never missed a beat from start to finish. I was amazed at her energy and eagerness to meet everyone and soak up as much of Armenia as a week can allow!


The first day we traveled by a packed bus to Echmiadzin, the seat of the Armenian Church. We chanced to get out at Hripsime, a huge and beautiful monastery a couple kilometers outside of the center. We talked with a kind veteran outside, who was shoveling the new crust of snow off the great stone courtyard. He told us the monastery was built in the 7th century, that he works there part time as a caretaker, and that they hold services every sunday and holiday. "But most people don’t come here," he said. "If you want to see the crowds, they’re down at Mayr Ator" (the Mother Seat).


Past the intricately carved door, the stark stone walls reached upwards to a huge dome in the center of the structure. A few trays with burning candles and a few paintings of Mary and Jesus decorated the room, drawing the eye toward paintings of saints on the side of the raised platform that formed the altar. We spoke some with the nuns in attendance, lit some candles with prayers and viewed the ancient doors and the grave of Hripsime in a tiny room under the altar.


Hripsime was a wonderful first, peaceful look at an Armenian church. Next we walked the main street past a Genocide memorial and down to the center of Echmiadzin, where the Seminary, Libraries, and the Mother Seat rest. The buildings were wonderful, with great domes or gates, and we saw priests-to-be with their beards and black robes, books held in hand, chatting and walking around the grounds. We turned and found what looked like the central church standing in a square surrounded by creatively manicured trees.


Mayr Ator was similar to a regular church on the outside, but in the archways we saw a hint of things to come: stone faces of angels carved and painted on the entrance arches, with no bodies and surrounded only by six wings. Inside, the walls, archways, the magnificent dome, were all plastered and beautifully painted. Chandeliers, huge paintings of events in the life of Jesus, and those swinging incense holders hung everywhere, a grand display. The original stone could only be seen in a couple of places where a neat square of plaster was missing from the wall, revealing the rough stone underneath, carved with crosses. We met a priest who knew some English and who, after answering a few questions and explaining that the paintings were four hundred years old, blessed us both in rapid Armenian.

We headed to Martuni that day, and, true to form, we boarded a marshutni (public van) that spent an hour waiting for passengers that never came before heading out for Martuni. We got in late and ate with my host family. We had a great time that night and the next, eating, talking, singing songs, showing pictures of the farm and talking about canning vegetables. In Armenia vegetables and fruits are much cheaper in the summer months, so everyone preserves pickled veggies and mouraba (there are a dozen kinds of this delicious, syrupy jam) Nancy found that their methods for canning were a bit different, less labor intensive than hers, and she took notes!

She had a great time talking with Sona, whose English has greatly improved in the past six months and who was very excited to meet her.

Sona, Artak, Camo, Nancy, Lala, Alla, Anna

Next we headed to Gyulagarak, the village in Lori Marz where I lived this summer. We visited my family, headed by Garnik, the school principal, who loves to talk as much as Nancy does. They had a great, animated discussion, with their trusty translator, of course. Nancy speaks very well with her hands and expressions, and so Garnik would every so often turn to me and say "Let me translate!" and explain to me what she said. Sometimes he missed it, but more often he was dead on. His wife Marietta, his sons Hayk, Hovik, and Karen, as well as Diana, Lucine, Sirushik, and the little ones Narek, Maretik, (little) Garnik, and Yerevandik, all gathered around and talked and played and did somersaults on the rug for our enjoyment.


After a day of food and drink, and a walk around the village, we headed to Gyumri, and when I told my friend Scott we were coming in for lunch the troops rallied for a grand reception. Gyumri is the second biggest city in Armenia. There are eight volunteers living there now, and a handful more were visiting for birthday parties at the time, including Johanna, who lives just outside Martuni but who we had missed on our visit. So we met about a dozen folks for lunch at a pizza place in Gyumri. Nancy chatted it up, we drank Gyumri beer, and ate a pizza she ordered which was topped with a thick layer of peas. Weird, but not bad. We got info from our friends on how to get up to Ashotsk, where the Olympians live.


We took a beat up old cab up the steep roads and into the mountains to Ashotsk, a tiny town in the coldest spot in Armenia. When we finally found their place near the hospital, Artur Mikaelyan greeted us in his sports suit and hat with a warm smile. He welcomed us and said: "It was 40 below last night." And it wasn’t too much warmer when we arrived. Artur’s father was Armenian, his mother is German, and his wife Alla is Russian. They both skied in the Nagano Olympics in 1998, and they run the only cross-country ski bed and breakfast in Armenia. They have two great kids, Sergei (15, a dark-haired, shy, lanky fellow) and Mika (8 years old, blond and beautiful). We settled in, had tea and delicious little pastries and blackberry jam with Alla, and then we headed out to ski! Luckily we brought our warm clothes, because it didn’t get much above zero F when we were there. But we kept moving and kept warm with the Olympians on our heels!


I had heard that the Mikaelyans were different from most Armenians. Health is their life: they don’t drink, they don’t smoke -- this in a country where eighty percent of men do both. They exercise every day and teach the local ski team, the best in Armenia. They don’t take any conventional medicine; they rely on home remedies using dozens of native plants and herbs for everything from muscle aches to the flu. Alla cooked for our two night stay; the food was delicious and very wholesome. Homemade wheat bread, borscht, meat, beet salad, cheese, herbal tea, all delicious and fresh. Nancy had a great time chatting with Alla, who speaks some English, about recipes for her delicious rosehip juice and jams.

Nancy and Mika leading -- Jason can't keep up!

On our second day we trekked up out of the valley with its frigid layer of fog and up onto a ridge, where the sun warmed us and views of the surrounding hills and mountains opened before our eyes. Alla and Mika trekked up with us and we had a great time laying tracks. The Mikaelyans do summer adventures, too, with small fleets of both canoes and mountain bikes at guests’ disposal. Artur showed us pictures, and the whole affair looks great. These folks run the only place of its kind that I know of in Armenia, and their food and care for guests is extraordinary. Artur wants to build a small guest house and expand their operation, and I’d love to help them out in any way I can, even if only to help get the word out.

Artur and Jason

We left the next day, healthy and happy, for Yerevan. We spent two nights in Yerevan at a very nice hotel called the Bass. We saw the Armenian History Museum, the Genocide Memorial, and the Matenadaran or Manuscript Museum which had fascinating texts from love poetry to scriptures, many beautifully decorated, showing the history of Armenian literature and scholarship since the alphabet was compiled in 405 AD by Mesrob Mashtots. We also had the chance to meet one of my language teachers from this summer, Meri Arakelyan. We ate with her at a new and awesome Indian place in Yerevan, and went out for karaoke afterwards!


It was a great, exhausting week. I had no idea how much work it is to be a translator! Thanks for coming, Mom! Myself, my friends and family here were all very happy to see you, and I’m thrilled you got to have a taste of Armenia. Everyone told her while she was here that she must come in the summer, in August, when it’s warm, green, and beautiful, and when the apricots are ripe! With all the farm work I know she won’t make it then, but we’ll leave that trip to Dad and Laura (and everyone else is welcome too!)

Christmas

This Christmas, a marine friend of ours organized a toy drive at the US Embassy, planning to distribute the toys with help from some volunteers. David and I were lucky enough to receive all the toys from this drive for the mancapartes (pre-schools) of Martuni; there are four. We thought there would be a couple dozen employees at the embassy -- turns out there are about eighty, and the toys the marine brought washed into David’s tiny apartment like a tide. There were hundreds of stuffed animals, toy cars, puzzles, games, robots, nerf bow-and-arrows, you name it, covering the beds, the couch, the table, piled in huge boxes on the floor. The marine promptly left, didn’t want to see the schools or participate in the event, I guess. David and I sorted it all into four parts, and the next day set out with our friend Johanna and some mechanical assistance for the pre-schools.

This was December 23rd, I think. We made it to all four schools in one day, a marvel considering at each place we watched the kids’ Christmas show complete with costumes, dancing, songs in Armenian, Russian, and even English, and of course an appearance by Dzmer-Papik (Santa) and Dziun Anoush . Dzmer-Papik is literally "Winter-Grandpa", and in Armenia (I imagine this idea is from Russia) there’s no sleigh, no chubby Santa sitting on his ass while the mules do all the work. No, Santa carries a colorful walking stick -- he walks those presents all around the world on his own two feet. His sidekick is Dziun Anoush, a beautiful snow fairy (Dziun is "snow", and Anoush is a common girl’s name that means "sweet"). The kids’ shows were just great. At some schools the kids dressed up, girls in white, boys in black, and did great choreographed dances and songs and merry speeches. At others, the kids dressed up as all manner of animals and characters, any fairy tale fair game. There were lions and crocodiles, clowns and frogs and even guys with a standard sport coat on but (the Twist!) bright red tinsel for a tie. The pre-schools are bright and colorful, with animals and fairy tales painted all over the place, little beds or mats for napping, and great, lively women taking care of the little ones.

We joined the Mayor, who was also doing the rounds on this last day of school, giving presents to the kids and making speeches to the crowd after the performance ended and the kids filed out. The embassy’s presents that we brought were to be kept by the schools themselves, so that kids could use them at school (and so that the toys wouldn’t just ‘disappear’). Kids spend eight hours a day at school, anyway. After each show we ate and drank at a fully laden table with the school director, a teacher or two, the TV guys who followed the whole escapade, and the Mayor and his clan. We ran back to David’s place in between to haul new loads of toys. It was a great day, exhausting, and wonderful to peek into such a bright part of the Martuni community. I’m sorry our friends at the embassy missed the celebrations, and we can’t thank them enough for their generosity.

These are pictures from a toy drive we did at our school under the auspices of reducing trash. We encouraged kids to bring in their old toys that they don't use anymore and donate them to the local preschool. Then Lala and I went with a group of kids from our eco-club to deliver the toys. As you can see, the Martuni TV station showed up and interviewed Lala, myself, and the kids! What a cool opportunity for them.

Holiday

Hey everyone, I've been assaulted over the past few weeks by the pincer movement of sinus infection and the Armenian New Year Celebration (and as for the latter, it is a DOOSIE). Trapped in the house, wrapped in blankets, forbidden to shower for fear of chilling aftereffects, and yet called to the table every hour for vodka shots with numerous known and unknown family members, our intrepid hero finished Dostoevsky's "The Brothers Karamazov" (incredible, highly recommended), Life of Pi (another great and much quicker read), and fought (or encouraged?) bitterness and apathy by playing hours of ancient sega games on his laptop. We're past the storm now, and what's more, NANCY CHANDLER, that unstoppable weed-picker and soil-digger, flies in this evening. We'll begin a whirlwind tour of Armenia, complete with cross-country skiing and tables, tables laden with bountiful hospitality. Many stories to be told next week, I'm sure. Stay tuned...

Thanksgiving in Dprabak

Dprabak

I took off for Dprabak this weekend, a small refugee village located in a deep, wooded gorge north of Beautiful Lake Sevan. Jessica, an EE volunteer from northern California, has been living there for more than a year. She has a little cabin with electricity (sometimes), a wood stove, and water a manageable walk away. Her cabin is right on the corner of the village, and just a step outside reveals a magnificent gorge, big snowy peaks rising on all sides. The full moon reflecting off new snow fully illuminated a couple of fascinating night hikes.

Jessica, with a pieced-together Khachkar

Dprabak’s used to be called “Chai-kent”, an older, Turkish name. Due to the shifting borders and even more fluid cultural exchanges in and around Armenia, you often have to remember two or even three names for each village you would like to find. Chai-kent was populated by Azeris until around the breakup of the USSR, when Armenian soldiers probably came through and drove them out. The Armenians who live there now are refugees from Azerbaijan who moved in during the war. Many of them have connections in Yerevan or elsewhere in Armenia and, according to Jessica, aren’t really looking to improve the way of life there. Instead they are just staying in Dprabak until they can get out. Illegal logging is by far the easiest and most profitable way to get some quick cash, say for a wedding or an engagement party. With no gas in the village, it is the only way to heat their houses for the cold winter.

the Cabin

We had a great Thanksgiving meal, with two roasted ducks, mashed potatoes, stuffing, veggies, wine, homemade beer, and plenty of pie. Five other volunteers also showed up for the festivities. The first night, Rud made a mulled drink, combination of apples, rosehip juice, wine, vodka, spices, and whatever else he felt like throwing in there. This drink was bubbled on the stove and upon tasting was dubbed “the Mull”, a thick, rich, devastating concoction that reduced even the hardiest members of our group to a mull-ignant and mull-icious haze. The following picture should illustrate its mull-titudinous effects.

Rud (right) and Kevin (who doesn't drink, but in this photo is clearly plastered, proving the mull-contented effects of "second-hand mull")

On Sunday Jessica and I took a walk up to the top of the ridge and down to the old vank (church) between Dprabak and a neighboring village. It is called Dzoravank ("Church of the Gorge"), as is the village that lies below it on the valley floor.

Dzoravank

The picture below shows the vank and another village whose name I forget. See those white mountains in the distance? Over that ridge is Lake Sevan. The plan for this spring is to explore on foot, and this region is high on the list.

I want to send a shout out to all the folks who have been reading and commenting on the blog. It means so much to know that people are reading and enjoying, getting a little window into this world. Questions, comments, new readers? -- send 'em my way.

Thanks so much, everyone! May you all be happy and healthy and be with those you love.

Jason

Dilidjan

Ooh, the internet's working fast today. Here are some pictures from a trip with the other EE volunteers to beatiful Dilidjan in Tavush Marz. We took a walk from Parz Lich ("Clear Lake") to Gosh Monastery, located in a beautiful, green little hillside town which reminded me of northern India.

Enjoy!

Art Show

A couple weeks ago I put a poster up advertising a "Nature-Themed Art Show/Contest". In my clubs that week we collected leaves and berries from around the school and pasted them on paper, like so...


Before I knew it, submissions were flowing in. We received seventy-seven (77) pieces of art in the following two weeks. The quality of some of them just blew me away, and they were all from fifth through ninth graders.
We had a three day exhibition in a spare classroom, and the kids and teachers could vote on their favorite pieces. The response was incredible -- I think most of the six hundred kids of the school came in, looking, pointing, laughing, voting. They were so excited about shouting out their choice that even after the voting was closed they would shout at me: "I'm number 37! I'm number 6!" I was like, "That's great, good job."

I kept the kids in suspense for about a week as I went to Yerevan for the annual All-Volunteer Conference, and where I bought prizes for the winners. A friend Stepan owns a tiny print/copy shop on the main street in Martuni and we were able to make some nice certificates. With the school director's signature and stamp they were positively official!

The kids got so excited about the whole deal -- I was amazed by the art, the enthusiasm, everything, and the teachers loved it too. I'm thinking of taking the show on the road to other PCV's schools, bringing the winning pictures plus some others such as the one above that really represent Martuni's environment and environmental issues.

The picture above depicts a tree that was planted by the Soviets close to the shore of the shrunken Lake Sevan. A huge amount of Lake Sevan was drained in the 1930s and 40s, ostensibly for the purpose of turning its surrounding wetlands into pasture land. They realized by the 50s that their actions were disastrous for the water quality of the lake and caused an immense loss of wetland habitat for the once enormous diversity of migratory birds who made Lake Sevan their home. Today the lake is rising again, which environmentalists think is a good thing, but the rise is mitigated by the lakeside Soviet forests and by the numerous "rest houses" that have been built right up to the edge of the smaller lake.

The environmental problems in Armenia are not small, and won't be easy to improve, but perhaps a population of active, interested students can make a difference. Also, if we can model and propagate creative teaching methods that encourage free thought and community action, we just might see some change around here.