Life in Armenia

I think some great musician of our time said it well . . . . "What a long, strange trip it's been." Watched a film last night about the Armenian genocide, "Ararat." I look out the window at the remains of a once elegant city, once rich with arts and artisan, now 22 years since an earthquake devastated it and left 50,000 dead in the region. I visited the remains of a 1,000-year-old church a few days ago. Those ruins are "scenic"; the more recent ruins outside the window are not. Such suffering, such a terrible scar on the Armenian soul to carry forward. And here they are still, stuck in the remnants of the homeland they love dearly and can't get away from.

The father from the host family I stayed with last summer in Arzakan (and just visited a week ago) stopped by (well, stopped by is stretching it - he lives 3 hours away) a few nights ago at 11pm to remind me to please let PC know that they are a great host family and that they'd really like to be a host family again this coming summer. They make $300/month for that, $750 for the summer. They are so desperate. I like them very much and it so hurt to see the desperation in his eyes. His wife, Gayane, is a teacher, makes $200/month, has begun having migraines daily. He works for the forestry whatever, but his work is spotty. His 62-year-old mother gets a pension of $60/month and has a huge growth on her abdomen which they can't afford to have removed. They have a nice, big house and a great garden that feeds them, as well as a cow, a horse and chickens. They have one daughter who graduated from high school last year with honors but they can't afford to send her to college (where hopefully she'd find a husband). They have another daughter who will graduate next year and a 12-year-old son. And that's the life they live. So difficult . . . .

A Rainy Saturday in Gyumri

I'm still in Gyumri, Armenia, visiting other volunteers, waiting for the weather to clear and enjoying the culture of this area. Gyumri is the 2nd largest city in Armenia. It was once a center for the arts and the architecture here is lovely. What is left of it that is. It was hit badly by the earthquake in 1988 and still is in a state of chaos. But what is left leads one to know that this was quite an elegant city once upon a time. 50,000 people in the region were killed in the earthquake, many left the area afterwards, and many more left when the Soviet Union collapsed. Yesterday we visited Marmashen, a beautful 1,000-year-old monastery on the outskirts of town.

Marmashen. Being here was a very moving experience.

Marmashen

Judy lighting candles inside the Marmashen Monastery

These old churches and monasteries are not active in the sense that we're familiar with in the US. The structure of their religion was broken during Soviet times. But the Spirit remains very much alive in individual hearts. People go to this places alone or in large family groups to ask for help, to pray, to offer thanks. They light candles and leave small icons. These are places of pilgrimage, not tourist attractions. The stones feel infused with 1,000 years of prayer. There is often a picnic area nearby where they can prepare horovats (like shish-kebob). This is a common practice at cemetaries also. It seems a good gathering place, actually, once I overcome the initial and instinctive reaction of my own cultural traditions.

We also visited an "art hotel" and an art museum in town.

The Gardens behind the Two Sisters Art Museum

Then we went for a walk around town.

A building destroyed by the 1988 earthquake

And there is also the human spirit, creating beauty out of the ashes . . . .

A building in the process of restoration

It's quite cold and rainy right now, off and on. Rain bordering on slush sometimes. The surrounding mountains are covered with snow - again. The very mountains I must pass through as I travel through Georgia - the lesser Caucasus they are called. The route from here to my next stop is around 100 miles and takes the marshrutka "5-10 hours". That's quite a span of time, which says that the road can be worse than awful. I'm sure the rain won't help. My intention is to leave Monday but the weather forecast isn't favorable until Wednesday so we'll see. Not much fun to visit old monasteries and fortresses, slogging through mud and freezing rain.

The internet connection is slow and sometimes not available.

11 April 2010, Sunday

Vahan Topchyan

Looks like I'll be in Gyumri for a while longer. It's still rainy and cold and the roads are bad. I won't be able to make the trip through Georgia that I had hoped to make. But Gyumri's not a nice place and I'm enjoying my stay here. I have Peace Corps friends here, a lovely apartment to stay in (Judy's home) and it's a nice little city. I arrived here Friday. We hung about the house, avoiding the rain, and Judy cooked a wonderful meal for us. We did go to the big hotel here. It started out as a polyclinic, but morphed into a hotel and polyclinic. The hotel now helps to support the clinic.In addition, the hotel displays the work of local artists throughout the lobby and in the rooms. Each room features a different artist. Very unique. I fell in love with the art of Vahan Topchyan. Gyumri was once a center for the arts and it still retains some of that spirit, in spite of the earthquake devastation 22 years ago. The buildings have character. A lot of stone and only a little wood. The stone work around the country is varied and interesting, and here in Gyumri even more so as there's a variety in the buildings that you don't see elsewhere. After touring the hotel we walked over to the food market and picked up a few items. It was cold and rainy so we hustled along back home. Salads salads salads! I've had lots of green food these past few days. Wonderful. Saturday morning the sky was blue and the sun was shining. It was still cool outside but in the sun it felt good. We got a taxi and headed toward Marmashen, on the outskirts of Gyumri.

“The monastery at Marmashen is about 10km northwest of Gyumri, just past the village of the same name in the wide gorge of the Akhuryan River. There are three churches hewn from lovely apricot-colored tuff clustered together next to an orchard, plus the ruins and foundations of other structures nearby. The biggest church, Surp Stepanos, was built between 988 and 1029, with a 13^th-century gavit(forehall). An Italian team led restoration work in the 1960s, so intricately carved old church stones have been incorporated into newer building blocks. Beautiful carved tombs and khatchkars dot the land around the churches, and it's a peaceful, rural environment typical of Shirak, with grassy horizons. The caretaker is here 8am to 8pm daily, and he can recite some of the inscriptions on the sides of the churches by heart.” (Lonely Planet)

It was a lovely and moving experience. The restoration work was beautifully done and the old stones retain the love and prayers of 1,000 years of people who have passed through there.

After the monastery trip we visited another art gallery here, the Two Sisters Gallery or perhaps more accurately the Aslamazyan Gallery. The art of Miryam and Eranim Aslamazyan are primarily displayed here though at different times there are art shows with different artists displayed.Very nice. A lovely day. Then home to again eat a great meal, cooked by Judy. Pasta noodles with parmesan cheese and spinach along with a nice tossed salad.

Today, Sunday, we awoke to gray sky and dreary drizzle. So we're hanging about the apartment, catching up on writing and emailing. Though now, at noon, a little blue sky and sunshine is beginning to appear. Perhaps we'll head to the market soon for fresh veggies for a stir-fry tonight. Maybe Barbara and Stacie will join us for dinner. So, I'm stuck in Gyumri. But I can think of a lot worse places to be stuck – for instance, in a marshrutka on a muddy pot-holed road in southwestern Georgia. :o)