Armenia - Caucases Part 1

The airport in Yerevan is somewhat shocking. A space age orb decorating an otherwise modern facility, there are no hagglers or livestock to greet you when you arrive, much to my surprise. Although Armenia's economy has improved at roughly 10% per year over the last decade or so, the majority of the country remains agricultural and improverished.

Unlike the Baltics, once you clear customs, various, shady looking men mutter "taxi" in your direction, although they are less aggressive than the Russians and Ukrainians in Kyiv or Moscow, for whom spotting (and fooling) marks has become a revered national pastime.

Yerevan shares many traits with other cities in the FSU: poor infrastructure, casinos on every corner, the occasional "strip klub" and a populous armed with cell phones. Armenian cuisine consists of shashlik (Russian/Ukrainian for kebab in Turkish, khorovatsi in Armenian), served smothered with raw onions and cilantro, served with a spicy, tomato sauce (adzhyka). Yogurt, garlic, eggplant and various herbs are staples and combined into interesting salads that accompany the grilled meats.

Last night, we had a particularly extraordinary meal at a local restaurant, with long tables of Armenian families drinking wine and vodka, eating khorovatsi and grilled peppers, tomatoes and eggplants with "zelen" (mixed herbs). The band played traditional Armenian folks songs and ballads, as well as the occasional Soviet hymn. Armenians seem to be spirited and enjoy life. As a whole, they are much friendlier than Russians and Ukrainians. They even smile at you when you make eye contact, a rarer encounter in Ukraine or Russia, except maybe with children.

On an epicurean level, Russia and Ukraine should grateful for Caucasian influence, since the flavors of the region have greatly enhanced the staples of cabbage, potato and sausage that formerly dominated Slavic cuisine. For the last half century, shashlik and adzhyka have become ubiquitous, found as far as the Baltics.

Although Yerevan is very typical of the FSU, it is not experienced the deluge of money (oil) encountered in Ukraine and Russia, and, to that extent, has fewer obvious oligarchs, expensive cars, opulent restaurants and boutiques. Captialism is growing in tiny, baby steps and Armenia has a long way to go.

Our first day here, we made our way up the Cascade, a mile high series of steps leading to a Soviet monument and near a park where Mother Armenia (similar to Radiyna, the "titatnium bitch," as she is jokingly called, found in Kyiv). Mother Armenia scowls over the city, glaring at the Turkish border and the former prize of Armenia, Mount Ararat. Although Mount Ararat, the alleged site of Noah's Ark, is only about 50 miles from Yerevan, across the Turkish border, hostilies between the two countries have meant the border is closed.

Although Armenian might very well resent Russians, they hide it well, particularly since their greatest account of suffering was the Armenian genocide by Turks from 1915-1923. The local Museum of Armenian Genocide contains a powerful exhibit and explains that the opportunity for ethnic cleansing arose from Woodrow Wilson's League of Nations' further meddling with international borders, resulting in the annex of many Armenian territories to Turkey. The result was the decimation of the entrie Armenian population, numbering into the millions, in historical Western Armenia, what today is approximately half of modern Turkey.

Yesterday, we visited the Vernissage weekend market, near the main square, which sells gorgeous handmade rugs (the main reason my mother agreed to come to Armenia) as well as other Soviet tchatchkis, like old medals and propoganda posters. We spent half a day there, yesterday, wandering through stalls, eyeing everything from rugs to jewelry to household items and tools. At the end of the day, my mother had her rug and I had an Armenian t-shirt.

Today, we took a side trip from Yerevan to th Gegehard Monestary, a pristinely preseved religious site dating from the 4th century. It continues to funciton as a monestary, practing Armenian Orthodoxy, which has some slight differences from the Ukrainian, Russian and Greek Orthodoxies with which I am familiar. Namely, we saw the use of animal rituals, which
struck me as pagan in origin.

Behind the monastary, families brought sheep for slaughter as a sacrifice, then prepared and fed to parishoners, particularly strangers, since the idea involves bringing outsiders into the community. Also, men outside sold doves for parishoners to bring into the church, hold during prayer and then release in order to bring their prayers and hopes to God.

As a whole, Armenia was certainly worth the visit. Onward to Tbilisi tomorrow and more then.