June 26, 2010
Saturday we ventured to Yerevan, the capital, as one big group of PSTers. It was basically a field trip but was awesome. For most of us this was the first time into Yerevan which is considered to be a different country than the rest of Armenia. It is still bustling with activity as it was not destroyed when the soviet era came to a close. It is highly developed and about 70% of the country inhabits the marz of Yerevan or the nearby areas. There are even legit subdivisions outside of the city. There is definitely a different culture in the capital and the modest society that we have become acquainted with is not apparent at all. Fashion in the capital is…interesting. They model western style but with stronger hints of the 80s thrown together with more gaudy attire and bling bling accessories. At least that is what teenage girls look like, and there is no discrimination on bare shoulders and ridiculously short shorts. Basically, anything goes in the capital. This was not entirely shocking to us as we have had hints of this fashion in the villages from our younger host sisters, or Armenians we have encountered who live or often travel to Yerevan but it was still bizarre to see flocks of these individuals walking the streets. Mostly I have encountered village working attire (obviously) and the very professional business attire our teachers and PC admins wear which seems very typical of the older population. Still, it was interesting.
Our “field trip” started out with a trip to the Peace Corps office in Yerevan which we had yet to see. It is a very nice, quaint office with an incredible library with loads of resources for our service and also novels that we are free to take whenever. Thank heavens! It was all ready proving to be a very hot day in Yerevan when we arrived at 10am and quickly after perusing the PC office and library we were shuttled into our un air conditioned marshutnis to be taken to our museum of choice. I had chosen to go to the Genocide memorial and museum which is on the outskirts of the city on a place which literally translates as the “mountain of swallows”. It was very fortunate for us to be going with some of our LCSTs so that as Americans we didn’t appear to be asses. They bought us white carnations and we walked the long route to show our understanding and recognition of the genocide. This also provided us with spectacular views of Mount Ararat and little Mount Ararat; however, the pictures do not do the magnificent mountain justice.


When arriving at the top of the memorial there was Armenian opera playing; a culturally satisfying addition to the solemn experience. The memorial is very simple and I think pays a respectful tribute to the lives lost during the atrocities in the early 1900s. The actual memorial is below ground (as is the museum) and has an eternal flame symbolizing Armenia’s strength and enduring fire to survive and is where we placed our carnations.








We then headed into the museum. The museum demonstrates the harshness of the massacres and gives a very good history of the situation leading up to the genocide. I was thoroughly impressed by the artifacts preserved and displayed but our time was cut short in the museum by the need to get back to the center of Yerevan to meet up with the rest of the PST group.
We were dropped off at Republic Square, a very soviet influenced square, that is beautiful. This is a main tourist attraction so there are many western style restaurants with prices jacked up to regular western prices. As I am still enjoying the food being prepared for me in Armenia very much I had brought my lunch and sat down on a park bench with some others to devour our lunches before heading out to explore, in close proximity, the city.






I was adventuring with two other trainees as we loosely looked for an electronics store where Chad bought a knock off ipod with the excellent addition of an FM radio. He now has told me that it doesn’t work at all to transfer his music files onto. I guess we live and learn. Ha. We continued moseying around, saw a Gaucho Restaurant


and across the street I noticed an old building with a beautifully sculpted exterior and then saw that inside it looked as if an open market was taking place. We decided to run across the street, not the smartest idea, and after dodging death we arrived at the front opening. And what a sight to behold! First was a dried fruit stand. It was simply incredible. With our limited hajaren we began talking to the vendor and asking about the products, commenting and they became intrigued by us. They started offering all sorts of samples to us, which of course I openly took to try. Dried apricot balls mixed with nuts, dried tomatoes that were sweet and then mixed with herbs and salty nuts, dried plums, dried peaches and fruit leather all with the option being mixed with nuts. They were scrumptious. And everything was beautifully presented.


Next up was a vegetable stand, while not as exciting as the dried fruit stand it was also beautifully presented with the ripest vegetables for sale and all with a garnish of sort for increased attractiveness. Next door to it was a fruit stand, same deal, beautiful, delicious and lots of samples coming our way. Most intriguing to me here were the green spiky balls which I inquired about and thankfully there was a man there who knew the English word for what was contained inside, “hazelnut”. Fresh and delicious.



Next up was my favorite stand. It should also be said that there were seriously only these four types of stands in this market. So lots of stands, but the variety was limited to these four. I did not have a problem with this though. So, next up, a spice vendor along with herbs and grains etc. This was simply amazing. I could have stood there and gawked at the variety and presentation for a long time. Each spice was in a large bowl about a foot in diameter and most had a small cup, like a shot glass, on top used for extracting the desired amount from the larger portion.




The spices and such were labeled and also had a number of other sauces and combos between the large bowls. I became enamored with this vendor and started chatting about the various spices. As I jabbered away in hajaren I heard from behind me Chad say, “Margaux, this man is holding my hand and taking me somewhere.” Sure enough, an old Armenian man had grasped Chad and was leading him to some unknown location. I laughed and replied, “oh, you will be fine” and turned back around to continue talking with my spice man. A few minutes passed and I realized I was the sole American around, I asked where my friends were and my new friend ushered me away from the main market and to a corner. Marisa popped out of the corner and laughingly welcomed me into the broom closet where she and Chad had been taken and were being offered shots. Mind you it was approximately 2pm now. Old Armenian man with his homemade alcohol in a tiny closet? Of course I jumped at this opportunity. Menu options? Apricot vodka and cognac. I would estimate from my soon to be buzz and what we had heard about homemade distilling that these were running at about 70-80% alcohol. Keep in mind that I have drank no hard alcohol since leaving America, and beer consumption has been tallied at a shocking 10 beers total in country. And that I thankfully attribute to world cup watching activities. Needless to say, there was no way I was walking out of there in the same mental capacity that I entered the broom closet. Yippee! Haha. Anywho, so I get in there, grab the vodka shot that was offered to me and after the customary long Armenian toast we consumed. Wow! It was soooo delicious.
After no thought whatsoever I asked how much a bottle was, and with a reasonable reply I decided that since I have barely spent any money in country so far I might as well purchase from this gem of a character to remember the experience. He became overly excited about my interest in his vodka and broke out a new bottle of cognac to celebrate with us. This was the goods, the 25 year aged cognac. And another toast for his American friends! Tasted like 151, from what I can remember at least, but was pretty tasty. He was attempting to have us drink more, which I abated by encouraging that I get my bottle of vodka so we could be on our way. He asked me if I wanted a large or small bottle. “um, a small one.” Of course I assumed that this would be a prepackaged bottle. My oh my were my assumptions wrong. He grabbed off his shelf an empty water bottle, placed a funnel in it and proceeded to pour from the large 5 gallon glass jug vodka to fill my bottle. We of course found this hilariously amazing and tried to capture the essence of the situation on film. Meh, we didn’t succeed entirely. However, he was excited by the camera and wanted to take more photos with me, which of course he thought was an excuse for a kiss and another toast, all in the spirit of Armenian hospitality. So I obliged him, minus this kiss part. He snuck one on the cheek. We high tailed it out of there with my water bottle of vodka (I felt 19 again) and decided that was the best experience in Armenia to date.

pouring shots, note the large glass bottles below his arm.

with the funnel pouring my bottle of vodka


oh, he insisted that we take the last drink in this linked-arm fashion. Thank you college for prepping me for this.
At 2:30 we were planning on meeting one of our teachers who was going to escort us to the outside arts and crafts market. With our adventure in the other market we missed departure time but luckily found another teacher to show us the way over there. At first it was not an arts and craft fair but rather a market of used goods. Any and all kinds of used goods. It was wild. These old men, and some women, sat in the drained fountains of a park with tables set up with their goods for sale. 100 varieties of tv remote controls on one card table; used saws and blades; an entire blanket littered with drill bits; another filled with washers, screws and drivers; motors of all shapes and sizes; kitchen goods; Turkish espresso pots, serving platters and a variety of serving utensils; and cameras and accessories from all eras.






And then all of a sudden it did turn into a legit craft fair with exquisite hand embroidered table cloths and hangings; wood carvings of everything; jewelry: Armenian and hokey and then some fantastic vintage; vegetable carvings; vintage maps; books and magazines an assortment of clothes and lastly a booth selling dominatrix-looking dog collars and leashes. At all of these booths pomegranates carved, or embroidered or welded are not lacking. Here they are obsessed with them. I cant remember exactly why but think that it is something having to do with breaking into four equal parts and resembling the cross (Christianity). Needless to say this market was not short of impressive craftsmanship, very sweet Armenians who wanted to offer you refreshments in the hothot heat as incentive to buy their goods and general awesomeness. I of course bought some jewelry to restart my collection of round the world jewelry. Maybe these will not be combustible?




The sweltering heat was exhausting but with 45 minutes left till our marshutnis departure back to our villages I grabbed two other trainees and we went looking for the church we had seen towering above the other surrounding buildings of the square. We found it through an amusement park/carnival and were shocked by how massive it was.


We entered through a side door after climbing up a dirt path (probably not the advisable entrance) and were pleasantly surprised by the cool temperature inside, the organ being played and the general grandioseness of the church. The chandelier was also very impressive.



We exited through the entrance and then were given the privilege of the spectacular view of the church, as I am sure it was intended to first be seen.



postcard material?


And then we saw Queen Burger.

Twas a great day in Yerevan!

Side note that I don’t think I have included yet. A few weeks ago when spelling out my name in hajaren Gor was shocked and screeched in his prepubescent voice. He pronounced my name and asked if it was actually my last name. Yes, of course Granat is my last name. Well, in Hajaren it apparently means grenade. Boom.