Shortly after arriving in Yerevan the taxi I took to get to my friend Garine's apartment broke down. Right in the middle of one of the busiest roads in Yerevan. After the driver, Zorab, tried to restart it to no avail, he put it on neutral and asked me to jump out and push while he tried to reignite the engine. After a couple minutes of doing this the engine started and he yelled for me to jump back in while it was in drive. The remainder of the ride involved Zorab repeatedly apologizing, inviting me to his house for cognac (100 years ago Armenia won some big brandy contest in France and was granted the privilege of calling its brandy "cognac"), and refusing to take any money. I told Garine this story when I finally arrived at her place. Welcome to Armenia, she replied.
Over time I realized how much this small episode encapsulates much of Armenia. Well, Eastern Armenia.
Armenians for over a thousand years were split between the rule of the Byzantines/Seljuks/Ottomans in the West and Persia/Imperial Russia/Soviet Union (now modern-day Armenia) in the East. Before the emergence of these great powers Armenia was comprised of a number of different kingdoms, on and off, in different locations, under the rule of different Armenian speaking dynasties for the previous two thousand years. The remnants of Armenian history and culture remain scattered across the region: from modern-day Turkey in the West to Azerbaijan in the East; from Georgia in the north to Israel in the South. Mostly churches and monasteries, some in ruins, some still functioning.
One of these remnants is the medieval city of Ani, located in Eastern Turkey along the border with Armenia. A silk road city, Ani was one of the largest cities in the world in its time, from the 10th-13th centuries. Growing up I heard the songs and poems about Ani. These songs are constructs of modern-day romantic nationalism. One of them is entitled "Let me see Ani and die." They constitute the great deal of national pride that Armenians feel towards this city. While I tend to intellectually run away from nationalism in any form, ironically on an emotional level it's an inescapable part of me. Let's just say that I saw Ani, but I'm not ready to die.
A week before I arrived in Turkey Ogün Samast, the man who assassinated Hrant Drink in 2007, was released early from prison because of "good behavior." Drink was a Turkish-Armenian journalist who was critical of the Turkish government's denial of the Armenian Genocide. This angered nationalist Turks, many of whom conspired to kill him with the knowledge and assistance of police intelligence and security forces. It was a huge scandal. After his death his family started the Hrant Drink Foundation in order to build relationships between Turkey and Armenia, to monitor hate speech, and to improve human rights in Turkey.
There are many Armenians who live in Turkey today. But most of them are not as vocal as Dink. It is hard to be vocal when the main street going through the Armenian neighborhood is "Talat Pasha Street." (Talat was the architect of the Armenian Genocide). These people are known as the "Hidden Armenians." They are descendants of Ottoman Armenians who were forcibly Islamized under the threat of extermination during the genocide. Over the years many of them maintained their identity and their faith but in secret. Others have lived their entire lives thinking that they were Turkish only to discover later in life their Armenian roots. My friend Garine who welcomed me in Armenia is in fact a Turkish-Armenian. She discovered her Armenian heritage when she was a teenager and proceeded to take Armenian language classes through the Hrant Dink Foundation. It changed her life. She travels back and forth between Istanbul and Yerevan, learning about her heritage and solidifying her identity in the process.
While the genocide was the most profound event that had devastating consequences for modern Western Armenians, the fall of the Soviet Union was probably the most consequential event for modern Eastern Armenians. Overnight in 1991 the underlying wretchedness of the Soviet system that had been easy to miss by unsuspecting eyes emerged out into the open. Entire industries were cut off and abandoned. The mafia and high up communist party members divided up the remaining industries and took political power, creating the modern-day Armenian oligarchy. While a recent revolution is slowly improving things, when one exits the more or less cosmopolitan city center one sees that the urban landscape of Yerevan today remains a strange combination of abandoned Soviet buildings and of the gilded opulence of the oligarchs' hotels, department stores, casinos, and strip clubs.
Here is a hotel owned by the oligarch Gagik Tsarukyan.
And here are some abandoned Soviet structures. Some of these places have guards, some don't. For those with guards, some of them will let you take a better look, some will with bribes, and some will scream at you.
This is the Orgov Radio-optical telescope on Aragats mountain. Abandoned. Further up the mountain is an abandoned top-secret Soviet weapons facility. Not easily accessible.
Stealing Soviet state secrets
Within this landscape are the everyday people of Armenia. Many quite wealthy and successful. Many impoverished. Many working for little pay. Many refusing to work for so little. Many, over 100,000, forcibly removed by Azerbaijan from the disputed region of Nargono-Karabakh into Armenia proper just a couple months prior to my trip, having lost everything, including family members--all doing the best they can with what's been given to them within this small country.
There is one common denominator among all of these people, regardless if they have a lot or a little: it's their warm hospitality, generosity, and kindness. It's all too easy for a random interaction on the street or in a taxi to result in an invitation to one's house for a meal. One woman we met invited us multiple times for dinner and even for making sujuk, which is quite the process. You take a needle and thread and put it through walnuts (from your own walnut tree of course), dip this strand of walnuts into a thickened mixture of grape fruit juice (from your own grapes), flour, and water, and hang to dry.
Much of Armenian culture and cuisine revolves around fruit. Everyone has their own fruit trees. They dry them, make Armenian style fruit roll-ups, sujuk, and even spirits. Everyone has a cellar that's full of spirits made from 5 different fruits. They all taste completely different, and people are more than happy to share.
When I visited my mom's old house, the family who lived there warmly welcomed me and got the entire block together to make kebab. Not without homemade spirits. Lots of them. I don't remember much from that day. Apparently I called my mom while it was 5am here to show her her house on Facetime...followed by a call to my Aunt in California, 2am.
After my time in Armenia I took a plane back to Istanbul and stayed there for a couple more days before heading home. I reflected a lot on my stay in Armenia while exploring Istanbul. When I lived in Turkey 13 years ago I had had the intention of visiting Armenia at that time. It didn't happen then for a variety of reasons. So this trip was a completion of that initial intention.
Due to all the stories, songs, and culture I grew up around, for much of my life I've had romantic notions of moving to Armenia (a few of my childhood friends have done that). It's been an itch in my side for a long time. I am relieved and happy to say that this trip has dispelled these notions and helped me realize that they were mostly based upon fantasy. It was a challenging trip for some of the reasons I mentioned above and a lot more that I didn't mention, but one that was necessary and illuminating. I thank you all, and special thanks to Johnny, Bella, and my father who kept things running in my absence, for making it all possible.