July 30, 2005
Bambir Rocks!
On Friday night I went to see the rock band Bambir perform at the Stop Club on the corner of Saryan and Tumanyan Streets. They comprise four young men in their early 20s, one of whom exclusively plays the flute on stage. This band, however, could also be referred to as Bambir junior (or Bambir 2 as they were briefly called) since they are the sons of the members of the original Bambir that came to existence in the 1970s. Since both bands are active and are still recording, they decided to unite finally under the same banner. Although the senior members were not present, they were definitely there in spirit, as they evidently taught their sons very well about what is rock and roll.
Bambir is a band originally from Gyumri, the second largest city of Armenia located in the northern Shirak region, but the members all live and study or work in Yerevan. Their music is influenced heavily by British rock music from the early 1970s. Most of the original songs performed during the two hours I was at the club were in Armenian, although they also write songs in English. What I heard was truly amazing. There were at least two, slightly rock-type interpretations of Gomidas folk songs wedged in between their own material or covers by the Doors or the Rolling Stones. Speaking of which, Bambir’s cover of “I Can’t Get No Sastisfaction” was really great. The flute playing was quite good—although I know the band is influenced by Jethro Tull (Bambir’s guitarist Nareg told me that he found and met Ian Anderson in Moscow), some of the flute harmonies were to me very reminiscent of early, Peter Gabriel-era Genesis, with which Gabriel himself played flute.
In any case, these guys are a great rock band with much potential, and if given the chance they will go far. Nareg told me that they were actually sponsored by System of a Down in 1998 to go to the US where they actually recorded an album. Most of those same songs were rerecorded last year and their new CD can be found in music stores throughout Yerevan. I understand that Bambir will be playing regularly at the Stop Club (which is a great venue, by the way) so if anyone happens to be in Yerevan and enjoys rock music, I suggest that you go down there and check the schedule to see when they will next play. You will not be disappointed.
Bambir is a band originally from Gyumri, the second largest city of Armenia located in the northern Shirak region, but the members all live and study or work in Yerevan. Their music is influenced heavily by British rock music from the early 1970s. Most of the original songs performed during the two hours I was at the club were in Armenian, although they also write songs in English. What I heard was truly amazing. There were at least two, slightly rock-type interpretations of Gomidas folk songs wedged in between their own material or covers by the Doors or the Rolling Stones. Speaking of which, Bambir’s cover of “I Can’t Get No Sastisfaction” was really great. The flute playing was quite good—although I know the band is influenced by Jethro Tull (Bambir’s guitarist Nareg told me that he found and met Ian Anderson in Moscow), some of the flute harmonies were to me very reminiscent of early, Peter Gabriel-era Genesis, with which Gabriel himself played flute.
In any case, these guys are a great rock band with much potential, and if given the chance they will go far. Nareg told me that they were actually sponsored by System of a Down in 1998 to go to the US where they actually recorded an album. Most of those same songs were rerecorded last year and their new CD can be found in music stores throughout Yerevan. I understand that Bambir will be playing regularly at the Stop Club (which is a great venue, by the way) so if anyone happens to be in Yerevan and enjoys rock music, I suggest that you go down there and check the schedule to see when they will next play. You will not be disappointed.
Labels: Music
Observations of Karabagh
I first visited Karabagh in the summer of 2001. For two days I was able to do some basic sight seeing and stay with a family. Although I had trouble understanding the dialect—and I still do—I was able in a short time period understand what makes the Armenians of Karabagh tick and what are their thoughts about life.
As I previously logged, during the weekend of July 24-25 I returned to Karabagh for a second time to attend a wedding. Stepanakert was for the most part the same as I remembered—exceptionally clean compared with Yerevan, plenty of green spaces, and active with business. People’s overall attitudes and outlook are different. They are more outgoing than people from Armenia and naturally, more self-dependent.
The wedding ceremony was held at the rebuilt Armenian church in Shushi, which was used during the war as an arms arsenal by the Azeri troops. The city is being rebuilt—some new buildings such as hotels and well-designed private homes alongside dilapidated or bombed-out apartment buildings. But the population is ever-dwindling—only about 5,000 people down from 30,000 up until the start of the war. Nearly the entire population of the town is unemployed, save for the few business owners and people that travel to Stepanakert—only 10 kilometers away—to work. The main avenue as well as the sidewalks have been repaved, and the projects are ongoing. The two roads leading into the city, however, one from the south and another to the northwest, are still in dire need of repair, as they haven’t been touched in I would guess nearly 20 years. According to one source, two factories, one of which was to be run by a diasporan Armenian, were supposed to have opened in Shushi to partially solve the unemployment issue, but the proposals never went through.
I also wanted to note that it seems Lachin is going through a kind of upswing. Four years ago the main road going through the village was lined with crumbing shack-like dwellings and bombed out buildings. They are being replaced with entirely new, private homes as well as some apartment buildings, from what I could see at a distance. The homes were certainly newly built as the windows and stucco on the outside walls looked fresh. They also have distinct red metal roofs, which seemed to number in the dozens. This is a good sign—Lachin is being repopulated, but I do not yet have information about economic development there. However, one photojournalist—Onnik Krikorian—has indicated in past articles and private conversations that the living conditions there were some of the worst he as seen anywhere in the Armenian-populated Caucasus, including parts of Javakhk. He also believes that in actuality, little has changed there.
***
I just wanted to make some comments here about the upcoming, supposed “peace deal” that may come to fruition by the end of this year. According to the unconfirmed, essentially gossip that is circulating in the Armenian press, five or six territories that are now under Armenian control are to be returned, in exchange, supposedly, for the self-determination of the Karabagh people. Supposedly, the citizens of Karabagh after 10-15 years will be able to decide in a referendum whether they want to be independent or join with Armenia. Even though the Armenians have been living independently and in self-sufficiency for more than 10 years now, and has been able to secure its borders with essentially no real Azeri military threat—up until now—the OSCE (Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe) and whoever else is involved feels that the Armenians need another 10 years to decide what they want to do. After all, it’s only fair, seeing that Karabagh is still, technically, part of Azerbaijan as no country in the world has recognized Karabagh as a free, independent republic, including Armenia.
The very idea that an immediate referendum would not be granted to the Armenian people by the forces above is totally against logic, as is the very notion that the Armenian side is actually conceding to its insistence of passing through a package deal, thus agreeing to a “step-by-step” process for peace. Supposedly, the Lachin district would remain Armenian controlled, while the northern and key, strategic region of Kelbajar may or may not be returned, as that step would be dealt with later. These steps are entirely in the Azeri favor and contradict everything that the Armenians have fought for during five grueling years. Karabagh Armenians would forfeit their independence—whether recognized internationally or not—and settle for undefined self-governance, if that will be acceptable to Aliyev and his people, who still after 10 years do not understand that they lost the war and that Karabagh will not again be under Azeri control anytime soon. Although the Armenians essentially won the war, they will be forced to relinquish what they won—their freedom.
This quote by Vazken Manoukian proves my point:
In my opinion, there are two things that cannot be compromised—the integrity of Karabagh as either an independent republic, as it is now, or as an integrated part of Armenia. Second, the redefined borders of Karabagh—as certainly several of the bargaining chip territories will need to be returned to Azerbaijan—must incorporate the regions of Kelbajar and Lachin; there should be no comprise by the Armenian side here. Lachin is a given, since the current lifeline connecting the two republics goes through there. Kelbajar, however, holds an equal importance to its neighboring territory to the south as an essential area that helps strengthen Armenia’s strategic positioning in the Caucasus region and closes up the gap between the two republics. It is bad enough that Western powers chose to totally bypass Armenia in its building of the Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan oil pipeline, thereby further suppressing Armenia’s economic rise from its Soviet ashes. Armenia should not relinquish the essential territorial integrity it now holds and desperately needs, no matter what international pressures it endures.
It is interesting to note that the ARF-Dashnaktsutiun, which has advocated for 10 years the settlement of the Karabagh issue in a package deal and has been a hardliner in the refusal to return some if not all of the territories, does not seem to have a solid stance regarding this issue. There is this quote, which doesn't say much:
According to my source, Karabagh Armenians are well aware of the current plans for peace, but no one believes that they will be realized. Not even the army generals think so. The thing I’d like to know is if the people don’t believe the peace deal as it stands will happen and thus don’t want it to happen, what will they do if they are forced to accept it? Will they speak up and demand immediate internationally recognized independence or unification with Armenia, or will they shrug their shoulders, quietly curse their government, and then blurt out, “vochinch?” Only time, which seems to be pretty short, will tell.
To read recent press articles about recent Karabagh-related developments, see this month's press archive on ArmeniaLiberty.org.
As I previously logged, during the weekend of July 24-25 I returned to Karabagh for a second time to attend a wedding. Stepanakert was for the most part the same as I remembered—exceptionally clean compared with Yerevan, plenty of green spaces, and active with business. People’s overall attitudes and outlook are different. They are more outgoing than people from Armenia and naturally, more self-dependent.
The wedding ceremony was held at the rebuilt Armenian church in Shushi, which was used during the war as an arms arsenal by the Azeri troops. The city is being rebuilt—some new buildings such as hotels and well-designed private homes alongside dilapidated or bombed-out apartment buildings. But the population is ever-dwindling—only about 5,000 people down from 30,000 up until the start of the war. Nearly the entire population of the town is unemployed, save for the few business owners and people that travel to Stepanakert—only 10 kilometers away—to work. The main avenue as well as the sidewalks have been repaved, and the projects are ongoing. The two roads leading into the city, however, one from the south and another to the northwest, are still in dire need of repair, as they haven’t been touched in I would guess nearly 20 years. According to one source, two factories, one of which was to be run by a diasporan Armenian, were supposed to have opened in Shushi to partially solve the unemployment issue, but the proposals never went through.
I also wanted to note that it seems Lachin is going through a kind of upswing. Four years ago the main road going through the village was lined with crumbing shack-like dwellings and bombed out buildings. They are being replaced with entirely new, private homes as well as some apartment buildings, from what I could see at a distance. The homes were certainly newly built as the windows and stucco on the outside walls looked fresh. They also have distinct red metal roofs, which seemed to number in the dozens. This is a good sign—Lachin is being repopulated, but I do not yet have information about economic development there. However, one photojournalist—Onnik Krikorian—has indicated in past articles and private conversations that the living conditions there were some of the worst he as seen anywhere in the Armenian-populated Caucasus, including parts of Javakhk. He also believes that in actuality, little has changed there.
***
I just wanted to make some comments here about the upcoming, supposed “peace deal” that may come to fruition by the end of this year. According to the unconfirmed, essentially gossip that is circulating in the Armenian press, five or six territories that are now under Armenian control are to be returned, in exchange, supposedly, for the self-determination of the Karabagh people. Supposedly, the citizens of Karabagh after 10-15 years will be able to decide in a referendum whether they want to be independent or join with Armenia. Even though the Armenians have been living independently and in self-sufficiency for more than 10 years now, and has been able to secure its borders with essentially no real Azeri military threat—up until now—the OSCE (Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe) and whoever else is involved feels that the Armenians need another 10 years to decide what they want to do. After all, it’s only fair, seeing that Karabagh is still, technically, part of Azerbaijan as no country in the world has recognized Karabagh as a free, independent republic, including Armenia.
The very idea that an immediate referendum would not be granted to the Armenian people by the forces above is totally against logic, as is the very notion that the Armenian side is actually conceding to its insistence of passing through a package deal, thus agreeing to a “step-by-step” process for peace. Supposedly, the Lachin district would remain Armenian controlled, while the northern and key, strategic region of Kelbajar may or may not be returned, as that step would be dealt with later. These steps are entirely in the Azeri favor and contradict everything that the Armenians have fought for during five grueling years. Karabagh Armenians would forfeit their independence—whether recognized internationally or not—and settle for undefined self-governance, if that will be acceptable to Aliyev and his people, who still after 10 years do not understand that they lost the war and that Karabagh will not again be under Azeri control anytime soon. Although the Armenians essentially won the war, they will be forced to relinquish what they won—their freedom.
This quote by Vazken Manoukian proves my point:
Some Armenian opposition leaders have already rejected that formula. One of them, Vazgen Manukian, called it “absolutely unacceptable” on Thursday. “We give away those territories and there will be a referendum in 10 or 15 years time,” he told RFE/RL. “What would we gain from that? I don’t know.”
“Karabakh’s status must be determined now, not after 10 or 15 years,” he said. “Armenia and Azerbaijan must declare that they want a referendum to be held in Karabakh now and will accept its results.”
--Mediators Say Karabakh Peace In Sight, July 14, RFE/RL
In my opinion, there are two things that cannot be compromised—the integrity of Karabagh as either an independent republic, as it is now, or as an integrated part of Armenia. Second, the redefined borders of Karabagh—as certainly several of the bargaining chip territories will need to be returned to Azerbaijan—must incorporate the regions of Kelbajar and Lachin; there should be no comprise by the Armenian side here. Lachin is a given, since the current lifeline connecting the two republics goes through there. Kelbajar, however, holds an equal importance to its neighboring territory to the south as an essential area that helps strengthen Armenia’s strategic positioning in the Caucasus region and closes up the gap between the two republics. It is bad enough that Western powers chose to totally bypass Armenia in its building of the Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan oil pipeline, thereby further suppressing Armenia’s economic rise from its Soviet ashes. Armenia should not relinquish the essential territorial integrity it now holds and desperately needs, no matter what international pressures it endures.
It is interesting to note that the ARF-Dashnaktsutiun, which has advocated for 10 years the settlement of the Karabagh issue in a package deal and has been a hardliner in the refusal to return some if not all of the territories, does not seem to have a solid stance regarding this issue. There is this quote, which doesn't say much:
The idea is supported in principle by Armen Rustamian, a leader of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation, a nationalist party which is represented in Armenia’s government and favors a hard line on the Karabakh conflict.
“The main demand of the Armenian side is that the issue of Karabakh’s status be solved in accordance with the Artsakh people’s right to self-determination,” he told RFE/RL. “So we must achieve the realization of that right.”
“But we don’t have the remaining details,” he added. “As they say, the devil is in the details. A few concrete issues must be clarified. For example, the territory on which the referendum is to be held and the electorate that will take part in the vote.
“If we see that the details nullify the idea, that will mean we are again in an illusory situation and we of course will not agree to that.”
--Karabakh Leaders ‘Opposed To Phased Peace Deal’, July 12, 2005, RFE/RL
According to my source, Karabagh Armenians are well aware of the current plans for peace, but no one believes that they will be realized. Not even the army generals think so. The thing I’d like to know is if the people don’t believe the peace deal as it stands will happen and thus don’t want it to happen, what will they do if they are forced to accept it? Will they speak up and demand immediate internationally recognized independence or unification with Armenia, or will they shrug their shoulders, quietly curse their government, and then blurt out, “vochinch?” Only time, which seems to be pretty short, will tell.
To read recent press articles about recent Karabagh-related developments, see this month's press archive on ArmeniaLiberty.org.
Labels: Nagorno-Karabagh, Personal Experiences, Social and Cultural
July 25, 2005
Back from Karabagh
This evening I returned from a weekend trip to Karabagh, where I attended Ara Manoogian's wedding. Ara is a fellow diasporan Armenian, from California, who lives in Martuni, Karabagh. He is the author of the blog Martuni or Bust!!! and has worked with Edik Bagdasarian and Hetq online on the ongoing investigative series "Desert Nights," which documented the traffiking of women from Armenia to Dubai.
In any case, my impressions of Karabagh overall were positive. There is quite a bit construction going on, and Stepanakert is still one of the cleanest cities I have ever been to. However, unemployment is still a major problem and is the main reason why thousands of people have left during the last 10 years or so.
More about Karabagh soon....
And I'd like to again congratulate Ara on his marriage--he is a lucky man!
In any case, my impressions of Karabagh overall were positive. There is quite a bit construction going on, and Stepanakert is still one of the cleanest cities I have ever been to. However, unemployment is still a major problem and is the main reason why thousands of people have left during the last 10 years or so.
More about Karabagh soon....
And I'd like to again congratulate Ara on his marriage--he is a lucky man!
Labels: Nagorno-Karabagh, Personal Experiences
July 20, 2005
What’s Up with These Kids?
I’ve been noticing lately that a segment of the youth here has become “Westernized” to some extent. In other words, I am seeing more and more the traits in youth that I would see back in the US.
Which is both good and bad. It is good because now we are seeing a diversity amongst the youth—those that are clean cut, with a 50s-style haircut parted on the right side, wearing pressed white pants and tee shirts, girls with tight jeans and colorful, sometimes evocative tops, listening to Russian pop or Armenian “rabiz.” Then you have another segment, a growing minority, that listens to classic as well as modern rock music, with young men growing long hair, and both boys and girls wearing earthy toned, grungy clothes. Most times I mistake this alternative youth as tourists, until I walk by them and hear they are speaking Armenian.
Just this evening, for the first time I saw a teenager riding around carelessly on a skate board near the fountains at Republic Square. He looked like the same type of kid that I would see hanging around Harvard Square in Cambridge, Mass, with the shorts that have the hem just past the knee, worn-out baseball-style cap, worn-out tee shirt, and so forth.
So this is an interesting trend—it means that there are now distinct differences in youth culture, that the younger generations are becoming more worldly than their elders and are looking outside of their own boundaries. Certainly television has made a huge impact on the kids, as now there are satellite TV connections broadcasting programming from around the world, and also pirated versions of the latest Hollywood movie releases can always be seen on Armenian TV, thereby displaying the latest cultural trends. Other pop music forms have also taken hold, for example “gangsta” rap.
However, the bad side of this trend is the disrespect that I did not encounter until recently. I am finding now that many kids are talking back and even heckling adults. Naturally, I fell victim to this as the kids from the tiny village that lies in the back of my building are still obsessively teasing me about a goatee that I grew for a short while during the early spring and shaved three months ago. Tonight when leaving the house the most bold of these guys, who for some reason is about six-feet tall although he is no more than 14, started acting wise with me, whereby I plainly told him off and threatened to go to his parents to complain. But he didn’t seem to care. I ran into a similar problem a couple of weeks ago in Vanadzor while walking Ariga’s dog when one of the kids that live in their building threw a stone in its direction which thankfully hit a garage door instead. When Ariga’s mother asked why he did it, the kid was totally defiant of her, and did not flinch when we said that his parents would know about it. So now are rudeness and arrogance is present amongst some of these kids that did not encounter before and, naturally, it is contagious.
But Karen tells me that this is nothing new and that kids who don’t study well, play in the streets, and so forth start turning into mischievous punks, just like you would see most anywhere else in the world.
This is not a big deal as kids will be kids, but I never liked it when some of the more spoiled and rambunctious of them gave me a hard time in Boston, and I don’t appreciate it here either.
Which is both good and bad. It is good because now we are seeing a diversity amongst the youth—those that are clean cut, with a 50s-style haircut parted on the right side, wearing pressed white pants and tee shirts, girls with tight jeans and colorful, sometimes evocative tops, listening to Russian pop or Armenian “rabiz.” Then you have another segment, a growing minority, that listens to classic as well as modern rock music, with young men growing long hair, and both boys and girls wearing earthy toned, grungy clothes. Most times I mistake this alternative youth as tourists, until I walk by them and hear they are speaking Armenian.
Just this evening, for the first time I saw a teenager riding around carelessly on a skate board near the fountains at Republic Square. He looked like the same type of kid that I would see hanging around Harvard Square in Cambridge, Mass, with the shorts that have the hem just past the knee, worn-out baseball-style cap, worn-out tee shirt, and so forth.
So this is an interesting trend—it means that there are now distinct differences in youth culture, that the younger generations are becoming more worldly than their elders and are looking outside of their own boundaries. Certainly television has made a huge impact on the kids, as now there are satellite TV connections broadcasting programming from around the world, and also pirated versions of the latest Hollywood movie releases can always be seen on Armenian TV, thereby displaying the latest cultural trends. Other pop music forms have also taken hold, for example “gangsta” rap.
However, the bad side of this trend is the disrespect that I did not encounter until recently. I am finding now that many kids are talking back and even heckling adults. Naturally, I fell victim to this as the kids from the tiny village that lies in the back of my building are still obsessively teasing me about a goatee that I grew for a short while during the early spring and shaved three months ago. Tonight when leaving the house the most bold of these guys, who for some reason is about six-feet tall although he is no more than 14, started acting wise with me, whereby I plainly told him off and threatened to go to his parents to complain. But he didn’t seem to care. I ran into a similar problem a couple of weeks ago in Vanadzor while walking Ariga’s dog when one of the kids that live in their building threw a stone in its direction which thankfully hit a garage door instead. When Ariga’s mother asked why he did it, the kid was totally defiant of her, and did not flinch when we said that his parents would know about it. So now are rudeness and arrogance is present amongst some of these kids that did not encounter before and, naturally, it is contagious.
But Karen tells me that this is nothing new and that kids who don’t study well, play in the streets, and so forth start turning into mischievous punks, just like you would see most anywhere else in the world.
This is not a big deal as kids will be kids, but I never liked it when some of the more spoiled and rambunctious of them gave me a hard time in Boston, and I don’t appreciate it here either.
Labels: Personal Experiences, Social and Cultural
July 18, 2005
The Fallen
Tonight I saw the last film screening of the Golden Apricot Film Festival at the Moscow Cinema. The film was called The Fallen, and was directed by German filmmaker Fred Kelemen. It was shot in Riga, Latvia, and the drab, stark setting proved to be perfect for the scenario of the film.
Filmed entirely in black and white—a medium that thankfully seems to persist in an age of cinematic digital razzle-dazzle—the story is of a lonely archivist who wanders the empty city streets every night. When crossing a bridge he sees and makes eye contact with a woman who is ready to throw herself off. He continues along and a few moments later hears a splash, then a cry for help, but she is nowhere to be found in the river below. The rest of the film depicts the man’s obsession with finding out who the woman was and what compelled her to put an end to her own life. He discovers that she left her handbag in a bar and convinces the barman to give it to him, claiming that it belongs to his girlfriend. In it he finds discarded drafts of suicide notes addressed to her lover as well as a ticket from a film developing shop. Then he carefully studies each of the film slides in his apartment in an attempt to gain the slightest clue into her personality, her desires, and even her mental state. The film is slow going with minimal dialogue, and its predominant darkness gives it a neo film-noir feel, not to mention the one-man-against-all-odds premise. Incidentally, the film was subtitled in English but was badly dubbed in Armenian, seemingly live, by a young woman speaking into a microphone in the projection booth or who knows where.
Unfortunately I did not have the opportunity to see any of the Armenian films screened, as most of them were shown during the daytime. Due to work and personal commitments, there was no way for me to go see them.
However, it has been my intention for some time to simply go out and start purchasing, then reviewing Soviet-era Armenian films. I have reviewed two more recent films already, “Herostratus” and “Symphony of Silence,” and I was impressed with both of them. There seems to be a revitalization of the Armenian film industry judging from all the Armenian directors that had their work exhibited during the festival, so we’ll have to see what comes out of it in the next five to 10 years. As a matter of fact, I just recently completed my latest short film titled “Elements of Eternity” and have already submitted it to a film festival.
Filmed entirely in black and white—a medium that thankfully seems to persist in an age of cinematic digital razzle-dazzle—the story is of a lonely archivist who wanders the empty city streets every night. When crossing a bridge he sees and makes eye contact with a woman who is ready to throw herself off. He continues along and a few moments later hears a splash, then a cry for help, but she is nowhere to be found in the river below. The rest of the film depicts the man’s obsession with finding out who the woman was and what compelled her to put an end to her own life. He discovers that she left her handbag in a bar and convinces the barman to give it to him, claiming that it belongs to his girlfriend. In it he finds discarded drafts of suicide notes addressed to her lover as well as a ticket from a film developing shop. Then he carefully studies each of the film slides in his apartment in an attempt to gain the slightest clue into her personality, her desires, and even her mental state. The film is slow going with minimal dialogue, and its predominant darkness gives it a neo film-noir feel, not to mention the one-man-against-all-odds premise. Incidentally, the film was subtitled in English but was badly dubbed in Armenian, seemingly live, by a young woman speaking into a microphone in the projection booth or who knows where.
Unfortunately I did not have the opportunity to see any of the Armenian films screened, as most of them were shown during the daytime. Due to work and personal commitments, there was no way for me to go see them.
However, it has been my intention for some time to simply go out and start purchasing, then reviewing Soviet-era Armenian films. I have reviewed two more recent films already, “Herostratus” and “Symphony of Silence,” and I was impressed with both of them. There seems to be a revitalization of the Armenian film industry judging from all the Armenian directors that had their work exhibited during the festival, so we’ll have to see what comes out of it in the next five to 10 years. As a matter of fact, I just recently completed my latest short film titled “Elements of Eternity” and have already submitted it to a film festival.
Labels: Film and Art
July 16, 2005
Los Muertos
I just returned from a film screening of “Los Muertos” as part of the 2nd Annual Golden Apricot International Film Festival, officiated by Canadian filmmaker Atom Egoyan. The festival features films from around the world, mostly by Armenian filmmakers. The film I saw was an Argentinan/French/Dutch co-production.
The film was directed by 30-year-old Lisandro Alonso, an Argentinan, and this film makes his second. In a nutshell the film tells the story of a lonely, quiet man named Vargas, played by Argentino Vargas, who makes a voyage from prison when he is released to a remote village, which is best reached by row boat traveling along a long, winding river. The film was shot with no professional actors but also in the moment, with improvisation as the means, creating an excellent example of cinema vérité. There is virtually no dialogue, aside from small talk he makes when running across someone he has not met before or has not seen for a long time.
The use of nature as a storytelling tool is put to great use here. Vargas is clearly in his element in the outdoors as he easily adapts to any challenge he happens to meet at the spur of the moment. For instance, when finding a lone goat wandering alongside a riverbank, he does not hesitate to dock and jump out to grab it, then slaughter it immediately, live in front of the camera. Without a doubt most if not all of the film was shot in single or double takes, thereby explaining the element of spontaneity.
But perhaps the most impressive scene took place in the first three minutes, during which the camera weaves through the thick, intertwining trees in an overgrown forest like a snake, briefly revealing what it sees before moving onwards. People the snake-like camera finds that are never explained in the film are two dead children lying near a brook, a boy and a girl, just before finding the approaching legs of a man moments later.
As Ariga said, “That film was weird,” mostly because there was no clear narrative and thus, at times, was boring. However, I personally enjoyed it because of that reason, and it was something I never thought I would see in Armenia. Actually, at least 20 people walked out because there was no translation of any kind (although the images themselves told the story) and because they didn’t get what was happening. Armenians, being generally impatient, just couldn’t hang in there, save for about 12 or so people.
A brief note about the festival: it is a great idea and is welcomed, especially by a film buff and an amateur filmmaker like myself. However, it is not surprisingly disorganized as scheduled times for film screenings seem to change on a whim. The promotional image for the festival was a bit odd as well—a slice of buttered bread with a large “2” written on it in presumably apricot jam. In any case, kudos to the organizers for making this happen two years in a row. The festival ends on July 17.
The film was directed by 30-year-old Lisandro Alonso, an Argentinan, and this film makes his second. In a nutshell the film tells the story of a lonely, quiet man named Vargas, played by Argentino Vargas, who makes a voyage from prison when he is released to a remote village, which is best reached by row boat traveling along a long, winding river. The film was shot with no professional actors but also in the moment, with improvisation as the means, creating an excellent example of cinema vérité. There is virtually no dialogue, aside from small talk he makes when running across someone he has not met before or has not seen for a long time.
The use of nature as a storytelling tool is put to great use here. Vargas is clearly in his element in the outdoors as he easily adapts to any challenge he happens to meet at the spur of the moment. For instance, when finding a lone goat wandering alongside a riverbank, he does not hesitate to dock and jump out to grab it, then slaughter it immediately, live in front of the camera. Without a doubt most if not all of the film was shot in single or double takes, thereby explaining the element of spontaneity.
But perhaps the most impressive scene took place in the first three minutes, during which the camera weaves through the thick, intertwining trees in an overgrown forest like a snake, briefly revealing what it sees before moving onwards. People the snake-like camera finds that are never explained in the film are two dead children lying near a brook, a boy and a girl, just before finding the approaching legs of a man moments later.
As Ariga said, “That film was weird,” mostly because there was no clear narrative and thus, at times, was boring. However, I personally enjoyed it because of that reason, and it was something I never thought I would see in Armenia. Actually, at least 20 people walked out because there was no translation of any kind (although the images themselves told the story) and because they didn’t get what was happening. Armenians, being generally impatient, just couldn’t hang in there, save for about 12 or so people.
A brief note about the festival: it is a great idea and is welcomed, especially by a film buff and an amateur filmmaker like myself. However, it is not surprisingly disorganized as scheduled times for film screenings seem to change on a whim. The promotional image for the festival was a bit odd as well—a slice of buttered bread with a large “2” written on it in presumably apricot jam. In any case, kudos to the organizers for making this happen two years in a row. The festival ends on July 17.
Labels: Film and Art
July 11, 2005
Buyer Beware
I want to warn anyone shopping for food in central Yerevan to be sure to read all labels and prices very carefully, or you can easily be taken. Despite my usual heeding of price tags for food products, I was ripped off for about $3.00 (1400 dram) for a 200 gram piece of sausage, supposedly Russian. But in actuality it is just a very expensive piece of bologna. In fact the equivalent, domestic piece of meat is worth a fraction of the cost and in my opinion tastes the same if not better--I usually stick to meats made by "Geghard."
This incident occured just about an hour ago when my fiancée and I popped into Europa supermarket, located on St. Vartanants Street just near Sakharov Square, for something to eat as no other stores in the area were open. For some reason, few if not any of the meats displayed in their case have any prices per kilogram shown. We picked a piece of sausage that we later realized after paying and leaving the store was priced way too high for what it was. Going back to the store and asking for our money back did us no good, as about six employees including the manager, who must weigh about 300 pounds incidentally, refuted our claim that we were not aware of the actually cost of the meat (which we obviously weren't).
In any case, just be careful and never assume anything as I did this evening. That market mostly caters to foreigners who may not know any better or just do not care about how much things cost.
The no-name supermarket that I usually go to, which near the intersection of Republic (Alaverdi) and St. Vartanants Streets, is an excellent store and everything is fresh as well as the prices clearly labeled--their prices are the lowest I've seen anywhere. There's another small grocery store on Nalbandyan Street on the left as you go through Sakharov Square is also nice. SAS supermarkets on the corner of Mashdots and Amirian Streets as well as on Tumanian Street are expensive but are open 24 hours and have a very wide selection of liquors, breads, pastries, juices, canned goods, and so forth.
Panino, another shop on Mashdots, is also open 24 hours and is an even better store with has a better selection of foods, but also cheaper. They carry a full selection of Georgian wines that are at least a dollar cheaper than seen elsewhere (for example, the very expensive Russian food store across from the opera).
Last but not least I want to point out the Red Rooster market, which is on Pushkin Street near the Mashdots intersection, going in the direction of Saryan Street. This place has an excellent fresh meat selection, the best I have seen anywhere, as well as a wonderful grocery selection with many foreign stuff you cannot find elsewhere, including a fantastic tea selection. Prices are not too high considering the quality and that the meat is actually cut according to established European/American standards--in other words, there is not some guy in the back with a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth pounding away randomly at a carcass segment lying on an old worn tree trunk turned butcher block with a dull axe. The meat is wrapped in cellophane and even seasoned, ready for the barbecue.
In any case, you're warned.
This incident occured just about an hour ago when my fiancée and I popped into Europa supermarket, located on St. Vartanants Street just near Sakharov Square, for something to eat as no other stores in the area were open. For some reason, few if not any of the meats displayed in their case have any prices per kilogram shown. We picked a piece of sausage that we later realized after paying and leaving the store was priced way too high for what it was. Going back to the store and asking for our money back did us no good, as about six employees including the manager, who must weigh about 300 pounds incidentally, refuted our claim that we were not aware of the actually cost of the meat (which we obviously weren't).
In any case, just be careful and never assume anything as I did this evening. That market mostly caters to foreigners who may not know any better or just do not care about how much things cost.
The no-name supermarket that I usually go to, which near the intersection of Republic (Alaverdi) and St. Vartanants Streets, is an excellent store and everything is fresh as well as the prices clearly labeled--their prices are the lowest I've seen anywhere. There's another small grocery store on Nalbandyan Street on the left as you go through Sakharov Square is also nice. SAS supermarkets on the corner of Mashdots and Amirian Streets as well as on Tumanian Street are expensive but are open 24 hours and have a very wide selection of liquors, breads, pastries, juices, canned goods, and so forth.
Panino, another shop on Mashdots, is also open 24 hours and is an even better store with has a better selection of foods, but also cheaper. They carry a full selection of Georgian wines that are at least a dollar cheaper than seen elsewhere (for example, the very expensive Russian food store across from the opera).
Last but not least I want to point out the Red Rooster market, which is on Pushkin Street near the Mashdots intersection, going in the direction of Saryan Street. This place has an excellent fresh meat selection, the best I have seen anywhere, as well as a wonderful grocery selection with many foreign stuff you cannot find elsewhere, including a fantastic tea selection. Prices are not too high considering the quality and that the meat is actually cut according to established European/American standards--in other words, there is not some guy in the back with a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth pounding away randomly at a carcass segment lying on an old worn tree trunk turned butcher block with a dull axe. The meat is wrapped in cellophane and even seasoned, ready for the barbecue.
In any case, you're warned.
Labels: Economy, Food and Drink, Social and Cultural
July 6, 2005
In the Plains of Ararat
Today (June 5) was Constitution Day and an official holiday. I had nothing to do as my workplace was closed for the day, and I wanted to get out of Yerevan desperately. So I decided to fill 10 liters of “premium” gasoline (you never know what you’re going to get, no matter what grade you choose—it is not uncommon to find gasoline cut with diesel fuel being sold as “regular”) and drive out to the Ararat region. The road that cuts through the Ararat plains is the same that continues on towards Goris and Meghri. Along the highway are a steady string of villages mostly on the left side while driving towards Ararat city, and on the right are hectares and hectares of farmland, reaching out to the Turkish border, which is incidentally only a few kilometers or in some areas only a few hundred meters away.
I was headed for Sergey Minasian’s farm, which is located about three kilometers east from the highway and is situated about 500 meters or so from the Turkish border. His land is under jurisdiction of the village Voskedap, or Shirazlu, its former name by which it is more commonly known. Shirazlu incidentally is the Azeri name for the village, as nearly half of its residents were Azeri until they moved out at the breakout of the Karabagh war. As usual, I drove a couple of kilometers too far and when I hit Vedi I went back to find the turn off. A dirt road connects to the main highway from the fields, but since there is no sign for the village on the highway for some reason, it is easy to miss where you actually are. Along the dirt road I made some wrong turns, as there are forks and unexpected intersections, but I asked a few villagers along the way who pointed me in the right direction.
Sergey had been leasing land from the government—about 22 hectares—for farming purposes. He started with a dry field, with no irrigation, overrun with weeds and even some scattered garbage. Within a few years he was able to turn over the entire area of land and produce enough profitable crops for delivery to market as well as for sale to local canneries. The downside of progress here, however, is corruption and envy. Over the years Sergey had to pay countless number of bribes in order to secure a line for electricity, water for irrigation, and in order to please local administration officials who were pressuring him by threatening to increase his taxes or, even worse, spreading rumors about him, he offered them either some land to cultivate or crops. Then there are taxes, including land and income, as well as costs for water and electricity, which are both measured by a special meter counting his usage. Now Sergey owns 10 hectares of that land; he is still leasing other plots but for the most part local officials and others at auction secured the remaining hectares to serve their own business interests. Powerless, and without the proper funds to purchase all the plots, he could not stop them from moving in on the land he made profitable and the same that local citizens once spat on.
When I finally made my way to their trailer, which is literally only a few miles from the base of Mount Ararat, I found him far off to the left side of his cucumber patch, about 500 meters away pushing some mud around with a spade. He was shirtless and the sun had enjoyed roasting him to perfection. We went back to the trailer and spent most of the day talking about various subjects, including politics, farming, my upcoming wedding, his brothers, apricots, and so forth. Two of his brothers, who also help him on the farm, own a few rows of apricot trees in an orchard, and during the last few days they were busy picking fruit to sell at market or to canneries. Sergey told me to go meet his younger brother Gurgen, who is his right hand man on the farm but was tending to his trees, and to pick up a few kilos of apricots for myself. They ended up giving me three pails full of apricots—fully ripened, rotting, not yet ripe, still green, and smashed—which amounted to a crate full. I managed to lug the crate home incidentally, arriving at about 12:30 am, but I wasn’t able to cram them all into my refrigerator.
Gurgen was busy trying to harvest as many remaining apricots as he could for his own use as well as to give some away, as he had already sold whatever he could. Because the apricots were so plentiful this year, he was only able to sell them for 45 drams a kilo wholesale, or about a dime. At market apricots fetch from 100-150 drams a kilo, or 25-30 cents depending on where you go shopping. He told me that after paying off his expenses, such as for water, transportation, workers, and so forth, he barely broke even. Last year he and Maïs, the other brother harvesting apricots, made a killing at market since apricots were scarce due to a late spring frost that destroyed most of the crops throughout Armenia. In contrast, apricots sold for at minimum $2.00 a kilo.
Gurgen and I ended going up to the grocery store to pick up some bread and chicken legs for barbequing back at the ranch. For the rest of the afternoon and early evening we continued to talk about socioeconomic issues as well as politics. They complained that the government was not doing enough to help farmers earn a profit by, for instance, signing agreements with foreign countries to export fruit—in this case apricots. Armenia does not export any apricots for some unbeknownst reason to anyone growing them, which seems strange considering that the apricot was supposedly first indigenous to Armenia (which I recently heard is false) and that Armenian apricots are the best tasting in the world. I told them that if they expected change they as well as thousands of others who feel the same way need to mobilize and publicly protest the government’s policies, that there is no other way for the government to change what they are not doing but should be. They both told me they were disappointed with political organizations—especially with ARF-Dashnaktsutiun, which they said complained a lot but didn’t do anything about what they were protesting on television and in the press, namely corruption. I told them that I could not blame them for being disappointed. They were convinced that most members of nearly all political parties are accepting or paying bribes, especially for votes, and that the ARF was no exception. I could not find any reason to refute them.
Sergey planted some “sweet apple” trees—the fruit is small, round, and green but not necessarily sweet—and some mulberry trees not far from the trailer, running alongside the water channel, so we walked over to them to pick the fruit. He had planted them to beautify the area and also to provide a shady place for workers to sit and eat lunch. However, quite a few of the tree saplings were eaten by cows that a nearby villager puts to field for grazing. Sergey exchanged some kind words with the guy, at first, about having his animals avoid the trees, as he planted them for everyone’s use and benefit, the fruit could be eaten by all, and so forth, but the guy accused Sergey of being jealous of his cows.
If any readers happen to be in Yerevan and want some free apricots please contact me.
I was headed for Sergey Minasian’s farm, which is located about three kilometers east from the highway and is situated about 500 meters or so from the Turkish border. His land is under jurisdiction of the village Voskedap, or Shirazlu, its former name by which it is more commonly known. Shirazlu incidentally is the Azeri name for the village, as nearly half of its residents were Azeri until they moved out at the breakout of the Karabagh war. As usual, I drove a couple of kilometers too far and when I hit Vedi I went back to find the turn off. A dirt road connects to the main highway from the fields, but since there is no sign for the village on the highway for some reason, it is easy to miss where you actually are. Along the dirt road I made some wrong turns, as there are forks and unexpected intersections, but I asked a few villagers along the way who pointed me in the right direction.
Sergey had been leasing land from the government—about 22 hectares—for farming purposes. He started with a dry field, with no irrigation, overrun with weeds and even some scattered garbage. Within a few years he was able to turn over the entire area of land and produce enough profitable crops for delivery to market as well as for sale to local canneries. The downside of progress here, however, is corruption and envy. Over the years Sergey had to pay countless number of bribes in order to secure a line for electricity, water for irrigation, and in order to please local administration officials who were pressuring him by threatening to increase his taxes or, even worse, spreading rumors about him, he offered them either some land to cultivate or crops. Then there are taxes, including land and income, as well as costs for water and electricity, which are both measured by a special meter counting his usage. Now Sergey owns 10 hectares of that land; he is still leasing other plots but for the most part local officials and others at auction secured the remaining hectares to serve their own business interests. Powerless, and without the proper funds to purchase all the plots, he could not stop them from moving in on the land he made profitable and the same that local citizens once spat on.
When I finally made my way to their trailer, which is literally only a few miles from the base of Mount Ararat, I found him far off to the left side of his cucumber patch, about 500 meters away pushing some mud around with a spade. He was shirtless and the sun had enjoyed roasting him to perfection. We went back to the trailer and spent most of the day talking about various subjects, including politics, farming, my upcoming wedding, his brothers, apricots, and so forth. Two of his brothers, who also help him on the farm, own a few rows of apricot trees in an orchard, and during the last few days they were busy picking fruit to sell at market or to canneries. Sergey told me to go meet his younger brother Gurgen, who is his right hand man on the farm but was tending to his trees, and to pick up a few kilos of apricots for myself. They ended up giving me three pails full of apricots—fully ripened, rotting, not yet ripe, still green, and smashed—which amounted to a crate full. I managed to lug the crate home incidentally, arriving at about 12:30 am, but I wasn’t able to cram them all into my refrigerator.
Gurgen was busy trying to harvest as many remaining apricots as he could for his own use as well as to give some away, as he had already sold whatever he could. Because the apricots were so plentiful this year, he was only able to sell them for 45 drams a kilo wholesale, or about a dime. At market apricots fetch from 100-150 drams a kilo, or 25-30 cents depending on where you go shopping. He told me that after paying off his expenses, such as for water, transportation, workers, and so forth, he barely broke even. Last year he and Maïs, the other brother harvesting apricots, made a killing at market since apricots were scarce due to a late spring frost that destroyed most of the crops throughout Armenia. In contrast, apricots sold for at minimum $2.00 a kilo.
Gurgen and I ended going up to the grocery store to pick up some bread and chicken legs for barbequing back at the ranch. For the rest of the afternoon and early evening we continued to talk about socioeconomic issues as well as politics. They complained that the government was not doing enough to help farmers earn a profit by, for instance, signing agreements with foreign countries to export fruit—in this case apricots. Armenia does not export any apricots for some unbeknownst reason to anyone growing them, which seems strange considering that the apricot was supposedly first indigenous to Armenia (which I recently heard is false) and that Armenian apricots are the best tasting in the world. I told them that if they expected change they as well as thousands of others who feel the same way need to mobilize and publicly protest the government’s policies, that there is no other way for the government to change what they are not doing but should be. They both told me they were disappointed with political organizations—especially with ARF-Dashnaktsutiun, which they said complained a lot but didn’t do anything about what they were protesting on television and in the press, namely corruption. I told them that I could not blame them for being disappointed. They were convinced that most members of nearly all political parties are accepting or paying bribes, especially for votes, and that the ARF was no exception. I could not find any reason to refute them.
Sergey planted some “sweet apple” trees—the fruit is small, round, and green but not necessarily sweet—and some mulberry trees not far from the trailer, running alongside the water channel, so we walked over to them to pick the fruit. He had planted them to beautify the area and also to provide a shady place for workers to sit and eat lunch. However, quite a few of the tree saplings were eaten by cows that a nearby villager puts to field for grazing. Sergey exchanged some kind words with the guy, at first, about having his animals avoid the trees, as he planted them for everyone’s use and benefit, the fruit could be eaten by all, and so forth, but the guy accused Sergey of being jealous of his cows.
If any readers happen to be in Yerevan and want some free apricots please contact me.
Labels: Nature
July 4, 2005
Up in Vanadzor
Over the last seven months I have been traveling to Vanadzor quite regularly, but until now I have not published my thoughts about what’s going on there and what the people are like.
Vanadzor is located in the Lori region, about 110 kilometers north of Yerevan, and is the third largest city in Armenia, Gyumri being the second largest. The name of the city was changed not surprisingly shortly after Armenia’s sovietization to Kirovakan, after Sergei Kirov, who was a Bolshevik revolutionary and as a Red Army soldier helped defeat the anti-Bolshevik forces in the South Caucasus back in 1920. The name was changed back to Vanadzor after independence, although the city is mainly known as Kirovakan, and people from the city are referred to as “Kirovakantsi.” There are two ways to get there from Yerevan: by way of Aparan, which is shorter, or through Dilijan via Sevan. The scenery along the latter route is spectacular to say the least, especially around Dilijan.
The city is in a valley as is Yerevan, and the two cities are roughly at the same elevation. But because Vanadzor is in closer proximity to the mountains the weather is unpredictable. Throughout June the weather was rainy and raw, as people walked around wearing jackets and sweaters. The surrounding hillsides were once completely covered by forests, but over the course of the last 15 years they were severely decimated for fuel and due to illegal logging. Before and after photos show this contrast—some should be available on the Armenia Tree Project’s Web site.
The city itself is pretty as tall conifer trees line the streets. Many of the parks and public areas however have fallen out of usability as the city administration has not bothered to restore them. The city’s main boulevards are bustling with activity, especially Dikran Metz Street, which during the day and well into the evening is filled with pedestrians, shoppers, and loiterers.
However, the city administration’s corrupt practices are clearly evident. Despite foreign financial assistance as well as state budget allocation from the Armenian government, many of Vanadzor’s streets, especially in the center, are completely dilapidated and virtually unusable. Water allocation is rationed as residents in many parts expect water every other day or even longer, but for only six hours at a time. And, because of the ‘vochinch’ mentality as well as the general complacent attitude that nothing can be done to change things, the infrastructure system continues to crumble.
The people of Vanadzor as well as much of the Lori region speak a particular dialect in which some words are entirely made up, although a few Turkish words that can even be heard in spoken Western Armenian are also used. Sentence structure as well as conjugational forms and intonations are noticeably different. My mechanic there, Hovik, speaks exclusively in Lori Armenian dialect and mixes in Russian words to describe auto parts, so not surprisingly communication between us is strained, with my invented Eastern/Western combo dialect sprinkled with mispronounced Russian words and basic English terms, such as “okay.”
Vanadzor fell victim to the 1988 earthquake and thousands of people perished. However, new housing has replaced the crumbled from the assistance of France, Ukraine, Norway, and other countries. Although the city is clearly undergoing some economic rejuvenation with new businesses opening and new buildings constructed, it is nowhere close to how it once was during the heyday of the Soviet era, when most of the population was employed at the two main chemical plants that now sit idle and in disrepair.
There does not seem to be a care in the world amongst many citizens there, as people wander across the streets without looking, similar to lambs. I attribute this lackadaisical approach to life to the air, which has narcotic properties. For the first three or four weeks of my visiting the area I had to take frequent naps as I felt fatigued, even light headed.
The people of Vanadzor have a sour expression on their faces, and generally their personalities are not very vibrant. They are notoriously stereotyped throughout Armenia as being very naïve. There is much sarcasm in the air, even amongst the youth. People seem stand offish and even indifferent, oddly enough during business transactions. Obviously there are exceptions, as I have met some people that were warm to some extent, but for the most part people are jaded.
The bad attitude I assume is probably attributed to the mass loss of work and to the psychological effects of the earthquake. However, I have not encountered that kind of behavior at all in Spitak, which with its immediate environs was the worst hit area. There is noticeably quite a bit of birth defects and retardation amongst the city’s population, the side effects of the glorious, all-employing Soviet chemical industry.
Vanadzor has a lot of opportunities and great potential, but it is up to Armenia’s citizens, with the assistance of Armenians worldwide, to realize what it could become. One of the first steps towards those goals is to eradicate corruption, which is undoubtedly the main obstacle to progress in that region. The economic boom of central Yerevan needs to branch out to the regions, and Vanadzor is no exception.
Vanadzor is located in the Lori region, about 110 kilometers north of Yerevan, and is the third largest city in Armenia, Gyumri being the second largest. The name of the city was changed not surprisingly shortly after Armenia’s sovietization to Kirovakan, after Sergei Kirov, who was a Bolshevik revolutionary and as a Red Army soldier helped defeat the anti-Bolshevik forces in the South Caucasus back in 1920. The name was changed back to Vanadzor after independence, although the city is mainly known as Kirovakan, and people from the city are referred to as “Kirovakantsi.” There are two ways to get there from Yerevan: by way of Aparan, which is shorter, or through Dilijan via Sevan. The scenery along the latter route is spectacular to say the least, especially around Dilijan.
The city is in a valley as is Yerevan, and the two cities are roughly at the same elevation. But because Vanadzor is in closer proximity to the mountains the weather is unpredictable. Throughout June the weather was rainy and raw, as people walked around wearing jackets and sweaters. The surrounding hillsides were once completely covered by forests, but over the course of the last 15 years they were severely decimated for fuel and due to illegal logging. Before and after photos show this contrast—some should be available on the Armenia Tree Project’s Web site.
The city itself is pretty as tall conifer trees line the streets. Many of the parks and public areas however have fallen out of usability as the city administration has not bothered to restore them. The city’s main boulevards are bustling with activity, especially Dikran Metz Street, which during the day and well into the evening is filled with pedestrians, shoppers, and loiterers.
However, the city administration’s corrupt practices are clearly evident. Despite foreign financial assistance as well as state budget allocation from the Armenian government, many of Vanadzor’s streets, especially in the center, are completely dilapidated and virtually unusable. Water allocation is rationed as residents in many parts expect water every other day or even longer, but for only six hours at a time. And, because of the ‘vochinch’ mentality as well as the general complacent attitude that nothing can be done to change things, the infrastructure system continues to crumble.
The people of Vanadzor as well as much of the Lori region speak a particular dialect in which some words are entirely made up, although a few Turkish words that can even be heard in spoken Western Armenian are also used. Sentence structure as well as conjugational forms and intonations are noticeably different. My mechanic there, Hovik, speaks exclusively in Lori Armenian dialect and mixes in Russian words to describe auto parts, so not surprisingly communication between us is strained, with my invented Eastern/Western combo dialect sprinkled with mispronounced Russian words and basic English terms, such as “okay.”
Vanadzor fell victim to the 1988 earthquake and thousands of people perished. However, new housing has replaced the crumbled from the assistance of France, Ukraine, Norway, and other countries. Although the city is clearly undergoing some economic rejuvenation with new businesses opening and new buildings constructed, it is nowhere close to how it once was during the heyday of the Soviet era, when most of the population was employed at the two main chemical plants that now sit idle and in disrepair.
There does not seem to be a care in the world amongst many citizens there, as people wander across the streets without looking, similar to lambs. I attribute this lackadaisical approach to life to the air, which has narcotic properties. For the first three or four weeks of my visiting the area I had to take frequent naps as I felt fatigued, even light headed.
The people of Vanadzor have a sour expression on their faces, and generally their personalities are not very vibrant. They are notoriously stereotyped throughout Armenia as being very naïve. There is much sarcasm in the air, even amongst the youth. People seem stand offish and even indifferent, oddly enough during business transactions. Obviously there are exceptions, as I have met some people that were warm to some extent, but for the most part people are jaded.
The bad attitude I assume is probably attributed to the mass loss of work and to the psychological effects of the earthquake. However, I have not encountered that kind of behavior at all in Spitak, which with its immediate environs was the worst hit area. There is noticeably quite a bit of birth defects and retardation amongst the city’s population, the side effects of the glorious, all-employing Soviet chemical industry.
Vanadzor has a lot of opportunities and great potential, but it is up to Armenia’s citizens, with the assistance of Armenians worldwide, to realize what it could become. One of the first steps towards those goals is to eradicate corruption, which is undoubtedly the main obstacle to progress in that region. The economic boom of central Yerevan needs to branch out to the regions, and Vanadzor is no exception.
Labels: Personal Experiences
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