Notes From Hairenik
February 21, 2009
I'm leaving for Boston early tomorrow morning to help out with closing our family business. Seems with the devastating economic crisis no one wants jewelry any more. Customers have been drying up since the main attraction stores have closed shop. Now because of skyrocketing rental fees three chain restaurants are turning off the grills permanently. My mother has told me that Lexington center is a ghost town. If it wasn't for Starbucks, CVS and Peet's Coffee no one would bother to go there. Even bank customers are few and far between since they're undoubtedly taking advantage of online banking.

Getting away will let me breathe some fresh air at least. Two weeks ago I started to feel tepid attitude fatigue. The all-around crabbiness, subtle rudeness and sarcasm as symptoms of the "vochinch" syndrome grate on the nerves. Everyone seems to be discontent in some way about something, save for close friends and dear ones near me. Maybe it's the cold that's bugging them. In the summer it will be the heat. There's always an excuse for bad behavior.

The rudeness I encounter rather frequently is contagious. You go to the store to buy something and are met by a clerk with a disgusted look asking, "What do you want?" Even when you tell them they find a way to continue being rude. Eventually I crack and respond rudely in kind before finally walking away without purchasing anything. It's a viscous circle. And it's long ago become too much to take.

But I can't say that such a scenario takes place on a daily basis. Some people are surely more polite than others. Nevertheless, you can grow weary of the bantering and bickering. They make it easy for you to engage them so you become miserable too. I've found that sometimes its best to stay home or go to a supermarket where you can pick and choose for yourself and pay for the stuff, barely talking to anyone in the process. Armenian logic is also maddening.

Back when I was in love with everyone and everything in Armenia I found the arguing and rudeness charming. It didn't bother me in the slightest. Four and a half years later I feel worn down. Even the crass behavior of some Bostonians is no match for that of Armenians. They're something else.

There will most likely be something in the news that I'll want to comment about during the next two weeks. The anniversary of the March 1, 2008 tragic events is fast approaching. Although I thankfully won't be here for the protests and rallies scheduled to take place in front of the Matenadaran, I'll most likely write something about it all here.

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February 16, 2009
Last night Anush dragged me off to Stop Club to hear her cousin Tigran play flute with "some band." Although most of the music I've heard at Stop  has indeed been very good, I wasn't expecting anything special, not because that I doubt the kid's abilities but for the reason that I don't like to listen to cover songs for two hours. Many rock bands that play live here resort to playing material other than their own for most of their shows. By playing "Hey Joe" or "Purple Haze" it's a way of appealing to the masses I suppose, even though anyone can go to their local music store and buy all of Jimi Hendrix's recordings on a single mp3 disc for only a few bucks. 

When we entered the place the first set was winding down and Tigran had already finished playing. The band that was performing was called Sakvoyage as I saw printed on some paper taped to the front door. For some reason I was fidgety so I calmed my nerves with a brandy. I caught a glimpse of the shaved-headed singer/guitarist just before the music stopped and noticed that he was wearing pyjamas. Then a few minutes later I saw someone else wearing nearly an identical pair. It was weird, which intrigued me, just as I was about to bolt out of there. Tigran's younger brother, Aram, told us that some seats had emptied downstairs where the band was playing, so we headed down just before the second set began. 

Sakvoyage is power trio--drums, bass and guitar. After about a half-minute I understood that they are heavily influenced by the bluesy rock pioneers of the late 60s and early 70s--Hendrix, Cream, early Led Zeppelin and Peter Green came immediately to mind. The band is led by Mher Vartikyan, the dude who was wearing the pyjamas and who is incidentally from Gyumri. All three of them are very talented and play from the gut, especially the drummer who is phenomenal. His kit incidentally is a standard set you would see used by many great jazz drummers. Strange that no matter how well or weak the other members of a band are performing, if you have a fantastic drummer who keeps great time and can make magic come from the skins and cymbals, chances are you'll always have satisfied people in the audience. Every other original tune that they played was interrupted by a Beatles or Hendrix standard to keep the kids awake perhaps. A great band like this lives inside their music as they are playing it, as opposed to those which simply play their songs without thinking too much about it. Sakvoyage knows how to improvise very well. Their playing exhibits a multi-layered, sheets of sound structure that I haven't heard from any other rock/blues band in Armenia. It's an extraordinary rock band to check out, especially if you love the blues.

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I just learned that Charles Aznavour agreed to become the Armenian Ambassador to Switzerland (where he resides) at the end of last week. He was granted Armenian citizenship last December and apparently the Armenian government had him in mind for the job for a while. Personally I wish he would stick to recording and giving an occasional concert. But at 84, he may be growing weary of the stage and studio. I wonder if he'll be allowed to work from home?

Reuters, AFP

French singer Charles Aznavour said on Thursday he had agreed to become ambassador to Switzerland for his ancestral homeland Armenia. 

Aznavour, aged 84, was born in France of Armenian parents and established an international singing career that still takes him around the globe. 

"At first I hesitated, because I thought that this is no easy matter. But then I thought that in the end, what is important for Armenia must be important for all of us," Aznavour said in comments broadcast on Armenian television. 

"I accepted this proposal with pleasure, joy and a deep feeling of honour," said Aznavour, who was granted Armenian citizenship in December, 2008. 

Born Shahnur Aznavourian in Paris to Armenian parents, the singer has maintained close links with Armenia and is among the best-known figures of France's 400,000-strong Armenian diaspora. After the 1988 earthquake in Armenia that killed 25,000 people, Aznavour set up a foundation and organised a series of charity concerts to help quake victims. 

He also serves as Armenia's permanent delegate to the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation (UNESCO). The author of over 1,000 songs, Aznavour is one of France's most popular singers and is the first French performer to have a recording that went platinum in Europe. He has sold more than 100 million records worldwide.

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February 10, 2009

On Friday morning after I started my car I noticed that my gasoline tank was almost empty so I obviously had no choice but to find a nearby station. But I needed it to be on my way to work so my commute time wouldn’t be unnecessarily stretched. From Vartanantz Street I turned right onto Nalbandyan at Sakharov Square and made my way north. I would have continued to the end at the intersection with Charents Street but left turns there are no longer permitted. They failed to install a traffic light there after the construction was completed which would make life much easier for motorists. A new road connects that area to Khanjian Street, only a few blocks away. My goal was to continue north along Mkitar Heratsi Street where there are a few gasoline stations on the right. Click here to follow along.

The only way I could think of getting there was to take a left on Moscovyan, a right on Abovyan, and a right on Koryun, which turns into Charents just after the intersection with Mkitar Heratsi Street and where I would make a left turn. When I arrived there I understood that a left turn is incomprehensibly no longer permissible. There was no other choice for me but to drive along Charents for a half mile and then make a U-turn when there was a break in oncoming traffic. This was technically illegal since you can only make a U-turn if there is a sign hanging across wires in the middle of the street, which was absent.  I was successfully able to stay right on Mkitar Heratsi Street (which turns into Miasnikian Avenue after driving under the bridge) and pulled up at a gasoline station fairly successfully. My next plan was to continue northward and make the next available left to pass through the Abovyan Street rotary and up “Monument” Road. No such luck, because the traffic light where I needed to turn was deactivated. I was compelled to continue northward along Miasnikian Avenue, hoping that a place to make a U-turn would come up within an eighth of a mile as was the case during construction of yet another pointless 50-foot long tunnel. The ability to do so has also been voided. Suddenly I realized that I could have taken an alternative route to Monument that was completed a month ago, but I had already passed the exit, which was on my immediate right.

For those who are not very familiar with Yerevan, Miasnikian Avenue is a six-lane highway, although the lane markers have long-ago faded (which is usually the case about a month after they are freshly painted). There are no left turns or U-turns permitted for that matter since the two sides of the road are separated by a continuous barrier. So I had to drive about three miles north and then bear right at the fork heading towards Nor Nork. In that area there is sort of an elevated rotary incorporating two bridges, so I figured I would be able to keep left at the exit and go around towards Kanaker-Zeitun, then eventually end up on Gomitas Street to head to work. Naturally, there is a solid line where it was possible to bear left to accomplish what I had in mind, but I crossed it anyway as I had no other choice. I had to go to work, and I wasn’t about to drive another quarter of a mile to find an intersection where I could perhaps manage to make a U-turn and proceed in the reverse direction. Then I trekked through Zeitun and onwards towards the vicinity of the open market on Gomidas where the office building in which I work is located.

After I parked my car and started walking to the office it dawned on me that left turns at many key intersections where they were once allowed in the city had become impermissable. A left onto Tigran Mets from Hanrabedutyan Street is illegal, and unless something has changed after the construction of a tunnel there a left onto Khanjian at the intersection with Tigran Mets is also forbidden. 

Miasnikian Avenue which connects the center with Nor Nork and Avan is also a major travel route to points north. But as I point out it’s not possible to access the road by taking a left onto Mkitar Heratsi Street. You would have to approach the road on Charents and make a right or use the new road which connects to Khanjian, if you can even manage to enter the Koryun-Mkitar Heratsi tunnel. It’s is no longer possible to turn left onto Khanjian from any road traveling east in the city’s center. You would otherwise have to drive south through Republic Square and down Vasken Sargsyan Street, then pass through Russia Square (beside City Hall) and make a U-turn with the goal of making a right on Krikor Luysavorich Street, a still-available left at the Circus intersection, and then onwards through the tunnel onto Khanjian. Running alongside it there is a newly paved road that cuts through some former green space before linking up with the Koryun-Mkitar Heratsi tunnel. To drive along that road you need to enter the short Khanjian tunnel.

To emphasize my point, there has never been the ability for some bizarre reason to travel south along Mashdots through what is now known as Place de France adjacent to the Opera House, so a left onto Sayat Nova is also not permitted. If you instead turn right onto Moscovyan Street and pass the Cascade area you cannot turn left onto Baghramyan and continue through Place de France, so you have to drive another eighth of a mile to the intersection at Tumanyan where a left turn is permitted. Then you can make a right onto Mashdots at the next traffic light to continue along your way. A left onto Sayat Nova from Deryan Street is also impermissible; nevertheless you can take a left at the next intersection onto Tumanyan or the one before at Moscovyan. The traffic light at Orbeli Street and Baghramyan, which was a short cut to the Kievyan Bridge and Ajapenyak, has been removed because it interfered with yet another totally unnecessary mini-tunnel that was dug there. And as far as I am aware, a left under Paregamutyun Bridge onto Kievyan is only allowed for buses, as was the case before the bridge was erected over a year ago. In other words, you can’t meet Kievyan at all while traveling north on Baghramyan.

Obviously I’m not saying that all left turns in Yerevan are outlawed. It’s just that they are prohibited where they shouldn’t be, making the commute through town extremely difficult.

Perhaps the most illogical decision made while planning the new routes though the center was the cessation of being able to turn left onto Khanjian Street from points eastbound (or left onto Vartanants or Tumanyan from Khanjian). It may have been an oversight rather than part of a grand solution, but it demonstrates in any case severe incompetence on the city planner’s part. The consequential sacrifices for commuting progress at the Koryun-Mkitar Heratsi intersection and through the circular park are also absurd. But these are perfect examples of Armenian logic at play (see here, here, and here for case scenarios), something to which I have yet to adjust. And most likely I never will.

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February 7, 2009
Last weekend I was craving barbecue since I hadn’t had meat in over a week. I called my friend Loris to see if he wanted to grab something to eat. At mid-evening we met in front of the Caucasus Tavern on Hanrabedutyan Street which prepares great food but has notoriously bad service. It’s not unusual you have to wait upwards of 10 minutes for someone to appear with menus. Once I bizarrely endured waiting 45 minutes for the check after I had asked for it. But I couldn’t think of another reliable option nearby. He recommended a new spot that had just opened recently, a quiet place as he put it called Bridge, which was situated around the corner on the basement floor of an apartment building. I told him I wasn’t in the mood for the usual breaded cutlets and greasy beef stroganoff that the “bistros” located often below street level served up, but he assured me I wouldn’t be disappointed.

One step across the threshold confirmed that he was right. Bridge is a relatively small place, with two rooms—one serving as a dining area and the front room as sort of a café, where you can have a coffee or cocktail. It’s located on the short block of Khanjian Street between Tumanyan and Sayat Nova, adjacent to the tunnel that recently opened. The décor at first glance is very similar to a restaurant on the opposite side of the center of town called The Club—exposed basalt stone walls, weathered gray floorboards, wooden tables, soft incandescent lighting and candles. The bar area I noticed had pine-topped wrought iron tables made from old Singer sewing machine stands, the ones that operated the sewing mechanism with a floor pedal. That was a memory from childhood as we had one in our home. I noticed only after a few minutes that there was something subtle about the surroundings that made me feel very at ease, which I have rarely experienced at any dining establishment. The only other place that comes immediately to mind which had that same sort of aura was the now defunct New Delhi restaurant. Bridge was empty of customers, which was not altogether odd since there are at least six competing restaurants within a 300-meter walking distance.

We asked the maître d if they indeed served barbecue, which of course was a given. He suggested the pork chops which were a little on the large side since they were closer to the neck of the animal, and I agreed immediately although Loris was a tad suspicious. A chicken filet salad on the menu caught my eye and I also wanted some yoghurt, which he brought out first, followed by the salad a short time afterwards. The yoghurt was strained, and some diced cucumbers, hot pepper powder and mint was mixed in. The salad consisted of breaded strips of chicken breast lightly fried served on a bed of romaine lettuce that was tossed with dried plums, oil, lemon and spices. Both dishes were excellent, especially the salad which was unlike anything I have ever tasted. Soon the barbecue came out, lightly seasoned and moist, which accurately hit the famished spot. We washed it all down with carbonated mineral water and naturally, a fine chilled bottle of Russian vodka called Green Mark.

After we finished our meal the owner, Sos Sahakyan, came over to ask how we liked everything. Although Sos has a background in engineering he’s been working as a chef for over 20 years in various spots around Yerevan and in Russian cities throughout the 1990s. He has been operating the kitchen of many notable cafés and restaurants downtown, like Atlantic which is located on the Opera park. Sos offered us some tasty homemade semi-dry red wine which had hints of citrus and black currant. Then Loris feeling in high spirits walked over to the baby grand piano standing in one corner of the place to play some melodies which came immediately to mind, like the love theme from The Umbrellas of Cherbourg. Can’t think why he started with that, but he didn’t play it too badly. We were in there for well over two hours without realizing the time passing by and left shortly after eleven.

Last night we stopped by again but only for a beer and munched on green and black olives. Sos was a bit worried about a lack of clientele, although he’s only been open for less than two months. Bridge is the only place I can think of now where you can feel content simply by sitting and chatting, while listening to soft jazz played over the speakers performed by the likes of Louis Armstrong and Frank Sinatra. I don’t necessary feel uncomfortable at other places I visit, nevertheless Bridge presents something unique to its customers—excellent food in a carefree atmosphere that radiates warmth, as far as Loris and I are concerned anyway. Bridge offers a variety of salads, traditional Armenian as well as European dishes and even some pizzas, at the usual prices you come by at nearly any restaurant here—between $5-10 per entrée.

On this blog I only promote, and rarely at that, spots to dine or drink that really impress me. Bridge by far is an exceptional café surrounded by a sea of unreliable and pretentious establishments. If you’re hungry and looking for a clean, respectable place to eat, you’re not going to be disappointed at Bridge by any means.

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A few weeks ago while riding the metro to work I noticed a sign in the train car reading that consumers should be sure to take sales receipts so that they will win money. I didn't understand the logic in that naturally so I shrugged it off and went to the office. 

Turns out that the government is now requiring and enforcing that all stores, no matter how small, install cash registers, or calculators at least as many vendors are using, to print receipts. The paper rolls that the receipts are printed on are government issued. Each receipt has printed on it the total amount of goods sold, the date and time of the sale, and some odd identification numbers. The receipts are known as "fiscal checks." Even if you buy a 70 cent loaf of bread you are issued a receipt, in addition to the store receipt, if it even prints them. 

On the back of each check is an eight-digit number which ends with an Armenian letter. Apparently at some time in the near future these numbers will be called, like in a lottery, and if the number called matches the one on your receipt you can win money--up to $16,000 if you're lucky enough. I'm guessing they're going to do this on public television--I haven't heard otherwise. I am not ashamed to admit that I am indeed saving all the receipts that I receive, in case I happen to win enough cash to put down towards the payment of an apartment. You never know.

The tax authorities are cracking down on tax evasion, so everyone has to pay up no matter what kind of business they are running. So far the only people who seem to be getting away from using registers are vendors in open markets, who I doubt pay taxes to begin with. 

If issuing government-mandated receipts are going to ensure vendors pay taxes then I am all for it. Too few people pay taxes in Armenian society, especially the oligarchs who report losses to avoid paying what they really should be. 

Taxes are taken out of my monthly paycheck, and once a year I have to pay automobile-related taxes, like clean air tax--I have no idea where that money goes. Naturally I have no issues with having to pay them since I live in Armenian society. So what's the excuse of thousands of citizens who make money but refuse to pay?

There's some more information about this issue here.

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