Last night Anush and I went to Yerevan’s Opera House to hear Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No. 2 performed by the Armenian Philharmonic Orchestra featuring pianist Katharina Treutler. The entire concert, which also included two pieces by Tchaikovsky, was conducted by the APO’s Artistic Director and Principal Conductor Eduard Topchjan.

I've heard the second piano concerto performed twice in Yerevan--the first time being in 2002 when the APO was performing it accompanied by a visiting female pianist from Russia in the now defunct Cinema House while the Opera House was being renovated. Yesterday Anush purchased two tickets at only 500 dram each for the expansive upper balcony, which is the arguably the best area to listen in the entire hall, but because the concertgoers were so few in number--there was only about 15 of us--we were told to move to the lower balcony, or the "amphitheater." Aram Khachaturian Hall was not even a third full, which was a real shame considering the spectacular music that was performed during the evening.

I don't know of any other city in the world where you can hear classical music performed by first-rate musicians for less than $2.00. Unfortunately, whenever I go to the symphony I encounter this same sad situation. About half the people in attendance seem to be music students. Anush’s cousin Aram, who is studying trumpet in the state music conservatory, goes to nearly all the classical performances at the Opera House. Last night while we were chatting during the intermission he was nodding and smiling to classmates appearing from all directions.

I can't remember exactly where I first heard Sergei Rachmaninov's second piano concerto. Most likely it was the theme melody of the second movement that was "sampled" in the song "All By Myself" by Eric Carmen from the 1970s, only I naturally didn't realize that at the time being a little kid. Then when I heard the same music in the film "Brief Encounter" by David Lean from 1945 at a screening at the Brattle Theater in Cambridge nearly 10 years ago I began to just comprehend the intensity that the music transmitted.

German-born Katharina Treutler, who has won several prizes in Europe, gave a spellbinding, masterful performance of Rachmaninov's second, and the orchestra was just as strong. The musicians were most vivacious in the last movement, however, especially towards the end of the work. Treutler's playing was elegant, nowhere near as heavy handed as I have heard on the recording I own with Arthur Rubinstein on piano. I should also mention that she looked absolutely stunning in her strapless green-satin dress--she's a gorgeous woman. In retrospect we should have sat down below so I could get a better look at her long alabaster arms gliding gracefully across the keyboard. At the end of the concerto she returned from backstage to perform an unidentified short solo piece that was no more than four minutes in length, then departed the stage for the last time.

The second half of the concert was dedicated to Tchaikovsky. Two works for orchestra were performed, including his familiar “Romeo and Juliet” overture, and the “Francesca da Rimini” symphonic fantasy, which I had never heard before. The orchestra was fairly large—there must have been over 80 people on stage for the overture, and even more musicians came out for the second work. On the far right of the stage I counted seven double basses alone, and they didn’t all fit in one row—one man had to sit all by himself nearly out of sight consoling his contrabass. Both works were extraordinary, the second one especially so, thunderous with heavy percussion and strings in some parts but gentle moving with harp accompaniment in others.

I am going to be honest and say that I haven’t seen more than two or three symphony orchestras perform live in concert in my lifetime, but I have heard my fare share of classical recordings. Call me patriotic or whatever but the sound and clarity of the APO is superb. The orchestra really blew me away during their performance of Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 10 nearly two years ago, one of the most amazing concerts I have ever attended. The musicianship of this orchestra is stellar, but it’s a pity that there are few people left in Yerevan to appreciate it. Aram Khachaturian Hall should have been packed last evening. The harmonies produced in that building during each performance deserve the renowned respect that they command.

Photo credit: ArmenianPages.com

Labels: Arts and Entertainment, Music

Photographs of Tsitsernakaberd Armenian Genocide Memorial, April 24, 2010 by Christian Garbis.

Last Sunday I was roaming around Saryan Park, which is adjacent to the Opera House on the corner of Sayat Nova and Mashdots Streets, while waiting for a friend. The park is the location of the original vernisage, where local Armenian artists proudly display their works on Saturdays and Sundays.




The paintings that are for sale at the other vernisage, where you can buy anything from hand-carved backgammon boards to handmade silver jewelry to chemistry sets, pale in comparision. With only a few exceptions, those works are the types you would find in low-end shopping malls or flea markets in the US--mostly paint-by-numbers paintings with aboslutely no originality or expression conveyed by the artist.

You can, however, find some true gems from local artists at the real vernisage near the statue of Mardiros Saryan (who was a famous 20th century post-impressionist painter). I can't say that everything is worth owning, nevertheless most of the painters are indeed very talented, and they all for the most part paint in their own unique styles, save for those who are simply reproducing (and failing at that) works by Dali and Picasso. If you are searcing for paintings from Armenian artists but don't know where to turn, that's the place to start browsing.




Saryan Park incidentally is one of the last green spaces that hasn't been tainted by ugly, stoic and obtuse cement structures serving as oligarch-controlled gaudy restuarants that are strewn across the Opera Park just across the street. There is only one permanent structure, but it's located on the corner of Baghramian and Moscovyan Streets and therefore doesn't intrude. Only two sidewalk cafes are found there, one of which, known as "Gazirok" but is actually called "Hripsime," has been working since Soviet times--at least 30 years, but most likely longer. There's no pretentions at those cafes--they are what they should be, with plastic chairs and tables protected by shade umbrellas set up on patios. It's where middle-aged men get together to smoke, have a bite to eat and gaily down shots of vodka. No rabiz found. At "Gazirok" the waitresses are rather friendly and the beer is ice cold, not to mention relatively cheap. You would probably pay twice as much across the street.  It's not fancy by any means, but I feel more relaxed there than at any other outdoor cafe in all of dusty Yerevan.


Photos taken with my Nokia N86 8MP

Labels: Film and Art, Photography, Thoughts and Musings

Yesterday on my other blog Footprints, I wrote a post about the significance of the US president using the word "genocide" in his annual April 24 address to Armenian-Americans each year when referring to the mass annihilation of the Armenians of Western Armenia in 1915. You can read it by clicking here, and please leave comments if you feel inclined to do so.

Labels: Armenian Genocide

I’m tired of playing it safe. For well over two weeks I’ve been mostly confined to home when not at the work place, laying back and hoping that I didn’t “catch cold” as some point during the day like so many paranoid Armenians, thereby flaring up the pneumonia.

Since I can’t withstand cigarette smoke and shouldn’t really be drinking alcohol I’m not socializing with friends in public places. I've barely been updating this blog recently. But I’m supposed to be getting fresh air, yet the exhaust from cars is also detrimental when walking anywhere. Good thing Armenia had Monday off from work for “Merelots,” or Memorial Day. I can’t remember when I last left Yerevan it’s been so long. Today was the day. There’s no better place to breathe in clean, invigorating mountain air than Aragatsotn. Destination: Amberd.

As soon as we hit the Yerevan-Ashtarak highway one look at snow-encrusted Mount Aragats was enough to convince me that Amberd would not be reachable. Although the base of the mountain was green, the top half was still completely blinding white, a clear indicator that north of Byurakan would not be smooth sailing. There were three of us plus Chi Chi, and we weren’t about to turn around and go home. We decided to visit the stone alphabet located at the turnoff to the mountain instead.

I can’t remember exactly when the alphabet was installed. I think it was 2004 or perhaps sooner. All thirty-eight letters of the Armenian alphabet are depicted there, carved from tuff stone about four feet in height. Each letter rests on a concrete base that is hidden by a pile of stones, and in the evenings the entire camp is illuminated with spot lights positioned at the base of each letter or group of letters, as not all of them are freestanding. There are also a few statues on the site including one depicting Mesrob Mashdots, the inventor of the Armenian alphabet. Other than being a wonderful spot to enjoy the fantastic scenery, the main purpose—at least in my opinion—for going there is to take a photo of yourself in front of your name’s first initial.


Anushik, her sister Gohar and I grabbed Chi Chi and ran to the “Ch” so we could secure a place for a photo before other visitors managed to reach it first. Turns out there was a large black dog waiting for Chi Chi hiding close behind it, but fortunately, there was no eye contact and subsequent canine drama.


The next stop was naturally Saghmosavank, which is a stone’s throw away. Today the church was open so I went inside to light some candles. Outside Chi Chi was running around with Anushik, who tried to persuade the puppy—still inexperienced in navigating across treacherous Armenian territory, like flat, green landscapes—to jump across a very narrow irrigation water ditch about three inches wide that sliced across the monastery’s grounds. Instinctively, Chi Chi attempted to simply trot across an unanticipated stream of water to trip her up, and she soaked the bottom of her new sweater that my mother had knitted and sent in the mail. Fortunately, little doggie did not soak herself in the process. I stood on the edge of the cliff there, overlooking the river several hundred feet below, and breathed slowly in and out at least twenty times in an effort to regenerate my lungs. I cannot think of any other spot so close to the city where the air is pristine. You feel invigorated spiritually, physically and mentally in only a few minutes of strolling about the Saghmosavank grounds, your body purges itself of impurities lingering in the heart and mind. It is what makes this humble, unobtrusive sanctuary so glorious.

My yearning for adventure had taken hold, so I decided to once again search for the monastery that has been eluding me for years—Tegherivank. I first learned about the place when glancing through “The Stone Garden Guide - Armenia & Karabagh” several years ago. When photographer Julie Dermansky was in Armenia in 2008 she happened to have the second edition and gave it to me before she left. Today marked the third attempt at reaching Tegherivank based on the seemingly simple directions contained in the guide. It reads as follows:

To get there, from Yerevan drive beyond Ashtarak, over the double-span four-lane bridge, and toward Gyumri. The divided four-lane highway narrows to an undivided two-lane road immediately after Ashtarak. At this point, after you have passed through Ashtarak and the road has narrowed to two lanes, turn right (north) at the village of Agarak and continue northward up to the top of this windy mountain road.

The problem is, when you “continue northward” through Agarak without veering to the left or right you end up in Byurakan and nowhere near the monastery. The authors are correct in that you must go north, but they fail to define the roads you need to follow to reach your destination. A journey from the main road that, according to the authors, should take only fifteen minutes ended up being forty-five with the backtracking due to faulty roadside directions and bad inherent navigational skills. In the main square of Agarak it is necessary to bear left and then after driving a kilometer or two you need to turn right to enter the village of Aghtsk. In town at an intersection marked by a small group of men absorbed in a game of Belot on a corner, you must turn right and follow the serpentine stretch of asphalt that travels northward—sort of. In the distance when you look up the monastery is in full view. At the next fork in the road you have to stay left to make it up the mountain. At every crossing we came upon I went the wrong way, following the advise of middle-aged men walking aimlessly or loitering to “follow the road all the way up.”

Whenever I come upon a landmark that is new to me, especially a place that is extremely difficult to reach like for instance the majestic Tadev, I feel like a champion. Tegherivank is from the 13th century, erected with charcoal gray and black stone, and is extremely well preserved. There is a central dome and two smaller ones near the front entrance.




Since this monastery is not on the schedule of excursions organized by the tour agencies, the area is tranquil with no cafés nearby filled with noisy tourists or nouveau riche Yerevanites. There are even some picnic tables on the grounds where you can eat a lunch with an appetite expanded by an absolutely extraordinary view of Mount Ararat.


As is nearly always the case with Armenian monasteries, Tegherivank was constructed on the lip of a deep gorge. Across the canyon is the village of Byurakan, where the observatories can be seen. Just behind the church, however, about 500 meters away is an immense radar dish built into the hillside, which looks like something straight out of Doctor Who. I am assuming it serves some purpose related to astrophysics, I didn’t have a chance to ask around.


The tribulations that we faced along the way to reach that serendipitous plateau were well worth it. For anyone looking to behold an iconic monument to greater Armenian times that hasn’t been readily seen, find a way to get there—you won’t be disappointed.

Just a few words about visiting places that are “off the beaten path” or less frequented. If you are unfamiliar with Armenian roads and navigating through villages, I do not recommend that you rent a car and throw caution to the wind trying to find a destination. It’s better to hire a professional driver in Yerevan who has a SUV to take you where you want to go. They are not hard to find—a neighbor of mine who has a Toyota RAV4 was once working as Kirk Kerkorian’s chauffeur whenever he visited Armenia. But if you are compelled to do it on your own, make sure you know exactly where you are going to save yourself a lot of grief and car repairs, too, since some roads are very difficult to drive on. I made the mistake of relying on the horrendous directions contained within that otherwise excellent reference guide to points unknown one too many times. I used the "Armenia & Karabagh" guide in 2009 to try to find the fabled Gndevank Monastery near Jermuk only to realize ten kilometers down the road that it was extremely perilous and in any case, virtually impassable. The conditions of roads can change overnight—in parts of Kotayk for instance it is not unusual for short sections of road to suddenly drop away in a compact landslide. Invest in a detailed map sold at the Armenia Information center on Nalbandyan Street, and be confident that you can communicate with people speaking strange vernacular in rural Armenia from whom directions are vital when the sun is going down and you’re fifty or more kilometers away from base central. And don’t forget to breathe deeply.


Photos taken with my Nokia N86 8MP
All photos copyright © Christian Garbis

Labels: Architecture, Armenian Churches, Armenian Dogs, Nature, Personal Experiences, Photography

Now that my Armenian pneumonic plague is wearing off, I can manage to write a few words on this blog.

Turns out the severe shortness of breath and fever I was experiencing were prime signs of pneumonia. So I was laid up in bed for 10 days coughing my lungs out and sweating the fever out of my body. The doctor prescribed antibiotics for three days, and that was definitely beneficial. I finally managed to come into work on Monday, albeit for half the day, and am breathing easier, although I'm not out of the woods yet. If I am not careful there may be a chance of the pneumonia coming back, according to information that I read online. So regrettably, no beer or wine for me just yet.

Easter is upon us, and in a couple of days Armenians round the world will be busy smashing hard-boiled eggs dyed crimson red with the juice of boiled onion skins in the competition to be Easter Bunny King--or maybe I have that last part wrong. I honestly don't know where the tradition of egg fighting came from, or whether if it is practiced only by Armenians. Some people like to cheat--a guy at work already has a pastel-painted egg made from plaster ready that he will give his nephew so he can reign as champion. I have fond memories of my grandmother always making plenty of Easter choreg, the tradidional Armenian sweet bread topped with sesame seeds, which unfortuately is not popular in Armenia and can't be store bought. Some people I know--namely Anush's family members and friends--have been fasting for lent, an common practice here. On Easter the meal of choice is fish, so I'm guessing my mother-in-law will be making plenty of it on Sunday since she hasn't eaten meat in 40 days.

In any case, if I don't manage to write again before the holiday, have a Happy Easter.

Labels: Thoughts and Musings