Last weekend while bored out of my skull I called some people to take a ride with me to Tegherivank. Although I had already gone there back in April, the monastery is close enough to Yerevan for a two-hour excursion. Not only was I able to break free from the insanity of the city, I could savor the mind-numbing nature of Armenia high up over humanity. Those monks knew what they were doing centuries ago...



This time around I was able to take some relatively decent photos of the compound. This area is very plain from a distance, there's nothing particularly spectacular in terms of the scenery (although the entirety of Yerevan is in full view). But like any of these monasteries, when the place is quiet, you are in no hurry to leave. There was a family having a mellow picnic at one of the tables on the grounds. Some people from nearby villages came by to perform the sacrifice to God, known as "madagh" in Armenian, with a live, helpless chicken held upside down by the feet. Madagh is done when someone manages to avoid a near life-threatening accident of some kind, or when a perceived miracle takes form. I didn't bother to observe what was coming.








From the photographs you may have noticed that this 13th century monastery--which is essentially a church within a church like many others--has two twin steeples in the front and a central dome in the mid-rear of the structure. Yet when you walk into the church, you cannot see the interior of the two steeples, as if they didn't exist. The caretaker explained that in the far right front corner of the building there is a hole in the ceiling that was closed from above with a large stone when enemies were on the way. The hidden second floor, which was accessible only by a ladder, was used as a storage area, to keep foodstuffs and probably important literature safe throughout the year. In the photo below you can see the inside of the right steeple from the perspective of someone looking up through the hole in the ceiling.






This is a very strange building in that depending on what corner of the compound you are standing, the monastery can look completely different. I haven't noticed the same effect anywhere else. You could take photos from various perspectives, behind tree branches and high blades of grass, and fool people into thinking that you had visited several monasteries in one afternoon.

A friend was explaining to me last night that there are a couple of other monasteries in that area of Aragatsotn which are also not frequently visited by tourists, like Tegherivank, although they are not as well preserved. Photos to come...


All photos by Christian Garbis

Labels: Architecture, Armenian Churches, Photography

I was thankfully able to see two more films that were competing at the Golden Apricot Film Festival during the weekend. Both of them were definitely worth seeing in my opinion. And if I forgot to mention in my previous post, as with virtually all the other films that I saw, impressively both English and Armenian subtitles were displayed, with no one tortuously reading a translation of a script at a deafening volume, as was the case two years ago when I saw Michelangelo Antonioni's "The Red Desert" (which is incidentally a highly overrated, annoyingly tedious film, but anyway...).

"White Material" (2009, dir. Claire Denis). This film tells the story of a woman named Maria, played by the veteran actress Isabelle Huppert, working on a coffee plantation in an unnamed country in Africa --probably a former colony of France since everyone is speaking French -- who obstinately refuses to leave her work behind and protect her family from the rebel threat ravaging the region. The rebel troops are composed of children and teenagers, pistols and machetes in hand, eagerly waiting to purge the countryside of whites who are seen as oppressive. Andre, Maria's husband played by Highlander Christopher Lambert, cannot convince her that they should leave immediately when arrangements are made for their escape to France. The entire film takes place over a span of two days, during which things fall apart rapidly. Their mentally fragile teenage son after being humiliated by two armed rebel boys who manage to enter the plantation grounds when everyone is oblivious, ends up assisting the rebel battalion to bring things to a boil, while Maria remains defiant to the end. This film was unfortunately screened from what seemed to be a rather low-quality DVD given the muted colors and lack of sharpness, although the resolution wasn't bad. This is the kind of compelling film that you ruminate over for a couple of days after you leave the theater. Highly recommended.

"Poetry (2010, dir. Lee Chang-don). "Poetry" is about an elderly woman named Mija (brilliantly portrayed by Yoon Jung-hee) who one day decides to take a month-long poetry writing class. On the same day she learns of a suicide of a young teenage girl, a classmate of her spoiled grandson who she is raising. After being called to a meeting of five men whose boys attend the same school as the girl, Mija learns that her grandson was part of a pack of six that was regularly raping her. They decide that the best way to handle the situation discretely is to offer a monetary payment to the girl's mother, with Mija being unable to pay her share. Meanwhile, Mija, who is annoyed by her recent forgetfulness of words, is diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease. But the real story behind this film is about finding one's place on earth, and how to balance upholding personal morales with prudent practicality, then best express that revelation in words. This is a beautiful, moving film, a true masterpiece of Asian cinema. Highly recommended.

To read the list of winners you can read the press release at the Golden Apricot web site. I noticed that the nihilistic film "My Joy" took second prize for reasons I will never comprehend. I guess some of the jurists get their kicks from sadistic, pointless movies. Although I didn't see the winning film, "Kosmos," I really believe that "Poetry" should have at least placed second. In terms of storyline and overall high quality of the acting, not to mention cinematography, the film deserved more respect from the jury.

Top photo: Everett Collection/Rex Features
Bottom photo: Lee Chang-don

Labels: Arts and Entertainment, Film and Art, Music

As is the case every year, due to my daytime work schedule I am able to see films being shown at the seventh annual Golden Apricot International Film Festival in Yerevan only in the evenings. The festival will unfortunately be wrapping up Sunday evening. Here’s a quick synopsis of the films—three of which were impressively projected from celluloid and not digital sources—I’ve seen so far:

“The Beekeeper,” starring Marcello Mastroianni (1986, dir. Theo Angelopoulos). This film is about a middle-aged man who quits his job as a teacher in rural Greece and leaves his home and wife behind to follow in the beekeeping traditions of his father and forefathers. Along the way he stumbles upon a chance meeting with a high-spirited, oversexed teenager and can’t shake her loose on his travels along the Greek coastline, making stops in villages to see friends and set his beehives in pastures. The cinematography is stunning, the acting is top-notch. Seems Marcello was actually speaking his lines in Greek, since it indeed sounded like his voice, although I can’t be sure of this. The ending was weird, which from personal experience viewing European films for well over 20 years was expected. Recommended.

“Venezzia” (2009, dir. Haik Gazarian). The story of this film, which was shown in the Poghosyan Gardens (a.k.a., Lover’s Park), is set during World War II in Venezuela, about an American communications specialist named Frank Moore who is on a mission to intercept radio messages that may be dubious. Within hours after he arrives there, he meets the wife of the local Captain who is hosting him and providing the equipment to undertake his responsibilities. The wife, Venezzia, naturally for any love story is drop-dead gorgeous, and Frank seems to spend most of his time hanging out with her instead of doing his job. The remainder of the film involves escapades in steamy romance, espionage and conflict, again typical of war-time love stories. Recommended.

“My Joy” (2010, dir. Sergei Loznitsa). “My Joy,” a joint German-Ukrainian-Dutch production, is mainly set in a God-forsaken region of rural Russia. A sensible truck driver who is determined to deliver his load gets sidetracked on a detour and loses his way. Eventually he his hijacked, hit across the head from behind with a log, and becomes a living zombie. What follows is 90 minutes of nightmarish scenes from the past and present leading up to random, senseless killings. Despite that the cinematography, set design and the contrasting colors were marvelous throughout, it ranks as one of the most horrific films I have ever seen. The movie even starts with a scene of a murder having already been committed, the body thrown into a ditch, then covered in cement and buried under landfill. The message I came away with was that Russians living in remote parts of Russia can be cruel, greedy, homicidal maniacs. I left the theater wanting to tear out the few hairs left on my head, in high distress (a half-liter bottle of ice-cold Pilsner Urquell took the edge off immediately). Not recommended.

“Cold Fever” (1995, dir. Fridrik Thor Fridriksson). This story is about a young Japanese businessman on a mission to find a specific river in an isolated patch of Iceland where his parents perished during a visit. The storyline is witty, the characters quirky (Lily Taylor, one of the goofiest, eccentric actresses in cinema today had a supporting role), and the photography of the majestic frozen countryside absolutely stunning. The film also presented a fascinating glimpse into Icelandic culture, bizarre cuisine and its cheery, at times aloof people, which I am assuming is partly accurate since the filmmaker is a native of Reykjavik. “Cold Fever” is a short, but wonderful, touching film. Highly recommended.

I hope to see more films this weekend if time permits.

Labels: Arts and Entertainment, Film and Art

The seventh anual Golden Apricot International Film Festival kicked off last night at Cinema Moscow on Abovian Street.






The festival premiered with Henri Verneuil classic film from 1991, "Mayrig," starring Omar Sharif and Claudia Cardinale, who is one of the most beautiful women that has ever graced European cinema, in the 1960s especially. Claudia was the honored guest last evening, a living legend who sparkled as she made her way across Charles Aznavour Square.



Claudia was accompanied by the director of the festival, Harutyun Khachatryan, Prime Minister Tigran Sarkisian and the Mayor of Yerevan, Gagik Beglaryan, who probably doesn't even know who she is, but that's besides the point.

Naturally, entrance to this screening was by invitation only. I can't imagine how people actually got tickets, I am assuming through business or political connections.


The man in the middle of the above shot with the video camera is Atom Egoyan, the Canadian filmmaker of Armenian descent, who essentially is an unsung genius of modern cinema. Beside him barely visible is his wife and muse, actress Arsinee Khanjian.

This morning at 10:00 am we saw one of the first films of the festival, a Spanish film called "Woman Without Piano" directed by Javier Rebollo. It is a visual document taking place over a 24-hour span of a mildly eccentric middle-aged woman married to a taxi driver who works at home as a hair removal specialist. Bored of her daily routine, in the late evening after her husband goes to bed she dusts off an old black wig hidden in the back of an overhead closet and runs away from home. Throughout the rest of the film the viewer follows her around in the dark, first at a Madrid train station, then walking around town after the station is mysteriously evacuated. She meets a young guy who is on his way back to Poland where he needs to pay off an unpaid bank loan and serve a one-week jail sentence as a penalty. They aimlessly wander the streets, and get separated along the way before reuniting, the woman (who towards the end of the film is identified by the name Rosa) taking frequent breaks from her roaming by chain smoking and drinking snifters full of brandy. At one point they even share a hotel room together. Back at the station, when the Polish kid is mysteriously taken way as she observes from afar while buying peach juice, she decides to return home and persist a little longer. It was a film about intersecting lives, lonely souls trying to find a place in the world. There are no deep underlying messages, but there doesn't ever have to be in cinema. That is what's so magic about the visual medium.

Tonight I am off to see a Theo Angelopoulos film from 1986 called "The Beekeeper," starring Marcello Mastroianni. I have seen two other films by the director, namely "Ulysse's Gaze" and "Eternity and a Day." His films are rather long and can be a bit tedious, but they are strangely beautiful. Festival updates to come.

Labels: Arts and Entertainment, Film and Art, Personal Experiences, Photography

Today was Vardavar, the pagan-turned-Christian holiday, which is celebrated by people drenching one another with buckets of water all day long.  Some kids are getting creative by using high-pressure water guns that shoot streams at a considerable distance.


Naturally I observed some of the hysteria from my front and rear balconies. The street were nearly void of pedestrians all day long, reminiscent of the small town run by bandits in Akira Kurosawa's "Yojimbo." Instead, for some reason the street was filled mostly with teenage, testosterone fueled boys and the courtyard was occupied by smaller children and girls in their teens. The sexually repressed, hyperactive guys were basically throwing water on cars passing by and at each other, while they for the most part completely ignored the girls walking along the sidewalk, their own buckets in hand. Everyone was getting their water from the same source--the fountain located on the street corner just under my balcony.


The guys who chose to drench actual people for some odd reason chose defenseless middle aged men who were walking to the store or parking their taxis. Naturally they weren't all that pleased and arguments ensued. But the guys, rather than backing off and apologizing, instead confronted the disgruntled older men, who were obviously in no mood to participate in the Vardavar festivities to begin with, in a stand off.  When drivers protested, the kids hurled their empty buckets and made hand gestures at the cars as they drove away.



So rather than having a fun afternoon, the adolescent boys used the opportunity to take out their aggression on hapless bystanders and essentially prove their relevance in the world, that they are self-entitled to do as they please. Meanwhile, the completely ignored girls are standing around, nervously waiting for the guys to chase after them. That rarely happened, which was surreal to say the least.  The younger boys, however, had no problem tossing water at the girls, which was certainly encouraging since it reflected normal, natural behaviour.


Whatever -- these are some photos that I managed to take, catching the kids in action.  I was not able to capture an actual soaking unfortunately, since it has proven to be extremely difficult. There was no way I was I about to take pictures at street level because I didn't want my $500 camera to get ruined, I'm rather fond of it. Plus, my wife forbade me to leave the house during the day so I wouldn't get drenched, not that I would have cared given that it was 100 degrees F, so long as my camera was left at home.











Vardavar is a weird holiday when you think about it. But the young kids especially have a lot of fun, and that's ultimately what counts.

Labels: Personal Experiences, Photography

On Sunday Anush and I went on a hike to Mt. Azhdahak with a group of eager adventure seekers from my workplace. I would have posted this entry sooner had I not accidentally deleted the photos from the camera's SD card. Fortunately due to the mysterious wonders of complex algorithms and hidden cache, most of them were recovered.

Azhdahak is located in the Gegharkunik region, as part of the Geghama mountain chain. It is apparently the third highest mountain in Armenia. There are two ways to get there--via Lake Sevan, which is an arduous, committed journey that can potentially take days, or through the highlands of Kotayk via Geghard, which is how we went.



But in order to access the wavy plateau to make your trek to the mountain, it's necessary to climb the rocky hills, or rather other mountains, first along perilous dirt roads. This was accomplished by us cramming into two UAZ 4 x 4 all-terrain transport vans, which along with the "Vilis" sport utility vehicle made by the same company, are among the toughest vehicles manufactured in Russia (both are actually military vehicles). That 25 kilometer long sea-sickness inducing climb took about two hours with short stops along the way to gaze at ancient petroglyphs etched on flat stone faces and a peculiar stone monolith that Yezidi Kurds walk around several times for a successful marriage and fertility. There are many camp grounds occupied by Yezidis in those parts where they tend sheep and goats in the summer months.






The hike to the mountain from our drop-off location was 7.5 kilometers long, over several babbling brooks, rocky patches and at my count, eight snow fields, the last one being massive.  Just before my phone's battery ran out the GPS reading that it picked up showed that we were 10,500 feet above sea level near the base of the mountain. Azhdahak's summit is at an elevation of 11,801 feet.


Azhdahak is a dormant volcano, and the tons of tuf stone at the top and around the mountain demonstrate clear evidence of that. There is a small lake that occupies the floor of volcano's crater, which is accessible by a steep climb down. Anush and I did not actually go to the summit even though it was only another 100 feet or so above the lake. It was difficult to make the final ascent because I kept running out breath, although I did not feel physically tired, and just sitting (or napping in Anush's case) beside the lake for a half hour was enough for us. On second thought, it would have made sense to go up. There is a spectacular view of Lake Sevan from there.



The trek back to the vehicles was another 7.5 kilometers, perhaps a bit less because we took a "shortcut" by descending snow-covered hillsides. Luckily, I only fell on my ass a couple of times, which is a feat being the uncoordinated klutz that I am.


Our guides were Vladimir and Karen, both fantastic, warm-hearted guys. Actually it was Karen, an alpinist, who knows the landscape perfectly and got us there and back safely--an amazing guy. This was an awesome experience that I'm glad I didn't pass up.


For those who are inclined to go on hiking trips in Armenia, leave a comment if you intend to climb Azhdahak and I can put you in touch with those guys.

Labels: Nature, Personal Experiences, Photography