My last three lazy hazy days...

I haven't done much the last few days. After arriving here last Wednesday from the hustle and bustle of Yeghegnadzor, I slowed down, without really wanting to. I won't get into it too much, but suffice it to say that I've been going through a bit of a lull. Partly for personal reasons I won't get into, partly because I have been sleeping a lot, even though the last two days were actually beautiful and sunny: it is currently 7 degrees. I am out and about now, in my favourite café again.

I had promised myself, and readers, that I would offer greater details as to where donations ended up being distributed, and I will offer them in a separate entry after this brief post. First, a rundown of my last few days in Yerevan.

Friday was an interesting day: I met a politician and an actor, both as a result of the very branché/connected Raffi N., with whom walking 5 blocks in Yerevan takes half an hour, given that he sees someone he knows every block, with the inevitable hellos and hugs and conversation. I have been told that making connections in Yerevan is all about hobnobbing, it's all "who you know"... couldn't be more true, although I am not naturally "that guy." Raffi certainly is.

In the morning I met with MP Hamazasp Danielyan, with the goal of asking how I could possibly offer any kind of help, whether while here or from Canada. I wasn't sure what to expect, given that I don't know anything about Armenian politics, but I understood that he is young, and progressive. After a 15 minute wait (even though the security desk had been given my name in advance), I met him outside the National Assembly (he had given my name, and irritatedly shook his head at the fact that I had to wait), and we ambled along to his office, where I met his staffer, a volunteer from Canada, Harout Manoogian. Contrary to what I was expecting, Hamazasp seemed... tired. Exasperated perhaps. The heaviness of the recent political difficulties experienced by his government was evident in his tone and persona, he seemed to be bearing the weight. For now. He seemed frustrated at the slow change in his country: it seemed, to me, as though he felt he failed somehow, or perhaps that his fellow citizens were failing. I was glad I met him, but I felt that weight too, afterwards. Maybe I was reading too much into it... we exchanged contact info and said we would keep in touch.

In front of the National Assembly building with MP Hamazasp Danielyan

Later on my German friend Tilo from Yeghegnadzor was in town, and we met for lunch with Raffi N. That evening I met with a friend of Raffi's, and possible future collaborator, Sona Tatoyan, a Syrian-Armenian actor who has lived in Yerevan for 6 months. If I understood correctly, she is writing (or has written) a series based on the Micheline Aharonian Marcom book Three Apples Fell from Heaven, but with something she described as... surrealism I think she said. She compared it a bit to the movie Pan's Labyrinth, which I've heard about but never saw. I had not read the book, it sounded interesting. So does the series. Raffi I believe wants to be involved in the process of filmmaking in the future.

That day was a bit surreal for me. It had only been two days since I had been in Yerevan, yet here I was speaking to a politician and a celebrity in one day. The whole thing made me realize how much of a de facto elite I was, in Yerevan. And knowing Raffi. After I left for the evening, I heard that restrictions were changing in Canada, something that killed part of my weekend as I hastily tried to change my flight, which brought me down the last few days. I wrote about at this at some length on Saturday, in this rather dark blog entry.

I can't recall what else I did on Saturday: I believe I woke up late and eventually went to a café to write. Afterward I went to the Ulikhanyan jazz club and enjoyed what I thought was a really good performance by young jazz musicians, which I wrote about here. Sunday was similar: I woke up late, went to a café, and wrote that last blog entry about Covid.

Yesterday morning I was supposed to go to the town of Debet in Lori province with Raffi and his wife Lara for an overnight stay, but my plans changed and I stayed in Yerevan instead. I tried to snap out of my glumness and see if I could meet with anyone else, which was after all the point of why I came to Yerevan: that, and to do volunteer work if I can. I contacted the office of Artsakh Strong, an organization run by Raffi Keuhnelian, a Montrealer who I had met years ago. He has his own business interests here in Yerevan, but also runs Artsakh Strong on the side. They have, from what I understand, done a lot to help people formerly and currently displaced from Artsakh. He was not there though, and most others were busy in a meeting, so I met with Sveta (an intern I am guessing) who kindly and patiently listened to me and answered all my questions about the organization. The idea again was to see how I could provide some help, and it was suggested that I contact several sister organizations, one of which was deemed most interesting, offering a zoom class online, from back in Canada, to teenagers. I am yet unsure as to what the class would be about, that almost seemed secondary. I liked the idea.

From there I went to another jazz club, the most renowned supposedly in Yerevan, the Malkhas jazz club. At the Ulikhanyan club, I did not have a seat: I had not known I needed to reserve, so I made sure to reserve a spot this time. I needn't have bothered: the place was practically empty. I knew that Levon Malkhasyan, the owner, and one of the founders of the Armenian jazz scene in the 1970s, would be playing: I wasn't sure what to expect. Perhaps it was because it was a Monday, in winter... but the place felt old and tired. I asked for a beer and although it was on the menu, I was told they didn't have any, and I was pushed towards the Armenian cognac (the name of which, Ararat, was emblazoned on every pillow in the club...), which I didn't want. I asked for the by-the-glass wine, it was one I didn't care for. So I relented on the cognac. I was immediately pushed to get the glass that cost 14,000 AMD (about $35 CAD!!!), I said no and kindly asked for the least expensive, still a healthy 3,100AMD ($7.50 CAD). But it was fine, and I enjoyed it. What wasn't great, for me, was that I was seated pretty far from the stage, which I didn't appreciate, given that there weren't too many people there. That was also fine: if I had loved the music I would have ask to move closer. But unfortunately,  I didn't enjoy the music. Unlike the jazz standards I heard played at the completely packed Ulikhanyan, this was more of a restaurant setting. When the owner got on stage finally (alone, and soon after joined by a bassist), he was singing in Armenian and scatting, which was interesting (I love Armenian jazz (#TigranHamasyan)), but it was essentially a piano bar atmosphere, with him as chansonnier/crooner: not my cup of tea. Moreover, the place was depressing: the piano was out of tune, the place was mostly empty except for, my best guess, a few people who like crooner music, at any rate, the Yerevan elite. The place struck me as a once upon a time great club turned mafioso hangout perhaps... I really didn’t like the vibe there, and left soon afterwards. I did catch a clip of this song, one I recognized, just before he ended their VERY short first set.

So I left, thinking I may return (I never did). Where I went was to help pack boxes for a truck that was supposed to go to Artsakh the next day. Haik Kazarian, yet another transplanted Montrealer who I believe I have met as well I am pretty sure (in Ottawa). He heads Transparent Armenia, an NGO established a few months ago, during the war, like Artsakh Strong. I had heard good things about Haik's organization from several people and was happy to have received the text that they needed a few people to help load a truck with 2 tonnes of boxes of clothes donated by a Swedish organization (18 other tonnes donated by the same organization had already been delivered): finally, something to do! A few days before, I had been placed by Haik on a list of people that could volunteer to help the organization in whatever way, which is how I found out they would be packing the truck, at 10pm. Unfortunately, when I got there, there were more people than expected, but more importantly, the truck was a van, not nearly big enough to fit the many boxes. Then they opened the van doors and it was apparently full! An exasperated Haik, who was near constantly on his phone, told me: "welcome to Armenia"... I had considered going to Artsakh with them, but I would have to get there on my own somehow, and decided against it. I should say that they were planning to go to Artsakh the next day, with the clothing, because they wanted to make sure it would actually go to those people who need it, and not be confiscated. It is a sad reality here that verification and transparency are absolutely necessary, and often done on a personal rather than institutional level...

My night still young, yet not wanting to return to the jazz club, I headed home. I have not been enjoying Yerevan, I need to adjust my mindset. That, or leave. I know I came here with a limited timeframe, and sitting in cafés and walking around this bustling city is not what I had in mind when I arrived. I am not here on vacation, I do not want to be a tourist (I never do, but especially so now), yet I can't seem to find a way to help while here, in Yerevan. I don't even feel like seeing Armenia's natural beauty right now, though it is replete with it, and Winter adds a different layer of beauty to the landscape. I don't want to spend the money I can to have a driver by my side 24 hours a day, just because I can, even if it gives him (invariably him) a job, allows him to earn a livelihood. I am a sucky tourist, but again, I did NOT come here to be one!!!

I feel irresponsible writing this, because apart from discussing how donations I brought here will be spent, I figured I would write positive things about this country, in a bid to help foster a sense of belonging to anyone reading, to help firm up ties. I want to, I really do: and to be fair, for nearly everyone, it would be a paradise to come here. Similar to going to south or central America for the average Canadian, where one's dollars can go very far. Plus, for those of Armenian origin and who speak the language, apart from a different dialect, and the remnants of the old Soviet mentality here and there left over within the guardians of the older generation, there is for most a sense of... belonging and familiarity here. The mountainous natural beauty of the place is stunning, like the Rockies, or Switzerland (so I hear, I've been to neither place). I remember feeling this way in Cuba and Mexico as well, but it's more pointed here for me.

Maybe what I am seeing now in Yerevan is a post-war boom of sorts: people want to forget about the protests, the hatred, the war, the deaths: the restaurants, cafés and clubs are bustling. There are tourists but I think it's mostly locals out and about, enjoying and celebrating life. Covid be damned... So many walking the streets and filling the places are young. Walking the streets here is like any North American or European city. Including the cars: the contrast is striking: in most villages one sees a few newer cars (many BMWs and Mercedes: status symbols), interspersed with many more zhigulis/Жигули (basically a Lada, it was a company established by Fiat in the 1960s), some that were 40 years old (they are maintained for years, a bit like the old classic American cars in Cuba), often with cracked windshields and missing seat belts. In Yerevan, almost every car seems to be a brand name known to us (Toyota, Subaru, Audi, Nissan, Range Rover, etc.) such as one would find in any Western city, and are relatively new. There are new places opening up every few blocks, and throngs of people walking the streets. It seems surreal to me, but maybe the people here really, really need this.

I remember back in 2001, I took a picture of a construction or demolished building site in Yerevan, and a passer-by said, more or less, "why are you taking a picture of that dump? There are so many beautiful things in this city!" This attitude of pride, or maybe, of keeping up appearances, is common in my culture (and so many others, of course). The pictures below show one spot which was a construction zone, and how it is being handled by the city.

Beautifying the city means construction is hidden. This fence was erected on a site that surrounds nearly a city block and hiding the construction of a large building, possibly a new hotel or office buildings, with cloth captions all around. The captions we see read "Green Yerevan" and "Let's keep our city clean"

This was the site behind the fence

That's all for now. My next blog entry will go back in time a few weeks, and I will finally outline where donations have gone.