This chapel has cockrel heads on the entrance. A bit of dryed blood on the floor. Pieces of the animal tied in rope on the left. Jesus is glued on the walls with little bits of wax. If you find a stone on the floor you can glue it on the wall and have your wish come true, blessed in blood and by the holy spirit. The light comes in from the holes between the rocks and heavan watches while you pray. The mountains around answer in silence, using words that only the heart can understand.
Archives for the month of: August, 2010
It’s 4h30 and I woke up with a cockroach walking over me. We were not supposed to still be in this room and that’s it, I’m not staying anymore. I can bear to know them around the bathroom and even smashing one before going to sleep but this too much intimacy for me. We’re sharing a room with no lights besides the main one, that seems more like calling factory workers to clock in than to invite to a good night of sleep , which brings me to my present position, on a chair near the door, using the hall light, trying not to wake up my roommate. Helas to paper and pen. I guess that’s how I’ll find out how this city looks like in early in the morning. Sunrise should be around 6h30 and will erase the silence of this early hour. It’s still possible to hear some cars passing by but we can call it silence when compared with the daily sound bites I was told there is a bakery around Republic Square and maybe that’s a good spot for early birds – bakery meaning a store where they sell bread and pastries, not a place where you eat toasts and coffee and milk and pasteis de nata. I always miss that about Portugal. Six years ago I was living in Madrid and whenever I got to Portugal that would be the first thing I’d do right after getting out of the bus, uma torrada e uma meia de leite.It’s in these small things we realize how we build borders.
Today is 6 months since my father died, tomorrow it will be one year since our lives changed for good, it was when the concept of irreversibility enter my life abruptly. This thought is deep rooted in my mind, all the other thoughts touch it and connect with it. On 26th August 2009 I was having my ID card done, officialising that my identity was about to be run over and rebuilt again. This is how I never take it from my wallet anytime I have to fulfil a form, I now exactly the date I should right down. There is a tea house in Porto that my father liked a lot, who wouldn’t, as it has the best pasteis de nata of the city. They’re not the common ones, they’re more similar to Lisbon’s pasteis de Belem, delicious. If you’re near Porto just look for Chicara, on Rua do Gondarem. You won’t regret having a tea with fancy old ladies, warm scones, and the pastries, of course. After his surgery, my father offered these pastries to the surgery team, nurses and doctors. He was a gentle person. I wouldn’t as I understood that they were doing their job, being paid and getting full social recognition. Knowing you’re good and efficient should be rewarding in itself. Pastries are for light minded afternoons. While he was sick my mother and me ate a lot of sweets. I never ate so much chocolate as last winter, winter makes me crave for chocolate and last winter I was having it all the time. Dark chocolate, tea, almonds cookies and cheese. It rained a lot, we were at home eating chocolate. In February we were pale and overweight. There is a cloud that blurs those times. Clouds are natural pain killers produced by the brain, always focused on the survival race. (Thought: physical clouds, drops-of-water clouds as a manifestation of god; clouds transform themselves in elephants and trees, harmless pieces of nature, you don’t find your pain in clouds, just dreams. I’m not preaching about almighty minds, I believe in a god with no brains).
Today I’ll be taking photos an event so I’ll need some Armenian coffees to keep my eyes open behind the camera. Strange things happen when you travel. I’m drinking coffee, no hands shacking effect – I stopped drinking coffee two years ago, as my hands would start trembling. I’m smoking menthol cigarettes. Some weeks ago I was feeling like drinking coke all the time – that must be the waking up ‘n refresh kick that Yerevan asks for. I started eating meat – but that was before coming here, so it doesn’t count for these mathematics. I like eating cucumber at breakfast – before I barely ate it. I drink salty yoghurt with pizza. There nothing strange about drinking milk with sardines (note: these metaphor is bases on true facts, for more information ask A. M. S., my brother). Strangeness is in the eyes of who strangeness sees. Things change. But I still don’t like cockroaches.
We spent a week in Ijevan. It was the first time I got out of the fortress of cars, noise and one million souls that is Yerevan to find a more authentic Hayastan. Ijevan is a town where old soviet buildings live side by side with cows and chicken. From the window of my room I could see the mountains all around – and still, a lot of garbage. The human presence is strong in this sense. Buildings are unfinished, pure concrete, but behind each door a family builds its own nest, with its television and coffee and candies. I lived with an Armenian family for a week, sharing their meals and watching the evening soap opera. Tomatoes, cucumbers, panir (cheese), bread. A lot of Armenian coffee, showering after 8h30, when water is available again. We’ve been hosted by Young Tavush, a local organization very committed with local development and youth participation. They wanted us to help in the creation of new strategies for volunteer management and we’re going back there in mid September for a seminar they’re organizing at that time. Local people assumed I was Armenian, nothing exotic about me. We ended up going to an excavation where they were studying an ancient wall that remained from an old settlement in the region. On Saturday we headed to Stepanavan, passing by Vadnazor to change marshutka. The last bit between this city and our destiny was the most impressive , as all of the sudden the landscape turned from dryness to a refreshing green. Stepanavan is even smaller than Ijevan. There we had our on arrival training for EVS volunteers. We met our colleagues from FYCA and some other few volunteers. After getting used to all the calmness and silence of this more rural Armenia we took a taxi back to Yerevan on Monday evening. Storm and lightening, rain and cold weather, a new face of Armenian weather. Arabic, Russian music, Celine Dion, Elton John and voila, ‘You touch my tralala, my dindingdong’ included the soundtrack of the trip back to the capital. Short after midnight, again the city in front of our eyes and a new month about to begin. It rained a bit today, a prayer for flourishing times.
(On prayers: see attachment)
(24th August 2010)
Echmiadzin is a city near Yerevan and the center of the Armenian Church. There among pathways turning to roads lays the cathedral and three other churches, all sharing the same architectural type. Armenian churches are welcoming in their simplicity, the walls are plain, some paintings, almost no sculptured figures nor golden or wood ornaments. The churches were named after some nuns that came to Armenia running away from the Roman empire but even so were tortured and killed in Armenian land. Short afterwards Armenia became christian. Ancient christianity is always related in some way to martyrdom. Now the churches remain there, the doors open to whoever wants to enter, light a thin candle and pray. Tradition demands you to buy your own candle, you should not light a candle bought by others. It’s part of the process, aquiring your own light.
Tomorrow we’re going to Ijevan, a 120 km drive by marshutka that I guess will take us some time. In our way we’ll pass by Sevan lake, another of Armenia’s ex-libris, along with Ararat mountain. But Sevan remains in Armenian soil, as it must, otherwise the country wouldn’t exist. Sevan is the largest water reserve in Armenia, the place people look for in the middle of summer’s dryness.
In Yerevan you can find supermarkets 24 hour open and I still didn’t realize what are the opening and closing hours of stores, as I always find them open anytime I need. The Armenian minimum wage lyes under 100 Euro but at the same time stores are always up and ready for you to buy something. Something with estragon, perhaps. Armenians love estragon, according to my supermarket research, as all thge salads and ready made food is seasoned with it and there is even a drink flavoured with estragon. Estragon is something I don’t really like but i’ve been eating a lot. I like coriander and I’m happy ’cause that I can easily find around these parts. As well as parsley. Then there is a lot of tomatos, cucumbers, apples and peaches. And apricots, the Armenian song that run Eurovision was named after this popular fruit. The other day I bought some small prunes in the market and that was a really nice surprise. The limited variety of vegetables and fruits might be connected to an agricultures limited by empoverished and dry soil, as well as with having closed borders with two of the neighbouring countries.
I’ve been proudly showing a friend the variety and complexity (and awkwardness – I showed her ‘arroz de cabidela’) of portuguese gastronomy. But not even my stomach betrays me, I’m completely focused on Armenia. Borders play an essencial role in the way we are allowed to live our lives and the richness that can be found in Portuguese food has much to do with all the time Portuguese have been beyond borders, be it Africa or Brazil. Armenians have a strong national identity, closely connected with religion and ethinicity. I don’t but I realize the portugueseness in me as I carry the ocean inside and can’t wait to cross borders.
(15th August 2010)
Today we’ve been at the UN Office here in Yerevan – passports presented at the entrance, no, I don’t carry a knife with me. It is the International Day of Youth, the beginning of the UN year for youth. So we went there, had some nice mushrooms pastries and small cakes in pink and yellow, saw the awarded works from a competition of videos on volunteering. There was a small NGO fair, where each NGO presented their work. I was kind of frustrated, as I approached some girls that were representing an organization that works with disabled women and they were not able to tell me anything about it. Anyway, when I get to Gyumri I’ll try to go there and have a look on the work they’re doing. It made me think about my EVS mates in Morocco, that are about to work in a similar organization.
We have to organize a seminar/training day on a topic of our choice and I think we could do something related to women rights, but first I’d like to contact some organizations in this field of action, to get to know the work they’re doing and the country’s reality.
Also next week we’re heading to Ijevan for a week, where I’ll start working in drama and J. will be giving English classes. I’ve been thinking what to do, as the working group won’t have a common language. Above all, I want to share my notion of it, why I believe drama is important and liberating. It combines or can combine all the arts. It’s about freedom, releasing energy, overcome fears and all kind of constraints we impose on ourselves; embracing nonsense instead the fear of ridicule, overcoming the urge to control by learning how to trust. It’s about using your body, your voice, letting the drive to create take the lead. A melting pot of dreams, concepts, hints of something still undiscovered; immerse yourself in the game and come back with new experiences, images, something to tell and something to remember.
This week I’ve been in a preparation meeting for a march that will take place on the 1st October. It’s about elderly people’s rights and wants to promote a greater awareness and commitment of youth to the subject. We’ll also be organizing a photo competition. We expect to see young and older people walking side by side at their rhythm. Some amazing pictures will come out of this for sure, as there is nothing so good at mastering time as photography. Time is just an equation of still moments, whether you’re in your 20′s or 70′s.
I was seeing the marshutkas pass by and taking notes of their numbers. I took one to an area outside central Yerevan, kino hayrenik were my magic words. I was looking for an old movie theater. There was a dog, a female puppy of some months, joyful sweet and strange, as she walked as she was always about to be beaten. Well, this is not strange when you’re really used to be mistreated. It’s reaction and survival. At night the dogs walk around in large groups, big dogs, some very beautiful ones. They walk as if the city also belongs to them, actually they walk around as a group of teenagers that explores the night, confident and daring. They look friendly, this big and numerous dogs. Even the cats are more social then usual, they stretch in the sun, very thin and very relax. Maybe this is a paradox in itself but they manage it and I can’t ask them how they do it. I really enjoy seeing these dogs wondering around Yerevan. Besides the dust, the dry weather, the harshness of the concrete buildings, there is a kindness that is carried around in the unspoken language of cats and dogs.
I really like to think about the future but not really to write about it. Writing is something that belongs to the past or to the time of the never was or could be. But anyway, I’ll try, as right now this is the time where I’m living, the time of possibilities. Next week we’re supposed to move from Yerevan to a small village, which is great. I’m very curious about Armenia as untill now Yerevan is the only refrence I have. We’ll stay there for about a week and there I’ll have the opportunity to start the core of the project, using drama to work with youth. And have fresh weather, uhh, maybe some rain? I miss water already. Time has a different frequency around here and flexible is a word not to be forgotten. Being portuguese is very new to me to be the one that’s always in a hurry, wanting to do things, being productive. Above all I believe it has to do with the energy you put on things and right now I want to get the most of it, come what may. We still don’t have a proper house, so there a feeling of misplacement in the air when you don’t have a home, a space to return to. Near the office there is garden which I like, it’s called the lover’s park. It has something confortable and japanese like about it – absent minded the traffic noise.
Crossing roads is a life challenge in Yerevan. Cars comes first. This is a law so legitimate as if it was written in the bible. If in the center, there are signs, clock ticking, you have at most 20 seconds to cross an avenue. And even so never to trust, ‘cause even with lighting signs, you know, cars come first. Outside the city center, near the place we’re living there are no lighting signs. So to cross the road is a matter of quickness and strategy, how to fit in the middle of all those running and busy cars. You have to cross, so trust god – god likes crosses. Sometimes you might feel like taking the hand of your friend, to feel that you’re together in this adventure. Be aware. Holding hands between a man and a woman is a sign that some marriage is about to happen. You might want to take anyway, as you’re up to adventures.
Just bought an expensive 1,5l of fruit juice. I was thinking this was the most common juice in the world but no, it is expensive because it comes from abroad, imported juice. Peach juice, some berries juice would be more reasonable. And was that berries juice that I wanted, the one that for me is more exquisite. I have to remember to make some mental gymnastics when shopping.
We’re set for September, we’ll have a new house, I’m very pleased with the perspective. Still don’t know how to spell house in Armenian. But I know how to spell mountain, sar, it is almost me. We went to Mashtots Matenadaran to see some old manuscripts. Beautiful. In the coming centuries there won’t be any manuscripts to be discovered, words no longer belonging to the world of paper and ink. Maybe some typewrited ones can still be found. Most of them will the floating in this enormous sea of 0 and 1.
This morning I woke up with the feeling that I’d dreamt with everything and everybody. I woke up several times during the night just to open my eyes and dive into another dream. More things and more people. I think I dreamt with my father before getting ill. This made today an historical day. I’m really learning not to fear, day by day, dream by dream.
6th August 2010
This is an old school blog, everything has previously been written on paper – I’m not accessing internet everyday. Before coming here I attended a pre-departure training, where we’ve spoken about the highs and lows in motivation, during an EVS project. I’m here for 6 days and I had it all. Yerevan induces big emotional waves. Today on my way to the city center I took marshutka number 76. This is our daily marshutka from the students dormitory to the office. Half the way the door fell off and we had to take another one. Marshutkas are old vans that circle around the city, fast as they can. They are quite efficient, as we never get to wait more than 5 minutes to catch one. It seems they’re common in countries that were part of former Soviet Union. Now I’ve invested 800 dram in a fancy café in Yerevan to finally put my writings up to date.
So far I’ve met some incredible people. Specially yesterday, when I got to know Narek, Tigran, Erik and Arshot, 4 incredible boys about 10-13 years old. We’ve been talking about films – Erik likes Fellini -, WWII guns, martial arts. Tigran wants to be a rapper. Most of them want to be army pilots.. Narek knows everything about old weapons showed us his drawings – black hawks, all kind of army material. But above all he says he likes to draw plants. His English was very good, so he was our translator for the afternoon. I hope I meet them again, in one of their jazz concerts, football matches or exhibitions. Tigran had this lovely golden drawing of some ancient fighters. We should keep an eye on these artists.
We met M., who told us a lot about Armenian history from her direct experience and gave me some suggestions of projects I could work with. They’re only starting in September. Meanwhile there is this project that starts the 15th of August, that is more drama oriented.
For those who are about to start this kind of projects, some ideas:
Ear plugs to deal with air pression – I took 2 flights, 7 hours in total. I was afraid that would be a never ending torture but those ear plugs made everything easier. Love you mom!
Take a small bags with you with some clothes and other basic stuff. My luggage got lost, so I arrived in Yerevan with only the clothes I had on. Luckly enough they found them 24 hours later.
Contact local people before going to your destiny country. My beer friendly couchsurfing contacts made my day, helped me get over this first impression of Yerevan and made me feel confortable and cosy in the middle of all this chaos.
Bring your own money. Money makes the world go ‘round, oh dreamers! Without it is the end of line, when you’re not able to read or speak. You need to rely on yourself and be able to move around and make things happen, otherwise you feel trapped.
Open. It will certainly be very different in unexpected ways.
Some notes:
Armenians love very sweet and very salty;
Tan is a nice drink, a kind of diluted yoghurt, my energizer and morning friend
Young women wear long hair
Man like to be gentlemen – opening doors, lighting cigarettes
Women are women and men are men. Stereotypes are strong and welcomed.
I’ve heard that some women operate themselves in order to be virgin again – I still didn’t confront any woman to know more about it.
I’m thinking that it might be interesting to have some kind of event where we could get people to discuss this kind of stereotypes, how foreigners see them and how Armenian women and men fit them. And in the way discover how I am perceived as Portuguese or European woman or whatever. I already had a misunderstanding problem with this male-female interaction, as what I was trying to say was being misinterpreted (at the best) or ignored (at the worst).
I’m happy I’m here. It seems I’ll be able to learn a lot and that’s my drive. Mom, I’m smoking – cigarettes and alcohol are cheap here. And transport. Fruits and vegetables not really. I’m looking for an apartment with my roommate. I need a place to settle and above all a kitchen. Soup, salads, homemade food, proper breakfast. I’ve been sitting in this café for hours. It’s near a fountain, so I can hear the water running. Yerevan’s weather is really dry, they say next week there will be 40 degrees or more. We’ll try to hide in the forests.
The morning here has an in-your-face approach – no curtains, cars ringing, hot. It helps me to realize where I am, as those first minutes in the morning are an out of time and space reality for me. I’ve been dreaming but I don-t remember about what. I realize that life is going on in a distant place by the sea, with some extra 4 hours. I wish them good morning. Today I remembered that my father won’t be there when I come back but this time I didn’t shrink facing this reality. Yerevan is also teaching me this, not to shrink, not to be afraid, to make my hand the cup for your tea.
5th august 2010
