Armenia

Well, Iran told me to shove it. I tried everything, and I got this far, but the visa just isn't going to happen.

I guess I'm not too surprised, though it's still a letdown. I've been trying at different embassies this whole time, and I've done everything "right," but that doesn't make up for the dude behind the window who tells the American to go play Hide-and-go-Kill-Himself. Meh. Anyhow, I'm flying to Dubai tonight. The toughest part the rejection has been having to cool my heels in Armenia for a week. Yeah, it's a great place, but it would have been nice to spend the extra time elsewhere.

But it is a great place. Yerevan is a neat city, with good barbecue and Churchill's favourite Cognac. Not being much of a brandy aficionado, however, I much prefer the view. Much of the time it seems the Soviet-era smog forms odd clouds, but on the clearer, breezy days, the haze clears out to reveal Mt. Ararat in all her glory. It may be on the Turkish side of the border, but I now understand how it's an Armenian icon.

Of course, Noah's ark is supposed to be up there, somewhere. They have some pieces of it, along with the spear that pierced Christ, locked away at Echmiadzin, the home of the Armenian Church. I made the trip to see the relics, but didn't know about the "locked away" part until I got there. Still a neat trip.

I also made a trip to the museum of the Armenian Genocide, but it was closed due to lack of power. Instead, I spent the time at the memorial above the museum. Sufficiently depressing not to find time to go back. Instead of numerous color-photos of them, I'm content with reading of the systematic slaughter of 1.5 million and the subsequent Turkish denial.

I did, however, make the trip to Khor Virap, right on the Turkish-Armenian border. It's a little church on a little hill right under Ararat. It's got lots of history, yadda yadda, but I don't currently have the energy to go into that. I climbed a nearby hill to grab some photos and to meditate, but a farmer in one of the nearby fields caught sight of me and made his way to the hill. During his approach, I wasn't sure whether it would be a friendly visit, but when he got close I saw he was carrying his lunch, a watermelon. We exchanged greetings, he split his lunch on a rock and offered half, and we chatted away about whatever popped into our heads.

He had some long, unfamiliar name which I forgot pretty quickly. But interesting, nice guy. He's an Azeri, but he was living in Karabakh, and after the mass-displacement, being Christian, he decided to go to Armenia. He told me all about his kids, and about his Soviet Navy days in Murmansk, complete with the smashing-of-frostbitten-hand-against-rock demo. It seemed a mark of pride. Got to hear all of his opinions on rural Armenia, money-sodden Yerevan, wars on Terror, my county, etc. I was asking for all of these opinions, of course.

I was just impressed by how friendly and genuine he was; even when I asked him about his work, and heard of his growing brandy grapes for $2 a day, it wasn't a plea for cash. Regardless, before we parted I gave him $2 in Armenian Dram, since he had, after all, shared his lunch. Nice guy.

Made my way to the church, next, which was cool enough. The view is great. On the way down from the church, however, I stopped to talk with some guys about random stuff, and soon a group of young school-kids came down and immediately launched into a half-hour QnA session with the curious-looking American. No sooner had these young kids climbed onto their bus than another school-group came down, but this time the kids were 13-14 year olds. They spoke better Russian, asked more questions, and were more energetic about everything. Soon enough they were asking for photos, and they grabbed their teacher and took me back up to the church, with the young guys challenging eachother to get the American up rock-ledges, and the young girls seeing who could first get a phone-number or promise of marriage or something. Young, energetic kids.

Of course, upon our return to the parking lot I was invited to ride the bus back to their village, which was quite a nice gesture. It saved me the walk to the nearest town to wait for a bus to Yerevan. We loaded the bus, the teachers cranked up the music, and the kids and the American all danced around until the American couldn't stand any longer. Luckily, "Peanut Butter" and a few other songs helped their Dancing Monkey to continue the entertainment. Finally got to their village, said the goodbyes, and hopped a bus to Yerevan.

Other than that, I've been exploring Yerevan, walking in circles all week(really, it's all a big circular layout), reading, and not drinking enough coffee. Hence the rather uninspired text. The poor editing is because this computer is retarded. Anyhow, time to register for classes and then move on. I am, despite my yawning, really excited to get to the Gulf.

Love yall.