Week ends around little Armenia [second edition]

The sun is still shining in Hayastan! This week end, Abishek and I went to Karabakh (Artsakh for the armenians), an Armenian enclave in Azerbaijan, or a piece of Azerbaijan controlled by armenians (whichever is the correct political term). I almost cancelled this trip for fear of the canadian foreign ministry warnings, but following the counsel of some people who had actually visited the region I decided to go there anyways.

On my way,  I spent an interesting evening at an American peace corps volunteer's place near the border with Karabakh. Peace corps are volunteers from the US who are randomly assigned a location in a developing country with a mission for 2 years. The ones I met last Thursday ended up in little towns and villages of southern Armenia. Life is so different there, and I was curious to know how they get by every day, and how this experience must have influenced their way of seeing the world. I found out that they had, besides learning a lot of different things, got quite critical of the armenians and their way of thinking. We talked about some of the health-related superstitions that they hear every day, as the belief that one will die if he or she drinks water after exercising.

The next morning, Abishek and I took the marshrutka that would bring us to Shushi, the town where our karabakhian guest house was located. On the way, we met an old woman with whom I managed to have a little conversation. A very pretty young girl sitting at the front seemed quite curious and started smiling at us. She told us that she was 22, and then she explained that she had a three years old daughter! It is always surprising to realise how young the girls marry and have children in Armenia, and it seems to be even more so in the country side. Maybe, the prettier they are, the earlier they get married and have babies! Then, I started to feel old and thought to myself that it might be time to stop traveling and get married as well, sorry mummy!

In Shushi, after recovering from the nausea caused by all the mountains roads in the oh-so-comfortable marshrutka, our host's wife found us sitting by the side of the church. She walked by, called "philippina", and kept walking without turning back. Abishek and I were surprised, and followed her from a distance only because we realised that the only reason she could know my name was if she was indeed our host's wife. She led us through some narrow and wild paths until what seemed to be the edge of the village, and the edge it was, as we soon discovered that the house was actually located right next to a canyon! The house was great and we quickly felt comfortable.Their son Samuel led us to the depth of the canyon with one of the house's dogs, Obama. The walk was incredible, wild, liberating, and adventurous as we jumped under a magic waterfall!  

Media_httpelinyafiles_jvupl

Media_httpelinyafiles_migaa
      
Media_httpelinyafiles_hqhyd

After this walk, we were exhausted and wet and we decided that we deserved a lazy evening (the other reason why we stayed home is probably that there wouldn't have been much to do in a small town of Karabakh in the evening!). We enjoyed a nice dinner and some conversation with our hosts. The father, Saro, works in connection with the military for refugee issues. He was an interesting person and lead us on a long conversation about the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict. I lost track many times, but I still have all his drawings in my notebook to refresh my memory.

The next day, after visiting the gandzasar monastery, we started walking around in the little village of Vank looking for jingalovhats (no, it's not something that you put on your head!), the local food specialty. We didn't find jingalovhats, but three men with golden teeth in a jeep who offered us to come to their place to have tea and lunch. I don't think it crossed Abishek's mind to accept the invitation, but having heard that these kinds of invitations are common in rural Armenia, and feeling quite hungry (and safe thanks to the presence of a man by my side!) I said "alright, let's go!".

They drove us to the top of a hill, where we found a little home, with chickens running wild and no running water. The house was cute, and we were greeted by one of the men's wife and their little son. It would be hard to give a good description of this memorable lunch. After battling with the little Armenian I know to get to know each other we got to the essence of Armenian social life: meat and home made vodka. We spent about 2 hours in this little house, speaking a language between armenian, body talk and abidu boudiba. I had to fight to resist the successive shots that were poured into my glass, and soon got cramps in my cheeks from laughing too much. We ended up missing our marshrutka and having to take a taxi, but it was all worth the spontaneous decision to jump into a strangers' car...

 

Media_httpelinyafiles_kjsxu

Media_httpelinyafiles_kddyt

Media_httpelinyafiles_aqmco

Media_httpelinyafiles_fhcwx

A serious talk with Obama, the dog.

Media_httpelinyafiles_qemfc