Yerevan

 I've waited quite a while to write this post. My reason for this long delay was leavin first impressions behind, and conceiving a more insightful review of my experience in Yerevan, the capital of Armenia.

 We've been here for a month and a half now, and we've enjoyed every moment of it. I would love to stay here many more moons but, as life would have it, I have to return home at the end of August. Although our stay here is short, only two more weeks until we go back to our own familiar surroundings, our experiences were many, and there are many still to come.

 Since we arrived, we tried to make the most of our short stay, as such we have traveled all throughout the city and outside of it, having a very pleasant time. Of course, there's no such thing as a one sided coin. I'll first begin with the less pleasant experience that travelers will immediately notice if they come here, which concerns traffic. One of our housemates has already expressed his opinion on this matter. As he specified in his post, Armenian traffic is quite chaotic. Traffic laws seem to be but guidelines to the drivers here. Although traffic jams don't occur very often, rush hour is rather slow. The streets are crowded with city cars, buses and an unusually large amount of taxis, that drive down the crowded arteries in a highly disorganized manner. Adding to this, buses, although there are many, they travel rather randomly, suggesting no fixed schedule. This unusual public transportation does also have an upside, which is the fact that once you're outside the city center, you can just wave down the bus, like a taxi, giving one the sensation of hitchhiking by city bus.

 This is not the only thing in which Yerevan differs from the European cities that we are used to. This ancient city encompasses many different aspects, blending in the old with the new in a unique way. As a consequence of the 1679 earthquake, much of the city had been turned to rubble. But the most damage done to the ancient architecture was done by human hands. During the communist era, city planning had destroyed much of the old city, in order to build new roads, and wide boulevards. Yerevan is a city in a constant flux of change. Because of this, the city skyline is filled with cranes that are standing near the many new buildings that are still in construction. At street level all this becomes invisible. Although on every second street corner you would find a construction site, with a giant weightlifting monstrosity looming over it, most of the city does not present this unfinished state. Here you are greeted by a typical urban environment with many shops and cafes, people flowing in and out of them. But unlike on the streets of big European cities, here people do not rush through the streets at a high pace, hurrying to their destinations. The local population paces through the streets of Yerevan in a rather relaxed way, generally in groups, rarely would you see people walking alone.

 The house we live in is near the outskirts of the city in Kanaker, about an hour from the center. When we first arrived to Yerevan, we didn't really know what kind of housing to expect. The ones of us who have friends that have previously participated in EVS expected apartments. But as our van left the airport's parking lot, we were told that all 12 of us would live together, in one house. We couldn't really imagine where they would want to fit us, or how big the house was going to be. Upon arrival, a large metal gate greeted us, the concrete wall around it overgrown with weeds. Once through the gate, a large 2 storey house, reminding me of Sicilian style villas that crowd the narrow streets of small Italian towns, was looking down at us from a small, cramped courtyard. On our street, houses are almost adjoined. Across the street from our temporary home, the buildings are placed in two rows, and between the ones in the front row, there are narrow, one person corridors, that lead to the ones in the back.

 Traveling toward the city center, the landscape changes entirely. The conjoined houses are quickly replaces by apartment building wit shops and cafes at their bases. As you go straight down Azatutyan Avenue, you will eventually reach a large platform at the base of a large WWI monument overlooking the - as of yet - unfinished Cascade Complex. As you head down the stairs in the middle of the platform and then down the road around the construction, you reach the top of the Cascades, an enormous construction, looking down at the Yerevan Opera, and housing the Art Museum under its steps. On top, it houses four outdoor galleries, on its four finished levels, where visitors can take stop, and admire various sculptures, while they catch their breath, getting ready to continue climbing the structure. Below the hundreds of stairs lay a grand square, with even more interesting sculptures displayed through out, and flanked by a large number of themed cafes and restaurants. A small street cuts through it. To the left, it leads to Mashtots Avenue, which leads to the Matenadaran Library of Ancient Scrolls. Ahead of the Cascades, beyond a small park with a terrace cutting through it, you reach Opera Square, in the middle of which stands proud the Yerevan Opera, marking the heart of the city. Still further down, in a straight line, lies North Avenue, a large pedestrian street, having shops and cafes on both flanks, that ends as you reach Abovyan Street, which leads you to Republic Square, home of the National Gallery, host of three museums, and the Singing Fountains of Yerevan, which pamper both the auditive and visual senses of hundreds of visitors, every evening.

 Of course there are many other sights worth visiting in this ancient city, as it is filled with street art on almost every corner, and it is home to a very large number of monuments, landmarks, museums and theaters. My description serves but as a motivator to come to this city, and discover the beauty of the capital of this small Caucasian country. If you decide to journey to this city, you will find more then enough attractions that are guaranteed to satisfy your curiosity.

Protests in Yerevan

 We had an interesting bus ride to the office today. After waiting quite a while for the bus to show up, we waved at it to stop. Yes, we don't have to be in a station to get on the bus. We boarded, and started our long ride across town to the office. All went as usual, we were staring out the window, as the slow minutes in the infernal midday traffic passed.
 The interesting part began when we reached Opera Square. A large number of people were standing in a bus stop, surrounded by cameramen and police officers, in some form of protest. We didn't exactly know what to make of it, until the next bus stop. As our bus slowed down, protestors ran at it full speed, sticking messages printed on paper, with scotch tape on its edges, to the windows. We couldn't read what it said, but one thing we could make out: 100 Dram. That's when it hit us. The bus fares had suddenly hiked 50%. We knew this was expected to happen, we just didn't know when. The bus immediately stopped. The driver got out and circled around to rip the papers off the windows of his bus. While this was happening, we noticed the piece of paper that was placed above the windshield. "Bus Fare 150 dram", was written on it in armenian.
  Once we arrived at our station we got off and admired the chaos this sudden rise in bus fare prizes has caused. Bus drivers cursing at people who wouldn't pay the new price, protestors in every station, running after buses, sticking their messages to their windows, people encouraging the protestors and yelling at bus drivers. An interesting sight, to say the least.
 Once at the office, our hosts encouraged us to join in the protest, and not pay more than 100 drams for a fare. We also believe that a 50% increase is too radical, but it is yet to be decided whether the members of our group will join, or just let this thing pass them by.

It is a new week in Armenia for us.

It is a new week in Armenia for us. (4) 
I remember my first day here and first impression.
We arrived here so early in the morning that it seemed that it still night. Yerevan was asleep. It was warm outside and quietly and I remember how surprised I was when later we went to the city and it was so hot and loud. Traffic here is insane.  Life in Armenia is so different from everything I am used to.  I think I had a cultural shock in first couple days. But then there was that moment when I realised that I’m getting used to it. Now it seems that I’m here for few years and not for few weeks.
People, city, everything is getting familiar. Other volunteers are becoming friend. I can’t believe that I know them only for such short time .It’s funny how I'm calling one of them now - a brother from different mother because he is so cool. Yes, hey Marian if you’re reading this! ) 
It seems that I will be really sad at the end of august, when we’re going to go home. I’ll really going to miss Kika’s laughter. And Levi’s speeches about everything.  Maybe I‘ll even miss Ivan, just maybe. I’m joking! ) I’ll miss everybody.
P.S.  No p.s. this time. ) Only picture of dancing boys from dancing event in Opera house. That marked

one was the only one who was smiling all the time. I liked him. )

armenia in the beginning

i arrived in armenia, a country hard to get to because the road is long and you have to change a lot of plains and buses and a lot of waiting in airports.

first impresion is taken with a tired mind and that the impresion is that nobody understands anything because they keep on saying '' ce" translated in romanian means what, only after a few hours i found out that it means ''no"

racing from the airport to the so called home, we enter and discover a beautiful mansion with a swimming pool, a billiard room and a nice view of the city. 4 different countries in one house at the beginning i was thinking that it's going to be chaos but true time we will adapt, after waking up we started talking and discovering that we all came here to do our best, but nobody knew exactly what are we going to do.

first day at the office after again racing through town and discovering that this people only heard about driving rules but they don't know how to apply them, we started to introduce ourselves and to know the people from the organization. after all this talking what else to do then to eat, they started a fire take out some vegetables, some meat and we have a barbecue, everything done in a normal and casual mode, it was delicious.

 

Maiden Flight

 Armenia. A rather small landlocked country on the eastern rim of Europe. Our destination. The two other members of my group are anxiously awaiting the trip, while I'm fashionably late, as usual. I'm a typical last minute guy. I arrive with a large sport bag and a backpack, quickly arrange the ticket with the driver, place my luggage in the small bus, forgetting all about introductions. The driver gives me the ticket once the money is counted. After placing it into my wallet, I turn around and approach my traveling companions.
  "Alexandra, by the way", says the pretty girl that stands next to Marian, whom I already know from before. She extends her hand in a friendly manner. I shake it, shortly replying, "Levi".
 I ask Marian for a cigarette. He gives me one. I light it. We're standing mostly silent while puffs of smoke slowly rise and dissipate in the early morning wind. Some friendly words are exchanged, but are quickly interrupted by the driver, as he urges us to board the van. We're getting ready to leave. I throw my half smoked cigarette to the ground and put it out with a twist of my foot, as the others board the van. Nothing left to do, but to get in and await departure. The roar of the engine fills the empty parking lot, as the Sun slowly peaks out from above the building across the street. A solitary ray reaches in through the window and touches us with its warm embrace, a foot reaches the clutch, a hand grabs the gearshift, and with a light push of the gas pedal, the driver sets out to begin our journey.

  We quickly exit the slowly awakening city. We see people begin their daily routines, unaware of the adventure that lies ahead of the three strangers that sit in that dark grey van that has just passed them.
  As hours pass, so do cities, towns and villages that are spread along the road. Soon, after just a few hours, and switching rides about an hour in, we reach the border. The border police board our ride, check our passports, and leave the van, quickly allowing us to pass.
  We're in Hungary now. We race along the highway, fields and forests guiding our way. The first July sun is slowly rising above us, still hour from its apex. A voice comes up on the radio saying, "What a beautiful morning. The beginning of a new month, and also a new week full of promising adventures!". And what a morning it is. As the great fireball plays its celestial ballet toward the center of the sky, we keep drawing nearer and nearer to Budapest, where our maiden flight awaits.
  The highway is long and has few interesting views to offer. Drowsiness sets in, and we soon continue our journey walking through the land of dreams, where we were already at our destination.
  The colourful shifting images of joy slowly fade to darkness. And then, as the roar of the engine gets louder, a slither of light appears and slowly grows into a murky image of seats, people sitting in them, and moving cars ahead. As it clears, I see it ahead of us Welcome to Budapest. The great sign looms like a totem above the highway.

  As we pass this waking giant, ahead of us lay the Hungarian capital in all its splendor. We breath in the sights as we pass through the clogged arteries of this old city. Architecture new and old ,woven together like a modern symphony, passes our window.
  We made two stops in the city, and now we're heading for the airport. Half a day has passed by the time we arrive to the launchpad of our two month adventure. The Sun is smiling down at us with its fiery gaze as we unload our luggage in front of terminal 2b, dreading the seven hour wait that is ahead of us.
  The long hours are passing slowly in the terminal. We're watching the herds of people rushing through the hall. Some show happiness upon tired gazes for returning home after a long flight, others look with anxious hearts for the untold adventures this great city would provide. Some were young, some were old. I'm playing their stories out in my head. The lawyer returning home from a long conference, with shame in his eyes for cheating on his wife with a cheap hooker in an expensive hotel room. The young boy with angst in his heart, for seeing his father for the first time after many years. The African artist, arriving for his first ever European exposition. The young lovers, finally reunited after a long year of studying abroad. Tired faces all, yet so alive. With stories yet unheard, that only they can know, and others only imagine or dream about.
  Five hours and half a pack of cigarettes have passed. The wait is almost over. The check in has begun. We place our luggage in the care of our travel company and head for the entrance to terminal A11. We're slowly moving, single file toward the verification area. Finally through the line. We're unpacking our pockets and placing their content in a basket for scanning. Our hand luggage, boots, my leather jacket and my laptop, all in separate baskets, slowly pass through the scanner. We step one by one through the metal detector with only our socks laying between the cold floor and the soles of our feet. All is fine, the machine remains silent. Hurriedly we grab our things from the baskets as they're rolling out. Chaotically we pack everything into random pockets while the baskets are quickly pushing each other aside, rolling faster along the line than we can remove our belongings. Keys, spare change, boots and electronics, all randomly thrown in, we continue toward the embarkation area.
  A large mall-like hall, bathed in sunlight, oozing through giant windows, greets us with food courts, cafes and expensive shops, offering everything from fine cut tobacco and designer clothing, to expensive wines, scotches and jewelry.
  With an hour to go, we access our computers to check in with friends and family letting them know that we're alright, and prepared to embark on our flight, and promising that we'll take care of ourselves.
  The clock has slowly arrived to 19:30. We pack up, and slowly head for our gate. We're half way there. The intercom comes on, and a female voice announces our names, urging us to hurry. Half running, we arrive to the desk. The clerks check our boarding passes and return them to us, once scanned. The corridor is narrow, we're going down two flights of stairs out onto the airfield. A big white bus is waiting for us here, ready to take us to our aircraft. We've boarded, and the bus is pulling away, slowly. From its window, we're seeking our airplane. After but a handful of minutes, we find it. A small passenger craft lay waiting on the ground, already fueled and engines running. Our plane. Our first flight. The ticket to our journey. The great metal bird that will fly us many miles from home. The first time I will have ever flown.

  Slowly walking up the mobile stairway, I take in the sight of the aircraft I'm boarding, as its engine roars in the sunlight of late afternoon. The interior is smaller than I expected. I've only seen airplane interiors in movies. Of course, they were generally private jets, or giant airliners. Our stewardesses greet us at the entrance of the vessel. I turn to the right, and gaze for a second at the interior of the plane. Aside from the small windows, everything looks like the interior of a tour bus. We're searching for our seats now. We quickly find them. We're seated together. After placing my backpack into the overhead compartment, I take my place in seat 16C. I'm anxiously awaiting departure. The twin engines outside our windows are still roaring. I imagine the pilot is doing the final system checks, as he's getting ready for take off. He's done this a hundred times, maybe even more. But for me, it's but the first. The stewardesses are presenting safety procedures, as the plane starts its slow stroll along the tarmac, toward the runway. I absorb the view outside my window with a hunger that I've never felt before. Planes of all sizes lay in the distance, scattered throughout the airport. A small twin jet is taking off as 7 planes and a hanger sit silently, gazing at its departure toward unknown lands. Once it left the ground, its audience turns its gaze to us. We're next. We roll out slowly to the runway, taking a slight right turn. We hold for a second and then suddenly several Gs push me into my seat. I struggle to reach the window and continue staring at our surroundings.
  Our position is no longer horizontal. The plane is slowly lifting at a slight angle. We're leaving ground. I'm leaving ground! For the first time in my life, I'm flying! I feel my inertia adding to my weight as the plane is accelerating toward the blue sky above. My struggle continues as I reach the window once again and peak out through it to see walls becoming rooftops, cars becoming but small rectangles, as they're rushing up and down, at different speeds, on dark dashes of tarmac. Everything is quickly becoming smaller and smaller.
  Not long has passed, our ascent has let up slightly. It's easier to lean to the window. The majestic white wing of our metal bird is trembling in the turbulent, thick lower atmosphere. Fields and forests are becoming paintings with light, heavily detailed brushstrokes. Hills and mountains are like small ripples in a beach of dark green sand. A city passes below us. The setting Sun gazes with weary eyes down on it from a low angle, as it's slowly setting its head to rest for the night. Small shining orange pearl colonies are spread through the landscape. Towns and villages with bright walled houses. Clouds are slowly becoming foam on the surface of a dark green sea. I'm staring down at them, like a child, staring at his new favorite toy on Christmas morning, while the landscape turns into nothing more than texture on the floor of this great ocean. I feel like a giant. I can fit the world on my thumb and crush it like an ant that I caught crawling up my leg.

  The pilot announces that we've reached cruising altitude, and we're holding at 10000 meters. 10000. 10000 leagues above ground, floating in a different kind of sea, one comprised not of water, but of nitrogen and oxygen. The view is now divided. Two worlds stare back at me through the small window of the pressurized cabin. My ears have stopped popping. They've been doing it every couple of minutes since we left the ground. Finally, the ascent is over.
  The stewardesses are slowly making their way between the rows of seats, offering chocolate covered waffles and beverages to the passengers. Only now do I notice that the aircraft is almost full. I've been staring out the window all this time, and haven't noticed the people surrounding me. My waffle is all so sweet and empowering. As I consume the contents of my package, I turn to the window once again. The two worlds gaze idly back at me as they lay outside, waiting for the dark of night. The world below slowly goes to sleep, to dream of a future world. Below, the sea of atmospheric gasses is growing deeper and darker, and above me the cosmic, low pressure ocean is doing the same. The two mix together on the horizon in a harmonic dance of colours and shades. Blurred lines, ranging from light purple to even lighter pink are stacked upon each other, slightly mixing shades and forming an alien rainbow that runs straight along the horizon, marking the separation of the two worlds. Above it, a white line, thick and bright, runs around us, marking where the sky begins. As I slowly raise my gaze, shades of blue exchange places, growing ever darker, running up to the top of the sky, where faraway stars, planets and galaxies keep watchful eyes upon this wayfarer.
  The beverage cart arrives at my side. Most have ordered water or other refreshments, but I can't. This majestic sight needs to be praised with something more. Wine, oh sweet wine. How appropriate that you would be here, on this flight, with me. I take two sips from my glass of Merlot and return to the slowly darkening world below.
  The dark sea is now filled with a thousand points of light. Small shining pearls that were hoses before. Colonies packed in various shapes and sizes. Organs of a breathing world, emanating light, connected by veins of faint yellow shine, through which tiny stars travel up and down.
  The fasten seat belts sign comes on with the ring of a bell. The intercom crackles, and the pilot's voice announces that we're preparing to land. I grab the two ends of the belt, and as I connect them, we suddenly start losing altitude. I feel weightless for a second, before gravity pulls me back into my seat. The shiny shapes are growing in size. The small stars start becoming discernible. Minutes seem like seconds as I breathe in the sights. One of the colonies is larger than the others, and it hurriedly comes toward us. It's Warsaw. It must be. The weak light of the failing Sun burns hot reddish hues upon rooftops, as yellow lit arteries pass below us. An hour has passed. Our entire flight. But it was just a few minutes ago that we departed. How? When? Is time so different when you fly at such altitudes? Or is it the speed, that makes time pass so quickly? Our flight is ending. We're descending upon curled rooftops, and buildings with strange shapes, some oval, some round, some that form circles around giant courtyards, and some with gardens on their roofs.

  The runway is now below us. Our final approach has ended, and we're closing in on the still warm airfield of the Frederic Chopin airport. The cabin gently shrugs as we touch the ground. The flaps open up, and I am almost thrown out of my seat by the hard deceleration of our craft. But the seat belt holds, and we all safely arrive.
  The metal beast that has carried us along the first half of our journey has now slowed down to a manageable speed. It cruises us around almost the entire airfield, as it makes its way toward the terminal. I'm still hanging in my window, taking in the sight. Aircraft of various designs and sizes are populating this grand tarmac isle. They watch us idly, as we pass them by. Utility vehicles keep watchful eye upon us, ready to intervene if anything should go wrong.
  Our aircraft slowly stops, as the sun drowns out behind the horizon. The fasten seat belts sign turns off. We have arrived. People slowly stand up, to remove their things from the overhead compartments, and stroll single file toward the exit. I join them. As I'm climbing down the mobile stairway, I turn to say farewell to the great bird that brought us here. Once on the ground, we all board the bus that is waiting for us on the margin of the tarmac. I get in, my heart still pounding. We're all on board. The engine starts, and the bus begins its slow way to the embarkation area, where we will prepare for our final flight to Yerevan.