Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

… սովորական …

April 2, 2008

Շաբաթ` առավոտ.
գիշերը կարծես հանգիստ եմ քնել,
ու արթնացել եմ ոչ թե զարթուցիչիս ելևէջներից,
որն ամեն առավոտ ինձ համար “Ով սիրու~ն, սիրու~ն” է երգում,
այլ` արևաշողի…ա~խ… ջերմ հպումից,
ու երգում եմ կրկին`
“Առավոտ լուսո, արեգակն արդար”…

Երկար քնելու մեջ մեկ լավ և մեկ վատ բան կա.
մեկ` որ երկար ես քնում,
մեկ էլ` երկար քնելդ նշանակում է, որ այսօր աշխատանքդ ոչ թե կանուխ է ու դրսում,
այլ` մի քիչ ուշոտ, բայց ներսում.

Նորից խոհանոց, գազօջախ,
փոշեկուլ, բաղնիք-զուգարան,
պոլի շոր, փոշիներ, նորից արդուկ…
Ու այդ ամենից հետո` բաղձանք դեպի մաքուր ջուր, բազկաթոռ
 ու քեզ նախկինում նողկալի, իսկ այժմ շատ-շատ հարազատ հեռուստացույց: (more…)

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Hmm~

March 12, 2008

The globe must be very…very… extremely round,

or this city is extremely small.

!%^&&@#^%$&$@!^%$

March 12, 2008

…A real need –
A torch –
No torch –
Just broken ones,
And dime a dozen…
… no real one…

but just a limbo.

Merry Xmas and Happy New Year!!!

December 26, 2007

I trimmed our Xmas tree in the beginning of the week and already got my first New Year present!!!

Not saying much, just wishing everyone happy New Year! Let the coming year be time for joy and happiness, let it bring you everything you wish, let it be full of pleasant surprises… and expect one from me 😉

Happy…happy…happy…!!!
Merry…merry…merry… !!!

Peace.

1st of September. Big deal!

September 1, 2006

Ok, probably many students and pupils are looking forward for this day, beginning of classes, Day of Knowledge, as I did 4 years ago when leaving behind ten long school years I was to do my first steps as a student. The first day of student life seems to be interesting and promising, but not for me as it seemed quite vice verse in my case. Here everyone in their turn try to put on their best clothes and be impressive, as it is the only way for that day to make impression. Or there’s another way – coming to classes in expensive cars and before getting off stay in them for some twenty minutes so that everyone notice what car they have come by. Or keeping their stunning cell-phones in their hands or on their tables all the time, so that if those who haven’t seen them getting off their cars at least see their phones.

Who doesn’t know what day the 1st of September is, and with that hope I’m not going into the realms of how students and pupils welcome it. Although I’d rather call it a “Day of Cafés” as you will hardly find a vacant café table in any of the central Yerevan cafes. That is because the first day of classes students hurry to spend in cafes not at least waiting for the end of the daily lessons.

This September 1st was especially boring for me and I wished it never came as I’m totally tired of studies and some faces there (never thought I will say that, hope my professors do not read this). But on the other hand I’m glad it came, which supposes that the end of the year is near, and I’m really waiting eagerly for it.

Although, even I may have surprises. It was that my brother suddenly called me and said he was downtown and wanted to meet me, he insisted. And there I saw him approaching and concealing something behind his back. Amazingly it was a wonderful bunch of flowers! I adore flowers, why not! That was really to the point to cheer me up, it was a great surprise for me, I was deeply touched by his attention.

So, not everything is that worse. Happy 1st of September!

And there’s a village life

August 24, 2006

 

I took a long recess…

Well, well, I’m back. As I wrote in one of my blogs the only thing which has  been occupying my mind recently was to escape from the city to a village for several days. And I managed!!! As soon as my friend mentioned about her grandma’s house in Hanqavan I was already ready to pack my things and start off. Don’t want to tell how we got there, though to mention that we changed several buses in which all people were packed like herrings in a tin, and pungent odour in the air making it heavier and foul. And those were the signs to predict that village life had a start right from that bus.

Beautiful hills with fir-trees here and there, fresh air, meditating silence suddenly interrupted by sounds of animals and popping of the bus engine which dropped us off at feet of the village. Akhundov is the Turkish name for the village as once it was inhabited by Turks, later it was renamed and got an Armenian name Pyunik, but so far people call it by its old name. It is not exactly in Hanqavan, but two villages away. A narrow street, I mean that made of stone, soil and mud and animal sediment, which led up the hill. Little cozy houses with big gardens on both sides of it. Special smell of animals usual only for villages. While I was inhaling that air eagerly my friend hold her breath, she was not used to it. Her grandma’s house was nearly the last one up the hill. By the time we reached the place all the neighbor villagers were already aware that people from Yerevan had come and they were peeping out from behind their gates and garden fences. (more…)

Patients are “having parties” every day…

August 14, 2006

On mentioning Proshyan street,one usually grasps barbeque and kebab street. Poor Armenian writer Proshyan would never ever in his worst nightmares figure out that  his name would be associated with barbeques and feast, especially while he was writing his famous “Bread Problem ”.   Long narrow street with restaurants and “korovatsanot”s on the both sides. But it is not only luxurious and expensive restaurants of oligarchs that find their place on that street. Right behind those restaurants parallel to the main street Hospital N3 is situated. I think the image is distinct: row of restaurants and a hospital standing lonely  among them. I hope you guess what I’m hinting to. No, It is not about the medical system that I’m going to discuss now, which is as lousy  as any other sphere in
Armenia, though it considers more thorough observation.

Recently I went to that hospital to visit a relative. She was taken to the hospital after   she was all but made to sign a paper  at  the hospital  in Nork stating that the doctors were not responsible for her life, though it was just an appendicitis operation, but her state was aggravated when she called an ambulance and they gave an enema thinking that she had nothing but stomach ache, thus making the situation worse.

(more…)

Start with yourself

August 13, 2006

The following words were written on the tomb of an Anglican Bishop in the Crypts of Westminster Abbey: 

When I was young and free and my imagination had no limits, I dreamed of changing the world. As I grew older and wiser, I discovered the world would not change, so I shortened my sights somewhat and decided to change only my country.  But it, too, seemed immovable.  As I grew into my twilight years, in one last desperate attempt, I settled for changing only my family, those closest to me, but alas, they would have none of it.  And now as I lie on my deathbed. I suddenly realize: If I had only changed myself first, then by example I would have changed my family. From their inspiration and encouragement, I would then have been able to better my country and, who knows, I may have even changed the world.                                                                                                                           Anonymous

Khaghoghorhneq – Grape Blessing

August 13, 2006

It is “Khaghoghorhneq” today (“Grape Blessing”, gush, how difficult it is to type that word in English letters!) The church celebrates it together with Saint Mary’s Day. href=”http://www.armenianchurch.net/worship/mary/assumption.html”>The Armenian church gives the origin of the holiday.

Blessing of the Grapes is one of the most beloved ceremonies in the Armenian Church calendar. Most of us would recall people who refuse to eat grapes until the fruit is “officially” sanctified by the local clergyman.

[…]

Grapes do have a certain symbolic significance in Christianity (think of all the references which Jesus made to wine and “the vine and the branch”, references which are still repeated in the Divine Liturgy.
[…]

The occasion on which we celebrate the blessing of grapes is a major feast day called “Assumption of the Holy Mother-of-God” and it too, underscores a wonderful insight unique to Christianity. The story of assumption concerns St. Mary, the mother of Jesus Christ, and ho having completed her life on earth, she was taken up in body and soul—“assumed”—into Heaven. This was a special courtesy, performed by Christ many years after his Ascension, as a loving tribute to the mother who bore and raised him.

Just to say that every year we used to go to the Surb Mariam Astvatsatsin Church at Nork-Marash on foot, and it usually took more than two hours from my place. I didn’t go this year but I don’t mind eating the blessed grapes my folks brought from the church. Not that they are blessed and I expect to be blessed as well, just I sort of felt I want to eat nothing but grapes today. So I’m cutting this short and getting to eating more, hope I won’t have problems by the evening 😉

The city kills me…

July 22, 2006

Recently I’ve been kept by the idea of going to a village and spending a week there. First thing which pushed me to that thinking was to have some rest which I still don’t manage to have after my classes, examination period and on top of all the course paper which I have to hand in September, but I’m still working on it.

After being to Drakhtik village I had my old recollections drove back and remembered the happy time I spent every summer in Ilan-Chalan village in Aparan. I was a 12-13 years old girl then but everyone would take me for a boy, that is because I was always with boys, running, climbing high trees, jumping from the garden fences when I was not allowed to go out, stealing fruit from a neighbor’s garden, standing a guard over my relative’s garden and riding my favorite horse called Kassandra.. And not to forget to mention one thing which I was always ashamed to tell to my classmates after the holidays, because I had a fear that they’d make fun out of it. Anyways, now I even feel like telling everyone that I was a shepherd girl for a while and along with other girls we would take the sheep to the fields and hills. Those were the most joyous years if I recollect now.

Having the village sight in front of my eyes for a moment I felt that I miss those years so much that now I’m only captured by the idea to spend some time at a village. This city life may kill you if you live there for a long time. Now I’m so tired of that raising ugly buildings, cafes instead of trees, traffic mess and noise, asphalt instead of grass that my only desire for the moment is to run away from this place which is becoming a hell now.

Those resting houses are not what I need as well because I also want to escape from the people from the capital who always think that they are somewhat privileged if they have money to have their rest at an expensive resting house in Jermuk, Tsakhkadzor or Dilidjan. This isn’t rest however, it is something to show off and by the time they come back they only count the amount of money they spent there and kind of boasting tell it worldwide. They, people who don’t forget to take to a resting place all their golden jewelry and put them on each on their turn, as a rule, never rest for resting. The only thing they care about is the image, only, the vainglory and idle vaunt. I want nothing which will remind me of the city life and those people.

If you are a foreigner and want to learn about a country’s real life, never stay in the capital or in a big city, go to a village and you’ll be given an ample opportunity to study that country in its real colors. Villagers are precisely those people who preserve the moral, culture, tradition in their invariants. You want to find a person presenting the face of the country, find them among the same villagers and not among the city-dwellers and in the city, where everything is so confusing, exasperating and not understandable.

The city is a cheap killer who acts so slowly and with an extreme caution, that the victim is not even aware of it. It is like a poison which goes into the blood so warily and hits the person when it is too late to take measures. But it kills not the person but the human.

It is not accidentally that I had this thoughts again. A friend’s sister invited me to her place. They live in Ararati Marz, Gyugh Darakert, it is not so far from Yerevan, 15-20 minutes by car. They are such good people, brilliant, open-hearted, hospitable. They work on the soil the whole day and it’s hard but they do it with love, and they still preserve those human features. As soon as we got there I started watching around and couldn’t restrain myself from gathering apples, raspberry and blackberry and eating on the spot. My fingers were all black though. Then I asked for a cellophane and started gathering verdure called ‘dandur’ which they pull out and throw though it is eatable, but many people don’t, however that is my favorite dish when prepared with garlic and vinegar, or garlic and matsoun. They don’t know what they lose. Yammii… But nothing will give the pleasure of pulling a tomato directly from the plant and eating it right there with village made lavash and cheese. In the end of the day, when it was night , the electricity was turned off and the remarkable day was concluded by the candle burning in the middle of the room and enlightening the cozy house and people around it telling different stories. And this completed the village-life canvas.

I want to call back those years, I want to work on the soil, I want to water the plants, gather the fruit, feed the animal. I wish it so much… Though I’m afraid that the city life has spoilt me in a way and I can’t do the things the way I used to. But the city still kills me with its everyday problems. I want to escape, but can I?

Probably people living in villages want to escape from that life and live in the city. Can they?
Life is funny. Or it is funny how it appeals to different people.

Don’t kill me, I’m your dweller, do you care? I do care, so I escape…