Post-Armenia Blues

Nathalie Kazandjian aka Nat K
(Canada, AVC ‘ 12)

The ‛Welcome Home Natty’ poster along with friends and family were what greeted me as I made my way past the Arrival gates of the Montreal Trudeau Airport. In that instant, I felt pretty good about coming home. However, as the days went by, the post-Armenia blues violently kicked in as soon as I found myself doing the same old things I used to do. Suddenly, things that seemed so familiar felt foreign and strange. It was a whole new culture shock but it was real and unfortunately, there wasn’t much I could do about it. The problem was not coming home to friends and family. The problem itself was leaving Armenia. For the little bit that I was back, I couldn’t even look at my photos nor talk about it for fear of being overcome with even more heartbreak and anguish than I already felt. I missed everything and everyone that belonged to my life in Armenia.

Before I know it, I found myself longing for Armenia. I missed waking up every morning to hearing my host mother say “ Parev parev garmir arev siroon jan”. I missed walking down 58 district to catch the marshrutka, 100 drams in hand and giving my regular Parev to the locals. I missed walking home from work and being greeted by the cutest little munchkins from my neighborhood showering me with hugs and kisses. I missed finishing the night off with a nice cup of MacCoffee alongside my host sisters while watching Armenian soap operas. I missed staying up with Nvartig, my baby host sister, till late at night drawing, coloring, playing cards, checkers, chess and teaching her English. I missed going to Ponchig Monchig and ordering a ridiculous amount of food. I missed going to the khorovadz place near the OLA center and engaging into a 45 minute conversation with the cook each and every time. I missed getting a ridiculous amount of daily texts and reminders from Allegra. I missed joining my Armenian brothers and sisters over weekend excursions. I missed running in the SAS supermarket and yelling like a crazy person “where’s the Ttvaser ?” before boarding our marshrukta to head back home. As well, as Heeng dzap, Marshrukta 9, besties crew, whatever your face, tracking down wifi, Le Cafe and Sevan’s inspirational speeches among many other things.

The desire to connect to people and the joy of making the connection was life affirming. The physical intensity of the excursions was invigorating. The time walking alone, listening to my own footsteps, sitting in the marshrukta watching the sunset, gazing at the stars was refreshing. Most of all, I long for the way I felt when I was in the Motherland. I felt alive, free, inspired and grateful. Man oh man does Armenia have a way with you. Each and every day there was a goal and an accomplishment that could be measured in different ways: in kilometers, in hugs, in the number of times I laughed out loud.

Although I was only gone for two months and while nothing has changed at home, everything has changed within me. Living in Armenia, gave me a deep appreciation of my life – where I live, where I work, my family and my friends. It also made me appreciate things that we too often take for granted such as the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, weeping eyes, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.

To travel to Armenia is to truly take a journey within yourself. When we leave the comfort of home and everything that we have grown to be accustomed to, we often live more simply, with no more possessions than we can carry. We tend to surrender ourselves by becoming much more accepting to the twists, turns and little surprises that life has to offer. I came to Armenia searching for answers. Instead, I left in search of better questions. Sometimes, the unexpected is just what is needed to put life into perspective.

So here I am, back to my same old routine of stop and go, impatiently waiting to graduate just to start a new adventure. All the while feeling nostalgic about my time in Armenia which can feel heavier than the far too many pounds gained abroad.

When I think about it, perhaps the post-Armenia blues is something you can never truly let go of. For it that where we love is home, home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.

To sign off, I simply cannot say goodbye to those whom I have grown to love, for the memories we have made will last a lifetime and never a goodbye. None of this would have been possible without Birthright Armenia & Armenian Volunteer Corps. For those of you who are thinking of joining the program, I encourage you to take a leap and go for it. Armenia 2012 always in my heart.

Thank you.

Fiona Greig, AVC ’12
(United Kingdom)

Dear Birthright Armenia/Depi Hayk and AVC,I cannot count the number of times I have tried to sit down and write this final blog entry. It sounds cheesy but it’s true. I clung on to my time in Armenia through friends who were still there and then from my dad and aunt’s second trip out there. It felt very strange to see photos of them visiting places where I had been just a few weeks before. At first I was jealous but now I am just excited for the next time and hopeful that it will be the whole family.It is now 2 months and 2 days since I left and I am finally ready to finish this blog (for now!) I agonised over how to sum up my time in Armenia in a little post like this. What did I want to say? List my highlights, lessons learnt, friends made… but there are simply too many. It’s the same problem I have every time somebody asks me how my summer was. I freeze, my mouth gets dry and a million brightly coloured images flash through my mind. And then I normally come out with something stunningly eloquent like “It was good”, “really good” or “amazing” if I’m feeling particularly articulate. One of my friends asked me if it had been worth “giving up” my whole summer for. I was stunned into silence (rare). The idea that I had given anything up was utterly incomprehensible to me. Yet even then, as I thought of all the myriad reasons why I would not trade this summer for all the cognac in Armenia, I couldn’t find a way of making it make sense to someone else. So I’ve given up. I come out with random stories and anecdotes now and then but mostly I look at pictures, skype when I can and try to remember everything.

So finally I have decided to stop over thinking this whole thing and just say what I really want to say.

THANK YOU.

Thank you to the staff and benefactors of Birthright Armenia/Depi Hayk and Armenian Volunteer Corps for giving me the opportunity to discover a new country, a new culture and a new language. And thank you for leaving me wanting more. For giving me time to work out what this bewitching and complicated place means to me.

Thank you for the beautiful, crazy and unexpected excursions which were beyond my wildest dreams. For the wonderful language classes, the educational forums and the sociable havaks. For the varied, challenging and inspirational workplaces.

Thank you for letting us let our hair down at the weekends (and sorry for how wholeheartedly some of us took this offer up…!)

Thank you for introducing me to a new family who not only welcomed me into their lives with open arms and hearts but also had my father and aunt round for dinner during their trip!

Thank you for introducing me to my brothers and sisters from all around the world who I never knew I had and now can’t imagine living without. And to those of you who told me I was welcome to come visit, watch out!

And finally, thank you for giving me this moment on my return to England. I was able to sit with my incredible grandmother who has never been to Armenia in her life and show her my photographs, tell her my stories, answer her questions… and show her my tattoo :s

This is the thing I want to thank you for most. It’s not something I can put in words so here are some photos.

It’s Not Goodbye, It’s See You Later

Shogheek Apkarian
(United States, AYF Summer Internship 2012)

It has been over a month since my experience in Armenia and there is not a single day that I don’t miss it. I constantly look through my pictures, read my journal, and Skype with my new life long friends. Never have I imagined something leaving such a large influence on me! I had been to Armenia twice before, but why did I never feel as attached to the country as I do now? This is why. I lived amongst the locals. I worked with them, interacted with them, and even stayed in their homes. That is truly the best way to get a feel of the country.
One thing that definitely made this trip so unique was going beyond Yerevan. We stayed in villages, did community service, visited schools and much more. And although staying outside Yerevan required some courage and strength, I never complained once. I enjoyed the long hike through the Dilijan forest, even if the thorns were making my legs burn. I enjoyed crawling through a muddy bat cave, even if my clothes were all dirty. I enjoyed living in simple homes in the villages, even if there wasn’t running water. Those small inconveniences mean NOTHING when you’re having the time of your life. Your horizons are widening and your eyes are opening to a whole different lifestyle. And the best part is that you’re not doing it alone.
In the course of two months I saw my friends perspectives change too. In the beginning of our trip, I will admit, people complained about minor things. But as time went on, those small things that people were complaining about, they ended up cherishing. Those interns that were shy and reserved all of a sudden flourished and became more social than I am. Even interns that came just for the sake of doing an internship became curious and interested in the country. One of those interns went to every museum with me, asked me about every Armenian story or legend, and asked me to teach him to read Armenian. I felt proud of being Armenian. I felt proud of our country because I watched it change my life and the lives of others.
I am anticipating the day that I return to Armenia. I dream of it constantly! Even if my next trip is not with the same friends that I made, I will meet new Armenians, hear new stories, and learn more than before. Each experience is unique and you better believe I’m looking for many more of those. See you soon Hayastan <3

The Day Before Leaving Hayastan

Anahit Movsesyan
(United States,  ’12)

Just took a bite of a juicy peach, already moved out of the house and at my uncles house. A little emotional, like I have been for the past few days, but that’s to be expected. Felt a little hot, so I opened the windows in the living room and looked outside at the view. I remember, before I moved into the house and before these past few months in Armenia, I would look out into this view and feel emptiness. I’ll tell you why. When I was here 20 days earlier to stay with family, I hadn’t gotten to explore anything. Family was too busy, old friends were long gone, and my grandma wasn’t capable to take me anywhere. Looking out into the city meant nothing to me because I hadn’t made any memories that left an impression on me.

And now… now that I look at it, it takes my breath away. I am in awe of all that is happened in the past month, the people I’ve met, the places I’ve been to and most importantly the things I have experienced. Those all mixed together made this trip not only perfect but more than I expected it to be (and I had some high expectations). To think about the fact that I may not be back for a few years and knowing that it won’t be with the same Birthright-ers and even AYF-ers makes me sad. And that is expected, you know, to be sad. But this is a new kind. I am already yearning to be with the people that have made this experience so great, knowing that we may never again be here together.

But past that, it was all about the journey here. Yes, it came to an end, but the journey is what makes it the greatest part. From the caves in Areni to cleaning the shores of Sevan, I will always remember our laughs, hard times, complaints (most of which were mine) and the conversations.

If there is one thing I have learned from this trip is let go of my perceptions before certain experiences. I’ve learned to pause the thoughts in my head even just for a second to enjoy what is in front of me. I have taken mental photos and ‘videos’ of my time here. I know that as time goes on, I will forget. But I will never forget how I feel now.

I am happy for the people I have met, the times we have had, but my heart breaks.

It feels like yesterday my mom was kissing me goodbye at the airport before I went through security check. I cannot wait for that same kiss when I am back home.

The only thing I can do now is hope. Hope that one day I can run into Satenig from Belarus or see all the Canadians at once. I hope that one day I can see wedding photos of Raffi and Tamar.

It is not guaranteed that I will see these people again, but the connections I have made are guaranteed. Connections all over the world, and I believe that has been the best aspect of my trip.

Heeng tzap, Hayastan.

Some Solicited Advice

Anahid Yahjian
(Los Angeles, CA, USA)

My reasons for doing Birthright Armenia were simple from the beginning: I wanted a year in Armenia so I could drown in the language and read books and travel all over the country and hopefully come out of it with some clarity about whether I should pursue a doctorate degree in comparative literature. I wanted to meet writers and artists, to try my hand at translation, and to watch as many films as possible. I had spent my college years reinterpreting my Armenian heritage as a text rather than a burden on my identity, and decided a deeper, direct foray into the material I had been studying remotely in sunny Los Angeles was necessary. Since the Fulbright didn’t come through, Birthright Armenia was the next way to make it happen. I worked through the summer and fall after college to save up a small nest egg to equal about a year’s worth of drams, packed my bags and flew over. Birthright Armenia was my way of keeping a roof over my head and having a set support system and resources available to me as I built my base for the first time in a foreign country. The first few months in Armenia are challenging, to say the least, and knowing that I could go through the ups and downs of figuring it all out without having to worry about paying rent was an absolute blessing.

That’s it. “Birthright Armenia” isn’t what one should name their time in Armenia, especially when coming here with a clear set of objectives. Birthright Armenia is a means of supporting those objectives, and anyone who expects the organization to mediate or control their understanding of this place is setting themselves up for disappointment. Getting to know a place and its people is an incredibly personal experience, and to not take responsibility for it is a major disservice to one’s self. So if you’re reading this in an attempt to try and decide whether you should “do Birthright” or not, remember that the only thing you’ll be “doing” here is living–and so it’s entirely up to you to make it happen.