Sanahin Monastery.After weeks of anticipation (and weblog stasis) I have finally arrived in Yerevan, Armeniaómy home for the next six months. From here I will be conducting research on the privatization of essential utilities, namely energy and water, for my masterís thesis.
Arriving early in the morning last Thursday, my first few days in Yerevan were a bit of a shock. After a couple brief hours of sleep and a tour of the university I will be working out of, I hit the streets. Widespread poverty was immediately apparent, with many families calling run down tenements and rusting sheet-metal shacks home. Many elderly women grace the sides of the streets selling sunflower seeds as a humble means of subsistence. Evidence of an opulent elite was also obvious, as imported BMWs and Mercedes are often seen breaking up the long lines of Russian Ladas that comprise traffic in Yerevan.
By my second day, I was fortunate enough to find an English-speaking cultural tutor, who laid out the rules on how not to get killed in Armenia: donít insult a manís family, donít sleep with virgins, and donít piss off the mafia. He guarantees me that these are three simple ways to find yourself with a bullet to the head in this ancient holy land.
Unfortunately, it took far less than a vengeful brother or angry mobster to take me outóby the weekend I had developed some serious and uncontrollable internal disagreements with my new home. Whether it was the change in climate (days here are very dry, dusty and in the high 30s), food (I have forsaken my vegetarian diet in exchange for some cultural integration and fewer culinary headaches) or bacteria (unsurprisingly, Armenia has not adopted the obsession with anti-bacterial everything that has robbed Westernersí bodies of their ability to fend off germs naturally), I was confined to my bed for the weekend with an unidentifiable illness that left my head and throat screaming to go home, and my skin resembling something like dried lavash.
Monday afternoon came, and I found enough energy and ibuprofen to make it up the hill to the university where my internet connection has proven to be a sanctuary as I adjust to life in this post-communist state. Now that my body has adjusted to the quirks of Armenian life, it is time to dive back into the culture as I grabble with acclimatizing myself before I begin researching the privatization schemes that have further indebted the poorest people of this country.
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