Running around Armenia

Running

There really isn’t a running culture in Eastern Europe or Eurasia.  And even more rare are female runners.  That’s a reason I get a lot of weird stares…like they think I’m robbing a bank or a spy chasing after some villain, but maybe I lost him?  (seriously, can I be a spy? Putin, if you are reading this…I’m watching you. and yes. that is a tiger.)



Sometimes I do feel like I’m in some survival training as I try to manage the suicidal sidewalks or lack thereof and instead am confronted with the even more dangerous highways as I feel the impact of the electrons of the cars reaching into my personal forcefield to say hi.  Seriously? No one drives on their side of the line anyways, so why do you insist on doing it when a runner is in your lane?



Why do I continue to risk my life for a hobby that only results in shin splints and arthritic knees?  I believe my run in Yerevan will summarize it perfectly.  I will highlight the truths learned on my journey which is less about the calories burned and more about the adventure literally and mentally. (Although, I admittedly run so I don’t feel guilty for consuming catastrophic quantities of chocolate to celebrate office-Friday)



I went running yesterday to my favorite spot in Yerevan.  It was 6 miles, but I could have done more.  Here’s why: with every step I discovered more culture of this beautiful country - some good, some great, some humbling, some annoying.



1.  Sidewalks - even if you can find them, they are uneven, a mess of holes, or turned into a parking lot...for those lazy people who drive cars and can't even stand to walk 2 blocks to actually park their cars.  It's like they forget they have legs or something.

2.  Cancer???  I inhaled so much 2nd-hand smoke, I might need a lung transplant.  (I have to admit, this is one issue that makes me appreciate America with it’s smoke-free restaurants, I can actually have my cake and eat it too…)

3.  People love to hangout.  Walking is a hobby here.  Just going on a stroll with your baby, your boyfriend, your best friends is a typical everyday activity.

4.  GUYS HOLD HANDS!! And they aren’t gay… It’s so cool. 



5.  And girls and guys can’t keep their hands off each other.  PDA can be nauseating.  One couple making out in the park is kind of sweet and cute, but…15…seriously?  Let’s just have a special park for lovers and they can all gather there and tell me so it’s not included on my route.



6.  Guys bring girls flowers.  It’s so adorable passing a couple with the girl carrying a(n obnoxiously) large bouquet of roses or a guy just heading out to meet his date unashamedly carrying a colorful collection of flowers.  Sometimes I’m tempted to stop running… ;)

(AND when there’s a BIG bouquet…they can’t make out until they’ve found a place for the flowers! WE ALL WIN!!!)



7.  It’s not always 'like riding a bicycle'.  Most people don’t learn to ride a bike. BUT, it’s a new fad and it’s awesome running by a reasonably smooth surface (remember how rare those are) seeing so many ADULTS trying to ride a bike for their first time. 

8.  Men will pee anywhere, especially when they are drunk. 

mouth-watering?

9.  Bakeries - America, you don’t know what bread is...and I pity you.
  FACT: bakery fumes are filled with fascinating powers.  I could run 100 miles if every mile there was a bakery.  AND, in Armenia, you don't find a bakery, a bakery finds you.  There are no less than 5 bakeries within a 1-mile radius.  (So, once we stop the cigarettes…I think Armenias will be superheroes!)

10.  Strength; Not my own.  I ran to the genocide memorial.  It has a beautiful park, usually away from smokers and a great view over the city.  It reminds me that Armenians have sacrificed.  They are resilient.  And they are building a stronger future.  I have so much hope for my friends here that inspire me by their kindness and love.  



Dear World,

We study history because otherwise we would forget how stupid people become when they do not remember the past.  It’s a circle really.

But, I do believe the only way we’ll end tragic events like genocide is to remember their history, the pain, the loss, the destruction, and especially the lies that enabled them. And then remember the survivors - their strength, endurance, hope, and sacrifice.



I know this isn’t in my usual blog-style.  But, I am choosing to remember.
And running through Armenia is a good reminder.


update:
3 days later I started a tour of Southern Armenia for work. 
I've been in two small villages with more observations!

I was able to lace up my running shoes (not literally...I'm one of those lazy people who will rarely untie them) in Yeghegnadzor (everytime I try to say it, someone corrects me...I'm pretty sure my mouth was just not meant for this city)  HOWEVER, my feet were!  I was in heaven!!  I found an idyllic country road and got in another 5 miles!  It was perfect!!

SO, my list has to continue:

11.  Running reminds me that there are many different ways to enjoy life!

I ran down and through the valley of Yeghegnadzor!

I passed by strangers, once I found a real road leading back into town, who just stared as if I was a creature from space.  There were maybe two restaurants in town and even the grocery story I visited only sold meat, cheese, and bread.  SO, they are enjoying home cooked meals everyday.  Probably not going out clubbing, concerts, or even the movies (didn't see one of those in town yet either), but they wake up in heaven every morning!

A view from downtown!

It's not dirty...but, that's my underwear...hanging outside your window.

So, my life isn't as glamorous as some may think.  True, I have enjoyed many different cities throughout the world.  But, I think this post will highlight a less-than polished perspective of the mundane moments I have endured whilst traveling.

Inevitably, when you are least prepared the worst happens.  Sometimes it's the inability to prepare (first example) and sometimes it's just optimism (second).

I have travelled extensively for the past few years and I cannot even remember when my checked-luggage was late.  There was that one time I missed my plane to Kyiv and my luggage actually arrived BEFORE I DID.  Let's talk about being betrayed by efficiency.  I had to heckle with customs officers for hours in my broken Ukrainian and their broken English (this was my first trip to UA) in order to finally retrieve it.  There's nothing that beats jet-lag after a ridiculously long international flight, than the first introduction to Ukrainian bathrooms and 'card-board' toilet paper, OR the arbitrary lines formed in post-soviet countries to avoid waiting but instead become an endless maze that even the most skillful navigator who upon reaching the surface will find that the 'exit' is temporarily closed whilst the passport officer has his/her 15-min bathroom break, OR an over-bearing 'welcome' from an unhappy and corrupt customs worker who I now realize probably made me wait for hours thinking he could get a bribe out of the new American whose luggage was sitting just behind his desk wrapped in cellophane. What he didn't count on was my extreme naivety.  (that was then...now, $10 otta do it...or increase by $5s...oh, and it's called a "tip" not a bribe.) Yeah, thanks to Ukraine, I grew up fast.  That was just the first day but it didn't tarnish my trip too much since I keep going back!

And now that brings us to present day.  Only slightly reversed.

Usually for a long trip, I'll sufficiently pack a carry-on with all the essentials.  But, my optimism and excitement for a 14-hour layover in Vienna made me disregard all travel-blogs as I thought about enjoying Strudel and a concert in Mozart's flirtatious city.

Hello, Vienna! Took this picture of the Riesenrad while biking through Leopoldstadt.

I could store a bag in a locker, but really? When was the last time I didn't get my luggage?  (Actually, I remember now...Ukraine 2 years ago...had a nice "tip" to pay when it was finally found...But, I certainly didn't remember that with visions of Vienna circulating throughout my head).  Therefore, I 'threw all caution to the wind' as I optimistically packed my magical Thai sling-bag with travel size toothpaste, makeup, water-bottle, i-pad, an umbrella (because I at least headed the advice of the weather man...WHO WAS WRONG.  Go figure. Try to be prepared and it's useless. Don't prepare and armageddon starts.)  and my running shoes (yes, I cannot bear to not have them for one day...and yes, I will run in 100 COUNTRIES before I die.  Unless I die prematurely...in that case, please see my funeral instructions for details: Amy's Funeral Pyre), and of course the necessary clothing allowance.  (Thai sling-bags are essentially the precursor to the carpet-bag, which the charming Marry Poppins transcendentally flaunted for the entire-world to revere.)

The fact that my trip to Vienna, which this post will not portray, was practically perfect, made the particular coincidence on this said occasion of which my luggage got stuck in Vienna -  despite the 17 hours in which a semi-observant person working for Vienna airlines could have figured out what to do with 2 abandoned black bags - only a minor nuisance and not the supreme tragedy it could have been.  Although, the 2 hours it took after arriving at 3:30 am in Yerevan to locate my lost luggage was slightly irritating (irritation caused from sleep-deprivation mostly and REMEMBER THOSE ARBITRARY POST-SOVIET LINES...yeah, those came in to play again.)

More Vienna...I think the church has re-branded itself.
I didn't know H&M was Catholic?
History Lesson: This church was constructed to honor the survival of Franz Joseph
from a knife-attack...how many assassins did these emperors endure before WWI?

Assured my luggage would most-likely arrive the next day, I made it to my apartment and slept a few hours before going to work.  That was Wednesday.  Luggage was promised to be delivered on Thursday.  And, I had a recruitment trip on Friday.  With only one spare change of clothes (one of which was strictly for exercise and a cultural faux pas to wear anywhere in Eastern Europe or Eurasia for anything else but exercising...yes, American college students, you don't actually have to wear gym clothes to class...in fact you may be shunned if you do.) I prudently decided to do some laundry.  Yes, it was in my sink...but, when living in hotels across Eastern Europe doesn't come without learning a few tricks.  Especially since laundry-mats are a novelty and as rare as the truth in a Kremlin media-release. 

That is where this story reaches it's apparent climax.  My apartment is situated on the 10th floor close to Yerevan's center.  My windows look out over a busy street, with stunning views of the opera house, Soviet-Mother Armenia, the Ferris wheel all lit up at night, and the Cascades.  It is out one of those windows that I hung, evidently not so securely, my laundry to dry for the night.  Waking up at an unquestionably early hour whether from my body trying to familiarize itself with it's new time-zone or an illuminating realization that my underwear was hanging outside a 10-story window, I felt I should be concerned.  Now, it wasn't torrential and I wasn't ashamed of lining up bras and socks to drip-dry, but even a slight sigh at 10-stories is enough to whip a pigeon in circles.  I rushed to my window to rescue my laundry!  The breezy-morning had taken its toll but I was able to retrieve all but the most pertinent part to every-day attire...you know...the underthing...undies...my loin cloth.

Yeah, it was gone...but, in the radiant light of the sunrise I spotted it precariously perched on my 9th-floor neighbors line.  Watching in disbelief, wishing for one arm to be 9 feet longer, I waited for another gust of wind to come along and take them all the way down so I could at least run down to the street to pick them up off the side-walk.  I was not about to introduce myself to my neighbors in broken Russian and have to explain what my underwear was doing on their balcony.  But, I'm still waiting.

Yerevan!

Oh, and Happy Independence Day, Armenia!!