A Guest Writer! (Also, my first visitor)

Hey Babies! I hope you're enjoying your last licks of summer, soaking up those rays and shameless wet breakfasts. The following post was written by my dear friend Arielle Schecter. I asked her if she wanted to write a guest post as I thoroughly enjoy her writing and also because it makes me feel special to do so. I haven't edited or altered anything beyond adding pictures to the narrative; it's pure Arielle! I will update ya'll on other happenings next time. Meanwhile, enjoy a fresh perspective!

8/21/13

Church, Yerevan 

We were in Yerevan yesterday and the day before. I jogged across a tall bridge yesterday morning, over and back, over and back. I pretended in my head that I was an elite athlete training for the Olympics, hoping the gawking men would understand my fiction and be proud for me. I don't think it worked.

There's a park underneath the bridge where smooching young people go at night, but not too late. Carolyn tells me that women in Armenia are virtuous, or they're considered 'bad girls'. I don't think you're allowed to be a combination of both. The men all have tattoos on their thumbflesh webs indicating blood type - a souvenir from army conscription.

Lots of women wear high heels here. Carolyn admits this doesn't make sense in the villages, where the roads are bad, but they do it anyway. That's why the old women have smushed-up feet and backs.

Yesterday we saw a radiant pregnant lady in a white dress. She walked with her cautious-looking spouse through a park near the biggest church in Armenia. I got dizzy just looking at the arched ceiling in there. Carolyn got propositioned by an elderly gent who at first scolded her for taking photos of a janitorial worker. "I think they think it's shameful to do that to her while she's doing that kind of work," Carolyn explained.

Piano, Yerevan

We lit orange vigil candles in a side room and walked over to the park, where a man in a striped shirt made conspicuous circles around us on his child-sized white and red mountain bike. We didn't like that, so we left for an outdoor cafe near a giant wading pool guarded by a set of honking black swans. There was also a piano made out of fake grass. I bought my niece a coloring book from a vendor who shook his calculator at me when I failed to understand the 200-dram (50-cent) price quote. I think people assume I'm Armenian not because I look like one but because they're not used to foreigners. I'm getting a lot of practice for my smile-and-nod routine.

As the Clouds Roll In, Lake Sevan

8/22/13
It rained yesterday at Lake Sevan. We sulked in a tented cafe while Euro-pop blared from the speakers. I think I had five espressos. A fly-covered dog tried to befriend Carolyn, but she wasn't having it. "He's probably dying," she pronounced.

I've already broken my watch and dropped a towel in a muddy puddle. Things are going well otherwise. Carolyn picked a rose flower from her yard to put on the table alongside the almonds, coffees, and German yogurt cups. She's on the phone planning a poetry recitation contest for her students. She's already informed me that if we wanted to smoke cigarettes or have a glass of wine while I'm here, we'd have to do these things in secret.

Carolyn and Dog, Lake Sevan

There is a pear tree in Carolyn's yard, and also one with figs. There is a nice view of the garden from the outhouse doorway.

Judging by Carolyn's stickered pantry items, olive oil is nearly three times more expensive than sunflower oil. Tomato paste is a popular Armenian cooking ingredient; it comes in large jars. The water tank suspended over the sink is a great conservation motivator.

The requested imports of peanut butter and Papermate Flair pens are displayed prominently in the kitchen. I've never seen Carolyn as excited as she was when we found pesto in the SAS grocery store in Yerevan. "You don't understand," she enthused. "This is unprecedented." I smiled encouragingly. "And tuna!" she almost shouted. "Ari, they have tuna!"

(I asked Ari if she wanted to wrap-up her post; she declined. I can not leave the post in the middle of the highway...so...this is where I say "To Be Continued" and you anxiously await the next episode!)