#3: Uncertainty
Leaving contradictory places unexplored is always sad. But I decided to think about the current state of things irrationally rational — whatever is happening now in the world is not logical, it can’t be predicted with normal rationality because it’s as chaotic and unbalanced as it ever could be. We have never experienced anything like this before, and no one could teach us how to act in such circumstances — because no one could ever know.
The good news is that we can still learn from our mistakes. For example, I was told there are basically two parts of the city where I could stay in Istanbul: European — the historical center and Asian — the trendy part of the city. ‘Oh, the choice is simple — I want European experience!’ — I thought. But the problem is that in Istanbul, the most experientially European part of the city is actually geographically Asian. Thanks, universe, I’m starting to really dig your jokes.
After some time in Yerevan, being quite pleasantly surprised with what’s happening around, I thought that maybe the Turkish experience was useful, because it lowered my expectations, which now helps me to be grateful for the simplest things. And, to be honest, I couldn’t complain.
My Armenia days started with confusion at the airport: first the border officer didn’t know what to do with me — perhaps I was the only one with a Russian passport, who flew from Turkey to Armenia, not otherwise. Then local taxi drivers surrounded me like pigeons when you throw some food at them, and just couldn’t let me find a proper taxi with a mobile taxi app. Then a taxi driver, the ‘chosen one’ couldn’t comprehend why Russian soldiers went to the war: ‘If someone tells me to take a gun and go kill other people — I’ll say ‘No!’, why can’t they do the same?’ I had some hard times explaining how the majority of Russian people think.
But once in my first room in Yerevan, I somehow found some peace of mind, even though the room was certainly not perfect because of the road just under windows as vintage as the whole place itself.
This vintage touch of the entire place was quite tasty and stylish — sitting behind the large wooden table in my room I couldn’t help imagining myself as an exiled Russian anti-regime poet or a writer of ~18th century, sent to one of the Caucasian regions of the Russian Empire.
Before this spring I had never been to southern countries, so I still find it difficult to comprehend some aspects of them, especially the contrasts. It just so happened that the word Europe meant Scandinavia to me. Before visiting some central European countries a couple of years ago, I thought most European countries are just warmer variants of Scandinavia. I was disillusioned a bit a couple years ago, but now Croatia and Montenegro showed me some radical diversity of European flavours. So, it’s not like I was surprised to see some dramatic contrasts here, in Yerevan, especially after Istanbul, but… well, from what I can gather, southern countries are all about contrasts.
There are three (five) places that central Yerevan reminds me of: best and worst parts of Petersburg, best and worst parts of Moscow and… imaginary New York city, where I’ve been only virtually and in movies. It’s difficult to explain, but some districts of Yerevan make me think I’m in New York for some reason, and that’s not just me, as far as I know.
Facades of Yerevan can be quite stylish. Yards can be depressing. Unabatedly hooting on every possible (mostly unreasonable) occasion, drivers consider themselves superior to mere mortal pedestrians, who should be careful. The cars are mostly very expensive or very cheap and shabby. Police join this road-party with always-on blinkers and traffic-controllers whistling relentlessly while (seemingly pointlessly) doubling street lights on busy crossings. People smoke everywhere, sometimes it’s prohibited to smoke at a café terrace, but it’s considered OK if you just stand next to it.
I can’t call streets dirty, but they’re certainly not fresh or well-maintained. Stray dogs, all ‘labeled’, seemingly nourished, wander and lie just about everywhere. The downtown is full of trendy hipster cafés and restaurants all overcrowded by Homo Laptopians. Walk in — you’re in Scandinavia, walk out — big chances you’re back to the Russian countryside. There’s even an extremely trendy café made of a garage, hidden from a main street in a yard.
Quite often you can find yourself thinking that the whole city is a big construction site — so many things are being built all around, I guess the city will look very different in 5 years or so. It’s not rare that you stumble upon another park or an alley. Modern design trends didn’t yet reach the majority of shop owners. It’s not difficult to notice that most people on the streets don’t earn much.
For example, check the musical instrument stores — they don’t have decent middle-class gear and instruments: mostly cheap Chinese and a very narrow selection of overpriced premium-class ones. They have to pay too much for importing just a couple of good instruments here, which will stay in the store for a long time.
Still, the place is closer to Moscow with its vibe and liveliness than to Petersburg. At the same time, overcasts are definitely of Petersburg’s style, though perhaps thanks to liveliness, they’re not as depressing. And when it’s hot, everyone says it’s better to stay further from downtown, which is the lowest part of the city.
Then we come to water, which is absent. One small mountain river in a huge canyon splitting the downtown from western districts; some fountains here and there; a couple of small kinda artificial lakes — yes, but I never thought I’d miss water as I miss it here. Not that I’m really sad or anything, but at least a couple of times I noticed thoughts like: ‘Would be nice to go to a riverbank or a sea shore, oh wait…’ and then some light aftertaste of sadness.
Anyways, it’s time to finish this note, I’ve been trying to do so for almost a week already. But I am just so unfocused and unable to find the right words all the time. One friend of mine asked me a couple of days ago whether I feel better here, freer and safer — I realised I can’t answer this question because I just can’t think of anything like that. I’ve been kind of disconnected from reality since I left. I spent about three weeks watching sunsets and sunrises by the sea shore with some beautiful scenery around every time, but it all feels like torn pieces of old dreams. Like if I fell asleep yesterday in Petersburg and woke up in Yerevan (or wherever I am) today.
Do I like Yerevan? Well, it’s complicated.
Armenian people? Still complicated.
Armenia in general? Not enough information.
I’ve stayed here for two weeks already, and I still don’t know much. It’s not some Scandinavia which you love or don’t the second you enter, that’s for sure.
