A typical day

Moving to Armenia was a great leap of faith.

by Maria Titizian

Published: Saturday May 26, 2007 in Living in Armenia

Typical spring flowers. Armen Hakobyan

Making the decision to come was easy. Actually getting here with all our physical and emotional baggage was hard. Living here has been extraordinary, to say the least. I am not going to philosophize about our reasons for moving here, or describe in minutiae what monumental changes have occurred in our lives as a family since. Anyone who has lived here will intuitively know and anyone who dares to dream about moving here ... well, you'll just have to make that great leap of faith for yourself.

There is a plethora of stories that any one of us "repats" can write volumes about. Some are funny, some sad, and some so devastating that you dare not whisper them in fear of losing faith in humanity. Those of us who came and stayed - because there have been those who came and didn't stay - have learned to take things in their stride. To laugh, to cry, to rejoice, to lament and grieve, to be so frustrated that you think your organs will explode, but most of all to laugh. That has been our remedy against that which we experience daily. To have to feel every possible human emotion on a daily basis is taxing on the spirit.

At first you are enchanted by the possibility, the sheer unbelievable capacity to feel, for you have had a devastatingly boring existence in comparison to this. And then it wears you down so that you feel like an open wound.

And then you remember to laugh.

Laughter intertwined with the abyss of the unknown. For Armenia is unknown territory, uncharted oceans even for those of us who are Armenian. Even for those of us who decided to stay, who needed to stay because if we didn't we wouldn't know how to live anymore anywhere else.

So, imagine varying degrees of human emotion constantly battling one another at your expense. Imagine a country whose physical features and climate are as diverse as the people who live within its borders. Living in Armenia for the past six years has afforded me the opportunity and dis­comfort to experience emotions ranging from bliss to outright, unadulterated frustration.

Stimulation can be a positive force in your life but sometimes you wind up aching for a small dose of monotony. There have been days when I have wanted to pull my hair out at the absolute absurdity of accomplishing simple tasks such as paying my utility bills. Other days have left me scratching my head in disbelief and wonderment at the kindness of the human spirit. I don't just think I'm in the twilight zone: I am in the twilight zone. For some reason which I have yet to decipher, Armenia is a country prone to physical and human extremes. Ancient yet modern, beautiful and ugly, kindness and cruelty all wrapped up in one neat package.

Perhaps the best way to illustrate what I mean is to tell you a story of an incident that occurred a few weeks ago.

It was May 12, 2007, the day that Armenians were going to the polls to elect their new parliament. I had a few errands to run but unfortunately failed to realize that most state institutions, banks, and stores were closed. The only reprieve was that there was very little traffic and I was suddenly reminded of why I love to drive. I needed to go to the bank to withdraw money from my account. However, once at the ATM, I realized that I had forgotten my PIN. After two failed attempts at guessing, I remembered vaguely that on the next attempt, if I entered the wrong PIN, the machine might not return my card. I tried the door to the bank and it was closed. As I was standing there figuring out what to do, a man in his mid-40s came out of the bank and, seeing my confusion, wanted to know how he could help me. I told him about my stupid situation and he reminded me not to try entering another guess as the machine would swallow my card. After a few awkward seconds, he told me to come into the bank so that we could figure out what to do. He called someone at their head office and told him that a very close friend of his, me, had somehow managed to forget her PIN and was there anything they could do to help me get some money out of my account. The person on the other end of the line told him that I would have to come back the next banking day and that there was nothing they could do for me. I stood there, once again stupidly, until this man, a complete stranger took out his wallet and offered to loan me money. Well to say that I was speechless is the biggest understatement of my life. I thanked him effusively but said that I would manage and left the bank. I sat in my car for a few minutes stunned at what had just transpired. Just as I was driving off, another man driving a ridiculously expensive car at an even more ridiculous speed almost ran me off the road.

What did I do? I laughed until my insides hurt. After all, it was just a typical spring day in Yerevan.