cultural windows on Baghramian Avenue

so. i went downtown yesterday just to walk around and get a positively mediocre falafel ( strong argument for going to israel). it was a gorgeous day and so after walking around the art park, where painters come to try to sell their paintings to tourists, I decided to walk home in the afternoon sun. 75 degrees. blue skies. mid afternoon. falafel in my belly and a bottle of sparkling water in my bag. sunday afternoon.
about 1/3 of my way home, I noticed a bird singing in the tree. there are supposed to be all sorts of rare birds here, so i tried to snap a picture of it, but it flittered off. kept walking. 10 minutes later, i stopped on the sidewalk, in the shadow of a statue, to send a text. this guy walked up as i was texting and said "you're not from here are you? you look maybe irish, yes?"
I looked up, unenthusiastic and said something along the lines of "Umm...yeah". In my travel experiences, little good comes from being approached and called out as a foreigner.
I went back to my text, which takes forever with this 'smart phone'.
he just kind of stood there. he said "I thought you must be from somewhere like that. are you a student here"
"umm...sort of". less enthusiastic. not looking up from the text.
so I delay with the text and start to wonder what this guy's game is. but eventually, its obvious that he is going nowhere, just standing there, trying to engage me. I finish the text, put my phone in my pocket and continue walking. of course he falls into step. why wouldn't he. this isn't the norm in armenia. people don't accost foreigners. usually, they try to ignore them. panhandling and begging in seriously tabboo, so i'm doubting that. in other countries, you might expect to hear a story about a grandmother that needs a surgery or a cousin with a greencard that expires in 2 days, who needs just this much more money for his plane ticket. but i haven't much seen it go down like that in armenia. there is a kind of collective psychology that no matter how bad shit is, it was worse during the war, right after the fall of the soviet union. after the earthquake. so what is this guy all about? whats going on? he definitely didn't seem like a threat. no menace to his slight frame, old sneakers and yankees baseball hat. he had kind of a mousy, deferential gait to him, hunched shoulders, following just a quarter of a step behind me.
he goes into smalltalk about armenia. life here. how its hard. talks about how he could tell i was a foreigner because of the beard and the t-shirt and the red hair, of course. how he knew he could walk up to me becuase i'm not armenian. (whatever that meant).
he tells me that he saw me back there, taking a picture of the red bird that i saw and he liked that i was trying to take a picture of a bird. no Armenians care to notice and take pictures of birds
(what the fuck? he's been following me? ok, now this is getting a little sketchy)
and then he says "Life here is very hard in Armenia...for people like me"
What kind of people is that? I ask, getting curious now. I should note that we were walking down one of the busiest streets in Yerevan, with lots of taxis, so I figured if it gets bad, in broad daylight, I can always hop in a taxi and go get out of here.
He says "In Armenia, people say that all Armenians are straight. I am not straight."
I kinda thought this was where it was going to go.

"I can see that. I believe you. People here think its a choice right? They think people choose to be gay and they think thats a bad choice to make, right?"

"Yes. People think its against our culture to be gay. They don't know that I do not have a choice. I cannot choose"

"Yeah. Some people still think like that in America, too. Some people think its bad to be gay in my country, too. But I think its getting better and there are definitely places in America where being gay is more accepted than it is in America. It must be very hard here."

"No body knows. My family does not know. My friends do not know. They maybe suspect, but they do not know. Its harder for me because I live with my parents and I have no job. After the University, like many Armenians, I can find no job".

"Have you ever thought about trying to leave? Go to a country that accepts their gay community more? Somewhere in Europe or somewhere?"

"If I cannot find a job here, I will have no luck anywhere else. I try for the Greencard Lottery, but it has been 5 years now. I am beginning to think it is a lie, this lottery. I used to think that I will go to the Doctor and get the surgery. To change my sex. I used to want this very much. I saw this show on the television show, do you know this? There was this Israeli woman who won, this singer. She was very inspirational to me. Because I learned that she used to be a man, in Israel, and she changed. I like this very much. This changed my thinking when I learned of her"

"I haven't heard of her. But don't you think it would be harder here for you if you did that? Maybe you should think about leaving Armenia first, to go somewhere where you could be accepted more, before you have surgery. I would think that would be safer for you."

"You can understand this as a theory and think about it. But you don't know how this feels to be me. I've thought about going to the Doctor here and just ask to do it. I still think about it."

"You're right. I don't know. I just know that in America, there are some cities that are more accepting and open-minded, so alot of people move there to be accepted and to find a supportive community. San Francisco. New York. Los Angeles...but you're right. I don't know what its like to want that. Have you ever gone down to Cocoon? [the only gay bar that i know of in Armenia]"
"I know of it, but I have never gone, because I am afraid to be associated with this place". By this point, we had gotten back to my neighborhood and I didn't really want to invite this guy over. Not because I didn't like him or didn't feel for him. But because of the desperation, pouring his soul out to a stranger. I didn't know what he could be capable of if he started to sound more desperate.

"Have you ever..."

We were standing at an intersection, waiting for traffic. "No, man. Thats not my thing. I really wish I could help you."

"Have you ever though about it? In the world of gay life, there are tops and bottoms. I am a bottom. You could close your eyes. And pretent I am a woman"

"Dude. I have gay friends. I understand. But like you said. This is theoretical for me. Its just not in me. I wish I could help you. But its just not my thing. Its like if a woman walked up to you and asked her to have sex with you. You just wouldn't be interested. Even if she was nice. Don't take it personal."

"Thats what they say. One said he was married. Another said he was too religious."

"Well. I don't know about them. And I don't envy you. I bet its really hard here in Armenia for you. People don't understand this yet, do they?"

"No they don't. Nobody knows. I've never told an Armenian before".

"Well man, I'm sorry. But I'm going to go now."

"Have you been to the bridge up the street? Its a very nice bridge and there is a beautiful view. You could take your camera. We could take some very nice pictures. It is very beautiful"

(More firmly) "No, man. I'm not going to the bridge with you. I wish you luck"
I was a little worried he was going to walk out into traffic. He was just so desperate. The gayness, thats cool. I've been hit on before. There's even a couple of things I didn't tell him. But the desperation was sickly and I hate to admit it, but repulsive.
If it had been a woman walking up to me on the street and she had been like "Just let me suck your dick. No one lets me suck their dicks" it would have been just as repellent. It was the indescriminacy and it made me feel cheap. Not like the confidant that I originally felt like.
Anyways. Thats my story. I went into the supermarket and bought two beers and some bagel chips. Took the roundabout way home because I didn't put it past him to follow me home. I really hope he didn't. I really wont be surprised if I see this guy again. Like 30% of the rest of Armenia, he is unemployed with no relief in sight, so what else does he have to do with his days but wander the streets of Yerevan with his dark secret, his hidden identity and his fear. It made me pretty depressed when I went home. I really feel for the guy. I don't want to fuck him but I wish there was something else I could do. Wish I could get him a greencard and a job in some country that wouldn't hate him for who he is. And then I depressed myself even more. I realized that in the 1,600 years of Armenian history. In the last 1,000 years of world history. 2,000 year. How many people have had to keep their identity in the shadows, had to hide their true self from friends and family. The world needs to wake the fuck up. What is the price of having to hide who you are? I have seen one really 'butchy' lesbian woman at the bar, once and she had scars from cutting all up and down her forearms. I've seen that before. So much fear and self-loathing and lack of control over life. Driving people to lash out at the only thing they have control over. Themselves. Sorry if this is depressing. I don't think it is, ultimately. Its sad, yes. But things are getting better. True, America has a hell of a long way to go, but look how far we have come. I read last week that Obama gave his Secretary of Health (?) some directive to free policy up so that same-sex domestic partners have more say over care for partners in the Hospital. Year by year, I truly belive that America is becoming a more egalitarian society and as policy becomes more accepting (throw out the antiquated don't-ask-don't-tell policy), then collective attitudes and cultural norms will slowly shift as well. I don't have an answer for that poor bastard. I can't make it all better. And I'll die if I try to fix each story. Heal each broken heart. But in the big scheme? The wheels are in motion. I'm sure of it.
I hate the cheesy epilogue. But I'm trying to stay positive. Because living out here, you can't get stuck on focusing on how far they have to go. Focus on each little step you see a society taking from where they are at. Hell. Even the fact that there is a gay-friendly bar in Armenia. Even if it is the size of a broom closet. Thats one step. I just hope there don't have to be any Matthew Shepphards for Armenians to take any of the next steps toward a healthier society.

city bikes and la musee d'orangerie

Ok, so I was going to post this a week and a half ago, but I've been sick and haven't felt like sitting in front of the computer except for my Rosetta Stone: Russian lessons and watching Entourage season 2. Sorry.



As you may know, Paris has a City-Wide Bicycle Rental program. You buy a membership card by the day week or year and then you pay to rent a bike by the hour. 0-30 min is free, and then its one or a couple of euros per hour.
This is the terminal where you take a bike out. There are bike lockup stations, just for these city bikes, every few blocks, all over the city. You rent and unlock the bike in one place, bike to wherever you are going to and just lock up wherever you are going and there you go. Its fully automated and when you check the bike back in, the terminal automatically deducts from either your account or your credit card. I don't need to tell you that this is genius and needs to happen in every city in the United States, do I? Didn't think so.


A Velo bike station in the 4ieme district. Drool.


Beautiful example of city planning. There is a bike lane in the foreground, and then a protected bus-only lane, a garder and then regular traffic. Think as many people on bikes get hit by cars this way? Oh, and bike lanes have their own smaller traffic lights, where bikes are given the right to turn right at stops a few seconds before the cars and get to go forward a few seconds early, too. Glorious.




"Where do you take your dog to get her excercise? Most Parisians have these little tiny dogs that don't need alot of space..."

"Well, it depends, but usually, I take her up to the Louvre and we run around and I throw the ball for her in the shadow of the world's most famous museum. Its nice. Yeah, thats where we usually go. Its really nice. You should come sometime."




In my last blog, I made allusion to having spent the last day of my French vacation alone, Caity having flown back to the states. I wandered around, went back to the falafel spot just to be sure...and yeah, pretty fucking good falafel.

Anyways, I can't remember if I wrote it before, but I've been quite spoiled/ lucky and have been to Paris 4 times. The first time was when I was 15, on my way to live on a farm in rural France for a chunk of the summer. Did that 3 times. I've spend a total of a few weeks in Paris all together, so I've done alot of the tourist stuff, or at least, a good chunk. Paris is like New York. I think you could live there a year and only see a bit of it. But I've done a pretty good job. But there is one thing that has eluded me each time...
I'll back up. When I was a Freshman in highschool, we went on a field trip to the Museum of Fine Art in Boston. One artist really grabbed me. Monet. I didn't know what impressionism was from Marxism at the time and I don't know much better than that now, but I knew I liked him. That and one other painting, but thats beside the point. Point was, I fell in love with Monet.

Fast forward to my first trip to Paris. There are Monets sprinkled all over the city, I suppose. Many in the Musee D'Orsay. But there is one smaller museum called the Musee D'Orangerie that I had always wanted to go to. The building started once, humbly enough as the garden shed for the royal Tuleries garden area. I had never been able to find it and 2 of the previous times I actually tried, it turned out the museum was closed for an extended period for renovation.
You see, the Musee D'Orangerie had one claim, one distinction, apart from the rest of the collection, which included Renoirs, Picassos, Matisses, many others that I don't appreciate because I'm an uncultured, uneducated American. But the Musee D'Orangerie has Monet's Waterlilies.

Towards the end, Monet was going blind. Kind of like the cruel irony of Beethoven going deaf. In his later years, Monet's paintings got more and more well, impressionistic, as he couldn't see the shit anymore. One of his last projects, he painted these murals of the waterlillies in the pond in his garden. Huge murals. They form two huge ovals in two adjoining rooms that make a kind of infinity sign (ooh...deep!). But seriously, there are 4 murals in each room. Each one takes up a quarter of the perimeter of each room and they are about 6 feet tall. Now theres no way to really capture it. I've never been so surrounded, overwhelmed in this beautiful, beautiful way. All the colors, the only way I can use words to capture it is to bring in the other senses. These murals are like the visual equivalent of tasting fresh fruit, wearing sun-dried, hand-washed clothes and smelling lilac in bloom all at the same time. All while listening to children play and birds sing. I don't know. I'm at a loss. What I can say is that I entered the room and just sat down on the bench and soaked it up a little bit. Thats after standing close to the center of the room and turning slowly on my heel twice. It was sensory-overload, trying to take it all in. The thing by very definition, by simple dimensions, eludes your filed of vision. You look in one direction and try to take it all in, and it just keeps on going, right on behind you, past the corner of your eye. I hope every one of you gets to experience this someday. And when you do, imagine how peaceful this man must have been for the months and months that it must have taken.

Go find the Musee D'Orangerie.







Ok, so this really made an impression on me. These are two Picassos. But they were HUGE! I didn't know there were any Picasso paintings this big. I'm no art student. Ask Stacy to explain the painting. But for me, there was something super earthy. Dirt floors and burlap sacks and caloused fingers. Look at the feet. I don't know if you can see it. Anyways. I really liked these two paintings.



SERIOUSLY. CLICK ON THESE TO SEE THEM LARGER.