Ch 41, Day 32-33: The Veteran English Teacher

 5.3
kms, Sept 19, 2012

After
a week of walking through around Greater Yerevan, the Traveler opts
to take a break from hiking and hop on a minivan to the nearby city
of Ashkarat.
Here,
down from the sleepy main street, the ground suddenly disappears and
there's an impressive canyon running right through the city. The
Traveler can't pass up the opportunity to climb to the bottom and
take a swim in the refreshingly cool stream below.

It's
a beautiful moment... immersing himself in water in an intriguing
place, an isolated canyon in the middle of a city that he'd never
heard of before this day. Somehow, water immersion takes
"discovering a new place" to a new level.

I'll
have to do this more often, he tells himself

He
continues on down the gorge, hoping to find a way out. Sure enough,
there's an ancient bridge that looks like it could be from way back
in Roman times, and beyond a tiny chapel/shrine high up on a hilltop.
He figures that a tour of Ashkarat wouldn't be complete without a
mini-pilgrimage to the top.

Actually,
Ashkarat has a whole bunch of ancient church compounds... small
historical churches surrounded by a garden or courtyard, each a
little different, but with the distinct Armenian style.

The
Traveler can almost imagine what it would feel like to be Armenian,
and come here... and feel so connected with your roots, your
ethnicity and cultural heritage. Even if you weren't religious,
seeing all these chapels and shrines would give you this feeling of:
“This is my home”.

It
is nice that there is a country where, despite its problems,
Armenians can truly call it “home”. Most ethnic groups in the
world don't have that luxury.

The
Veteran English Teacher

The
Traveler wanders the back alleys of Ashkarat, between the main road
and the canyon. Suddenly he hears something that catches him off
guard. An old lady, sitting in a chair by the street greets him in
perfect English.

He
greet her back, wondering her story is. An American Armenian who has
come back to her native land to retire?

No.
“I'm an English teacher.” She explains. “I started teaching
back in 1956. I was considered the best teacher here in the city.
Since I retired, I've still continued tutoring students in English”

The
Traveler does some quick math... So... this lady has been teaching
English for the last 65 years! That's got to be a record!

He
sits down beside her, eager to learn more of her story. She will
surely be a gold mine of information about the last 7 decades of this
country...

And
she is. Her story is upbeat about her teaching career during Soviet
rule. Obviously teaching English wasn't the top priority back then,
but it was a part of the curriculum. She talks about
independence—and how much better it is that Armenia can now finally
chart its own destiny.

But
this doesn't mean that she is happy. “My heart is full of
grief—no, griefs”. She tells of how two of her children and one
of her grandchildren died, and how that has weighed her down, even
though she has other children and grandchildren who are still living
and doing well.

“Do
you believe in God? She asks the Traveler. He tries to be a bit
vague in his answer.

“I
don't know if there is a God, after all I have suffered” is her
response. “I really don't know what is the meaning to living.”

It
is a meaningful, albeit sad, experience, listening to someone tell of
a long, successful life—yet still have so much sorrow. She does
ask that he play a song for her, and of course he obliges, thinking
what words she might be able to connect with. She calls some of the
children who are in the street to listen as well. But as they get
rowdy, she gets upset about this.

“Children
just are as respectful these days as they used to be....”

Finally
the Traveler continues on his way. But he knows he will never forget
this veteran English teacher of Ashkarat.

Day
33: Village Hopping

27.9
kms, June 30, 2021

The
next day, the Traveler knows he has to go back south again to visit
that Yazidi temple. But it does look like, if he follows the Kasakh
River, there will be plenty of little farm towns on his way to break
up the hike, so it shouldn't be such a tedious hike.

So
he heads off, happy to enjoy a bit of shade from irrigated orchards
and wealthy fenced in estates along the way. When he reaches the
first town of Oshakan, he comes across a beautiful kebab
restaurant with cool rustic furniture and wall murals depicting life
as it used to be in this town. It's early for lunch, but the
Traveler knows he can't pass up the opportunity.

As
he waits for his kebab, he looks over the murals. One shows a street
scene when minstrels walking through town, playing flutes and
drums... a man dancing a balancing a gourd on his head... and old men
sitting at a teahouse, chatting. Their clothes do look an awful lot
like traditional Turkish attire... The owner does tell the Traveler
that, yes, this is what the town used to look like, right in front of
this restaurant. Turns out this sleepy little farm village has some
real history to it.

The
appreciation for this cool middle-of-nowhere restaurant is dampened a
bit when he is shown to the “restroom”. Down an alley... across
a vacant lot... up a little hill is an outhouse made of scrap metal
and a hole in the floor.

Yeah...
maybe they should of spent a little less money on artwork and
a little more on hygiene services...

He
continues on to the next village not far away. Here, in Voskevaz,
he finds another shady gazebo where a couple of old folks are
gathered. Again, they insist that he play some music for him.

“Habla
Espanol?” one of them ask the Traveler. He's very happy to hear
this. Finally! My multi-lingual skills are of some use here in
Armenia.

“I
moved with my wife and two children to Germany many hears ago” he
explains. “but we couldn't get our papers, so we went to
Barcelona, where we were able to get legal residency. But then,
after 2008 I couldn't find work any more. I got divorced from my
wife and finally came back here and started a new family”.

Divorces
don't seem very common in Armenian culture, so the Traveler imagines
that there must have been a good reason for his wife to divorce him.
No he works as a taxi driver, probably not making much—but he does
at least have a house here in Voskevaz.

This
doesn't seem to be quite the fairy tale ending like the other
encounters with Armenians who have made money abroad... then come
back to enjoy their golden years in their homeland.

So
the Traveler continues on, exploring one village after another in
quick succession... getting lost and losing all sense of direction as
he tries to get to the next village of Voskehat, finally
having to resort to Google Maps... Find a refreshing cafe with his
own private gazebo by a little lake near Aghavnatan... Reaching
Agarts, which has a full size town feel with a beautiful (and
probably recently built) church surrounded by a garden... After the
scrappy village of Tsaghkalanj, taking a dirt path along a
canal to Haytagh... then back on the main road to Arshaluys,
where there's a World War II memorial which cleverly blends
elements of Armenian and Soviet styles. The message seems to be
“Yes, your young men fought and died to defend the Soviet Empire.
But, uh, somehow they were also fighting to defend Armenia at the
same time...”

And
with that, after a pause at a mysterious ancient graveyard, he
reaches the main west-east highway, and figures it's a good stopping
point. To the south, he gazes off to Mt Ararat, which still
dominates the horizon, even though its not as close as it was a few
days ago....