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Memories Of Hayastan


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This thread was inspired by Anons and Azatik's photos.

 

Memories of you erupt in the sweetness of the luscious strawberries from the little shop on the corner of Abovyan street where I lived. The sweetness of the chocolate ice cream at the cafe outside my window, where the water from the fountain tasted better than juice. Where the the laughter of the kids playing hide and seek and the sounds of the heels against the asphalt sounded better than music.

 

The days where the entire class would get in trouble for skipping the class to go to the park and indulge in freshly baked xachapuris fused with soft and warm cheese. The day that I got punished for disobeying my mother and diving into the backyard pool with tons of other kids from the neighborhood, I am sure that many felt the urge to let go, but the fun I had was worth the hour spent in the corner.

 

The days when my grandmother used to spoil us rotten by taking us to “Detski Mir” (Kid's World) to buy us our desired toy and then going to kino Moskva to watch an American movie. Unlike my mother, Grandma would never cover my eyes when the risque scenes used to appear on the big screen. We used to take a long walk to my Grandmas house where she would prolong our holiday with our favorite Roasted chicken and tea from “Samovar”. After dinner we would engage in a competitive card game and my fortune would be told by her neighbor across the street. Apparently I always had some “bear” in my cup which sometimes meant that some boy would capture my heart and some days that someone has an “achk” (eye) on me. Then we would really break the rules and I would stay up until the morning hours and yes it felt sweet to brake the rules.

 

Sevan was the place where we would have our picnics with 100 friends and family members. Diving into the freezing water of sevan only to return to the captivating smells of khorovats wrapped in moist pieces of lavash. And who can forget the charcoaled potatoes which my mother insisted on cleaning for us, although the point was that one has to eat the skin as well.

 

Memories of window watching where the rest of the neighborhood used to do the same and you would end up waving to each other to celebrate yet another day of meeting each other by our windows. Those long goodbyes in the living room, in the hallway, in the hallway of the building, outside in the backyard and a rain of kisses which left ones cheeks hollow. The memories of tut picking and clothes with stains so saturated that the only choice left was to throw them into bleach and wear them at home, the tongue purple and belly full from the sugary taste of tut.

 

Memories of the fresh fallen snow and the brisk wind of the fall. The memories of the young men squatting on the streets whistling at every skirt passing by. My naughty ways of avoiding my dinner by throwing it out of the window ending up with a victim screaming on top of his lungs with mashed potatoes making their way down his shirt.

 

The memories of the watermelon and cheese on a hot summer afternoon. Singing fountains interchanging the bright colors in May. The sound of a guitar echoing from our smoky living room. The memories of the piano my mother used to play when there was no electricity. The joy of having light and hot water, was a celebration worth popping a bottle of champagne only to have it shut down in an hour. The joy of smelling the mountain air and the shuffling through the garment of golden and orange leaves adorning the pavement of the streets. Memories of you...Hayastan.

Edited by anileve
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Posted Images

Here is another image of Kino Moskva, this you cannot dispute since it has the title on top of the building. :D

 

http://www.andreas-praefcke.de/carthalia/world/images/arm_yerevan_moskva.jpg

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Had my ice cream there before attending my Tennis Practice in the same Park. Anyone remember its name?

 

http://www.armenianpages.com/Armeniapics/WEEKLY/2002/19-summertime%20cafe-0901s.jpg

Edited by anileve
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Lavash! Lavash!!! Tarkhun! Tarkhun!!! For those who remember what that symbolizes. My favorite armenian song usually sang in our backyard.

 

http://www.road-to-armenia.com/pictures/other/armenia/lavash.jpg

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De lav erekhek, uremn ekenk gnank. I must remind you though, what I speak of or remember is lost in my childhood. All of it exists only in my sweet past, nothing will ever be the same, or compare to that which was left behind many years ago.

 

Look at these faces! Is there anything sweeter or more serene than these mrutikner? :)

kids2.JPG

Edited by anileve
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Our abundant tables where most of the jokes were told and songs were sang, where the political conversations became heated and cognac and vodka was flowing.

 

http://www.road-to-armenia.com/pictures/other/armenia/man_table.jpg

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I like this thread. It has all the hallmark of 'memories' all over it.

 

Maybe someday theyll invent teleportation devices like in Star Trek and we can just zip in and out from here to Armenia.

 

 

By the way, it should be noted that I swam in that while wearing nothing but tighty whities.

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Had my ice cream there before attending my Tennis Practice in the same Park. Anyone remember its name?

 

http://www.armenianpages.com/Armeniapics/W...0cafe-0901s.jpg

Paplavok :)

 

http://www.armenianpages.com/ArmeniaPICS/W...lake%200103.jpg

 

 

http://www2.armenians.com/chat/Paplavok.JPG

 

 

----

Pics too big. Changed to link. --Sip

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anileve your beautiful words and imagry just are inexplicable...i seriously sititng here in the middle of the night looking at those pictures and remembering--although i was really young and havent been to most of those places...youre words and imagry just captivated my emotions and wouldnt let go until i shed a tear...for every minute of it that i had taken for granted, and for every second that i spent not being where im supposed to be and having to use these letters to explain me true emotions which are armenian...not american...not whitewashed...not some foreign aspect....but my familiar home...my paradise- armenia...

quite ironic- :( just yeilds such pain inside

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I love Armenia, i hate the politicians.. or lack of...

 

I love viewing pictures of armenia, and listening to old music which is truly beautiful I am going to go to armenia soon.. i cant wait, still have many relatives back there,, and sometimes do feel like "why, why do we have to be here, why cant armenia be normal..so we dont have to live here in this otarutsun... but..eh.. i dont think after spending my life here, since 3 years old, i can go back and live in armenia.

 

bayts mer hayrenikena! yev yerpek piti churanank :)

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Evul jan, I can't tell you how much I thought about this thread last night. SO many happy memories. I have so many GREAT memories of my childhood in Armenia and non of them had an XBOX or PS2 in them. There was no color TV and cartoons all day long, no PC and not even internet to surf on. All my memories are of childhood friends with whom are grew up with, went o school with. Played soccer in dirt field, 7 qar(seven stones), havalah, "lagushka" and I even remember a game called "klass" although don't remember how we played it. In summer times would stay outside till 9, 10, 11 at night blocks away from home and never would a parent worry what would happen to their 7-8 year old kid.

 

I have walked up these satires countless times, and would even go and disturb the young lovers hiding in the bushes making out on Friday and Saturday nights.

http://www.armenianhighland.com/images/illustration261.jpg

 

 

My grandma lives only 2 houses down from Matenadaran, so it was like a second home for me and use to know all the manuscripts in the place.

 

http://www.armenianhighland.com/images/illustration264.jpg

 

Running in the green hills and valleys of Armenia looking for poppies and other wild flowers

http://www.mtnforum.org/resources/library/images/asata01a1.jpg

 

But most of all I miss the people. No where will you find a group of people who are so genuine. People who will basically open up their home to a stranger.

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Gevo, I came to the US when I was 11. and did not return back until 3 years back(about 20 years after leaving the country). the first couple of days were strange. I felt like an outsider. The way I thought, the way I functioned seemed so far away from the way others did, but soon after something changed(don't know what) and it felt like home and when you realize that a person who has known you for only few hours would spend money that they would otherwise save for a treat for the family and when you see strangers invite you to their home and be so genuine about their invitation, and people living in poverty yet they live a happier and less stressful life than you and I, you start to realize what life is all about.

 

It is great to have a nice home and a nice car and go out to eat in nice places without thinking about the cost and buy nice clothes and and and and and... but friends and cousins who were in armenia who are under tremendous stress to earn money to keep the essentials for their families were SOOOOO much happier than I or any of my friends here. They truly work to live and I live to work. that is the difference...

 

Anyways, I am not sure if I conveyed the message that I was trying to convey.

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