I've moved into an interesting neighborhood. It's a lot safer than the areas I'm accustomed to inhabiting. There are no bars on the windows, and I'm the only person who still puts a security bar on his steering wheel at night. It's also very Armenian.
I have no judgments to make on Armenia or its culture, because I have never been exposed to it until now, so I have no idea what to make of it. What I have gathered from recent interactions is that it is a proud and friendly culture, notwithstanding the hell it's been through. There is one couple in particular, however, that have left me scrambling to sort out the underlying meanings of their actions, sort of how I imagine a lot of people scramble to sort out the underlying meanings of my own...
My first introduction to this couple came as a knock at my door around 8:00 at night. They're an amiable, older couple, so I wasn't immediately scared that I was about to be shot to death in my doorway (remember, this area is safer than I'm used to). The moment I opened the door, the first thing they asked me was, "Are you Armenian?" There was no "Hi, we're your neighbors, the Jonesians," or "Welcome to the complex," so all I could really say was, "No, but I'm not a bad guy. I promise." They shrugged and introduced themselves, saying in very broken English that they used to be friends with the woman who lived in the apartment before me. There was a certain humble dignity to them that I admired, but there wasn't much time to do so before they excused themselves for the night and left me thoroughly puzzled.
Yesterday, the old man walked past me while I was futzing about in my pseudo garden. We exchanged nods, and I went back to what I was doing. Two minutes later, he set three kitchen knives on the ground in front of me. I didn't even hear him coming; suddenly, there were three knives on the ground by my hand. He smiled and nodded, so I suppose he meant well by it. Still, I wasn't sure quite how to respond. Maybe this is how people feel when I give them random gifts or favors, but I'd never thought of depositing knives in front of people working in their gardens.
Now, of course, there is the question of how to respond. It would be courteous to give them something back, but I don't quite have utensils to spare. I'm sure there are all sorts of cultural do's and don't's to gift giving with Armenian folks, but I have to wonder whether the internet is 100% effective at spelling them out. I suppose I could bake them some paklava, but I have no idea if that would be appropriate or not, especially if I end up burning it. Who knows? Maybe food will transcend the cultural-linguistic boundaries. I could take pictures of the process in which I make the pastries with their knives. Then again, they might misinterpret my meaning.
I have no judgments to make on Armenia or its culture, because I have never been exposed to it until now, so I have no idea what to make of it. What I have gathered from recent interactions is that it is a proud and friendly culture, notwithstanding the hell it's been through. There is one couple in particular, however, that have left me scrambling to sort out the underlying meanings of their actions, sort of how I imagine a lot of people scramble to sort out the underlying meanings of my own...
My first introduction to this couple came as a knock at my door around 8:00 at night. They're an amiable, older couple, so I wasn't immediately scared that I was about to be shot to death in my doorway (remember, this area is safer than I'm used to). The moment I opened the door, the first thing they asked me was, "Are you Armenian?" There was no "Hi, we're your neighbors, the Jonesians," or "Welcome to the complex," so all I could really say was, "No, but I'm not a bad guy. I promise." They shrugged and introduced themselves, saying in very broken English that they used to be friends with the woman who lived in the apartment before me. There was a certain humble dignity to them that I admired, but there wasn't much time to do so before they excused themselves for the night and left me thoroughly puzzled.
Yesterday, the old man walked past me while I was futzing about in my pseudo garden. We exchanged nods, and I went back to what I was doing. Two minutes later, he set three kitchen knives on the ground in front of me. I didn't even hear him coming; suddenly, there were three knives on the ground by my hand. He smiled and nodded, so I suppose he meant well by it. Still, I wasn't sure quite how to respond. Maybe this is how people feel when I give them random gifts or favors, but I'd never thought of depositing knives in front of people working in their gardens.
Now, of course, there is the question of how to respond. It would be courteous to give them something back, but I don't quite have utensils to spare. I'm sure there are all sorts of cultural do's and don't's to gift giving with Armenian folks, but I have to wonder whether the internet is 100% effective at spelling them out. I suppose I could bake them some paklava, but I have no idea if that would be appropriate or not, especially if I end up burning it. Who knows? Maybe food will transcend the cultural-linguistic boundaries. I could take pictures of the process in which I make the pastries with their knives. Then again, they might misinterpret my meaning.
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