Lessons in Water, Haircuts, and Cake

Yesterday, I was in Yerevan. I locked up all of my things (especially electronics) at a local hostel and ventured outside with some friends. It took about a five minute walk before a random teenage boy ran up behind me and dumped a bucket of water over my head. Shortly after, I was being ambushed by small children with squirt guns. Just in case there were any dry parts of me left, I was subsequently pushed into a public fountain where I continued to be dunked and splashed.

This is the glorious and sometimes hated holiday of Vardavar. Vardavar began as a pagan holiday and has morphed into a free-for-all, no one and nothing safe, day long, water war. It felt amazing for the most part as it was burning hot all day, but I started to sense some of the frustration from others when I daringly changed into dry clothes for the bus ride back, wrapped my phone and other electronics in about 20 plastic bags, and shortly after was ambushed by another squirt gun-toting teenager.

I don't have pictures because I knew my chances of keeping electronics dry were slim, but here's a picture from an Armenian news source that feels very representative of my experience. Feel free to look up Vardavar for more. It's as cool and maybe horrifying as it sounds.

When I got back to my site, my adult English Club was happy to see me. The meeting started at 6:30, but at 6:45, some members were still trickling in. We had 4 layer chocolate homemade cake at club because it was one of the student's birthdays over the weekend. I am so used to hearing, "You have to eat the cake. I made it, and it's tasty. Eat." Sometimes we have cake for their spouses' or children's or cousins' or acquaintances' birthdays too. I still can't figure out how I'm losing weight.

After club, it was a group effort to describe the haircut I had gotten over the weekend in English. One student started, "It's very special and very beautiful." A second student added, "It is interesting and nice." The first chimed in again, "It is not standard and interesting and beautiful." A third student contributed, "We like it a lot. We have not seen before." I congratulated the third student on using the present perfect tense correctly. That had been our lesson for the day.

My "not standard" haircut seemed pretty basic to me. I just guessed they weren't used to women with short hair and moved on with the conversation.

I went home and hugged my host family. "Where were you? Did you pass your time well? Our relatives came and we wished you were here. You got a haircut. Was Yerevan nice? It was probably too hot. Are you okay?" The flurry of questions and comments without allowing time for responses was their way of communicating love. The most loving statement for me came from Inga. After the gamut of questions and some mandatory eating came her simple statement of, "You are probably tired. You can have a rest." Her understanding the exhaustion I feel after a full day of being social and traveling is the most loving thing I can imagine.

Most people are honest here. They say exactly what they think of your haircut and if you missed some guests they wanted you to meet. They splash grandmas and foreigners and people carrying phones alike because Vardavar has always meant that everyone gets wet. They tell you when they think you need to eat and when you should just go to bed. My counterpart told me during my first week at site that Armenians weren't complicated people because they always said exactly what they were thinking and there wasn't ever any more to it. I'm still not sure I agree with that, but I'm definitely beginning to understand what she meant by it.

I only had a simple post for you all this time.

Լավ մնացեք։ (Stay well.)

Էմիլի