I thought you all might enjoy this story:
It began with keys. I lost the key to my apartment through a hole in my pants pocket and had to go to the next door neighbor to retrieve the spare she keeps. I wanted to make several copies so I can leave a key with one of the volunteers and if possible, some safe place outside my apartment so if another one disappears, I will be able to get inside.
Gyumri is the 2nd largest city in the country, with lots of apartments and houses, all of which have doors and locks so I assumed I could find someone who could make keys here. So off I went. The main square is supposed to have a key place. I went to the photo shop in the square and asked in my very bad Armenian where I could get a key made. One of the clerks walked me to the door and pointed up the street but said something followed by "pak eh" which means closed. Apparantly that shop has been closed for awhile. I asked if he knew "oorish khanut" (another store) where I could get a key made. He said "bazaar" near the avtokayan (bus station). So I trek down there. The temps are in the teens during this adventure so by trek I really mean trek.
I visited several of the hardware (sort of) stores near the avtokayan and asked about keys. Those that understood me would say ch'ka (not here) and point me in another direction. After about 4 of these conversations, I went to see my language teacher whose shop is close by. She said there is not place that makes keys in Gyumri, I will have to go to
After my meetings in
The woman looked to be middle-aged, dressed somewhat shabbily and with no English whatsoever. After we walk a block or so she turned down another street and once again, beckons. She keeps walking. Turns another corner. Keeps walking. I discover her name (ahsana) and tell her mine but don't really have any more conversation in my vocabulary. We keep walking. I remember the word for "far" and ask how far. She says very close and keeps walking. We walk for about 20 minutes, in an area completely unfamiliar to me and quite far away for the area to which I had initially been directed. I become uneasy. We keep walking. Finally, I spot a kisok with a big key above it. At last. The kiosk was empty and she goes to a nearby store, comes back and says 10 minutes. I tell her thank you for taking me and assume she will leave. No. She stays and proceeds to show me pics of her family and tell me things I don't understand. I tell her what I can about my family and why I'm in the country. The key man finally shows up, looks at the key and says 25 minutes (to make 4 keys). I sigh, agree and tell her thank you once more, assuming that now, she will leave. No. She insists I come with her again. I say no thank you but that is not accepted. Since she has gone out of her way to help me, I feel like I must go.
We cross the street, weave through an alley and come to a tall apartment building. We ascend several floors in an rusty, halting elevator to an apartment which apparently belongs to a friend of one of her friends. At least that is what I can gather from what she says. While they clearly were not expecting her or me, in typical Armenian fashion, they insist I sit down and begin preparing food even though I say several times no thank you, I have eaten already. I take a cup of tea to be polite and several people gather around the kitchen table. One young woman speaks a little English (she says she is an English tutor but doesn't seems to have had contact with native speakers as she has a hard time understanding me or speaking English herself). The other speak among themselves in Armenian and occasionally ask me a question which I occasionally understand. I give them a Peace Corps business card in Armenian. The food sits on the table untouched by all of us. Ahsana puts food on my plate (another Armenian habit) like I am a child. I don't know whether they are waiting for me to eat something before they eat something – custom? Courtesy? The result is no one gets fed.
After about 30 awkward minutes, I say I have to leave, I have a friend waiting. Despite my protestations, Ahsana accompanies me back to the key vendor and waits for me to pay, then takes me to the corner where we get a taxi.
While it is an example of the graciousness of the Armenians for this stranger to go out of her way to help me, I felt extremely awkward and helpless during the entire process. It is so frustrating to have such limited language ability. I am determined to improve this situation. The key hunt would have been considerably shorter and may even have ended in Gyumri (I can't believe there is no place to get a key made here) if I were more facile with my Armenian. Even if I can come up with the right words, I don't understand the responses I receive.
On another subject, this last weekend was most enjoyable. I had 8 people for dinner on Satuday night – at the request of one of the volunteers from Charlotte, who was missing down home food, I made fried chicken, with rice, gravy and cole slaw. The guests were so happy, they washed dishes. Nine people in the apartment is quite cozy, but not cramped. At least everyone had a seat, tho not necessarily at the dining room table.
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