London through New Eyes

In the past 30 years, I have been lucky enough to spend time in London on at least six occasions. I have my favorite neighborhoods and stores, places to eat, The first time I went it was 1980. My travel partner was my brave, bright-eyed eight years old daughter Erin. And we were going to London on our way to even bigger adventures in India. 

We each read our Frommer's Guide and came up with ideas and set about organizing them for the time we were there. We planned a trip that combined the big tourists sights and shaped a few other experiences to make them more interesting to her. Shopping and souvenirs and post cards home were all important. In fact, I saw the Peter Jones Store on Sloane Square this week where Erin bought herself a very special white china cat. No trip to London now will ever top it because we were both ingenues in the City. Thus began many international adventures together.

This trip came very close to that first one because I was with my sister--a veteran of international travel  who had somehow bypassed London. So, for her I was the one who could guide her and recommend various things on a first visit. We had a long list of museums and sites that were of interest, but she also wanted to be a tourist and see the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace, the Crown Jewels at the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, do a show or two, ride the Tube. Her obvious excitement rubbed off on me. We were again not-so-ingenue, but excited to be in the City.

I told her that back in 1980 I had read something along the line of "For the American, a visit to Britain is more one of recognition than discovery." And indeed, with Denise's extensive acquaintance with English literature there was no reason to think it would be different for her. 

Also for American girls born during and just after the World War II we were remarkably well-versed in the lives of the Royals. Thanks to what we would today call "coffee table" books sent by British cousins, we had seen Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret wear coronets to official functions, clad in matching dresses. The books served as a sort of precursor to the People Magazine coverage of the Royals today. My favorite parts were about the girls growing up. It wasn't hard to imagine myself and Denise in their places.

So when we awaited the arrival of new Guard troops at Buckingham Palace, we knew that the flag flying meant the Queen was in residence, we noticed the front balcony, site of so many photos we had in our books and of joyous and very sad occasions since. We recognized the contours of St. James Park and sat there reveling in the idea we were there today. We loved hearing English spoken in the manner of our uneducated immigrant grandparents, complete with grammatical errors and irregular pronunciations (med-sin for medicine; symmetry for cemetery; me for my, as in "Let me just get me glasses). Denise captured our experience thus: "It feels like a warm bath."

If I had to predict, I would say we'll go back, if only for high tea..

Smile Diplomacy

Transitioning to home through London after Armenia this past week brought into sharp contrast the ways ordinary people in each country interact with strangers. Maybe it was the 2012 Olympics, but I suspect a more lasting social norm is at work in London that makes me feel quite welcome, that all problems can be solved. In fact, I suspect that perhaps for the Games, Londoners must have been required to take customer services courses if they were going to have a lot of public contact. Further, they all earned HIGH HONORS.

Imagine the British Tourism marketing guys persuading everyone in the courses that regardless of specific assignments, they, from the PM and the MPs down to the people who drive cabs and others who greet tourists at national sites and at all the eateries in between -- have the power to shape first and foremost the image of Britain that visitor will leave with. Brits pulling together one more time!

Seriously, though, smiles abound on a simple walk down the street , through a garden, or an experience with one of the points of interest, such as the Churchill War Rooms. If you stand to collect your wits in a Tube station, someone approaches you and asks if you need help. And if you are prone to smile at strangers wherever you are, you are going to feel like YOU HAVE FINALLY FOUND YOUR TRIBE because these folks are smiling back at you.

This behavior on the parts of the Brits may have been very noticeable regardless of where we had come from. But with respect to Armenia there was a marked contrast in the numbers of times eye contact was established (seldom in Armenia, almost always in London), or the number of people who simply smiled at the end of a business transaction (when not even a spoken thank you was present) or returned one of your smiles on the street.

Americans and others often poke fun at the understated polite Brit who apologizes for being a bit of a bother when he is in immediate need of major help--help perhaps to stop bleeding that started when he was sideswiped and knocked to the pavement by a now long-gone bike rider. When it comes to more normal exchanges--in the news shop, at the grocer's, the Tube ticket office, the copper who suggested we move outside the barrier for the final part of the changing of the Guard show so that no one would be standing in front of us, even booking a cab or retrieved a lost cell phone...EVERYONE we ran into was more than responsive. They responded with a smile and stayed engaged until they could feel certain that the issue got sorted out to everyone's desire. Everyone I ran into was not only polite but focused on helping me get my problem solved. There were actually helpful sales associates in a high-end women's clothing store who advised on sizes and checked inventories. From the dressing room I was able to push a buzzer and Ms Helpful showed up and went after other sizes, etc. (When did you see the last one of those in a large US store?)

I have no clue what this means and no desire to study it in depth. I just want to acknowledge the observed difference and how I responded. I already knew the Brits were my people, but now I would really love to take that attitude and spread my smile everywhere I go. Imagine...what might happen?

Cheerio for Now

Leaving Armenia turns out to be difficult, an unexpected turn of events for me. In less than three months I have connected with so many people (who eventually reveal themselves to be  connected to one another--believe me even this big city is a small town!). These points of contact are both personal and professional and sometimes both. I know I have made good use of my time here to learn what I could about this country I had never thought to visit, but even at my good-bye party I was gathering more points of connection, people I should talk with "next time."

I leave with homework to do. The social workers need financial help to get a website and newsletter going out to the members of their growing organization. These are just two of the vehicles by which they can promote the visibility of professional social work and demonstrate the value of practicing within a Code of Ethics. And they need consultations about standards of practice and training in specialty areas, such as violence against women. I am going to be seeking resources for these efforts.

I also leave with the faces and laughter of friends etched in my memory. It seems I just got here and barely know the talented and interesting women of IWAY. I want to hear more of their stories and, of course, I hope to keep in touch. (Anni: you MUST learn to use email!).

Centerpiece from the flower lady on our street

Some of them came to say goodbye, bearing marvelous samples of Armenian appetizers and desserts. We had real Syrian Armenian falafel donuts and hummous (from a place very close to our apartment that we did not know about!), sweets from Lebanon made with honey, pine nuts and semolina, meat-filled blini, a tart of basil and cheese, pastries and cakes, and more. They brought pomegranate wine and special red wine from Areni. Of course there was enough food for the whole apartment building, so some went home with a breakfast of leftovers of their choosing (kind of like the end of a Gourmands meal in Montpelier).

Killer pickled green tomatoes and cauliflower, roasted red peppers, and roasted eggplant with pomegranate from Sophia, who couldn't be with us in person

Dried apricots stuffed with marscapone and topped with pistachios in a wine syrup

Arman, Siranush, Aino(back), Anni, Ashken & Karine

With special consultation by Skype from Stro, I managed to make my first party mix for my iPod and shuffled the songs, Then I got to play it on my little portable/travel speakers bought just for this trip. See that small black thing on top of the castle cupboard?

Bar in the breakfast room

Denise and I have been talking about having a party since we got here. Our apartment just begs to be Party Central. It is big and has a good flow to it. 

We enjoyed the company of about 15 and the place could have easily accommodated another 20. I think we definitely paid back the neighbor who had a total blowout party the week we got here (unless hers was a good-bye party also).

In one of the many ways Denise and I get along, we both wanted to wake up to a clean apartment, so we did all the clean up when the guests left and woke up to a fresh and tidy place!

 

Armine, Beth (who is off to Macedonia), Denise, and Hasmik

L to R first row: Harout, Aino, Arpi, and Armine/Row 2: Rilla, Anna, Beth, Denise. Photo credit to Haik Tumanyan!

 

We had a good time--great food, wonderful conversation, and lots of laughs and photos. I will miss all of you and really do hope that I can manage the "next time." So I will just say "Cheerio for now" instead of goodbye.

Party detritus piled up by the door for morning disposal

Nune Tumanyan - Sculptor Extraordinaire

Nune Tumanyan, Armenian sculptor

Nune Tumanyan knew she wanted to be a sculptor at a very early age but her parents made her take violin lessons instead, hoping to steer her artistic talents elsewhere. That parental ploy failed. Several IWAY Walking Tour aficionados visited her studio this past week by arrangement of Armine Tumanyan (no relation).What a wonderful welcome Nune and her husband gave us--right down to brandy and sweets. He is also a sculptor and jewelry designer, so it was like getting a two-fer.

Nune works principally in bronze and her work often features the female form and women's themes. When asked why she chooses to express herself in this way she explained that as a woman she feels she knows a woman's sensitivities and soul...the sculptor's version of "write what you know." Even within this, the breadth of her subjects is arresting.

Among the arts, sculpture usually does not speak to me. I seldom respond to it as I do to music or painting. So when I first visited Nune's website in advance of our visit, her pieces surprised me and drew me in. Her "Runway Collection" stunned me. Super slim models pose with indescribable grace, one leaning back to show off a long formal dress, another striding in a long coat. For about $50,000 I could  look at the the whole collection every day, perhaps imagining life as a model or at least with something akin to to a model's body.

Model in ball gown with tulle trim

Runway Collection

Forbidden Fruit

Among many other pieces on display, two stood out for me.  "Forbidden Fruit" is a whimsical take on the temptation in the Garden of Eden. A giant apple feeds the tiny men and women crawling all over it.

The Way

"The Way" represents the burdens of life. A woman walks carrying rocks hanging from her arms along a narrow path. Nune commented that though we have burdens to carry we go on, walking the road of life.

 

To see more of her work, Nune invites you to visit her Facebook page. Many of her works are available for purchase.

https://www.facebook.com/nune.tumanyan

Or, you can visit me in Vermont and see her autographed catalog, a gift she offered to each visitor.

Alas, this walking tour was the final one for the year. Next spring IWAYers can look forward to more of Armine Tumanyan's special walks to places and people in Yerevan who are off the beaten path. Thank you, Armine, for an enlightening and fun series of events.

Restaurant Kitchen Confidential Redux

Covering my already very short hair!

Chef Marmulyan at Ararat Hall (see post from 9/24/12) actually let us do it again! Can you imagine?

Our chef explaining a point of nutrition

Recently another dozen members of IWAY descended on the kitchen of Ararat Hall with the idea of preparing a meal we would all share with loved ones. This time our focus was a fish dish called Ahktamar (ock-tah-mar), Denise and I had enjoyed this dish on a visit to the restaurant with friends Gayane and Lilit. We wanted to learn how to make this fish stew/casserole. Chef Sedrak Mamulyan himself was otherwise occupied upstairs with his TV show, which looked a little like Julia Child's TV kitchen set. So he again left us in the very capable hands of his number two man.

Just the right pan at the ready

Denise picks up the knife, Armine asks a question

This time we started by making two very tasty salads--one featuring large mushrooms with a plum dressing and the other a more traditional eggplant salad--both to die for, of course.

Mushroom salad with plum dressing

We also made some stuffed mushrooms in a very interesting way. First we peeled and then roasted very large mushrooms with only butter in their cavities. Once roasted, we then filled them with sauteed chopped mushroom stems and herbs, topped with cheese, just until the cheese melted.

Walnut and quince brandy for us!

Early on, instead of the fruit juice we had last time, we enjoyed a glass of walnut and quince brandy. If the intention was to chill us out, I think the strategy may have backfired. The decibel level of conversation definitely went up! I want to say it was yummy!

Lovely eggplant salad ready to serve

Our next hands-on project was to make the "meatballs" for a rich soup. For this we used a pureed raw beef I had seen in stores but had no clue what it was or what it was for! We mixed it with bulghur an made small-small-small balls to put in the simmering soup. And should you be tempted to make your meatballs larger, you will see the consequences when the balls swell with the cooked bulghur in the soup.

Pureed raw beef, beef, lardons, tomatoes, bulghur, herbs

Meatballs for soup from pureed raw beef and bulghur

Ahktamar--the whole reason for going!

After that "we" (meaning the chef) tackled the piece de resistance, ahktamar or fish stew. Made with a meaty version of trout, this stew is utterly delicious.In the end we all sat down to a wonderful dinner--16 of us in all--again, so happy to see firsthand how these dishes are made. And for me to have actual useful notes about how to make akhtamar for our Gourmands group once I get home in Vermont!

Herbs and spices at the ready

Here are more views of this very busy kitchen in Yerevan's best Armenian restaurant!

Thanks again to Chef Marmulyan and especially to our friend, Armine Tumanyan for  her efforts to make these unique experiences available to us!

Garlic at the ready

Gas stove is well loved!

Kitchen minion at his task of slicing bread for the tables

Keep a pot of water boiling at all times

The only woman in a hat!

A hierarchy of sorts in the hats

Election Results from Far Far Away

After shamelessly wrangling an invitation to the U.S. Embassy - Yerevan for an Election Results party on Wednesday morning, between this and that I decided I wanted to stay in my cozy robe and drink coffee while the 2012 Presidential Election results came in. We rose early and tuned in to CNN just as the first of the polls in the east were closing. Either we were going to die the death of a thousand cuts or rejoice at the results.

In a call that could have been made two years ago, CNN announced that Vermont had gone for Obama with our usual big numbers. Right on the heels of that foregone conclusion, Dixville Notch, NH's split vote augured well for the eventual outcome in the state that is proud to "Live free or die!"

Liza votes in Massachusetts!

Happily our American pals here and at home were all awake and emailing and FB messaging. Friends and family were posting pictures of the little ones helping out at the polls, learning how to be citizens. It was almost like going to a party except I didn't even have to pretend to be presentable. Plus I could be as partisan as I wanted to be when I talked back to and made fun of the CNN jabbermouths and their so-so-so-scientific polls. By the way, why do they YELL all the time?

The long lines of determined voters, especially in Florida, and the strong commitment to vote we saw in state after state buoyed me after way too much anxiety about whether the turnout would be big enough. I felt almost envious I couldn't be there in person, another public witness to this right and responsibility.

City Hall Montpelier where we all vote!

Although I had tried to persuade my parents to vote early in the Montpelier City Clerk's Office, as Greatest Generation types they wanted to do it in person on the day. They reported lines, but also more than one offer from a young person to let them cut in line so they would not have to wait so long. Warmed my heart once again about the civic spirit in Montpelier.

But, of course, the most exhilarating part of the morning was seeing the Chicago crowds dancing to Aretha's "Respect", topped by the First Family coming out onto the stage to the tune of "Signed, Sealed, Delivered...I'm Yours." The thought occurred to me that most of the young people there had no knowledge of the once-iconic song of celebration for a Democratic victory, but I do. Happy day are here again. We have work to do! How lucky is that?