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Glendale News Press, CA
Sept 3 2014
Intersections: Strangers don't stay strangers in Armenia
By Liana Aghajanian
September 3, 2014 | 1:29 p.m.
It's incredibly easy to meet people in Armenia. I suspect the same
goes for a lot of countries in the world, where one minute you're a
stranger and the next you're part of the extended family, being
force-fed homemade goods and liquored up before exchanging phone
numbers and trying to figure out how you're going to escape before
someone makes you stay for the night.
You can't attempt to speak to someone here -- as a member of the
Diaspora, a foreigner, a journalist -- without being invited into homes
and at least sharing a cup of thick, muddy Armenian coffee while
exchanging stories about your lives. "What's America like?" "Is life
there really better" you often hear.
And the more you get asked, the longer the words get stuck in your
thoughts, like half-dry cement clogging up your esophagus.
"Yes, it's good and it's bad, like every other country." "It's hard,
it's expensive, but also amazing in many ways," you say, as you think
about all the things you miss about "home," whatever that means these
days.
These questions are meaningless at a time when the entire world feels
like it's upside down. The common misconception that it's better out
"there" is just that, a misconception. It's more about who you are,
what you want out of life and what you're willing to compromise with,
mostly.
Like many other children from immigrant families, I grew up in the
United States because of circumstance, because war uprooted my family
to another country -- and no matter how much I miss L.A., the reason I
keep leaving is because I feel incomplete while I'm there.
Sometimes, it feels like I'm trying to find what was ripped away and
diluted because of these circumstances. Most of the time, I end up
feeling even more confused and frustrated than before.
One thing that's harder in the United States is meeting people. In
major cities at least, individuality takes precedence over community.
No "Hello, how are yous" ever lead to an almost instantaneous dinner
invitation. You'll rarely ask directions from a stranger and end up
having them take you all the way where you need to go just so they
make sure you're OK.
You can barely stand in the same supermarket aisle with a parentless
child before beginning to feel uncomfortable and running through
scenarios in your head in which you are accused of some heinous,
unthinkable crime.
In Armenia, you -- a complete stranger -- get nonchalantly get handed
babies in buses as if their mothers are passing an oversized piece of
bread to you. When you drink too much, your hosts call you several
times to make sure you are doing well, given your low tolerance levels
for, ahem, vodka.
I'm endlessly searching for that very basic human need and connection
in Los Angeles. I want to talk to people on that level, no ulterior
motives and no apprehension. I want to find the stories and the people
in Glendale that always seem to remain beneath the shiny surface, the
ones you have to keep digging endlessly to get at.
Half of that is on me, after all, if I'm the one pursuing this line of
work, I must be the one that's putting in the time. But the other half
is with the people I end up encountering. So do me a favor, will you
Glendale? I'm coming back to town soon and I'd like you to tell me a
story that needs to be told. Tell me a story that no one else has
heard, that you just can't keep in anymore. Tell me an issue that's
going on in your ethnic community, your street, your school, that is
underreported, introduce me to someone who has an amazing life story,
tell me the things you think deserve to be written about over coffee --
or even dinner.
Ask me questions. Let me ask you some, too. At the very least, it will
be a conversation, a connection, an intersection, a way to form bonds
with the people we live so close to, but often feel so estranged from.
--
LIANA AGHAJANIAN is a Los Angeles-based journalist whose work has
appeared in L.A. Weekly, Paste magazine, New America Media, Eurasianet
and The Atlantic.
http://www.glendalenewspress.com/tn-gnp-me-intersections-strangers-dont-stay-strangers-in-armenia-20140903,0,5188357.story
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
Sept 3 2014
Intersections: Strangers don't stay strangers in Armenia
By Liana Aghajanian
September 3, 2014 | 1:29 p.m.
It's incredibly easy to meet people in Armenia. I suspect the same
goes for a lot of countries in the world, where one minute you're a
stranger and the next you're part of the extended family, being
force-fed homemade goods and liquored up before exchanging phone
numbers and trying to figure out how you're going to escape before
someone makes you stay for the night.
You can't attempt to speak to someone here -- as a member of the
Diaspora, a foreigner, a journalist -- without being invited into homes
and at least sharing a cup of thick, muddy Armenian coffee while
exchanging stories about your lives. "What's America like?" "Is life
there really better" you often hear.
And the more you get asked, the longer the words get stuck in your
thoughts, like half-dry cement clogging up your esophagus.
"Yes, it's good and it's bad, like every other country." "It's hard,
it's expensive, but also amazing in many ways," you say, as you think
about all the things you miss about "home," whatever that means these
days.
These questions are meaningless at a time when the entire world feels
like it's upside down. The common misconception that it's better out
"there" is just that, a misconception. It's more about who you are,
what you want out of life and what you're willing to compromise with,
mostly.
Like many other children from immigrant families, I grew up in the
United States because of circumstance, because war uprooted my family
to another country -- and no matter how much I miss L.A., the reason I
keep leaving is because I feel incomplete while I'm there.
Sometimes, it feels like I'm trying to find what was ripped away and
diluted because of these circumstances. Most of the time, I end up
feeling even more confused and frustrated than before.
One thing that's harder in the United States is meeting people. In
major cities at least, individuality takes precedence over community.
No "Hello, how are yous" ever lead to an almost instantaneous dinner
invitation. You'll rarely ask directions from a stranger and end up
having them take you all the way where you need to go just so they
make sure you're OK.
You can barely stand in the same supermarket aisle with a parentless
child before beginning to feel uncomfortable and running through
scenarios in your head in which you are accused of some heinous,
unthinkable crime.
In Armenia, you -- a complete stranger -- get nonchalantly get handed
babies in buses as if their mothers are passing an oversized piece of
bread to you. When you drink too much, your hosts call you several
times to make sure you are doing well, given your low tolerance levels
for, ahem, vodka.
I'm endlessly searching for that very basic human need and connection
in Los Angeles. I want to talk to people on that level, no ulterior
motives and no apprehension. I want to find the stories and the people
in Glendale that always seem to remain beneath the shiny surface, the
ones you have to keep digging endlessly to get at.
Half of that is on me, after all, if I'm the one pursuing this line of
work, I must be the one that's putting in the time. But the other half
is with the people I end up encountering. So do me a favor, will you
Glendale? I'm coming back to town soon and I'd like you to tell me a
story that needs to be told. Tell me a story that no one else has
heard, that you just can't keep in anymore. Tell me an issue that's
going on in your ethnic community, your street, your school, that is
underreported, introduce me to someone who has an amazing life story,
tell me the things you think deserve to be written about over coffee --
or even dinner.
Ask me questions. Let me ask you some, too. At the very least, it will
be a conversation, a connection, an intersection, a way to form bonds
with the people we live so close to, but often feel so estranged from.
--
LIANA AGHAJANIAN is a Los Angeles-based journalist whose work has
appeared in L.A. Weekly, Paste magazine, New America Media, Eurasianet
and The Atlantic.
http://www.glendalenewspress.com/tn-gnp-me-intersections-strangers-dont-stay-strangers-in-armenia-20140903,0,5188357.story
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress