Dear Reader,
This is a copy of an email that I wrote to my friends (some of whom were Armenian, some of whom were not) while I was in Armenia. I hope that it serves as an interesting piece to read because it was written in the middle of my stay in Armenia and offers, I hope, a subjective view into what it is like to visit the region. This particular email was written after I went to Karabakh with Birthright Armenia, by far the most intense experience of the trip. Everything I say in this email comes from my own biases and opinions and those opinions are the result of a life growing up in Los Angeles. I hope you enjoy reading it and that it proves interesting to you, and that you find it interesting enough to want to visit Armenia and Karabakh yourselves.

Dear Friends,
I went to the Karabakh region this weekend and this will undoubtedly be the highlight of my trip to Armenia. All in all, we went to Shushi, Stepanagerd, Vank village (probably the most livable and best organized village in all of Armenia) and Gandzasar (the monastery by Vank village). We also went to Tatev Monastery on our way to Karabakh located in the region of Zangezur (an important strip of land connecting Armenia with Iran. Someone once said that without Zangezur, Armenia would cease to exist as a nation. This is true because Iran is the best neighbor, economically speaking, Armenia has right now. Considering the blockades imposed by Azerbaijan and Turkey, Zangezur's importance is that much more crucial). Everyone says Tatev is amazing (and it is), but Gandzasar is much more impressive, not because of its architecture, but because of the view around it. Tatev's view is amazing, but Gandzasar's is much more impressive simply because Karabakh's landscape is so much more beautiful than any other natural setting in Armenia. Dilijan is nice, but Karabakh is breathtaking.

Stepanagerd is the capital of Karabakh and is by far the best organized and livable city in all of Armenia. It is very new (completely rebuilt after the war), very well laid out, peaceful, good air. The only thing is that its economy (although decent) is nowhere near as booming as Yerevan's. If you could have a mobile business and wanted to live in Armenia, Stepanagerd would be the place to go in my opinion. The air is very fresh and the living conditions are pretty much on par with western standards. A wonderful place indeed.

As I said, Vank village is probably the best village in all of Armenia. It has a decent economy with a good number of shops and good housing conditions. But what makes it great is the fact that a Karabakh native of that village who became wealthy due to business ventures in Moscow and Boston has built a hotel/resort in that town, and it is beautiful. What's more, the services the hotel has to offer are free to all natives of Vank village. This man has single handedly improves the lives and living conditions of hundreds of people, and he continues to build there. Once Karabakh becomes a stable region, I have no doubt that people will opt to stay in Vank as opposed to Stepanagerd when vacationing in Karabakh. A true inspiration of how much good a wealthy person can do with his/her money, if it is spent wisely as to have lasting effects. At now onto my favorite place in all of Armenia, the city of Shushi.

Shushi is in absolute ruin. I couldn't believe it when I heard that it used to be worse. It looks like the war ended about a year ago when you look at the place. A bit of background. Shushi is a city built on a mountaintop right above Stepanagerd, and it was one of the most important strategic points during the war. If you could control Shushi (a major city), you would automatically control Stepanagerd (the capital). In 1992, the Armenians liberated the town but until liberation it went through severe damage. It is literally like walking through a war zone walking through Shushi, but there is no anxiety brought upon by war but rather a sense of peace and tranquility. The natural surroundings have more or less blended with the ruins and the buildings to give the city a unique feel. There were only about 2-3 paved roads in the whole city (near the main cathedral of the city) and everything else was rocky terrain. Everyone lived in abject poverty, but were the most welcoming and loving folks one could ever meet. Despite the fact that the city was all but destroyed, I love Shushi so much more than any other place I've been in Armenia. One could tell by the ruins that it was one of the most breathtaking cities in all of Armenia before the war. The people were great, and the views were incredible.

A few words on poverty in Shushi. To be poor in a poor city is a lot harder than being poor in a rich city like Yerevan (but not as psychologically damaging because there is a feeling of equality). Life was very hard for the natives, and unlike most people in Yerevan they do not have relatives sending money to them from abroad (although they need it more than people in Yerevan). I still don't know how to fully comprehend and appreciate my experience in Shushi. I felt a sense of relief and pride that the city was in the hands of Armenians who no longer had to face persecution under Azeri rule, but at the same time felt completely humbled when interacting with the people there. Humbled is not a strong enough word, I felt an immense amount of guilt (the source of which I can't quite place) and a feeling of uselessness and nothingness not only with respect to myself, but with regard to what I could (or rather, all the things I could not do) for the people there. The host family which whom I stayed was incredible. The father had fought in the war, but was not a hardened man. He was kind and fun loving. Many people were kind and fun loving in Karabakh, but the sad thing is there were few opportunities for the inhabitants to enjoy their lives there because of their living conditions. In any case, my guest mom was a lovely woman with a very thick Karabakh dialect, which I had difficulty understanding (but I loved to hear her speak because the dialect is so charming).

After the first night, I told my roommates that we should leave some money with the family before we leave as a way of showing thanks for their hospitality (despite the fact that they were getting paid to keep us there). One can never give enough to those in need, and this was no exception. I say this because on the following night there was a party we threw at someone’s house. Everyone in the neighborhood who heard the music came and we had a wonderful time. At the end of the evening, my guest father (with whom I developed a strong bond) pulled aside and told me, with shame in his voice and posture, that his son needed an operation and the family needed money. Now, a child needing an operation is a possibly spurious reason to ask for money and it might well have been a lie. But let me tell you, these people are very proud and necessity makes them ask for money in a way so they can preserve some dignity. The truth is that it makes no difference whether or not he was telling the truth. The fact of the matter is that they needed money. I cut him off and told him the guys and I had already decided to leave a gift of gratitude the night before. He shook his head, still hanging, and said thank you. I felt like an absolute waste of space on many levels for many reasons. This man fought in a war, and he should not have been humble before me. But there he stood. I had only brought so much money with me, and felt horrible that I could not leave more. And no matter how much money anyone left, it would do nothing to change life in Shushi. I was on the brink of tears and vomiting the following morning from a sense of shame, guilt and love for everyone and everything there. Why guilt when I had nothing to do with how they lived? Because the word "privileged" does little to describe the life I have had and the sacrifices I have had to make in comparison to these people. I was really depressed when I didn't get into grad school last year. What a trivial and ridiculous reason to be depressed when compared to war veterans (I think that all the inhabitants were veterans of the war, by the way, because they all had to endure the bombing of Shushi) who have no stable income, and, more important, no sense of self-worth, nor self-reliance, nor tangible means (economically or spiritually) by which to pick themselves up after the war. And yet I looked at their lives, their city and paradoxically felt envious of what they had. In my first email I mentioned how the amenities of America seemed superfluous after living in Yerevan; I increase that sentiment tenfold after seeing Shushi. Was it the sentimentality of the tourist, the awe inspiring natural surroundings, the completely unique and awe inspiring look of a war ravaged city that filled me with envy? What immature, silly things for which to be filled with envy! I do not know. I envied the people of Shushi, and they envied me. And as I go over the list of possible reasons I wanted to stay in Shushi, I understand how stupid and ephemeral they are, and yet I feel them nonetheless. I know I could not live in a place like that and preserve my psychological well-being, and yet I wanted to stay. If Yerevan is a city of paradoxes, then Karabakh (particularly Shushi) makes paradoxical feelings swell up within you. The place itself is very simple, how it makes one feel is complex. It was very humbling to be among Armenians living in a place like that, and it is very difficult for me to find the words to describe the place and the emotions to you because I do not fully understand either.

About the Karabakh landscape. I went to the Forests of Dilijan, through the mountains of Zangezur, to Lake Seven and the fields of Ararat. All of them pale in comparison to the natural beauty of Karabakh (Armenian name is Artsakh). It is a very mountainous region, and the mountains are covered with forest. It is a breathtaking sight to behold. And every mountain and valley looks very distinct; I was amazed by this feature. Some more rocky than others, some with more grass than trees, each peak had its own personality and character. I took many pictures of the mountains and Shushi because I thought I might not remember them well enough when I got back. This was a foolish assumption, and I knew it at the time, but this I hope will show you how much of an impression a place like Karabakh leaves on a person. When William Saroyan said that his heart was in the highlands, I imagine he meant a place like Karabakh. I have said before I am not a sentimental person (or rather, I would like to think that I am not), so why so much sentimentality now? I have seen many beautiful natural landscapes in many countries, but the fact that the Karabakh war was fought by and for Armenians, and fought so recently, it is difficult to separate the memory of the war from the natural setting. For one, much of the fighting took place in those very forests and this gives the place an added sense of symbolism once one learns the history. There are forests people are forbidden to enter because they are filled with land mines. One can still, of course, admire them from a distance. One can find rifle shells lying on the ground walking around in the woods and mountain paths. The war, at this point in history, is literally inseparable from the landscape and this is what, I think, musters these feelings inside of me. Although if one knew nothing of the war, nothing about Armenians or the Karabakh conflict, they would still be in awe when in the presence of those mountains. Edmund Burke spoke about nature and the sublime, how certain natural settings makes a man aware of his insignificance and mortality, and that this fear and awe was man brushing with the sublime. The mountains of Karabakh evoke this very sensation Burke spoke of, and one needs no history lesson to experience that. I am also amazed by the fact that a country as small as Armenia has so much variety to offer in terms of natural landscapes. Rivers, lakes, mountains, forests, deserts, plains, canyons, valleys, hills and more. On our way back from Karabakh, I was on a road on which one side had a very jagged and beautiful rock formation that looked like the grand canyon (of course, not as large), and on the other side of the road you had rolling hills and plains. If I were to show you a picture of these two landscapes, you wouldn't know that they were right next to one another but were rather in two separate parts of the country. Just to drive through Armenia is a worthwhile endeavor for not only nature enthusiasts, but people only peripherally interested in nature (like myself) because it really is a sight to behold. The crown jewel of what Armenians have to offer in terms of nature is Karabakh, however, and anyone who visits Armenia has to visit Karabakh by all means.

I'm back in Yerevan right now and all I want to do is go back to Shushi. The air sucks, everything moves too fast, and the food isn't as good (everything in Shushi was home made because people couldn't afford to buy everything. The butter and tea were so good I didn't put any jam on the butter nor any sugar in the tea. Butter and tea are only two examples, it was flavor country!). If I could go back to Karabakh before I leave (which I probably won’t), I would do it in a heartbeat. I have said almost nothing about the current political situation in Karabakh, which is complex and messy. I might write a few words in a future email, but as of now all I wanted to leave you with was my impressions of Karabakh.

Sincerely,
Sos Bagramyan
Arak-29 volunteer and BR/DH participant