“How's life in the gyugh?" the other volunteers ask when they see me in Yerevan. They mean Gyumri. I don't get too frustrated with this question, though, as I had no idea what to expect from Gyumri when I first learned I'd be living here. Some of the other volunteers and I joke, when we try to find dressy clothes among our belongings and come up short, that we packed for life in Gyumri like we were leaving for war. This is obviously not the current climate in Gyumri but, to be sure, there are elements of the past that linger and that make life different here than it is anywhere else in Armenia.
Despite all its hardships, this city and the people in it have been chugging along and rebuilding life piece by piece—physically, emotionally, financially, spiritually, community-wise; advances are being made every day. And while Gyumri is far from a "gyugh," as people say, I still sense that village characteristic heaviness of life sometimes—a sadness in the souls and lives of the people here that is still tangible—a fact that is hard to accept in the city that you have come to love. On the other hand, the sadness is most often overwhelmed by this, sometimes unbelievable, warmth and generosity of heart; people will open their homes and their souls to you in a matter of minutes, no matter how little they have or how much they've lost.
These things being said, the volunteers that have been in Gyumri together have formed connections that are unique in comparison to any I have seen or experienced in my life. Those who meet us are shocked to hear that we met for the first time in Armenia—the closeness that we exude and the bonds that we have formed here, with each other and with the city and her people, are so deep that others can feel their strength by proximity alone. The incredible relationships that developed in Gyumri were actually serendipitous accidents, as none of us consciously chose this city as our home: it was borne out of the emphasis shift of Depi Hayk, and it brought us together in this city.
A couple of weeks ago we had a forum on the economic development of Shirak marz lead by Hovhannes Harutyunyan, professor of international law. "The volunteers in Yerevan only understand Yerevan," he said to us at the end, "but the volunteers in Gyumri understand all of Armenia." I'm not sure you could find a volunteer among us who would disagree; the city of Gyumri has taught us all that the center of our Armenia is Yerevan but the heart of Armenia, for better or for worse, is in Gyumri.
Elyssa Karanian (USA), AVC volunteer and BR/DH participant
“How's life in the gyugh?" the other volunteers ask when they see me in Yerevan. They mean Gyumri. I don't get too frustrated with this question, though, as I had no idea what to expect from Gyumri when I first learned I'd be living here. Some of the other volunteers and I joke, when we try to find dressy clothes among our belongings and come up short, that we packed for life in Gyumri like we were leaving for war. This is obviously not the current climate in Gyumri but, to be sure, there are elements of the past that linger and that make life different here than it is anywhere else in Armenia.
Despite all its hardships, this city and the people in it have been chugging along and rebuilding life piece by piece—physically, emotionally, financially, spiritually, community-wise; advances are being made every day. And while Gyumri is far from a "gyugh," as people say, I still sense that village characteristic heaviness of life sometimes—a sadness in the souls and lives of the people here that is still tangible—a fact that is hard to accept in the city that you have come to love. On the other hand, the sadness is most often overwhelmed by this, sometimes unbelievable, warmth and generosity of heart; people will open their homes and their souls to you in a matter of minutes, no matter how little they have or how much they've lost.