Tonight I was a guest at a homecoming for a neighbor, who served his time for our country.

The homecoming was held for my neighbor Edo, who went off to serve in the army 2 years ago. His tour of duty and somewhat smooth, all but the last 8 months.

To begin with, I�ll tell you a little about Edo.

Edo was one of the first kids I met in Martuni, as he is neighbors with the family I use to stay with before I built my house.

I always admired Edo for his honesty and his understanding of the meaning of life.

Edo to this day has been the only person that has barrowed money and gave me a date as to when he would repay me and has done so weeks before the date he set for repayment.

Edo�s tour of duty took a bad turn after serving in the army for 1 year and 9 months.

It seems that Edo had a confrontation with a subordinate and out of frustration slapped him.

The subordinate, out of anger, put on an act as if he was badly injured and one thing led to another and Edo had to stand trial for his inappropriate conduct.

In the trial, Edo refused to have anyone defend him and was ready to answer to and serve the time the law found appropriate.

It was speculated that Edo would serve no less that one year, but his honesty and ability to defend himself and discredit the plaintiff, who the judge detected was exaggerating what had happened, gave Edo one year and then reduced the sentence to 6 month.

Edo was satisfied with the sentence, as he understood that when you make a mistake, you face the music and pay the price for what you have done.

Well, 6 months passed and Edo�s scheduled release date passed.

Since Edo�s parents are neighbors, I see them quite often and noticed on many occasions how depressed and concerned they were over Edo. Their biggest concern was that the judge that was suppose to release him had not yet heard his case so he could issue the papers to free Edo from the Shushi jail.

A couple of months passed and during those couple of months, I had asked them what the status was on Edo and is release. It was always the same answer of they seem to be waiting for us to pay them something so they will hear the case, or we just don�t know and don�t know what to do.

I decided that I would talk to the head military judge who I�ve know for many years. He had always told me that if there was anything I need to just ask.

So 10 days ago, I drove to Stepanagert to sign an agreement for my internet connection with our new Arab providers and as I was driving up the main street, I noticed the head military judge on the side of the road, who I waved to and he waved back to me to stop my car.

I stopped and he climbed in and asked if I could drive him up the street.

As we were driving and engaging in the usual small talk and during that conversation, he asked me if there was anything he could do for me. At that moment, I remember Edo and asked him who I need to talk to about seeing what the status was on that case. He asked me which Edo and I said I didn�t know, but let me call and find out. I called on my cell phone to Martuni, found out and he said �yes, that is one of my cases�. He claimed that he was waiting for papers to come to him and thought that he would have them in hand in the next 2 days. He asked me who Edo was to me and I told him. He asked if he should help Edo out and I said only if he found it appropriate to do so. He said not to worry about it, he would take care of it.

A week passed and as I was in Stepanagert, I got a call from a neighbor who had just finished talking to Edo�s mom and in the conversation, she was told that Edo was released and was being held at the military police station. My neighbor told me that it may help to stop by on my way home to see if they would release Edo to me and to bring him if they do.

I stopped in at the military police station and asked about Edo. They called up to the chief of the station, who told them to send me up to see him.

I went up to the chief�s office. I have to admit that I was dressed a little sloppy, as I had come to Stepanagert for some heavy work and was a little grungy looking.

The chief looked at me and asked me in a somewhat rude tone what I wanted?

I told him that I was there to pick-up Edo and to take him to Matruni with me.

In an intimidating manor, he asked me what business I had with Edo.

I explained to him that first and foremost, I was his neighbor. Besides that, I have an organization that deals with social and economic issues. This case deals with both.

He told me that there is no guarantee that Edo will be release to go home, as he still has almost 3 months left to serve in the army.

I told him that Edo was suppose to be released from jail almost 3 months ago and as far as I could see, that time should be applied to his service in the army.

I asked him how long we were to wait until he is released from the military police and was told that his papers had been sent to the Minister of Defense for a signature and decision as to if he was to serve 3 more months in the army.

I pulled out my cell phone to call the Minister of Defense to see if there was going to be a delay and he told me that it was the assistant to the Minister of Defense that was dealing with this case. He gave me a name and phone number to call, but assured me that it really was not necessary to call, as he felt that they would have an answer in the next day or two.

With a firm handshake and the standard comment of me not wanting to waste anymore of this mans time and I will wait a couple of days to see what happens, I found my way back to my car and drove home.

So today while I was in Stepanagert, I got a call from a neighbor to tell me that they had released Edo and to come at 1 PM to the homecoming celebration. I told them that I would be late, as I was not expecting to be done with my work until late.

I got to Martuni around 6:30 PM and went to Edo�s house.

There is nothing more unappetizing than to be late to a party and find the guest drunk and acting stupid.

A special table was set for me inside away from the drunks, where I shared a meal with Edo and his friends.

What a change I saw on Edo�s moms face. She was a completely different person. Happy, cheerful and very, very, very happy to have her son home.

As we were having tea, following the departure of the very drunk guests, Edo�s mom told me that the chief of the military police station called Edo to his office before releasing him.

He asked him who is this Diaspora Armenian who is meddling in is case? Edo told him that I was his neighbor. She went on to say that he told Edo to tell me that everything is fine and there is no need for me to further investigate this case as it is no longer an issue. She then began to cry and thanked me for my help.

In the end, the Minister of Defense signed a document that Edo has served his time in the army, meaning he has fulfilled his duty to Artsakh and will not be made to serve 3 more months in the army.

As I was getting ready to leave, the table was set for the latecomers and I was made to sit and eat a second time. This time Edo�s father joined us.

One of the toasts was to me, which was a thank you for renewing their faith in the system and bringing their son home. He went on to say that if I had not done what I did, they don�t believe that Edo would have come home for many more months. He added that our promising future will come only from people like me and if there were only 10 more people who think and act like I do in Artsakh, most of our problems would be solved and life would be much better.

Yesterday I went to Stepanagert and on the way as I was driving through Aghdam, I noticed 3 men stopped and standing outside their car with one man taking pictures.

I pulled up beside them, rolled down my window and asked them what they were doing? Two of them approached my car as the one with the camera stayed near their car.

I informed them of the law of no picture taking in reclaimed territories and the guy got right up in my face to tell me that he could do anything he wanted to do.

He then asked me who came up with that rule, as he has never heard of it. I said it was a government decision and I�m sure there is a good reason for it, something connected with risks, spying and national security.

He again said that he never heard that rule and I said that you have now and advised him to stop in at the Minister of Foreign Affairs office to ask about it.

I asked him where he was from and he told me he was from Stepanagert and he reclaimed Aghdam (as if that gives him a right to do whatever he wants to).

I asked him where his guest with the camera was from. He refused to answer.

He wanted to continue to argue with me and my contractor who was with me advised him not to challenge me and to get in his car and drive off.

He didn�t seem to like that comment and I could see that this guy who I believe told me his name was Artush was starting to get mad and I figured we had pissed him off enough, so I ended the conversation, drove off slowly and noted his license number (64 US 261).

I got to Stepanagert and went to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs office to report this incident to the Deputy Foreign Minister, Masis. He was not in and was not due back that day so the guard gave me his cell phone number.

I called Masis and told him what had happened. He noted the license number and said he would take care of it.

I�m not sure what Masis did, but I will give him a call next week to see who the guy with the camera was and if they confiscated his film and checked to see if he had a visa to visit Artsakh (which I bet he didn�t, as he would have stopped in to the MFA and would have known about that rule).

I was thinking that since the government is strapped as far as man power and there really is a need to keep an eye on rule breaking visitors, who potentially could also take sensitive pictures or collect information in areas which could cause a threat to our security, I should sponsor the salaries of a couple of people who can be stationed in Aghdam and Fizuli to monitor visitors who pass through areas that they are not suppose to pass through and report their findings back to me and I�ll pass on that information to the MFA and follow up on what they did about such offenses.

Anyway, it�s time to get some sleep. I have to be up early tomorrow as were working on the tail-end of updating our equipment at the factory and by the end of the month, we should be starting production of tiles.

The other morning I dropped off Mama Manoogian at the Airport.

The airport experience was different this time and I attribute it to the change in ownership.

First thing I noticed was that one can no longer park on the departure level (except a couple of fancy imported cars from the ministry of Defense). They have the old parking spaces blocked off and even when unloading your luggage, the passangers have to come out on the drivers side as the things blocking the old parking spaces prevent you from opening your door. I guess there are some unloading spaces, but like I said, the ministry of Defense cars were using them for parking.

I unloaded the bags from the car and found a baggage cart, which I wanted to use, but some older guy seemed to be attached to it, so I figured what the heck, I�ll let him load the bags on the cart, which were each exactly 32 kilos. Well I guess the guy had a bad back and he let me do all the heavy work. I left my mom with 1,500 dram for a tip to the guy with the bad back and parked the car.

Parking is now 500 dram (use to be 200 dram) and they now give you a receipt which has a contract written on it that says that the owner of the car is responsible if anything is lost from the car. When it was 200 dram, you were paying that for someone to watch your car and make sure such things didn�t happen. The contact is written in Armenian and English. I guess Russian readers could sue if something happened, but maybe only Americans do such things, thus the English.

I went inside the airport to find my mother and on the way up, I was thinking that I would find the guy with the bad back who pushed in the luggage cart, disputing the tip with her as not being enough. When I found my mom, she reported to me that as she was coming into the terminal with the guy with the bad back and a policeman walked up to the guy with the bad back and told him to get lost and that luggage carts are free of charge.

I left my mom to go take a look around for Raffi�s dad, who I found sitting with his doctor friends having juice and muffins. I told Raffi�s dad that I would call over my mom, who was within eye sight and waving me over for some reason. I went over to find the guy with the bad back talking to her about giving him money, I guess to get his back fixed or something. I asked him in not so nice a way if he had a license to work in the airport and then told him that it would be a good idea to leave us alone or I would call over a policeman to deal with him. He asked if that�s the way it�s going to be? I said yes and he walked off.

We joined Raffi�s dad and his friends until his flight was ready to depart.

We then went through check-in and being that my mom had a 3rd piece of luggage, we had to pay an additional $110 (which we knew about in advance and were prepared to pay for). I had the money ready and when I wanted to offer it to the check-in people, I was told that I have to pay for it in their office and that they don�t take dollars and only drams. I said I don�t have drams and was told in their office in Yerevan that it was $110 and for that reason I brought dollars. If I had known, I would have exchanged the $110 into drams. The woman said that it�s okay, I can exchange it in the airport. I asked if their exchange rate corresponds with the exchange rate in the airport? She said no, the rate in the airport is lower. I asked if that�s the case and since British Air wants $110, then they should exchange the dollars into drams so it will be fair. My mom didn�t want to spoil her great trip with some stupid exchange rate argument story and told me to just pay it. So I asked how much drams $110 will be. She did the calculations and multiplied $110 by 581.92 drams which came out to 64,010 drams. I looked to see how much I had in drams and was short by 12,000 drams. So I went to the exchange, gave him $100 and told him I needed 12,000 in drams and the rest in dollars. His exchange rate was 551 drams to the dollar. So since I didn�t have a calculator, I trusted the exchange guy near check-in 5 and he gave me 12,000 drams and was to give me according to his calculation $78, but asked me if I would take 75 Euros instead and told me that the dollar and the Euro is now the same rate. I believed him and took $3 and 75 Euros. I took the 12,000 drams to the British Air people.

Mom and I finished the check-in process really well I thought and sat and talked as we waited for her flight to be called for boarding.

They called her flight and she started to boarding process and was sent back because her 21 days visa had expired and she was over by 4 days. No big deal, we paid $8 for the 4 days at the Ovir and sent mom on her way.

She told me to tell everyone that this was the first trip to Armenia that she left really well rested and all around happy about her experiences.

I went back to Yerevan and took the time to exchange money and the Euros and calculate my losses.

To begin with, the Euro is worth 10 dram less than the dollar. For that, I lost 750 drams. On top of this the guy shorted me 122 drams as $22 times 551 is 12,122. Then we move over to the British Air exchange rate of 581.92. On Gomidas, which is the place you find the highest rate, the rate that morning was 577. So British Air charged me 4.92 drams more than the highest rate I could find in Yerevan, meaning 541.2 drams. On top of this, I had to exchange $22 of the $110 at a much lower rate, meaning I lost an additional 30.92 drams to the dollar. That�s 680.24 drams. All in all, my total losses due to British Air and the dishonest airport exchange guy came out to 1,985.2 drams.

So I don�t feel so wronged, I�ll subtract the 1,500 I was planning on giving to the guy with the bad back, and had a total loss of 485.2 drams which is 84 cents when calculated with the real exchange rate. Such a loss is still big here in Armenia, but I guess I'll get over it as soon as I fly the next time and exercise my right as a passenger and use all the little soaps and toilet supplies from all their bathrooms on the plane within the first hour of flight so they have to refill them a few times. In fact I'll do it in both directions to be sure they understand that they should not trick people, especially me. As for the dishonest exchange guy, I wish that all his teeth fall out, all but one and for that one, may he have a tooth ache that keeps him up at night.

So what lesson can the inexperienced traveler learn from this?

1. Luggage carts in the airport are free.
2. Don�t exchange money with the guy near check-in number 5 and if you have to, count how much he gives you.
3. Euros are not yet worth the same as dollars, but I bet they will be worth more one day.
4. When British Air tells you dollars, have drams ready in that amount that you exchange in the city and increase it by 5 drams, as their exchange rate is higher. In fact, to get the best rate, go to their office in Yerevan and exchange your money there.
5. Don�t go to the airport on days that the minister of defense people are sending off someone as there will be no luggage drop-off area and room for your poor passengers to get out of the car on their side. This also means that you could end up with a ding on your car door if they try to open their door.
6. Make sure you lock your car and leave no valuables in it, as your 500 drams are paid for rent on the space your car is using and not for security.
7. Don�t worry about getting your visa extended, as the Ovir people at the airport are really nice and move you right through (I think this is because the guy that stamps your document is a Manoogian and us Manoogians don�t like to waste time).

My return to Martuni was really smooth, though the weather was very foggy from Goris to Stepanagert. None the less, I made Stepanagert in less than 5 hours, which is considered good time in good weather. I guess my car is good for taking those hills at a normal speed.

I got a call from Mama Manoogian the next morning, telling me that she got back to the states safe.

I see that comments are back. This should be interesting.

ARTSAKH VILLAGE WEDDING

Friday, 11 September 2002

Before we go to Vitalic�s (Ara�s contractor), where preparations for Vova�s (Vitalic�s son) wedding are taking place, a lot of time is spent washing Ara�s car, which will be the limo for the bride and groom. We drive down there and park the car inside. This vehicle has gotten quite a reputation. One of the little kids, barely 3, asks if it is his Mercedes and can it get out of the mud.

Laura (Vitalic�s wife) and her neighbors are working on food preparation. Kids are running around excitedly with no particular purpose. They are taking it all in, and who knows, planning for their own special day in the future.

Laura�s mother has come from the village of Jardar. She is a woman of ageless beauty, with a lined face, who has clearly seen much in her life.

We share a meal. I sit at the men�s table and join them in their toasts. The conversation is always about how hard life is, how people wouldn�t leave if the economy were better, how corrupt the government is. Always there is a toast to Ara, his brothers, father, and mother, etc.

When we leave for home, we are reminded that we should show up in the morning at 9 am, as we will go to fetch the bride.

Saturday, 12 October 2002

Who could imagine a day like today? I have read about wedding traditions in Armenian Village Life before 1915. But that I could expect to experience it in 2002 makes me appreciate this separate reality even more. With one foot in the future and the other in the past, I conclude that I prefer the latter. Here is what I mean.

In the morning, we walk down to Vitalic�s house, where the last of the wedding preparations are in full swing. Everyone is busy�preparing the backdrop for the head table (a carpet on which strips of cotton batting are shaped into the phrase Asdtso Shnorhavorutyune Dzez.). In the adjacent yard, huge kettles of boiling water, with chickens and fish cooking. Tables are being set with the best dishes, and bottles of vodka, wine, water, and soda.

Meanwhile, the Mercedes is being decorated with ribbons, balloons, flowers, and topped with the bride and groom figurines. Vova, the groom, the kavor and kavorakin, will ride in that car. Around 11, we set out for the village of Bertashen to fetch the bride. A caravan of cars sets out, preceded by the SUV that carries the videographer. With much honking of horns, it moves slowly to avoid the potholes and keep the balloons from flying off.

Bertashen is about 20 km from Martuni. The road is winding and tortuous, like the ones in our folktales, when the young man sets out in search of the perfect life. When we reach the village, everyone is out, young and old, watching the caravan pass by. They have smiles on their faces. The kids squeal with delight.

Approaching the bride�s house, we are greeted with dhol, accordion, and clarinet. We follow the ensemble into the house, where she is waiting to be dressed. Her name is Lilith�she is lovely, with little white flowers in her hair, and a look of anticipation and nostalgia on her face.

When she is dressed, the bridegroom brings her out, and with all the guests as witnesses, she says her last farewell to her father, as he places her hand into the hand of her husband-to-be. Toasts are offered and then we go to the nearby hall, where a wedding feast takes place, with lots of food, drink, music, dancing, and general merriment. This lasts until the late afternoon.

Then we all get in our cars and head to the top of the mountain in Bertashen where a monument, museum and chapel are found. The bride and groom enter the small chapel and light candles, and then go toward the monument for picture taking.

We now leave Bertashen for Martuni. We stop at the city hall, where the newlyweds sign the register and receive their certificate of marriage, and take pictures in front of Avo�s statue. Then on to Vitalic�s house to continue the festivities. Celebrate we do, with more food, drink, music, and dancing until the wee hours. Among the many toasts, one is drunk to Ara and me, his blessed mother who has come from so far away to bring help to the people of Martuni.

I am called upon to say a few words from the heart. I congratulate the newlyweds, giving them the good wishes of friends and family in Diaspora, and wishing that they may grow old on the same pillow.

How fortunate could one person be? To witness the past, the present, and look to the future in one beautiful Artsakh day.

Mama Manoogian is still at the wedding. What wedding you ask? My neighbor/contractor�s son got married today and my headache got to be too much for to me stay any longer, so I came home to take an Advil and a break. Mama Manoogian said that she would write about the wedding today, so I�ll write about something else.

For the last couple of days, all I could think about is my citizenship issue. Yes, I�m back to making my phone calls to resolve this issue once and for all, but feel like taking the politically correct and polite route is getting me no place.

I called the President�s office a couple of weeks ago to set up a meeting with him, to find out that he was out of town. Then when he got back in town, my mother came for a visit and I was too busy to call them again.

On Monday I called to set an appointment and was told that my name is on the list, the President knows I want to meet with him and they will call me to let me know when. I asked could they give me an idea as to when and was told �no, we will call you when it will be, but you are on the list�. I was told that if I wanted a better idea, to call the President�s assistant Ararat Danelyan (who is also the President�s childhood friend). I called and was put on hold. Armene, his secretary came back on and told me that Danelyan was just going to see the President and that he can�t talk right now. I asked her if she could call me back today with some news of when I will be meeting with the President. She agreed, but from that day forward, I have received no phone call.

Since then, I�ve been thinking of ways to at very least get a meeting with the President. I know and have witnessed that the President will give a visiting journalist an interview the same day. Also he is more than willing to see Diaspora Armenians who are visiting and potentially may give money. As for the local population goes, I�ve been told by many people that he does not meet with that category of people.

I guess one of the things that is bothering me so much since my last call to the President�s office is that they told me �he knows you want to meet with him�� I guess I would think that if he knows I want to meet with him and in the years that I�ve lived here and never asked to meet with him, he should know that what I have to meet with him about must be important.

One other thing I will add here is that the Presidents of Armenian and NKR and their respective governments know more about me than you the readers do and for Goukasyan to know what he knows about me and not to make it a point to set time aside to see me, well looks kind of rude and disrespectful to my families. Am I insulted by his actions? Well not yet and I guess I�m a little understanding with all things considered.

So were now moving on to plan D, which is to give him just one more chance to meet with me and he blows that chance, then watch out. At that point I will be insulted and when I get insulted, I make sure that he who insulted me knows it and not in such a nice way.

Wow!!!! I saw Ararat again last night, this time in its original English. Again, it was just amazing. Although I never re-watch movies so soon after I have seen them, this was well worth it since the first time the dubbing caused me to miss a couple of minor things and it was still a many layered movie. Aside from the difficult to watch scenes of the genocide, the pre-genocide shots of the markets and streets of Van, with Western Armenian being spoken everywhere, and even just seeing Armenian on "the big screen" in general was fantastic. Now that I have seen Egoyan tackle a subject so close to my heart, I can truly appreciate his incredible talent. In a million years I could never have written a script half as good as this one. Alright, I will stop raving for now, but you MUST see it as soon as it is released near you, and you MUST take your friends, Armenian or not as well. Last nights showing was the only one I think they played in English, and the turnout was massive. The place was sold out, and the entire expat community showed up. Americans, French, German, Italian, you name it. Anyway, I am still waiting to see a proper "Forty Days of Musa Dagh" made...

Aside from this I would just like to say that my internet situation is still horrible and I just don't know when it will get better. There is a clear need for government intervention, which does not seem like it will ever come. The Greeks have 10 more years of monopoly to abuse us with.

Wow!!!! If your wondering what I'm wowing about, read this (this means click here).

Just to give our readers another perspective of life here, I asked Mama Manoogian to write some of her impressions of her visit to share with you. She agreed and wrote the following:

Mama Manoogian reporting from Yerevan and Martuni, where I have been for nearly a month. It has been a very interesting and productive sojourn from California to Armenia and Artsakh.

There have been memorable moments difficult to capture in words. First, the many friends who traveled on the same flight(s) from Los Armenios to London and via Tbilisi to Yerevan�sharing a long, arduous trip, but well worth the anticipation of reconnecting with family and friends. Welcome sights and sounds of the homeland everywhere. I finally feel familiar enough with Yerevan so that I can now give others directions on how to get from one place to another.

Being an avid reader of the on-line journal keeps me in touch with what is going on, and spending time with the loggers was a joyful occasion, not to mention meeting Raffi�s dad, Dr. Kojian for the first time, even though we are from the same neck of the woods. How wonderful it was to see the enthusiasm and energy our young people have brought with them from the four corners of the earth to Mother Armenia. Vardzkernit katar!

And then there was the trip to Artsakh with Ara and a long-time friend from New York. No matter the weather or the time of day, the beauty of the mountains, the valleys and the countryside always takes my breath away. Life here in this isolated place transports me to the edge of time, into a separate reality, and yet into a welcoming home away from home. When I see the people here, they could well be my neighbors and friends anywhere. Their interests, dreams, and aspirations are like my own. We are members of one family, the Armenian family. And I wouldn�t exchange that for anything.

I really don�t have time to log right this second as I have to get some sleep so I can tour around some guest I have that just showed up at my door a couple of hours ago.

I just wanted to answer the question that Raffi from the Diaspora Log asked of what picture I made mention of that said that I think we are all in big trouble.

I had taken a picture of my latest construction project on my house, which is the new building I am adding behind my swimming pool which is a 3 story (2 under ground and one above) supper huge game room. The lowest floor is squash court, which in itself is 2 stories high. The trouble I was referring to was the fact that when everyone in the Diaspora sees the way I am living here, they are all going to want to move here, repopulate Artsakh and really mess up the economy in the west. Raffi thought that it would be better if we kept our lavish lifestyle here a well guarded secret. Oops� I guess I let the gadoo out of the bag.

After a couple of days of rain, the sun finally reappeared.

Due to work, I�ve been going to Stepanagert almost every day and though the ride is long, my Mercedes has made the ride much more enjoyable.

As Raffi mentioned in his log about him not being able to picture me driving a Mercedes in Artsakh, even I�m having problems getting use to it. I say this as my car does not really match my personality. This is a car that people here connect to power, mafia and corruption.

I�ve been told that my Mercedes brings back memories of some very nasty people of our past and a time when people were living in fear. I wont get into the history of my car and its former owner, but will say it was once owned and driven by one of those people that many feared and showed a great deal of �respect� for at the same time.

One thing that is apparent, people stop and look to see who is sitting behind the blackened windows of my car. I even had one guy in a car coming in the opposite direction of me, bring his car to a total stop in the middle of an intersection to look long and hard to see who was behind the wheel. I�m not sure if the look on his face was one of seeing who is driving his friends car or if he was looking to see if it was the former owner himself, who maybe he had a need to interact with.

I�m sure when people see my car, they remember the former Prime Minister Leonard Pedrosyan�s �$170,000� Mercedes 600SEL and assume this is one of those $100,000+ cars. Little do they know (though word is spreading) that this car cost me half the price of what a new Russian made Fiat costs.

One other observation. My Mercedes is the only one of its kind on the streets of Artsakh these days. It seems that even the President no longer drives around in his Mercedes. Maybe it uses too much gas or send out the wrong message.