Sometimes You Just Have to Laugh

I wish I had a photo for the following brief story. But hopefully the words will convey the essentials.


Wednesday's marshutni ride home was the ride from hell. I'm taking a taxi from now on. Screw the $$ (it's an extra $2.50).

Here's the scene: At 2 o'clock, I take a Dramamine because I've been on this ride before and I know that's coming. Or I thought so at least. On today's marshutni, there are 11 people sitting in the first 2 rows (there are seats for 6). There are two kids on laps on either side of me. A guy is standing in the wheel well where the door opens. Another is sitting in the aisle on a stool (one of 3 or perhaps 4 doing this). We are due to leave at 2:30. Everyone is seated  (or standing) and ready to go.

The driver has disappeared. 3:15 he finally shows up. Then we have to wait for them to load an entire taxi full of electronic equipment for a store in Noyemberyan. Literally, a stack 6 feet tall. There is more shuffling and rearranging. The driver and some passengers get into an argument. Tick, tick, tick.

Finally we leave the bus station an hour late. We stop to pick up more people. There are now 26 people (including the driver) in a van that holds 16. So not too bad. It's hot (in the 90s). In an unusual twist, the windows are OPEN. Normally they are closed as you might die from a draft.

About an hour into the trip (usually 3 hours) we stop at Lake Sevan so the driver can buy some fish (we won't eat the fish here due to the pollutants in the lake). Everyone else in the marshutni piles out to buy fish, or to smoke a cigarette. Everyone gets back in. We now have 26 people and 10 bags full of fish. It's hot, and the entire van smells like a fish market. I am trying not to gag.

We drive another 30 minutes and stop at our usual rest stop. Why? I don't know. It's just that we always stop here. Never mind that we JUST stopped half an hour ago. After coffee and more cigarettes, we all pile back in and continue. We stop to pick up more people at a town another 45 minutes down the road. I am baffled by how anyone else can still fit. Then we start switchback hell. About 30 km of nothing but switchbacks. I am grateful for Dramamine. In one town, a few (2) people get out. We all breathe a bit easier.

A bit further down the road, the road is closed by the police and army due to recent skirmishes between Azeri and Armenian soldiers. We take a detour. We get to the next town, and a few more people get out. Mind you, I have been sitting next to a mother and 18-month old boy. The boy has a toy car wheel and has been going "vroom, vroom" for 160 km. His driving could use some work as he keeps running into me. He and his mother are now gone. (Just to be clear, I LIKE children (surprise, surprise). Usually they are vomiting on or near me, so this was really an improvement).

We get to the end of the detour. Instead of taking a left to go to Noyemberyan, the driver goes right--TOWARDS the border we're trying to avoid. We stop at the army post to deliver some packages (it's the 2nd army post we've topped at BTW).

Finally, we get turned in the right direction. The rest of the trip is spent avoiding the cows, sheep and goats who are headed home for the night. These animals seem to have no fear of big vehicles. It's a slalom course. No casualties this time, so that's a plus. We arrive in Noyemberyan at 7:30 or so. I have now been on a marshutni since 1:30 (got to the bus station early). Our normal 3-hour trip has taken 5. I am hating public transportation. The maximum number of people in a taxi? Four. Plus a driver.

So, sometimes you just half to laugh. I am continually amazed by the patience of the Armenians who wait through these sorts of situations on a daily basis and never seem to complain. This wouldn't happen in the U.S.

48 days and counting . . . seriously, counting. But truly will miss Armenia and her wonderful people. What an experience!!

See you all soon.