Third Star the the Right and Straight on Till Morning

I spent most of my time in Armenia with girls- Arpine, the girls at Albion, ladies at work, Larissa Markovnah, Kregg’s wife. Georgia proved to be a different story. I pulled into the train station and was met by Irakli Torua, who is about two feet taller than the average Armenian guy. He drove me to Irakli Saralidze’s house, where I stayed. We had some eggs and then loaded up the SUV to head out for some rifle practice with Artur and Tengis, Counterpart’s driver. Lucky for me, I was wearing my best pink rifle practice skirt.

During my stay, I felt like Wendy to the Lost Boys of Tbilisi. They clearly do not spend much time with women and are sometimes like a group of goofy 15 year old boys. I did some dish washing, shirt ironing (only because I offered and then insisted), and tried to explain why I could not finish my liter-sized beer at lunch. Or why I was satisfied with just one full quail for dinner.

I ended up spending all three days in the office catching up on Counterpart work and recruiting nonsense but was driven around the city at night by Irakli T., who thinks we may be in love.

Heading to Istanbul today to meet Joey and Kristin, then on to Athens where we will find Nora, then Mykonos, back to Athens and finally home via London and New York.

Bangarang!

iMetaphor

At the beginning and end of each work day, I look forward to what I’ve come to think of as comfort music. Being able to put on my ipod and tune out the hustle bustle of the streets is fun. The soundtrack to Yerevan, as dj’ed by moi.

(It also helps me tune out the small man in army fatigues guarding the State Assembly who makes hideous kissing noises every time I walk by. I am about 5 inches taller, maybe about 15 pounds heavier, and I think we are looking at a 2:1 thigh ratio that does not come out in your favor, amigo.)

So I was pretty upset when I slipped on the sidewalk and fell onto the hand holding the ipod. The screen went all white with pretty rainbows, but otherwise it works fine. I can skip forward and backward through the playlists, but I never know exactly where I am or what is coming next.

As I sit on the Soviet train to Tbilisi that inexplicably takes 14 hours when you can make it in 4 hours in a car, sitting next to my new friend, the 70 year old pot-bellied man who has just taken off his shirt to sleep in our cozy little compartment, I hope you will indulge me for a minute.

Perhaps life in Armenia, the developing world, on the road, or anywhere away from a place you can comfortably call home, is a little like an ipod with no screen. It’s the same song no matter where you are. What’s different is your ability to see the menu, and control it like you would at home. But with a deep breathe and a little relinquishment of control, my favorite song still comes on, eventually. And surprise and happiness it brings when I finally hear it is a greater reward than if I were to be able to pull it up on a whim.

Hearing the same songs that I listen to in my apartment, my car, while running (figuratively because we all know I quit actually running in late 2003), is at once comforting and homesickness-inducing. In this same way, being so far away from home makes the world feel smaller on one hand, and never more vast on the other.

I’ve felt many times over the past two months that there is nothing new under the sun. Sure, there are new sites to see, people to meet, food to stuff my face with, but we are all engaged in the same basic activities- family, friends, work, births, deaths, holidays, Sunday evenings and pizza, it’s just the script is different. But at the same time, there is never, ever a place that that can fulfill what ‘being home’ does. And accepting this, that as much as you adapt and grow to love your new environment, it will never be home, is what makes the world feel so very, very big.

The Namesake

The place where Larissa Markovnah and Arpine work is called Albion and it’s an English language school. It seems that they only hire pretty, young girls (because you have to be nice looking if someone is going to pay attention to you for 2 hours!). Each one is hand-selected by Larissa Markovnah and the result is a gaggle of sweet, ambitious and lively girls. Each one has an English persona- Arpine is Susan Smart, Lucine is Tina Trust, Anna is Melanie Bright, and Mariam is Betty O’Bryan. A new girl started during my stay and guess what her name is? Becky :)

The Soviet Union Called and It Wants It Train Back

I decided to take the train from Yerevan up to Tbilisi to visit some old Counterpart friends. Armen, our driver, took me to the train station to help me buy a ticket. The train station was like being magically transported back to Armenia, or anywhere else in the Soviet Union, 20 or even 50 years ago. The building is huge, with cathedral ceilings and marble floors. There are statutes of a workers, stars, and abstract scenes expressing ‘unity.’ It could be quite grand with some paint and elbow grease but now it just seems neglected.

The first time we went, we waited in line for 25 minutes while the cashier helped the person (one person) in front of us. When it was my turn, we stepped up to the counter and the woman promptly turned the sign to close and got up to leave. We were all of 2 feet away for nearly half an hour but she didn’t feel any need to tell us she was leaving for lunch.

We came back the next day and joined the ‘line,’ which forms in a radial radial rather than linear fashion. Armen and I stood in the heat, occasionally rolling our eyes, watching the lady sell tickets. The process involved writing names down in an old notebook, the kind with the black and white marbling on the front. Then she would look at the seating plan, a packet of stapled together papers, and write your name on your seat. Then she took a booklet of tickets, and this is the part that really killed me, and cut the ticket out with scissors, like making a paper snowflake. No ticket would be complete without a stamp so she picked some special letters and numbers out of the box and loaded them into the ancient machine, like you would with an old fashion printing press. And with that, I was booked for Tbilisi.

When I look good, I feel good

When I packed for Armenia, I packed business casual, both for work and play. Modest skirts and work appropriate tops for the week, modest skirts and tank tops for the weekend. I also brought a couple ‘fun’ shirts in case there was a big night out, and some suits in case there was a formal meeting. I can safely say that I was the most conservatively dressed person in the office, possibly in the under 40 population of Yerevan.

The cleavage here is out of control. Plunging necklines everywhere, 4 inch heels on the dusty cobblestones, and just yesterday I was walking behind a woman who had a gold outline of a thong stenciled on the outside of her jeans. My suits stayed in the suitcase, but I was still the plain jane, simple sally, feeling a little silly in my button up shirt and khaki shirt.

Sometimes it is hard to keep in mind that Armenians, in general, are not very promiscuous, well, at least the women are not. We were at a case law training one weekend and there was a woman who was doing particularly well in all the competitions. It was very hard for me to hear what she was saying though, because she looks and dresses very much like the hairdresser from Legally Blond, also the same actress who played Stifler’s mom in American Pie. The jury is still out on whether she’s had plastic surgery or just looks very much like what all the plastic surgeons try to make women look like. But she wears the most outrageous outfits. Like beaded halter tops with and visible bra straps made out of tiny rhinestones, periodically gathered in heart shapes, and a short skirt covered in zippers. She had big hair, long nails, and long dangly earrings the size of a child’s fist. And she totally kicked ass at appellate brief writing. I also found out that she is a public defender and probably the only person in the history of Armenia to get a criminal case outright dismissed by citing ECHR precedent.

A little digging discovered that this trend toward the scandalous is a relatively new development, and in part a reaction to the fall of the Soviet Union. I was told that during Soviet times, there was a code of modesty enforced. Nothing more than hand holding on TV, and very little public sexiness. After the fall of the Berlin Wall, the sternness lifted, and voila, porn on public TV at 8 pm. (but still no pre-marital sex). Women also felt more free to dress how they pleased. At the time there was no where to go at night that was socially acceptable. Clubs were for strippers and drunken men. So the women started to dress sexily when it was socially acceptable- during the day. I suppose if I had no nightlife, no chance to get all dolled up and feel attractive, I too might look for a shorter, tighter, gaudier business casual. But I draw the line at rhinestone bra straps.

Last week I realized how far I’d come when I decided to wear one of my ‘fun’ shirts to the office. Everyone loved it.

Running on Empty

There’s a beautiful monument in Yerevan called the Cascade that is about a quarter mile of straight up stairs. Because running on streets would be an exercise in self destruction, I got a little work out by trying to run up the stairs. I looked like a really eager tourist at them bottom of the stairs and someone finishing a marathon at the top. The view of Mt. Ararat and the city at the top of the Cascade is definitely worth it.

Legal English, Oxymoron?

I realize that I never finished describing the rest of the ABA project or what exactly I am doing. Besides the Criminal Law project, there are several others:
Judicial Reform- keeping track of the judiciary, introducing case law, putting together the Legal Reform Index .
Legal Profession- working with attorneys to create professional societies, like the ABA, conducting trainings, grant writing.
Legal Education- working with law school students, introducing legal clinics in the regions, more case law

Case Law Training

Elections and Outreach- during the very controversial elections last spring, ABA was very active doing monitoring trips, responding to legal problems on election day, and supporting citizens who wanted to bring their election-related cases to court (a very brave few souls). The Outreach program had a grant to produce the ‘Alphabet of Law,’ which are colorful cartoons and programming aimed at educating children about the legal system and their rights. The program also produces a monthly newsletter describing all the legal developments that happened during the month.

My big project was teaching a Legal English class to Armenian attorneys. I really wasn’t sure what to expect and was given very little guidance on what I should teach and how I should conduct the class, but I think it turned out well in the end. Attendance varied a lot, often depended on the weather and tapered off as we got closer to August, but there was a core group of four people who came every time. We had a lot of fun together. We covered federalism, Boumediene v Bush, Loving v Virginia, the US Constitution and Bill of Rights, and corruption of the judiciary (the difference between making a bad decision in good faith and making a bad decision in bad faith). A former prosecutor from Brooklyn was working at the embassy and came to all the classes so it was nice to have someone who knew what he were talking about.

What I thought was really remarkable was how explaining the basic concepts of our legal system to someone else can make you understand it better yourself. All those Con law classes where I was half playing Snood and half counting minutes somehow seeped in and it was only in explaining the Constitution to someone else that I really understood what Magill was talking about.

I did some other cool projects- like summarizing ECHR decisions so that Armenian lawyers can easily reference them when arguing for things like confrontation of witnesses and bail for criminal defendants. I did some less exciting but still interesting jobs like editing the newsletters and monthly admin reports and updating the office policy manual on things like tax laws and severance packages. I also helped out a friend of the USAID director in an international child custody case.

I really liked the job this summer but unfortunately, finding a real job abroad with ABA doesn’t seem very hopeful. When ABA sends American attorneys abroad, their value added is their legal experience practicing law in the US. I’d like to skip this step and head straight for the good bits. But it seems like I’ll have to pay my dues somewhere first.

The underground music scene is so.....literal.

Heart of the Matter

When Arpine talks to me about love and dating, she talks about looking for her ‘other half,’ the one person in the world who completes you. At parties, there is always a toast to those who have their ‘other halves by their sides,’ and best wishes for those who have yet to meet him or her. My co-worker who is a translator referred to this person as ‘one’s beloved.’ In America, when we talk about love and dating, we are rarely so honest or graphic about what it is all about. In fact, hearing this reminds me of the Sex and the City episode where Carrie pretends to faint after Petrovsky buys her a Chanel dress and takes her to the opera. Like biting into something so sweet it makes your teeth hurt.

But why the cynicism, I have to ask myself. On one hand, my impression of young married couples here is that it mostly involves holding hands and looking sullen. And living with your parents, or his parents. There is also the problem of a ‘ruined woman.’ Men don’t want women who have taken a stroll around the block once or twice, so experimentation or divorce are definite nonos. It seems to me that all this leads to the incredible pressure to find the one, your other half, your beloved. You’ve got one shot, so you better do it right (or else you will be living with your mother for the rest of your life).

In my brief experience, this leads girls in their 20’s (you are only a woman after your wedding night) to be very, very picky about whom they choose to do the friendship with. It also leads to the curious and critical look in peoples’ eyes when I tell them I’m here alone, single and not actively looking. Ahhhhhh, to have traveled half way around the world, alone, self-demonstrating my independence, only to wind up in a place that views independence in girls my age as something akin to a lazy eye.

So, cultural differences aside, still- why the cynicism? I’ve seen lots of real love- my grandparents, my parents and even my friends (most often while wearing a heavy satin café/champagne/mocha colored dress). But for some reason, the other half/beloved talk makes me think you need to suspend reality in order to swallow it. What, exactly, are the details of ‘ever after’? He is still your beloved if you can’t stand the way he, oh I don’t know, leaves clothes all over the floor?

I can already hear the answers to these questions- that real love isn’t about perfect compatability, so on and so forth. But I think the minute you start making compromises to prove that he is the one, you are perched atop a slippery slope. If you forgive/accept/deal with this, why not that? And once you start making deals with true love, how do you know when you’ve talked yourself out of a bargain?

I may sound pessimistic, but I don’t think I am, really. Conversely, I think love, or maybe marriage, is all about the little compromises and deals, all done in service of the motto, ‘Better with than without.’ I don’t think it’s an easy feat, finding someone whom you are always better with than without. But it seems to have very little to do with this idea of divine intervention and ‘the one.’

Apples are from Kazakhstan; vegetarians clearly are not.

I'm sitting in an internet cafe in London across from the Borough Market. It is a small victory that I actually got here...after delays, bag issues, somehow ending up in Prague, getting lost with all my luggage after coming out from the Waterloo station at midnight (hey, things have changed around here!) I am finally enjoying all that is London. Amanda Greenwood is coming tomorrow and we will spend a whole week here going crazy, having fun and being dorks together. I walked along Southbank today and couldn't stop smiling; life is good.

Kazakhstan. So much to tell!

Firstly, let's get this out of the way: "Very niiiice! I liike!" or "High fivee!" I got it out of my system on the plane ride over (while I was sitting next to and making friends with the Ukranian Olympic fencing team) so that I didn't offend anyone. They HATE Borat. It's tough because it is really the only reference most Americans have. Most Americans would never have encountered or thought of Kazakhstan in their entire lives if it weren't for Sascha Baron Cohen. They say that there is no such thing as bad PR...but it sure stinks to have 300 million people think that in Kazahstan women are just after cockroaches, respect-wise.

This trip was with the JDC (Jewish Joint Distribution Committee) and Tufts Hillel, so we worked with the Jewish community and spent the whole week exploring our Jewish identities. Under the Soviet Union, religion was clearly not allowed, so most Jews in Almaty were completely cut off from their Jewish roots. We worked and lived with "Kazakhstani peers," a bunch of kids our age, some of whom only found out they are Jewish literally years ago. One girl in my group, Ania, got a job working for the Jewish community website just by chance. Her parents decided it was a fitting time to tell her then that she is Jewish. They were too scared to tell her before that. This was six months ago. She's 20.

All of these discussions about Judaism really got me thinking about my roots and my own Jewish identity. More on this later.

Some quick facts before I go:
Apples really are from Kazakhstan. So are yurts and Kazakh nomads.
KZ is the 9th largest country in the world.
Being a vegetarian is a little bit like being a weirdo in KZ.

More soon.

Love,
Sarah

The People’s Movement for Reckless Endangerment

And the plot thickens…..
I’ve done a lot of complaining about the traffic and drivers in Armenia this summer. It really is horrible and people here seem to dislike it just as much as I do.

Last week I was editing an article about the exorbitant increases in fines for traffic violations and the author just happened to mention the origins of this national affinity for dangerous driving.

By way of a brief background, there is an ‘upper class’ in Armenia, about 300 very wealthy families. Everyone knows who they are, where they live, how they got their money, and who their children are. There are many boutiques in Yerevan selling outrageously priced clothes ($100 for a plain cotton tank top, Gap quality) and these stores are known to cater solely to these families, because no one else can afford them (including yours truly). On the way out of Yerevan, you can see ‘Gago the Stupid’s’ compound perched on top of a hill. He has his own church in the compound and is currently constructing an identical mansion for his two year old son.

The sons of these wealthy families tend to drive SVUs, black shiny ones that I’m sure are really good makes and models. They get special vanity plates that have repeating numbers and letters. Not the kind of vanity plate anyone can get for a little extra money, but ones reserved especially for these families. In the past, these young, privileged men in huge expensive cars were never pulled over for traffic violations. The police would literally turn their heads and pretend not to see a red light that was run, an illegal turn, ect. This allowed and empowered the rich to drive with impunity, and they took full advantage of their ability to break the law and scare others on the road.

Praying I don't get hit by a car.

As it turns out, Average Joe (Armen) Driver got fed up with the situation and started to drive dangerously as well. Things escalated until today, when everyone drives like they don’t care if they hit little old ladies or not.

The police are trying to get the situation back under control but are being met with a lot of resistance. It used to be, complained the driver quoted in the article, that if you got pulled over you could give the officer the equivalent of $30 and get out of a $60 ticket. But with the police crackdown, drivers are stuck with their $60 tickets, which quickly double, triple, and quintuple within a couple months of non-payment. You can end up with a $1000 fine.

I thought the quote in the article was very interesting. The taxi driver bemoaned the unreasonable traffic fine scheme, which does seem a little ridiculous, but also complained that it didn’t affect the rich people because they had no trouble paying the fee anyways. He’s right, but misses the point. Rich people are always going to have an easier time paying a fine, just like most things in life will probably be physically easier for them. But on the other hand, rich people probably are not walking home from the bus, or trying to cross a busy intersection to get to work. This fight against privilege is powerless against undeserved privilege and winds up imposing a double sanction on the rest of society- exorbitant traffic fines and the risk of vehicular manslaughter every time you step out the door.

Health Watch 2008

I started a new diet. It’s called the ‘I’m so hot my will to exist is melting and I’d rather just put my head down on my desk and minimize movement than try to go get lunch’ diet. I’ve been eating a lot of watermelon. When it cools off at, oh say 11:30 pm, I tend to perk up a little and eat my daily caloric intake worth of ‘crackers,’ with quotes because despite the packaging, we all know that these have about two times too much sugar to be considered actual crackers, and that calling them such is just a euphemism for sweet, delicious cookies.

This diet is in many ways similar to that of my officemate. She told me several times that she is trying to lose weight this summer. She is on the ‘brick of ice cream and half liter of regular coke for lunch’ diet. I wonder if I should say something. I would never, EVER suggest that someone diet, or say anything about an average person’s choice of food. But, we talk about her diet at least three times a week, only because she brings it up. She clearly thinks she is making sacrifices (delicious sacrifices) and politely refuses other food. How to handle this delicate situation, I am not sure. I’ll probably err on the side of silence but it is slightly painful to watch.

Arpine's Birthday Party, her uncle explaining to me again that I have to drink the WHOLE thing.

I may have mentioned this before, but I have been informed that is it unhealthy to sip vodka. Arpine's uncle is a surgeon and everytime we are eating with him he calls on me to make a toast and then gets (kiddingly) upset when I don't finish my shot glass of vodka. He did tell me, in all seriousness, that it is a sign of alchoholism to sip vodka. It means the taste doesn't bother you because you drink it so much. I've tried to explain that if I drink the whole thing everytime I will fall over.

Finally, I had the most unintentionally terrifying experience of my life last week. We went to Victory Park, which is at the top of the Cascade, high above the city. There are several amusement park rides and they are very 'Soviet.' You see the usual suspects, the swings ride, the Viking boat one, Tilt-a-whirl, and.....the Ferris Wheel. The rides are at least 50 years old- there are vines and weeds growing through the concrete, the paint is chipped, and some of the lights of the rides are burned out. The old guy that runs them looks tired, unshaved, maybe completely drunk. He doesn't get up to do safety checks. We decided to go on the Ferris Wheel, so when an empty car came around we hopped in (ourselves). No chains or gates to keep you in the car. It was windy on the ground but as soon as we got above the treeline there were gale force winds that made the car sway back and forth. I have never been so afraid. Arpine managed to get her camera out and take this less than flattering picture. I am posting it as penance for the time last summer when I went on the Ferris Wheel with Steve Spiro and teased him by making it sway. I understand now and I am truly sorry :)

Alaska

Hello all,
It's been quite a while since I've written anything on here, but I've got good reasons. I've been in the White Mountains of North-Central Alaska, which have more grizzly bears than the White Mountains in New Hampshire, although we didn't see any.
We finished our work project, which was continuing the construction of a trail up Tabletop mountain (look it up, it'll probably take a while to find) to the tune of 750 feet, or a less impressive sounding 1/7 of a mile. Building a trail through tundra, we quickly learned, has its own pace and its own rules, just like Alaska.
A description. The first step is to take a shovel or an ax blade and cut a square of the tundra, which was anything from two inches of dry or burned grass, to three foot deep chunks of seeping moss, shrubs and saplings that could be rolled up like a carpet. The next step is to admire what a clean-looking "trail" you've made for just a minute, and then begin digging drainage ditches across the trail as fast as you can manage, because what you've just done is cut cross sections of several small rivers running through the tundra that now begin to pour onto your section, making the dry-ish dirt, mud.
So you've successfully gotten the tundra off the trail in a move that resembles hugging a three foot long wet sponge and youve gotten a couple drainages to get some of your newfound rivers off the trail. Don't wait now, because you need to get all of the organic material off of the layer of clay underneath it that will become your trail before the ground melts! That's right, it's eighty degrees out and the ground is solid ice! What's that? it started raining? uh oh. Go back to camp and cook dinner. definitely don't pass go.
You're back the next day, although the sun never went down, so who's to say, really, and you go to your spot, and stand stretching in the morning mist, scanning for moose and owls, when you realize that the section of soil you'd thought so foolishly to claim to control, maybe a little bit, is now literally swallowing you. It turns out, you've reached the right layer of clay, but there's a spring underneath it, so it's now quicksand and you're up to your calves and getting deeper. You call for help from your crew members, but they are all rolling around in gastrointestinal agony (we are bringing four of our eight members to the clinic for what seems like the same digestive disorder). Once you wrestle the ground for a few minutes and end up panting on the tundra, you know you've really gotten into building trail in tundra. It's now time to admit defeat and wait five days until you can stand on the ground you just dug up.
Building trail in the tundra is like scratching a mosquito bite, constantly, on purpose, maybe even getting paid for it. Sometimes it seems like you should just resist that initial urge to build a trail there, and the itch will go away. But it's also really satisfying, to turn tundra into some hard won trail-like state, and be able to share it with some really great people.

p.s. our crew finished more trail, per person, of any crew in White Mountains history. We had the easy go of it.

So now we're spending the next two nights on the army base in Fairbanks, getting better and cleaning up, before a celebration tour through Denali National Park. I hope everyone is doing well, and pictures will come soon.

Steve

Becky-jan

I once heard the expression, 'a nickname is like a verbal hug.' In Armenia, adding the -jan to the end of a name is like saying friend, buddy, dear, ect. A little like the diminutive form in Spanish. Adding jan isn't a big deal, it is said so quickly you can barely catch it. But, the first time someone called me Becky-jan a couple weeks ago, I could not wipe the dopey grin off my face. It was all I could do not to stand up and give a Sally Field Oscar speech. You like me, you really, really like me.

Photo of the Armenian army around WWI, from the Armenian history museum.

Qsan Yot in Hayastan

Leaving your mid twenties for the barren no man's land of your late twenties is not so bad when it's done with cake, Georgian dumplings, vodka and friends- old ones, new ones and the newest ones.

I had a great birthday weekend. ABA staff brought some cake to work, which we ate at 10:30 am. The Counterpart NIS Country Director just happened to be in Yerevan so we went out to lunch and gossiped about all things CPI. After work I went out for drinks with some ladies from work and had the most delicious watermelon punch thing. And thennnn, my friend Zara and I went to Kami, Yerevan best and only club for cool kids. We must have been doing some seriously awesome dancing because some dude sitting off to the side kept giving us two thumbs way up and perfect tens. And my mummy sent me a fabulous care package, just like at camp!, so I have hershey kisses all day long.

On Saturday I poked around some museums and met a new buddy, to whom I told all the half facts I know about Yerevan and dragged to the flea market and then all the way up the Cascade on Sunday night for some Russian beers and nightime city views.

On Sunday, Arpine took me out to the country with her 'yard friends.' We took a mashrutka (small minivan) out to the country and then her uncles picked us up and took us to a church called Khor Virap where Grigor Lushivich was imprisoned for a long time. They kept him in a hole, and low and behold, they let you go down into the hole! It was about 90 degrees and I was feeling a little 'under the weather' from the night before but they all really wanted me to go down into the hole, so I took a deep breath and went down. Like everyone in Arpine's life, her family was incredibly nice and sweet.

Then we picked up some more family and headed way, way out into the countryside to Armenia's only national park for another BBQ. It was gorgeous! We had pretty much the same meal as I did at the countryside house. We took a little hike and played some no-net volleyball.

Before heading out we stopped by Arpine's grandmother's house to say hello. Her aunt, uncle, and cousins all live with grandma in a very nice house. They keep animals and Ashok was very excited to show me all the little Wilburs!

Rule of Whose Law?*

The project I am working on here is called a rule of law project. Generally, that means promoting a society that depends on its formally written laws and legal systems to function. Rule of law means you don't speed because you could get a ticket. You don't accept bribes because the you could go to jail. You don't build an addition to your 4th floor apartment and support the whole thing with two cement posts because you will violate building codes.

The concept of a society that does not depend on formal law is tricky for us to understand because we consider a workable, if imperfect, legal system as a fundamental prerequisite to a functioning society. But it isn't necessarily so. People will work out their problems and try to find some sort of justice in the most efficient means available, whether they are written, formal, or merely understood.

This is not to say that having a strong legal system isn't good. In fact, a strong, accountable, and consistent legal system is maybe the only 'export' from the West that I have seen that doesn't come with significant drawbacks (and I've considered democracy). It's something I feel confident standing behind.

I had a conversation with an Armenian law professor and my ABA director at a case law training for judges during the first week I was here. I've been mulling it over since. Here's what I've got.

When Americans and Europeans (and others) talk about rule of law we assume a very basic concept- that of a social contract. I remember a little of my 10th grade World Civ and the idea that governments exists in order to protect people from a 'state of nature,' in which we would all run with axes. We forfeit the right to drive as fast as we want to the government for protection against those who would drive faster and more dangerously.

But what if the government, and therefore the laws, don't exist to protect the people it governs? If you are part of a larger empire, a colony, or a conquered land, the rules, the laws, and the bureaucracy would most likely be in place to benefit whoever is actually in charge. In a system such as this, the rule of law calculus is different. If you obey the law, you might avoid punishment but it is unlikely that you will be substantially better off. So, those who succeed are those who skirt the system enough to benefit themselves. Survival of the cleverest rule breakers.

In Matenadaran, the Armenian ancient manuscript museum, there are lots of maps dating back thousands of years. You see Armenia on maps with Assyria, ancient Greeks and Romans. It is often marked by an ark, the one that Noah crashed into Mt. Ararat. It is an old, old place with a storied history of great empires and crushing defeats and a distinct ethnic identity that has persisted throughout it all. But, for the last 1500 years or so, Armenians have not ruled themselves. First there were the Arabs, then the Byzantian empire, Seljuk, Mongols, Ottomans, and finally the Soviets. (thanks wikipedia!)

In some ways, 1989 was the first time in 1500 years that Armenians have been free to make their own law, without a ruling party looking over their shoulder. Of course this is a vast simplification, but I think it makes sense in some ways. Since the Russians left, Armenians have stepped into the role the ruling party that governs for their own benefit. The judiciary is a prime example. In significant cases, judges often wait to hear how they should rule from 'above.' Those that buck the trend are fired, without recourse.

So, promoting rule of law is about teaching case law, how to brief a case, strategies for questioning prosecution witnesses, but it is also about a deeper, paradigmatic shift.

ps On my walk to work this morning I saw a man shaving his nose hairs with a bic razor in the side mirror of his car while his wife sold vegetables out of the trunk. If you think this is weird, talk to my Armenian friend Alina who lived in a house in Gaithersburg, MD with roommates who were into 'furries.' If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you....

* This post, as all posts, consists of RHU musings only and should be taken with several large grains of salt. And maybe a fact check to boot.

Deep Thoughts

I just bought my Tbilisi-Istanbul ticket for August and one of the meal options was 'Low Protein.' Not vegetarian, there were three options for you guys- Indian vegetarian, Asian vegetarian or Vegan. But low protein. Who is this for? Dudes who had too much protein shake at the gym yesterday? Recovering anemics? Those who aren't superstitious, but just a little stictious?

There are lots of underpasses here, which is really nice because you can avoid crossing some street. This is a good thing because I swear it's like that 1980's videogame 'Frogger.' If you make it off the curb and all the way to the median, you are likely to get smushed in by the left hand turners.

Back to the underpasses, in the one I pass every day there are three tiny little offices. They sort of look like KGB interrogating rooms, with an empty desk, two chairs, and a single lightbulb dangling from the ceiling, but I've deduced that the first one is a for xeroxing and the second one is for something internet related. But the third one is a complete mystery. It is always darker than the others and has three chairs, a TV, and a little curtained off area. Every morning I walk by and there is someone different sitting in the chair, having coffee, watching TV, in house slippers. Sometimes it's an old woman, sometimes two, sometimes an old man. Ok, I guess they are all older. What is this place??? Rent a living room? I walk by at night and there's no one there so it's not a sleep over place. In my head you get up, start heading to work, realize you are an hour early, so what are you going to do? Rent a living room, that's what! Take your shoes off, have some coffee, maybe your morning cigarette, watch the news, you know.

A July Valentine

Dear man at the delivery joint who makes my sandwich,

I love you and think we should get married. You know me like few do. Every day I order ‘no fries’, and every day you do not send me a pile of fries, but instead sneak about 7 or 8 into the wrap. And not just any kind of fries! Crispy ones! I know you do this specially for me because I’ve had the menu translated and none of the wraps list ‘fries’ or ‘potatoes’ as an ingredient. It’s like you know that I can’t make myself order fries, but secretly I want some. So you loving bury them in the wrap amid the chicken and vegetables, knowing that I will find them and be happy. I especially appreciate this during these ugly days of the law journal Write On competition.

So thank you.

Love,
Becky

Ps This may be too much to ask but I will hope against all odds that you are taller than 5’7” or else our wedding pictures will be really awkward.

Becky Does the Dancing

I have a friend! Her name is Arpine and she is my Armenian teacher. She was co-opted into the both positions of Armenian teacher and RHU bff by my Russian teacher, Larissa Markovnah (Markovnah meaning 'son of Mark,' it's called her patronic name and it indicates respect). Arpine is incredibly sweet, patient and fun. She invites me to do all sorts of things with her friends and family. She is Larissa Markovnah’s deputy at the language school and oversees a group of 23 year old girls who are all English language teachers. We went to the zoo last weekend and they tried to teach me a bunch of words.

Me the English teachers. Arpine is next to me in orange.

Note the sad-looking camel with a floppy hump.

I remember three- artiv is eagle, kapack is monkey, and Dee is Horse. The zoo was really depressing, animals in very small cages, they all looked thin and sort of sick, and people kept throwing food at them. One of the baboons flipped out after a little girl hit it in the head with an apricot. He jumped on the bars and hissed with his huge teeth showing. Scared the pants off me!

Lots of meat. This picture not dedicated to my sister. That would be mean.

Arpine also has a great group of ‘yard’ friends. They all grew up in the same or neighboring buildings, hence the name. She invited me over to her house for dinner a couple weeks ago and the whole group came over to say hi. Last weekend Arpine invited me to go to her family’s country house for what can only be described as National Water Fight Day. It’s an Armenian holiday that is supposed to date back to pagan times and involves good luck if you ‘water’ someone. This gives everyone free reign to dump water on you all day long. We took a van out the country and had to close the windows because there were children lining the streets who would launch plastic bags filled with water into the windows of the van. That was actually kind of scary.

Armenian BBQ!

We got to the country house, which is the very modest place where he grandfather spends most of his time, and immediately began setting up for the famous Armenian Barbeque. It involves lots of bloody meat and skewers and smoke but boy is it good. The country house is a two story cement building surrounded by 40 feet of grape vines and fruit trees. When the BBQ was ready we set up a big table on the porch upstairs, poured the vodka, and ate. About ten minutes into eating the toasts began. To friendship, to Americans, to love, and finally, to beautiful sex. When I heard that one I choked on my cup full of vodka.

Arpine, Becky, Rubina- post toasts

A couple brief asides:
- Russian and Armenian generally do not use articles. It’s really nice when trying to learn the language, less nice when editing legal articles. I am forever inserting ‘the’ and ‘a’ and deleting awkwardly places ones.

- During one of my Armenian lessons, I made poor Arpine describe the way dating works here. Several times I’d asked her if two people were boyfriend/girlfriend and she assured me that they were ‘just doing the friendship.’ But then there was another situation in which one of her friends was angry at a guy with whom she had done the friendship for awhile and then he moved on to another girl. So clearly there’s something else implicated in this doing of friendship. Arpine explained that it encompasses everything from the initial expression of interest through group dates until the first kiss. Pretty much, if you are going to be doing any k-i-s-s-i-n-g, you better be ready for love, marriage and the proverbial baby carriage.

So back to the toast, one of Arpine’s cousins stood up and gave a toast, in English, to beautiful sex. I choked on my vodka again and I turned with big eyes to Arpine and she explained it was a toast for women, you know, the beautiful gender. Ahhhhha.

After barbeque we cleaned up, dumped some more water on each other, played cards, the cousins and friends tried out some English words on me, and I made them laugh my asking everyone their name and birthday (my only two Armenian sentences thus far). Then someone put on some Armenian music and Arsen decided to teach me how to dance. I wasn’t horrible but I also don’t think there will be any repeat performances. Arsen and I really hit it off and by the end of the night this cheeky lil pup was looking at pictures in my camera and referring to his mother and father in law.

Becky Does the Dancing

We had a second round of food with some absolutely amazing stewed lamb and more vodka and awkward toasts in English. Then a couple strolls up and down the street, fruit, cookies, and clean up. A really fun day.

A pretty view from the country house.

Undocumented Alien Bunnies

OK I have snapped. Driven mad by the heartless bunnies munching my baby lupins and the threat to our way of life, I have gone all “Lou Dobbs” on their asses and built “protective custody enclosures” to keep the bunnies out. If I can only catch one, I would interrogate it: Why can’t they stay in their own area? What’s so tasty about my lupins?

Diane in Tibet

We arrived in Llasa on the evening of July 3rd after a 24 hour train ride from Xining. The ride was a combination of hours of brown, dusty high plateau scenery and breathtaking snowcapped mountain peaks. We saw lots of yaks, wild Tibetan donkeys and sheep and hundreds of small collections of Tibetan tents, colorfully decorated and inhabited by sheep and yak herders. The time flew by for the most part, the exception being that I had about 6-7 hours of altitude sickness (headache, stomach ache, vomiting), which is not easy to manage when the quarters for 4-6 people are about the size of our bathroom at home. But that passed and I spent the time looking out the window at some pretty amazing sights, reading and talking. Our group consists of 26 very different people, half of whom are couples. I knew many of them before the trip. One week in, we are all getting along pretty well.

We arrived at 10 pm and were greeted by a flock of Chinese security. It seems we are one of the first groups to be let into the country after the March uprisings and the government is very worried about more protests. It is fascinating to hear the story of what happened from our guide who is Chinese and has the official government story of the uprisings.

We went immediately to the hostel which is run by the Chinese government. There we were greeted by at least half a dozen officials who also looked very worried but eager to impress us with their hospitality. Our rooms are pleasant and recently refurbished and the hotel staff is pleasant enough, but everyone around here seems tense and nervous.

Fourth of July! Yeah America!

Today we got a slow start...they are worried that the Americans will keel over and die from the altitude so they are continually telling us to walk slowly and rest often. In the morning we visited the Jokhang Temple, the most magnificent temple with hundreds of worshipers circling the building (clockwise). The sights, smell and sounds of the place were something to behold. There Tibetans circle the temple singing mantras, many lying prostrate on the ground chanting and praying to Buddha. They place yak butter in to keep the candles lit and the intense smell of incense is everywhere. The temple is filled with brilliant colors decorating each little chapel inside. This temple was built in 639 AD by the king Songsten Gampo. Steve, I thought of you hundreds of times today.

Have to leave to go see the Potala Palace now, but will send more tonight.

Love

Steve at JFK

I spoke with Steve briefly after he arrived at JFK from Serbia and before he got on his flight to Alaska, but haven't heard from him in the past couple days. Don't expect there will be much contact while he is in rural Alaska.

Terra Cotta Warriors

Good Morning!

This is the third day of overcast skies. I am afraid the sun doesn't shine here anymore! Last night it took us 35 minutes to get from the hotel to the restaurant which is about a mile away. We are in Xian, a city of about 7 million, where in 1974 a local farmer discovered what was to become the 8th wonder of the world. Ever since Steve was in 4th grade (or was it 5th?) and he did a report on the Terra Cotta Warriors, I have wanted to se this sight. And it was worth the wait! There are over 7,000 soldiers, hundreds of other statues including generals, archers, horses, chariots. All of this was built over 2 thousand years ago to help an emperor continue to rule in the afterlife. It is an amazing story.

Today we hike around the walled city of Xian and see some additional sights before boarding a plane to Xining where we will do some sightseeing and go to a lake before getting on the train to Tibet.

It is very difficult to find internet access for my computer and when I use a Chinese computer all the directions are in Chinese. But I will continue to try to bolg!

Love,

Mom

Lawn Weeds of the Lost Ark

There's really nothing happening here and to prove it, I 'd like to tell you about lawn weeds. There's a lot of love in gardening and yard care, but there's a lot of hate too. Cute little bunnies who eat the lupins I grew from seeds all last winter, Bambi and her marauding horde of munchers, bugs of all sorts, and now slugs that eat the coreopsis. I've got anti-bunny spray, anti-deer spray, netting, and fences arrayed against these innocent-looking monsters. And then there's the lawn, now being eclipsed by lawn weeds. There are chemicals, but my antipathy has not driven me to use them yet. Googling "organic lawn weed killer" turned up a number of brews that were largely vinegar, so I got some vinegar at the grocery store and have been spritzing biodegradable devastation far and wide. But the consensus advice is to pull the weeds (after scolding you for letting the lawn deteriorate this far), so I have been pulling lawn weeds. An inadvertent side-effect is that the pulling of the lawn weed drives worms crazy. I mean wacko, run-for-the -hills, worm stampede. They literally launch themselves out of the ground. Today I had three worms crawling through my toes, a mini-Indiana Jones nightmare. I haven't gone fishing in 50 years, but this new-found worm-acquisition technique makes it tempting.

Peter

Diane in China

The trip was uneventful once I got past the episode of the woman next to me vomiting all over herself, the seat, me, and the flight attendant. Not a good wat to start off a 14 hour journey! I landed mid afternoon, and a guide met me to take me4 to the hotel where I was able to leave my stuff befoe heading off to the Silk Market to meet the group. We then went to the foot massage place where, fro a mere $25, we were able to have 1 1/2 hour leg, foot, head and back massage. They even did this crazy thing where they cleaned your ears!!!!!!! Then to dinner at the Peking Duck restaurant. Today we are off to the Summer Palace, the Forbidden City, followed by an overnight train ride to Xian to see the Terra Cotta Warriors. I will write more later!

Di

We are on the train to xian. I got the top bunk! The train station was a bit scary. We had to run through thousands of people, about half of whom were lying on the ground on sheets of newspaper with huge piles of belongings in plastic bags. The sheer number of people was overwhelming and then running to catch a train made it even more exciting Right now we are enjoying a glass of wine in our cubicle and we are entertaining guests from nearby cubicles. Its an overnight trip and I,ve taken my tylenol pm . Nighty night!

Obamarama

I was walking in a park in New Belgrade yesterday, when I came across two older gentlemen sitting in an empty corner under a tree. As I walked by, they said something to me, and I explained that I couldn't speak Serbian, by not speaking Serbian, and they asked me if I was from London. When I said, no, I'm from closer to New York, they mentioned the name "Clinton," which, of course was the name of our president during the NATO bombing of Belgrade, and the word "malo," which, I'm pretty sure, does not mean "progressive reformer." I promptly gave the thumbs down sign to Clinton, and said... Obama? and both of them in unison, yelled, "Obamarama!"

Modern Art, Post Soviet Style

Up and coming artists often use old warehouses to showcase their work because they are big, empty spaces and usually come pretty cheap, or so I’m told. But if you are in Brooklyn or London, looking for an old warehouse, there’s a good chance the warehouse you find near the given address will be the gallery.

But in a former Soviet country that’s seen the economy disintegrate since its proletariat heyday, there’s a very good chance you might have picked the wrong abandoned building on a street full of them and are just a dumb American wandering around an empty warehouse. I’m just saying, it could happen.

I like to call this one, "The Carpetman Lean"

Until next week, when I will still be in Armenia...

Love, Becky

St. Hripsime Meets the Germans

Echmiadzin

Not to be a Negative Nancy but the driving culture is my least favorite part of Armenia. The driving is dangerous and fast and doesn’t seem to adhere to any set of pre-determined rules. Drivers here show absolutely no deference to pedestrians. If you are walking, it's your job to watch out for drivers taking rights on red, left turns-legal and not legal. Don’t get me started on the beeping. Yesterday I got beeped at for walking too slowly across the crosswalk.

Tower at Echmiadzin, the circles above the windows are faces and the one all the way to the right is that of a famous Prussian king. Some time ago the Armenians heard the Prussians were invading and destroying buildings as they went so quick thinking Armenian priests had stone carvers chisel the King of Prussia's face onto the church. When the Prussian army arrived the next day, the Armenians showed them the face and the disappointed Prussians admitted they could not destroy a church with their king's face on it.

But ANYWAYS, that was a long way to say I decided to take a tourist tour to see some local sites because I will never ever drive here. (Not that they’d want me to, but that’s neither here nor there.) We went to Echmiadzin, the Vatican of the Armenian Church. It’s a gorgeous old church, first built around 180 AD. Just in case ya didn’t know, Armenia was the first country in the world to formally adopt Christianity in 301 AD, which means the churches are a little older than those we have in Connecticut. The early Christians built it on top of a pagan shrine in a sort of bait-and-switch move to keep the people coming to the site. According to my guidebook, the shrine was left, “seemingly in situ in case this whole Christianity thing turned out to be a fad.” There were services going on in each of the churches but the services seem much more informal than others that I’ve seen. Again, the guidebook: “At Echmiadzin, everyone stands. There seems to be no rule about when you arrive or leave. People were still squeezing past us halfway through Mass, walking around, lighting candles, talking to friends. Actually, I think there’s something charming about it, like being in God’s living room."

Church Service Inside St. Gayane

Tombs outside St. Gayane

We also visited two nearby churches called St. Hripsime and St. Gayane. The churches commemorate two of 32 virgins nuns who left Rome to help bring Christianity to Armenia. They arrived and began preaching only to have the Armenian king fall in love with Hripsime. He demanded her hand in marriage. She said no because she had to remain true to her faith and the king killed all 32 nuns by stoning. Hripsime’s church was originally built in 618 on her gravesite. Gayane was the prioress of the nuns and her church was originally built sometime in the 6th century.

St. Hripsime

At St. Hripsime, they let you go down below the church and look at what is supposedly her grave. There’s a painted portrait of Hripsime on her tomb and you can also look at the rocks that were supposedly used to stone her to death. The room was about seven feet long by about five feet long and there were already ten people in it by the time I got there so I took a quick peek and head up for fresh air. Back outside, two of the men on the trip, a German child psychiatrist and a Swiss i-banker told me they thought I looked exactly like St. Hripsime. It’s a funny thing, you know, being compared to a second century nun who was stoned to death. I’ve decided to just accept it as a compliment.

Zvarnots, ancient monastery near the airport. Just peaking above the clouds you can see Mt. Ararat, where Noah's arc landed after the flood.

Victor the psychiatrist and Julian the i-banker turned out to be very nice, if a little crazy. I ran into them later in the week and we went to get a drink in one of the many cafes in Yerevan. Julian is very into two things: making money and reincarnation. We had to pass up several very nice cafes because they had ‘bad energy.’ Victor is aging hippie with an earring who vuld like the vorld to lif as vone organivm. They are going on a horseback riding tour of the Armenian wilderness, which at first I thought might be a little Brokeback adventure but the Victor told us all about his love affairs with beautiful women in remote European towns. It also turns out that Julian is the great grandson of one of the queens of Madagascar and is directly related to the dictator that was finally voted out when I was there in 2002.

Where naughty Christians go to get baptized

And finally, to ease everyone’s fears about the nuclear power plant situated directly on a fault line about 40 kilometers from Yerevan, Jorge the Czech nuclear plant safety management expert from the tour says, “Don’t worry about it.”

Old guy showing us the wine jugs he made when just a wee whippersnapper.

Diane Goes to China and Tibet!

Good Morning All!
I am leaving for Tibet this morning, The Chinese government is finally opening the borders to Tibet. I will let you know where I am and what I'm doing whenever I can get internet access. I arrive in Beijing on Saturday morning and will travel south to tibet over the next week with stops along the way. I leave Shanghai on July 12 to return home. Off to my adventure. My itinerary is belwo with the exception that I am arriving a day later than the rest of my group. Peng, our guide, is a friend from my previous trip to Shandong Province. He is a former official of the National Ministry of Education and he knows lots of officials and can negotiatie the Chinese system quite well. It should be a great trip.
Below you will see my itinerary.
Thursday, June 26Departure from Hartford to Beijing Friday, June 27Arrive Beijing in the late afternoonHotel in Beijing Saturday, June 28Tian’an’men Square, Forbidden City, Hutong Tour, Peking DuckHotel in Beijing Sunday, June 29Excursion to the Great Wall and Summer PalaceEvening train to Xi’anHotel on the train Monday, June 30Arrive Xi’an in the morningExcursion to the Terra-cotta Warriors MuseumDumpling Banquet with ShowHotel in Xi’an Tuesday, July 1Morning: Shanxi Provincial History Museum, City Wall and Old TownLunch in Muslim enclaveFree time in Xi'anHotel in Xi'an Wednesday, July 2Morning flight to LhasaRest and free time in LhasaHotel in Lhasa Visit Thursday, July 3Visit Potala Palace, Jokang Monastery and Barkhor StreetHotel in Lhasa Friday, July 4Visit schools in TibetHotel in Lhasa Saturday, July 5Drive to Shigatse, sightseeing of lakes and glacier mountains along the wayHotel in Shigatse Sunday, July 6Morning: Visit Tashilhunpo MonasteryDrive back to Lhasa from another roadVisit a school if time permitsVisit local Tibetan people's home on the wayHotel in Lhasa Monday, July 7Morning: Take the train leaving for LanzhouOn the train sightseeing of Tibetan landscapeOvernight sleep on trainHotel in Lanzhou Tuesday, July 8Arrive Lanzhou around noonCity tour in Lanzhou: Visit Lanzhou Museum and Yellow RiverHotel in Lanzhou Wednesday, July 9Fly to Shanghai in the morningBund area and Nanjing RoadBoat Cruise on Huang Pu River in the eveningHotel in Shanghai Thursday, July 10Morning: Visit Shanghai Museum, City tour in Shanghai (Old Town, Yu Garden)Afternoon: Free time in ShanghaiHotel in Shanghai Friday, July 11Excursion to Suzhou, an old garden city near Shanghai: Gardens, Boat Cruise on Old Grand Canal, Old Town, Silk FactoryHotel in Suzhou or Shanghai Saturday, July 12Departure from Shanghai back to the U.S.Arrive in the U.S. on the same day

montenegro and croatia

Hello family,
I'm back in Belgrade after five days in Montenegro and Croatia on the coast, which was beautiful and sunny. We were in Budva for most of the time, exploring the coast and the old town there. The sense of history everyone has here is incredible, everyone has an understanding of, say, the last five hundred years, and is able to tell the story of how they've arrived as a group, at the present.
anyways, here are some nice pictures I took this weekend.