Christmas in America

My trip to America began at the Yerevan airport baggage check.
“Your bag is too heavy. You have to put it in two bags.”
“But I don’t have two bags,” I said, upset at the inconvenience, but not really caring as I was on my way to America. That sentiment was doing a good job of overriding everything else. At least until I ran into the lovely Armenian customer service.
“Well, its two heavy, it has to be in two bags.” Says the woman behind the counter in stilted English.
“I understand that, but I don’t have two bags. I just have this one.”
“Well, then you have to pay.”
This, I assumed…. “Okay,” I say “How much is the fee.”
“I don’t know, I have to check.”
I guess this doesn’t happen too often, I think as I wait for the woman to saunter back. At four in the morning nobody seems to be in too much of a hurry. Not that they probably ever are.
“The fee is 25 dollars,” says the woman I have been talking to, and then promptly goes back to fiddling with my tickets. I say okay, which is met by a blank stare, and then a few minutes later she asks “so you are going to pay?” No, I am going to put half of this suitcase into my imaginary other bag. Yes, I am going to pay.
“Do I pay you?”
“Hold on, I have to ask,” she says leaving the counter once again. Sigh. All of my traveling companions are finished by now. “You have to go up there,” she says, pointing to a small office door on the floor above us.
“Okay, do I leave my bags here?” I ask, getting impatient now.
“Yes, here are your tickets, your boarding pass is inside.” At this, I leave flustered, only to get 100 yards away to hear “wait, you forgot your boarding pass.”
I head up the stairs to the door that was pointed out to me. The Austrian Airlines office. I enter the small room, resembling a closet, with two clustered desks and a woman sitting at the further one. The room is filled with cigarette smoke and a smaller back room is housing with what I presume to be lost luggage. I offer up a quick prayer that my suitcase doesn’t join the ranks of these. One trip here is enough. Finally it is my turn. The woman at the desk looks at me quizzically.
“I have to pay the overweight fee,” I say, barely masking my frustration.
“Its 25 dollars,” she says, and so I open my wallet and hand her 25 dollars. She looks at the money and then at me. “It has to be in drams.”
“Well, then how much is it in drams?” I ask, my frustration no longer masked. I don’t care. She tells me and I pay the fee and leave, this time nearly convinced that my luggage isn’t coming to America with me.

I join my friends in the line for security and customs. Security was a breeze, and after the woman at customs looked at me and then at my passport and then at me and then at my passport, and then at me…..at least six or seven times, we were ready to sit in uncomfortable chairs for the next hour. We passed the time eating fruit and comparing the airport to a spaceship from Star Wars until we were approached by one the airport employees. Walking directly up to my friend Chris, she says “I need your boarding pass.” I don’t think she even asked his name. When Chris asked why she said “we have changed your seat. Chris says “okay, but why?” She responds “the representative told me to,” gives him his new boarding pass and walks away. We were left to ponder who the representative was….

The remainder of the trip was fairly uneventful, and 24 hours later I arrived in Chicago on the same day…exhausted. The trip was short and sweet, but I managed to see and do almost everything that I had planned. Two weeks, a few movies, a lot of relatives, some Mexican food and a lot of good coffee later, I found myself boarding a plane back to this side of the world. Once again, I had a 13 hour layover in Vienna, giving me time to head into the city. Unfortunately, it was cold, windy and snowy, and after walking for about a block I decided that sitting in a café sounded nice. I sipped a Viennese coffee, ate a fruit torte and contemplated what the next week or so would have in store for me. I am not sure I could have ever fully prepared myself.

I arrived in Armenia at 4:45 am on New Year’s eve. I was blessed to have a fellow volunteer meet me at the airport with a taxi thus negating the need to immediately speak all of the Armenian I had forgotten while in the US. We stayed at the hostel that day and went out to celebrate New Year’s in Yerevan that evening. We found the streets mostly bare, and the few open bars the same. We rang in the New Year at one of our favorite establishments with a total of 5 Peace Corps Volunteers, two bar tenders, and two other Armenians. I left around 1:30 or 2am. I am told that it picked up considerably after that. Apparently Armenians stay with their families and then go out later. We did have the privilege of walking through Republic square, where there was a giant artificial Christmas tree, several people dressed as Santa, about 30 of those machines with the claw where you try to grab a stuffed animal, and pony rides…right through the middle of all the people. Later that evening three Coca-cola trucks with Christmas lights showed up. Eclectic, I know.