Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in aregjan's LiveJournal:

[ << Previous 20 ]

Tuesday, April 24th, 2012
10:37 am	В Армянских Горах Не легок был путь, полночный наш путь... Но выжили мы Средь горя и тьмы: Веками идем, чтоб в выси взглянуть, В армянских горах, В суровых горах. Сокровище дум издревле несем, — Что море, оно Душой рождено, Народной душой в пути вековом, В армянских горах, В высоких горах. Из светлых пустынь кидались на нас Орда за ордой; Разили бедой, Весь наш караван терзая не раз В армянских горах, В кровавых горах. Ограблен, разбит был наш караван... Разрознен средь скал, Дорогу искал, Считая рубцы бесчисленных ран, В армянских горах, В печальных горах. И наши глаза взирают с тоской На сумрак земли, На звезды вдали: Ну, скоро ли утро вспыхнет зарей В армянских горах, В зеленых горах?! Ованес Туманян. Перевод Н. Сидоренко (Comment on this)
Monday, April 9th, 2012
3:59 pm	El cabeceo in tango In the recent few months there has been lots of talk in various tango circles about the supposed benefits of the use of cabeceo (the use of eye contact and various head nods to signal invitations on the dance floor). In various Boston tango milongas and tango related forums people have lauded cabeceo as a great way to invite and to be invited. So here I would like to go over the stated advantages of cabeceo vis a vis the standard invitation technique, and then debate the possible downsides of this method. The proponents typically provide these arguments in favor of cabeceo: 1.   "Cabeceo allows for mutuality -- some women will say 'yes' not because they want to dance with you, but because they don't want to say 'no.'" Cabeceo is hardly the only, or even the best way to achieve mutuality. Assuming that we're all adults, we all can learn how to say "no," or how to accept a "no." Furthermore -- if one doesn't know how to say(or take) a "no," then cabeceo only serves as the rug to sweep the real problem under. I would even give it a harder crack and say that if a man doesn't know how to take a "no" then he should be _forced_ to, over and over and over, thus either learning how to be cool about it or leave tango altogether (to be clear:  very few, if any, of my fellow tango dancers fall in this category). 2.  "It saves the man the embarrassment of rejection." Embarrassment? Really?? Is there anything that defines a man's confidence  better than the ability to take a "no" gracefully and move on without getting hung up about it? Besides, a dismissive cabeceo is still a very clear rejection. Perhaps not as obvious as "Hell no!", but still quite an obvious one. Here I have to step back and admit that the issue of embarrassment is not entirely baseless. You see, in many parts of the world (including in my native Armenia) there's no bigger humiliation for a man than being publicly rejected by a woman. If that happens, you can be guaranteed a month's worth of ridicule and teasing from your drinking buddies. So, I can totally see why this can be an issue in Argentina. Despite all the confusion and awkwardness that cabeceo engenders it was selected precisely to avoid the much bigger problem of Argentine women having to choose between humiliating a stranger and an undesired dance. Yet, we are not in Argentina. We are in the USA. Where most men are quite ok taking "no" without getting mortally offended (this may partially be because they _have_ no drinking buddies to be teased by:)). Which is where we get to the pivotal maxim: do not blindly adopt foreign customs simply because they seem cool to you. A custom in society A may be perfectly well suited, yet may be totally out of place -- even ridiculous -- in society B. Just because it works for Argentinians doesn't mean that it has to work for us. 3. "Since either the leader or the follower can initiate it, cabeceo actually allows women to invite men, without having to break the social taboos." This is the best argument so far in favor of cabeceo. I've always found it to be deeply unfair that men get all the initiative when it comes to deciding who dances with whom. Cabeceo makes the process of invitations symmetric -- either the woman or the man can initiate the contact. In fact, I'll speculate that this is the major (unstated) reason why many ladies prefer cabeceo. But then -- wouldn't it be much, MUCH simpler to altogether abandon the antiquated patriarchal taboo that bans women from inviting? Wouldn't _that_ be a step up! It's 2012 you know, not 1912! So far we limited ourselves to the stated advantages and benefits listed by cabeceo proponents. Now, let's debate some of the most obvious limitations. 1. Cabeceo can be confusing and awkward. It involves staring across the hall to a potential partner, and then having to do a massive guesswork -- is she looking back at you, or at the person next to you? Is she just greeting you, or is this an actual response? How do you tell her "hi" without it being interpreted as a cabeceo? 2. If this is someone that you do not know, is she looking away because she doesn't want to dance, or because she is simply unaware of cabeceo and expects people to walk up to her? Because if its the later, then nobody is going to ask her to dance.  And beginners -- precisely those that need to dance the most -- will be hit the hardest.   Clearly, cabeceo works only if _everyone_ is following it, while the standard technique will work in any environment (assuming people are courteous and polite). 3. Exacerbating the problem with visual contact is the fact that many of the tango floors are rather wide, making it rather hard (even for someone with a 25/20 vision like me) to make a meaningful visual contact. And if your eyesight is less than ideal, and if the dance floor is dimly illuminated (as is the case most of the time), then good luck figuring out what's going on. 4. Many of us go to tango not only to dance, but also to chat with our friends. Yet pleasant chit-chat doesn't mean that we do not want to invite or be invited. With the standard technique one can always maintain small talk while remaining open to invitations. With cabeceo, however, the invitee (man or a woman -- remember, cabeceo is a 2-way street) has to choose: either they scan the floor with their eyes, indicating willingness to invite or accept invitation, or they chat, but hardly both. 5. Many beginners have hard time following and keeping track of the myriad of the various rules that come with tango, and may find that the cabeceo is yet another joy kill, discouraging them to the point where they give up their pursuit of an already demanding activity. 6. To extend the previous problem, I hear many young people say that tango is "granddad's dance," and that they rather dance salsa or other less constrained dances, where the rules are simple and people are friendly. Cabeceo only exacerbates this problem and adds to the stereotype of tango being a "tradition-obsessed people's dance." Do we really want this? 7. People pursue tango because they find it fun. Loading the dance with stifling rules and artificial formalisms of marginal benefit will only serve to negate its authentic beauty and natural appeal. 8. Many members of our society suffer from autism of various severity. Mild forms of autism are a lot more common than most people think.  One of the main symptoms of autism is the difficulty of initiating and maintaining eye contact. Some of these folks may want to join the tango scene. However, by demanding that they use eye contact as the primary mode of communication  we effectively tell them that they are not welcome among us.  This is clearly not what we want. While I do use cabeceo when I have to, I dislike it and much rather prefer the clarity of a simple yes or no. That said, elements of cabeceo are ubiquitous in all social settings: eye contact is an important non-verbal communication protocol, on or off the dance floor.  We all practice that, cabeceo or no cabeceo, and obviously I am not against this. I am however against attempts to formalize this into a binding rule. Let us allow things to occur naturally and organically, rather than trying to impose them as yet another "important rule." (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, January 4th, 2012
11:31 am	Fishing under ice from Juuso Mettälä on Vimeo. (Comment on this)
Monday, December 26th, 2011
12:56 am	I wish I had seen this on time for this discussion. Dear friends who claim that they are marginalized by public celebrations of Christmas, as a practicing atheist I too find your accusations silly and ludicrous. I don't love you any less for that, in fact I wish you all a very Merry Christmas. :)) (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, November 10th, 2011
10:43 am	iWoz in Armenia (Comment on this)
Wednesday, October 26th, 2011
1:36 am	Կարդացի Բյուրի գրածը, ու մտածեցի․․․ Ես ծանոթ եմ եղել թուրքերի (շատ), որոնք չնայած «կասկածներ» են արտահայտել եղեռնի հարցով, այնուամենայնիվ բացեիբաց շատ դրական վերաբերմունք են ցուցաբերել իմ ու ընդհանրապես հայերի նկատմամբ։ Ծիպը, «ե՞րբ ենք իսկականից բարիշելու»։ Նաև գիտեմ թուրքերի, որոնց միակ «պաշտպանությունը» այն է, թե՝ իրենց պապերը «անընդունակ» են այդպիսի ոճրագործության։ Այսինքն՝ իրենք ներսում լավ էլ հասկանում են թե ինչ է եղել, բայց իրենց համար խորը անտանելի է այն միտքը որ իրենց պապերը իսկապես այդպիսի բան կարող են արած լինել։ Անգլերեն կոչվում է՝ to be in denial. Բայց ես նաև ծանոթ եմ եղել թուրքերի, որոնք ինձանից ներողություն են խնդրել իրենց պապերի արածների համար։ Թուրքերի, որոնք ինձ հարցնելով թե արդյոք ես իրենց ատում եմ ու ստանալով բացսական պատասխան, ասել են թե՝ «բա, էն այլանդակություններից հետո որ մենք ձեզ ենք արել, բա ո՞նց մեզ չատես»։ Բոլորը, իհարկե, կրթված մարդիկ են եղել։ Ես գիտեմ որ հայ շրջանակներում կամ ոմանք, որոնք այս ամենը որակավորում են ընդամենը որպես պանթյուրքական դավադրության մի օպերատիվ ճյուղ։ Որ այս վերոհիշյալ մարդիկ մի մեծ, մեծ պլանի զինվորներ են ու այսպիսի բարիշեու խոսքերով մեզ ուզում են «քնեցնել»։ Բայց ես այդպիսի բութ, տափակ դավերի գոյությանը չեմ հավատում։ Ես իհարկե չեմ դիտում թուրք ազգը որպես մեր «ախպեր տղեք» ու հասկանում եմ որ կան լիքը դժվարություններ։ Բայց, միաժամանակ, ես ամեն թուրքի տեսնում եմ որպես անհատ անձ։ (4 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, October 12th, 2011
11:49 pm	գրենք հայերեն Հայեր ջան, եկեք գրենք հայերեն։ Հայերեն տառերով։ Ինչու՞ է սա այսքան դժվար։ Ինչու՞ է ինտերնետում հայերի մեծամասնությունը շփվում ռուսերեն, իսկ մնացածը գրում լատինատառ, ու էն էլ հայա-ռուսա-անգլիախառը, ու այնպիսի գեշ քերականական սխալներով․․․ Իսկապե՞ս դա այդքան դժվար է։ Ծուլանու՞մ ենք։ Ու եթե մենք չենք ուզում գրել/խոսել հայերեն, կարդալ հայ գրականություն/քնարերգություն, իմանալ հայ պատմությունը․․․ապա ասացեք ինձ՝ ինչու՞մն է կայանում մեր հայությունը։ «Թուրքերի մաման» ու «Ո՛չ օտարալեզու դպրոցներին» գոռգռալո՞վ։ Էսքա՞նը։ Վե՞րջ։ Չեմ ուզում ոչ մեկին ոչնչում մեղադրել։ Չեմ ուզում մարդկանց խելք սովորեցնել։ Ուղակի ինձ ցավալի է տեսնել թե ինչ է կատարվում։ (12 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, October 2nd, 2011
1:04 pm	Էս Անջելա Սարգսյանի պատմության մեջ մեկ բան չեմ հասկանում բնավ․․․բա տենց գեղեցիկ հայ կինը էդ աստիճան տգեղ գյադու հետ քնի՞։ Բա դա նամուս ա՞։ Վրդովված եմ և բարկացած։ (Comment on this)
12:35 am	Ժողովուրդ, էս ադամանդը նոր հայտնաբերեցի․ http://chtesutyun.arnet.am/ Էսի՞նք սքանչելի կայք ա։ Ո՞վ է այն գրում։ (5 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, September 30th, 2011
5:13 pm	Հայերենում սիրածս բառերը․ հիրավի, փաստորեն, բնավ, իսկի, ահավասիկ։ Հապաղել։ Խոստանում եմ ավելի հաճախ գործածել այն։ Հիրավի։ (Comment on this)
Monday, September 26th, 2011
3:51 pm	старый анекдот Вопрос армянскому радио: как бороться против хвостатых грызунов которые перегрызли оптико-волокновый кабель в Грузии, ведущий интернет-связь в Армению? Ответ: во первых не хвостатые, а усатые...во вторых не грызуны, а грузины...а в третьих -- не бороться а уничтожать!! (Comment on this)
Monday, September 19th, 2011
2:17 pm	La France -- the first month La France -- the first month (continued from here) When we landed at the Charles de Gaul airport it was too dark to see anything, and Shooshan (my sister) and I were too tired to notice much. I only remember my father's hug at the airport, his announcement that unremitting peer pressure from his French colleagues has caused him to quit smoking (!!), and the shiny and surrealistically (you are gonna hear this word a lot) clean buses and commuter rail trains that took us home. I also remember our first impressions of stepping into our rental apartment -- a delicious concoction of comfort and bright colors, as if straight from an Alen Delon movie. When we woke up in the morning, we started studying our surroundings. Our appartment was on the 4th floor of a building, located in the cute burgeois suburb of Palaiseau. See the google street view below -- it's that white building. You can also look around to see the beautiful rural houses built from colorful volcanic rock. A street view of our neighborhood. One of Palaiseau's streets, where we went shopping. Our building was on the edge of a little forested park, which had a 19th century chateaux at its center. On our first outing to Paris we quickly realized that our Soviet made gray-shaded clothing made us stand out dramatically in the background of colorful and stylish appearance of the locals. To the Parisians we probably looked like some convicts who just escaped from a Soviet gulag. The first few weeks after our arrival were spent in a party atmosphere. My father took two weeks from his generous French 8 week vacation plan. We first visited the University where he was working, and got introduced to his co-workers, including to Mdme Aline Grouille. We then got invited to dinner parties to his coworkers' what at the time seemed like royal residences*. We got to met Mdme Aline Grouille and her family at their home. Most spoke a bit of English, so we weren't entirely lost. There were two things that were always difficult to get used to. The first one was everyone's habit to kiss four times on the cheek as part of a hello. The second -- everyone's tendency to be so smiley, polite and accommodating that it felt borderline embarrassing, and the only thing you could do was keep repeating, like an idiot, "Merci monsieur! Merci madame! Merci monsieur! Aaaah, 'demoiselle, merci, merci mademoiselle!!" During those few weeks we also kept on making frequent outings to Paris. Now dressed in some decent clothes we didn't feel so out of place. But we were still constricted when it came to finding directions and communicating. At some point my father decided that the party is over, and that we all neede to start learning the language for real. Full immersion style. So, he gave us money, and some basic instructions on how to get to Paris and back. As part of these instructions we were supposed to go to the train station, to the ticket office, and my mother was going to state "Je voudrais trois billets a Paris, s'il vous plais" (I would like to have three tickets to Paris, please). The hope was that there would be no questions or comments, that we would get our round-trip tickets and that we would be off to enjoy the cultural capital of Europe. Of course it didn't work that way. As we got to the ticket office, my mother passed the money to the lady behind the counter, and uttered, in a frail voice: Mom: Je voudrais...trois billets...a Paris? S'il vous plait? Ticket master: some twittering in French Mom: Eeeeh.... Ticket master: some more surprised twittering in French Mom, all confused: Да...да...билеты нужны, три билета надо! Ticketter: utterly confused look, more of that rapid fire French Mom: Հա էլի, ասում եմ, չորս տոմս տվեք գնաք, յա՜․․․։ A moment of silence, when the French ticket-master and mom stare at each other, in what seems to be a never-ending Armenian-French blinking contest. Finally, my mother composes herself, and thunders out: Mom: JE VOUDRAIS! TROIS BILLETS! A! PARIS! S'il vous plait? Ticket master: Ah oui, trois billets! Voila madame! The poor woman was probably asking whether we wanted one way or round trip...and at the end used the tendered sum to figure out that it was in fact a round trip. My first impressions of Parisian life could only be described as surreal. As an adult you perceive and analyze the new environment, and get over it rather quickly. But for a child things work very differently. Here I am, in Paris, which I had previously seen only in the malfunctioning b/w screen of our 1965 TV set. I have a 19th century chateaux right outside of my home, and I live on a street named Rue Maximilien Robespierre! There's the actual Effel Tower, the actual Louvre, that seem to have floated up from the pages of my history books. We grew up thinking that we will probably never see this. Is this all real, or a figment of my imagination? And why is everyone around me -- including my own Armenian father -- speaking in...fluent French?! I grew up in a city where most everyone spoke one language, dressed, behaved and made sure to sound similar. And now here I am in a city where everyone dresses, looks, and talks so differently...here you can see central African women, pitch-black as a moon-less night, with shaved heads and dressed in brightly colorful, baggy clothes...there you see the Algerians, with multiple wives, all of them covered head-to-toe, gesticulating wildly and talking loudly in Arabic...Scandinavians, with their unbelievably blonde, transparent, hair...Asians, of various skin colors. For someone who has grown up in a cultural tundra, it was like landing overnight into a rich, colorful tropical jungle. All of this was so unusual, so magical, that if a unicorn were to show up and start telling me randy jokes I would probably not be surprised. And if François Mitterrand himself were to show up in a pink tutu on my balcony I would have probably just told the old guy to get back to his work at the presidential palace. For a kid, all this amounts to some hallucinatory, magic-realistic experience. Some mix of reality and fantasy, where it's hard to keep track of the real, and where the fantasy is part of the real. I still clearly remember that dense haze in my head as I was staring around me on those first days. Another very important piece of my impressions from my French experience was that of the opposite gender. And what an opposite gender! All blonde (rarely found in Armenia), and dressed in what at the time I considered as provocative clothes. Interestingly, my 14 year old female peers were different: dressed in baggy, torn jeans, they all smoked and went about cursing heavily and behaving in an intentionally masculine manner. An enormous difference from their Armenian female counterparts -- who all dressed in long, equally ugly black skirts, spoke timidly, and at that age were all into imitating their mothers' behaviors and mannerisms. Curiously, by the time the French girls matured up and became about eighteen, they all quit smoking and cursing, and started to dress in a dramatically feminine manner. Coming from a society where sexuality, and any expression thereof is of used to be of highest taboo***, in the beginning I didn't know whether to blush and look away or to stare wildly (I ended up doing more of the later). Things would get particularly embarrassing when, in some public place, a couple would suddenly start to make out heavily. And most passerbies didn't seem to even notice or care!** Bah oui monsieur, ici c'est la France. (to be continued) *this is one of the significant distinctions between European and American workplaces. In Europe the social aspect plays a great role at the workplace. Coworkers get together for dinner parties and other events all the time, they know each others' families and kids etc. In the US (especially in North East) you can spend 3 years working in a company, and never know anything about your coworkers, let alone their families. **This, again, is a very significant difference between the European and American lifestyles. While Americans fret over the appropriateness of "public expression of affection," the Europeans and French in particular have no problem engaging in public expression of affection Uninhibited Lust. Even in a highly Christian society as Italy, sexuality just doesn't seem to be a bid deal. ***It's important to note that things have changed significantly in Armenia in this regards. However back in 1991 it would have been for example unimaginable for a girl to admit that she had had sex before marriage. (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, September 16th, 2011
9:59 am	Séjour français and "coming to America" Every immigrant at some point in their life has to write a teary, heart-wrenching story on how he/she came to this country, how he/she saw the Ellis Island and broke into tears, etc etc. So, after the discussions in my previous posts and in mamaracha's journal, I decided that this is that time for me. However, I have two stories to tell: how we first moved to France; and then how we came to the US. My purpose is to compare and contrast the two experiences, and I am going to try and avoid the excessive pathos that seems to always be part of such stories. Since the story is so long, I am going to post in in pieces. Most of this is really for my own memories. ================================== The Trip to France Back in 1990, when the great empire of USSR was approaching its demise, my nuclear physicist father got an invitation to fill a visitor scientist position at Université Paris-Sud, in the suburbs of Paris. He quickly accepted, and left for Paris in August of 1990. I was 13, and my sister was 12. It would take us awhile to join him: the Soviet "OVIR" bureaucracy was a torture, only comparable to the American INS (or whatever that horrible office's current name is) in its Kafkaesque proceduralism. But, finally, six moths later we got the permission from the Soviet authorities to travel to France. So on a cold January day we packed our bags, bought one way Yerevan-Moscow tickets, and caught a flight to the Soviet capital, where we were to get our French visas. In Moscow we stayed with some distant relatives: they shared their 1 bedroom apartment with my mother, my sister and I. Now days this sounds crazy -- 6 people crammed in a ~700sq. ft apartment for 2 weeks -- but back then it was nothing out of ordinary. Armenians have a rather demanding code of hospitality, and overall are always very eager to have guests. While waiting for our visa, my mother, who knew Moscow pretty well from her youth days, tried to take us to as many interesting places as possible. The memories that I have of that stay in Moscow were that of an extremely cold and windy city, total lack of mountains (which, coming from Armenia, was a borderline shocking sight), very interesting museums, the hustle and bustle of Arbat, and crowds of otherwise introverted, anonymous people. Finally, my mother was invited for an interview at the French consulate. A French bureaucrat at the consulate told my mother, in a broken Russian, that our travel to France was conditional on our father being physically present there (in France), and that their documents indicate that he was not in France. :0 !!! The conversation that followed went along these lines: Mom: What?! Madame, did I hear you right?! I called my husband yesterday at his Parisian number, he IS in Paris! Bureaucrat: No, Madame, c'est pas possible. In order to travel to France, your husband was required to undergo urine tests. We do not have the results of his urine tests. Which means that we would have NEVER have stamped a visa into his passport. Which means that he could have not entered the French Republic. Mom: ??? !!! ??? !!! What do you mean?? I showed you a color photocopy of his passport, with French Visa boldly stating "La République Française" on it! I have documents showing that you granted him the visa and that he did in fact travel there!! There are crowds of French people at his workplace that will confirm in French that he is physically present in la République! Bureaucrat: Madame, impossible. No urine tests, no visa. Which means that we cannot grant you your visa either. Sorry madame, your visa application is denied. Next person in line! That evening my mother would give us a short summary of Kafka's "Trial". It's hard do describe our state of mind after the above exchange. Here we are, after 6 months of battling the Soviet bureaucracy, stuck in Moscow, being denied a French visa simply because our dad didn't piss in a cup before sneaking into the glorious République Française!! Talk about the theater of absurd! And we spent all these years badmouthing the Soviet bureaucratic system*, huh.... We called my father. After hearing what happened, he stormed the office of Mdme Aline Grouille, the secretary who was responsible for our paperwork, and threw a massive Armenian fit. My family is stuck in Moscow! Your consul is a moron! Մի բան արա, ջանիդ մատաղ, do something!! Aline, in her turn, called the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and threw a fit of her own. Les enfants du Monsieur Danagoulian ne mangent pas six jours, please do something!! That worked**. We got a call from the consulate few days later, and the same @#$%@ who denied us the visa stamped it into my mother's passport with no questions asked (talk about being a surrender monkey). Yiiihaaa! La France, here we come!! (to be continued) *it would take me three stays in three other countries -- France, US and Italy -- to realize that most gov.'t bureaucrats are what they are no matter where you go: just a bunch of dimwitted failures with a never ending power trip. Sure, there are lots of truly hardworking and conscientious people among them, like Aline Grouille, however the majority are not worth the gunpowder of the bullet. **After this ordeal, when it all worked out, my father went to Aline with flowers and presents, to thank her for her fantastic work. She told him that she was so worried and so stressed, that at some point she was unable to sleep at night: her worried husband would walk around their bed at 2am in the morning, going "But who is this Monsieur Danagoulian who is keeping you from sleeping at nights?!?!" (10 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, September 15th, 2011
10:24 pm	Found this really interesting article on NYT about three American kids trying to adapt to a Russian school in Moscow. Naturally, this reminded me somewhat of my and my sister's experience when we started attending a French school in Paris, at the age of 14 and 12, with zero prior knowledge of French. My feelings and sensations, however, were very different from the ones described in the article. The author tells of his kids being literally traumatized by the experience of being thrown into an environment where they couldn't understand anything. Tears, refusal to go to school, etc etc...Admittedly, while I spoke no French, some of my classmates did speak a bit (just a bit) of English. So, sure, we were not *entirely* lost. But even then, the experience of suddenly being dropped in a completely different society was so overwhelmingly exciting, that in the beginning we tended to be perfectly happy to just smile and nod. So what if we looked silly: there were so many new, exciting things going on around us -- kids _biking_ to school, wearing all kinds of colorful clothes (in big contrast to the gray tones ubiquitous in USSR), people of various races, etc etc -- that we were too busy to worry about appearances. I mean -- if you were to land on Mars and meet aliens, would you be worrying about your self image, or would you be entirely taken up by the desire to perceive and absorb the new experience? It took my sister and I about 6 months and 1 year respectively to become entirely fluent in French. I don't think I've ever had so much fun in my life. So why are our stories so different? For us France was like a great opening. A door to a New World, a world which was forbidden to us before that. Paris was a beautiful city full of color, some of it extravagant and outright bizarre, inhabited by people who seemed to be always happy and never grumpy. This and it's mythical landmarks made the whole place like an enchanted city. I suppose this is how Alice felt in the Wonderland. We as kids were ready for anything in order to become part of it. You can hardly say this for the three Americans to traveled to Russia. In their own words, before they moved there to them Russia was nothing but a really cold country, where children were mistreated by harsh teachers (not untrue). In this case any additional levy that you have to pay seems to be a part of a damnation, rather than the ticket to some sort of a childhood paradise. The happy ending is that despite all this the kids still managed to adapt to their new place, and overall did extremely well. Something tells me that in the future they will never be afraid of taking up a challenge, no matter how great or frightening. UPDATE: After my dialog with Sasha, below, I decide to post a summary of my experiences going to France and "coming to America." France -- a) I spoke no French at arrival b) it was a happy time for all of us, we were in a really cool, new place c) I made lots of friends very quickly...most of them I could hardly understand, but they still invited me to their birthdays and get togethers Results: from a period of 1.5 years of our stay in Paris I am literally unable to find a single "bad memory." America -- a) I spoke ok English (we had good English teachers back in Yerevan); b) there was lots of stress at home because my father was disappointed with his position at the university; c) I couldn't make any friends at the school, despite my knowledge of English (the language is not the problem!) -- mostly due to Southern wariness of "outsiders" and general high school social dynamics. Result: my first year in the US was anything like the one we experienced in France, and only when I finally moved to a university did thinks look up. (6 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, June 16th, 2011
5:07 pm	How I spend my workday This morning on my way to work I stop at a stop light, and some three guys in the car next to me roll down their windows and start yelling "CHARAAAAA!" me: WTF? "What's the problem?" them: "You look like Chara, with your beard and all..." me: "Who the hell is Chara?" them: *surprised* "You don't know Chara?? The Bruins guy! They won Stanley Cup!!" me: "Aaaah, hokey fans, huh..." So I tell this story to my coworkers. Sure enough they ask me to pose. Then they splice the photos together and send it to the whole company. :)) (10 Comments |Comment on this)
Monday, May 9th, 2011
3:51 pm	Today is a triple holiday for the Armenians: a)  Victory Day -- unconditional capitulation of Nazi Germany b)  Armenian victory at the pivotal  Battle of Shushi, in 1992, during the Karabakh War.   c)  Day of Karabakh's Self Defense Army.   (Comment on this)
Wednesday, April 13th, 2011
2:15 pm	Two days ago National Geographic published a story about Armenia's only nuclear power station, Metsamor -- http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/energy/2011/04/110412-most-dangerous-nuclear-plant-armenia/ The article has triggered many discussions among Armenians about the safety of the plant, and has raised worries about the repercussions of a possible nuclear accident there.  The worries are of course legitimate, however the real question is this:  our lives are full of risks, including catastrophic ones, so how does the risk of a nuclear accident at the plant and its results compare to the risks that the Armenians are already exposed to?  And what are the benefits of the plant, how do they balance the risks? In general discussions of risks are only useful when compared to some accepted and/or unavoidable "risk baseline."  To the irreducible risk, if you will. I.e. if we close the plant, will that significantly diminish the overall risk? To answer this questions I am considering one major catastrophic risk that everyone in Armenia has to live with:  a massive, devastating earthquake.  An example of such an earthquake is the one that took place at Spitak on Dec. 7th on 1988, killing about 50 000 people, i.e. 1.5% of Armenia's total population.  I am not a seismologist, however given known information about earthquake damage to Armenian medieval monuments I would guess that this is a 1 in a 500 year event, at the very least (people can correct me).  Ignoring other catastrophic risks (such as a new genocide from Turkey or Azerbaijan), lets use this as our "baseline risk": probability:  ~ 1/500 years. outcome:  ~ 50 000 deaths.  In statistical language the total impact of the risk is measured in the expectation of mortality.   The expectation for this event is  50000 * 1/500 = 100 deaths/year.  So: <earthquake> = 100 deaths/year This number is very rough of course.  The mortality will be way higher if the earthquake were to strike Yerevan, or if the earthquake were to be more powerful.  However it's a good starting point, in terms of order of magnitude. What are the equivalent numbers for the Metsamor nuclear plant?  According to the article the possibility of an accident with a partial-to-full meltdown at Metsamor is 2 in 10 000 years.  How does this impact mortality?  The correspondence is very convoluted, however let's assume an absolute worst case scenario:  let's use Chernobyl's example to estimate possible mortality from this accident.  Now, I have to warn you that this is a wild, almost ridiculous exaggeration of the possible impact -- for the following reasons: Chernobyl was an RBMK  graphite reactor, inherently highly unstable.  So unstable that the West altogether abandoned that design in the 50's.  Metsamor on the other hand is a pressurized water reactor, similar in its design (and safety)  to Western standard designs.  Sure, it's not as safe as western designs (because of lack of primary containment building), but it's still *way* safer than graphite reactors. The single most important cause of  mortality at Chernobyl was the  incredible, almost mind boggling government incompetence.  The 4000 deaths that resulted from Chernobyl could have been reduced by 10x or more if only the gov.'t had quickly distributed iodine tables, or at the very least had instructed mothers not to give milk to their children for 2-3 weeks after the accident.  A simple omission that resulted in thousands of deaths due to thyroid cancer in children.  Sure, the Armenian gov.'t is not the most competent one in the world, but I think it is very unlikely to repeat these mistakes.  Finally, the above number is the probability of a meltdown.  There is a huge difference between a partial/full meltdown and a Chernobyl style emission of radioactivity.   But hey, let's be total pessimists and assume that the outcome of an accident at Metsamor will be as bad as Chernobyl.  So, here's the risk -- probability:  ~ 2 in 10000 years. outcome:       4000 deaths. The expectation, again, is the product:   <nuclear accident>  = 0.8 deaths/year.   So let's compare:  baseline risk -- 100 deaths/year, nuclear riks -- 0.8 deaths/year.  Here you really don't have to be a radical nuclear power supporter to see that the increment to the unavoidable baseline risk is tiny -- less than 1%.   Now what are the risks of NOT having a nuclear power plant? Think 90's in Yerevan.  Freezing apartments and high child mortality (much higher than the above 0.8deaths/year!) due to this.  Possible economic stagnation --> possible war with Azerbaijan, which will correctly conclude that Armenia's economic weakening implies a military weakening. A greater degree of energy dependence on Russian and Iranian gas.   Despite all of the above I personally feel that the current nuclear power plant in Armenia has run its course and should not operate past its formal shutdown date, i.e. 2015.  Armenia is in fact planning to build a more modern (in terms of safety and efficiency) and more powerful reactor, of the Russian VVER-1000 design.  Unlike the current VVER-440 design in place at Metsamor, this design does have a primary containment building, and has many fixes to the vulnerabilities of the 440 design.  Also, its 2.5 times more powerful than Metsamor, and will allow Armenia to achieve an almost total energy independence and to entirely switch from fossil power to the cleaner nuclear energy. (14 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, April 1st, 2011
12:57 pm	The Government of Russian Federation has announced that as part of its nuclear disarmament policy it plans to expend 300 low yield tactical nuclear warheads to carve out Vladimir Putin's bust onto Mt. Elbrus' summit pyramid.  The bust will stand 500m tall relative to its base and will be included in Guinness Book of Records for its height.  Russian mountain climbing community has already expressed its eagerness to help put the bust of the Great Leader onto Europe's highest geological object.  The project will make extensive use of what experts call  "nuclear plastic surgery technology", pioneered and developed by Russian nuclear weaponeers . (Comment on this)
Tuesday, March 22nd, 2011
10:45 pm	В блогосфере ходят неверные слухи о том что французский посол в Тбилиси подверг Грузию резкой критике.  Вот блок статьи (http://www.ambafrance-ge.org/EssaiSPIP/spip.php?article1927), который видимо подвергся неправильному переводу, с моим приблизительным английским переводом ниже: Ainsi, on ne peut lire sans sourire l’amalgame qui a pu être fait récemment par certains médias entre la préoccupation, légitime, de certains européens lorsqu’ils découvrent que leur politique d’aide à la Géorgie est présentée par certaines ONG comme inefficace, voire inutile, et des tendances « rétrogrades », voire « néo-bolchéviques »,qui ramèneraient la Géorgie au temps de l’Union soviétique. Que ce soit bien clair : l’Europe soutient l’effort de la Géorgie sur son chemin vers les valeurs et les pratiques de l’Union européenne, chemin d’épines et de sueur, et elle continuera de le faire parce que les résultats lui paressent encourageants. Oui, il y a des frustrations, elles sont mutuelles d’ailleurs, mais la politique européenne de voisinage conserve toute sa pertinence. A nous d’en relever les carences et de les corriger, mais il faut poursuivre, et ne pas s’en remettre à des conclusions critiques, dont le sens vise à nous encourager et non à nous décourager. Перевод -- For one, it's impossible not to smile when reading the mixed conclusions of news media about the legitimate concerns of some Europeans when the later find out that some NGOs consider their policy of aid to Georgia as ineffective, or even useless, with "backward" or even "neo-Bolshevik" tendencies taking Georgia back to its Soviet past. To be completely clear -- Europe supports Georgia's efforts on its path towards European values and practices, a path of sweat and thorns, and it will continue its support because the results appear encouraging. Yes, there are frustrations, and mutual ones at that, however the European policy of "neighborhood" remains relevant. It's up to us to identify the shortcomings and to correct them, however it's important to continue and not to dwell on critical conclusions, whose purpose it is to encourage rather than to discourage. (Comment on this)
11:33 am	Ignorance will set you free Every time I listen to the coverage of the Fukushima accident on On Point I hear something that makes my blood boil. This time the "honorary liberal arts nuclear expert" was a Tokyo-based journalist. When asked about the situation, here's her words: "The gov.'t has said that the radiation in Tokyo has exceeded the normal levels 8 times. This is very bad, because I assume that the normal levels should be zero." a) if it were zero, then 8x would be still zero, right? Just that should tell you that the natural background is anything but zero. b) the natural background is ~0.01 mRem/hour. 8x that is 0.08miliRem/hour, or ~2miliRem/day. The acute dose (acute= within a short period of time, such as a day) at which the cancer risk starts to rise is >10Rem. So on a daily scale we are still  ~5000x below the risky level. Which prompts me to post a (clickable) link to xkcd's excellent chart on background and man-made radiation.  (Comment on this)