Armenia: I (wish I could) take away your pain

Հայաստան։ ցավդ տանեմ

One of the phrases you hear quite often when you live in Armenia, or a phrase you notice quickly as a foreigner living there, is ցավդ տանեմ. It literally means “I take your pain.”  It is a special phrase that I initially thought to be rather trite or overused because you constantly hear it said in daily conversations.

However, it took me a year of living in Armenia and about a half-year (post-Armenia) of reflecting on those words to really understand them. To actually “get them” as we say in English. Learning about Armenian culture and the aftermath of the genocide at the start of the 20th century, you begin to understand that Armenians know something about pain. They’ve had their fair share of suffering. But the special part of the unique Armenian experience, at least for me while living there, is how much of the pain of family, colleagues and even strangers they are willing to take on as their own burden. If they say ցավդ տաեեմ։  to you, they honestly mean that through some act, big or small, they would like to make your situation better.

As I watch the events unfold in Artsakh (commonly called Nagorno-Karabakh, but I use the Armenian term because of the bonds I formed with Armenians and my ties to families whose sons have been drafted), I think yet again about the selflessness of the Armenian people. They are so hospitable and welcoming, and the struggle of Armenian populations in Artsakh really is their struggle. It is also a painful situation that reminds them of the events of 1914-1923 that saw Armenians lose access to over half their native lands and be forced into a world that was sometimes welcoming, sometimes not. Of course, in many cases they had to survive the forced marches across the Syrian desert to even gain access to new lives and new opportunities.

Yet, if you look now, as their diaspora rises up to speak about the unnecessary and destabilizing conflict and aggression (fomented by present-day Armenia’s Western neighbor and easily seized upon by their Eastern one), you see the greater Armenian global family come to life. You hear the slowly growing cry of ցավդ տանեմ as Armenians from all around the world work to raise awareness of the larger problems of the Azeri-Armenian conflict and to support their kinfolk. Armenians in the diaspora from California in the USA to the shores of Lebanon, from the streets of Paris or even Prague’s Old Town Square are calling for the world to act: to see the pain and suffering caused, not so much by Azeri-Armenian-instigated fighting, i.e. that of two peoples, but rather by the work of two despots Erdogan and Aliyev, who have exacerbated conflict for political gain. These two men have taken advantage of the instability, suffering and chaos of a Covid-stricken world and are using aggression to distract domestic populations from their own shortcomings as leaders.

In 2018, the people of Armenia went to the streets, they elected a reform-minded government. They had what they called their Velvet Revolution: in fact, that makes Armenia the second country I’ve called home for a time that has had such a calm, people-driven call for change and reforms that led down the path to a peaceful, democratic existence.  I want the Armenians to be able to continue down that path.  I want to scream from the top of my lungs to all my Armenian friends, to the youth of that country, to the peoples of Artsakh seeking self-determination: ցավդ տաեեմ։  I want you all to have the peace and prosperity you so deserve, and I wish I could take away your pain.

 

History and Agriculture in the Wachau

In a whirlwind day trip last Saturday, I had the pleasure of re-experiencing one of the most beautiful sections of the Danube river valley: the Wachau. It includes a short section an important European waterway full of stories from history dating back to Richard the Lionheart.  In fact, it was in the village where he was imprisoned, Dürnstein, that we made our first stop. We descended our bus at the water’s edge and turned, on foot, up a slowly inclining cobblestone road that led to the village center. From the retainer walls that once protected the old town, one could take in expansive views of the Blue Danube and look west to the central Wachau valley.

Above Dürnstein village sit the ruins of the old castle where Richard was imprisoned; it stands precariously on the crags and rocky cliffs that rise above the river in this area. It was a special treat to stop here, as I had read last year about Richard the Lionheart’s capture and imprisonment in the excellent travel diary by Patrick Leigh Fermor, A Time of Gifts. I had first travelled through the Wachau in 2009 on a charity bike ride, The MAD Danube Odyssey, and was wondering how I had missed stopping at this site. 

After a quick peak at the abbey in Dürnstein and its colorful, baroque architecture, we quickly boarded our bus to move further upstream to Melk, the western gateway to the Wachau. Melk is famous for its chateau and monastery where monks still study and serve to this day. The yellow-tinged chateau, known for its role in education and the local economy, sits like a dreamy wedding cake atop a precipice looking down on the Danube. It bids welcome to all travelers as they float downstream into the Wachau region. The Melk chateau and abbey is vast in size with its large courtyards, its impressive baroque church and its library with an enormous collection of scholarly works focused on law, theology, philosophy and economics. 

It is at the western end of the chateau complex that visitors can take in breathtaking views of the Danube below, the quaint town of Melk, and the expanses of fields and forests that line the mighty river. When exiting the chateau complex at its eastern end, visitors can wander through a lovely set of French gardens that are immaculately groomed and offer pleasant respite from the bustle of the tours in the chateau/abbey proper. These quiet parks and garden paths are lined with lovely roses, blooming shrubs, and stands of asters that announce the arrival of autumn. 

After a short walk through Melk’s town center, we boarded our boat that would take us downstream to Krems. The boat ride was a wonderful way to soak in all the life and history that lines the Danube river. As we floated along, we saw the numerous vineyards that produce some of Austria’s best Grüner Veltliner wines and the orchards full of apricots and pears. In almost all larger towns of the Wachau, you can find stores that offer you multiple apricot- and pear-based products: schnapps, marmalades and jams, nectars and sirups, and very sweet wines. Also, in this area, you will find that pumpkins and squashes are very popular. That’s why many shops will also sell Kürbiskernöl (pumpkin seed oil), which is a wonderful treat for flavoring salads.

As we went downstream, we saw the castle at Schönbühel, the romantic village of Weissenkirchen, the ancient church of St. Michael with its legend of the rabbits, and the impressive Göttweig Abbey which presides over the eastern Wachau with stateliness and majesty.  Our tour wound down in Krems an der Donau, where we disembarked out boat and made our way to the town center. Krems houses a wide array of architecture and landmarks; beginning with the Center for the Arts (once a former cigarette factory) near the boat docks, then passing by the university campus and the Karikaturmuseum, before reaching the central city park and the Steiner Tor (a gate to the old town).

My visit to the Wachau was quick, but it was definitely a trip I would repeat again over a long weekend. The magnificent vistas coupled with the calming flow of one of Europe’s most important waterways make the Wachau Valley a must see. Accessible by train, bus, car or bike, it’s worth it to treat yourself perhaps to a sun-filled day of leisurely cycling followed by a big plate of hearty Austrian cuisine (perhaps the pumpkin gnocchi) and a glass of crisp, white Wachau wine. Prost und guten Appetit.