The Fruit-a photo post.

Peaches and Plums

 Sunflower Seeds being sold in situ

No distinction is made between wine grapes and eating grapes

One of my favorite pictures from Armenia.  I showed it to an Armenian, and she said, "but the Plum is really more a Georgian thing you know." 

April, and the apricots blossom.

The Fruit

On one of the last warm weeks of summer, I was biking uphill on a country road, standing on the pedals of my steel-framed mountain bike when a car pulled alongside me.  It drove uncomfortably close for 10 or 15 seconds, then the front passenger window began to roll down.  I stopped, dropped my feet to the ground.  A hand came out of the passenger window.  It had a perfectly ripe peach in it.  I took the peach. "Shnorakalutsiun" [Thank you] I said.  The car peeled away. I ate the peach.  It was delicious.

Fruit is a very important part of life in Armenia.  Any halfway decent host will put out a plate of cut fruit for a guest.  The pomegrante, and especially the apricot, are celebrated as avatars of the nation, considered to be a superior breed to any pomegrante or apricot anywhere else in the world.  During Soviet times, under the command economy, Armenia was considered to be the Soviet republic best endowed with fresh produce that was rare in stores in Kiev, Leningrad or Bishkek.  Today, with the exception of bananas and oranges of varying quality, all fruit in Armenia is locally grown and eaten only when it is in season.  The country does not experience the "miracle" of modern produce supply chains.  There are no strawberries in November, flown in from New Zealand, avocados from trees across the continent for making Guacamole for New Years parties or coconuts available for tiki parties in February.  Indeed, during the winter, there's barely any fresh fruit in the country at all, except for in jams or at ridiculous prices at the nicer supermarkets in the capital.  But come the spring....

The first, and most important fruit of Spring is the apricot, whose flowering in April marks the beginning of warm weather.  For months, the quality of the apricot harvest is a topic of discussion at every dinner table.   Was there too much rain? Too little?  This Spring, my region saw a wave of hail which devastated the crop, causing a depression almost as acute as if a medium distant relative had died.  The loss is not just culinary, it's economic.  For a farming family, a strong apricot crop means enough money for heat, food and clothes in the winter.  During those middle weeks of April, when the trees are covered in white blossoms, the season seems full of possiblities.  They come in quickly towards middle of June, and quickly progress from green and hard to yellow-orange, astonishingly sweet and soft and oozing sticky juice.  After eating them (it's really no problem to eat 8 or 10 at a setting), the seeds are cracked with a heavy rock to reveal a brown nut that tastes almost, but not quite, like a moist almond. By the middle of July, the apricots have become overripe and are boiled down for jams and juices.  By August they are all but gone.

The first apples and plums will start to appear after the apricots, and will be eaten for the excitement of fresh fruit.  But these are rather poor, sour, green fellows.  Still, children will pick them and eat them for the thrill of it, enduring pursed lips and sore tummies.  They won't reach their peaks until August and September, when the apples will be abundant, firm and fat and the plums will be deep purple and incredibly sweet, exploding with juice once their smooth skins are pierced. Sunflower seeds are chewed year round, but at the beginning of summer entire sunflowers are sold and the seeds can be eaten fresh.  Of course, they must be checked to make sure that a little caterpillar has not burrowed into the shell, eaten the seed and decided to make it his home.

The middle of summer belongs to the peach, the best of which are sweet and juicy but somehow don't quite compare to the apricot.  It's also when the best vegetables appear; cucumbers, tomatoes, eggplants, green beans, red, green and hot peppers.  Lettuce is rare, but cabbage is common, usually made into slaws or soup.  The standard Armenian "salat" more closely resembles an American slaw, consisting of shredded vegetables with some small pieces of meats or fruits in mayonaise.  But fresh cucumbers and tomatoes are a part of every table, along with a knife for diners to slice them.

As summer starts to turn to fall, grapes are harvested, another opportunity for farmers to make money by selling to wine factories.  The manufactured wine in Armenia suffered terribly during Soviet times and remains of poor quality.  But the homemade wines poured into plastic Coca-Cola and Fanta bottles and kept for private consumption, shared with the neighbors or sold on the sides of the road make an excellent social lubricant. At this time, walnuts begin to fall off trees in green fleshy pods and are roasted to keep for the winter.  I was also given a bag of pears so delicious it made me want to cry.

Now, as fall turns to winter, the Pomegrantes are the last of the fresh, fleshy fruits to be harvested.  They will remain in markets at least until December.  Apples can be stored to last until at least New Years.  But the months of January, February and March will see no fresh produce and all Armenians will look forward to the Apricot blossoms in spring.

This is the Conversation

Where are you from?

I'm American.

But are you Armenian? [i.e. of Armenian descent]

I'm American, clean American

But there are no clean Americans. What American are you?

American American.

Where are you from in America?

New York City

Are there many Armenians there?

Some.

I have a [cousin, friend, neighbor's niece, etc.] who lives in Californian. There are many Armenians there.

Yes, in Glendale?

Yes, in Glendale. Is it better here or there?

[shrug of shoulders]

Huh? Better there? Or here?

[shrug of shoulders]

But what are you doing here?

I'm an English Teacher.

Oh, an English Teacher, where?

If I'm in the region of my village:

In A_____

Which school? S____yan's?

Yes, A____ School #1.

If I'm anywhere else in the country:

In A_____, a small village near T_____

Where?

A small village, near T____, called A____

Oh., what do you get paid for this?

I don't understand

What kind of salary do you get?

I don't understand

Money? Money! How much money?

Normal money, a teacher's salary.

Are you paid by the school?

No, by my organization.

What organization?

The Peace Corps

What organization?

Peace Corps.

Oh, peace corps. Want a smoke?

No, I don't smoke, thanks.

[lights a cigarette] How old are you?

You tell me?

umm...23?

Nope

25?

That's right.

Are you married?

I'm not.

You'll marry an Armenian girl.

Maybe, if she speaks English.

Nevermind, she'll learn.

Commentary on the conversation:

I have the conversation, on average, about once a day.  Some days I have it 5 or 6 times.  The questions are simple and common, nevertheless they're a minefield of cultural differences and assumptions.

But are you Armenian?

I'm American, clean American

But there are no clean Americans. What American are you?

American American.

Race, Ethnicity and Nationality are, as any reputable late 20th or early 21st century sociologist will tell you, largely social constructs.  "White" Americans tend to be blissfully ignorant of their racial and ethnic histories, and unaware of those around them, unless that person is obviously Hispanic, Black or Asian, in which case they are categorized into one of those excessively broad categories.  For Armenians, however, "Belorussian," "German," "Swedish," "Italian," or "Jew" remain separate, distinct categories of ethnicity and nationality.  The world used as a reference to a "pure" ethnicity is մաքուր (makur), which has connotations of both purity and cleanliness. [1]  In America, associating these concepts with ethnic heritage is decidedly un-politically correct as it implies that a mixing of ethnicity is impure or unclean.   I define myself primarily by nationality and consider my ethnicity rather vestigial. For me, the question is akin to "how large is your appendix?"

Yes, in Glendale. Is it better here or there?

[shrug of shoulders]

Huh? Better there? Or here?

[shrug of shoulders]

After a year, I still haven't formulated a response to this question that is both polite and truthful.  I very directly ignore it.  

If I'm anywhere else in the country:

In A_____, a small village near T_____

Where?

A small village, near T____, called A____

No one's heard of my village.  Unless they have.  In which case they probably know and are related to half the population of the town.  

Oh., what do you get paid for this?

I don't understand

What kind of salary do you get?

I don't understand

Money? Money! How much money?

Normal money, a teacher's salary.

Most Americans aren't comfortable discussing their salary or the cost of their personal possessions with strangers.  Most Armenians are.

Oh, peace corps. Want a smoke?

No, I don't smoke, thanks.

Almost all Armenian men smoke.  A respectable Armenian woman does not.

25?

That's right.

Are you married?

I'm not.

You'll marry an Armenian girl.

Maybe, if she speaks English.

Nevermind, she'll learn.

I'm of prime marrying age.

[1] For example, to find out if water is good to drink or to swim in, one might ask "այս ջուր մաքուր է?" (Is this water makur?) and receive the response "հա, մաքուր է." (Yes, it's makur.)