Would you ever live there?

Christina Asadourian

Los Angeles, USA 

I woke up disoriented, not exactly sure of my surroundings. I wasn’t woken up by the sunlight’s rays peeking through the curtains or the sound of my always-cheerful host brother getting ready for school. 

Instead, I was back in Los Angeles, and woke up from my alarm. It took me a second to grasp that my time in Armenia was over and I was back home.

Admittedly, adjusting back to life in the U.S. didn’t take that long. While it took me a few days (okay, a few weeks) to sync up to the fast and relentless pace of Los Angeles, I eventually sorted myself out. While I was far, far away from Armenia, my culture still followed me home. I grew up in a traditional Armenian household, and as expected, I visited family members immediately after my arrival to share my experience in Armenia.

Family members bombarded me with questions and begged for anecdotes that would perhaps offer some nostalgia for them. I happily shared pictures and stories of my time there. However, I was confused by one thing. A lot of them kept insisting on how lucky I was to have such an opportunity and how “courageous” I was for travelling across the world and committing to live there for several months.

I didn’t understand this. Going in, I tried my hardest to have no expectations. I didn’t think of Armenia has some far-away, mystical land and I didn’t think of my commitment to going there as some form of heroic volunteerism.

Why did my relatives and friends then congratulate me for such a noble effort when I didn’t see it that way?

I soon realized it’s because a lot of them haven’t been there in years or haven’t been there at all. I didn’t succumb myself to live in adversity or “second-world” conditions for some altruistic reason. I lived and, in many ways, I thrived in Armenia. Sure, I struggled and had some difficulty adjusting but that was to be expected. My experience in Armenia was new and wildly different than anything I could imagine. Yerevan, the capital of Armenia, reminded me, in many ways, of any other major city. You could see its development and growth every day. Armenia spoiled me with its numerous cafes and restaurants, but it also grounded me with its ancient history and the humility of its people.

The reoccurring question I was always asked was, “Would you ever live there?” And every time I answered “yes,” I was met with shock and disbelief.

It dawned on me that I need to play a part in deconstructing this myth. This myth that an American, or whomever, cannot ever live in Armenia. The myth that Armenia is not “livable.”

I still get asked that same question, and I know how to reply now. I think my experience in Armenia is not the last. I am grateful to have had the opportunity to live and see Armenia for four months, but surely I will be going back.

I am confident Armenia will welcome me with open arms whenever it is I choose to return. Most importantly, I don’t have the mentality of “What can I do for Armenia?” more than I think in the terms of “What can Armenia do for me?”

It’s good to be reunited with family and friends in Los Angeles, but going through Birthright Armenia has taught me that Armenia is not just a tourist attraction, but a livable country with promise and endless opportunity for me and anyone else who chooses to give it a chance.