The workers who do a lot of the manual labour at our excavation (we really are spoiled because they carry our buckets down the cliff and sift them with our paleoethnobotanist Tamaera) are all around the same age as the myself and the rest of the field school students, so we have been prime targets of their affection. It began with staring at us from afar, but quickly escalated as they learned how to say “beautiful” and “I love you” ...it all went downhill from there. They would come up to us and tell us they loved one of us and try and hold our hands or make us hold hands with one of their shyer friends. They would call out the body parts they found beautiful which ranged from hair and eyes to Laurens arm?
As they got more comfortable around us one of the guys decided he would try and wipe the dirt off of my face for me. He got a look let me tell you. He later saw me putting on my work gloves after a break and he ran over took off my one glove, grabbed the second, and put them on for me like a child. He most definitely got THE look. My friend Nani has been asked on a date to the springs and was brought a bottle of wine, and Taylor and Lauren have been told that they appear in their dreams... like I said, the guys are forward here.
The other problem I have is that they often ask us why we are doing physical work. Many Armenian women in the smaller villages my age are married with children and certainly do not do the kind of work we do, which is considered ‘mans work’ by our workers. I must say I get a good laugh at how these men are taking orders from a group of girls, certainly not typical in small town Armenia.
One fashion statement that never quite made it to Armenia is women’s shorts (although they will wear short skirts and heels, jean shorts seem to be considered pretty racy). One evening when it was forty degrees out I decided I would walk to the internet cafe with the group in a pair of shorts, after we were done using the computers we went outside to the cafe to wait for the last few who were still using the internet. All of a sudden cokes appeared for all the ladies, and a table of guys smiled and waved. We thought it was very nice and waved back. Next thing I know the waiter is handing me a note that said “Amerpika. (Armerica?) I kiss you. Roman (his name?)” complete with a backwards N. We all got a good chuckle, until Roman came over and began hand gesturing for me to go with him. We said no thanks and left soon after. We then bumped into our friends Dina and Tamaera on the way home and stopped to talk to them when we noticed that Roman was still behind us. Later my friend Nathan and I split from the group to grab ice-cream at the lounge and we watched as Norman stood at the entrance for over an hour. Even in foreign countries I manage to attract stalkers. Just my luck.
My last story about our interesting male encounters occurred when myself and the rest of the non-Armenian-speaking girls decided to go adventure one evening for a walk around town. About three miles into our evening hike we walked past a guy who was suddenly very concerned for us (girls walking alone in the evening is not a usual sight) and was convinced we were lost. We tried to tell him that we were fine, but the next thing I know he was on the phone and his brother was showing up. We were told he speaks English, which he didn’t, at least not well enough to have a conversation. They pointed up the hill and made signals to say there was a statue there that they wanted to show us. We followed them up the hill and tried to communicate with them and explain that we were archaeologists and students. They understood the student part and said that they studied in Yerevan. After we reached the hill with the statue they grabbed their phones and typed in numbers to tell us when the statue was built (1945) and how many steps there were to the monument (101). When we reached the top (there was probably only fifty steps, we found out later that 101 is the same as saying “many”) we had the most stunning view of the villages and although the sun had gone down there was just enough light to appreciate the view. We took photos with the boys and began to walk down the stairs (they insisted on holding our hands so we wouldn’t fall... we also tried to explain that we climbed a cliff every day to work. Then we were handed a telephone and there was a lady speaking French on the phone.. I think they got our languages confused.
On the way back home they continued to walk with us until they reached their home. They invited us inside but we refused since it was a little sketchy and it was dark out now, so they asked us to wait outside... next thing they know they are bringing their mother out to meet us. I spoke to her in French briefly and they asked us to wait again. This time they brought out boxes. When they laid the boxes on the road we found out they were filled with baby ducks. So we played with their baby ducks and then carried on our way. They were very concerned and wanted us to call a taxi home but we told them we were fine to walk home. They knew the town we were from was still a few miles away. So we said goodbye and carried on our way. Twenty minutes later a car pulls up beside us and we heard “Aurora! Lauren! Taylor!” and the boys jumped out. When we refused a drive home one of them insisted on walking us home. When we were almost home we bumped into our chef who is VERY over protective and told him to get lost! They asked our chef if we were students, and if we had “life partners” in Armerica.
Classic times with local boys at a statue in the village.
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