Last Week's Business Meeting on 06/17/2018

Business Meeting  06/17/2018

This has been a very interesting weekend. I spent part of the day at work on Saturday by accident.  I was playing my guitar in the city park across from the office when I looked up and Ani was calling to me to come over to the office.  I was ready for a break and they offered coffee, a very normal activity for guests in Armenia.  I went upstairs and set my guitar in the conference room and moved to the kitchen.  We had coffee and laughed about what a curiosity I was playing my guitar and wearing a cowboy hat in the city park.  I asked if Ani had seen me through the window when she told me that her husband was a policeman and had called her to let her know I was in the park and she told me that all the police were making sure I was safe.  This was comforting and disturbing at the same time.  The team teased me that everyone in town (it is a small place) was starting to know who the American was and that I worked here with them.

After coffee and conversation, I asked why they were all at work.  I found out they were preparing for a meeting on Sunday with about thirty people who were going to pitch business ideas to Hasmik. I asked if there was anything I could do to help and was told to just relax.  Roman, Hasmik's son and our web guru, asked to see my guitar.  We sat in the conference room as everyone else went back to work.  Roman played a couple of songs on my guitar and then said he had to go back to work.  I left thinking about how I wish I could help more.

Saturday night, Anushik called me and said that Hasmik wanted to know if I wanted to go with them to hear the presentations on Sunday.  I told her that I did and wanted to help if I could.  She told me that I would be the official photographer.  This had become my new job which I enjoyed because I know how to take pictures at meetings like this without being too intrusive and my limited language skills would not be an impediment.  She said to be ready at 7:00 in the morning.  Now, most Armenian events do not begin this early but it would be easy to fall in to my early rising American habits.

Sunday morning, Narine called me to say Hasmik would be by my house to pick me up in a few minutes.  I was ready and waiting.  I climbed in to the front seat and instinctively put on my seat belt.  Hasmik looked at me as though I had insulted her driving but said nothing at first.  We took off for wherever we going.  I don't ask, just ride with the team.  It was a beautiful ride, but being early, I thought to myself that I would tell Hasmik that I would buy if she would stop at the first McDonald's we saw for a coffee and Egg McMuffin.   Of course, there are none in our area or maybe even Armenia.  But, as though she read my mind, Hasmik pulled in to a roadside restaurant where we had a shourma ( meat and greens rolled inside a piece of Lavosh) which is kind of like a burrito.  They drank soda and I had water.  While our meal was prepared, we walked around the grounds of the complex.  It was a small hotel with a swimming pool that had no water.  Hasmik was told that they would put water in for guests and charge an afternoon or evening swim rate.  She got excited about the concept and talked to me about maybe finding someone to build something similar in our little town.  We took a picture of our group and went inside to eat.

Narine, Hasmik, Anushik, My Team, My Armenian Family

We piled back in the car and Hasmik started explaining more about the meeting ahead.  They had received a grant to sponsor a training.  They had hired a professional trainer to teach these folks how to design and present small business plans.  She told me that they would present to her and the trainer while everyone listened.  Narine and Anushik were to help them fill out their grant applications after their presentations.  I was to be the curiosity in the room with a camera and no language.

The first thing I noticed when I walked in to the room were two  large posters on the wall.  The first was a square divided in to four sectors.  Each sector had an English letter in it S, W, O, or T.  I immediately recognized the Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities, and Threats diagram.  Everything else on the page was in Armenian but I knew a few words and had taught the SWOT concept myself.

Secondly, there was another posters with English letters S, M, A, R, and T going down the left side of the page.  At the top was as Armenian word which Narine explained to me was goals.  The corresponding words went with the English letters but everything else was in Armenian. Specific, Measurable, Achievable and Realistic were written in English. The quick hint that this was put together by a non-native speaker were the words Time Bound because it read Bounded which would make sense to someone who was learning English tenses and not knowing all of our irregular rules.

SWOT Analysis and SMART Goals

My assignment for the day was to photographically document the day's events.  We are using the pictures on our website to promote what we do.  Anushik insisted that I sit beside her at one of the large conference tables.  She said she would translate for me.  I set my Stetson on the floor by feet.  I took a few pictures but the lighting from the table was terrible.  I told Anushik not to worry about me and translations.  We could talk later but I was going to sit in the back of the room  where I had better angles to take pictures.  

Hasmik and the trainer spoke first explaining the process by which the presentations would be made, time limits etc.  She answered a few questions.  After I returned to my seat, I looked over towards the table where I had been sitting.  Armenian people are so kind and thoughtful.  A lady who had seen me put my hat  on the floor waved to me and showed me she had put my hat in the center of their table.  She placed it upside down, the way I had set it down,  and smiled at me.  I gave her a thank you nod and hoped that was understood in Armenia as it is in America.

It is said in America that people fear public speaking more than they do death.  I am here to report that with my limited data and research, the same fear exists in Armenia.  As each speaker came to the center of the room pitching their business idea to Hasmik, the level of comfort ranged from moderately comfortable to wanting to drop whatever they were holding and run screaming from the room.  Funny, I have been reading people for so many years in negotiations, teaching, and politics, that I did not need language to read the body language, voice inflections, shallow breathing, and all other outward signs of nervousness.

Several presentations stood out to me even if I had no idea what they were selling.  One gentleman who had been at the table where I sat at first had asked Hasmik many questions before the program started.  He spoke with confidence from the table.  When he stepped in to the front of the room, his voice softened and he shifted his weight from one side to the other continuously.  his smile did not reappear until he was finished presenting and Hasmik thanked him.

The nice lady who had rescued my Stetson from the floor was  nervous in the early moments of her presentation until the trainer asked her to get her poster.  She took a poster from the wall next to where she had been sitting and placed it on the wall behind her.  She had written a nice, simple budget  for what she would need financially for her proposed business. 

My hat rescue friend

As she stood by the numbers, she spoke with much greater confidence and answered detailed questions from Hasmik.
Two young men sporting flannel shirts and Dobbs Style hats spoke. They both spoke with mus more confidence than most of the other presenters ( maybe the over-confidence of youth). They looked like two young men who could be found in Seattle near Pike Market playing music and expecting tips from the tourists. I later learned one of them was proposing a tattoo parlor. I was so disappointed in myself that I had just set the camera down when he winked at my boss, Hasmik. Oh how I wished I had caught that wink; it would have been an incredible picture.  It is not a common practice in Armenia and to have winked in the direction of Hasmik was courageous or crazy.  Later, Hasmik told me she thought it was funny and cute.

Seattle Sam, my nickname for him

The Tattoo Artist

After fifteen presentations, we did what Armenians do and had a coffee break.  There was instant coffee and a wide assortment of pastries.  It was so hot in the room that the last thing I wanted was coffee.  I was one of the last people in the little room where the coffee was being served and was trying to slip by some people to get the water bottle I had brought.  I said I did not want any of the pastries but Hasmik insisted I have an apricot because they were grown by one of our presenters.  As I took a bite of the apricot, the nice lady who had rescued my Stetson handed me a cup of coffee and a mini- chocolate filled croissant. She smiled so sweetly there was no way I could reject the offer.  I surrendered to her kindness and she asked if I wanted sugar for my coffee.  I told her that I like my coffee black.  I know how to say that in Armenian.   The croissant and apricot were both very tasty.
 After about half an hour,  we reconvened in the main room with a different group of presenters.  The next fifteen presentations began the same way with Hasmik  and the trainer welcoming everyone and explaining the procedures and expectations.  A few from the first group had stayed to hear the next group so we began to run out of chairs in the conference room.I was standing along the back wall with my camera.  Oh my goodness, you would think I had said something bad about my mother.  Three men jumped up and one pushed a chair to me along the back wall. I said no in Armenia and they insisted in Armenia that I sit down.  I sat down, expecting to see one of the men leave the room and return with a chair.  Instead, these three men pushed two chairs together and crowded on them like a miniature sofa.   I almost stood up and insist that they take my chair but knew that would be a waste of energy so I stayed in my chair except when I stood to take pictures.
The presentations moved along pretty much like they had in the first hour.  Again, several caught my attention even with limited linguistic capabilities.  One lady had the most wonderful smile, only breaking it once while listening to a question from Hasmik.  Another little bit older lady, giggled and wiggled throughout her presentations with a most infectious laugh. I was starting to laugh a little without even understanding whatever was funny.  I found out later her original pitch had already received a grant but she wanted to try her newly learned skills so she was pitching homemade vodka.  It made the mood in the room become so light for everyone.  I think the giggly lady helped everyone else relax for their presentations.

Giggle Box with Homemade Vodka

The Captivating Smile

I looked up from the presentations and saw two men from the earlier session in the doorway.  They had returned, I assumed to listen to the other presentations.  They came in to the room and stood by where I was sitting.  One of the two men had added a Denver Broncos Super Champions baseball cap to his attire.  I smiled at him and pointed to his hat.  At the first break in the speeches, I asked him, in my terrible Armenian, if he liked the Denver Broncos.  He did not understand me so I asked Anushik to ask him for me and to let him know that I used to live in Denver.  I surmised that he was not really a Broncos fans but had found a cap which had come from America and had made it his own without even realizing what it said.  But, he was proud to have an American cap.  I asked him if I could take his picture and post it on Facebook.  He agreed.

Bronco Billy, my nickname for my new friend

I put the picture above on Facebook and posted that I had found a Broncos fan in Armenia even if he had no idea who they were.
As the presentations ended, I packed up my camera and waited in the back of the room watching Hasmik fielding a million individual questions from the various presenters.  Having ended meetings like this before, I  recognized her plight and was amazed at her patience and skill with each individual.  Anushik and Narine asked me if I was okay.  It is so sweet and funny how these two incredibly bright young women worry so much about my well being.  I assured them I was doing just fine and for them to get busy with the work they needed to do.  I offered to help in any way that I could but knew the answer would be to sit down and wait.  These two young dynamos assisted people with their applications and buzzed around the room answering questions.  I sat there feeling about as useless as, well I won't use the southern expression I was thinking of.    That was when I noticed the two men who had returned (one of them sporting the Broncos cap) talking to Hasmik.  Anushik came to me and said we were invited to a celebration after the presentations and would I mind attending. My first thought was what would they do if I said that I did not want to go.  But, of course I wanted to go.  Part of my duty is to experience their culture while sharing American culture.  It seemed like a golden opportunity to me.
Hasmik led us up to the third floor of the city building which is the only floor with a rest room.  It looked like an American sporting event.  There was a line outside the Women's room while I just walked in to the Men's room.  I came out of the door and looked at the silly line of women and told my two young companions to use the Men's room and that I would guard the door for them.  They were hesitant at first but Hasmik told them to go ahead. They had nervous smiles on their faces as they went inside the bathroom.  I, the crazy American, had probably forced them to break several centuries of Armenian culture but we were going to get to the party quicker.
After the restroom adventures, we loaded up in to Hasmik's car and followed the two men to a beautiful roadside picnic ground.  There were tables at a nicely covered area.  There was a large grill where men were stoking a fire to create coals for cooking create khorovats, an Armenian style of skewered meat like a barbecue.  The trainer told Hasmik that I was to go with him and learn to cook. I did not have the words to tell him that I have taught in a gourmet foods class so I just followed along.  He showed me how take slices of potato and a small piece of pork fat and skewer them alternately.  I did not put the potato on the skewer at the right angle on my first try so he had to show me what he wanted me to do.  I got the hang of it and filled three skewers almost as quickly as the guy next to me.   The next guy was  taking whole smaller potatoes and slicing them bout three quarters of the way down, each slice about an eighth of an inch apart.  The potato fanned out on the sewer.  Again, each of these potatoes was spaced with a piece of pork fat between them.  Then the trainer took the potato filled skewers over to the grill area.  Pork and beef filled skewers were already on the fire.  Only men were in this area.
In the mean time, the women had been setting the tables and putting salads of tomato and cucumber scattered about on the table.  There were also roasted tomatoes, peppers, and eggplant placed on plates down the center of the table.  There were large spicy peppers and greens on plates.  Plates of a white cheese were placed about every fourth setting.  Plates and tableware  were set out for everyone. Stacks of bread and lavosh were by each setting.  Each setting had two cups, one for drinking coca-cola, fresh compote or water.  The other was for vodka or wine.  I knew there would be many toasts at this meal.
I saw the man in the Broncos cap and told him how many friends he now had in America.  He said they only liked his hat.  So I threw that question out there on Facebook and heard back that he was a handsome young man.  He laughed when I told him that.  When Hasmik asked me to sit beside her, my new friend in the Broncos cap sat on my left.
It suddenly began to rain very heavily and everyone crowded on to the benches around the tables.  I counted thirty two people.  Only a few men were staying over by the grills supervising the cooking.  Hasmik put a roasted pepper,  roasted tomato and part of a roasted eggplant on my plate.  I have learned not resist when an Armenian woman is trying to take care of your dinner plate.  The only trick I have learned is to eat slowly or you will instantly get another plateful.   She told me I would like the roasted vegetables and she was correct.  The men brought bowls of roasted pork and beef from the grill area. it smelled incredible but first we needed to have a toast.  Homemade vodka was poured in our smaller cups. The trainer stood and toasted Hasmik and thanked her for sponsoring  the training.  Hasmik translated for me as the trainer went on saying that all these people had pledged to work together to make their business ideas succeed and strengthen their community.  Some of the folks did not know each other before the training but now they were committed to each other. The toast went on a little longer but then we said "voghdzh aroghdzh" which means " be alive and healthy" in Armenian.  We threw back our little cups of homemade vodka. Hasmik had whispered to me during the toast that this vodka might be a little stronger than I am used to.  Now I have been growing to admire and respect Hasmik but this demonstrated her gift for understatement.  I felt like I had just taken a swig of rocket fuel.  My throat was on fire.   My  new Broncos cap wearing friend smiled and asked me if I like his vodka.  My eyes were still watering as I tried to smile and tell him that it was good only a little stronger than I was expecting. I figured I wasn't driving so I may as well enjoy it.
We began serving ourselves the roasted meats.  I wanted to know when the potatoes were coming because I wanted to see how mine turned out.  I saw that they were just being placed on the grill so I guessed potatoes were like the third course because the meat had used up the grill space first. I had about two bites of pork when Hasmik stood up.  Her toast was not as long as the trainers had been.  I followed bits of pieces of it through my limited vocabulary. Then, she turned towards me and I understood Peace Corps volunteer in Armenian and thank you.  My vodka glass was refilled a little higher this time and everyone had to tell me voghdzh aroghdzh.  The second shot went down a little smoother but I was glad I had my ever present bottle of water. I kept being offered Orange Fanta and Coca Cola which I rejected.  I have rarely seen water drunk at a meal here so I have learned to bring my own..
 We ate peacefully for a few minutes when another toast was begun by one of the day's presenters.  He was one of the men who had organized the party.  More vodka was poured for everyone. I only drank half my shot this time to be ready for the next toast, hoping they would see vodka in my cup and pass over me.  The strategy was unsuccessful.  Either Hasmik or my Broncos friend would top off my cup saying I needed a refresher. I still took smaller sips.
The potatoes finally came to the table. The potatoes were excellent, even the ones I skewered.  Next came bowls filled with slices of fresh watermelon.  It is not that seedless variety that we have in America.  It is fresh from the fields and so very red and sweet.   The watermelon was to be dessert but the left over pastries from the earlier coffee break appeared although most of the folks were either eating the watermelon or nothing. 
Several of the men gathered at either end of the long table and smoked and drank.  Periodically toasts were made but they were shorter. The vodka was not as plentiful.  I thought this must be the sign that the party was about to end. That was when the singing started.
The two young men in flannels and hats began harmonizing on a beautiful song that I understood enough Armenian to know it was about unrequited love.  That is an emotion that crosses every language.  The song was beautiful as were their harmonies.  I could tell they were friends but the singing surprised me. Someone led us in a few songs about Armenia. I would equate them with our standard "This Land is Your Land" by Woody Guthrie that most Americans learned at one time.  Now Americans only join together in "Take Me Out To the Ballgame".  America could take a lesson on patriotism from the Armenian people.  They sang with power and emotion. I did not understand most of the words but when they said, "Hayestan" which is Armenia in Armenian, the pride blew from their lips like the scene in "Casablanca" when the French citizens sing the Marseilles loudly in front of the Nazi officers.  This was a picnic not a ballgame.  Just a group of people having a fun dinner but they all had to sing of their pride in their heritage.  I wanted to join in but I don't know the words, yet. Before I leave this country, I will be able to join them.
It was getting late and we needed to go.  There were many good-byes and I knew better than to offer to help clean.  We were their guests.  They had cooked for us, served us, broken bread with us and now they wanted us to travel safely home. The hospitality of the Armenian people leaves me speechless.  Hasmik asked me to run to the car so we could get some pictures of the group before we left. (I am the official photographer after all.)  The rain had stopped so everyone gathered at the entrance to the park area near where our car was parked.  I took several shots of the crowd when one of the men started yelling to someone at the table on the other side of the park area.  I figured out that he wanted me in the picture so I was to show a stranger how to use the camera and then get in the picture.  The person came over with no reservations.  Armenians help each other without question.
A few more photos were taken with the American in them.
There were handshakes, hugs, kisses and countless good-byes.  I asked Hasmik to tell them please that I came here to share my business knowledge but that I continue to learn from them.  I told her to tell them that the Armenian people are stealing my heart.

The Amazing People of Tavush Region