Guitars in the Park

Stevie Wonder wrote “Music is a world within itself” in the song Sir Duke. I have always admired musicians who traveled the globe to play with and learn from other musicians.  Paul Simon’s El Condor Pas and Graceland, Peter Gabriel’s experimentation with South African music easily come to mind.  I remember hearing Paul Simon talk about the music similarities of rhythms and chord phrasing without knowledge of each other’s language.  These were collaborations that I still love to listen to.  Saturday, I experienced the beauty of the universality of music. Let me explain.

As you know, I am visiting the beautiful and very musical country of Armenia as a guest in the Peace Corps.  I am working with an amazing team who are working to improve the economic situation of the Tavush Region (they call it Marz).  Most evenings I have the honor of walking home with two of the young women with whom I work.  One evening, it was only one of the young women, Narine.  We were chatting as we walked on this hot July day up the very steep hill toward our homes.  A young man pulled up in a car and said something to Narine.  Their conversation was in Armenian and very fast.  I understood nothing.

Narine, patient little Godsend that she is, doubles as my tutor.  She speaks excellent English and understands most of what I say.  She turned to me and explained that this was one of her oldest friends and he was offering us a ride up the hill.  I almost did not accept because I like the exercise the walk up my hill provides.  Something told me in Narine’s smile that she wanted me to accept the ride.  I climbed in to the front seat which is sometimes confusing here because the driver can be on the right or the left.  This car happened to be on the right.  My six-foot structure made the front seat better for me as Narine is quite tiny.  I have asked her to sit in the front seat of her father’s car when he has given us rides because of rain or lateness.  She always refuses and insists I sit in front.  Dynamite does come in small (maybe in her case, tiny) packages.  I know not to argue with her; I will never win.

The driver reached for my hand and we shook and greeted each other in Armenian.  He then said hello in English but explained he knew very little English.  I told him I knew very little Armenian.  He had the most curious look in his eyes like he wanted to talk.  Narine spoke for him.  She told me that her friend, Alec, had seen me playing my guitar in the park near our office and wanted to play guitar with me some time to learn some American music.  I was very flattered and said only if he would teach me some Armenian songs.  We had barley enjoined in conversation through Narine when we reached my house. We did not arrange a definite time to meet.  I thought I would ask Narine about helping arrange a meeting but I am so busy trying to learn basic language from her that I totally forgot.

I wandered into town on Saturday morning as I like to do.  I usually go to the park in the center of town and play guitar when it is not very crowded.  It is such a beautiful and peaceful place with its trees and playgrounds and fountain.  There is a coffee shop above the park and one almost in the park.  I usually go to the one above after I have played a while because they don’t open until later.  There are no 24-hour coffee shops in this quiet little down.  I played for about an hour, put my guitar in its case and went to the coffee shop. I wrote and drank coffee for about two hours.

As I walked home from the coffee shop, I was in no hurry. I reached the bottom of the hill leading to my home and noticed the little Memorial Park had a spot of shade that would shelter me from the hot sunny day.  I walked through the gate and sat on the little wall in the shade.  I like to play songs like “Imagine” in places like this memorializing people who died in war.   I had only played one song when I looked up and Narine’s friend, Alec, was walking in to my little hidden alcove with his guitar.  He sat beside me and listened to me finish what I was playing.  I asked him to teach me an Armenian song. (At least I think that is what I said in my beginner’s Armenian). He began playing this beautiful song in three chords (Am to Dm to Am to Em, simplistically represented here).  I gradually picked up the rhythm and joined him playing, but not in singing.  I could tell his melodic voice was telling a sad story even though I did not understand the words.  He stopped and told me it was a song about a soldier missing his love. I was so blown away that he made such a choice in this place.  I asked him to play more and he finished the song and played two more.  I would play rhythm to his chords as I figured them out, and was in awe of the  emotion I felt from his singing without understanding the words.

He asked me to play.  I chose to play “Knocking on Heaven’s Door” because of its simplicity. I thought he would pick it up but when I looked up he was recording me.  I was a bit embarrassed but wished I had thought to record him, so I could learn his songs better.  When I finished the song, he held out his guitar and I realized he wanted to exchange my dreadnaught for his classical.  He smiled and said Yamaha as he played my guitar.  We played a few more minutes but he had to leave, and we traded back our guitars.

I sat in the shade and tried to keep playing the song he showed me, so I would not forget it.  The rhythm was so similar to a standard 12 bar blues of A7 to D7 to E7 but it was all minor chords.  I realized that between us on Saturday there were probably not five direct sentences but we had spoken in music for an hour. I had a class planned with Narine for the next day and sent her a message asking if I could bring my guitar and show her the song I was trying to remember that her friend had shown me.  She told me of course. Then in a second reply (I can picture her laughing about this) she sent me the video her friend had made of me playing.  He had sent it to her to let her know we had met.  I hope he felt at least half as moved by the musical moment as I did.  I am sure Alec and I will meet again and communicate in the universal language of music.