"The kinds of experiences that you're having impress me. It isn't simply that you're experiencing something new or living in an environment so estranged and separated from the business and problems of everyday American life, but that you've been given the opportunity to change through the circumstances that only life can provide on its own terms."
–Excerpted from an email exchange with a friend from America in April 2024
Erebuni Fortress looking out to Mount Ararat on a warm afternoon.
At my university, UC Berkeley, (now my Alma Mater, having graduated in May 2024), we sometimes talk about the “Berkeley Bubble.” This refers to the notion that we spend our academic lives at Berkeley, and our worldviews are accordingly centered on that. All of us, of course, have our own bubbles—but as Americans, one might say that we exist in the “America Bubble.” Studying abroad with American Councils in Armenia in Spring 2024, I didn’t just leave the “Berkeley Bubble,” but also the “America Bubble.”
When I applied to American Councils’ RLASP, I had the opportunity to choose between either studying Russian in Armenia or Kazakhstan for the semester. I chose Armenia particularly because of the people in my life from Armenia, who were very encouraging to me. It’s also the reason why I opted to take supplementary Armenian classes at the American Councils office in Yerevan when we were offered the opportunity.
For someone from California, arriving to snow in Yerevan was an experience. It was cold, but warming to the heart. All of us American students had different lives in Yerevan, and I found mine centered on my life at home with my host family. It was different to wake up and speak Russian all the time at home, when in America my Russian-speaking places were my Slavic Department, my Russian-speaking friends, and the Russian stores I liked to frequent. There’s a joy in watching a Soviet movie with your host parents, knowing that you couldn’t have the same experience in America, coming from a household where Russian isn’t spoken. And there’s a joy in chatting with your family about anything and everything over the Armenian coffee or tea that I grew to love while I was there. It’s the little things that count.
Afternoon melting snow in the winter at the Yerevan train station
The best memories were the ones spent with others, and the ones that involved integrating into a new culture. I got to experience ordering fast food in Russian for the first time with a friend, and have many deep conversations with said friend over the course of the spring. I made friends with the cats in Yerevan’s famed one-line metro, and accordingly got to know the announcements in English, Russian, and Armenian very well. And I found my favorite dessert in all of Yerevan—Grand Candy ponchiks (the chocolate ones are the best!). It was a joy to be able to use Russian in all parts of my daily life, as opposed to having to go out of my way for it, while also polishing my Russian at the university. In the end, I got to return to America with all the confidence in the world that I could keep and maintain friendships and other relationships in just Russian.
But one of the biggest impressions from my time in Armenia is just that: leaving both the “Berkeley Bubble” and the “America Bubble.” The question I was often asked in Armenia (whether it was on the street, in a café, or in a taxi) was “Why Armenia?”, predictably followed by “What do you like about Armenia?”. After enough time there, my answer to the second question was very simple: the kindness. I contrast my experiences in Armenia with mine in America: a society that, in many ways, is more communal, more “human-centered.” In America, we enjoy a very individualistic culture. We can do many things—in fact, the sky’s the limit. On the other hand, the modern American culture can also be a very isolating one, which wasn’t the case in Armenia. This was a lovely change in pace.
The evenings spent with coffee in hand, chatting away about life, and the afternoons spent wandering around Kentron have made a lasting impression. My Russian got better—a lot better, actually. But someone close to me in Yerevan observed something more important: I got better, as a human being, too. I sometimes wonder if we (that is, we Americans) wouldn’t be kinder as a society if we did some things that I observed and experienced firsthand: hugged each other more, gave flowers to each other more, actually talked to each other more.
A rainy day in Kentron at the entrance of the "Republic Square" Metro Station
I’m of course writing now in retrospect, having been returned to the “America Bubble.” I miss my second family and think of them often. I’ll always have them (including my backyard cats!) in my heart, of course. My friends and family from Armenia will be there every time I use my Russian... or make coffee just the way I was taught to by my host mom there. I suppose study abroad didn’t just make my Russian better—it made me better too.
Fulbright-Hays Fellowship Recipient
Advanced Russian Language and Area Studies Program
Yerevan, Armenia, Spring 2024