Caucasian hospitality is known everywhere on our planet and even, perhaps, beyond its borders, in another galaxy they have also heard about it. But have you ever experienced this hospitality firsthand? Personally– yes!
If you want to know your essence and test your body for strength, you need to visit sunny Armenia. It was there that I became fully imbued with the mysteries of my own being.: stomach, pancreas, liver, and other previously unknown digestive organs. Every time I hear that one of my friends is going to go to Armenia, I conjure: “Don’t settle down with your family. Choose a European hotel and settle down as a hermit in the mountains, but not with your family. Otherwise, you will be fed to death!”
Initially, Tanka and I planned to live in Yerevan with her close friend’s mother. But two days before our arrival, my friend’s mother was taken to the hospital. And the day before our trip, Tanya decided to go to her doctor. However, her doctor was on vacation, and the appointment was conducted by another doctor. Actually, we rarely talk to doctors about our personal affairs, but then something made Tanka tell the Armenian doctor about our situation.
“Now we don’t know where to stay in Yerevan,– Tanka shared.
“How do you mean you don’t know?” The Armenian doctor suddenly got angry. – Why didn’t you say so right away?!
Of course, after all, when a person comes to the doctor, the first thing he says is not about his health, but about personal problems. Everything is logical.
The doctor dialed someone’s number and shouted happily into the phone.:
– Harut jan! Listen, Harut, my friends will come to you tomorrow, meet them and place them properly! What time does the plane arrive? – he has already addressed Tanya.
–At 18 o’clock, I think,” my friend stammered, not expecting such a turn.
– Harut, meet me at 18!
– You will live in Etchmiadzin! It is 20 kilometers from Yerevan! Will it work? – The doctor said, beaming.
Of course it wouldn’t suit us! Etchmiadzin is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and is considered the main spiritual center of the Armenian Apostolic Church. Roughly speaking, it’s like the Vatican in Rome.
And now we are standing with our suitcases on the threshold of a cozy rural house, from the living room window of which the Mother See of Holy Etchmiadzin (an entire monastery complex built in the IV century) is visible, and the head of the family and his son are preparing to slaughter their own lamb in order to meet their dear guests with dignity. The family in which Tanya and I settled consisted of the owner of the house, his wife, their son Arutha and his wife Mary, and two cheerful granddaughters.
On the first day, we gratefully ate everything. It was very tasty for us. But I usually can’t eat much, and I want to try a little of everything.
The second day was a real test for me. They gave us a feast. And everyone tried to personally treat something. The owner said, “Yulchik-jan, you’re so skinny, wai! Well, eat this and that!” Of course, you can’t offend the owner of the house by telling him: “I’ve already eaten this and that, thank you, it doesn’t fit anymore!” So, forcing a polite smile, I ate and ate all these dishes again. Then the son of the owner of the family came and was indignant: “Yulchik-jan! You’ve got so little on your plate! Aw, aw! Are you trying to offend me?” And they served me food again. Then the owner’s wife came running, who did not speak Russian at all. She threw up her hands, clutched her face, shook her head reproachfully, slapped her husband and son on the back of the head, after which they all put food on my plate again. When Mary came, I would politely hide my plate under the table. Then she would cry out, “Yulchik-jan! Where’s your plate?! Don’t you have a bowl?” She ran to get a new clean plate, and then all four of them threw food into it.
I felt bad that day. My body has been rejecting delicious kebabs, kufta, dolma, hashlama and other stunning goodies all night.
On the third day, Tanya told me: “We need to buy more pills for the stomach and drink them before eating, otherwise you and I will die!”
That’s what we did. Before each meal, we took packs of pills. We went to all sorts of tricks to avoid feasts – we deliberately returned late at night. But even at 00 o’clock, the hosts were waiting for us at a set table.
On the fifth day, we began to recall medieval tortures and executions with food. It turned out that Tanka and I are quite well-read people and we know how, for example, you can kill a man with mutton in combination with spring water.
“They used to do this in the time of Genghis Khan,– Tanya whispered, stretching blissfully in bed and looking at the playful moon that had mischievously landed right on the dome of the monastery. – Mutton fat freezes if you pour cold water over it. And so they were great in Mongolia, of course. I think I invited a man to a feast, nothing terrible. I gave you some fat mutton, but it’s a sin to refuse, isn’t it? And now drink some spring water, guest! And that’s it! Memento mori!
–Or the Chinese,– I’d say.
– Oh, the Chinese, they are generally professionals in the field of torture! And what were they doing with the food there?
– They placed a person in a limited space so that he moved little, and began to feed him beef, and the most tender pieces, without fat, bones and cartilage. And without salt yet. And the man died in terrible agony, because protein food in conditions of physical inactivity and lack of other components – vegetables, for example – stops being digested and begins to rot right in the stomach, creating intoxication of the whole organism.
– It’s good that we walk a lot! Tanya commented with relief.
– And there are plenty of vegetables here. Fruits too. In short, if we are in danger of death, it is not from intoxication, but stupidly from a stomach rupture.
“That doesn’t happen,” Tanya snapped. – The stomach is elastic and stretchy. So we’re unlikely to die. We’ll only get very fat.
These words of hers were confirmed on the seventh day, when early, early in the morning, around 5 o’clock, I woke up and realized that I was wildly hungry. Although we had dinner just about 12 o’clock at night.
– Congratulations! Tanya muttered gloomily. “Your stomach is stretched!” And now you will always want to eat!
When it was time to return to Moscow, Harut, the son of the owner of the house, came by car to take us to the airport. We hugged warmly and practically cried. Despite the fact that we were supposedly being fed for further sacrifice, we became very fond of these warm-hearted, hospitable people.
“We’ve brought you some food,” the owner of the house said, and Tanya and I shuddered.
They began loading the trunk successively with kilograms of basturma, cheese, kufta, churchkhella, ghats, mutton, sujukh, Sevan trout, alani, and jars of mulberry jam…
“Don’t,– we fought back weakly. “We’re not going to bring this up.”.. The plane won’t pick it up…
We realized how much we were wrong when we were already sitting in the cabin. The bags of food were dragged to us and loaded onto the luggage belt by Harut and his kind friends.
“Seryozha, bring more guys with you!”, “Dad, come meet me with the whole family!” – Tanya and I wrote messages to Moscow.
– Dear passengers! Due to technical reasons, the flight to Moscow is slightly delayed,” the pilot said in a tired voice.
We had been sitting in the salon for about an hour and twenty minutes.
“It’s all because of our luggage,” I said to Tanya with annoyance.
– No, it’s because of mine, – the neighbor sadly shared with us. – You see, they stuffed me with food, as if I were from the hungry Volga region!
–We understand,– Tanya and I nodded sympathetically.
–Uncle Aram, he grows strawberries,” the neighbor continued with a slight tremor in his voice. – We didn’t get to see him. And he says, “Wait, don’t leave, I’ll give you the strawberries!” I said to him, “How can you not leave? I have a plane in half an hour! He won’t wait!” “He will!” he says.
At that moment, we saw a loader with ten crates of strawberries rushing down the runway towards our plane at full speed. And they sighed sympathetically.
