Apricot Season

The Latin name for apricots is prunus armeniaca, because Europeans first encountered the apricot in Armenia. It’s one of our national fruits. They are everywhere now, sweet, juicy, delicious, fresh.

In Western Armenian, the word for rainbow is dzeeranee kod, lit. “apricot belt.” I saw a rainbow en route to Logan airport at the start of my journey, and another one today. And I do feel a little like Dorothy Gale. The things that you dare to dream really do come true.

Yet inside the sweet apricot is the pit. Armenia is poor. It is considered impolite to buy a take-out meal and eat it in a public park, because some people don’t have enough to eat.

The apartment I’m renting is an inside-out apricot. The exterior looks like a building that would be condemned in the U.S. — but the apartment inside is newly decorated, spotlessly clean, and completely functional.

This trip is very much about trying to get to the inside of things. I am doing oral history research with women involved in feminist organizations (some of which, of course, do not use the f-word, but nevertheless…) to try to get inside the lovely, gracious, generous exterior of the culture. There are hard pits in Armenian culture, of course. And yet, the generosity of the people is really overwhelming — everyone wants to help me. And whose to say that is only an exterior thing? I think generosity and welcome are central to this culture, and I wish U.S. culture would follow the splendid example of the Armenians.