My Daily Obstacle Course

So I know I promised to talk about the Russian language in Moldova, but I feel like I've done a fair amount of heavy-lifting on the blog this week so I thought I'd take a break to write about the perplexing underground shopping experience that I encounter daily in Armenia.

One of the quirks of Soviet city design is that city planners were rather fond of underground pedestrian crossings. I’m not sure exactly when this started, but given that there aren’t many of them in Moldova (which was incorporated after World War II), it might be a pre-war phenomenon. As long as the underground crossings are relatively well-maintained, it’s actually a brilliant idea. You don’t have the stressful experience of trying to cross a major street, and you don’t have to wait to cross, you just have to go underground.

Yerevan has several extensive pedestrian underpasses. One, until recently, held an large used book market, as well as what amounted to a department store. (Apparently, it’s being remodeled—it was quite dilapidated—and the booksellers have been displaced.)

I go through one of these underpasses on my way to the archives every day, and it never fails to confound me. In order to get to both archives, I have to go through one of the city’s major hubs—Barekamutyun [Friendship] Square. There are no crosswalks whatsoever aboveground, so you have to go underground. (Jaywalking here would be taking your life into your own hands.)

Descending into the underworld...ok, mall

Already when you are descending the stairs, you pass a small warren of shops. Shoe repair, vegetable sellers, clothing stores—you name it. Once you get underground, you enter what is basically become an underground mall. The underground crossing is circular, with turn-offs for the four major streets that meet at Barekamutyun. There is also a metro stop located on one side of the circle. Given that all pedestrians have to go through the underground crossing to go anywhere on this square, it’s sort of brilliant to have the thing lined with shops on both sides. 

This picture is fairly terrible but I felt creepy taking
pictures of shoppers. By the way, the upper sign
(ЯРМАРКА) is in Russian, but the lower one is in
Armenian.

The stores here are mostly your usual little market stalls. Places here sell linens, housewares, phone cases, beauty supplies, baby clothes that say “Half Armenian is better than nothing!”, soccer jerseys, shoes, nuts, and coffee. Since arriving to Yerevan, I have purchased corn, a cutting board, a paring knife, two towels, a peeler, wooden spoons, a nail clipper, and a pumice stone here. Most of these things I got while I was on my way to and from work. Oh, and there’s also a shop that sells shwarma where I got my lunch today. 

I think the other secret to the success of these shops is that this thing is a maze. Since all the shops look more or less alike, it’s easy to lose track of where you are. (“Ok, last time I went to the former Communist Party archive, I exited near the shoe shop? Wait, this shoe shop? Or another one? Hmm, those shoes are kind of cute...” Etc.) There are signs, but not all exits have them. Moreover, because these are major streets and there are no crosswalks aboveground, you not only have to pick the exit for the right street, but you also have to make sure you’re on the right side of the street, or you risk going out of your way looking in vain for a place to cross the street aboveground.

All in all, despite the confusion I experience twice daily at the Barekamutyun underground passage, I do enjoy it. After all, where in the U.S. can you safely cross the street AND pick up a Chinese cutting board for the low, low price of 1000 dram ($2.50)?