Talking about the weather

Okay, posts about the weather are boring. Still, there is a point in there. Two points. One, Armenia is weird. You have long, furnace-like summers; mellow pleasant autumns; short but brutal winters; and stormy, rainy springs. There's no close American equivalent to this. There's no part of the United States where you'd have two feet of snow on the ground for weeks at a time, but also have a growing season that allows brandy grapes and good tobacco. It's a Mediterranean climate, but pushed inland and several thousand feet up a mountain side. (And, you know, it's not bad. I don't much love winter, but climates without it seem... a little lacking. So a winter that is serious but short is a decent compromise.) Two, when you live in the former Soviet Union, weather is a little more in your face.

First, there's the house. So far this winter we've had a total freeze with ruptured pipes, a flood caused some days later by one of those pipes belatedly melting, and electrical problems caused by the flood. The heating system (Soviet era boiler, Iranian electrics) randomly shuts itself off every day or two, and someone has to go out to the shed in the yard to switch it back on. The roof leaks in a couple of places, and melting snow trickles in. We're not complaining. We live better than most in this country. I'm just saying that when the weather gets extreme, we sit up and take notice faster than the average urban American. (It's true in the summer, too. The house has no air conditioning, which is mostly no big deal, but for a few weeks in July and August it does get pretty stifling. Fortunately it's dry heat, but still.) Second, there's the infrastructure. The roads are not in great condition and the winter has turned up some truly savage potholes. One of them destroyed a tire on our car last week... Claudia drove into it by mistake and, bam, tire blown. Side roads don't get plowed and they turn into sheets of ice. It makes getting around much slower. You think twice before going out for a quart of milk or something. It's not like we're in a cabin in Siberia or something, but it definitely changes your lifestyle. So the weather is a topic of some interest here. That said, okay, enough weather for a while. What do you want to read about?

Comments

[Jussi Jalonen]

Hm. What would be interesting?

Why don't you continue with the descriptions of everyday life, since that seems to work already? What are the local pastime interests? Are there shooting ranges offering possibilities to vent one's frustrations? Have you done any hunting, or perhaps ice-fishing in the local mountain lakes, or do you know anyone who has done? Is there any nearby place downtown where one could dance tango? Are there any local amateur brass bands that like to hold performances? How do the Armenians celebrate their equivalent of the currently-ongoing Shrovetide, if at all?

That should get something going, no? Or, if you want to write something politically substantial, well, the last day's news told a story of the ongoing police cooperation program between Estonia and Georgia, through which Georgian policemen are trained in Estonia. Does Armenia have similar contract with any of the more fortunate former Soviet republics?

Cheers,
Jalonen

[Carlos]

There used to be quite a bit of tobacco grown in Wisconsin, pipe and chaw, in the more Norwegian areas. (Two feet of snow? Eh.) The rise of the cigar and the cigarette put paid to that.

I'm not sure why wines haven't taken off on the western shore of Lake Michigan. The lucrative ice wines especially would seem to be a natural, and the Riesling or Gewurtztraminer would fit local tastes. They're not brandy grapes, of course, but the area is more suited for applejack or kirsch production anyway.

Anyway, digression. No pomegranates in Wisconsin: advantage, Armenia!