Just a little history:
In 1915, just after World War 1, the Turkish systematically invaded their neighbouring country of Armenia in hopes to conquer and destroy it and turn it into a Muslim nation. Talk about Christians being persecuted for their beliefs, it is amazing to think of how the Armenian's stayed strong and faithful while being slaughtered by the thousands. And to choose Jesus still while looking death in the eye (that is if they were given a choice). It amazes me that I never heard of the Armenian Genocide before I met Jef because this is a nation that deserves respect for their faith and hope in the Lord. And their courage for still being a declared Christian nation surrounded by Muslim countries who are pressuring them constantly with threats. It was the first recorded modern genocide or holocaust with the total number of resulting Armenian deaths at 1-1.5 million. Not to mention the hundreds of thousands left to die, tortured and sold to slavery. Jef's family was involved in this genocide, his great grandfathers sister was one of the woman taken as a slave and raped until her right to bear children was taken away,and the rest of his family 5 brothers and sister and his parents and extended family apparently were forced to jump to their death. Turkey still does not even acknowledge that this event even happened, and it not taught in their textbooks so it will soon be forgotten by the new and upcoming generations. Before I visited the Armenian Genocide Museum, the word Genocide was just another word and the phrase "1-1.5 million killed" hadn't seeped in. It was just another issue or event that there was no face for so it elicited little emotion. These people and their remaining families deserve our prayer and respect not just on the basis of murder but also on the basis of faith, and the strength given to them by God.
Oh and although Jef states that we are not one of the countries mentioned at the monument, America was the cause for majority of Armenian orphans finding orphanages and support and was also the main country that raised support to help the Armenian's during this time. Within the museum we are recorded as a country that recognizes the term "genocide" and recognize that this was indeed what the Armenian's suffered.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
The Armenian Genocide Museum
Genocide memorial.
It was apparently erected only after the Armenian republic at the time of Russian control made a huge demand for recognition of the genocide. The Russian rule eventually gave in but to hide it from society the Russians built an amphitheatre four times the size directly in front of the only possible view point. I believe it was built at the very same time. The monument is twelve stone slabs that jet out from a platform with a space needle looking thing beside it. One is to pay respect to the 12 Armenian districts that were over taken and killed; the needle represents Armenian determination or hope for the nation to stay whole (something like that).
In the entrance are the declarations of all the nations and political leaders that have recognized the genocide publicly all carved into stone slabs encircling a cross.. By the by, America is not on that list. In the first hall is the breakdown of how many existing schools, people and churches we in each of the 12 districts, along with family portraits and town pictures. Erzram where my grandmother was from was one of the largest districts assimilated.
The entire rest of the museum I can’t convey. An artist named jean jansem painted around 12 abstract depictions of the slow death met by close to a million Armenian woman, though the very first you see is an interpretation of the slaughter brought on by death riding a pale horse. It softens the blow in contrast to the actual photographs. Though what I found out there about the photographs taken during the time completely blows my mind. This German cat named Wegner was working in the polish army as a nurse in route through turkey at the time of the mass murder. Wegner after viewing the slaughter started taking pictures against his superior’s orders. After Turkish demand he was forced to give up all his photo’s and was thrown in jail, but like a magician snuck some of the negatives in his belt and mailed them to Woodrow Wilson before his incarceration. Wilson then started to collect aid. After being released he returned to Germany again to find himself front and center for the Jewish holocaust. He was the only person to write a letter directly to Adolf Hitler giving him notice that his regime was unacceptable. As I recall he was also quite fervent in his public display of nazi rebellion. He was then sent to incarceration camp in Italy (I think) that he escaped from before the war was over.
Near the end was a diary of a missionary and the testimony of a travelling Arabian man and were absolutely awful in their detail but entirely necessary. I was glad to finally see a first person testimony of what actually happened to all these countless families, because despite all our pressure we just could never get our grandfather to dig up the memories. (There needs to be a word for glad that doesn’t mean happy)
The museum somewhat concluded our day except the cab ride home that consisted of sitting in traffic for 25 minutes to get about 6 blocks while watching a group of riled up locals partially assault a police officer.
It was apparently erected only after the Armenian republic at the time of Russian control made a huge demand for recognition of the genocide. The Russian rule eventually gave in but to hide it from society the Russians built an amphitheatre four times the size directly in front of the only possible view point. I believe it was built at the very same time. The monument is twelve stone slabs that jet out from a platform with a space needle looking thing beside it. One is to pay respect to the 12 Armenian districts that were over taken and killed; the needle represents Armenian determination or hope for the nation to stay whole (something like that).
In the entrance are the declarations of all the nations and political leaders that have recognized the genocide publicly all carved into stone slabs encircling a cross.. By the by, America is not on that list. In the first hall is the breakdown of how many existing schools, people and churches we in each of the 12 districts, along with family portraits and town pictures. Erzram where my grandmother was from was one of the largest districts assimilated.
The entire rest of the museum I can’t convey. An artist named jean jansem painted around 12 abstract depictions of the slow death met by close to a million Armenian woman, though the very first you see is an interpretation of the slaughter brought on by death riding a pale horse. It softens the blow in contrast to the actual photographs. Though what I found out there about the photographs taken during the time completely blows my mind. This German cat named Wegner was working in the polish army as a nurse in route through turkey at the time of the mass murder. Wegner after viewing the slaughter started taking pictures against his superior’s orders. After Turkish demand he was forced to give up all his photo’s and was thrown in jail, but like a magician snuck some of the negatives in his belt and mailed them to Woodrow Wilson before his incarceration. Wilson then started to collect aid. After being released he returned to Germany again to find himself front and center for the Jewish holocaust. He was the only person to write a letter directly to Adolf Hitler giving him notice that his regime was unacceptable. As I recall he was also quite fervent in his public display of nazi rebellion. He was then sent to incarceration camp in Italy (I think) that he escaped from before the war was over.
Near the end was a diary of a missionary and the testimony of a travelling Arabian man and were absolutely awful in their detail but entirely necessary. I was glad to finally see a first person testimony of what actually happened to all these countless families, because despite all our pressure we just could never get our grandfather to dig up the memories. (There needs to be a word for glad that doesn’t mean happy)
The museum somewhat concluded our day except the cab ride home that consisted of sitting in traffic for 25 minutes to get about 6 blocks while watching a group of riled up locals partially assault a police officer.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Before I continue, I want to apologize for any grammatical errors. Or anything that may have sounded confusing or scattered. Most of these posts are typed on Non-English key boards (whose keys are very sticky) and are written in the middle of the night in a last minute attempt to summarize our past week in order to get it posted for reading.
Day 3 Armenia:
We wake up the next day early, well earlier than before, and get ready to start our first tourist stop. The Monastery of Geghard was built back in like 1215 over a sacred spring and it was built into the mountainside and used to house the spear that had pierced Jesus's side, which was supposedly brought over by the Apostle Jude but is now held in a local museum. (I'm skeptical of the authenticity of that claim, especially since Armenian's like their folk tales) Since we were going on Sunday we were hoping to get the the Monastery on time to attend the church service, which we read up on and is very intricate and beautiful. Except for at the end they sacrafice an animal and boil it and feed it, that part is not so beautiful, but none the less we wanted to see it and take part. Since Armenia was the first declared Christian nation Jef and I had done some reading up on how their practices and beliefs may differ from America's. And it definitely differs and makes me think about and rethink about the way things are practised in western America and how boxed in many of us truly are.
So we call a taxi to head up that way and our taxi driver of course speaks to no English but is adorable and helpful all the same. Once we leave the city of Yerevan we get a taste of what Armenia and it's people are really about. There are rolling green hills, with Mount Ararat in the distance gorgeous as ever. There are random heard of sheep and cows everywhere, including in the roads. Well in Armenia their roads are barely even roads it's basically all broken up pavement with humongous pot holes. So we're swerving our way up into the hills I swear at a deadly speed, and no cars have seat belts, until we arrive at the Temple of Garni (an ancient Greek temple). So we have the same dialogue with the taxi driver over and over: Us "Ummm we want to go to Geghard, not Garni..NO Garni, NO Garni...Geghard" Taxi Driver, "YES Garni, you...blah blah blah (motions with his hands for us to get out and walk around)...Garni, YES" So we finally do what he says and buy tickets to the Temple of Garni and walk around it thinking that if we do so then he will be satisfied and take us where we need to go. The Temple of Garni truly was wonderful and was made to be perfect geometrically.
After walking around Garni we got back in the taxi and asked, "Geghard?" and he yells back "Geghard!" and so we all smile and were on our way. After driving by some flag dancers playing flutes and wearing masks we arrive at the Monastery of Geghard. It is placed right in the centre of all these mountains and rock faces next to a river. On the way up there are local villagers who had come and set up tables with their local goods. All the locals and old people of Armenia are incredibly adorable, all small and hunched and tan. There is to much about Geghard to really type but it is so intricately built with so much symbolism involved and it still houses clergy men and women over the summer. There are so many rooms just filled with carvings and the sacred fountain is still flowing inside where you can take drinks to heal yourself...we passed though (it looked kinda milky and was covered in children). Our taxi driver joined us on our excursion and basically became our tour guide. We all lit candles once inside for our prayers and then joined the service..which was GORGEOUS!
It is filled with old paintings and artifacts with carvings everywhere. All the clergy men were decked out in robes and the choir consisted of 5 women but sounded like four times that with how amazing the acoustics were in this room. People were coming in and out to say a prayer and none were dressed up so that was a good thing. Unfortunately the incense they were burning, which I guess burns bacteria, started to make my stomach hurt so we left after that and didn't stay for the sacrafice. We did buy some really huge and legit fruit roll ups from one of the local vendors though :)
We then headed back into town, thanked our cab driver and once again met up with David and one of our Armenian friends Shushan (Susan). We took the local subway (which we had no clue existed) got plenty more over exaggerated stares and laughs along the way, and went to some local sweet shops and cafes. Then climbed up to the top of this giant monument called The Cascade, which attaches the lower part of the city to the upper to watch the sunrise over the city and over the mountain of Ararat. We had dinner then said our goodbyes and Jef and I arrived back at our hostel to see our adorable little front desk man trying to hold his eyes open and laughing awkwardly at I don't know what. Then we slept basically.
Day 3 Armenia:
We wake up the next day early, well earlier than before, and get ready to start our first tourist stop. The Monastery of Geghard was built back in like 1215 over a sacred spring and it was built into the mountainside and used to house the spear that had pierced Jesus's side, which was supposedly brought over by the Apostle Jude but is now held in a local museum. (I'm skeptical of the authenticity of that claim, especially since Armenian's like their folk tales) Since we were going on Sunday we were hoping to get the the Monastery on time to attend the church service, which we read up on and is very intricate and beautiful. Except for at the end they sacrafice an animal and boil it and feed it, that part is not so beautiful, but none the less we wanted to see it and take part. Since Armenia was the first declared Christian nation Jef and I had done some reading up on how their practices and beliefs may differ from America's. And it definitely differs and makes me think about and rethink about the way things are practised in western America and how boxed in many of us truly are.
So we call a taxi to head up that way and our taxi driver of course speaks to no English but is adorable and helpful all the same. Once we leave the city of Yerevan we get a taste of what Armenia and it's people are really about. There are rolling green hills, with Mount Ararat in the distance gorgeous as ever. There are random heard of sheep and cows everywhere, including in the roads. Well in Armenia their roads are barely even roads it's basically all broken up pavement with humongous pot holes. So we're swerving our way up into the hills I swear at a deadly speed, and no cars have seat belts, until we arrive at the Temple of Garni (an ancient Greek temple). So we have the same dialogue with the taxi driver over and over: Us "Ummm we want to go to Geghard, not Garni..NO Garni, NO Garni...Geghard" Taxi Driver, "YES Garni, you...blah blah blah (motions with his hands for us to get out and walk around)...Garni, YES" So we finally do what he says and buy tickets to the Temple of Garni and walk around it thinking that if we do so then he will be satisfied and take us where we need to go. The Temple of Garni truly was wonderful and was made to be perfect geometrically.
After walking around Garni we got back in the taxi and asked, "Geghard?" and he yells back "Geghard!" and so we all smile and were on our way. After driving by some flag dancers playing flutes and wearing masks we arrive at the Monastery of Geghard. It is placed right in the centre of all these mountains and rock faces next to a river. On the way up there are local villagers who had come and set up tables with their local goods. All the locals and old people of Armenia are incredibly adorable, all small and hunched and tan. There is to much about Geghard to really type but it is so intricately built with so much symbolism involved and it still houses clergy men and women over the summer. There are so many rooms just filled with carvings and the sacred fountain is still flowing inside where you can take drinks to heal yourself...we passed though (it looked kinda milky and was covered in children). Our taxi driver joined us on our excursion and basically became our tour guide. We all lit candles once inside for our prayers and then joined the service..which was GORGEOUS!
It is filled with old paintings and artifacts with carvings everywhere. All the clergy men were decked out in robes and the choir consisted of 5 women but sounded like four times that with how amazing the acoustics were in this room. People were coming in and out to say a prayer and none were dressed up so that was a good thing. Unfortunately the incense they were burning, which I guess burns bacteria, started to make my stomach hurt so we left after that and didn't stay for the sacrafice. We did buy some really huge and legit fruit roll ups from one of the local vendors though :)
We then headed back into town, thanked our cab driver and once again met up with David and one of our Armenian friends Shushan (Susan). We took the local subway (which we had no clue existed) got plenty more over exaggerated stares and laughs along the way, and went to some local sweet shops and cafes. Then climbed up to the top of this giant monument called The Cascade, which attaches the lower part of the city to the upper to watch the sunrise over the city and over the mountain of Ararat. We had dinner then said our goodbyes and Jef and I arrived back at our hostel to see our adorable little front desk man trying to hold his eyes open and laughing awkwardly at I don't know what. Then we slept basically.
Day 2 Armenia
Well after having to fall asleep to the sound of gunshots right outside our window we once again get woken up by the hostel staff telling us we had to leave the premise so they can do their mandatory "cleaning fest". So we once again escape out into the blazing hot city dazed and confused but this time we feel a little more confident after our previous nights excursions. We go over to the "nice side of town" to some cafes in order to try the "wonderfully cheap and amazing coffee" that our over enthusiastic roommate couldn't stop talking about. Once we arrived bibles and journals in hand ready to spend a day relaxing we sat down in some of the comfy looking seats and ordered some of the cheapest things on the menu. Unfortunately every place in Armenia, and vehicle that drives by is playing obnoxiously loud, and bad I may as well add, American pop music. So Jef couldn't focus to read or write so we decide to leave and our bill is way over the price of what we ordered. It turns out that certain areas of cafes charge you a ridiculous amount of money just to sit there. So Jef's anger level is rising but I wanted a milkshake so we went to the neighbouring cafe just to get servers that seem to want to get hit by a car to not look us foreigners in the eye and or serve on us. It's weird that we don't stop getting stares from any random person on the street but when it comes to those that we want to notice us, servers, they would gladly look the other way at all costs. Anyways, I guess this story is not to interesting since I do eventually get my awful chocolate milkshake and I leave unsatisfied and Jef leaves pissed.
We go back to the hostel and meet up with our buddy David again, who is opening for a local show in town so we decide to go check that out. He was super nervous talking about how he couldn't remember his lyrics, and he is in a New York band back home, so I was getting a little nervous for him but Jef and I supported him all the same. We were at a local bar/club that was built in order to host shows since you could see the stage no matter what floor or area of the club you were in. It was pretty crowded and we made friends really quickly with a couple of local fellows and some others that were in the bands. Then David took the stage, just guitar in hand, and he was incredible! He absolutely blew Jef and I away. He sounded a lot like the lead singer of The Format or from one of mine and Jef's favorite bands Buster Blue. After his set a local Armenian band came up and we disliked them from the beginning. They were super showy and the music was not very good, none of it was unique or stood out and the lead singer kept stopping the rest of the band mid song to tell them that were playing wrong and then she would restart. After that band came the main band who we met before the show. They are from New York as well and the stand up base player went to Chico! They definitely stole the crowd and were probably one of the best bands I have ever heard. Very folksy, the lead singer\band name is Sima Cunningham and her little brother (the stand up bass player) is a scrawny little white guy with a Jew Fro and was just dripping with bluesy soul.
We stayed out pretty darn late that night, we went to couple local bars after the show with Sima and her band and David. We went to one bar where everyone sits on floor pillows and the walls are covered in tapestries and everyone gets up and dances in the middle. It was wonderful and packed full. We then walked back with a drunken David who talked of moving to California and living in our tree house (probably just false hopes).
That night was a good night...and we slept soundly absent from the sounds of gunshots.
We go back to the hostel and meet up with our buddy David again, who is opening for a local show in town so we decide to go check that out. He was super nervous talking about how he couldn't remember his lyrics, and he is in a New York band back home, so I was getting a little nervous for him but Jef and I supported him all the same. We were at a local bar/club that was built in order to host shows since you could see the stage no matter what floor or area of the club you were in. It was pretty crowded and we made friends really quickly with a couple of local fellows and some others that were in the bands. Then David took the stage, just guitar in hand, and he was incredible! He absolutely blew Jef and I away. He sounded a lot like the lead singer of The Format or from one of mine and Jef's favorite bands Buster Blue. After his set a local Armenian band came up and we disliked them from the beginning. They were super showy and the music was not very good, none of it was unique or stood out and the lead singer kept stopping the rest of the band mid song to tell them that were playing wrong and then she would restart. After that band came the main band who we met before the show. They are from New York as well and the stand up base player went to Chico! They definitely stole the crowd and were probably one of the best bands I have ever heard. Very folksy, the lead singer\band name is Sima Cunningham and her little brother (the stand up bass player) is a scrawny little white guy with a Jew Fro and was just dripping with bluesy soul.
We stayed out pretty darn late that night, we went to couple local bars after the show with Sima and her band and David. We went to one bar where everyone sits on floor pillows and the walls are covered in tapestries and everyone gets up and dances in the middle. It was wonderful and packed full. We then walked back with a drunken David who talked of moving to California and living in our tree house (probably just false hopes).
That night was a good night...and we slept soundly absent from the sounds of gunshots.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Forced outside to Disco Dance
Whilst walking around downtown yerevan, directly under the mid day sun, jet-lagged, confused, hungry, and not even able to use a bathroom because our hostel has locked us out we realize two things: 1st The warning we got that the ONLY thing armenians do is glare you down, is a full blown understatement. and 2nd this freak'n sucks.
About the awkward silence and stare. You know in movies when someone walks into a bar and you hear the record player screech and every single bar member stops in their tracks and stares daggers at the protagonist of the movie. Yeah, every second of every day is like that in this country. We are in a constant state of watching everyone stop, mid-sentence, mid-walk, mid-everything, to stop and turn around completely and stare until their unibrows start to smoulder. This is also often occompanied by pointing, talking shit, and laughing histerically. I think a pretty massive undertone of my family is starting to make sense.
After we pull the plug on there being any possible way for us to be outside and NOT feel like we're in the ending scene of "The birds" we call it quits and shut ourselves inside.
If you need clarification: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-CRkq5zjfI&feature=related
This is where we are introduced to Mr. David Bechle and a way too jolly Britan named Jonathon.
Jonathon is just so rabidly happy and excited about everything in armenia that we have to completely disregard anything he has to say. He's just to damned enthusiastic for us to suffer at this point.
David just got back from renting a car and touring basically the whole country and is a lot more toned down. He then tells us he will be playing a show in yerevan the next day and invited us to english pop night at one of the local clubs. This turned out to be helariously epic. We showed up with david's tiny and weird little armenian friend that danced his ass off with 30 other locals, to the sounds of david bowey and iggy pop. This kid's dance routine was indescribable. If you were to mix an out of water fish with a puppet being tugged on by a 5 year old you've basically got his dancing style. And it never stopped, the entire night. Combined with some of the most glamorous arm dancing from all the other 29 performers made it probably one of the most akwardly epic grown-up version of a school dances I've ever seen. Good times.
Our little trio leaves in search more retro disco action to find absolutely nothing but settle for amazing shwarmas and head home.
About the awkward silence and stare. You know in movies when someone walks into a bar and you hear the record player screech and every single bar member stops in their tracks and stares daggers at the protagonist of the movie. Yeah, every second of every day is like that in this country. We are in a constant state of watching everyone stop, mid-sentence, mid-walk, mid-everything, to stop and turn around completely and stare until their unibrows start to smoulder. This is also often occompanied by pointing, talking shit, and laughing histerically. I think a pretty massive undertone of my family is starting to make sense.
After we pull the plug on there being any possible way for us to be outside and NOT feel like we're in the ending scene of "The birds" we call it quits and shut ourselves inside.
If you need clarification: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-CRkq5zjfI&feature=related
This is where we are introduced to Mr. David Bechle and a way too jolly Britan named Jonathon.
Jonathon is just so rabidly happy and excited about everything in armenia that we have to completely disregard anything he has to say. He's just to damned enthusiastic for us to suffer at this point.
David just got back from renting a car and touring basically the whole country and is a lot more toned down. He then tells us he will be playing a show in yerevan the next day and invited us to english pop night at one of the local clubs. This turned out to be helariously epic. We showed up with david's tiny and weird little armenian friend that danced his ass off with 30 other locals, to the sounds of david bowey and iggy pop. This kid's dance routine was indescribable. If you were to mix an out of water fish with a puppet being tugged on by a 5 year old you've basically got his dancing style. And it never stopped, the entire night. Combined with some of the most glamorous arm dancing from all the other 29 performers made it probably one of the most akwardly epic grown-up version of a school dances I've ever seen. Good times.
Our little trio leaves in search more retro disco action to find absolutely nothing but settle for amazing shwarmas and head home.
A polish layover and Day one armenia
In poland, they love their booze, chocolate, and the pope. Although I was kind of disappointed with it all. I was expecting to get in and find like 4 pound polish dogs and the locals walking around with dog shit in their hand saying "Look at what I almost stepped in!". Absolutely none of these unique polish fantasies were true at all... Sad day. My hot dog was pretty good, but easily 3 lbs and about 4,000 calories under what it should be. The poles are awesomely devoted though, the airport came fully loaded with a catholic chapel in the east side of our terminal, we were impressed.
We end up getting more or less locked in our gate, which could have doubled as a meat locker, I get a nap and around 10 we load our flight.
Arrival
We get in around 5, start getting through all the passport checkpoints and realize that armenia is the only country that wants all the documentation possible. "Your boarding pass please? baggage ticket? do you have the tag on your pillow? would you please submit the receipt for the toblerone you bought in poland?" We have absolutely nothing and they just let us by regardless which makes you wonder if this whole checkpoint is just a place to put overstaffed employees.
We get outside the terminal, amazingly enough, to find a very tired looking cabby holding a sign. I still can't believe they got our last minute email that we're showing up around this time and just some-what thinking about staying at their hostel. I'm pretty sure the walk from the terminal to the cab took a year off of the cabby's life. He was tripping over everything and is working past a SERIOUS wheeze, I honestly feel like I should have given him a piggy back over the 30 yards to car. I feel kinda bad.
We drive through southeastern yerevan to our hostel and once again a look at the architecture makes you expect to then look at the sidewalk and find a legion of zombies out marauding for flesh. BUT i finally see mount ararat on the drive; the birthplace of the most extravagant christian folklore in the world.
When we got to our hostel we basically slept until 1pm ( which is when they kick us out to clean"... but really I'm not at all sure what they actually do with the time, it looks exactly the same when we return.
We end up getting more or less locked in our gate, which could have doubled as a meat locker, I get a nap and around 10 we load our flight.
Arrival
We get in around 5, start getting through all the passport checkpoints and realize that armenia is the only country that wants all the documentation possible. "Your boarding pass please? baggage ticket? do you have the tag on your pillow? would you please submit the receipt for the toblerone you bought in poland?" We have absolutely nothing and they just let us by regardless which makes you wonder if this whole checkpoint is just a place to put overstaffed employees.
We get outside the terminal, amazingly enough, to find a very tired looking cabby holding a sign. I still can't believe they got our last minute email that we're showing up around this time and just some-what thinking about staying at their hostel. I'm pretty sure the walk from the terminal to the cab took a year off of the cabby's life. He was tripping over everything and is working past a SERIOUS wheeze, I honestly feel like I should have given him a piggy back over the 30 yards to car. I feel kinda bad.
We drive through southeastern yerevan to our hostel and once again a look at the architecture makes you expect to then look at the sidewalk and find a legion of zombies out marauding for flesh. BUT i finally see mount ararat on the drive; the birthplace of the most extravagant christian folklore in the world.
When we got to our hostel we basically slept until 1pm ( which is when they kick us out to clean"... but really I'm not at all sure what they actually do with the time, it looks exactly the same when we return.
Bit piece about greece's efficiency
So I'm totally amazed at this niche market that Greece has stumbled upon. It's a full rotation of efficiency marketing. So you get into Greece and buy mineral water, because it is literally the only type of liquid in a bottle that isn't soda or 8 euro a bottle juice. Drink it down and then shit fire while feeling like a gaggle of hedgehogs are trying to tear out of your abdomen. Then from that point drink more and more of the devil water now because you're totally dehydrated. And you're a little worried about dying and being found resembling an empty ketchup packet perched on a toilet. So you spend the rest of the night drinking mineral water and start this amazingly engenuitive process all over again, while spending two euro's a bottle to accompany your own rendition of kabuki theater in the bathroom. Awesome.
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