But with borrowed videos, and figuring out ALL BY MYSELF how to load a video, and kicking myself for not bringing my own camera, I'm going to tell you something you probably didn't already know. My friend Armine, mother of Ani and Araks, lives on the outskirts of the city. She is a provident, and talented woman. God told her that Friday was the only day she would have left to make her years' supply of pasta (and He was right because it's been raining and windy ever since and you'll understand the significance of that in a minute.) Armine has great faith and great gratitude for every blessing she has. And she listens.
So she brought in 100 kilos of flour, and all the neighbors she could find, and all day and into the night and the next day they made pasta.
After they have made the dough they throw it onto the floor, (between sheets of plastic) and knead it by dancing on it for two hours! Then they roll it out, slice it, and stretch it out with the technique of wrapping it around their arms.
They hang it outside, one long strand at a time, on the clotheslines to dry. It's an amazing and beautiful sight. That afternoon we feasted on fresh pasta topped with yogurt, garlic and butter, and it was as delicious as anything I've ever eaten. From a kitchen with no running water and a woman with an endless supply of energy, who gives me the best haircuts, and, in fact, cut my hair after lunch that very day. I did catch her yawning during our Vanadzor Tabernacle Choir rehearsal this afternoon. She can yawn and sing at the same time.
That's Armine you're hearing, and here's a quick Armenian lesson: you hear her saying "jan, jan" over and over, which means "dear". For instance I am Quir Blunck-jan, and appropriately this segment ends with "shat lav" which means "very good".
