Celebrating Armenia’s Water Festival + Video
Cultural Delight
Last Sunday, Armenians celebrated Vardavar, the country’s annual water festival. It is a nationwide event and pure fun.
With pagan origins, the celebration was a tribute to the Astghik, the goddess of love, beauty, and water in Armenian mythology. The splashing of water symbolized purification and renewal. Today, the festival is more of a massive community water fight to celebrate life.
I eagerly anticipated the festivities, taking a full day to select my water weapon of choice: a 6-inch lime green plastic pistol with a yellow tip.
I also carefully dressed for the occasion: flip-flops, bathing suit, black shorts & t-shirt (white is see-through!), and a large-brimmed sunhat. I even wore my contacts instead of glasses to ensure I could see my targets clearly.
I placed my money, keys, and phone in a plastic bag that fit around my wrist, and at 2:00 that afternoon, set out. The sun was shining brightly, and with my squirt gun in hand, I was ready to engage the enemy.
I had about a 15-minute walk to Swan Lake (named after Stalin’s favorite ballet), a medium-sized pool in the middle of the city. I figured it would be a manageable size. (Honestly, I was a little afraid of the mayhem promised at the extra-large fountains in Yerevan’s Republic Square.)
As I proceeded to the city’s central battleground, the hierarchy of water chaos became clear. In order from least to most dangerous:
Drive-by bazookas: They issued a steady stream, but the aim was sometimes off, depending on the skill of the driver and speed of the car. Bus stops proved to be good hideouts.
Normal-variety garden hoses: Standing outside their shops, grown men were just waiting for you to pass by. No escape. And the water was cold. Sometimes, they acted a little ashamed, but mostly not.
Plastic pails: It soon became apparent that the lowly pail was optimal: full sheet of water, easy to maneuver (ie, dump it over someone’s head), and fast refill. This was the weapon of choice for most.
Balcony bucket bombs: True trouble. Can’t see it coming, no avoiding a drenching, and no way to retaliate.
To make up for my squirt gun’s lack of stamina and power, I chose precision. My favorite trick was to “hide” behind a lamppost and hit people in the back of the neck as they passed (maybe even the ear if I got a good look). Sort of a sucker-punch, yes, but I was out-gunned and needed to resort to trickery.
If I were lucky, my target thought it was the person walking behind them, and I got to enjoy the chain of retribution I created. Sometimes, though, they knew it was me, and then I was doomed. After laughing at my toy gun, I usually got it full-on in the face.
The most dangerous time turned out to be during the refill. Unfortunately, given the size of my squirt gun, I needed to frequently reload.
I was like a gazelle at a watering hole, praying that I wouldn’t be attacked by the animals in the water or the ones pacing the perimeter. I proved to be an easy target and got full buckets of cold water dumped on top of my head many times.
The walk home also turned out to be dicey as I had to navigate the perilous journey that was the sidewalk: swerve too close to the curb, you were the target of drive-bys; stick too close to the houses, you set yourself up for a balcony bomb.
As I walked along, eyes darting back and forth, I noticed a twenty-year-old dude hanging out on his front steps, his arm suspiciously concealed. Ambush! I looked him dead in the eye and we started laughing because there was no escape.
I ran as quickly as I could (in wet flip-flops on uneven pavement), squealing mightily as I passed. He unloaded his soaker on me as I feebly tried to defend myself—Pew! Pew! Pew! But he had been lying in wait all day for prey like me and was ready with an extra bucket by his side for a fast reload. I was a goner.
I finally made it home, smiling and laughing. It was such a great afternoon, full of camaraderie, good spirits, and old-fashioned fun. The celebration of Vardavar and the warm invitation to join in the festivities, even as an outsider, inspired me to love Armenia and its joyous people.
This is why I travel. 🦋
What is one event that you learned about while overseas? Did you participate or observe? Did you feel like part of the local community?
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Christened “Wander Woman” by National Geographic, Erin Michelson is a professional speaker and author of the Nomad Life™ series of travel books and guides, including the #1-ranked “Explore the World with Nomads.”
How fun!!