I remember when I first arrived in Boston six years ago. Everything was new to me, especially the concept of hearing Armenian spoken on the street. I transferred up from New York to study graphic design. I got my own apartment, and that moment was truly a turning point in my life. Life didn't seem so hopeless anymore. For a while I thought there was no end to the things I could explore here. It seemed the more Armenians I met, the more I realized how many Armenians I haven't met. The greatest thing about living in Watertown was realizing that I could go to an Armenian for just about everything I needed. I looked for an apartment through an Armenian broker. I worked for Armenians, shopped at a Supermarket owned by Armenians. I just saw a busline drive by yesterday called Gulbankians... owned by an Armenian. First job out of high school... no Armenians, but it turned out one of them had a landlord who was Armenian, who owns Ararat restaurant, and another co-worker lived upstairs from an Armenian who played the oud. I used to go out to the Middle East ever Wednesday night for Armenian music. Drive down Mt. Auburn through Watertown and all the stores are Armenian... including the funeral homes. When I look just a little bit closer at every corner, I remember all the memories I had here. They really shaped who I am today.

Some of my favorites... I remember the first time I moved to Roxbury, I had a party at my apartment and my brother-in-law used my phone books to burn for a barbeque on my fire escape (ironiv indeed). I remember sitting on my porch in Watertown with a couple friends at 3am watching strange people walkind down the street talking to themselves and breakdancing out of nowhere. I remember dancing with Sayat Nova and finding a new inspiration. I remember more recently driving a new friend to Montreal, but taking 3 hours to leave Harvard Square with having my car towed among other problems (that was a great time). I remember receiving the phone call from the person who asked me to move to Armenia to work for AIM. I remember the MANY nights spent at Donohue's for ten cent wing nights and steak tips and the Irish bartender greeting us with "Parev Tzez." I remember driving AYF juniors to every AYF event and laughing while they played with the radio the whole way. I remember the Steering Committee party after AYF Olympics in Boston when my friend slipped and fell on broken glass, only to be rushed to the hospital for stiches and hearing him say... now I have a scar that will help me remember this night forever. I remember walking around Harvard Square any given night in the summer and finding our Armenian friends playing chess and hanging out.

The list could last forever, or at least six years. But it's funny how it takes something like moving away to reflect on the great times spent on familiar streets. I went through this when I moved to Armenia. Now again. But there is something to be said about Boston. There are times that I curse the day I ever moved here, but so few and far between. When it comes down to it, this is the place that defined who I am, especially as an Armenian.

Now I go back home where I grew up... with maybe one other Armenian family in my town that I know. I know I've taken Boston forgranted and I'll realize how great it really is when it's gone, but it's comfortable here. They weren't kidding... where everyone knows your name.