Based on true events, though the names have been changed to protect privacy

Arman's parents moved from Gyumri to Chuvashia when Arman was still a teenager.

When Arman grew up and the time came for him to marry, he had to follow the ancient tradition of marrying not only an Armenian girl, but one from his hometown. After all, Gyumri is famous for its respect for tradition, in addition to the sense of humor of its residents. Arman and his parents came to Gyumri on a 21-day trip aimed at finding a bride.

They could not stay longer – there was nobody to mind the business while they were away. They had not been set an easy task – scouring the city for three weeks for a “suitable” bride with the help of family and friends.

The script usually works out this way – the Armenian boy, who lives in America, Russia, Argentina or elsewhere, calls his “brothers” in Armenia and asks them to find him a “good girl.” He lists out a few criteria, although the “brothers” usually already have some idea; they are the standard requirements of being beautiful, modest and “wholesome.”

The girl is found and the boy then comes to Armenia for a month or less. The boy and girl meet. Ideally, the boy's parents also come along in order to approve of the bride. Moreover, many future mother-in-laws ask for the traditional cup of water from their potential daughters-in-law so that, while quenching their thirst, they can use the opportunity to look over the bride from head to foot.

If the young couple appeal to each other (although the “brothers” always have contingency candidates lined up, just in case), they get engaged in a few days, go to the marriage registry and the new husband goes to America (Russia, Argentina…) and waits till the girl gets a visa allowing her to join him.

The girl's visa is approved, she flies to her husband and a grand wedding is arranged, which is recorded on camera in great detail, especially the mountains of bananas and pineapples adorning the tables. The recording is then sent to the girl's relatives and her parents are overjoyed that their daughter “got lucky.”

Getting back to Arman, his family returned to their native town and his parents got to work immediately. Arman visited his “brothers.” There was nothing for him to do at that point. First, his parents had to approve of a few girls and, by the process of elimination, come up with a brief list of candidates for Arman to consider.

Within one week, the parents visited 35 unmarried girls. None of them was perfect for their son – one's facial features were not right, the other did not have a good body. Some candidates were excluded immediately, because it was obvious at first glance that they would be disastrous. In some cases, the would-be mother-in-law discovered during conversations that the girl an exact replica of her, which would make living together very difficult. One girl fitted the bill nearly perfectly – she was beautiful, modest and from a “respected family.” But there was a problem. The girl had just graduated from tenth grade. As Arman's father reasonably pointed out, she still needed to get an education, which would require paying tuition fees. This would go on for at least two years. And after all, one very important criterion is that the candidate must have a college diploma, attesting to the fact that she was an “educated girl.” So that candidate was dropped as well.

Arman's parents searched for another couple of days and succeeded. Pretty and educated. They asked around about her and did not hear any gossip. The family was good too – respected – her parents were teachers. They found a mutual acquaintance who set up a “bride watch” visit.

The girl's mother could not say no. Firstly, her daughter had been referred by her colleague at work; it would have been awkward to refuse. Secondly, Anna was already twenty-three years old and she had started growing concerned about her daughter's future. The girl did not show any intention of getting married, had finished school with flying colors, followed by the Department for International Relations at Yerevan State University, spoke four languages and dreamed of moving to England and working in her field. Whenever her mother would plead with her to find a husband and start a family, she would smile indifferently. So the mother was overjoyed at the opportunity that had come up.

Arman and his parents came to Anna's house. A plentiful table had been set for them. Everyone sat down, complained for about five minutes about the unusual rain that had occurred at the end of April, chatted a bit about unimportant matters and then got down to it. They talked about themselves and what they do. Anna's parents did the same. The guests were growing to like Anna and her parents more with each passing minute. Finally, Arman's mother signaled to her son. Arman nodded, and his parents asked their future in-laws to allow the youngsters to spend a little time alone, so that they could “get to know each other better, up close.”

Anna's parents assented. The young couple moved to the other room and talked about their interests and hobbies. Arman's father came fifteen minutes later and said that they had to go. The gleam in his son's eyes told him that there was no need to search any further.

“What do you think of our son?” he asked Anna caringly.

The girl modestly lowered her eyes and her nod was barely perceptible.

The young peoples were engaged in a week. They were married a week after that. And the girl who dreamed about England flew to Chuvashia.

While saying goodbye, her mother said to her, “See, I was right to keep telling you to study hard. They chose you because you were ‘educated.'”

Anna's mother told us this story a few days after her daughter left, as we sat around a table. I was shocked. All my ideas of romance had been demolished. What happened to love? All right, it is possible to live with someone you do not love, if you do not hate them. You can eat together, talk during dinner, watch television… but how can you share a bed with someone you barely know?

Anna's mother avoided this question – it did not fit in the idea of tradition; as for love, her approach was philosophical – they'll live and learn to love. “If our ancestors had lived like that for centuries (and they'd lived well too – we have very strong families, not like in the West where the divorce rate is climbing on virtually a daily basis) why should we break with tradition?” asked Anna's mother.

Besides that, twenty-three is a very young age. But parents always see farther and better than their children – their advice is valuable.

I objected – our “strong” families were based on deception and only seemed to be strong for someone from the outside. It's true, nobody would divorce here because of “personal incompatibility,” as they would “there.” The Armenian wife would never complain that she was dissatisfied with her family life – not because she was too proud, but because she would feel awkward. Then the children appear and the Armenian woman forgets about her own life and starts to live only for her children. And we should not say that times have changed and that Armenian women are emancipated now. Only a few are, mostly in the capital.

I objected and said that knowledge was based only on first-hand experience, and the experience of parents could not establish a happy future for their children.

Anna's mother retorted that marrying on one's own, without one's parents' choice, did not guarantee a “successful marriage” either.

I understand that life is difficult as such, but marrying with virtually closed eyes? However, it was as if we were speaking in different languages. A woman who had grown up in a traditional family could not understand why I had reacted this way. Most of the girls in her city end up married in the same way, and there is nothing bad about that.

I do not insist that I am right and she is wrong. After all, the conviction with which she spoke almost caused me to doubt my own arguments. I was even amazed at the daring of this young girl, who had left her own dreams behind and flown off to Chuvashia with a boy whom she had known for only a week. It's like a lottery ticket – you either win or end up throwing your money in the wind. You either live the family dream, or you end up wasting your life trying.

P.S. Readers' comments on marriage, Armenian-style, would be of great interest. Please send your thoughts to [email protected] and [email protected].