By Christian Garbis

A few weeks ago I received a parking ticket in the mail (I’ve waited that long to report it so I could properly cool down and not sound vexed). On the ticket was a photograph of my Niva, license plate concealed, parallel-parked a good distance, I would say 50 feet, away from the Tumanyan/Nalbandyan intersection, but parked on the south side on Tumanyan Street.

It was late one Saturday morning in June when I needed to pop into the Star supermarket on the corner to use the ATM. My stay there lasted two minutes at the most before I was off to pick up my father-in-law and the marinated meat, then the rest of the clan.

We were on our way to his dacha in Dzorakhpur for barbecue on the occasion of his birthday. I had parked in that very spot before and was never notified after the fact that I had committed a “violation.” That was before all these peeping Tom cameras were installed throughout central Yerevan.

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