Travel, 50+, Armenia

Do they know the Kardashians? But do they know the Kardashians, though? ... is what people kept asking me as I returned from my Armenian trip. The answer to which is: yes. Yes, they know the Kardashians and they know Cheryl Sarkisian and they know SOAD and pretty much every notable name of the diaspora. Interestingly enough, no one wanted to know "How was Armenia?" No one, except for the ... Armenians!

So, there I was exiting Armenia via land and the border guard took my passport, checked it, opened the page, wet the stamp with fresh orange ink and then stared at me. Straight in the eye, with a dead serious face. Hovering the stamp in the air, not too far from my passport. Holding. Holding. Ho-o-o-olding-g-g. He was performing a dramatic pause. Or, really, as I soon found out, he did not speak my language, so he was actually waiting for the young guy to come and translate. The young border guard asked me: "How was Armenia?" I replied with an honest compliment. The young guy translated. The stamp guy stared at me and moved like a statue. I continued to explain with a friendly smile how I had liked this and that. The young guy translated. The stamp guy kept staring at me and, I swear, he did not blink once. I would have begun to sweat bullets, but they would have thought I was Azeri so, instead, I blurted out a lot of positive words and the young guy began to translate some of it and: SLAM! The stamp guy processed my passport, probably just to get rid of me. Freedom! Or, to some people, Georgia.

I returned to the geezer driving myself and my travel buddy from Yerevan to Tbilisi. He was smoking like there was no tomorrow, looking bored. We did not share the habit. We did not share a language. He spoke Armenian and Russian, I spoke a good half a dozen languages but neither of these two. Not beyond an ape to a three-year-old vocabulary of Russian I had crammed quickly before going. How did we get here? Well... I bought the tickets for a flight between these two places. The ticket said the plane leaves 11:something and we went to the airport at 09:something only to see our flight lift off and it was the only flight that day. We called the airline and a boss arrived to sort the issue out. He went, after checking the ticket and shaking his head: "So, what do you want?" We said we have to get to Tbilisi that very day. The guy called a geezer, exchanged a few words and shoved the old man's hands full of bills, like a million or something. He said: "He will take you." and left. The old guy said something in Russian. I replied, like a 'special' child "нет понимаю".

The guy drove us through his, as it seemed, usual route. He tried to introduce some places to which we replied with nods and smiles. He stopped at his favorite place for a coffee. A very small station with hand pumped gasoline and a toilet to die for. Almost quite factually so. The toilet was just a wooden box with a large hole in the floor, hovering over a violently forwards-gushing river, only supported by two dried sticks. You drop something in there, it's gone forever. Including yourself. We opted for just a break to straighten our legs. Then it happened. Every living young man of the town drove like maniacs, veered on the yard and jumped out of their pimped Lada, while it was still moving. They smiled at us tourists from the distance, waving, the lot of them. One of them yelled "We love America!" ...and off they went. Neither of us is an American.

Yerevan is one of those places where I had absolutely no idea what to expect. Same goes for Armenia, really. And yes, I did some research, but the material is not abundant (at the time, anyway). The people were friendly, the women were beautiful (they obviously really put an effort into themselves, good on you ladies), the city was calm and accepting at the time. No protests or nothing. Everyone just lived their lives. There was a young guy who had rather evidently only just bought a guitar. He had also thought it's a great idea to practice on one of the main streets, with the amp cranked up to 11. The passing audience laughed at his feeble attempts, but the guy just went on. Maybe he's the local Santanasyan at this point, who knows.

As capitals go, Yerevan has little enough to see for you to tackle it in a day or two. There are a couple of central squares, a couple of parks, the long walk up on a semi-pyramid-like quarter-wall (if that makes any sense). Food is not for the wea-- I mean vegans. It was meat like this, meat like that and even their porridge (harissa?) seemed to have meat in it. It is often topped with some form of booze. Or then the locals just tried to get us drunk and jolly like the Santa who looks somewhat like one of your relatives.

The judgment:
Armenia is, as you might guess, a mountainous country. It's quite magnificent, really, and the nature is more ample and versatile than you would guess. It is one of the prime targets for a solid butterfly enthusiast. There are many options for a history enthusiast to see. It is still giving you the feeling of an explorer and a "real" traveler, while being practically in Europe. For me, the people are what made it. Open, happy, kind... Unfortunate victims of political games and neighborly rabble-rousing. Proud of who they are and what they represent without shoving it down your throat. I don't know, I just liked the place. Armenia is on my top3 biggest positive surprises of any country. Not recommended for small children or people with physical challenges.

Would I go again? Yes.