Let us go back some years to when I was recovering from a long illness and started noticing the world around me again. I rediscovered my passion for reading and among many books my friends brought me was one which looked particularly intriguing - Philip Marsden’s story “The Crossing Place” (Journey among the Armenians).
Having read the book twice I decided that when I was well again this was a place I would visit. It was like a vow of a pilgrim to visit a holy site once in their life.
Upon my discharge I asked the Professor if I could travel again and his answer was, with a side glance at the book, of course why not, as long as you do not choose Outer Mongolia as yet.
Finally last September I boarded a plane to Yerevan in Armenia. Some said I was bold and some that I must be insane. For me it was an adventure; a journey into the unknown to a time and place far from the madding crowd. This was an experience to treasure forever.
From the time of arrival to the time of departure my guide Armine, and her driver husband Tritram, looked after me and all of a sudden I was journeying among the Armenians.
Each church, monastery and the dramatic landscape came alive with their ruggedness and beauty and I did find the Armenians at times a bit shy but always very charming and polite.
To my delight the visit also included a winery which started prospering with Gorbachov’s clampdown on alcohol. White and red wines are plentiful in this region and of a very good quality. We managed to sample a few.
This region also produces a brandy which was highly praised by Winston Churchill at the meeting of the four powers in Yalta after the Second World War. This should also be tasted but large quantities are not advisable.
Armenian food is excellent and varied having borrowed a lot from Turkey, Syria and the Levant. Plenty of small dishes with barbecued meats, dips and plenty of sour cream. On top of that there are always large plates of salads and herbs. The bread is pancake like lending itself to be filled with all the delicacies on the table and mostly enjoyed in local restaurants or outside gardens.
Some nights were spent in old fashioned hotels of communist proportions with vast open spaces where if you were lucky you might find some armchairs aimlessly spread around. At the Lake Sevan Hotel there stood a grand piano in the vast foyer and billowing net curtains blowing in the breeze as somebody had forgotten to close one of the doors or windows. Here the night receptionist had to be disturbed from sleep to hand us our keys since he decided to have an early night and had forgotten about our arrival at about 9pm.
Some nights were spent in private houses where you were given instruction on how to work the ancient plumbing so you could have a hot shower. Only howls of protest alerted the owners when the water went icy cold and the situation needed to be rectified. This gave an insight into how the people live from day to day and made it so different from a tourist view of things.
In 1931 a devastating earthquake destroyed most landmarks, churches and monasteries. But the iron will of the Armenian people meant they have now been restored. The most beautiful sites have been resurrected stone by stone in decades of hard work. Today they all tell their own story, the history of places of worship and learning with assembly halls now used by the villagers. After all they were erected as look out points against marauding predators and foreign armies. Wisely there are usually three escape tunnels from these points, two leading nowhere and the third one as escape route for the local community.
On my last day I went for a trip to Echmiadzin - the religious centre of Armenian Christianity and then on to Zvarnots in the shadow of Ararat and finally Garni with its Hellenic Temple built by King Trat in the first century and dedicated to Helios the Roman God of the sun. Later after the Christian conversion, it became a summer retreat for Armenian Royalty.
After admiring the temple and the majestic mountains, lunch was taken in a restaurant spread out under the trees in an orchard pervaded by the scents of the ripening fruits. The area was so vast that one only heard people enjoying themselves muffled in the background. However, we had our own entertainment laid on by Vov the son of Armine and Tritram - having climbed an apple tree and obviously unable to come down – he squealed with laughter and had to be rescued.
Then it was time to get back to Yerevan and have a last drink on the beautiful Opera Square and feeling sad having to say “Good bye Armenia”.
Christian Bartok
The images on this page are used with the kind permission of
Christian Bartok, who retains copyright.
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