The genocide descendant

Armenia063I was sitting in the front seat of the minibus next to the driver. At another stop a man came in and filled the last space in the row. I needed to be told where exactly I should get off for the Memorial of the Armenian genocide, and I asked my neighbour. He made sure with the driver, then replied to me in English. Just to keep the conversation going, I asked him where he was from. I didn't expect any revealing answer to a routinely enquiry I had made just to pass the time of day, but I was wrong. The man said he was from Syria.

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Tatev monastery with the Polish tourist

Armenia077I left Yerevan heading for the southern province, and was dropped at the crossroads to Tatev. By that time, I had realised by talking to other people that I'd been grossly overcharged by the ticket tout before departure. The other passengers looked as much amused as I was, as I tried to obtain justice with the driver. But he was adamant, he had nothing to do with the matter, and I should rather turn to the man who had pocketed the money, a given Johanis, whose phone number I carefully wrote down in preparation for the settling of accounts.

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The Soviet hotel

Armenia118Yeghegnadzor, elevation 1,200 m, half past nine in the evening. The city is still under a blanket of heat as testified by different thermometers in the street displaying 34° or 35° C. My room is by no way any cooler. I'm lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling of a wallpapered room of this Soviet-era hotel that is something really extraordinary. Because, among other things, I'm the only guest of the establishment...

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Many places, flexible planning

Armenia106Sisian is a town set in the midst of yellow fields with a distant crown of mountains all around. Coming from Goris, 400 m higher, I spent one night here in order to see the prehistoric standing stones. You can walk to the site, it's about 6 km and therefore only about one hour's walk away, although the sun and the hot wind added some difficulty because of the dehydration effect. I had to keep drinking to make up for the imperceptible incessant sweating. Very few cars ply the dirt track, but even if I was not hitchhiking, someone took pity on me upon catching sight of someone walking on this desolate heath. A soldier gave me a lift to cover the last stretch.

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Up to Lake Sevan

Armenia225All the walking yesterday exhausted me. I woke up during the night with a dry throat and my body was as heavy as lead. During the night I stayed awake for an hour before I was able to receive more of the sleep I so badly needed. At wake up I slowly ground into gear and soon faced the fact it was a new day and I had to carry on. My goal was Lake Sevan, again not the easiest destination to reach by public transport from Yeghednadzor as there are no route services between the two places. I plodded three kilometres along the road to the junction and there, with all the traffic going the right way, I placed myself at the best spot to hitchhike for a ride.

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