Republic of Montainous Armenia

South Armenia was a proud independent republic for 20 years - until the Soviet Union took it over. The Republic of Mountainous Armenia.

I spent the first three nights in Tatev in the republic. Together with the Swiss siblings Jessica and Matthias, we took a four-hour taxi ride to the mountain village. When the driver dropped us off, we could see from his dissatisfied expression that we had negotiated a good price of 18,000 AMD. Sorry...

Tatev is mainly known for its important monastery. Tourists only come to the village because of this monastery complex. The next morning, after a night under cozy blankets, we visited the complex... well... it's just a monastery. I have no idea... but I think if I had driven four hours just for this monastery, I would have been annoyed. It was nice, but nothing more. But of course, I only evaluate monasteries based on their walls, the deep meaning/architecture/history, etc. justify why Tatev Monastery is so important.

At the bike camp, some diligent cyclists told me that they had built an Eco-Trail near Tatev. With a group of international volunteers, it was created just a few months ago. So, that was our plan for the afternoon. However, to reach the trail, we still had to go down the mountain. Roughly estimated, we thought it would take about half an hour to get to the start of the trail. Roughly underestimated. The path seemed endless, and at some point, Jessica, slightly annoyed, flagged down a car that took us down after an hour of zigzagging down the mountain. But the trail was really beautiful. It went four kilometers to the next village, which was called something like Tatärätä, Taramsasa, or Tralala. While the first two kilometers were pleasant hiking, the last two kilometers were a steep slope. Matthias rushed up, Jessica hiked happily, and lightly, while I experienced a cruel respiratory and circulatory collapse. "I'm just very athletic," Jessica chirped. Well, I'm not! After my successful entry into cycling, I briefly thought the opposite, but this mountain killed me. Well, we eventually arrived and the view was amazing. The first car also took us straight back to Tatev. At home, exhausted and happy, we all fell onto the couch. The mountain ascent was not without leaving its mark on the siblings either.

Next day, next hike. Matthias took it easy, and his sister and I set off again for the next few hours. Fewer mountains, even more beautiful views, and great conversations. That's all about that.

The next morning, the journey continued. The Swiss, in whose Winterthur dialect I listened to over the days, went back to Yerevan, and for me, it was further south. The town of Kapan was supposed to be only 50km away, easy! The journey began in an old Soviet bus. It can really be called a journey. The bus took three hours for the 50km. And while I found the first hour quite interesting and enjoyed the jostling and the view, I prayed for the remaining two hours to the arrival. I kept thinking of my mother complaining about the poor suspension in my father's BMW. What would she say here? Whiplash and whiplash trauma. But at least the 85-year-old bus driver didn't take us down the steep slopes. We arrived unharmed, except for the physiotherapeutically treatable tension from the ride.

I spent my next and last two nights in Armenia on a small organic farm. Anahit Dryfruits was recommended to me by an Eco-Camp that unfortunately couldn't host me. The name said it all. While the bed and room couldn't score in terms of comfort, everything else was more than enough. The 9-member family welcomed me as the 10th family member. Every half hour, I was brought new fruits from the garden and almost fed them to me. The round grandma explained the whole garden to me with the help of her granddaughter's vocabulary book. Everything fresh, everything organic, everything homemade. Even the cheese and rose soda were homemade. The women took care of the cooking, the men... also did something, but there was a clear division of roles here. I felt a little sorry for the women, especially the 24-year-old daughter-in-law who said she would like to live in Germany because you don't have to marry so early there. Hm... a downside of the stay.

When I mentioned that I wanted to hike to Vahanavank Monastery the next day, they made a phone call. With the priest of the venerable monastery. He is a friend of the head patriarch here and married him and his wife a few months ago. The family organized that I should have tea with him at the monastery. Phew... did I really want to do that? I didn't really have a choice. And so, the next morning, I found myself in a car with the priest on the way to his monastery.

It was really great! Contrary to all reservations, I had a great time with the priest, who told me the history of the monastery but also reported on his life, which he dedicated to the priesthood and for which he has traveled all the kilometers and hours away from his wife and three daughters. We sat together with bread, cheese (yuck, I really don't like Armenian cheese), and tahini. Suddenly he was in a hurry. He had to go to a funeral quickly and then, after 2 years in Kapan, he would go to Yerevan to see his children for the first time again. Together, we quickly completed the tasks of a priest in Vahanavank: censing the church with incense and refilling the light with new oil. I was practically an assistant to the whole thing. He's a good guy, so if anyone visits him, greetings from his Facebook friend Steffi.

After the monastery, I went hiking. 4 kilometers through the forest alone. I had a strange feeling. I wondered if there were bears or wolves here. After reading guides on how to deal with the animals, I turned up the music on my phone and sang as I stomped up the mountain. Music and singing would identify me as a human, thus keeping bears away. So, I sang in all pitches and volumes.

I didn't encounter a bear or a wolf, just a few bulls that I also found a bit spooky, but I didn't have to resort to the defense techniques I had learned from the World Wide Web. Thanks to GPS, I found my intended destination, Halidzor Fortress, after about 2 hours. Stones on the mountain, but really cool stones. Mega beautiful. Here, I had a picnic with the cake the priest gave me and read a book. I hadn't been in such a peaceful place for a long time. No people, a fantastic view, and a gentle wind at 27 degrees. I took my time.

Around 6 pm, I returned to my organic farm, where the round mama was already waiting and made it clear to me in Armenian that she had been worried about me being gone for so long. Full of joy at my return, I was once again fed various fruits. I actually wanted to pack for my next day and the border crossing into Iran, but I couldn't resist another shared dinner: figs, mulberries, hazelnuts, and even more mulberries. I was too busy chewing - I'll pack in the morning. Tupperware containers full of dried fruits are already in my backpack, waiting to be given to the hosts in Iran.

Caucasus Conclusion

Armenia treated me very well. A wonderful country! Especially in the last few days, I had a series of great experiences and things I experienced. The hospitality, the smiles, the warmth surpassed Georgia. The country is not as touristy as Georgia, which sometimes makes traveling a bit more difficult because you can't find information about when which bus goes where (usually it only goes once a day), but I always arrived despite that.

Georgia had a bit of a hard time with me. It's difficult to exactly say why. Maybe it was just because I wasn't relaxed enough yet and had to get used to some things, or maybe it was because I met the wrong people, although that is of course immensely unfair to the great Tina, the lovely Rosan, the Swiss, and all the other nice contacts. But maybe Armenia just suits me better. I need people to smile, that certain warmth that was missing for me in Georgia. Other travelers have experienced this warmth, so my experiences are not universal. But I'm not alone in this impression :)

One area where Georgia definitely wins is the food. Armenia really didn't impress me in that regard. There was shashlik, tomatoes, and cucumbers in Armenia, but in Georgia, there were also various cheese and eggplant dishes, plum sauce, and khinkali. Armenian cheese, Armenian yogurt, all the dairy products reminded me more of spoiled oversalted milk acid bacteria from failed cooking experiments.

Tomorrow, I'm crossing the border into Iran and I'm already very excited. I hope everything goes well and I don't blurt out at the border that I studied politics and that I'm staying with a Couchsurfer. Two no-gos.