We got up early, and tentatively made our way to a metro station where we’d been told that marshrutkas departed to Yerevan. With uncharacteristic ease, we found a guy who quoted the price we were expecting, and said he’d be leaving in a few minutes – just enough time to dump our bags and get some food for the journey. When we returned our bags were no longer in the van. After a split-second of mild consternation, the driver came over and said, “You go in this van, with your friends.” We found ourselves in a huge Mercedes minivan with squishy leather seats and ample legroom. The other seats were taken by a group of young Polish people, ardently scanning their travel guides. Unable to believe our luck, we settled in for the comparatively short six hour journey. After about an hour we reached border control, and sailed through (banking another stamp for our worn passports). The landscape turned biblical; scrubby plains and desolate mountains stretched out on either side, occasionally dotted with houses made of thick-set stone and corrugated iron. We passed through the lush forests of Dilijan, and the inviting blue expanse of Lake Sevan, before the traffic started to increase and we crawled into Yerevan. We caught an overpriced taxi to our hostel, and were settled in by 15:30.
Allowing ourselves a ten minute break, we then threw ourselves into this unknown place. The gently curved characters of the Georgian alphabet were replaced by a new set of alien hieroglyphics, and the wide roads teemed with shining new cars.
We made our way to Republic Square for a free walking tour. Our guide was a sinewy artist in his fifties, with salt and pepper curls escaping from his grey cap. We offered us an extraordinary insight into the history, architecture, culture and politics of Yerevan, taking us through tree-lined boulevards and brutalist metro stations, neo-classical squares and secret courtyards. Three hours later, utterly famished, we found a courtyard underneath a vine canopy, burgeoning with bunchs of jeweled grapes, and had our first taste of Armenian cuisine.
Danny woke up with a sniffly nose and a sore throat – a victim of the air conditioning and the 35 degree heat outside. He drugged himself up with cold and flu tablets, then we went for breakfast at a hipster cafe, grateful to find that eggs were available. We then walked up to the Cascade, which houses the Cafesjian Centre for the Arts. We ascended a number of escalators, lined with (at times perplexing) sculptures from artists around the world. At the top we took in the dizzying view of the city coming to life.
We then strolled down a wide leafy street to the museum of Hovhannes Toumanian, one of Armenia’s most treasured poets. We surveyed a number of photos of the intelligentsia of the day (with very little additional description), then nosed around the rooms reconstructed to show how Toumanian lived, with his wife and ten children. We left the museum with more answers than questions, so bought an English translation of Toumanian’s works to give us an idea of what it was all about.
We spent the afternoon lounging in a cafe, and watching a young Armenian couple’s wedding. The rumble of drums echoed around the concrete blocks, and sprightly dancers leapt in a circle around the newly-weds. We then visited the National Gallery, marvelling at the turbulent sea-scapes of Aivazovsky and the tragic scenes of Surenyants. We whiled away a few more hours in another cafe (there are lots of them here!) before heading to the Old Town for dinner.
On our final day in Yerevan we decided to visit the Genocide Museum, a space commemorating the deaths and displacement of hundreds of thousands of Armenian people during WWI. Danny and I were shocked at the scale of the travesty, and at the fact that we had never been taught about it during our history lessons. The museum was hugely informative, and inspired us to find out more about the plight of the Armenian people.
We then made our way to the Museum of Folk Arts, to admire intricate carpets, delicate lace and wooden artefacts, carved with a geometry that sang of the divine. As with many of the museums we have visited during our stay, we had the place to ourselves, which made the experience even more enjoyable. We had a quick ride on the rumbling metro, before perusing the Art market for souvenirs and lingering over a cold drink in a park. We had another stab at Armenian food, but found it rather meat-heavy. The salads and breads that we could eat were delicious, but after nearly two weeks of similar fare we were looking forward to homely foodie comforts.
Yerevan was a city that we knew nothing about, before we arrived. I’ve been impressed by the strength and diversity of the arts scene here – creativity is both a traditional part of the national identity and a thriving expression of modernity and transformation. Sultry evenings in cafes are where life happens, although due to our daily cultural excursions we didn’t linger long enough to get a true glimpse of an Armenian night. Yerevan isn’t the most tourist or pedestrian-friendly city I’ve been to, but what it lacks in practicality, it makes up for in depth, complexity and intruige. The city has its own perspective, rooted in its past, but with a gaze facing outwards to its promising future.
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