ArmeniaStart of the trip
It all started when I decided it was time to go where the mountains are taller than the houses and the legends are longer than the roads. That's how I found myself in Armenia. The plane landed in Yerevan, and the first thing I saw from the window were pink stone houses and Mount Ararat, which looked as if it was posing for tourists. I immediately knew I wouldn't be bored here.
Yerevan and its surprises
Yerevan is a city that never sleeps. I stepped out into Republic Square and was immediately surrounded by the sounds of fountains, the smell of coffee, and the feeling that everyone around me was in a hurry, yet eager to stop and talk.
I walked into a café, ordered a cup of Armenian coffee, and thought, "Well, here we go." But the waiter brought me not only coffee but also a plate of baklava. "It's a gift," he said. So I realized that in Armenia, tourists are fed even when they don't plan on it.
Stories and Legends
In Armenia, it's impossible to separate reality from legend. Every stone here remembers something.
"At Khor Virap Monastery, they told me that this is where you can best see Mount Ararat. I looked, and indeed, the mountain was so close, it seemed I could reach out and touch it."
"In Garni, I met an old man who insisted that his great-grandfather had personally helped build the Temple of the Sun. I didn't argue, because the old man looked as if he himself could have been an ancient priest."
"In Geghard, I heard a choir singing, and the sound was so loud that the stone walls shook. I even thought that if stones could cry, they would weep to this music."
Lake Sevan and fishing adventures
Sevan isn't just a lake; it's a sea in the mountains. I decided to try the local fish, Sevan whitefish. The fisherman assured me it was so fresh it had been swimming near Sevanavank Monastery just the day before. I believed him and ordered two servings.
But the most interesting thing happened later. I got on the boat, and suddenly the engine died. The fisherman said, "Don't worry, it's a sign." I asked, "What sign?" He replied, "A sign that it's time to sing." And we sailed across the lake, singing Armenian songs, until the wind carried us back to shore.
Mountains and roads
Armenian roads are an adventure in themselves. I was driving to Dilijan, and every turn was like a scene from a movie: cows crossing the road, a bus driver trying to overtake a truck on a serpentine road. I held onto the handrail and thought, "If I survive, I'll tell my grandchildren about this."
In Dilijan, I found myself in a forest where the air smelled of pine and fresh bread. There I met a musician playing the duduk. He said, "This instrument can speak to the mountains." I listened—and indeed, it seemed as if the mountains were echoing back.
Industries and museums
In Yerevan, I visited the Ararat distillery, where the famous brandy is made. The guide talked about the barrels, but all I could think about was the tasting. When they finally poured a glass, I understood why this drink was so beloved by great people.
I also stopped by the Parajanov Museum. There were such strange and beautiful things there that I decided: if I had such a talent, I would also make collages from everything – from buttons to old letters.
Random encounters
It's impossible to be alone in Armenia. Every day I met people who became part of my journey.
– On the bus, a woman treated me to homemade pies and said: “You’re too thin for our mountains.”
"In the village of Lagich, I met a master craftsman who made copper jugs. He said, 'This jug will outlive you.' I took it as a compliment."
– In Gyumri, I went to a street musicians concert. They played so joyfully that even the dogs danced.
Conclusion
My trip to Armenia turned out to be more than just a trip, but a true adventure. Every day was like a new chapter in a book: full of humor, unexpected twists, and unforgettable characters.
Armenia is a country where mountains hold legends, people share bread and songs, and tourists become storytellers. I left feeling like a part of this history now lives within me. And if I ever crave adventure again, I know where to return – to a place where even the fish in the lake sing along with you.
ArmeniaStart of the trip
It all started when I decided it was time to go where the mountains are taller than the houses and the legends are longer than the roads. That's how I found myself in Armenia. The plane landed in Yerevan, and the first thing I saw from the window were pink stone houses and Mount Ararat, which looked as if it was posing for tourists. I immediately knew I wouldn't be bored here.
Yerevan and its surprises
Yerevan is a city that never sleeps. I stepped out into Republic Square and was immediately surrounded by the sounds of fountains, the smell of coffee, and the feeling that everyone around me was in a hurry, yet eager to stop and talk.
I walked into a café, ordered a cup of Armenian coffee, and thought, "Well, here we go." But the waiter brought me not only coffee but also a plate of baklava. "It's a gift," he said. So I realized that in Armenia, tourists are fed even when they don't plan on it.
Stories and Legends
In Armenia, it's impossible to separate reality from legend. Every stone here remembers something.
"At Khor Virap Monastery, they told me that this is where you can best see Mount Ararat. I looked, and indeed, the mountain was so close, it seemed I could reach out and touch it."
"In Garni, I met an old man who insisted that his great-grandfather had personally helped build the Temple of the Sun. I didn't argue, because the old man looked as if he himself could have been an ancient priest."
"In Geghard, I heard a choir singing, and the sound was so loud that the stone walls shook. I even thought that if stones could cry, they would weep to this music."
Lake Sevan and fishing adventures
Sevan isn't just a lake; it's a sea in the mountains. I decided to try the local fish, Sevan whitefish. The fisherman assured me it was so fresh it had been swimming near Sevanavank Monastery just the day before. I believed him and ordered two servings.
But the most interesting thing happened later. I got on the boat, and suddenly the engine died. The fisherman said, "Don't worry, it's a sign." I asked, "What sign?" He replied, "A sign that it's time to sing." And we sailed across the lake, singing Armenian songs, until the wind carried us back to shore.
Mountains and roads
Armenian roads are an adventure in themselves. I was driving to Dilijan, and every turn was like a scene from a movie: cows crossing the road, a bus driver trying to overtake a truck on a serpentine road. I held onto the handrail and thought, "If I survive, I'll tell my grandchildren about this."
In Dilijan, I found myself in a forest where the air smelled of pine and fresh bread. There I met a musician playing the duduk. He said, "This instrument can speak to the mountains." I listened—and indeed, it seemed as if the mountains were echoing back.
Industries and museums
In Yerevan, I visited the Ararat distillery, where the famous brandy is made. The guide talked about the barrels, but all I could think about was the tasting. When they finally poured a glass, I understood why this drink was so beloved by great people.
I also stopped by the Parajanov Museum. There were such strange and beautiful things there that I decided: if I had such a talent, I would also make collages from everything – from buttons to old letters.
Random encounters
It's impossible to be alone in Armenia. Every day I met people who became part of my journey.
– On the bus, a woman treated me to homemade pies and said: “You’re too thin for our mountains.”
"In the village of Lagich, I met a master craftsman who made copper jugs. He said, 'This jug will outlive you.' I took it as a compliment."
– In Gyumri, I went to a street musicians concert. They played so joyfully that even the dogs danced.
Conclusion
My trip to Armenia turned out to be more than just a trip, but a true adventure. Every day was like a new chapter in a book: full of humor, unexpected twists, and unforgettable characters.
Armenia is a country where mountains hold legends, people share bread and songs, and tourists become storytellers. I left feeling like a part of this history now lives within me. And if I ever crave adventure again, I know where to return – to a place where even the fish in the lake sing along with you.