Our Armenian adventure started in Yerevan, traced a circle around the northern cities of Gyumri, Vanadzor (with a day trip to the Debed Canyon) and Dilijan, before returning to Yerevan. We were struck by quite how different the capital was compared with the rest of the country – Yerevan felt developed and had no shortage of fashionable restaurants and cafes, while the rest of Armenia felt much quieter in comparison. Still, I’m really glad we travelled beyond Yerevan to get a more balanced view of the country.
We travelled exclusively by local buses and long distance marshrutky in Armenia, with the exceptions of our train ride between Yerevan and Gyumri and a late night taxi to Yerevan airport.
Carbon
Our travel in Armenia emitted a little more than half of the carbon resulting from our travel in Georgia. This was due to both travelling more distance by train in Armenia, while also travelling less distance overall. Still, this didn’t seem to save us any time, as we spent just over 23 hours in transit in both countries.
This brings our total carbon emissions since leaving London up to 786 kgCO2e, and increasingly close to the 1,000 kgCO2e minimum offset size.
Cost
Although we spent less money in Armenia than any other country so far, I was surprised that our spend per day in Armenia was slightly higher than it was in Georgia. This seems to be due to a slightly higher proportion of our spend on transport and accommodation, since we travelled more distance per day in Armenia, while also making the most of Yerevan, a real foodie city.
Cats
Armenia just managed to beat Georgia, coming in with 6.2 cats per day. At this point I’m wondering if anywhere will come close to Greece or Turkey.
And now it’s time to call out our animal highlights…
🏅Cutest used car salesperson
This salescat was playing hard-to-get when we enquired about prices
🏅Furriest water fountain Visitor
Water fountains, also known as Pulpulaks, are pervasive across the country, and seem to be an important part of Armenian street culture (and pet hydration)
🏅flirtiest bus station attendant
We were trying to buy a bus ticket when this friendly little attention seeker rolled onto Sara’s feet
Food
Our friends from the Tbilisi-Yerevan sleeper train gave us a whole list of food, drink and restaurants to try while we were in Armenia, and we were nothing if not obedient. The most impressive of these was probably Ghapama, which consists of a pumpkin filled with rice, dried fruit and buttery fried flat bread. This was beautifully presented at the Lavash Restaurant, where the top of the pumpkin was removed, the sides sliced and the whole thing opened up like a flower.
This concluded our brief 10 day tour of Armenia, and also our time in the Caucasus. Now only 200 km of Caspian Sea and 400 km of semi-arid steppe separated us from the Silk Road city of Khiva, Uzbekistan.
Dilijan is a town in Armenia’s Lesser Caucasus mountains, most famous for its position within the eponymous 240 km2 national park. The region’s alpine landscape and quaint towns have earned it the (slightly questionable) nickname of the Switzerland of Armenia. We were staying in Dilijan’s old town; a small collection of wood and stone buildings, separated by cobbled streets already draped in autumn colours.
Surrounding the old town were a real mix of modern residential and commercial buildings, alongside the crumbling Soviet concrete to which we were starting to grow accustomed. Within a stone’s throw from our hotel was a columned amphitheatre, an ornate stone staircase flanked by lions and a long abandoned building (all pictured below).
Dilijan also had its fair share of monuments. These included three chaps from the 1977 Soviet movie Mimino standing around a water fountain (left), and the colossal monument to the 50th anniversary of Soviet Armenia (right).
But the main reason we were here was to explore the Dilijan National Park on foot. With few circular trails available, we opted to take a taxi to Parz Lake; an understandably popular lake situated in the mountains, before walking a mountain trail back to Dilijan. This taxi ride was almost noteworthy for how straightforward it was. The driver opened fare negotiations with a price I’d read was typical online, which almost never happens. In fact, I rarely achieve the price I’ve read about online even after a stressful negotiation. On top of that, the vehicle was modern and largely undamaged, the driver was careful, and knew exactly where we wanted to go. It was all too easy.
Parz Lake
While I’d hoped the taxi ride would allow us to skip some of the elevation gain of the 12.5 km hike, a closer inspection of the elevation graph below shows that we only started 78 m above our end point, and we still had nearly half a kilometre of vertical gain before we reached the walk’s highest point. This all felt vaguely familiar – I’m sure one day we’ll find an easy downhill stroll!
Elevation graph: km walked shown horizontally, height gained/lost shown vertically
While the lake was fairly busy, we met very few other hikers on the trail. The path itself was relatively easy to follow despite the carpet of leaves which covered most of the mountainside. We popped in and out of cloud as we went, and the damp landscape was full of vegetation, including some shiny black fungi which caught our eye.
At the highest point of the hike, the forest ended abruptly at an alpine meadow, which I’m sure would have had spectacular views if we weren’t in dense cloud. To make matters worse, the GPS on my phone stopped updating, so you can imagine our relief when we managed to pick out one of the few-and-far between way-markers through the thick fog. Re-entering the forest on the opposite side of the meadow, we came across a sign warning us of wild bears, which gave us a new danger to look out for as the visibility had improved.
The route down to Dilijan was similarly autumnal, with both the trees and cloud ensuring that the town didn’t emerge until the final moment.
Just as we reached Dilijan we came across a crumbling concrete “rotonda”, which I believe was the predecessor to the columned amphitheatre pictured at the top of this post.
With our loop of northern Armenia nearly complete, we were ready to return to Yerevan, this time for three nights instead of our previous 60 minutes. Although it was our last stop in the Caucasus, Yerevan stole our hearts immediately, and was the unexpected highlight of our time in Georgia and Armenia.
To cross into Armenia, we took the brand new sleeper train from Tbilisi to Yerevan. Booking our tickets all the way to Yerevan was another in a series of slight miscalculations – we’d so easily booked last minute accommodation in Georgia that it came as a bit of a shock to find that there was barely anything available in Yerevan, and anything that was available was very expensive. We made some friends on the train (who had moved to Armenia from Moscow, but some months ago) who explained to us that Armenia had seen an influx of Russian citizens in recent weeks because it was one of the few countries where it was possible to travel on a national ID (since apparently many Russians don’t have full passports), and this might explain the shortage of accommodation.
We decided to switch our itinerary to visit Gyumri first. This left us with two options:
Get off the train in the middle of the night when it stopped at Gyumri, knowing that Armenian cafes don’t open for breakfast until around 9.30am
Enjoy a full night’s sleep on the train, before turning around and travelling the three hours straight back to Gyumri
We opted for option #2, since arriving at 4am didn’t sound like much fun. It was also an excuse to take another train, only this time we’d be able to take in some of the scenery as we trundled along after leaving Yerevan’s beautiful station.
Gyumri is Georgia’s second largest city, but its name is still synonymous with the earthquake which practically levelled the town in 1988, killing 50,000 people and displacing even more. The reconstruction effort has been ongoing ever since, with ruined buildings and others undergoing repairs visible throughout the city, including the city’s old hospital (below right), which was rebuilt from scratch next door, leaving the ruins to be consumed by nature.
Still, those buildings that had been restored continued to use the distinctive black and orange tuff (volcanic rock), giving the city a unique architectural style.
The town is built out from Verdanants Square, a vast area flanked by the Cathedral of the Holy Mother of God at one end and the Holy Saviour’s Church at the other. The cathedral has been fully restored since the earthquake in black tuff, with two of its predecessor’s spires preserved in the cathedral’s gardens.
The exterior of the church at the other end of the square had also been restored, but inside work still continued. We were a bit surprised to be beckoned into the building site by the man who was working alone inside the church, but it was worthwhile to see just how much of a project it was to restore it to its former glory.
We also came across a picture of the church taken shortly after the earthquake, which was pretty staggering – there was very little left standing.
Our favourite meal in Gyumri was undoubtedly the lunch we ate at Gwoog Gastrohouse. The first dish to come out was heavily buttered scrambled egg with basturma, a type of salty cured beef (not pictured as we ate it way too quickly). Next up was chrov pilaf, a rice side with apricots, dates and raisins (we realise this was a slightly strange accompaniment to eggs, but that was on us!) Finally, a whole plate of lamb dolma arrived, complete with fresh lemon and sour cream. All of this was washed down with a sweet apricot and raisin Kompot, a drink we’d never heard of, but that went down a treat!
We also treated ourselves to a donut each from Ponchik Monchik. These are hollow deep fried dough balls, filled with either vanilla custard, chocolate spread, or jam, and dusted with icing sugar. After demonstrating how much the filling hole looked like a mouth, Sara then painted her nose white with icing sugar with her first bite. Absolutely delicious, and we could probably have eaten two each!
To burn off some calories, we took a walk out to Gyumri’s Mother Armenia – a colossal statue on the edge of town which somehow survived the devastating earthquake. She watches over Gyumri, with one arm raised to the sky and her back clearly turned to the Turkish border less than 10km behind her. Still, her view across Armenia was spectacular.
Just next door to the statue lies the Black Fortress, a military installation built with typical Gyumri black tuff, which has more recently been converted into a live performance venue. Both attractions were eerily quiet, with just the odd wandering tourist and a few local kids out exercising.
We took a short diversion on our way back into town through Gyumri’s Central Park. From the outside, this appeared to be a wild and seldom used park, but once inside, we found that the park was dotted with beautiful architecture and Soviet statues.
As well as yet another amusement park…
After exploring Gyumri’s main attractions, it was time to pay some attention to the increasingly messy matt of hair on my head. We headed to Lux Barber Shop, a traditional barbers filled with wood panelling, mirrors and metal and leather chairs. With my Armenian language skills stretching to “hello”, “goodbye” and “thank you”, I resorted to showing the barber a few photos taken shortly after my last hair cut. He gave the photos a passing glance before leading me towards a chair and picking up the clippers. Sara watched on from the entrance as I had one of the most tense hair cuts of my life, but at least I didn’t have to engage in the normal barber small talk. In the end, the barber did a great a job despite my lack of communication skills, and I left Gyumri looking much smarter than the state in which I arrived.
Our next destination would be Vanadzor, a typical Soviet town and the gateway to the Debed Canyon, with Yerevan now demoted to the end of our Armenian itinerary.
