We are in a small village called Manang at around 3600 meters. I can't actually believe I'm blogging. I got to keep it short because they're charging an arm an leg per minute. In sum its been a dream come true. And it feels like a dream because nothing seems real. There are moments of utter bewilderment and awe staring up at an 8000 meter peak. I have seen nothing in my life to prepare me for that.
Everything is going well. We both have a cold right now but we're fine. We stay in Manang for a couple more days and then we may do a side trip to Tilicho lake -- the highest lake in the world. Then we head over Thorung Pass.
Hope all is well.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
Back in Kathmandu but....
Our flight got postponed so we canceled it. (The later the flight the more unlikely it is that it will fly because the Lukla airport is in the mountains and the clouds build up in the late morning and the runway is short and landing is a dangerous proposition, even in good weather.) So we've rearranged our itinerary and our Sherpa guide is now making arrangements for us to go to the Annapurna region, to do the Annapurna Circuit. It's also a 15-17 day trek. We'll be in a small town called Besi Sur tonight and we start our trek tomorrow. There is one high pass (5400 meters). The trek begins in terraced rice fields and climbs into alpine. We're just ready to walk.
I heard today that I passed the CO Bar exam. Thank god. We'll raise a glass of Nepal Ice tonight to celebrate.
I heard today that I passed the CO Bar exam. Thank god. We'll raise a glass of Nepal Ice tonight to celebrate.
Stuck in Kathmandu
We made it to the airport today. And then waited for five hours among total chaos. Then we returned to our hotel. All late morning flights to Lukla canceled. We may or may not get out tomorrow. If the flight is canceled tomorrow we'll likely change plans -- we're talking about taking road transportation to Pohkara to do a trek in the Annapurna region or the Langtang region. We'll see.
We've been here five days now and the only view of the himalayas we've gotten was from the airplane as we approached Kathmandu.
We've been here five days now and the only view of the himalayas we've gotten was from the airplane as we approached Kathmandu.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Day 34
It rained again today but it appears the clouds have moved on -- at least for the evening. Our flight is still scheduled to leave tomorrow morning for Lukla. Today we spent half the day wandering the city streets (which I'm looking forward to doing more of when we come back to Kathmandu after the trek) and hiked up to the Monkey Temple -- a Buddhist/Hindu temple guarded by troops of monkeys. Apparently the Nepalis' religion is a mix of Hindu and Buddhism which I don't quite understand yet -- that is going to be the topic of study on our trek. The temple was brilliant. Mostly because I like monkeys. And because the temple sat on top of a small mountain and had great views of Kathmandu. And because the Nepali folks, wearing a rainbow of colored costumes and a splattering of red yogurt on their foreheads to cover up their "Third Eye," were there in hordes worshipping.
The other half of the day we spent chatting with an Irish dude who lives in Goa, India. Interesting chap. He had great info on SE Asia -- one bit of information he passed along is that Burma is apparently having an election in the next month, and as expected, it will be rigged and there could be some volatility. So we may not go there now. If anyone picks up on any info in the papers or on the internet about the situation there please shoot us a comment on the blog.
There may or may not be internet along the trek. (By the way, we're doing a teahouse trek so we will be staying in villages all along the way.) If there is no internet, there will likely be a 15-17 day period of silence. Hope everyone is well. Talk soon.
The other half of the day we spent chatting with an Irish dude who lives in Goa, India. Interesting chap. He had great info on SE Asia -- one bit of information he passed along is that Burma is apparently having an election in the next month, and as expected, it will be rigged and there could be some volatility. So we may not go there now. If anyone picks up on any info in the papers or on the internet about the situation there please shoot us a comment on the blog.
There may or may not be internet along the trek. (By the way, we're doing a teahouse trek so we will be staying in villages all along the way.) If there is no internet, there will likely be a 15-17 day period of silence. Hope everyone is well. Talk soon.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Day 33
So the entire Everest region is under a bank of rain clouds, as is Kathmandu -- apparently extraordinarily unusual for the dry season. All the flights to Lukla were canceled today so our flight has been pushed back until the 18th. Today we wandered the streets and alleys of Thamel buying items for our trip -- stuff we have at home but that we didn't bring because of weight concerns. We bought two pairs of trekking poles, two pairs of mittens, a pair of "Gortex" rain paints, two toques, a fleece shirt, and a pair of wool socks -- all for 30 bucks. All "name brands" made in Romania I think. The filling in my mittens are 80% "super goose down" and 20% "feather."
We still haven't gotten the chance to see more of Kathmandu -- hopefully tomorrow or perhaps when we come back from our trek. Of the little we've seen it's a fascinating place. Dirty and poor yes, but vibrant and abuzz. The streets and alleys are clogged with rickshaws and motorbikes and cars and hash pushers and folks getting ready for their treks, all squeezing through a 15-foot wide corridor. The Hindu holiday -- Daishan -- is coming to an end. The holiday is the time to drink a lot of alcohol and slaughter animals. It would have been nice to be more a part of the festivities -- the extent of our participation has been to raise a number of glasses of beer with our young hotel managers who couldn't make it home for the holidays and so are spending them here, on the rooftop terrace drinking large quantities of alcohol and barking at the moon.
We still haven't gotten the chance to see more of Kathmandu -- hopefully tomorrow or perhaps when we come back from our trek. Of the little we've seen it's a fascinating place. Dirty and poor yes, but vibrant and abuzz. The streets and alleys are clogged with rickshaws and motorbikes and cars and hash pushers and folks getting ready for their treks, all squeezing through a 15-foot wide corridor. The Hindu holiday -- Daishan -- is coming to an end. The holiday is the time to drink a lot of alcohol and slaughter animals. It would have been nice to be more a part of the festivities -- the extent of our participation has been to raise a number of glasses of beer with our young hotel managers who couldn't make it home for the holidays and so are spending them here, on the rooftop terrace drinking large quantities of alcohol and barking at the moon.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Days 28-32
We're in Kathmandu. A pell-mell city, with a maze of narrow streets and alleys. We're staying in a hotel in the Thamel, the center of town. It's a holiday here akin to Christmas and animals are being slaughtered in the street. Today in the main square policemen are testing their strength by chopping off the heads of water buffaloes. The street scenes are chaotic here, even with most of the people home in their villages. People throwing stones at bad monkeys and boiling goats in barrels on the sidewalk.
We spent the better part of yesterday trying to organize a trek. We learned quickly that trekking in Nepal is no cheap endeavor. Because of cost we are sort of limited in the places we can go. For example a hike in the western part of the country (called the Dolpo) or to the Upper Mustang or around Manaslu (8000 meter peak in a conservation area) would cost us around 80 or 90 dollars a day (which would include a guide and a porter). So we've decided to do the Gokyo trek first (with a guide). It's in the Everest region but doesn't go to base camp. It's supposed to have less traffic. We fly to a small town called Lukla tomorrow and start our hike. The trail ascends for 7 days to the high point at Chon lo pass (5300 meters) than loops around back to Lukla. We've planned 15 days but may take more if we need the time to acclimatize.
I'm short on time and I hope to blog once more before we leave tomorrow morning. Hope all is well.
We spent the better part of yesterday trying to organize a trek. We learned quickly that trekking in Nepal is no cheap endeavor. Because of cost we are sort of limited in the places we can go. For example a hike in the western part of the country (called the Dolpo) or to the Upper Mustang or around Manaslu (8000 meter peak in a conservation area) would cost us around 80 or 90 dollars a day (which would include a guide and a porter). So we've decided to do the Gokyo trek first (with a guide). It's in the Everest region but doesn't go to base camp. It's supposed to have less traffic. We fly to a small town called Lukla tomorrow and start our hike. The trail ascends for 7 days to the high point at Chon lo pass (5300 meters) than loops around back to Lukla. We've planned 15 days but may take more if we need the time to acclimatize.
I'm short on time and I hope to blog once more before we leave tomorrow morning. Hope all is well.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Day 26-27
We are still in Hallstatt. We've had 3 bluebird autumn days. Yesterdy Erin and I went for hike above the town's salt mine and got a great view of the Hallstatter Glacier from a distance. Erin decided she would relax today which probably had more merit than what I did (given how much we've already moved around) but I can't help myself -- if there are mountains to walk in I must walk. Plus I woke up this morning with my boots and camelback on so I had no choice. The trail I hked today was grueling. I think it ascended almost 2000 meters. It meandered through pine forests carpeted with a velvet of bright green moss and then switchbacked above treeline where a crazy tumult of granite rock surged upwards, coelescing into a cirque of 7 jagged, glaciated peaks. I just got back and I'm pooped but I wanted to relate a story about today before I forget. I noticed that Erin did a really good blog today, before I did, so if you're following this, make sure to read hers.
Today my goal was to reach the hut at the foot of Halstatter glacier. After getting above treeline, I heard a voice coming from amoung the boulders and bushes -- someone saying hello in German. Then I saw a head rise above the bushes; it was a man about 40 but it was hard to tell because he had a haggard beard and a weatherworn face. I said hello and then he asked me a question in German. I said I didn't speak German and he said, in a very calm voice, "then I will talk to you in English." He asked if I was going to the hut and coming back the same way. I said yes. He said: "Well if it's not too much trouble could you buy me a couple of beers:" I said ok and he gave me 10 euros and I was off. I got to the hut, which was literally 25 minutes from where I came across the bearded man, and sat down to eat and stare at the glacier. (The glacier has lost 40 % of its mass since the early 1900s, 20% in the last 20 years.) 20 minutes later two more hikers sat down beside me and one of them asked: "Are you the one the guy down below asked to buy him a beer?" I said yes, and the guy replied: "Well he wanted me to let you know that he wants Stiegl and not the other kind of beer." I said ok and went into the hut and bought 2 beers (the only items they sold were beers and sausage -- it goes without saying that the Austrians still like their sausage and salami and beer), put my headphones on, and started walking back down. The bearded guy was still sitting in the same spot. I gave him the 2 beers and his change and he said: "Will you join me?" Not one to turn down a free beer, I said yes and we opened the beers and began to talk. I asked him where he'd come from and he said "right here. I've been here for 2 days." There was nothing there but boulders and bush and his stuff strewn about (though the view was breathtaking). He was carrying only a small knapsack. I then asked him how long he'd been trekking. He said all summer. I asked him where he was going; he said nowhere. Then, noticing my ipod, he asked me what I was listening to and I told him My Morning Jacket. He asked if he could listen. I said yes and gave him the headphones. He told me to play one of my favorite songs so I played 'I Needed It More.' When the song started he laid on his back and closed his eyes. He didn't open them again until the song finished. He took off the headphones and said: "Great song." Then after a pause he said, "I don't what that man was trying to say but I sensed yearning." I sensed that the bearded man had spent the better part of the summer and autumn exploring the deep, dark, murky pools of his consciousness (or, alternatively, letting the light flood in). Whatever he was doing or whoever he was, I felt a strong kinship. We talked a little more, I finished my beer, and I got up to go. As I strapped on my cameback I said I think its time for me to go. He said: "There's no need to go anywhere." Then, after a pause, he held his arms outstretched, palms upward, and said: "Everything is right here." I told him I found it hard to disagree and walked away. What I didn't tell him was that I only agreed with him on the super-duper spiritual level. I couldn't agree with him on any other level -- Erin and my sleeping bag were down in the valley below.
Above the village of Hallstatt, deep in the bowels of the mountains, are salt mines some 6 or 7 centuries old. They are still in operation today. They do tours of the mines. You have to put on some crazy getup and get on some kind of train that takes you into the mountain. The tour is expensive. Erin and I didn't do it. Nichols will be pissed at me.
It's been a shock coming from Armenia to Austria. Transportation, orderliness, and cleanliness in the two countries are on opposite sides of the spectrum. The trains schedules here are perfectly in synch with the buses and both the buses and trains are perfectly in synch with the ferries. The buses and trains are spic-and-span clean -- they sparkle. And I bet you could lick the floor of the bus and not only not get sick but taste sweet snozberries.
Tomorrow we leave Hallstatt for Salzburg for a night. Then the next day we take the train to Munich, get on a plane to London, layover there for a few hours, then board a plane for Dehli, layover there for 2 hours, then on to Kathmandu.
Today my goal was to reach the hut at the foot of Halstatter glacier. After getting above treeline, I heard a voice coming from amoung the boulders and bushes -- someone saying hello in German. Then I saw a head rise above the bushes; it was a man about 40 but it was hard to tell because he had a haggard beard and a weatherworn face. I said hello and then he asked me a question in German. I said I didn't speak German and he said, in a very calm voice, "then I will talk to you in English." He asked if I was going to the hut and coming back the same way. I said yes. He said: "Well if it's not too much trouble could you buy me a couple of beers:" I said ok and he gave me 10 euros and I was off. I got to the hut, which was literally 25 minutes from where I came across the bearded man, and sat down to eat and stare at the glacier. (The glacier has lost 40 % of its mass since the early 1900s, 20% in the last 20 years.) 20 minutes later two more hikers sat down beside me and one of them asked: "Are you the one the guy down below asked to buy him a beer?" I said yes, and the guy replied: "Well he wanted me to let you know that he wants Stiegl and not the other kind of beer." I said ok and went into the hut and bought 2 beers (the only items they sold were beers and sausage -- it goes without saying that the Austrians still like their sausage and salami and beer), put my headphones on, and started walking back down. The bearded guy was still sitting in the same spot. I gave him the 2 beers and his change and he said: "Will you join me?" Not one to turn down a free beer, I said yes and we opened the beers and began to talk. I asked him where he'd come from and he said "right here. I've been here for 2 days." There was nothing there but boulders and bush and his stuff strewn about (though the view was breathtaking). He was carrying only a small knapsack. I then asked him how long he'd been trekking. He said all summer. I asked him where he was going; he said nowhere. Then, noticing my ipod, he asked me what I was listening to and I told him My Morning Jacket. He asked if he could listen. I said yes and gave him the headphones. He told me to play one of my favorite songs so I played 'I Needed It More.' When the song started he laid on his back and closed his eyes. He didn't open them again until the song finished. He took off the headphones and said: "Great song." Then after a pause he said, "I don't what that man was trying to say but I sensed yearning." I sensed that the bearded man had spent the better part of the summer and autumn exploring the deep, dark, murky pools of his consciousness (or, alternatively, letting the light flood in). Whatever he was doing or whoever he was, I felt a strong kinship. We talked a little more, I finished my beer, and I got up to go. As I strapped on my cameback I said I think its time for me to go. He said: "There's no need to go anywhere." Then, after a pause, he held his arms outstretched, palms upward, and said: "Everything is right here." I told him I found it hard to disagree and walked away. What I didn't tell him was that I only agreed with him on the super-duper spiritual level. I couldn't agree with him on any other level -- Erin and my sleeping bag were down in the valley below.
Above the village of Hallstatt, deep in the bowels of the mountains, are salt mines some 6 or 7 centuries old. They are still in operation today. They do tours of the mines. You have to put on some crazy getup and get on some kind of train that takes you into the mountain. The tour is expensive. Erin and I didn't do it. Nichols will be pissed at me.
It's been a shock coming from Armenia to Austria. Transportation, orderliness, and cleanliness in the two countries are on opposite sides of the spectrum. The trains schedules here are perfectly in synch with the buses and both the buses and trains are perfectly in synch with the ferries. The buses and trains are spic-and-span clean -- they sparkle. And I bet you could lick the floor of the bus and not only not get sick but taste sweet snozberries.
Tomorrow we leave Hallstatt for Salzburg for a night. Then the next day we take the train to Munich, get on a plane to London, layover there for a few hours, then board a plane for Dehli, layover there for 2 hours, then on to Kathmandu.
Armenian footwear, food, and other observations in retrospect
I am sitting on the bank of Lake Hallsted, Austria, on what might be the most beautiful fall day. The sky is clear and blue, the sun is warming my bare feet, the leaves in the Austrian Alps are turning and it is so peaceful. Even the train the intermittently runs behind me is quiet. My clothes are being washed, I'm freshly showered and will enjoy the luxury of cooking our own dinner tonight. I think its now been a sufficient amount of time and distance to look back on our adventures in Armenia!
Armenian men wear very pointy shoes. If the shoes are black (black and white are the predominant colors) they prefer a high shine. Women seemed to favor heels for all occasions, the higher the better, especially in yeravan. Needless to say my chacos and ugly brown hiking shoes received many scowls of disapproval.
I don't know for sure if it was our shoes, our clothes, or lack of frequent showers but as paul said, the armenians had no problem staring at us and openly laughing in our faces. The women especially. I did not enjoy this.
Like other third world countries, the domestic animals are treated poorly. Many street-savvy dogs roam the streets of Yerevan and it is some consolation to me that they were more astute about when to cross the street than we were. I was not allowed to pet them.
Best meal: Dilijan, we ate eetch (the only place we found it), lentil kufta (a version of armenian meatballs but made with lentils and maybe some kind of bread crumb served with yogurt sauce), wild mushroom and apricot soup (oh so very yummy, kind of like my mamas but with a sweet twist), and rice pilaf with herbs. At the same place, different meal, we ate my favorite lamajon. It was my favorite because you could really taste the spices, especially cinnamon, which wasn't on most versions of this armenian staple.
Other notable eats included good tolmas (we call them dolmas) at a strange armenian pub called sherlock holmes and a pickled green bean salad with dill and vinegar (it tasted much better than it sounds). Armenian food in general uses tons of fresh herbs like parsley, dill and purple basil. Like Georgia, I think we were lucky to be there at harvest time otherwise the food probably wouldn't have been nearly as fresh and tasty!
We has two excellent versions of taboule, one with more parsley like the kind paul makes and one with more bulgar, the way I make it. These differing versions led me to surmise that eastern armenian (the current boundaries of the country)food is much more russian influenced and western armenian (what is now turkey) food like paul's family makes is moe middle eastern influenced.
As I travel with an eye on infrastructure and buildings, I noticed some interesting and very contradictory things.
1. They do not have orange barrels in armenia, everyone simply dives over the rubble, around the heavy machinery, and right through the piles of road base on the side of the road. It truly is a wonder that they are able to construct a road under these conditions.
2. All natural gas and water lines are above ground, you can smell the gas when you walk by.
3. They are building a 25 million dollar cable car (currently being installed by the swiss of course) to the Tatev monastary as well as building a brand new road to get there. This seems odd as the town Goris that would serve as the base for tourists to eat and sleep when they visit the monastary has marginal hotels, few places to eat and is litterally swimming in garbage. The river that runs through it appears to be the main landfill for the community.
4. My favorite piece of soviet architecture is the genocide memorial in yerevan. Its shocking that the soviets allowed it to be built and even more jaw dropping that it was designed by two soviet architects. The memorial is a recessed area with a fire burning in the center surrounded by 12 monolithic posts that lean inwards and give the feeling that you are surrounded. The interior is full of changing shadows and haunting music is playing. Flowers surround the center area where the fire burns. It is a very special place where they managed to create a very solemn, introspective feeling. It the kind of place where you whisper.
While in armenia I was compelled to read a book on the genocide and in a nutshell, for those who don't know, the Turks killed over 1.5 million armenians in a series of massacres in the late 1800s and then a mass extermination starting in 1915. Armenia was the first country to embrace christianity as a nation and though there were surely other cultural reasons, the muslim Turks felt the need to eliminate the christians. The germans actually learned how to kill masses of people at one time from the Turks who did things like drowning, burning, crucifying and butchering people. We did not visit the places where these horrible things occurred as the places (including where Pauls grandparents are from) are now in Turkey. What is current day Armenia was under Russian control during the genocide and was protected to a large degree. Its strange to think about what the country would have been like if the majority of the population hadn't been murdered in the early part of the century.
Traveling in Armenia was a unique and fascinating experience but ill confess, I was pretty excited to arrive in austria where most people smile back at me, speak english, and feel compelled to pay people to clean their stop lights!
Armenian men wear very pointy shoes. If the shoes are black (black and white are the predominant colors) they prefer a high shine. Women seemed to favor heels for all occasions, the higher the better, especially in yeravan. Needless to say my chacos and ugly brown hiking shoes received many scowls of disapproval.
I don't know for sure if it was our shoes, our clothes, or lack of frequent showers but as paul said, the armenians had no problem staring at us and openly laughing in our faces. The women especially. I did not enjoy this.
Like other third world countries, the domestic animals are treated poorly. Many street-savvy dogs roam the streets of Yerevan and it is some consolation to me that they were more astute about when to cross the street than we were. I was not allowed to pet them.
Best meal: Dilijan, we ate eetch (the only place we found it), lentil kufta (a version of armenian meatballs but made with lentils and maybe some kind of bread crumb served with yogurt sauce), wild mushroom and apricot soup (oh so very yummy, kind of like my mamas but with a sweet twist), and rice pilaf with herbs. At the same place, different meal, we ate my favorite lamajon. It was my favorite because you could really taste the spices, especially cinnamon, which wasn't on most versions of this armenian staple.
Other notable eats included good tolmas (we call them dolmas) at a strange armenian pub called sherlock holmes and a pickled green bean salad with dill and vinegar (it tasted much better than it sounds). Armenian food in general uses tons of fresh herbs like parsley, dill and purple basil. Like Georgia, I think we were lucky to be there at harvest time otherwise the food probably wouldn't have been nearly as fresh and tasty!
We has two excellent versions of taboule, one with more parsley like the kind paul makes and one with more bulgar, the way I make it. These differing versions led me to surmise that eastern armenian (the current boundaries of the country)food is much more russian influenced and western armenian (what is now turkey) food like paul's family makes is moe middle eastern influenced.
As I travel with an eye on infrastructure and buildings, I noticed some interesting and very contradictory things.
1. They do not have orange barrels in armenia, everyone simply dives over the rubble, around the heavy machinery, and right through the piles of road base on the side of the road. It truly is a wonder that they are able to construct a road under these conditions.
2. All natural gas and water lines are above ground, you can smell the gas when you walk by.
3. They are building a 25 million dollar cable car (currently being installed by the swiss of course) to the Tatev monastary as well as building a brand new road to get there. This seems odd as the town Goris that would serve as the base for tourists to eat and sleep when they visit the monastary has marginal hotels, few places to eat and is litterally swimming in garbage. The river that runs through it appears to be the main landfill for the community.
4. My favorite piece of soviet architecture is the genocide memorial in yerevan. Its shocking that the soviets allowed it to be built and even more jaw dropping that it was designed by two soviet architects. The memorial is a recessed area with a fire burning in the center surrounded by 12 monolithic posts that lean inwards and give the feeling that you are surrounded. The interior is full of changing shadows and haunting music is playing. Flowers surround the center area where the fire burns. It is a very special place where they managed to create a very solemn, introspective feeling. It the kind of place where you whisper.
While in armenia I was compelled to read a book on the genocide and in a nutshell, for those who don't know, the Turks killed over 1.5 million armenians in a series of massacres in the late 1800s and then a mass extermination starting in 1915. Armenia was the first country to embrace christianity as a nation and though there were surely other cultural reasons, the muslim Turks felt the need to eliminate the christians. The germans actually learned how to kill masses of people at one time from the Turks who did things like drowning, burning, crucifying and butchering people. We did not visit the places where these horrible things occurred as the places (including where Pauls grandparents are from) are now in Turkey. What is current day Armenia was under Russian control during the genocide and was protected to a large degree. Its strange to think about what the country would have been like if the majority of the population hadn't been murdered in the early part of the century.
Traveling in Armenia was a unique and fascinating experience but ill confess, I was pretty excited to arrive in austria where most people smile back at me, speak english, and feel compelled to pay people to clean their stop lights!
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Day 25
We are now in Hallstatt, a small village in the Austrian Alps. It is achingly beautiful and, one of, if not the most, idyllic setting I've ever set my eyes on. The village is a strip of Austrian gingerbread homes tiered on the side of a cliff, alongside a crystal blue mountain lake with soaring mountains on all sides. Flowers spill out of planters on wooden balconies and the decidious trees amoung the dark green pines on the mountain slopes are turning red and yellow. Our rented apartment is on the lake and we are splurging for a few nights. Tomorrow we're doing a hike to a glacier. I could easily spend the rest of my days here.
We took the train from Vienna -- we hurtled through the beautiful Austrian countryside as fairyland villages tucked in the folds of green hills with gingerbread houses painted in various shades of pastel and little churches with their perfect steeples peaking over the treetops flitted by like phantasmagoric scenes in a dream.
Traveling by train across the European countryside once again made me appreciate: 1) the european rail system which spiderwebs throughout the continent, making it easy to get anywhere without a car. It makes me yearn for the day when our leaders have the foresight and political will to do the same in the states; 2) how much open land remains -- on a continent so old and inhabitated by civilized comunities for so long, its a wonder (to an American like myself who see cities bloat in good times in the bat of an eye) that the entire swath of land is not one giant swollen city, with field and pasture gone, and mountains obliterated in the name of onward progress. I guess the people gotta eat, and with the vast amount of human beings mashed onto such a small continent they have no choice but to live in dense cities and compressed villages, leaving the rest for growing food and recreation. It also helps that the population levels have been thinned out over the centuries by plague and war. And given its shortage of land and bloodied history, its truly amazing that the european people are now living in relative harmony, under one loose union.
As we approached the Alps today I remembered the moment 2 years ago when Erin and I were standing in a park in the hill town of La Mora in the Piedmonte staring out across the vineyard strewn valley below at the towering Mt. Blanc and its jagged snow-capped buddies. I thought at the time I must one day come back and walk in these mountains. And here we are and walk we will.
Back to Vienna and St. Stephen's cathedral. Lord. If the object of the builder was to make the sheep drop to their knees in awe, to build a place here on earth for god to be venerated, I say he succeeded mightily. As I crossed the threshold I thought about converting. The graceful arches and intricate stonework are breathtaking. I wanted to roll out my Big Agnus and sleeping bag and spend the night there. And what a marked difference between the earthy 4th to 6th century churches dotting the Georgian/Armenian countryside and the grandiose cathedrals of Europe. While the architects of the Georgian/Armenian churches sought to create the illusion of God's presence, they also aimed to erect a building which also celebrates man's connection to the earth. I dug that.
There is a dude at the bar where I'm now sitting with the the greatest laugh I've ever heard. I want to buy him a beer.
On the train I had the opportunity for the first time during our travels to write in earnest (on notepad). And while we trundled across the Austrian countryside I thought a bit more about our travels in the Caucuses. I think the words that best sum up the last few weeks were uttered by one of the decisive Czechs. He said, in his broken English, his tired eyes more eloquent than his words, his voice plaintive and defeated -- he said: "No more mashrutkas." It was a tiring 3 weeks but more than worth it in my opinion. I think the hardest thing for us (and I'm sure Erin will talk more in depth about this) was that we always felt like we just got off the UFO, skin green and slimy, head cone-shaped, eyes bulging -- especially in Karabakh where tourists are as rare as outdoor garbage cans. But I guess that is why we travel -- to throw ourselves into the unknown. The number of times Erin and/or I sat dumbly staring, faces blank, not knowing what was going on, are too many to count. But those are the memories that endure. And the past few weeks generated a number of them for us to ponder in our remaining years.
The Armenians are a people of many contradictions. They dress neatly but feel no compunction to throw their trash in a garbage bin. They drive frenetically but walk about lazily. They drive Mercedes and BMWs (for which they apparently save up for years) but live in squalid conditions. Armenia Armenians fought for Karabakh Armenians but now they don't like them. They kind of like the Turks now even though the Turks sill refuse to acknowledge that they once killed 1.5 million Armenians by means of mass slaughter and deportation and support Azerbejain in its claim to Karabakh. Lenin statutes were torn down after the fall of the Soviet Union and parks and plazas were renamed, but there still seems to be a nostalagia for the soviet era when, in the words of 2 people we spoke to, it was easier, when everyone had electricity, gas, water and a warm home or flat to live in. I think that is why I found it so fascinating.
The bartender is now working a rubic's cube while a number of Austrian patrons watch with bated breathe.
Sorry to carry on. The sun is setting and the granite is pink. Beautiful.
Beat State.
We took the train from Vienna -- we hurtled through the beautiful Austrian countryside as fairyland villages tucked in the folds of green hills with gingerbread houses painted in various shades of pastel and little churches with their perfect steeples peaking over the treetops flitted by like phantasmagoric scenes in a dream.
Traveling by train across the European countryside once again made me appreciate: 1) the european rail system which spiderwebs throughout the continent, making it easy to get anywhere without a car. It makes me yearn for the day when our leaders have the foresight and political will to do the same in the states; 2) how much open land remains -- on a continent so old and inhabitated by civilized comunities for so long, its a wonder (to an American like myself who see cities bloat in good times in the bat of an eye) that the entire swath of land is not one giant swollen city, with field and pasture gone, and mountains obliterated in the name of onward progress. I guess the people gotta eat, and with the vast amount of human beings mashed onto such a small continent they have no choice but to live in dense cities and compressed villages, leaving the rest for growing food and recreation. It also helps that the population levels have been thinned out over the centuries by plague and war. And given its shortage of land and bloodied history, its truly amazing that the european people are now living in relative harmony, under one loose union.
As we approached the Alps today I remembered the moment 2 years ago when Erin and I were standing in a park in the hill town of La Mora in the Piedmonte staring out across the vineyard strewn valley below at the towering Mt. Blanc and its jagged snow-capped buddies. I thought at the time I must one day come back and walk in these mountains. And here we are and walk we will.
Back to Vienna and St. Stephen's cathedral. Lord. If the object of the builder was to make the sheep drop to their knees in awe, to build a place here on earth for god to be venerated, I say he succeeded mightily. As I crossed the threshold I thought about converting. The graceful arches and intricate stonework are breathtaking. I wanted to roll out my Big Agnus and sleeping bag and spend the night there. And what a marked difference between the earthy 4th to 6th century churches dotting the Georgian/Armenian countryside and the grandiose cathedrals of Europe. While the architects of the Georgian/Armenian churches sought to create the illusion of God's presence, they also aimed to erect a building which also celebrates man's connection to the earth. I dug that.
There is a dude at the bar where I'm now sitting with the the greatest laugh I've ever heard. I want to buy him a beer.
On the train I had the opportunity for the first time during our travels to write in earnest (on notepad). And while we trundled across the Austrian countryside I thought a bit more about our travels in the Caucuses. I think the words that best sum up the last few weeks were uttered by one of the decisive Czechs. He said, in his broken English, his tired eyes more eloquent than his words, his voice plaintive and defeated -- he said: "No more mashrutkas." It was a tiring 3 weeks but more than worth it in my opinion. I think the hardest thing for us (and I'm sure Erin will talk more in depth about this) was that we always felt like we just got off the UFO, skin green and slimy, head cone-shaped, eyes bulging -- especially in Karabakh where tourists are as rare as outdoor garbage cans. But I guess that is why we travel -- to throw ourselves into the unknown. The number of times Erin and/or I sat dumbly staring, faces blank, not knowing what was going on, are too many to count. But those are the memories that endure. And the past few weeks generated a number of them for us to ponder in our remaining years.
The Armenians are a people of many contradictions. They dress neatly but feel no compunction to throw their trash in a garbage bin. They drive frenetically but walk about lazily. They drive Mercedes and BMWs (for which they apparently save up for years) but live in squalid conditions. Armenia Armenians fought for Karabakh Armenians but now they don't like them. They kind of like the Turks now even though the Turks sill refuse to acknowledge that they once killed 1.5 million Armenians by means of mass slaughter and deportation and support Azerbejain in its claim to Karabakh. Lenin statutes were torn down after the fall of the Soviet Union and parks and plazas were renamed, but there still seems to be a nostalagia for the soviet era when, in the words of 2 people we spoke to, it was easier, when everyone had electricity, gas, water and a warm home or flat to live in. I think that is why I found it so fascinating.
The bartender is now working a rubic's cube while a number of Austrian patrons watch with bated breathe.
Sorry to carry on. The sun is setting and the granite is pink. Beautiful.
Beat State.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Day 24
We are safely in Vienna. I'm sitting at a computer console in an Austrian pub drinking a german lager. Just had a healthy serving of roasted pork, sauerkraut and dumplings. I think it goes without saying that Vienna is a captivating city, worth at least a week to wander the narrow streets and to explore the museums. I really like the vibe here - and the austrians have been, as expected, wonderful hosts thus far. We unfortunately don't have much time in Europe so we are headed out tomorrow for a small town in western Austria called Hallstat in the Alps.
The contrast between Austria and the Caucuses couldn't be more marked. Food, culture, environmental ethic, cleanliness -- all incredibly different. We saw an Austrian dude today cleaning the black metal box that houses the walk/don't walk signal at a crosswalk with a handrag.
One last tidbit on Armenia. It is known for its cognac which is made near the center of Yerevan in Willy Wonkaesque looking factories. Yesterday Erin and I scheduled a tour of one of them. At the end of the tour they apparently pour you a healthy portion of a 10-year old cognac. And I wanted to see the Armenian oopa loopas. We ended up going to the wrong factory and missing the tour. Later that night I tried a cognac for the first time. A 5-year made by Ararat. I've never been a cognac drinker but I saw the light last night. The smooth, mellow finish was emblematic of the people who brew it. What tasty wholesomeness. I like it so much I bought a bottle at the duty free to drink in Austria. The Poles at the Warsaw airport took it from me. I was livid -- ask Erin -- despite the fact that the guy whö took it from me was a big Pole wearing fatigues and a fedora and was clearly unapologetic about throwing the bottle in the garabage. I don't know if the stuff is sold in the states (I've never seen it) but, if you can find it, pick up a bottle ASAP (the brand names are Ararat or Noy).
My post mortem on the Caucuses: it was truly a unique travel experience. It was exhilirating at times (the mountains in Kazbegi, the melting monastery at Anapat, the view of Ararat towering over Yerevan), totally foreign nearly all the time, and frustrating -- mostly because of the language barrier. I've never felt so out of place before in all my travels, including China and the Solomon Islands. It made for an interesting experience but also at times a challenging one. I was hoping for more of connection with the Armenian people but that was not to be. I think perhaps I made the mistake of not trying to reach out to an Armenian or two before we left for our trip -- someone who could have shown us the ropes. In any event I enjoyed the Caucuses immensely and will never forget them.
The contrast between Austria and the Caucuses couldn't be more marked. Food, culture, environmental ethic, cleanliness -- all incredibly different. We saw an Austrian dude today cleaning the black metal box that houses the walk/don't walk signal at a crosswalk with a handrag.
One last tidbit on Armenia. It is known for its cognac which is made near the center of Yerevan in Willy Wonkaesque looking factories. Yesterday Erin and I scheduled a tour of one of them. At the end of the tour they apparently pour you a healthy portion of a 10-year old cognac. And I wanted to see the Armenian oopa loopas. We ended up going to the wrong factory and missing the tour. Later that night I tried a cognac for the first time. A 5-year made by Ararat. I've never been a cognac drinker but I saw the light last night. The smooth, mellow finish was emblematic of the people who brew it. What tasty wholesomeness. I like it so much I bought a bottle at the duty free to drink in Austria. The Poles at the Warsaw airport took it from me. I was livid -- ask Erin -- despite the fact that the guy whö took it from me was a big Pole wearing fatigues and a fedora and was clearly unapologetic about throwing the bottle in the garabage. I don't know if the stuff is sold in the states (I've never seen it) but, if you can find it, pick up a bottle ASAP (the brand names are Ararat or Noy).
My post mortem on the Caucuses: it was truly a unique travel experience. It was exhilirating at times (the mountains in Kazbegi, the melting monastery at Anapat, the view of Ararat towering over Yerevan), totally foreign nearly all the time, and frustrating -- mostly because of the language barrier. I've never felt so out of place before in all my travels, including China and the Solomon Islands. It made for an interesting experience but also at times a challenging one. I was hoping for more of connection with the Armenian people but that was not to be. I think perhaps I made the mistake of not trying to reach out to an Armenian or two before we left for our trip -- someone who could have shown us the ropes. In any event I enjoyed the Caucuses immensely and will never forget them.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Days 21-23
Today is our last day in Armenia. We only stayed the day in Karabakh and the following morning, to borrow a figure of speech from Jack Kerouac, who I'm reading for the first time, we "balled" it from Stepanakert to Yerevan in a shared taxi driven by a young hipster Armenian who had a penchant for Dire Straits, Metallica and the Scorpions. He was also a fine multi-tasker -- he could smoke cigarettes, change the CD, talk on his cell phone and wipe the windshield with a rag all while barreling around hairpin turns on a precipitous mountain road swathed in a pea-soup fog so dense we couldn't see more than 10 feet in any given direction. That did not prevent him from passing every vehicle on the road when the need arose. In any event we made to Yerevan safely.
Yerevan is a great city. The snowy peaks of Mt. Ararat loom in the distance and the fertile Ararat plains, where every variety of vegetable is grown, stretch far to the east into Turkey. The city is dotted with small parks sporting chic outdoor cafes where the young and the old relax under the walnut and oak trees, donning smart threads, sipping turkish coffee and smoking european cigarettes. There is a lassitude here I have not found in any other city I've visited. The city folk stroll the cafe-lined streets at a snail's pace, hand in hand, with nowhere to go and nothing to do but enjoy the evening. It's quite infectious.
Yesterday we decided to take a tour. We tired of negotiating (the language barrier is extremely frustrating -- a simple question can elicit mass confusion) and mashrutkas and we wanted things easy for a day. On the bus to a 1st century pagan temple we ran into the indecisive Czechs again. They too had tired of mashrutkas. In fact on their way back to Yerevan they told the driver to stop the mashrutka because the fumes in the back of the bus were so bad they couldn't breathe. The passengers and driver were apparently utterly flummoxed as the now decisive Czechs got of the mashrutka in the middle of nowhere and had to hitch a ride the rest of the way to Yerevan.
Today we went to the genocide memorial and museum. The only piece of soviet architecture worth a damn. The memorial is very moving and choked me up. The museum was too but it felt like a repository of documentary evidence against the Turks.
Armenians are not pita people. They eat lavash which is a chewy, tissue-thin bread. It's delicious. There are lamhajoon joints all over town. You can get one lamhajoon for 100 dram which is roughly equivalent to 30 cents. They eat their lamhajoon with tan, which is a tasty yogurt drink that goes really well with the little lamb-paste pizzas. Spas (yogurt soup) is also a staple -- I've eaten it at virtually every meal.
Tomorrow morning we fly to Vienna. I think we'll stay there for the night and then take a train to the Alps somewhere -- we don't know where yet. In fact Erin is sitting next to me trying to find a relaxing destination that is accessible by train and had good hiking.
Ang - I'll always be your apprentice..
Yerevan is a great city. The snowy peaks of Mt. Ararat loom in the distance and the fertile Ararat plains, where every variety of vegetable is grown, stretch far to the east into Turkey. The city is dotted with small parks sporting chic outdoor cafes where the young and the old relax under the walnut and oak trees, donning smart threads, sipping turkish coffee and smoking european cigarettes. There is a lassitude here I have not found in any other city I've visited. The city folk stroll the cafe-lined streets at a snail's pace, hand in hand, with nowhere to go and nothing to do but enjoy the evening. It's quite infectious.
Yesterday we decided to take a tour. We tired of negotiating (the language barrier is extremely frustrating -- a simple question can elicit mass confusion) and mashrutkas and we wanted things easy for a day. On the bus to a 1st century pagan temple we ran into the indecisive Czechs again. They too had tired of mashrutkas. In fact on their way back to Yerevan they told the driver to stop the mashrutka because the fumes in the back of the bus were so bad they couldn't breathe. The passengers and driver were apparently utterly flummoxed as the now decisive Czechs got of the mashrutka in the middle of nowhere and had to hitch a ride the rest of the way to Yerevan.
Today we went to the genocide memorial and museum. The only piece of soviet architecture worth a damn. The memorial is very moving and choked me up. The museum was too but it felt like a repository of documentary evidence against the Turks.
Armenians are not pita people. They eat lavash which is a chewy, tissue-thin bread. It's delicious. There are lamhajoon joints all over town. You can get one lamhajoon for 100 dram which is roughly equivalent to 30 cents. They eat their lamhajoon with tan, which is a tasty yogurt drink that goes really well with the little lamb-paste pizzas. Spas (yogurt soup) is also a staple -- I've eaten it at virtually every meal.
Tomorrow morning we fly to Vienna. I think we'll stay there for the night and then take a train to the Alps somewhere -- we don't know where yet. In fact Erin is sitting next to me trying to find a relaxing destination that is accessible by train and had good hiking.
Ang - I'll always be your apprentice..
Monday, October 4, 2010
Days 19-20
We arrived in Nagorno Karabakh today. The road torturously wound through the mountains, making me nausous even though I held back on the oghee last night -- the mashrutka stunk of garlic and onions adding to the nausea. Nagorno means mountainous in Armenia. It's no misnomer. The people here are even more curious than their comrades in the rest of Armenia -- but very friendly. Every child in the street says hello and then gawks in anticipation to see what we'll say or do. I was thinking maybe I'll start doing a little jig for them.
Yesterday was a great day, one of the best of our trip so far (in my opinion). It didn't start out that way though. We decided to share a taxi with a pair of indecisive Czechs to a town called Tetav -- to cut back on costs. Very friendly Czechs but insufferably indecisive. The plan was to take the taxi to the town, see the World Heritage monastery (which was actually quite beautiful and interesting) and then hike down a deep canyon to a Satan's Bridge and have the taxi catch up with us there later in the day. Just planning that rendezvous took hours, mainly due to the language barrier but also because of the Czechs who didn't know what they wanted to do and a little girl who looked just liked my niece (Sydney) and who told us in her very broken english that we couldn't "go down there" but she couldn't tell us why and that there were alot of poisonous snakes that bite tourists. But once we got underway it turned out that all the hassle was well worth it. The trail descended into a canyon and at the bottom was a 14th century monastery that had succumbed to the strangles of the forest. It hadn't been dug up and looked like it was melting back into the earth. We had the place to ourselves -- a memorable experience.
Last night an Armenian staying at our guesthouse spoke some english and told me that there is or was a town in southern Armenia named "Halaj." He thought that might be where our name came from. We tried to find it on the map but it wasn't there. He thinks it's just north of Kapon, a town in Southern Armenia about 30 k or so from the Iranian border. He also opined that the name could have Turkic roots.
There was also a family from St. Petersburg at the guesthouse last night. The grandfather was 96 and looked like he was 60. He poured me and one of the Czech's a shot of oghee and we all clinked glasses. The Czech and I took a sip. The Russians, including the 96-year old grandpa, threw them down. The old man put his empty glass on the table and looked at both of us and politely asked "Is the vodka too strong?" Called out.
For the first time in my life I have a crush on a car. They're called Nivas, made by Lada I think. They are 4-wheel drive hatchback Chevette's. They come in white and red. They go over anything. I feel all atwitter when I see them buzzing around town. I want one. Erin doesn't feel as strongly about them as I do.
In and around Goris there are thousands of caves dug into sandstone spires. They apparently date back to the 4th century, places to hide from the hordes of persians and parthians and mongols and turks over the centuries. Now the townsfolk use them to stable livestock.
Karabakh is heavily militarized as expected. Lot of dudes in fatigues. They want to know exactly where you're going and you get a permission slip to go to those places only. The guy at the border checkpoint looked at my passport and said "you're armenian but you don't speak armenian." I've gotten that more than a few times. My peps are disappointed in me.
Yesterday was a great day, one of the best of our trip so far (in my opinion). It didn't start out that way though. We decided to share a taxi with a pair of indecisive Czechs to a town called Tetav -- to cut back on costs. Very friendly Czechs but insufferably indecisive. The plan was to take the taxi to the town, see the World Heritage monastery (which was actually quite beautiful and interesting) and then hike down a deep canyon to a Satan's Bridge and have the taxi catch up with us there later in the day. Just planning that rendezvous took hours, mainly due to the language barrier but also because of the Czechs who didn't know what they wanted to do and a little girl who looked just liked my niece (Sydney) and who told us in her very broken english that we couldn't "go down there" but she couldn't tell us why and that there were alot of poisonous snakes that bite tourists. But once we got underway it turned out that all the hassle was well worth it. The trail descended into a canyon and at the bottom was a 14th century monastery that had succumbed to the strangles of the forest. It hadn't been dug up and looked like it was melting back into the earth. We had the place to ourselves -- a memorable experience.
Last night an Armenian staying at our guesthouse spoke some english and told me that there is or was a town in southern Armenia named "Halaj." He thought that might be where our name came from. We tried to find it on the map but it wasn't there. He thinks it's just north of Kapon, a town in Southern Armenia about 30 k or so from the Iranian border. He also opined that the name could have Turkic roots.
There was also a family from St. Petersburg at the guesthouse last night. The grandfather was 96 and looked like he was 60. He poured me and one of the Czech's a shot of oghee and we all clinked glasses. The Czech and I took a sip. The Russians, including the 96-year old grandpa, threw them down. The old man put his empty glass on the table and looked at both of us and politely asked "Is the vodka too strong?" Called out.
For the first time in my life I have a crush on a car. They're called Nivas, made by Lada I think. They are 4-wheel drive hatchback Chevette's. They come in white and red. They go over anything. I feel all atwitter when I see them buzzing around town. I want one. Erin doesn't feel as strongly about them as I do.
In and around Goris there are thousands of caves dug into sandstone spires. They apparently date back to the 4th century, places to hide from the hordes of persians and parthians and mongols and turks over the centuries. Now the townsfolk use them to stable livestock.
Karabakh is heavily militarized as expected. Lot of dudes in fatigues. They want to know exactly where you're going and you get a permission slip to go to those places only. The guy at the border checkpoint looked at my passport and said "you're armenian but you don't speak armenian." I've gotten that more than a few times. My peps are disappointed in me.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Days 17-18
Well, we didn't quite make it to Nagorno Karabakh. We took the mashrutka (more on them later) to Yerevan and tried to get a bus to Stepanakert but, as we've come to expect, the guide book was wrong and there were no buses leaving for Stepanakert. So we decided to stay in Yerevan and wait until the morning to catch the first bus for Karabakh but we couldn't find a budget room so we shared a taxi to Goris with a Armenian woman who lives in the Ukraine and speaks 4 languages (Ukranian, Russian, English, and Armenian). Goris is a lovely little town in southern Armenian, about 50 k from the Iranian border. It is surrounded by cragy mountains carpeted in golden velure. We've decided to stay here for a couple of days and then catch a mashrutka to Stepanakert on Monday. We're loafing today because last night we drank to much oghee (Armenian home-made vodka) made by the man of the house in his backyard still.
Some observations on Armenians:
1) Contrary to what I expected, not all Armenians look alike. Most do but there is wide range of skin and hair color and an array of nose shapes and sizes. Alot of blood-mixing, mostly with their Russian neighbors.
2) It is not uncommon to see Armenian men, like their Georgian brethren and similar to Solomon Islanders, hook arms or hold hands while walking.
3) The fisherman of Lake Sevan sit on the side of the road by themselves, after a morning of fishing, and when a car passes they hold their arms straight out to their sides to signal that they have fresh fish.
4) Erin and I are still half caveman, half clown. Caveman because, just like in Georgia, we find ourselves grunting to communicate -- no one speaks english. Clown because we're their entertainment. I think the Georgians and the Armenians stare more than the Chinese. People open their windows and stick their heads out to get a good look at our walking freakshow. They stop whatever their doing to stare and giggle. I'm in the market for a clown horn that I can honk intermittently as I walk down the street and a gag lapel flower that I can squirt into the faces of inquistive passer-bys.
5) Yerevan couldn't be more different than every other town and village in Armenia. Yerevan feels very modern and European, the people very cultured and fashionable. Every other town and village is still living in the medeval days, the people poor and incorrigibly curious. We've found the Armenians to be as friendly as the Georgians and don't wear the Russian perma-scowl. It makes no difference that I'm Armenian -- those who I've told (and understand what I said) are curious as to where my family was from but I haven't received a shower of kisses or any gold rings yet.
Mashrutkas. The little russian mini vans with elevated roofs, no hood, and no storage space. They are the main means of transport in the Caucuses. They fit about 12 passengers, always tightly. They are dirt cheap for getting from point A to point B. They never leave on a set schedule -- they only leave when they're full. The drivers actively use drugs of some sort, probably meth. They trundle up steep mountain roads at 10 miles per hour and blast off like a rocket on the flats. If there are cows or dogs or humans or any other form of life in the road the mashrutka driver speeds up -- to prove a point (a very manly one). The inside of the mashrutka always has a delightful odor, one that can only be found in a mashrutka. The mashrutka stops for passengers so that they can buy bread or fruit from the road vendors. I think one passenger, an older man, had two buckets of offal with him that he stored under the seats. Offal by the way is used in a number of Georgian and Armenian dishes. We haven't tried that yet and probably won't. We have tried basturma (cured meat unique to Armenia). They put it on pizzas. Erin doesn't like basturma as it turns out.
Some observations on Armenians:
1) Contrary to what I expected, not all Armenians look alike. Most do but there is wide range of skin and hair color and an array of nose shapes and sizes. Alot of blood-mixing, mostly with their Russian neighbors.
2) It is not uncommon to see Armenian men, like their Georgian brethren and similar to Solomon Islanders, hook arms or hold hands while walking.
3) The fisherman of Lake Sevan sit on the side of the road by themselves, after a morning of fishing, and when a car passes they hold their arms straight out to their sides to signal that they have fresh fish.
4) Erin and I are still half caveman, half clown. Caveman because, just like in Georgia, we find ourselves grunting to communicate -- no one speaks english. Clown because we're their entertainment. I think the Georgians and the Armenians stare more than the Chinese. People open their windows and stick their heads out to get a good look at our walking freakshow. They stop whatever their doing to stare and giggle. I'm in the market for a clown horn that I can honk intermittently as I walk down the street and a gag lapel flower that I can squirt into the faces of inquistive passer-bys.
5) Yerevan couldn't be more different than every other town and village in Armenia. Yerevan feels very modern and European, the people very cultured and fashionable. Every other town and village is still living in the medeval days, the people poor and incorrigibly curious. We've found the Armenians to be as friendly as the Georgians and don't wear the Russian perma-scowl. It makes no difference that I'm Armenian -- those who I've told (and understand what I said) are curious as to where my family was from but I haven't received a shower of kisses or any gold rings yet.
Mashrutkas. The little russian mini vans with elevated roofs, no hood, and no storage space. They are the main means of transport in the Caucuses. They fit about 12 passengers, always tightly. They are dirt cheap for getting from point A to point B. They never leave on a set schedule -- they only leave when they're full. The drivers actively use drugs of some sort, probably meth. They trundle up steep mountain roads at 10 miles per hour and blast off like a rocket on the flats. If there are cows or dogs or humans or any other form of life in the road the mashrutka driver speeds up -- to prove a point (a very manly one). The inside of the mashrutka always has a delightful odor, one that can only be found in a mashrutka. The mashrutka stops for passengers so that they can buy bread or fruit from the road vendors. I think one passenger, an older man, had two buckets of offal with him that he stored under the seats. Offal by the way is used in a number of Georgian and Armenian dishes. We haven't tried that yet and probably won't. We have tried basturma (cured meat unique to Armenia). They put it on pizzas. Erin doesn't like basturma as it turns out.
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