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.
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