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Letter from Nowhere: off the map
The leafy boulevards of Stepanakert, capital of Nagorno-Karabakh, are
beginning to attract visitors, but to most of the international community
the republic doesn't exist
- Dan Peleschuk
- Guardian Weekly, Tuesday 21 August 2012 13.59 BST
Breakaway ... a boy joins in as Stepanakert residents celebrate after a
2006 referendum overwhelmingly approved a constitution declaring
Nagorno-Karabakh an independent state. Photograph: Karen Minasyan/AFP/Getty
In many ways, Stepanakert resembles a small American town on the
rise. Its main boulevards have been repaved, locals stroll through the
renovated central square past its elegant fountain, and hotels have
sprouted on every other block to hold the new influx of visitors.
There's just one thing: it doesn't really exist, and neither does the
ethnic Armenian Nagorno-Karabakh Republic, of which Stepanakert is the
capital. According to the rest of the world, the region belongs to
Azerbaijan, and no one - not even Armenia, Karabakh's patron state -
recognises it.
But that doesn't stop the self-proclaimed country from celebrating its 20
years of de facto independence this year. Patriotic banners flutter above
Stepanakert's streets, and posters of the soldiers who during a bloody war
in the early 1990s helped wrest the land away from Azerbaijan line the
sidewalks.
Not long ago much of the city was in ruins and the economy virtually
non-existent. Today locals meander along leafy streets lined with new
banks, stores and government buildings. A tourism industry is slowly taking
root, as travellers from across the world descend on the tiny republic,
population about 141,000, in increasing numbers.
But under the surface are scars of a war that left more than 30,000
dead and many displaced. War is the only reason the Nagorno-Karabakh
Republic exists. War - the memories of it, the fears of its return-is
what makes it tick. Perhaps the best reminder of this is Aghdam, the
ghostly shell of a former Azeri settlement levelled by Armenian forces
in 1993. Just a short drive from Stepanakert, the one-time city of
around 30,000 was reduced to grassy craters and jagged stone remnants
of former apartments, schools and community centres. Visible from the
only road that leads north to Karabakh's famed ancient monasteries, it
is easy to notice.
Yet ordinary Karabakh Armenians are trying to capitalise on the
relative post-war stability. Even as border tensions have escalated in
recent months, which have seen deadly skirmishes between Armenian and
Azeri forces, small-time businessman Ashot Simonyan says foreign
visitors have continued to stream through his spare rental apartments.
"Everyone who comes here really loves it," he says with a salesman's grin.
"We have everything a tourist needs - it's completely normal here."
Every week Guardian Weekly publishes a Letter from one of its readers
from around the world. We welcome submissions - they should focus on
giving a clear sense of a place and its people. Send them to *
[email protected]
The leafy boulevards of Stepanakert, capital of Nagorno-Karabakh, are
beginning to attract visitors, but to most of the international community
the republic doesn't exist
- Dan Peleschuk
- Guardian Weekly, Tuesday 21 August 2012 13.59 BST
Breakaway ... a boy joins in as Stepanakert residents celebrate after a
2006 referendum overwhelmingly approved a constitution declaring
Nagorno-Karabakh an independent state. Photograph: Karen Minasyan/AFP/Getty
In many ways, Stepanakert resembles a small American town on the
rise. Its main boulevards have been repaved, locals stroll through the
renovated central square past its elegant fountain, and hotels have
sprouted on every other block to hold the new influx of visitors.
There's just one thing: it doesn't really exist, and neither does the
ethnic Armenian Nagorno-Karabakh Republic, of which Stepanakert is the
capital. According to the rest of the world, the region belongs to
Azerbaijan, and no one - not even Armenia, Karabakh's patron state -
recognises it.
But that doesn't stop the self-proclaimed country from celebrating its 20
years of de facto independence this year. Patriotic banners flutter above
Stepanakert's streets, and posters of the soldiers who during a bloody war
in the early 1990s helped wrest the land away from Azerbaijan line the
sidewalks.
Not long ago much of the city was in ruins and the economy virtually
non-existent. Today locals meander along leafy streets lined with new
banks, stores and government buildings. A tourism industry is slowly taking
root, as travellers from across the world descend on the tiny republic,
population about 141,000, in increasing numbers.
But under the surface are scars of a war that left more than 30,000
dead and many displaced. War is the only reason the Nagorno-Karabakh
Republic exists. War - the memories of it, the fears of its return-is
what makes it tick. Perhaps the best reminder of this is Aghdam, the
ghostly shell of a former Azeri settlement levelled by Armenian forces
in 1993. Just a short drive from Stepanakert, the one-time city of
around 30,000 was reduced to grassy craters and jagged stone remnants
of former apartments, schools and community centres. Visible from the
only road that leads north to Karabakh's famed ancient monasteries, it
is easy to notice.
Yet ordinary Karabakh Armenians are trying to capitalise on the
relative post-war stability. Even as border tensions have escalated in
recent months, which have seen deadly skirmishes between Armenian and
Azeri forces, small-time businessman Ashot Simonyan says foreign
visitors have continued to stream through his spare rental apartments.
"Everyone who comes here really loves it," he says with a salesman's grin.
"We have everything a tourist needs - it's completely normal here."
Every week Guardian Weekly publishes a Letter from one of its readers
from around the world. We welcome submissions - they should focus on
giving a clear sense of a place and its people. Send them to *
[email protected]