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The Guardian: Stepanakert beginning to attract visitors
tert.am
16:12 - 22.08.12
By Dan Peleschuk
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."
tert.am
16:12 - 22.08.12
By Dan Peleschuk
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."