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  • A love affair with Armenia

    Hindustan Times, India
    March 15 2014

    A love affair with Armenia

    Amrah Ashraf, Hindustan Times
    March 15, 2014


    Oh, another trip to Europe?" quipped a friend, after I told him I was
    visiting Armenia. "Err... Armenia is in Asia!" I said. He laughed and
    placed a bet that it was in east Europe, next to Georgia. "But Georgia
    is also in Asia," I pointed out. We raised the stakes.

    Long story short: I won Rs. 5,000. Armenia is in Asia. And so is Georgia.

    I can hardly blame my friend. Armenia is incredibly obscure. But it's
    got plenty to talk about. The country was the first one to adopt
    Christianity as its state religion (as early as the fourth century!);
    it has its own script and language and it was a part of the Soviet
    Union. The Kardashian family (they of the reality show, 72-day
    marriage and sex tape) originated from Armenia, though I doubt it's a
    point of pride for any of its three million population.

    This much I knew even before I visited. What I didn't know was that it
    would only take only three days for me to be mesmerised by its beauty,
    seduced by its history and fall in love with its people. Here's how it
    happened.

    The Courtship
    My love affair with Armenia started in the most unusual way. Not a big
    fan of air travel, I woke up, startled, to bone-rattling turbulence. A
    vast expanse of blue, motionless water stretched out below, reflecting
    the sky above. Lurking somewhere in between were mountain peaks so
    close to the aircraft, I was certain we'd have speed breakers of the
    fatal kind. But one peak rose higher than the others, haloed by
    clouds, and glowing with a sunny amber hue. And there, amidst the
    jolts and bumps, I had my "at first sight" moment - and we hadn't even
    landed yet!

    Armenian men and women performing a traditional dance
    Back on terra firma at the capital's Yerevan Zvartnots International
    Airport, I took in a big gulp of fresh air, grateful to be alive. I
    spotted that gorgeous sun-kissed peak again, far away, between the
    clouds and the mist. On our drive to the historic Yerevan Hotel, where
    we were to spend the night, I saw the misty mountain again. But it
    wore a veil of grey clouds and I still couldn't see my seducer.

    Our tour guide, Anna Stepanyak, told me the peaks would reveal
    themselves that afternoon. But they didn't. It was an unusually dull
    and dusty day. And thus began the game of hide and seek.

    Thankfully, we spent the hot afternoon indoors at the Matenadaran, one
    of the world's oldest repositories of ancient manuscripts. A giant
    statue of Mesrop Mashtots - the man who compiled the Armenian alphabet
    in 396 AD - greeted us at the entrance. Once inside, we ambled from
    shelf to shelf looking at the manuscripts, learning the history behind
    each - one dating back to 887AD, another written in pure gold.

    When we walked out of the Matenadaran, dusk was upon us. I thought of
    those peaks again, but now the sky bore a dull shade of grey and the
    peaks were lost in the opaque sky.

    Mother Armenia, a female warrior, overlooks all of Yerevan

    Miffed, I was still willing to give Yerevan a chance to seduce me.
    Instead, we were made to do some customary touristy things - pay our
    respects to Mother Armenia, a war museum and a reminder of the
    Nagorno-Karabakh war of 1991; visit the Cascades for an aerial view of
    the city and take pictures at Republic Square. Charming, but meh!

    My eyes instead were drawn to Armenia's cobbled streets, small taverns
    that reeked of brandy, breezy cafés, and bustling crowds. I saw young
    ladies strutting in high heels, boys eyeing them while puffing on
    cigarettes and kids running around City Square. The city was
    impressive, but I was still waiting for that something special. As I
    walked around the city, I realised that a country, so alien to me,
    still made me feel right at home - a restaurant we dined at played
    Bollywood songs just for us, everyone knows of Mithun Chakraborty, and
    on our way back, we crossed the Indian Street. It's named after a
    cinema hall that used to play old Bollywood movies exclusively.

    That night as we walked, laughed, talked and ate, I realised that I
    had developed a small crush on Armenia.

    The Relationship
    The following morning, I woke up with butterflies in my stomach. The
    previous night, the city had charmed me. And I was ready to be swept
    off my feet. That morning, as we drove south through the arid Ararat
    valley, I didn't think much of the surroundings. But a sharp turn
    sprung a surprise. Something rose from the horizon, something large
    and majestic.

    And there they were - the biblical Mount Ararat, the twin peaks where
    Noah's Ark is said to have come to rest after the Great Flood. This
    time, the mountains were free of clouds. Transfixed by their beauty, I
    pleaded with Anna to stop, but she refused. We were on a tight
    schedule and the Khor Virap monastery was our next stop.

    We stopped at the foot of a hillock on top of which sat the Khor Virap
    monastery (a collection of churches). The trek up looked daunting. But
    on Anna's insistence, I huffed and puffed to the top. At the gates of
    the monastery, I realised why she had been so insistent. To our left
    were those twin peaks, closer than I'd seen them from the ground.

    Inside the church, in the pits of which Armenia's connection to
    Christianity began, we realised Khor Virap's importance. Under the
    church is the dungeon where Gregory the Illuminator was imprisoned for
    13 years for following a heretic faith, Christianity. Apart from the
    fact that the dungeon was swarming with snakes and scorpions, he
    wasn't given a morsel of food. And yet he came out alive. It is
    believed that a woman, who loved and revered him, broke a small
    section of the wall with her bare hands and threw some food for him
    every day, keeping him alive. When he emerged out of the pit alive to
    cure the ailing king of Armenia, the king converted to his faith. He
    declared Armenia a Christian nation in 301 AD.

    The legendary 13th century Noravank monastery

    Today, people believe that if you go down the dungeon and make a wish,
    it comes true. So down we went, one by one, to make a wish. I made one
    too, for love, like that woman. Her wish came true; I'm still waiting.

    Later, as we drove to a 13th century monastery in the Noravank region,
    Anna told us numerous tales of love - how a mountain peak was named
    after a princess who dared to love a commoner and paid for it with her
    life, local songs about women waiting for their long lost loves; and
    the great architect, painter and sculptor Momik.

    Momik today is hailed by the Armenians for his fine carving of
    khachkars (Armenian cross stones) found at the Noravank monastery. But
    back then, he wasn't so lucky. He fell in love with the king's
    daughter and the king called for his head. While crafting khachkars on
    the second floor of a church, Momik was pushed to his death by the
    king's men. His grave stands on the exact spot where he fell and the
    second floor still stands incomplete.

    Later that night, we were invited for drinks at Cilicia, a replica of
    an ancient Armenian ship, nestling at Lake Sevan. The captain and his
    mates manually raised the mighty sails and welcomed us on board. As we
    drifted slowly on the deep blue waters, I realised that my wish had
    indeed come true. I was in love... with Armenia.

    The Break-Up
    The next day, in the snow-covered region of Tsaghkadzor, everything
    looked austere. Maybe because I knew that was my last day in the
    country.

    We visited the only surviving pagan temple in Armenia, Garni. One look
    at the temple from the valley makes you realise how perfect the world
    was then. The stone structure stands in the sun all day, but once a
    day in the afternoon, the sun plays so beautifully upon the stone that
    the entire structure shines.

    After a long lunch at a local villager's house, we drove back to
    Yerevan. On the road, I couldn't help noticing abandoned vintage mini
    buses along the way and people still travelling in beat-up classic
    Camaros. If you're lucky, you might find a cell phone tower or two.
    The sense of isolation may have been unsettling for others, but I
    loved the feeling. The thing about Armenia is that outside Yerevan, it
    seems to be stuck in a time warp.

    The bustling Republic Square

    We had the last evening to ourselves. I made the most of it by walking
    through the streets, shopping for souvenirs, watching a jazz concert,
    tasting brandy (never again! It's too bitter) and munching on local
    candied fruits.

    Later that night when everyone retired to their rooms, I decided to
    step out, one last time. I walked past Republic Square, sat outside
    the Opera House, walked along the boulevard - there was silence around
    me. The air was still reeking of brandy, but the bar stools were
    empty. I knew my love affair was coming to an end. This was our last
    night together. Break- ups are hard, but this was always meant to be a
    very short love story.

    (The writer's trip was sponsored by Air Arabia.)

    http://www.hindustantimes.com/brunch/brunch-stories/a-love-affair-with-armenia/article1-1195450.aspx

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