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Silk Road of Armenia

After a delicious breakfast, we thank Gayane for their hospitality, and leave Kajaran, walking our way out of the town under rain. We get stuck for about an hour on the outskirts of Kajaran. The weather is cold. The petrol trucks from Iran pass by honking their way up and down the Kajaran mountain pass. We play guitar and sing songs. This is the final day of our hitchhiking trip along the Silk Road of Armenia. At last, a retired policeman

We wake up with the first rings of the church bells of Tatev monastery. The night spent at the oil press of the monastery was rather warm, and even though the camp-bed was short and my feet couldn’t fit normally, my sleep was good. We pack and leave the building. Nothing has changed from last evening. It’s still raining and there is fog all around. Since Father Mikael and Harutyun are busy with the morning service, we walk to the

The inner yard of Tatev monastery looks abandoned when arrive here at the end of the sixth day of our hitchhiking journey along the Silk Road of Armenia. On our right is a water spring. We drink some fresh water, and leave our backpacks here to wander around. At the other end of the monastery we notice a dim yellow light in the fog. Hoping to find someone there, we cross the yard, and behind the window glass we see

Despite all the noise made by the machines at the TV station, I sleep well, and wake up around 7 AM just as Azat comes out of his room to start his new day at work. We drink coffee, then walk around the station. Nairi arrives at 9:30 AM. He cancels our plans for the morning, telling that he has to stay at the station because of some unexpected problems that need to be fixed. “But don’t worry, Azat will

Located at the northern end of the Geghama mountains on the shore of Lake Sevan, the village of Lchashen hosts one of the most important archeological sites in Armenia. The history of the ancient settlement of Lchashen dates back to the 3rd millennium BC. The historical artifacts were uncovered by archeologists in 1956 when the water level of Sevan decreased. We arrive in the village early in the morning on a white Lada Niva that picked us up soon after we

Sasha appears in the kitchen exactly at 8 o’clock in the morning. He puts the teapot on fire. “We will have breakfast together, then you are free to go wherever you wish,” he says and walks out. Emée comes down to the kitchen not long after. She says she was cold during the night. The breakfast is rich – potato soup, honey, jams, cheese, bread. Before we leave, Tania gives us a big piece of cheese for the road. We

The main street in the village of Fioletovo is empty when we arrive there in search of a shelter for the night, slowly walking down the muddy path that leads from the main road to the village. Houses are located on both sides of the street, in front of the gates to each household a cabbage is placed on top of an electricity meter box. Russian Molokans, who make the overwhelming majority of the village’s population, are well-known in Armenia

We greet the third day of our hitchhiking trip along the Silk Road of Armenia in our sleeping bags, laying on a dusty bed in an abandoned house in the village of Kobayr. It's 8 o’clock in the morning. The night was rather cold, and we are lazy to leave our warm sleeping bags, so we spend half an hour singing songs. Packing doesn’t take long and we decide to explore the house before leaving it. What we find is

As we left the Akhtala monastery and walked back to the main road, a driver named Robert offered us a lift on an old green Soviet “Lada” for a few kilometers and dropped us off on the highway. Our next stop along Armenia's Silk Road was village of Haghpat to visit its famous 10th-century monastery of the same name, a UNESCO World Heritage site. A short ride took us to the Haghpat intersection, where we sat under a tall tree

It was 7:30 in the morning when I opened my eyes. The room was dark. My consciousness tried to identify the place I was at. The alcohol consumed during the last night's dinner at Mher’s house, whose family offered as a shelter for the first night of our hitchhiking trip along the Silk Road of Armenia, had its negative impact. I slowly regained my memory; we were in the village of Berdavan. By 8:00 AM everyone was up. Mher’s older