Armenia

One of the most interesting border crossings in the world has to be that of Iran and Armenia. Traversing over the river border from a declared Islamic republic to the world’s first Christian country offers a stark contrast in cultures. Almost like Superman, men and women are transformed from their long, dark vestments to skimpy Soviet garb, vodka in hand. Iran is literally shed like a skin, as they pile into the taxis that take them the mountainous 12 hour drive to Yerevan, the capital. As a final touch, the Armenian currency is the Dram.

Yerevan is the logical base for someone travelling to the main sites of Armenia. Located in the centre, it has excellent transport links and clean, cheap accommodation. Like most former Soviet cities, it is crammed with huge, monolithic stone museums, theatres and government buildings that surround cobbled squares suitable for communist rallies. With 1.2 million people inhabiting the city, it is fairly laid back and peppered with greenery, al fresco cafes. It also crawls with the obligatory NGO and diplomatic staff in cars that would cost what most Armenians would earn in a lifetime.

Lingering forlornly in the background is Mount Ararat, where Noah parked his ark, and the national symbol of Armenia. Formerly contained within its borders, the mountain is now in modern day Turkey as a result of a land grab during World War One. The ‘Young Turk’ government began a systematic genocide of the Armenian population and drove them east and abroad in fear of their lives. The new border, the river Arax, has never been open since. Turkey denies genocide, but Armenians estimate that 1.5 million perished. Relations have yet to thaw between the two countries.
Memories of the genocide clearly permeate today’s Armenia. The genocide memorial stabs into the skies over Yerevan like a thorn. Composed from a split pyramid, each side representing the east and west (the lost part) of the country‘s original area. This is flanked by 12 monolithic slabs of stone, each representing a lost Armenian province, whilst an eternal flame flickers at the heart.

Armenia is no stranger to tragedy. In 1988 it suffered an earthquake that claimed the lives of 25,000 and left half a million homeless, destroying entire towns in its wake. During the height of the Persian empire, they were also kidnapped and transported to other regions as they were renowned masons.

The heart of Christian Armenia is the small town of Echmiadzin, where in 301 the King was converted. The red cathedral is a beautiful mass of spires and domes in a walled square, lush with trees, grass and flowers. People of all ages congregate along the sides or perch on the benches to contemplate or observe the comings and goings of the church. Incense fills the inside of the cathedral, which mingles with the soft candle light and the singing of the choir to create an evocative atmosphere. Worshippers light candles in memory of loved ones or in prayer. Candles are available singly or in packs of 100 if you have been exceptionally sinful, and are placed in boxes overflowing with wax and supplication.
Geghard, another interesting church, is one of the oldest in Armenia, and is where a part of the spear that pierced Christ’s side is alleged to be housed. The public bus only travelled a part of the distance, so I had to hitch the rest of the way to the church. Putting on my most winning smile I stuck out my thumb and a minibus pulled over to let me on. I was greeted by a sea of small, eager faces - I had been recruited on a primary school excursion. None of the teachers were concerned about a disclosure, and were happy to find someone for their pupils to practise their English with. The pupils were on a history trip, and together we took in the intricate fusion of celtic and early Christian design. Highly ornamented crosses bedecked the walls, splintered by shafts of light. I spent the rest of the day bombarded with questions about who my favourite power ranger was, how many pets I had, and poignantly if I believed that the Armenian genocide happened.

Armenia has a strong history with other religions, and on the road north, there is a first century BC pagan temple. Perched on the edge of the vast Debed Canyon, Garni flouts its anachronistic classical Greek style. A former Royal summer residence, much of the original complex has been lost, but parts have been reconstructed to give an excellent impression of the original building. Held up by tall columns, which in turn are held by carvings of Atlantis, Garni still possesses parts of its original mosaics on the floor.
The Debed Canyon snakes up the northern half of Armenia to the town of Stepanovan. The last major post before leaving the country is named after the first Bolshevik in the area. Stepanovan the man was so revered that the local museum was built around where he lived, with this house as the centrepiece. I took a stroll along the top of the Canyon to a ruined fortress, flanked by two of the omnipotent stray dogs that roam the countryside. They were obviously wise to the soft tourist who would buy them tidbits from a corner shop for their companionship. Interestingly, as is common in other parts of the former USSR, puppies that will be used on farms have their ears and tails are docked. If attacked by wolves or stray dogs, these are its most vulnerable parts and could cause it to bleed to death. Dogs are guards here, as opposed to our pampered pooches.

Despite all their sufferings, the Armenians, and their dogs, are very kind, open and hospitable people trying to make their voice heard and to find their way in a post-communist world. With volatile neighbours and situated in a NATO expansionist area they need all the candles and prayers they can get.