Armenia 亚美尼亚 3/2018 (9)

23/3/2018. I regretted not having stayed longer in Georgia. But I had to keep going. After two days in Georgia, I took a small public bus from Tbilisi. After five hours, I arrived at Yerevan, the capital of Armenia. There were no highways. The roads were just two lanes, one in each direction. The driver was also swinging from side to side to dodge the potholes while rounding the mountains. I had never seen so many potholes on the road, and that kept me excited for a long spell. The views were interesting enough to make the drive tolerable. Snow-capped mountains were still visible at this time of the year. The roads got better as we approached the capital.

The custom and passport control clearance was a breeze—visa on arrival, a short queue, like going into a no-man’s-land. Open arms and an open door welcomed me.

I ordered pan-fried fish and grilled vegetables as the main. It came presented to me like a piece of art. The placement of the objects in this still-life painting was masterful. Their colors matched and complimented. The plating was impeccable, with hardly a dot or drip on a bleached white plate. My senses were immediately aroused, my appetite could no longer be restrained. I dug into it with barbarity and gobbled it up with gusto. It looked and tasted European. I also ordered a side dish of finely-chopped salad and lavash bread; I felt like I was still in Asia. Armenia felt both European and Asian.

After lunch, I got my first glimpse of Republic Square in the city center. It was a square, and yet it was not exactly square but trapeze and oval. That’s how the five buildings that comprised it were laid out. It was made to not appear too official in its pinkish color, unlike many of the famous squares I have seen, like the Red Square of Moscow, Tiananmen Square of Beijing, Imam Square of Isfahan. It, in fact, blushed in the sun. Be here or be a square, if you are in Yerevan.

The first thing I immediately noticed was that cars actually stop for pedestrians! In many countries, normal civilized people transform themselves into animals as soon as they are behind the wheel.

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24/3/2018. In the heart of the city is The Cascade. As I climbed, I took off without realizing it. The steps were gentle but ascending until I looked back and realized I was on a stairway to heaven. I was on my way to better things, but I was allowed to still long for the place that had prepared me.

This colossal stairway, 572 steps, was made of limestone. But they were gentle to the knees, broad and deep enough to allow for loitering at any level, any time. A long set of escalators also led to the top, for an even easier way up. At the top awaited the Memorial of the 50th anniversary of Soviet Armenia. A magnificent panoramic view of the city of Yerevan spreads out below.

The construction of the Cascade began in 1971 and was partially completed in 1980. The second phase began in 2002 and lasted until 2009. So what is it? Is it a monument or a building? Neither, I think. It is a bridge to heaven, or at least prepare you for it.

Youths gather here for drinks, fun-loving people come here to enjoy open-air concerts, visitors congregate to tickle their taste buds, and souls come here looking for beauty, to browse the contemporary art pieces on display in the open-air surroundings and in the Cascade complex.

The more I lingered, the more I wanted to remain.

It filled me with imagination.

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24/3/2018. I came to know about this small country through the reported genocide during WW1 by the then Ottoman Empire. Today I came to visit this memorial and museum to feel the emotion of this tragedy. As I walked toward the main complex, background music playing at the square was piercingly sorrowful, as though the slaughter was still going on. I could feel the back of my eyeballs dripping with tears, my heart heavy with sadness. Just two weeks ago, before coming to Armenia, I visited the Vank Cathedral in Iran. It displayed some statistics of the genocide, including2 million Armenians massacred, and relayed the fact that only 20 or so countries recognize the genocide—mostly Western countries with the Christian tradition. International news reported that Turkey had not admitted to the genocide. Whatever the verdict, with so many suffered and so many dead, it was a great human tragedy.

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25/3/2018. The girl at the hotel front desk told me that Armenia was the first country in the world to adopt Christianity as a state religion in 301 A.D. I saw crosses everywhere, so I asked her if the people still practiced it religiously. She said not really, probably because of the many years the country was under Soviet communist rule.

Armenia was in the sphere of Russian influence. Many of the older generations speak Russian, though many young today are learning English. It was a country that seems to still carry the heavy baggage of its historical past. Whatever its conviction, it is at the crossroad, to be more European or otherwise. Today I hired a taxi driver to take me out of Yerevan to have a better appreciation of Armenia. We went hopping from monastery to monastery, place to place, to arrive at Lake Sevan before turning back. Since this country has a long history of church-going, I wanted to see deep down what touched them. Today, I visited some Armenian churches for the first time. The St. Hovhannes Church, near Yerevan, was my stop. How it stood out in its sunset color under an overcast sky. Religion can be serious, not depressing. Maybe that’s the point they are conveying.

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25/3/2018. The driver surprised me by taking me to the Tsaghkadzor ski resort not far from Yerevan. He probably thought I had never seen snow in my life, coming from a tropical country. This ski field was still blanketed with snow in the main field, but the season was about over, revealing some bare surfaces. Many snow-capped mountains nearby and afar were still visible. After the cold blast climbing the hills, my nose dripped like a tap, making me look like a red-nosed monkey.

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25/3/2018. Along the way, I poked my nose into some monasteries. The exteriors were not as glamorous as the big mosques I had visited. The interiors were drawings of saints and beings of significance, shrouded in holiness, to elicit reverence from visitors—in contrast to the elaborate and intricate designs in some places of worship—as if to say, religion does not need a showy display. All good, if they inspire godliness and goodness.

Finally, we arrived at our last stop: Lake Savan. Next to it stood a prominent hill with a monastery on top. I climbed it with youthful vigor, but the strongest wind I have ever experienced confronted me. I saw some Caucasians monkeying around, standing at the precipice of the wall to capture their heroics in the blustery wind. They were almost airborne! I didn’t know what had gotten into them or what their mothers had fed them growing up.

In the strong wind, an Iranian and I chatted. He said he is not a fervent believer in his religion, thinking that it had been forced on them by outsiders. I looked at his companion; she wasn’t wearing the normal attire, either. It was curious for me to hear it and also to see them visiting the monastery. In my recent travels through Iran, I found Iranians, especially the young ones, had their own opinions and liked to share them. I just listened. I made no judgment. You see, I developed a warm feeling for the Iranians after Iran. I have a dream; so have they.

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26/3/2018. It was time for me to unwind a little after the frantic past few days, In the evening, I went in search of my one big love: loud, loud music. Then, like a dirty rat hypnotized by the sound of the magic flute of Pied Piper the rat catcher, I was led into a little restaurant pub. After their many ravages in life, it gave me great joy to see the Armenians having fun. They will not be denied.

Ready? Now turn your volume up to the maximum. You will be reminded this could damage your hearing, but you should ignore it. Indulge yourself this one time. Let this well-arranged noise blast you into the stratosphere of ecstasy. Let it ostracize your life’s many worries. The drums taunt each other, the little trumpet breaks out to find its own voice, surfing the sound waves with clarity and dexterity. This is, after all, what life is all about.

27/3/2018. I looked at a map to see who was next door. Azerbaijan looked neighborly. So I popped into a tour agency in the city center to enquire the best way to get there, and if they could help. The lady stared at me unbelievably, as if to say, “Are you kidding me?” She explained they have been at each other’s throats for years. Religion, ethnicity, and politics continued to come between them. For, indeed, you cannot forgive what you cannot forget, and what you cannot forget, you cannot forgive. Sorry for my insensitivity. I guess that is it. My fun would end here in Armenia.

The girls here seemed slightly shorter than their European counterparts. The men looked tough with their crewcut hair and stubby facial hair, but they were such friendly and peaceable people.

Seen through today’s eyes, Armenia‘s past seemed colored with gray melancholy. Nevertheless, their history will become history, their future will be their future.

This trip through Iran, Georgia, and Armenia was of unimaginable contrasts. I saw no beggars on Iranian streets, but I saw many in Georgia and Armenia. Alcohol was officially outlawed in Iran, but free-flowing in Georgia and Armenia. In fact, on the top deck of an open-top city tour bus, a group of Russian ladies was already passing around their bottle of vodka early in the morning. It bypassed me, which was a shame, because I really could do with a bit of mouthwash. Iran was more black and white, but Georgia and Armenia were flashier. Despite the differences, I saw many Iranians coming to these countries to chill and mingle. Why should these differences make any difference, right?

Today I lie on the beach chair at my apartment looking at the swimming pool. I can’t stop thinking about the 12 days of dehydrated land from Tehran down to Yazd. We have so much water from heaven that we have a surplus for frolicking. I look at the array of colors of my salad, thinking about the basic cucumber and tomatoes of Iran. That doesn’t sound fair, this inequity. Do you know Malaysia has consistently been voted one of the top 10 retirement countries in the world, and definitely one of the tops in Asia? I should count my blessings.

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