Armenia II: The hike

My first stop after Yerevan is lake Sevan. THE lake in Armenia and mentioning it will be met with enthusiasm by the Armenians. The first thing to do there, I realise on arrival, is a visit to the monastery (9th century) on the hill, which gives a beautiful view over the lake. Armenia's main tourist attractions seem to be monasteries set in high and therefore scenic locations. 
Sevan feels like a somewhat run down seaside resort, except it is still very much a popular place. I walk for a while, as part of the lake I am is used for various motored water sports. Unfortunately both the temperature in and out of the water is too low for me to muster the will to actually swim. So off to Dilijan, which is referred to as 'Armenian Switzerland'- I go there for its nature. 

I accidentally hitchhike there, as I am just standing on the side of the road to wait for a mashrutka that certainly would show up at some point, when a truck stops and offers me a lift. Two friendly guys drop me off where I need to be. Or at least...It is a little confusing, as there is no indication to where a centre might be or any tourist information. I had randomly written down a name of a cheap hotel, so I go looking for it and find it quite quickly, where I am settled into a quiet, shabby room. There is neither much help tourist wise nor much English spoken, except for 'yes there is a lot to see, pay a taxi and he will take you there'. Other visitors seem to be lazy Armenians, who find breathing in the fresh air enough exercise. At the restaurant, I introduce myself to a young couple from New-Zealand (always funny how abroad you can just address complete strangers, as you are doing the same thing) and inquire about their plans. They have come to do some serious hiking and I ask if I can come a part of the way to do some less serious hiking. My goal is a beautiful lake (not for swimming), which would be about a four hours walk and we can go in the same direction for a bit and then at arrival I will take a taxi back. I never put my hopes up too high when it comes to couples as they might change their mind about stuff and then forget to inform me. However they do show up the next morning for breakfast, but to illustrate my point, when one of them gets bread and I ask to get some for me as well, she comes back and then casually says "sorry, I did not manage to get a third one" (as the difference between two and three is a tough one to manage, I imagine!), but then again, it is only four hours, I will not need much food anyway. 

We set off and after about an hour we part ways. I have an offline GPS route on my phone, I recognise the signs put up and I have paid attention to how they read the map, so I am confident, in spite of my lack of sense of direction. I walk for several hours, and twice lose quite some time, as the paths are overgrown and I have missed the turning and find myself in the middle of the woods, where it is very hard to get my bearings, but eventually encounter my way back to the path. I am about half an hour away from this infamous lake, when my GPS tells me I am not going in any direction, that in fact I am not even walking on a path (which I clearly am). I walk about half an hour back, to see if I missed a turning, or have not seen an indication, but the walking signs bring me back to the same (non existing, but somehow clear and broad forest path). It now starts to rain. Both the battery of my phone and the extra one I had brought with me are now empty. The rain gets worse. No wonder Noah's Ark's story is from around here...I decide to just keep following the path. The lake should be not too far. The path however goes on for a long time, much longer than half an hour. I am now soaked. The path eventually leads to an open field in the forest, which looks familiar. This means I have backtracked through a different route. This means I have walked here before and I could instead just try to find my way back, as it is clear I will not find the lake. This means that my goal is now not the lake, but getting back before dark. To my joy, I find the signs on the trees and start the walk back, which cannot take more than three hours. I find three more signs and turn where I need to turn and follow the winding paths in the thick forest. Then I come to a fork in the road. There is no sign telling me whether to go right or left. Up the hill seems sensible to me, as I know Dilijan is in a valley, so certainly after reaching the top, it is a question of going downhill. The forest opens a bit and then I feel the heavens are attacking me with little perfectly round icy balls. Hail !! When I finally make it to the top, I turn right and.... I am back in the open field I had found myself in before. 

I change my goal from getting back before dark, to getting back before it gets too late, as the darkness now starts creeping in. Somehow, before leaving, I had thrown a small bike light in my daypack, which now comes in handy, even though I discover quickly they are made to be seen on the bike, rather than to see with. All I can do is take the same route through the forest again, until the signs stop and turn right instead of left there. I do so, but it is rather steep and my knee on one leg starts to hurt and my foot on the other gives me pain. This path does not really lead anywhere, but a small stream, and I cannot walk easily here, this is not a path anymore, so I make my way back up to where the fork was. In short: the paths do not seem to lead me anywhere helpful, I am wet to the bone, have no food left, but can drink from puddles and streams, the wildest animals here are wolves, but I am pretty sure they will not come out in this weather. I reckon it will take about three days before anyone will be missing me (think I was a little optimistic there)  and I know that people who have gone missing on holiday in the last few years in the Netherlands have slipped and broken something and would only be found when it was too late. I know I will not be one of those, I am not scared, but will have to keep going. Remotely I see a light, so I decide to follow that light, even though I will now have to go across the forest, with no paths to follow. In front of me it looks like a wall of darkness and if I can just get beyond that, I will see something, however behind every wall of darkness there is another one. The light is still there, but does not seem to get closer. The walk gets steeper and steeper and I hold on to plants, trees, but a lot of the branched on the ground are so wet, they fall apart when I step on/grab them. Gravity seems to be on my side, as I barely ever fall over. When I do and land on my behind on a rock, I look at the sky and know it will be light in about two hours and decide to stay seated. I doze off many times for a few minutes at the time with vivid dreams. It has now stopped raining, but everything is wet and humid, so drying does not happen fast. When the light comes in again, I resume my climb down. I had stopped at the right point, as it is even more steep here with less to hold on to. I finally make it down, where there is a stream. I now aim for getting up on the other side, as getting to that top, being so high, would certainly give me a view and I would then know where to walk to. When I finally make it to the top, I see forest in front of me. I see forest at the back of me. I see forest on the left. I see forest on the right. No signs of civilisation. The light I saw before has disappeared (it was of a building on another mountain). This forest surely would end at some point. So I I climb another hill top. And then in the corner of my eye, I see a small, but clear path. A path is a sign of civilisation. I now make it my task to follow this path, hoping it will not just end at a waterfall or so. It does seem to do so and I am about to get annoyed, when I see I have to cross this stream and the path will continue. I now have lost track of time. I eventually reach an open area and where the mud paths are bigger. I can see jeep tracks on it, so definitely signs of civilisation. However, the question remains: which way? I just about see a sign in the distance and walk towards it. It says: "lake 7 km". I think I am OK with not seeing the lake. I now need to walk right into the opposite direction, but there are still a few choices of turns to take and still no people. I wonder if it is late afternoon, as it starts to get slightly darker. Spending another night out is probably not a great idea. 

I keep walking. I suddenly then see a human. I call after him, offering him money if he drives me back to the village. "no no I am here with friends, it is a difficult drive" and in fact there they are, sitting around a table, packing up their camping stuff. I get emotional and they immediately invite me over. Luckily two of them speak good English and I explain I have just been walking for, as it turns out 24 hours. They make me tea, give me their leftover food, take off my shoes, wash my feet and put plasters on them and give me dry socks and hang some of the clothes and shoes next to the fire. With the shoes off, I now know I cannot muster another hour of walking. Without asking me, they make a space in the car and drive me back to my hotel, where they had not even noticed that I had gone missing. I do the three things I had been thinking of the whole hike- and please note the deep thoughts I had: I take a hot shower, sleep a few hours, then get a pizza and then go back to bed with my book and continue my journey the next morning.

ARMENIA. The first few days

Armenia. There was no particular reason for me to visit this country, but also not a particular reason not to. Armenians are not known for many things, I was only able to come up with the genocide, first country to be Christian (301 A.D.) and a number of people of Armenian descent (Kasparov, Cher, Kardashians, Kevorkian (dr death), Egoyam, Aznavour..), but none of them born here….

After a very long trip, I made it to the eighth floor of a large Soviet style block; concrete, rust, nothing repainted, the hallway faintly smelly, but my host assures me from the Soviet times means 'new'. The apartment itself is very tidy and clean. People from three generations occupy the three bedrooms (but three are on holiday). The three daughters are all over 25 with a good education and a professional job but moving out happens once you are married and then often into the household of the husband’s parents. Despite of equal rights, for women, marriage is still the main goal and a big worry is still "what might the neighbours say?" when it comes to the women. So no males are hosted in this household.

I can see the outlines of Mount Ararat from the window. Not any mountain, as this is where Noah landed with his arc after the flood. Armenians consider it 'theirs', even though it is in Turkey. In fact, Armenians claim they are directly descendants of Noah; his grandson Japheth was the grandfather of Hayk (who went to Babylon and fought against Nimrod according to the mythology) and the Armenian name for Armenia is " Hayastan".

My first day in Yerevan is fully packed; genocide museum (too much reading, they can learn a few things from Holocaust museums), a visit to the Ararat factory (their famous brandy-recommended) with tasting and a three hours guided tour through the city. During the tour it becomes obvious that there is a lot of history (occupation by the Persians, Ottomans, the Soviets, introduction of Christianity etc) but not a crazy amount to see. It is a fairly modern city with little architectural aesthetical design.  

The highpoint is the fountain show at night, when the public fountains jump high and low, backlit with coloured lights and music (bit like fireworks, but calmer).

Day two is spent outside the city, where I meet my 'friends' for the day on the bus, a Russian, a Spaniard and two French. We visit a temple (a copy of a Roman one) and an Armenian church in the mountains which makes for picturesque photos.

Even though the population is small, barely 3 million (and about less than double that amount in the diaspora), they very much have their own language. It is not related to any other language and has its own alphabet. I am incapable of making out anything and stick to my learnt words, such as "hello", "thank you", "I don't eat meat"... Obviously everybody speaks Russian as a second language-not that that helps me in any way. Tourists are not an unknown phenomenon, but there does not seem any desire to rip me off (taxi drivers need a little negotiating, but give in fairly quickly), and overall I feel safe and plenty of old ladies trying to help me. Transportation happens mostly in ramshackle minivans which sit 12 (and stand a lot more in the evening). They have official routes and numbers, but this is not indicated, so you need to know. A fare costs less than a whopping 20 cents. Food has been good so far, with grandma cooking me lovely meat free meals (smoked aubergine, rice stuffed peppers) and the fruit is wonderfully sweet and juicy.

The Armenian Genocide:

I don't have the time to give a proper researched account of the Armenian Genocide, but I do think it is important to have an awareness, so in case you are interested, I copied this from a website, which reflects on what the museum represented:

https://www.history.com/topics/armenian-genocide

The Armenian people have made their home in the Caucasus region of Eurasia for some 3,000 years. For some of that time, the kingdom of Armenia was an independent entity: At the beginning of the 4th century A.D. it became the first nation in the world to make Christianity its official religion.

But for the most part, control of the region shifted from one empire to another. During the 15th century, Armenia was absorbed into the mighty Ottoman Empire.

The Ottoman rulers, like most of their subjects, were Muslim. They permitted religious minorities like the Armenians to maintain some autonomy, but they also subjected Armenians, who they viewed as “infidels,” to unequal and unjust treatment.

Christians had to pay higher taxes than Muslims, for example, and they had very few political and legal rights.

In spite of these obstacles, the Armenian community thrived under Ottoman rule. They tended to be better educated and wealthier than their Turkish neighbors, who in turn grew to resent their success.

This resentment was compounded by suspicions that the Christian Armenians would be more loyal to Christian governments (that of the Russians, for example, who shared an unstable border with Turkey) than they were to the Ottoman caliphate.

These suspicions grew more acute as the Ottoman Empire crumbled. At the end of the 19th century, the despotic Turkish Sultan Abdul Hamid II – obsessed with loyalty above all, and infuriated by the nascent Armenian campaign to win basic civil rights – declared that he would solve the “Armenian question” once and for all.

Between 1894 and 1896, this took the form of a state-sanctioned pogrom.

In response to large scale protests by Armenians, Turkish military officials, soldiers and ordinary men sacked Armenian villages and cities and massacred their citizens. Hundreds of thousands of Armenians were murdered

In 1908, a new government came to power in Turkey. A group of reformers who called themselves the “Young Turks” overthrew Sultan Abdul Hamid and established a more modern constitutional government.

At first, the Armenians were hopeful that they would have an equal place in this new state, but they soon learned that what the nationalistic Young Turks wanted most of all was to “Turkify” the empire. According to this way of thinking, non-Turks – and especially Christian non-Turks – were a grave threat to the new state.

On April 24, 1915, the Armenian genocide began. That day, the Turkish government arrested and executed several hundred Armenian intellectuals.

After that, ordinary Armenians were turned out of their homes and sent on death marches through the Mesopotamian desert without food or water.

Frequently, the marchers were stripped naked and forced to walk under the scorching sun until they dropped dead. People who stopped to rest were shot.

At the same time, the Young Turks created a “Special Organization,” which in turn organized “killing squads” or “butcher battalions” to carry out, as one officer put it, “the liquidation of the Christian elements.”

These killing squads were often made up of murderers and other ex-convicts. They drowned people in rivers, threw them off cliffs, crucified them and burned them alive. In short order, the Turkish countryside was littered with Armenian corpses.

Records show that during this “Turkification” campaign, government squads also kidnapped children, converted them to Islam and gave them to Turkish families. In some places, they raped women and forced them to join Turkish “harems” or serve as slaves. Muslim families moved into the homes of deported Armenians and seized their property.

Though reports vary, most sources agree that there were about 2 million Armenians in the Ottoman Empire at the time of the massacre. In 1922, when the genocide was over, there were just 388,000 Armenians remaining in the Ottoman empire.

After the Ottomans surrendered in 1918, the leaders of the Young Turks fled to Germany, which promised not to prosecute them for the genocide. (However, a group of Armenian nationalists devised a plan, known as Operation Nemesis, to track down and assassinate the leaders of the genocide.)

Ever since then, the Turkish government has denied that a genocide took place. The Armenians were an enemy force, they argue, and their slaughter was a necessary war measure.