From Armenia to Iran - flashback

Yerevan

Back to Yerevan, I realized that it was Sunday and obviously all the embassies would be closed. After a while and a few donuts with a cream as tasty as the huge soviet factories in which it is produced, I decided to go to Echmiadzin, not far from here, and with the most important Armenian Cathedral. Quite a touristic place, but I have nice time in the park, unless those stupid young boys taking pictures of me with their cellphones as if I were some kind of curious animal...

Cathedral of Echmiadzin

New church in Echmiadzin Fine armenian art - 16th century

I explore the ruins of a never finished soviet stylished church, and decide to hang my hamac at the third floor, in front of two huge arches, with a sight on Ararat mount (which this time was polite enough to take off his cloudy hat) and a traditional church. The full moon won't be late to appear, and all this looks pretty romantic.
Awaken by storm and strong wind, which constrains me to leave my hamac and find refuge on the floor.

Back to Yerevan, I can at last hold my passport in hands and slowly admire my beautiful visa... singing all the way.
Wandering in the relatively small capital, i find with the blessed help of my favorite bookseller who speaks polish a camera. An antic camera, whose fabrication date can be situated between daguerreotype and digital technology... It took me 20 minutes to learn those strange mechanisms, especially the focus checking : you have to check in the central area the meeting of two images. As big and heavy, but not even a reflex. A FED3, from Felix Evguenievich Derzhinsky, the creator of soviet secret Police, NKVD.

I go to Garni, seeming rather in my direction, the south, and which has the only prechristian armenian building, neighbouring a complex of churches and monasteries, half digged in caves, with inner springs. Wonderful Hogarth. Te really nice group of armenian who gave me a lift starts to make me love Armenia, in the really nonent i decided to leave it. In this strong landscapes of impracticable mountains and canyons, I listen to the beautiful armenian language for the first time. They have a cousin who lives in Syria, his grandfather was escaping the turkish genocide. I feel touched and offer him the bilingual (french-armenian) book I found in Yerevan, Sedentarity and nomadism, about Armenian exile all around the world. I had bought it after the lose of Flaubert's Salammbo in Echmiadzin, and read only two chapters, but i hope he would appreciate.

Close to Garni, rusty Armenia (soviet quality pic...)

Hoghardt, mystic Armenia

My soap, my map of Armenia, the bag of my sleeping bag, my Opinel knife.... I lost everything but my hat !

In the group I benefit from the really interesting explanations of an armenian girl, who has a perfect english. They inviteto go back to Yerevan, but I decided to sleep in Garni and to go directly from here to the iranian border. Undr the full moon, I cross the silent village, crossing two horses in liberty, listening to a piano from a house, avoiding to sleep in a graveyard to end up in an other dead. The rusty rests of a huge communist bus. good night.

Of course the only way to the border is by Yerevan, where i find a bus to Sisian,
with what I was thinking then the last view on Ararat. Hitch hiked the rest of the way to the border. An Armenian farmer, an Iranian turkish and russian speaking trucker, and the impressive Meghri pass. I was upset after so many curves and such a view to realize that I was 2500 m. high only. Passes in Afghanistan are 5000 meters high !

Hiking with armenian farmer

Hiking with iranian turkmene russophone trucker...

And picnic with his friends

Meghri Pass

I help my new iranian friend, who is married but has a mistress in Kazakhstan to hide 20 bottles of vodka under the container of his truck. He tells me it will be son the birthday of his wife... In the gas station where we are doing our black market operations works Serguei, the Ukrainian friend of all the truckers passing by. He won't last to invite me to spend the night here. It is late, I accept, which will allow me to cross the border the morning, without a counterband trucker...

Serguei speaks russian, azeri and armenian, but not ukrainian. Again, the same bad Italian porno from satellite channels. I onder if armenians call to Italy for the sexy dials it advertises... I have a meal prepared by is younger wife, and night interrupted by several truck's arrivals, Serguei opening my door to take the money from his "coffre-fort".

Serguei still asleep in the morning...

Last hike in Armenia

A bit of morning Hitch hiking, a last armenian meal and overall a last beer. The border was crossed without difficulties. I met there only gentle curiosity. I never saw such a contrast between the two sides of a border, with only a river between those. Along Armenian and Azerbaijan borders with Iran : one green and rusty side, with still soviet way of life and architecture, and vehicles ; and an ocher dry side with traditionnaldirt and flat roof architecture, Paykan an Peugeot cars, and everlasting landscapes. I have to change habits again. If I could hike along the border to Jolfa, Along Nakhitchevan, I realize that proper hitch hiking will be difficult.

No bus for Tabriz here. But a taxi with 2 or 3 other people is cheap. 130 km for five dollars.