May 11–13: Armenia part 2
On Monday, the weather is beautiful and sunny. Around noon, Inga asks if I want to go to Armenia by hitchhiking. At first, I’m not particularly motivated, but eventually I reply, “Okay, let’s go!” At 2 p.m., we set off towards the Armenian border. Along the way, we catch rides with two different vehicles, including a truck. We make it through the border controls fairly quickly. Once on the other side, we continue our hitchhiking journey, excited to see what this new adventure has in store for us.
"Cross the wall and your dream will come true"
Lyov, a young Armenian man, picks us up in his Mercedes. We explain that we want to reach Haghpat to visit the monastery and spend the night in the village. Haghpat is obviously not on his way, but he kindly offers to drive us all the way there and even shows us around. We wander through this Byzantine monastery, built in the 10th century. Nature has gradually reclaimed parts of this mystical place, giving it a timeless atmosphere. At one point, Lyov translates a sentence on his phone for us: “Climb across the church wall from left to right, and your dream will come true.” A few moments later, the three of us are scrambling along the wall, carefully searching for stable handholds and footholds while trying not to fall. I make it across on my first attempt!Now all that's left is to find out whether my dream will come true.
A Dinner at Grandma’s House
Our friend leaves us, and we find a guesthouse online. We decide to walk there. Once we arrive, Inga calls the phone number displayed on the gate, but no one answers. We wait for a while, and then an elderly woman walks past and starts speaking to us in Russian. We only understand half of what she is saying.
Trying to figure out her message, I hand her my phone so we can use voice translation. She looks at it and replies, “Chto eto?” (“What is it?”). We quickly give up on the translation attempt and simply follow her to her house.
There, another elderly woman welcomes us inside, it turns out to be her sister.
They insist that we join them in the kitchen for dinner. They have already prepared a feast, as if they had been expecting guests. Through the window, I watch the sun slowly set, casting a warm golden light across the old kitchen.
Time passes. At some point, one of the women hands us an old phone, and we finally manage to get in touch with the owner of the guesthouse. He soon arrives and joins us for a coffee at the house. Afterwards, we gather our belongings and follow him to our accommodation.
Outside, the countryside is peaceful. We can hear dogs barking in the distance and chickens clucking nearby.
I was deeply touched by the kindness and hospitality of these elderly women. They even lent me their own slippers to make me feel at home.
Dilijan & Sevan
The next morning, we write our destinations for the day on a cardboard sign: Dilijan, Sevan, and finally Yerevan, where we plan to spend the night.
From the countryside, we quickly catch our first ride, which takes us to Alaverdi. Shortly afterwards, another driver picks us up and brings us to Dilijan.
We decide to have lunch there and take some time to explore the town. Before long, the rain starts to fall. Not wanting to get soaked, we head back to the road and quickly find a driver willing to take us to Sevan. (…)
Prime Minister and Yerevan
Once we finish our visit, we head back to the highway, hoping to find a ride to Yerevan, the final stop of our Armenian adventure.
We don't have to wait long. A Mercedes pulls over, carrying three Armenian men. We exchange a few words and briefly introduce ourselves before settling in for the journey.
At some point during the drive, Inga wakes me up and points toward the front seat. The passenger is trying to show us something: the driver's badge, which reads, "Prime Minister of the Government of Armenia."
(...)
It is a completely unexpected encounter. A few hours later, the Prime Minister drops us off right in the center of Yerevan.
What started as a spontaneous hitchhiking trip had turned into one of the most surprising rides of the journey.
Tamarisi and the Mystery Poppy Field
It is the last day of our trip. Our main challenge is getting out of the capital and back onto the main roads. We manage to do it by hitchhiking the entire way, moving from one car to another without ever taking public transport.
We spend the final part of our Armenian journey with two Chinese tourists. The driver shares his passion for photography with us while I try to get some sleep. Around 3 p.m., we cross the border without much difficulty and return to Georgia.
Soon after, we resume our hitchhiking adventure. As usual, taxi drivers surround us, offering surprisingly affordable rides. But we politely decline, determined to stick to our original goal of traveling only by hitchhiking.
A few minutes later, two young Russian women living in Tbilisi stop and offer us a ride. Little did we know, it would be the last car of the trip.
Before dropping us off in Rustavi, they have one unusual request:
"We need to make a stop in Tamarisi to see a field of poppies."
The journey is long. We leave the main road and follow a series of dirt tracks. An hour later, we finally reach the famous field.
To our complete astonishment, it is empty. Not a single poppy.
The situation becomes so absurd that we cannot help but laugh. There we are, standing in the rain, staring at an empty field that we had traveled all this way to see.
Eventually, we continue on to Rustavi through a thunderstorm, grateful to be sheltered inside the car as the rain pours down outside.
It is a fittingly unexpected ending to a journey that had been full of surprises from the very beginning.
See you soon for in the depths of Georgia !
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