Diary of an Armenian Journalist (Part VI)
Day 11
I’m sitting inside a clean and thorough hotel room in Goris, feeling a little under the weather today. Must have been everything I ate last evening and the rickety, rollicking car ride over some pretty difficult terrain.
But nothing that a hot shower wouldn’t cure.
The weather as a whole in the northern plain is chilly with lots of snow on the mountains on this April 29.
We stopped somewhere near Jermoog and explored a church on a hill after a circuitous route . The drive through the mountain range to Goris and Artskah was truly spectacular and well worth the time.
Stopped for Armenian coffee along the way, then drove to Armenia’s Stonehenge off the beaten path. Joe figures it might be the ruins to an Uratuan temple dating back some 3,000 years.
The entire trip with stops took 8 hours with eye-popping views of the landscape. We never did get to Datev Monastery due to the late hour but will save that for tomorrow en route to Stepanagert.
The TV in my room has 12 stations, not one in English. Maybe that would be a distraction. One way of improving your Armenian is to hear it constantly. We each took a private room—Joe, the driver and myself—to enjoy our own space for a change. If nothing else, it’s good to unwind by yourself now and then.
Day 12
As I sit here recapping my day, it was filled with many ups and downs, highs and lows. If you think the road to the Catskills is high and bumpy, try the road to Datev Monastery. We left Goris Hotel after breakfast (hard boiled egg, lavash, 2 kinds of cheeses, olives, fruit and coffee) for $40 complete, but not after a pleasant surprise.
There staying at the same hotel were my close friends the Artinians from Montreal with their driver. They were returning from Karabagh and we were just arriving.
After dodging pits the size of moon craters, we arrived at Datev unscathed. It was everything I had envisioned in terms of majestic beauty. Nestled in the snow-capped mountains, it rivaled anything at Khor Vrap which gets more attention from the tourist crowd.
Might I also add that some of the more striking images along the way were villagers traveling by donkey in the mountain range. Civilization has not changed here in 500 years. Now I know why they call it Mountainous Karabagh. It could have very easily been the prototype for the classic film, “How Green Is My Valley.”
Our driver was extremely cooperative, stopping on a dime for every photo opportunity. Other stops were made at Shinahayr, Gndavaz, Vorotnavank and Noravan before winding up at the Shushi Hotel for dinner. The place brought back memorable moments since it was here that I had taken several photos 3 years prior.
Soorp Amenapergitch Church struck an imposing site as if beckoning our arrival. I recall meeting a beggar there who asked for some coins to buy a candle. This time it was a young child which stole my heart. How do you say no to an indigent Armenian?
Onward to Karabagh …
(to be continued)
