"Go to the top floor" - a crackling voice said via the intercom. "Is there an elevator?" - I asked after surveying the very distant top floor from where I stood on the street.
"No sorry, it'll be good for your legs" - the voice laughed and then the door opened.
I entered a dark but cool hall and began my climb to Anahit's guesthouse cum hostel on the 5th floor of a big residential building in the center of Yerevan. It was only minutes before that I had called in a flux of near-panic after encountering a couchsuring host that I was no way going to stay with for 4 nights and having decided that I should immediately try and ring all hostels that were listed in the Lonely Planet to escape this uncomfortable situation. I had just arrived in Armenia after a pretty tedious journey in the back of a Mercedes station wagon during which I was wedged between an Armenian lady and a mother and her screaming child for 5 hours and for some reason I was in absolutely no mood to stay with a weird and obnoxious Spanish guy who lived in some outer suburb of Yerevan.
Luckily I managed to make up a lame excuse about doing some day trip to the mountains the next day and really wanting to be in the center of town tonight and luckily I managed to find a cheap bed not far from where we were sitting at Gusto restaurant on Abovyan Poghots.
I reached the top of the stairs all huffing and puffing and was greated by Anahit who has been hosting backpackers for donkey's years and was more than happy to welcome me into her home on this humid Saturday afternoon.
I dropped my bag, took off my shoes and fell into her couch. She offered me a glass of water and explained where everything was. A little dog that looked like a mop with patches of hair missing sniffed at my toes while I surveyed the bed I was going to occupy this night.
"Well this ain't all too bad" - I thought. I grabbed some clean clothes and jumped in the shower. While I was lathering up I wondered why there was a strange cool breeze coming in and almost fell over backwards when I realized that there was a window into the kitchen just above my head. It was kinda weird but hey, at least you could say how you wanted your eggs for breakfast while washing your balls. Very practical.
Later I ventured out to explore the last capital city that I would visit on this trip and to figure out whether it really was worth spending 4 days here or whether I should do day trips to near by places.

Yerevan is not considered the most attractive of captials in the Caucasus, something I immediately noticed while still being trapped in the car from Tbilisi. We passed some of the ugliest communist blocks on the way to the center and I immediately noticed the lack of greenery and resemblance to a more dusty Middle Eastern city like Damascus rahter than a city surrounded by lush mountains. Once in the center which is shaped like an octagon things started looking a bit friendlier.
My first stop was the Segafredo cafe to refuel on haha yea a latte. I was so tired from the long drive that I just need to chill for a moment. I got out my guide book and tried to figure out what I was going to do this afternoon. I decided to wander down the obscurely modern Hyusisayin Poghota that consisted of a bunch of newly built buildings that all seemed to be completely deserted. Anahit told me later when I returned that those buildings had a negativa aura, which is why no one had moved into them.
In the middle was a strange square that had 5 streets leading into it and only one crossing for pedestrians. Luckily there were a lot of people meandering around so I took the risk and crossed. The street ended on Abovyan Poghots near Republic Square that hosts the singing fountains. It was still too early to watch this kitschy spectacle although I was told it was quite something. The buildings surrounding me formed a large circle that consisted of various ministries, the local Marriott hotel and a museum and everywhere there were people sitting, walking, talking, kissing or staring. It was quite hilarious for although I was already quite used to being stared at for being a tourist it still struck me as annoying every now and again. Just like the smoke of my cigarette that I placed in my ashtray as I am writing this and that is going straight into my nose. Bleh.
The good thing about Yerevan was that it had a simple grid style center that was limited by an outer ring road so essentially it was very hard to get lost (not that that ever happened to me haha)
I wandered the streets for a good while before settling in the Artbridge bookstore for a little early evening beer. This little place sold 2nd hand English language books (amongst a variety of other things) and since I had just finished reading my last book I decided to buy the Jungle Book. Everyone knows the Disney film but who has actually read the original by Kipling? Well I hadn't.

Yerevanites apparently love sitting in outdoor cafes which reminded me a lot of the cafe culture in Bucharest except that here they were all concentrated around a round park that was located at the Southern half of the Opera Square. I noticed as I passed highlights such as the "Grammy Cafe" and "Sphinx" (all designed in the according theme) that there were mostly groups of Armenian guys sitting around the tables and I also noticed that a lot of them were hideously fat. This was something that struck me as very strange considering I had hardly seen any fat people in any of the other countries.
Later I returned to Anahit's flat to find my bed all made a ready for me to dive into. It was a clear night and from the window I could see the stars shine over Yerevan. A nice thought to send me off to sleep.
The next morning Anahit made me a lovely breakfast consisting of omelette and bread and she told me a bit more about what I could do to keep me busy today. She mentioned a large market that was not far from her house that was a treasure trove for anything Soviet, Armenia and all other kitsch one could possibly think of. During my short conversation with the crazy Spanish guy the day before I heard that some lady even sold all sorts of dental care products but the joke was they were all rusty and used.
"Excellent!" - I thought. I could do with a spare set of fake teeth.

I wandered down towards Republic Square and towards the Vernissage Market. The market stretched as far as the eye could see although not all stalls were already finished, some traders were still aligning necklaces in particular orders that looked very complicated and other ladies were unpacking their china one by one. Everyone was very friendly and not at all brash. A perfect Sunday morning affair!
I did a couple of rounds admiring the Armenian carpets, antiquated porcelain, wooden figurines of Armenian girls in traditional garb and finally I found the stall with all the rusty dental care products. I could not believe my eyes. The instruments seemed so delicate with oxidation that I was afraid they might pulverize in my hand. Eventually I decided to get myself a nice ex-Armenian communist general's hat that would most definitely find a good use during one of my many dress up parties in the coming months.
Later, I found myself returning to my guesthouse after having placed a quick call to Nina's B&B in Dilijan (the communication was a bit difficult due to lack of English at the other end) and packing a small daybag for a short trip into the mountains. Dilijan is billed as the "Switzerland of Armenia", which I already suspected to be quite a stretch but none the less I was ready for some mountain action.
I walked North on Teryan Phogots and towards the Marshrutka stand that Anahit has pointed out to me. When I arrived there were a couple of minibuses waiting (one even had loaded a whole washing machine) and despite my limited Armenian reading skills I found the one I was meant to take. Unfortunately it was not for another hour that we would finally depart and throughout all this time I stood kicking stones around or trying to distract myself from the curious stares by playing Worms or Solitaire on my iphone/ipod. Urgh, I hate waiting around for a minibus to fill up.
Eventually the moment had come and we departed North on a steep motorway that made the minibus seem more like a snail than a motorize vehicle. As we crawled uphill the city and its surroundings came into view and revealed a stunning scenery consisting of snowcapped mountains and golden wheat fields as far as the eye could see.
After about one hour we reached the vicinity of Lake Sevan, the turquoise beauty that formed an integral part of Armenia's summer culture and whose colour seemed so unreal that one could have suspected the Soviets to have fooled around with it to make it shine like this.
We passed the lake and continued our climb into the mountains of Armenia. They had recently completed a new tunnel between Sevan and Dilijan, which not only cut my travel time down quite significantly but was also funded by multi-billionaire Kirk Kerkorian who happens to be one of Armenia's many diaspora citizens (like Cher and Andre Agassi) who are giving their homeland a helping hand.
Once we had come out of the tunnel all I could see were rich green forests dotted with little huts and the occasional church here and there. We started climbing back down the serpentine road that lead straight into the heart of Dilijan.
A couple of minutes later we were there. I jumped out of the van and looked around me with slight disorientation. A taxi driver quickly approached me and wanted to know if I needed anything. "Yes, some directions please. How the hell do I get here?" - I asked pointing at the rubbish map in the LP. "Oh up up up" - he said pointing his crooked finger at the little road that went back up.
I began climbing the small town road, which I hoped would lead me to the center (and eventually to Nina's B&B) and I passed several small buildings that looked like they hadn't been touched in years before reaching the row of houses I had seen in a photo and that had I am afraid to say significantly contributed towards me deciding to go here.

I walked up to the row of neat gingerbread like houses and immediately spotted a small Artbridge bookstore. I went inside to ask the girl for directions to my B&B but she didn't know it. How most peculiar! Did it not exist after all? Wouldn't surprise me!
I walked around the back to find a row of cute craftmanship stores and the Artbridge bookstore cafe where I sat down for a cup of coffee and what was sold to me as a "special salad from Dilijan". What I got looks more like boiled beetroot with walnuts but it actually tasted really nice. I wouldn't for the life of me be able to tell you what it was.
It was surprisingly cold up here and as I sat gazing across the town center towards the mountains it struck me how it seemed that the clouds were literally pouring out of the trees. It was a mesmerising sight.

Later I ventured back the way I came and took a left turn at the small market taking me straight up to Nina's B&B. As I walked down the drive-way I was greeted by a whole family who had been waiting for my arrival (incl. grand ma, daughter, grand daughter the whole shabang). I greeted Nina and she showed me my room, which was very decent indeed.
The whole top floor of the house seemed to be dedicated to guests and tonight I had it to myself.
Nina offered me a cup of steaming hot coffee and showed me the downstairs part of the house, which even by Amsterdam standards was dangerously leaning to one side. When I sat down I was actually sitting in a 10 degree incline or so it felt. Nina later offered me dinner for which I paid a little extra but boy what a dinner it was.
5 side dishes consisting of delicious meat wrapped in wine leaves, salads of all kinds, a whole load of bread, a soup, and more things I can't even remember now. What was a bit awkward though was that her husband who spoke no word of English at all came and sat by my table and watched me eat. I find it really irritating when people do that because I don't know what they're thinking. He later came back with a small jar of home made vodka that he encouraged me to drink. I filled my little shotglass and toasted with him to god or something and took a sip. FFUUUUUUCKCKCCKCKKCCK this vodka was so strong I felt it igniting and running down my throat in a fiery stream of fire and flames. My eyes filled with tears and I surpressed a cough. Her husband took the whole shot in one go and refilled his cup immediately. How can you possibly excuse yourself from a situation like this?
After I finished my dinner I ventured outside and went for a little digestion/get away from the vodka walk and took in the stunning surroundings. I noticed that mountains are something I really miss in Amsterdam. Things are so flat they're even below sealevel. I think my house might only just escape the sea should it decide to flood The Netherlands because I live on the 1st floor. No probably not actually.

The night came quickly and brutally. I had just managed to get back to the house from my little wander when the sky opened up and thunder and lightning filled the air. I sat on my little porch and hoped that the weather would be better tomorrow when I wanted to go visit two of the most amazing monasteries in Armenia.
When I awoke the next morning I took an icecold shower and ventured down to have breakfast. Nina had already set the table for me and I was quickly served cheese, sausage, bread and all sorts of other Armenian delicacies that I had never seen before. To be honest I was a bit careful not wanting to run around the monasteries shouting "WHERE IS THE TOILET I AM BURSTING"...
The day was beautiful and I had a good feeling about this. I walked down the main road towards the town center to get some money changed and find a reliable driver who could take me to Haghartsin and Goshavank in a short daytrip. The first guy I asked agreed to a good price and we set off in his antiquated Volga saloon. Haghartsin and Goshavank are some of the most famous and ancient monasteries in Armenia and their isolated location make them a nice spot for letting your soul hang. We took a left turn only a couple of kilometres outside of Dilijan and began climbing a steep road that eventually opened up to the small spot where Haghartsin was located. The setting was breath taking only the fact that the whole building was wrapped in scaffolding was not so breath taking. I got out of the car and almost fell into a ditch while trying to survey if there was any point in being here at all.

One small church was open so I went inside and took in the damp smell of history.
Outside there was a "holy tree" whose stem opened up at the bottom and where worshippers had left coins and other donations.
I got back into my shaky Volga and the driver took me back along the road we came from but jumped out at a little church and told me to follow him. I walked along a rocky path and suddenly an old USSR viewing platform came into view. He jumped onto it and I followed walking all the way to the front to get a view of the beautiful mountains (I'm not mountained out quite yet)...
Later before we headed to the second stop we halted at a petrol station to fill up the tank and I shit you not it took a good 20 minutes to fill the tank. Not because it was so big but because of the bizarre way it was done. The petrol station dude put a tube into the boot and then turned on a very slow pump. All the while I was watching two mother pigs with their piglets rummaging around in the mud next to me. It was kinda cute.

When could finally get back in the car the inside stank so badly of petrol that I was scared that if the driver lit up a cigarette the whole vehicle would explode like fireworks. I was shifting left and right on my behind all the to Goshavank feeling real uncomfortable.
When Goshavank finally came into view on my right things were looking very different to Haghartsin only a couple of minutes ago. There were actually real people around and little tourist stalls and taxis and and and... I walked up the small hill to the front of the monastery and rejoiced in its beauty.

Luckily I was one of the only visitors today, which allowed me to wander around the grounds undisturbed. I entered the main chapel to find a dark chamber that received its little light through a tiny window on the side and right in front of me on what remained of the altar lay an Armenian bible. Next to it was a small candle. I was thinking "Hello? Fire hazard?" but then again the whole thing was made of thick stone, which probably also explained how it survived since 1188.

Later I got back in the cab and we drove back to Dilijan so I could catch a marshrutka back to Yerevan. Contrary to what I had heard they only left every 2 hours so I was forced to hang around the derelict bus station for a good 90 minutes. Previously, my driver had tried to squeeze some extra cash out of me by claiming he had to pay a parking fee at the first monastery (ehm to whom?) but my traveler's wit immediately helped me uncover a scam in the making, Sherlock Holmes style.
When we finally returned to Yerevan 3 hours later I decided to visit the NPAK (Norarar Pordzarakan Arvesti Kentovon = Armenian Center for Experimental Art), which was housed in a strange complex next to the Vernissage market. I was the only visitor today but the art that was on display was utmost peculiar. Ranging from paintings proclaiming: WE DON'T NEED YOUR CURRENCY! (and show casing dollars and roubles) to strange installations of people rolling around on the floor. I actually really enjoyed this place as it showed a very quirky side of Armenia and a creative aspect that one does not come across much in every day life.
Later, I went to the Caucasus Tavern, a blatant "tourist restaurant" that Anahit had recommended to me for its delicious Khoravats (meat on the grill), which I stupidly didn't order. Instead I got a limp lamb kebab that was icecold and an enormous Armenian pizza with cheese. Good thing I ordered plenty of beer otherwise I might have gone hungry.
At night, when everyone was back on the streets and phat beamers were racing tattered Ladas I embarked on a quest to find the only Irish pub in town. The "Shamrock" was meant to be a nice meeting place for expats and backpackers but after finally finding this underground tavern I quickly turned on my heels upon seeing a bunch of drunken locals dancing around on the lonesome dancefloor. On my way back to the apartment I passed one of the many local cafes where a tarted up fake blonde was sitting with her boyfriend wearing the most enormous sunglasses I had ever seen. Mind you this was around 10pm and it was not bright. I burst out laughing and she blatantly caught me. So what? She was the douche after all.
The next morning I awoke to find Anahit sitting on her sofa (she slept in a different bed every night, which sometimes made it hard to find her) and I told her of my great plan to visit Zvartnots Cathedral and Echmiadzin (the Vatican of Armenia). She said that if I was lucky I was able to spot Mt. Ararat today. From her top floor apartment one had a pretty good view of the city and when she pulled the curtains aside I saw her hands rush to her heart and her exclaiming: "Oh yes, there it is... Ah it's so beautiful". I went to stand next to her and wow. It was fucking beautiful.

I took my leave and began walking to the "Cascade"(more on this later) to get a better view. It was still early in the morning and the clouds had not yet arrived to cover the most stunning of all monuments this country had to offer. Ironically, and Armenian's are still pissed off about this, Ararat is now in Turkey (Lenin once gave Western Armenia to Turkey as a present hoping it would also have a revolution. Too bad it didn't happen and since then the border between Turkey and Armenia has been sealed shut).
None the less Ararat still features very predominantly in Armenian life and from where I stood now one could totally see why.
I went back to ground zero and walked across town the marshrutka that would wizz me along the highway to Echmiadzin. When you leave Yerevan towards the airport you pass a dozen casinos that have created a bit of a tacky copy of "the strip" along the highway. Everything from Paris to Kheops was present. I chuckled as we drove past.
When I arrived in Echmiadzin I got off and walked straight into the holy grounds of the Armenian Holy See. Just as I was passing the gate I saw a Japanese tourist looking around for something and I didn't think much of it except: "Everywhere you go, you meet at least one Brit, one Yank, one Japanese person and one German". In this case I was the latter.
All the while Ararat watched over me like a giant father. It was a calming experience.
I walked around the grounds of Echmiadzin and eventually pretended to be taking photos while I sort of joined a guided tour who's leader was explaining something about the various statues. Eventually she went silent and looked at me. "Erm, oh no speak Inglish" I stammered and turned on my heels.
I entered the stunning Mayr Tachar cathedral whose door was so richly decorated I would have taken a bite out of it had it been made from chocolate.

Everywhere I looked I saw priests reading the bible or watching the tourists to ensure no one had the crazy idea to climb the church tower or similar. It was a very hot day actually but the blue skies were so pure I was already dreading what would await me in Amsterdam tomorrow.

After paying a short visit to the museum shop and getting some more cash out I went back to the main round about and caught a cab to Zvartnots cathedral that for some reason I completely missed on the way in. It was 4km outside of Echmiadzin and offered a sight to behold. Not just for its otherworldly architecture but also for the fine setting that almost made me jizz in my pants.

As I entered I spotted the Japanese guy again and he meekly looked over and sort of greeted me although I wasn't sure if it was intentional. The cathedral itself had been standing here since 661 and was effectively more than 1.500 years old. No offense but it always makes me laugh when I hear about the rich American history of 300 years and then I come across a stunning monument that was built 5 times as long ago.
A very untypical style for this part of the world, the Cathedral's arches suggested a rich history of Roman influence, as seen in Baalbek in Lebanon or Palmyra in Syria. Not much remained of it but one could still clearly see the pool that was used to baptise adults back in the day and the outer foundations of the church.

Meanwhile the Japanese dude got out his sunbrella and was walking around the ruins of the Cathedral. I thought it was quite funny seeing his sun protection tool bopping up and down between the stone walls. When I left the museum he was quite a way in front of me back on the way to the main highway. When I arrived he was already waiting trying to flag down a marshrutka. Eventually a taxi stopped and he asked me: "Do you speak Russian?" after a short conversation with the driver. I declined and he said he's giving us a good price to go back to the center. I was a bit wary as I got in as the thick necked driver's friend didn't make a very calming impression on me. The Japansese guy got out his guide book (in Japanese) and asked him to take him to a place x. All the while I felt very uncomfortable and ha! lucky me just after we set off we got pulled over by the police and I took the opportunity to escape. I wished the dude good luck on his way to getting ripped off and boarded the next best marshrutka going to Yerevan. (Filled with school girls only. Some people would have been in paradise now)
When we got back I took a cab up to the "Permanent Representation of the Republic of Nagorno Karabakh" where I had earlier this morning left my passport to get a visa issued for this bizarre self proclaimed country that is still claimed by Azerbaijan and was the result of the main Armenia/Azerbaijan war in 1995. I figured I could add another visa to my already lovely collection of 4 from this trip. The visa is totally ugly but I found it hilarious that one needs a visa to go from one part of Armenia into another "effectively".
So I took my cab back to the top of the Cascade monument, some strange construction that stretches all the way up from ground level to a hill and that at night features a who would have thought cascade that runs all the way from top to bottom. As I approached the top I noticed a door on the side and after I entered I saw that there was a massive escalator that lead all the way to the bottom. Why walk right?

Hence I proceeded to walk all the way down the cascade to the utmost bizarre "sculpture park" that amongst others featured a fat soldier with a tiny dick.

Later I returned to my hostel to find that I was to share a room with a fat Kiwi guy tonight who was actually planning to visit Afghanistan after recently having travelled to Iraq. What a great way to finish a trip like this. Not to mention that Anahit's son was blatantly hitting on me.
The next morning I got up early to get to the airport and board my flight to Amsterdam via Riga. The rest is history.
I'd like to thank all the amazing people I met along the way for the brilliant times I had in all 7 countries that I visited during these 3 short weeks and to all my lovely friends who have been duly reading my blog. It's a great feeling to know that people are interested in my adventures and care to read about them.
More coming soon! Stay tuned. Inshallah