A thousand-year-old monastery perched on a hilltop
overlooking an immense, glistening blue lake. Two equally antique monasteries
facing each other across a dramatic canyon. These kind of iconic images adorn
any materials promoting tourism in Armenia; such scenes are portrayed on every
postcard sold in the country. Armenia’s wealth of monasteries is without a
doubt the main draw to visitors. They serve as perfect focal points for
exploring the country, combining the nation’s proud history and culture with the
outstanding natural beauty of the land.
|
Sevanavank monastery |
|
Vanadzor |
Most of these fantastically-situated monasteries are
concentrated in the north of the country, particularly in the Lori region.
Unsurprisingly, it was here that we headed first. We decided to base ourselves
in Vanadzor, a town of 170,000 people, which despite being Lori’s capital
appears to receive very few tourists. We didn’t see any other foreigners at all
here, and the locals showed a great deal of interest in us (from people staring
at us in the streets, to a group of students insisting that we join them for a
drink, to shopkeepers routinely asking us where we’re from). In truth Vanadzor
has little of specific interest to tourists, except for one especially
beautiful old church on the outskirts of town, but I found the whole experience
of being there really interesting as an insight into life in a provincial
post-industrial Armenian city. Plus we had a great homestay at a lovely villa
in a suburb that felt in many ways like a village.
|
Church in Vanadzor |
However, just a short drive from Vanadzor is the Debed
Canyon, which is home to several of Armenia’s most famous monasteries. Due to
limitations of the public transport system, it seems that the only way to visit
all of the Canyon’s monasteries in one day is with a taxi tour. But not seeing
the appeal of a day spent in a car, punctuated by 10-minute photo-taking
stints, we ignored the constant offers from taxi drivers at Vanadzor bus
station and got on a marshrutka. The area around Vanadzor is dry, rocky and relatively
barren, but as we reached the Debed Canyon we were surrounded by greenery on
all sides. We alighted in Alaverdi, a mining town in the middle of the Canyon.
I found this small town really charming, with a river flowing through it, and a
lively street market. The huge, run-down but functioning copper mine next to
the town felt a little out of place in such an attractive, natural setting, but
was very impressive in its own way. Besides, I’m not going to complain about
signs of industry in a country with as fragile an economy as Armenia.
|
Alaverdi |
|
View from top of cable car |
|
Sarahart |
From Alaverdi we took a cable car up out of the Canyon to
the village of Sarahart, home to the Sanahin monastery. Surprisingly, the cable
car is not a tourist attraction but a genuine means of transport for local
people. Walking up through Sarahart’s dusty streets, with old women selling
fruit, vegetables and clothes at the roadside, and children walking home from
school, it was clear that we were in a real community. The most striking thing
was that, although Sarahart is only a small village, its centre is full of big,
ugly Soviet-era apartment blocks. The villagers were happy to give us
directions to the monastery, and seemed intrigued by our presence, which was
odd considering that Sanahin is one of Lori’s most visited tourist sights. As
we reached the monastery it became apparent why: visitors all seem to come
directly to the monastery in taxis or tour coaches, look around and then get
driven away, without actually walking through the nearby settlement. When we
decided to take the bus back to Alaverdi, the women sitting at the bus stop
were really friendly, insisting we help ourselves to their huge sack of figs;
an elderly gentleman walked up to us, saluted, and introduced himself as
“Vladimir Dmitrovich”, and proceeded to ask us all about ourselves; he also
told us with pride that his father had seen “the whole world except Australia” and
gave us some interesting information about the local area, such as that the
copper mine had once been owned by Charles de Gaule’s father.
|
Sarahart |
|
Sarahart (with monastery on top of hill in background) |
|
Women making and selling souvenirs outside Sanahin monastery |
Back in Alaverdi our plans to visit monasteries by public
transport fell apart, as we were told that we’d just missed the last marshrutka
to Haghpat monastery. With no other option we took a taxi there, which was
perhaps even more beautiful and atmospheric than Sanahin. But as you can
probably tell from my photos, my eyes (and my camera) were directed more towards
the incredible surroundings than to the buildings themselves. It's really as if the builders of mediæval Armenia had tourists in mind when they chose the locations of their religious buildings: they went out and found the most stunning spots in the land, so today visitors needn't spend years searching the mountains for fantastic views, but can just head straight to the monasteries to soak up the country's finest areas of natural beauty.
|
Haghpat monastery |
|
Old woman taking in the view from Haghpat |
|
"Old Dilijan" |
|
Small shop in suburbs Dilijan; decidedly more
authentically local than the souvenir stores in Old Dilijan |
Just east of Vanadzor, in the neighbouring region of Tavush,
is Dilijan. Dilijan is a town of 17,000 that’s supposed to be one of Armenia’s
main tourist destinations. The focal point for tourists is meant to be “Old
Dilijan”, a small pedestrianized street lined with reconstructions of mediaeval
buildings. Unfortunately “Old Dilijan”, home only to a restaurant, a café and a
few souvenir shops; it feels nothing like a historic district and entirely like
part of a theme park. The rest of the town’s small centre is quite bleak, with
little of interest to see. While walking through the town, however, a mysterious
footpath leading up a steep bank into a wooded area caught my eye. After
walking up a tiny track through the trees, and then past a small power station,
I reached an intriguing, eerily quiet, half-built suburb of Dilijan. Huge
walled mansions stood beside crumbling old cottages.; the rusting shells of
cars and buses lay unwanted in fields; dogs and livestock wandered about
aimlessly; houses that looked as though they’d be expensive when finished stood
incomplete and uninhabited, with no sign that construction was ongoing. This
district’s potential to be developed was obvious, as it was surrounded by
stunning views of the nearby hills and mountains, but for some reason
development had clearly come to a standstill, resulting in a bizarre ghost town
vibe. It turned out that exploring this area was easily the most rewarding
thing I did in Dilijan.
|
Half-finished homes dotted around the fantastic landscape just outside Dilijan |
After an hour or so driving south from Dilijan, through
lush, green, forested mountains, the road comes to a long tunnel. Upon emerging
from the tunnel the landscape is completely transformed: ahead the land is dry,
rocky and – by Caucasian standards – flat. A sign proclaims that you have now
left Tavush and entered Gegharkunik, Armenia’s largest province. The reason for
this huge expanse of flatness soon becomes apparent: Lake Sevan. As Armenia is
a landlocked state, this enormous lake (~940 km2) is especially
important for the nation, historically having served as a source of drinking
water and of hydroelectric power, and now providing the country with its only
domestic beach resorts. But more enticing to me than the beach bars and deck
chairs was Sevanavank, yet another of Armenia’s celebrated monasteries, this
one situated atop a hill on a peninsula protruding into the fantastic lake.
|
Musician near Sevanavank |
|
Sevanavank |
|
Sevanavank |