Trip to the South - Part I

They say Armenia is a country of microclimates, and I feel as if I saw a dozen or more on the way south. Right outside of Yerevan, the terrain is flat and barren, though maybe it looks more agricultural in the spring. Orchards and fish farms appear, then vineyards and the occasional town, and then the mountains. Sometimes they are covered with snow; then you round a bend and there's no snow, and then around another bend there is deep snow, and sometimes you are in the clouds. Sometimes there are evergreen trees on the slopes, and then no trees, and then deciduous trees. Up we went, and down, and up, and down, through two or three distinct ranges. Along the Silk Road we traveled, more or less the only road between the capital and the south; it's amazing to think of the caravans that traveled the same route through the centuries. Now the caravans are comprised of trucks with Iranian license plates. And now that I see the twisty mountain roads that they travel, I understand why everything in Armenia is so expensive. The highest pass we conquered, in deep snow, was over 2500 meters.

We stopped for coffee near the turnoff to Armenia's stone henge - where we were told that there is evidence that Armenians built England's Stonehenge. All right, if you say so. There was no time to explore, nor would we have seen much given the snow - this trip convinced me that there's little point in doing any pleasure trips before the spring, and that spring will come to Yerevan way before it comes to much of the rest of the country. There are still several museums in Yerevan to see, and several emails to respond to, and things to read and write - not to mention lots of work! - so I have plenty to do.

We were in a big, white OSCE (Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe) SUV, and for some of the eight-hour drive to Meghri we talked, and sometimes I read, and sometimes we listened to the radio. There are some recordings I want to find to bring home - the duduk is the traditional flute here and it makes beautiful music (I never saw "Gladiator," but if you have, the soundtrack is duduk music); Charles Aznavour is a French-Armenian crooner who I can now recognize in just a few notes (Cher is of Armenian descent as well, but I haven't heard her here). The Russo-pop can be fun too.

The south is just about the only part of the country where you can't make it there and back to Yerevan in one day. Is the western part of Maryland like that? You do go through mountains to get there.... I guess the Eastern Shore is hard to get to though, so the analogy goes only so far. We arrived in Meghri and had a few minutes to admire the mountains in the background before our meeting started. I was once told that the mountains make up for the sea; I am not sure I agree with that, but I did enjoy my two years in the Middle Atlas. And the PCVs whose sites are this far south in Armenia are indeed surrounded by beauty.

And they are close to Iran. I upset friends and family when I posted on Facebook that I was headed for the Iranian border. No intention or attempt to cross or hike, and no time anyway! Because the PCV in Meghri had been med-evac'ed to the U.S., a PCV in the border town agreed to host us overnight. We could see Iran through the fence and across the river, and - though frowned upon - I took a picture of the road sign. A fellow PCV wrote to me privately that he enjoyed seeing the comments telling me that it was dangerous to be that close to Iran, when in fact the real danger was from the road conditions. The OSCE program chair told me that she was advised not to schedule any meetings in the winter, but she felt that if she didn't, it would give the NGOs an excuse not to do anything all winter. Maybe it is just as well she told me this on the way back, after we had crossed through the snow and clouds and fog.