It all started in Chalcedon

Armenia | Anno 2017

 

Saturday, July 15 | Tbilisi

Sunday, July 16 | Tbilisi – Debed Valley – Dilijan

 

 

Saturday, July 15 | Tbilisi

What a complex affair, over there in the Caucasus. Chechnya, Ingushetia, Cherkessia, Nagorno-Karabakh, Abkhazia, South Ossetia... one by one, these names seem to symbolize endless trouble. But how things really stand there, we know little about – except that Vladimir Putin likes to have a firm hand in it.

Which means the name of his country can be spelled as Georgia, Грузия or საქართველო

And yet. Amid this turmoil, Armenia and Georgia manage to maintain a fragile form of peace and stability. Eagerly, they serve their magnificent cultural past and their fantastic natural setting to anyone who wants to enjoy it. But for us, it’s diving into the unknown

More than curious, we land at Tbilisi International Airport in Georgia. A local incarnation of Harry Potter is there waiting for us. It turns out to be Rati, our Georgian guide, 26 years old. The language of Shakespeare flows effortlessly from his mouth. Besides English, he also speaks Russian and, of course, Georgian. Not an easy feat, considering these three languages use three different alphabets. Which means the name of his country can be spelled as Georgia, Грузия or საქართველო.

Still, our stay in Georgia will be very short. In fact, we are on our way to Armenia. Only in a week will we return to Georgia to explore the country more thoroughly. Rati doesn't let it get to him and immediately dives in. Because for a Georgian, every guest – each of us – is someone sent by God. That’s quite a show of hospitality. We straighten our backs in the hope of hearing more praise about ourselves.

Georgia is home to just under four million people today. You can add another 800 000 Georgians living abroad to that number. Some have honourable intentions, particularly to send money home for their impoverished families. Others are ordinary criminals on the run. If you were part of the mafia, you’d best flee in 2004 when Mikheil Saakashvili came to power and launched his big clean up operation.

For a Georgian, every guest – each of us – is someone sent by God

The vast majority of Georgians – more than eighty percent – are members of the Georgian Orthodox Church. Quite remarkable, considering that Georgia, like Armenia, is entirely surrounded by Islamic peoples. Christian islands in a sea of Muslims, so to speak. Yet they distinguish themselves from other Christians. They commemorate their deceased on Easter Monday, celebrate Christmas on January 7th, and New Year’s on January 14th. The Georgian Orthodox Church still determines its holidays according to the Julian calendar.

Being religious doesn’t necessarily mean attending church every week. Still, you can attend a service every day, and on Sundays, even a grand service, which can last two hours. During the whole time, the congregation stands. You’ll look in vain for chairs in a Georgian church.

Georgians are quite conservative. Rati freely admits that, but they are certainly not fundamentalists. The traditional family is the norm in Georgia. Men and women each have their own, fixed roles. Gender roles are deeply ingrained. Especially in rural areas, other orientations are not tolerated.

Georgia briefly enjoyed independence in 1918, but the fledgling Soviet Union put an end to that just three years later. Until 1991, Georgia was an unwilling part of the USSR. One of Rati’s grandfathers lived from 1918 to 1993. Born and died in an independent Georgia, yet he spent nearly his entire life under Russian rule.

Unlike Armenian, Georgian is not part of the Indo-European languages. In fact, official Georgian is one of four dialects spoken by Georgians. It has been elevated to the status of a standard language.

Abkhazia and South Ossetia behave as de facto independent states

A difficult language, it seems, almost impossible to pronounce. Consonants appear to be strung together in random order. This results in monstrosities like Mtkvari, Mtskheta, or Shiomgvime. A warning is due for the unsuspecting reader: attempts to pronounce Georgian names could seriously damage your tongue. It’s no surprise that young people prefer to speak English, while the older generation often still speaks Russian.

Russia, Azerbaijan, Armenia, and Turkey. These are Georgia’s neighbours. Relations are bad only with the Russians. Very bad, to be precise. It was the Russians who tore Abkhazia and South Ossetia away from Georgia. Together, these two regions make up nearly one-fifth of Georgia’s territory, but in practice, the Georgian government no longer has any control there, and they act as de facto independent states. Once, the long coastline around Batumi on the Black Sea was for the Russians what the French Riviera was for Europeans. But nowadays, that honour falls to Sochi – yet another city the Russians took from Georgia, Rati complains.

Nowadays, Georgia even manages to export wine to Europe

With an area of 69 700 square kilometres, Georgia is nearly the size of Ireland – including Abkhazia and South Ossetia, of course. Agriculture in this country mostly relies on wheat, potatoes, grapes, cabbage, onions, and tomatoes. But wine production is also starting to thrive. Nowadays, they even manage to export wine to Europe. Georgian mineral water is also appreciated abroad, especially the famous water from Borjomi, the local version of Spa.

Gradually, we make our way into the old city centre of Tbilisi, where the mighty Mtkvari River dominates the densely populated valley. The river carves its way through the mountains, is the deeper meaning of that unpronounceable name. The Mtkvari cuts through the Borjomi Gorge in the Lesser Caucasus before finally flowing into the Caspian Sea via Azerbaijan, where it is known as the Kura.

The stately Rustaveli Avenue – the Champs-Élysées of Tbilisi – leads us to our final destination. It’s almost half past five when our driver, Vano, drops us off at the hotel. Our first concern now is to get some local currency. That turns out to be the lari. The lari is divided into 100 tetri. At the exchange office, one euro turns out to be worth 2,72 lari.

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Sunday, July 16 | Tbilisi – Debed Valley – Dilijan

Straight southward we head today, all the way to the border town of Sadakhlo, a journey of about eighty kilometres. Our Armenian guides will be waiting for us there. It's sunny and warm, and the calm Sunday traffic presents no obstacles. The asphalt road looks fairly comfortable, with some careless patchwork here and there and the occasional irritating speed bump.

The trip will take only an hour and fifteen minutes, but that won’t stop Rati from enthusiastically telling us about the ups and downs in Georgia. Though he was only born in 1991, he still experienced the harsh times of the past. Back then, electricity and water were luxury items that you could enjoy for just a few hours a day at most. The roads were terrible, and unemployment and poverty were rampant.

Then came the Rose Revolution. Weeks of street protests against election fraud forced President Eduard Shevardnadze to resign in November 2003. New elections brought Mikheil Saakashvili to power.

In the past 25 years, Georgia has endured four wars, three of which were in separatist regions

And lo and behold, it suddenly became possible to supply water and electricity without interruptions, much to the astonishment of the people. A normal life seemed to be within reach. The road network also improved significantly – something we still benefit from today, Rati adds. Though we nod in agreement, we caution not to exaggerate that point.

Saakashvili introduced a zero-tolerance policy on crime, which made the streets safe again. According to some sources, this even led to a draconian justice system, where being accused was almost equivalent to being found guilty.

Pensions were also increased. Where previously this was an unimaginably low seven lari per month, it is now a slightly less meagre one hundred and eighty lari. It’s no surprise, then, that many people continue working even after retirement.

However, in the 2013 elections, Saakashvili was defeated. He moved to Ukraine, where he became the governor of Odessa, a port city on the Black Sea. The response from Georgia was swift – his Georgian citizenship was revoked. After a year and a half, he resigned from his post in Ukraine. His explanation was that fighting corruption was a lost cause, as even the Ukrainian president was involved.

His wife, Sandra Roelofs, of Dutch descent, still lives in Georgia. She speaks two of the four Georgian dialects fluently, which has earned her quite a bit of goodwill among the population.

In the past 25 years, Georgia has endured four wars, three of which were in separatist regions. Russian politicians were behind each one, Rati fumes.

Take South Ossetia, for instance. Just by using that name, you're distorting the truth and taking a side. Ossetians are found only on the northern side of the Caucasus. Their features are not Caucasian but Mongolian. South of the Caucasus, you’ll only find people with Caucasian features – true Georgians, in other words. Conclusion: the so-called South Ossetia is fully Georgian.

But the Soviets had a different point of view. In 1984, they drilled a tunnel straight through the Greater Caucasus. This 3,7 km-long Roki Tunnel connected Russian North Ossetia with the so-called South Ossetia and would play a decisive role in the five-day war of 2008.

Small decorations on the front doors of some houses indicate that behind this door a marriageable daughter is available

Meanwhile, we've reached the wide valley of the Debed River. Here and there, small decorations are placed on the front doors of houses. A signal is that for singles with interest – behind this door is a marriageable daughter available. Interested parties are welcome to knock, take a look, and inspect the goods.

Heroic, on the other hand, is the large sculpture of a woman with two children by the roadside. They gaze tensely at the horizon, as if a better future is on the way. This is how they will move forward, reads the caption, implying that they should follow in the footsteps of their husband and father, who died in battle.

As for Georgia, its future lies in Europe – much to Vladimir Putin's dismay, of course. This is evident from the many European Union flags fluttering merrily alongside Georgian ones. Recently, Georgia even scored a diplomatic success. As of this year, the European Union is accessible to Georgians without a visa. As long as it's against Russia, it's good, Rati sums up the prevailing perception.

At exactly ten o’clock, the Sadakhlo border post comes into view, meaning it's time to bid farewell to Rati. The wait for an exit visa is surprisingly short, and before we know it, we're back on the bus. Our driver, Nukri, takes us across the Debed River, which here forms the border between Georgia and Armenia, through no man's land. A little over a kilometre further, he drops us off with our luggage at the Armenian border post and heads back.

Getting the Armenian stamp in our passports is also a quick process. Shortly after, we are greeted by a beaming Siranush Piloyan, our Armenian guide. But she finds her name too difficult for us, encouraging us to call her Sira. Clearly, we don't come across as too sharp, so there's work to be done.

Exchanging money turns out to be more complicated, but twenty minutes later, we find ourselves richer by a bundle of drams. One euro appears to be worth 537 dram.

In the meantime, Sira confides that she is 26, has completed linguistic and legal studies, and has seven years of experience as a guide. That sounds like a fast-paced academic career to us. In the parking lot, driver Valera is waiting for us with his Mercedes minibus. According to Sira, he’s one of the best drivers in Armenia.

 

Debed Valley

As we continue our journey upstream along the Debed River, Sira offers us an introduction to Armenia for beginners. The country has no coastline, but it does have four neighbours – Georgia, Iran, Azerbaijan and Turkey. Relations with the northern and southern neighbours are smooth, as Armenia enjoys fairly good ties with both Georgia and Iran.

In contrast, to the east and west, it’s hard to even speak of relations. Armenia is virtually at war with Azerbaijan and Turkey, which is all tied to Nagorno-Karabakh, the region that Armenia wrested from Azerbaijan in 1994. As a loyal ally of Azerbaijan, Turkey is also quite upset about this. Additionally, both countries are Muslim, while Armenia is Christian, and Azerbaijani is very similar to Turkish. The result of all this is that Armenia is essentially accessible only via Georgia, as is the case for us.

Hayastan, that's what Armenians call their country, named after Hayk, the legendary founder of Armenia. Hayk was a great-great-grandson of Noah, the Biblical figure who saw his ark stranded on a high mountain after the flood. No Armenian doubts that this mountain was Ararat. For Armenians, this dormant volcano is sacred. Its name means Place of Creation, and at 5 137 meters, it is the highest mountain in the Middle East. Its silhouette graces Armenian banknotes and the national coat of arms.

Unfortunately, since 1920, Ararat has been located in Turkey, a result of a deal struck between the Russians and the Turks. Luckily, you can still see the mountain in all its glory from the Armenian capital every day, though it lies fifty kilometres away and the weather doesn’t always cooperate.

Still, Ararat remains the geographical heart of the Armenian Highlands – at least, according to the Armenians. To substantiate this, they refer to Greater Armenia, the kingdom that stretched from the Mediterranean to the Caspian Sea in the first century BCE. But what Armenians still call Western Armenia, the Turks call Eastern Anatolia – Turkish territory, in other words. Today, Armenia's area is just 29 743 square kilometres, more than ten times smaller than historic Greater Armenia and even slightly smaller than Belgium.

Armenia is virtually at war with Azerbaijan and Turkey

Armenia has a population of three million, but that’s less than half of all Armenians. The majority live abroad – about seven million in total, with 2,5 million in Russia and one million in the USA. Among them are some well-known figures with Armenian roots, such as Charles Aznavour, Cher, Herbert von Karajan, Andre Agassi, Garry Kasparov, and Kim Kardashian.

That Armenian is the official language of Armenia, doesn’t come as a surprise to us. It’s spoken by 96 % of the population. In addition, most people speak some English or Russian. Armenians even use their own alphabet, writing Երևան when referring to Yerevan.

Yerevan, by the way, is considered one of the safest cities in the world, Sira informs us. The police don’t even carry weapons; they are equipped only with first aid kits. Because of this, the local population calls them angels.

In 301 Armenia became the first country in the world to officially adopt Christianity

Russians, Greeks, Jews, and Yazidis are the main minorities in Armenia. The Yazidis practice a Kurdish ethnic religion and gained international attention in 2014 when they were besieged under inhumane conditions by ISIS on Mount Sinjar in northern Iraq.

As we continue to follow the Debed River upstream, the valley becomes narrower and the mountain walls steeper. In fact, we are entering Armenia through its lowest point, at about 400 meters above sea level, while the country's average elevation is around 1 500 meters.

Deforestation is a serious issue in Armenia, which has reached significant levels, especially since 1988. Sira attributes this to earthquakes, but more so to wars and economic blockades.

A key turning point in Armenian history was the year 301, when King Tiridates III made Christianity the state religion. Armenia thus became the first country in the world to officially adopt Christianity. Since then, churches and monasteries with distinctive Armenian architecture have sprung up across the land like mushrooms.

Perched on a high ridge, the monastery resembles a fortress, complete with defensive walls and towers, overlooking the valley

Akhtala Monastery

In search of Akhtala, one of those ancient monasteries, we cross the Debed River just after eleven and climb up along the mountain slope. In the past, this was called Pghindzavank, the copper mine monastery. Fortunately, we don’t have to struggle with that name anymore; today, the village and the monastery are known as Akhtala. You can't really call it an upgrade, as Sira explains, since it means dirty, a reference to the immense environmental pollution caused by the copper mine.

Perched on a high ridge, the monastery resembles a fortress, complete with defensive walls and towers, overlooking the valley. For centuries, it played not only a religious role but also a military one, guarding the northeastern access to Armenia.

 

Akhtala Monastery

Through the partially renovated fortified gate, we enter the monastery grounds. The thermometer reads 33 °C (91 °F). Most of the buildings have been reduced to ruins, with tall grass overtaking the weathered tombstones. Only the Church of the Holy Mother of God has stood almost intact for over eight hundred years. It is a rather austere structure. Once, a massive dome crowned the building, but it did not survive the wrath of Timur.

 

Akhtala Monastery – Sunday Mass

Through the tall, open windows, liturgical chants reach us from afar. It's Sunday today – we had almost forgotten. Quietly, we shuffle into the church. In full vestments, a priest wearing a mitre celebrates mass behind a tiny little altar.

No more than a handful of believers attend the service, but that doesn't dampen the devotion. With great dedication and flair, the acolyte swings his thurible, a metal incense burner, while the priest murmurs his prayers. Softly accompanied by a keyboard, the small women's choir performs their delicate hymns. There are about half a dozen of them – more than there are churchgoers. Reverently, they have covered their heads with scarves, as is customary.

 

 

But it is the unique frescoes that overwhelm us. As bare walls are the norm in Armenian churches, you will hardly ever find murals there. Yet here, we are gazing at frescoes of astounding quality. Nowhere outside of ancient Byzantium will you find better examples of Byzantine art.

It is the unique frescoes that overwhelm us. As bare walls are the norm in Armenian churches, you will hardly ever find murals there

Jesus offering bread to his apostles

More than eight hundred years after their creation, the scenes have hardly lost any of their vibrancy. Blue dominates the rich palette of colours. An impressive circle of saints adorns the base of the apse. Above them, we recognize Jesus offering bread to his apostles. At the very top is the image of the Holy Virgin. It has clearly been deliberately damaged – only the child Jesus on her lap is still recognizable. To the left, we see Pontius Pilate washing his hands in innocence. On the back wall, the Kingdom of Heaven is depicted.

 

Back wall with the Kingdom of Heaven

We thought that a typical feature of an Orthodox church was the iconostasis – a richly decorated wall adorned with icons that separates the choir from the rest of the church. Here, it seems, a velvet curtain has taken over that role.

That's correct, Sira explains. In an Armenian church, you will always find such a curtain, as well as an image of the Holy Virgin. If either is missing, the church is not in function. Generally, the curtain is kept open. It is only closed just before the start of the mass and remains closed for the entire forty-day Lenten period.

 

 

However, this is not the main point of contention that distinguishes the Armenian Apostolic Church from other Orthodox churches. Together with the Coptic and Ethiopian Churches, it belongs to the Oriental Orthodox churches. The Georgian Church, on the other hand, is part of the Eastern Orthodox churches, along with Russia, Bulgaria, and Greece, among others.

Was Jesus human, was Jesus God, or was He a bit of both?

Oriental Orthodox? Eastern Orthodox? We are completely confused. Sira explains, while our driver Valera continues on the road. The Council of Chalcedon turns out to be the culprit. There was quite a bit of disagreement within Christianity about the true nature of Jesus. Was Jesus human, was Jesus God, or was He a bit of both? These kinds of disagreements may seem trivial, but they had already given rise to sects like Nestorianism and Arianism. This needed to be resolved. In 451, a council was convened to clarify these theological matters. It took place in Chalcedon, now Kadıköy, a suburb in the Asian part of Istanbul.

After much deliberation, the council accepted the doctrine of the two natures as dogma. This doctrine asserted that Jesus Christ is truly God and truly human, in two natures – unmixed, unchanged, undivided, and inseparable – where the characteristic properties of each nature are preserved and united in one person and one hypostasis.

Wow. We wouldn't dare to say anything against that. But the Armenians did. Whether by coincidence or not, they happened to be embroiled in a war with powerful neighbours at the time. To keep the Persians at bay – which they ultimately failed to do – they had to miss the Council of Chalcedon and were unable to defend their position there.

But as soon as they reviewed the council’s conclusions, all hell broke loose. The Armenians couldn’t accept a Jesus who was fully divine and fully human at the same time. They argued that Jesus’s two natures, divine and human, had fused into one, resulting in a single divine-human nature, without any separation. Not two natures, but one. By scholars, this belief is known as miaphysitism.

Apart from this, the Armenian Apostolic Church aligns fairly closely with other Orthodox churches. They do not accept the supremacy and infallibility of the Pope in Rome, nor do they accept the doctrine of purgatory. They do not practice the sacrament of confession, and they also don't dilute the wine with water. While they celebrate a feast day for the Immaculate Conception and the Assumption of Mary, they find making these concepts into dogmas a bit too much. Incidentally, they refer to the Assumption of Mary as the Dormition.

Wow. We wouldn't dare to say anything against that. But the Armenians did

But it is the Holy Spirit that remains the biggest point of contention. Starting in the eighth century, the Roman Catholic Church began teaching that the Holy Spirit proceeds not only from the Father but also from the Son. Scholars refer to this as the Filioque. That's incorrect, say the Orthodox churches. They believe that the Holy Spirit proceeds exclusively from the Father, through the Son.

This may not be an issue that keeps us up at night, but it has been enough reason for 250 to 300 million Orthodox believers to disagree with Catholics, Protestants, and Anglicans. It was, in fact, the foundation of the Great Schism of 1054.

 

Debed Valley

Meanwhile, driver Valera is grappling with more earthly problems. Down in the valley, he crossed the Debed River, only to immediately start climbing the mountainside on the other side. But the hoped-for outcome isn’t materializing. Hesitantly, he turns back, frequently stopping to ask passers-by for directions.

 

Haghpat Monastery

Anyhow, it doesn’t take long now before we catch sight of the Haghpat Monastery. The location already looks promising – perched on the edge of a plateau, overlooking the mighty Debed Valley, with the town of Alaverdi faintly visible in the misty distance.

Sira leads us into the gavit of the Church of the Holy Cross. This is the narthex, the entrance hall of the church. Unbaptized believers are not allowed to enter the church itself; they may only go as far as this hall. In one corner, several dozen candles are burning. Every believer will always light a candle before entering a church

Every believer will always light a candle before entering a church

Tombstone

Lighting candles

Numerous tombstones of nobles are embedded in the floor. It almost feels as if the narthex serves as a mausoleum. This is no coincidence, Sira explains. As we walk over the gravestones, our sins are taken away from us. This way, these nobles can once again demonstrate that they strive to serve the people. This leads her to remark, almost in passing, that times may have changed.

 

Haghpat Monastery – Sunday Mass

A few steps lead through a narrow door into the church. A service is currently underway here as well. The interest is significantly greater than earlier; the modest church is packed to capacity.

Notably, the hand of God the Father is depicted, with the thumb and ring finger forming a closed circle

Khachkar or cross-stone with Christ on the cross

Enthusiastically, we come across our very first khachkar, a tall, intricately carved cross-stone over two meters high – little do we know that we’ll see hundreds such cross-stones in the coming week. Still, this is a unique example. Christ Himself is depicted on the cross-stone, which is extremely rare; typically, only the cross is represented.

Although this brown-red stone dates back to 1273, its original colour has hardly been affected. That carmine red is derived from the eggs of the cochineal insect, which remains an important export product for Armenia. Even Michelangelo appreciated its colour fastness.

Notably, the hand of God the Father is depicted, with the thumb and ring finger forming a closed circle. The symbolism is clear: the index finger represents the Father, the middle finger the Son. The latter has only one nature, as indicated by the closed circle between the ring finger and thumb. Finally, the little finger represents the Holy Spirit.

Apparently, earthenware jugs were buried here, serving as a natural refrigerator for storing food and drink

Library with earthenware jugs in the floor

Casually, we stroll over the gravestones toward the former library. Only one window, located at the centre of the dome, lets in some light. Niches in the walls remind us of the original function of this grand space – books were stored here. However, the many round holes in the floor appear to be an alien construction. Apparently, earthenware jugs were buried here, serving as a natural refrigerator for storing food and drink. Having wine within reach in the library sounds like a good idea.

At 330 square meters, this is the largest narthex in Armenia

Haghpat Monastery – Narthex

Another remarkable structure is the second gavit, sponsored by a certain Hamazasp, the bishop at the time. At 330 square meters, this is the largest narthex in Armenia. Yet, this freestanding building has survived many earthquakes. Strangely enough, the accompanying church is barely 20 square meters in size, raising the suspicion that the bishop’s funds ran out prematurely.

In a smaller gallery, several cross stones are gathered. Here, it becomes clear that the cross-stone in its most primitive form was nothing more than a simple cross. Cross-stones likely evolved from pagan dragon stones that were once placed along rivers. In 2010, khachkars were added to the list of intangible cultural heritage.

 

Vrijstaande klokkentoren

We climb up to the freestanding bell tower, one of the largest in Armenia, and take in the impressive surroundings. High on the exterior wall of the church, Sira points out a depiction of Smbat and Gagik, two princes of the Bagratuni dynasty. Together, they are carrying a model of the church. Their mother initiated the construction of this monastery, and they would later complete it as kings.

Together, the two princes of the Bagratuni dynasty are carrying a model of the church

The princes Smbat and Gagik with a model of the church

The remains of a refectory remind us of the glorious past of this thriving monastic community. Through a secret exit, the monks could even escape if danger threatened.

However, it is the memorial stone of Sayat-Nova that captures Sira's sympathy. This eighteenth-century composer remains incredibly popular. Born in Georgia, he managed to secure a position as a diplomat at the court of King Erekle II in Tbilisi – until the king discovered that his sister couldn't resist the charms of Sayat-Nova.

 

Haghpat Monastery

Sayat-Nova was urgently asked to pack his bags. From then on, he would travel through Armenia as a singing bard, ultimately falling here in Haghpat during a siege by the Persians. However, his body rests in Tbilisi. More than 200 songs are attributed to him, in Armenian, Georgian, Persian, and even Azerbaijani. The way he managed to unify all these Transcaucasian elements in one person seems completely unimaginable today. For Sira, Sayat-Nova remains primarily an Armenian.

 

Debed Valley

They could hardly have chosen a better spot for restaurant Qefilyan. From the edge of the plateau, we look out over the valley. The Debed River flows slowly towards us, winding between the deeply cut plateaus. This will be our first introduction to the abundant Armenian cuisine. Countless cold appetizers are ready to eat on the table, including dolma, a dish made of minced meat and rice wrapped in grape leaves.

With Sira and Valera as our coaches, we practice rolling lavash, the thin sheets of soft bread that you can fill with vegetables and cheese as you like. Of course, ribs are also served, as pork is a specialty of the region.

 

Cold starters including dolma (front left)

Memorial stones from World War II can be found almost everywhere in Armenia, except in Akhtala, as Sira notes. Her surprising explanation is that the people had no time for it – day in and day out, they had to work. Eighteen different nationalities lived and worked here, primarily Greeks and French. So much copper was mined in this region that a staggering thirteen percent of the total copper production of the Soviet Union came from here. Even the copper for the Statue of Liberty in New York originated from this valley. Additionally, tin and molybdenum are also extracted here.

It's no surprise that this industrial activity has a dark side. It’s estimated that 40 % of local cancer cases are attributed to the overall pollution of the air, soil, and water. In search of cleaner air, many residents of Alaverdi have settled on the plateau, about three hundred meters above the river.

Still, poverty is prevalent. Men are in the minority here. On average, one in three families relies on a relative who regularly sends money from abroad for their livelihood. Elementary schools usually have only one classroom, with children of all ages sitting together.

All this makes the older generation sometimes long for the Soviet era when stability, free education, and free healthcare were the norm. While 96 % of the population may be literate today, young people with diplomas struggle to find work and often emigrate abroad.

Even the copper for the Statue of Liberty in New York originated from this valley

As if to reinforce Sira's story, the copper factory of Alaverdi passes by the window. A dirty plume of smoke constantly billows above the ash-grey factory buildings. At the very top, on the mountain's peak, a pale scar marks the site of mining. From there, a wide tubular chute carries the ore down the slope. Gloomy apartment blocks remind us that the Soviet era is not truly a thing of the past here.

Just before three, we arrive at the monastery of Sanahin. This is referred to as the sister monastery of Haghpat. Both monasteries have much in common; they date from the same period, are dedicated to the same two brothers, overlook the same Debed Valley from their plateau, and were jointly inscribed on the World Heritage list in 1996. The animosity between the two monasteries is so notable that some sources translate the name Sanahin as older than that other one – older than Haghpat, that is.

More likely, the name of the monastery refers to Anahit, the Persian goddess of love and fertility. For there is no doubt that this monastery was built on the remnants of a temple dedicated to Anahit.

One of the largest bell towers in Armenia it is, built from basalt stone

Sanahin Monastery

Apse of the Amenaprkitch church

Here, too, the bell tower stands next to the church building, rather than on top of it. One of the largest bell towers in Armenia it is, built from basalt stone. We enter the narthex through a semi-open façade. This entrance hall has three impressive bays; it feels almost like a church in itself – or, to be more precise, a basilica, given its rectangular floor plan.

 

Sanahin Monastery – Narthex

Across a floor bursting with gravestones we approach the second narthex. It requires careful attention, as no two stones are level; they resemble stumbling blocks more than proper gravestones.

 

Narthex with carved gravestones

Stone sculptures adorn the walls, and the gravestones are beautifully engraved. Some feature the stylized silhouette of a snake, symbolizing wisdom.

 

Tombstone

Cross in the apse

Tombstone

This brings us to St. Amenaprkitch, one of the highest churches in Armenia. It is likely one of the most austere as well, if you ask us. Against a side wall, there is only an image of Mary. There is no trace of a curtain, indicating that this church is not in use. Yet, in one corner, half a dozen candles burn.

 

Khachkar or cross-stone

Lion head

Like all churches, this one is also oriented toward the east. For it is there that we will see the Saviour appear when He returns on Judgment Day. Next to the choir, Sira points out a remnant of the temple of Anahit – perhaps the base of a pillar.

There were five hundred monks who once had a permanent residence in Haghpat and Sanahin. The monasteries were renowned as centres of education, attracting attention far and wide. A variety of disciplines were on the curriculum, but they particularly excelled in the humanities, especially medicine.

Autopsies on human bodies were performed here – remarkably, four to five centuries before the Flemish physician Andreas Vesalius

The ‘Academy’

A rather narrow gallery with high niches on either side is referred to as the ‘Academy’. It’s hard to imagine students sitting on the cold, stone benches while the professor paced back and forth in the cramped space. We are even more surprised to learn that autopsies on human bodies were performed here – remarkably, four to five centuries before the Flemish physician Andreas Vesalius gained eternal fame for the same. Yet, historical texts leave no doubt about this, according to Sira.

In the scriptorium, some exquisite manuscripts can be admired, provided you’re lucky, as the door is closed. This is more the rule than the exception. Sira has been working as a guide for seven years, and she has only seen the interior of the scriptorium twice.

In the Orthodox liturgy, the pointed hood of the priest symbolizes the shape of a church building

Lighting candles

Orthodox priest

Behind the monastery buildings, we encounter several royal mausoleums and a modern cemetery. Here, it becomes clear how the individual monastery structures snugly lean against each other – the scriptorium, the academy, and both churches with their narthex. This is no coincidence; during an earthquake, these buildings will support one another.

What stands out as well is the high degree of neglect of the exterior. The facades, especially the roofs, are partially overgrown with grass and plants. Their roots relentlessly penetrate the cement between the stones. A scaffold clings idly to the outer wall. Occasionally, volunteers work there in a tireless effort to combat the weeds.

 

A sixteen-year-old is to be baptized. Parents, godparents, relatives, and friends surround him

We briefly visit the St. Amenaprkitch. Although this church is no longer in use, a small family group has gathered. Some even brought gifts. A sixteen-year-old is to be baptized, as it turns out. Parents, godparents, relatives, and friends surround him.

A priest leads the sacrament. His dark robe with a high hood gives him a somewhat sinister appearance – only his hawk-like nose and pepper-and-salt beard are clearly visible. In the Orthodox liturgy, that pointed hood symbolizes the shape of a church building. It is reserved for priests who have vowed not to marry. Whether or not to marry is a personal choice for the priest before he is ordained, but once made, that vow is for life.

Artem Mikoyan designed and produced the MiG jet fighters. His brother Anastas signed the execution order for 22 000 Polish officers in Katyn in 1940

Monument with MiG for Artem Mikoyan

Just before four, we head out. It doesn’t take long, as after a few hundred meters we stop at a bizarre structure – a pillar with a bust of a man next to a jet fighter under a canopy. The building a little further on turns out to be the Mikoyan Brothers Museum. They are unknown to us, but world-famous in the former Soviet Union. Artem, the younger of the two, designed and produced the MiG jet fighters named after them, along with Goerievich. Anastas Mikoyan became a confidant of Stalin, Khrushchev, and Brezhnev. In that role, he signed the execution order for 22 000 Polish officers in Katyn in 1940 and played a significant role in the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962.

The fact that both brothers were born in Sanahin over a century ago doesn’t seem to evoke much pride here. The museum is financially strapped, but the Armenian government isn’t eager to remedy that.

 

Debed Valley

Together with the bust, we gaze over the meadows gently rolling across the plateau. A few horses are grazing, while a farmer uses his tractor to collect hay bales. Nothing hints that just behind this bucolic scene lies the shabby town of Alaverdi, deteriorating in a deep gorge.

Dilijan is our next destination, not far away – just over 80 kilometres. In theory, at least. In practice, the main road has been out of service for two years and will take another two to three years to be fully rebuilt. So, it’s a small detour through Stepanavan and Vanadzor, adding about 35 kilometres.

This means climbing over the more than 2 000-meter-high Pushkin Pass. No problem, except for the growing suspicion we have about the bus's engine condition. Its performance isn’t exactly impressive; the pace at which this vehicle tackles the inclines leaves much to be desired.

Not only figuratively, but literally, darker clouds are gathering above our heads. Fortunately, the rain stays away – for now. Suddenly, a tunnel entrance appears in front of the bus, much to our relief. This two-kilometre tunnel saves us the last two hundred meters of elevation gain.

This brings us to Vanadzor, only twenty kilometres west of Spitak, the town that made headlines in 1988 after being completely destroyed by an earthquake. Our destination, however, lies in the east. Exactly where that is, is still a big question mark, even for Valera – one of Armenia’s best riders, as we were told at the beginning.

Such trivialities don’t daunt Valera, of course. He regularly shouts Dilijan! Dilijan! through the open window at pedestrians who are watching our passage from the other side of the street. They respond with vague arm gestures, from which we can at most deduce that we’re probably on the right track. Completely reassured, we waddle with the bus through an endless series of potholes. Even Sira is enthusiastic and shouts that she is getting to know a part of Armenia that she has never seen before.

But persistence pays off. Eventually, we find ourselves on the M8, heading east. In a broad valley, we look out over the blocky houses of Lermontov and Margahovit, surrounded by vast fields of lush green crops. It’s clear that a hardworking farming population is busy here.

On Orthodox fasting days – that means two hundred days a year – they only drink milk

Lermontov

The Molokans, or milk drinkers, as these farmers are somewhat mockingly referred to by outsiders, prefer to call themselves spiritual Christians. They have little regard for the institutionalized formalism of the Orthodox Church, choosing instead to pursue a personal spiritual practice. Their efforts to reconnect with Christianity as it was originally intended have led to some very unique traditions. For instance, on Orthodox fasting days – that means two hundred days a year – they only drink milk, which is how they earned their nickname.

Like many isolated communities, the Molokans are quite conservative. Education is viewed as a waste of time, and watching TV is completely out of the question. They primarily marry within their own community, and if an Armenian girl marries a Molokan, she must first convert to their beliefs.

In Orthodox Russia, the Molokans were barely tolerated, leading thousands to emigrate, willingly or otherwise. Today, around thirty thousand live in Armenia. In this valley, they earn their living by cultivating carrots, cabbage, and potatoes, which they sell in the city. They are also sought after as cleaning staff because, as Sira pointedly remarks, they are clean and honest.

Meanwhile, our bus is struggling painfully slow up the gentle slopes. Thankfully, we don’t see any cyclists who might mockingly breeze past us. It’s become clear that this bus has serious issues.

Their wines. Their carpets. Their birds. As we approach Dilijan, our destination for the night, Sira becomes increasingly lyrical about it. She claims that around three hundred species of birds can be found here, as we make our way through the narrow, densely wooded Aghstev Valley. Special tours for birdwatchers are quite common in this area.

If paradise existed, it would be in Dilijan. This sentiment, attributed to Maxim Gorky, captures the essence of this enchanting region

If paradise existed, it would be in Dilijan. This sentiment, attributed to Maxim Gorky, captures the essence of this enchanting region, often referred to as Little Switzerland. This nickname is well-deserved, thanks to its lush forests, rich biodiversity, flowing rivers and lakes, and springs of healing mineral water. In 2002, this paradise was designated a national park, further solidifying its status as a natural wonder.

Interestingly, there are plans to transform Dilijan into the financial centre of Armenia. In 2013, a significant number of activities from the Central Bank were relocated here. Staff members who were willing to move were provided with free housing, which would become their property after five years of dedicated service.

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Jaak Palmans
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Illuminator in a dark pit