I woke up this morning to a captivating view of Yerevan. As I stood out on the balcony, I shown all the city had to offer by my wonderfully hospitable hosts Vasken and Leon. The Mother of Armenia, the monument to the Genocide, Mount Aragats and so much more stretched out before me. There was so much to see I stayed out on the porch for some time just trying to soak it all in.
Leon was kind enough to take the morning off from work to take me to breakfast and get me oriented in the city. On our way to the ArtBridge Cafe we passed what was described to me as an existentialist cafe. I have not investigated it any further yet, but I can only hope to take a break from this truly lovely trip at some point to contemplate the soul crushingly meaningless nature of existence and man's futility to justify our continued being. Despite this, the apple/raisin/cinnamon crepes at ArtBridge though was enough to put a smile on Jean-Paul Satre's face.
From breakfast I wandered the city. The picture above is that of an old Armenian church undergoing restoration. The smaller one wrapped in green is actually one of the only (if not the only) churches in Yerevan to survive the Soviet era. It managed to outlive the Soviet state by hiding. The chapel is remarkably tiny and to make it so the Armenian people could continue to attend church (which was strictly against Soviet policy) they built numerous buildings around the church to hide it. When the USSR came down, so did the buildings. Now they are actually augmenting the small chapel with larger areas of worship around it (as you can see on the right).
I walked to a beautiful set of steps that climbs up a large hill called the Cascades. The Cascades are about as wide as a four lane road with beautiful flowering gardens on either side. The steps are tiered so there are a few stops with fountains and beautiful sculpture gardens at each break. There is also an art gallery at every stop nestled under the stairs.
At the top of the Cascades I crossed the street into a public park. There were quite a number of fair rides that were overgrown. Signs asking for 300 dram to ride a merry-go-round with no one staffing it. Plants and ivy growing up along the tracks of a cart ride. It seemed almost like walking through a long forgotten place for bits of time. But then around the corner, life sprang into view. Kids were running with ice cream in their hands, old men played chess and lovers sat with their arms around each other enjoying the shade on the hot day. People were even enjoying the rides that looked as though no one had taken a ride on them in ages. There was a burst of life in what was otherwise seemed a bygone scene. Further down the path Mother of Armenia towered over the trees. She stood there, sword in hand facing Mount Ararat (a national symbol of Armenia that now lays beyond Turkey's borders).
Yerevan is such a beautiful city. There are so many nooks and crannies I believe no one has seen all of it. Hidden gardens tucked away behind soaring buildings and tunnels decorated with beautiful murals running through them. Areas so low and busy you feel as if the city will engulf you if the bustling cars don't first and spaces so high and open you can see for miles and miles past the sprawl of the city.