Last week, Jeremy and I visited Armenia. Even though Azerbaijan and Armenia are neighbors, they are not friends. If this is news to you, you can Google "Nagorno-Karabakh conflict" for some background. We stopped mentioning to Azerbaijani friends and colleagues that we were going to Armenia, after it raised eyebrows with the first people I told. As we were in the midst of our trip, I was wondering what I would blog about, since a travelogue on Armenia seemed inappropriate in my blog about Baku. But as our trip reached its conclusion, a blog-worthy experience presented itself.
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| Haghpat Monastery |
Along the main northern driving route out of Armenia, we stopped at World Heritage-listed monastery Haghpat. We appreciated its simple beauty, enjoyed the view from its mountaintop perch, took some photos, and got back into the car. Rather than return via the same hairpin-turn road we took up, Google Maps suggested a different route down that seemed ideal for our continued northward journey. The road quickly degenerated into a trail and then just two tracks through the rocky terrain. We were in a rugged Land Rover, so we forged ahead...until we hit a large rock and ripped a hole in the front tire.
Jeremy located the jack and started the process of changing the flat. He raised the jack to its maximum height, but it wasn't high enough. He decided we should reposition the car and start again with some rocks under the jack. But as he fiddled with it, he couldn't figure out how to release the jack to bring the car back down. I grabbed the folder of rental car paperwork and was about to call the company for help, when Jeremy used his Leatherman to finally release the jack. Having figured out all the necessary tricks, Jeremy continued changing the flat and we were back on the road in under a half-hour. We both breathed a sigh of relief when we soon reached the end of the rocky trail and rejoined the main road.
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| Rental Land Rover |
About 30 minutes along, Jeremy started gathering the paperwork needed for our border crossing into Georgia. He located our passports but couldn't find the vehicle registration card, leading to the following dialogue. Jeremy: "Where's the car registration?" Erica: "It's in the folder with all the car rental documents." Jeremy: "It's not here. I saw it on the ground when we were changing the flat. Didn't you pick it up?" Erica: "What?!?!?!?!?!"
We realized that when the jack wasn't working and I grabbed the folder to call the rental company, the registration card had dropped onto the ground. Jeremy noticed, but was so busy with the tire-changing that he just figured I had seen it and would pick it up. I hadn't noticed it fall out at all. We knew we couldn't get through the border without the registration card. There was no choice except to turn around and drive back to get it. Which we did, finding the card exactly where it had fallen out.
Turning around again, we finally reached the border and hoped all would go smoothly and speedily, since by now it was already dark. We were waiting in the line when a border official walked up our car window. He said something in Armenian or Russian and then pointed to a building behind us, clearly indicating that we had missed a step in the process. In that moment, all the frustrations of the last two hours emerged as I let out a loud, long, high-pitched scream right in the guard's face! Jeremy said later "I kept waiting for the scream to end, but instead it got higher." The guard probably would have been fully within his rights to arrest me for harassment, but instead he just calmly stepped back. After I took a few breaths, we continued through the proper processes, and departed Armenia without further incident. Which is certainly a happier ending than being detained by border officials!
Below are a few pictures of our trip before it descended into chaos!
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| Erica at the top of Yerevan's Cascade steps |
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| Jeremy in Yerevan's Republic Square |
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| Erica among the barrels at Noy Brandy Company |
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| Jeremy in the village of Dilijan |
