24th September – Gyumri, Armenia
Hearing a hissing sound, I thought it must be the pipes and rolled over attempting to get back to sleep on undoubtedly the most uncomfortable mattress of the trip. Thirty seconds later, it sounded like somebody was having a shower. I looked over, Kaja was asleep next to me, so I went to investigate. As I opened the bathroom door, I immediately felt water spraying at me. A pipe had seemingly randomly burst! Our homestay host looked quizzically as to why her guests were banging on the door at 3am, but soon was able to isolate and turn off the water supply. No damage done and back to bed.
We had a slow start, first moving to a different room (with a comfier bed!), and also just fancying a restful morning. Eventually, we headed off to the train station to try to work out a couple of connections. Armenian railways proudly state on their website that Gyumri-Vanadzor trains were relaunched last year but nobody at the station seems aware of this. Marshrutky again tomorrow, then! That’s both trains we’ve intended to get so far in the Caucasus turn out bit to be possible, what with the unexpected sell out of the Tbilisi-Kutaisi service. Actually, three, as Baku-Sheki is also shelved currently, and we’d have gotten that too. The other service we wanted to check was the sleeper back from Yerevan to Tbilisi. Again, the Armenian railways website says this will be available to book 40 days before, but as of today the 29th September (5 days time) is the furthest sales go. The helpful ticket office staff say that tickets will be released in a few days after the winter timetable is published and to keep checking.
Gyumri was devastated by earthquakes in 1926 and again in 1988 and it’s difficult not to view most of the city through this prism, given rebuilding is still underway and the population is only just over half of that before the second quake. As many as 50,000 people died in the region in 1988, including, astonishingly, two thirds of the doctors. A huge international humanitarian effort was launched, including the biggest outside assistance in the USSR since the 1940s. Kaja suggested that we walk to the northern reaches of the city, where the remnants of the polytechnic institute could be found. The long walk took us through huge avenues and boulevards, which were much wider than seemed necessary for the low-rise apartments and sporadic shops. Perhaps, this area was much busier prior to ’88? Many buildings had also been left collapsed and abandoned.
The Iron Fountain and some crumbling ruins are all that remain of the polytechnic. The surroundings felt distinctly depressing, as dirt tracks weaved between piles of overgrown rubble and corrugated iron shacks, street dogs guarded their corners, and the horizon was filled with abandoned industry and desolate hills. A 76-year-old Ukrainian woman came out of a hut, clutching photos of how the place used to look. In a mixture of Polish, Russian, and Ukrainian, she painted a picture of a joyous campus, with partying students swimming in the fountain and trolleybuses connecting the institute with the rest of the city (then called Leninakan). Now, she and others live with no services, through winters where temperatures can drop to -41C, in an apparently crime-prone area. As the rain began to fall, we bade her farewell and made our way back hurriedly towards the busier city streets.
Two street dogs decided to adopt us for the 3km walk back to town. They waited for us when I took photos, crossed roads at our side, and looked down concerned when we unexpectedly took a subway before darting down excitedly to re-join and nozzle us. We all stopped to drink. At one junction, they were adamant we should cross the street, but we ignored them. 100m later, a big dog aggressively barked at us. They were right. They escaped across the busy road and we thought we’d lost them, only for them to cross back at the next traffic lights to check on us. Eventually, we stopped for food and they lied down outside the restaurant to wait for us. We love dogs. They eventually got tempted on by food, but for half an hour we were a two human, two dog pack.
Our order of ‘greens’ wasn’t quite the iron-rich cooked dish that we expected. We instead rolled our own lavash with the huge pile of herbs – dill, parsley, coriander, and purple basil – we’d been served up! We’ve no idea if that was what we were meant to do, but it was certainly unique for us. We’ve never eaten wraps stuffed exclusively with herbs before. Is this an Armenian thing or were they laughing at us?!
The ceramics museum we’d spotted yesterday was closed to set up a new exhibition of art from Syunik, but we were very lucky to be allowed in for a sneak preview. Another place to come back to with a van to decorate our future house!
Through the centre, we entered a black stone church. As with other sites, the previous bell towers sat where they’d fallen in 1988. The black stone comes from the local volcanic tuff and is often mixed or accented with orange throughout the city. It’s an iconic look. Our final destination on a day of walking was the Mother Armenia statue southwest of the city. On our way, we passed through a park complete with an ancient functioning and photogenic Ferris wheel. Some local photography students found us more interesting, and we were repeatedly ‘papped’!
The statue itself looks out over the city, from atop of a set of stairs with memorials dedicated to the major Red Army victories over the Nazis which turned the tide of World War II. The historical Black Fortress, again constructed from local tuff, looked out from the hill next door as a modern-day military base hummed with activity across the valley. I couldn’t help but wonder about the Mother Armenia’s long-term fate.