June 2026. Armenia.
Back in bed from the Southern Armenia 16 hour slog, a 6am alarm on Saturday morning for another early start tour was as welcome as a Maidenhead micro closure.
But this northern exploration, centred on the lakes and forests, was an essential part of understanding a country that had seemed a little barren the previous day.
Yes, n-n-n-nineteen quid, with another 20 seater full house keeping the costs to an absolute minimum so we had drams to spend on candles at Sevanavank monastery,
(highlight – lizards*)
and a savoury pastry from an unmarked bakery in the corner of the coach car park we could never find again.
Sevan Lake was heaving with visitors that Saturday lunchtime, the Windermere of Armenia, and the next stop in the forested national park of Dilijan was as impressive as anywhere in the Peak District.
We were already focused on lunch at Restart, where the “traditional” Armenia Harisa for £7 seemed the obvious choice,
Why (oh why) did no-one tell me that Harisa is porridge. In fairness, the pots of salad, fresh bread, and cake almost compensated.
It’s good to see Blackpool Jane’s return to blogging, and on her tour round the Balkans it’s the other tourists that provide as much joy as the churches.
We got chatting to an Italian from Rome, and a lovely chap from the enclave of Kaliningrad reminded us that not all Russians are warmongers.
We’d got bored of the monasteries by the time we reached Goshavank, more interested in hunting down half litre bottles of water for 40p and comparing travel notes.
But nearby Lake Parz was a gem, a lakeside lesisure park for local people with paddle boats that I’m sure Mrs RM would have mastered,
if she hadn’t decided on a beer in the tent.
Ah ! Dilijan*, the beer of the ancient and stately timbered town (think : Llandrindod Wells) where I somehow contrived to get separated from the walking party while I studied beer menus,
catching them up at the Mimino statue,
commemorating a classic of Soviet cinema win which Russian, Georgian and Armenian combined in perfect unity to resurrect his career as a pilot. Our new Kaliningrad friend had tears in his eyes.
*I’ll await the correction from the reptile expert
** It was terrible, like a lukewarm Cotswold cask beer.
retiredmartin 