retiredmartin

June 2026. Yereven.

This is Mrs RM’s tick list for essential sites in the Armenian capital, denoted by camels.

Reader, I saw zero camels in Armenia.

These mini-posts are mainly to jog Mrs RM’s memory of an epic Yerevan mop-up day last Sunday, though if I do get some Armenian views I’ll be delighted, as it’s a “pointless” country at the moment. More interest from the Northern Mariana Islands, wherever they are.

I’ve had more views (4) from Iran, rather less pubbed than Armenia, which is the first country to adopt Christianity as its official religion. What can it mean ? It means nothing.

The next £2 Yandev whisked us from the base of Mother Armenia to Diana Abgar Park, close to the smartest hotels and restaurants (£7 for pomegranate juice in Seasons) and the Beatles Pub.

Beatles Pub is one of two Untappd paying entries, but seemingly focused on Belgian beers rather than Armenia craft, so we picked Dargett’s taproom.

It’s 3pm on Sunday afternoon, and (apparently) just one other couple in what is clearly a premier site. We enter to the sound of Sheffield’s own Arctic Monkeys, who you have to travel far beyond the Caucasus to avoid.

I’d seen Dargett bottles everywhere, and the tap looks crafty with the exposed ducting and beer menu (Mrs RM LOVES beer menus), but in truth it’s more Brewhouse & Kitchen than, say, Hop Hooligans.

The food menu arrives before the extensive beer list, and there’s nothing really weird on there, which isn’t a criticism, just an observation.

All the beers seem to be a similar price, so why on earth I had the (decent) session IPA rather than the Russian Imperial Stout I’ll never know.

Mrs RM, contrary as ever, has the cider and I hoped she wouldn’t be matching apple and grain as I’ve only got 3 aspirin left.

Luckily, she then has a large pot of Armenian tea, the sensible choice to match some quality pub grub.

The brewing vessels are downstairs, along with lots of tables with reserved signs on, so obviously Dargett does fill up quite quickly with tour groups.

Tellingly, no-one sitting outside in the oppressive heat, and Mrs RM by now is wilting, though wanting to tick off those camels.

The Kond pedestrial tunnel was closest,

a third of a mile of grime and graffiti to hint at an alternative Yerevan we never quite got to.

This picture probably captured the state of both our befuzzled (?) brains at this point,

and we took a Yandex back to the hotel to await a cooler evening.