Caucuses etc: Thessaloniki

Tuesday, June 14, 2017

After an 6:00 flight to Thessaloniki, Greece (1), I grabbed a bus to the city center. The church of Agia Sofia was in the center of town. The church, named after the Agia Sofia in Constantinople (later known as Istanbul), was built in the 700s. As is the case with many churches in this part of the world, the building was converted to a mosque during the Ottoman period. The frescoes and mosaics were painted over (2). The mosaics, being more resilient, survived and were restored in the twentieth century. A mosaic in the central dome depicts Jesus surrounded by a group of people. I quietly asked a priest nearby who the figures were and he just scowled at me, presumably for talking in the church.

The nearby Rotunda building was constructed in the 300s. Given the time of construction, the building is believed to have originally been a Pagan temple. The building had a much larger dome and bigger windows than Agia Sofia (which was rather gloomy) because there was better knowledge of engineering and construction techniques in the 300s than in the 700s (2). 

Mustafa Kemal, the founder of the modern Turkish Republic was born in Thessaloniki, known as Salonika at the time. I was surprised to see a house museum dedicated to him on the map; the Greeks and Turks have no great sympathy for each other and have disagreed on virtually everything since at least 1453. As I approached the location, I noted a large police presence, a big fence topped with spikes, and a fortified door at the back with a sign for the museum. The museum is on the grounds of the Turkish Consulate. I press a buzzer. The guards, perceiving me to be no threat, let me into the consular compound. 

The house in which Kemal was born is now a museum that is rather hagiographic (3), although a display of his early life does note that he had trouble learning French and was expelled from one school for fighting with another boy. As a result of the "population transfers" negogiated between the Greek and Turkish governments in the early 1920s, the Kemal family had to leave Thessaloniki, and he never returned to the city as an adult.

It was stll morning as I walked to my hotel on Egnatia St.(4). I noted a sign for to the train station, and I remembered reading somewhere that there is a good view of Mount Olympus (birthplace of the Greek gods) from the train to Athens. A quick look at the map and train schedule told me that getting off the train at Leptokarya would provide a view of Olympus. The view of Olympus was impressive, with snow still visible at higher altitudes.

Judging by the atmosphere and license plates in Leptokarya, the town is popular with budget-conscious Serbians on beach vacations. Seeing little reason to linger in the town, I caught the next train back to Thessaloniki.

As the day waned, I took the ferry across Thessaloniki bay and back. Most of the other passengers on the trip back were the youth hostel crowd returning from a day at the beach.

(1) My two choices for departures from Western Georgia were from Batumi to Istanbul for $200+ or from Kutaisi to Thessaloniki for $27. Hence my decision to stop at Thesaaloniki on the way home.

(2) The loss of engineering and construction knowledge was mainly a result of the fall of Rome. These really were the dark ages. Another example of the heights of knowledge reached in earlier periods is the Hagia Sofia in Istanbul. Opened in 537, the church had a dome bigger than any other in the western world for over 1,000 years. After the Ottomans captured the city is 1453 (a), they tried, without success, to create an equal or larger dome for hundreds of years. 

(3) For example, there was a display in the basement about how much he lived children, and how much children loved him in return. Mustafa Kemal is also sometimes called Kemal Ataturk (father of the Turks) reflecting his status as the founder of the modern Turkish republic from the wreckage of the Ottoman Empire (which had sided with Germany in the First World War).

(4) The modern street bears the name of, and is built above, the ancient Roman Via Egnatia, which connected (together with the Appian way) Rome and Byzantium (known later as Constantinople, then as Istanbul). 

(a) An event known in the west as the "Fall of Constantinople" and in Turkey as the "Capture of Stamboul."

Agia Sofia, Thessaloniki

Dome Mosaic, Agia Sofia

Geometric Pattern at Agia Sofia from its use as a mosque

The Rotunda

Entrance to Mustafa Kemal House Museum at Turkish Consulate Compound

View of Mount Olympus from the train

Sunset, Thessaloniki Harbor

Large windows and bright interior of the Rotunda

Caucuses etc: Kutaisi

Monday, June 12,  2017

The train slowly made its way down the valley from Borjomi to the junction with the main line at Kashuri. Along the way, I noted that the grade crossing gates were manually controlled. On a branch line with 4 to 6 trains a day, this must be a rather dull job. 

At Kashuri, there were two hours to wait before the westbound train to Kutaisi. The square outside the station had a small bake shop with pastry in the windows. As I pointed to the various items, the baker showed me various mixing bowls she was stirring to present the contents of the pastries. I picked the one thay looked like some brown sugar concoction; drat, it was mushed baked beans (1).

As each train arrived, a few ladies with baskets of food and drinks approached the doors of the train and called out what they were selling; they seemed to be doing a reasonable business. Upon the arrival of one train, an older man shuffled down the stairway of the yrain followed by at least a dozen 5-gallon pails of apples (2). He seemed quite frail, so I helped him carry the pails into the station, then to someone's car. 

There were some Swedish travellers at Kashuri who were also waiting for the westbound train. They had walked to a nearby grocery for provisions and the man asked if I had a wine bottle opener. I did not. "Travelling naked" he replied, as was he, he admitted. They had spent four days in Borjomi, which seemed a long time to me. They had spent a lot of time just reading and relaxing.

The "fast" train to Kuaisi covers the 221 kilometers from Tbilisi to Kutaisi in only 5 1/2 hours, which is much faster than I could ride my bicycle. Just west of Kashuri, the train passed through a long tunnel, signalling our crossing of the divide betwern eastward-flowing water destined for the Caspian Sea and the Black Sea Basin. The train split at Rioni junction with one car heading up the branch line to Kuaisi while the rest of the train proceeded to the Black Sea coast.

The main attractions in Kutaisi are two monasteries a few miles from town. After stopping at the guesthouse, the hostess arranged for her husband, Giorgi, to take me to the monasteries, for which there is no public transit access. 

Levan, an official guide showed me around. While he was born in Georgia, he spent most of his first 24 years living in Germany. He did not like his job as a bouncer at a club in Berlin (he liked to smile too much, he said) so he decided to return to his ancestral home in the nearby village and work in the tourist trade.

The Gelati Monastery was built in the 1100s

 during the reign of King David the Builder, who first united most of modern Georgia. As with many of the religious buildings in the area, the interior frescoes, etc. were damaged during the period of Ottoman rule. In this case, the Turks set a fire in the monastery. A mosaic of Mary and Jesus over the altar survived the fire, and has been restored. 

The tomb of King David the Builder is on the site and was constructed (on his orders) so that visitors entering the Monastery site would step in his grave to get to the monastery. He believed this expression of humility would help to atone for his sins. The views from this monastery are said to extend to the high Caucuses, but the low cloud cover and rain the day of my visit made for a limited horizon.

The nearby Motsameta Monastery is built on a high bluff at a bend in the river. During my visit, a woman was chanting while the priest spread incense around the church.

(1) Throughout my voyage in the Caucuses, I have pointed to various pastries in shop windows that I thought were sweet but turned out to have savory fillings. There seems to be a particularly strong cheese commonly used as pastry filling here.

(2) The practice of carrying large volumes of produce on the train is quite common in the Caucuses. Georgian Railways even levies charges for bulk produce carried by passengers on its trains.

Manual railway grade crossing gates

Mosaic of Mary, Gelati Monastery

Tomb of King David the Builder

View from Motsameta Monastery

Sunset at Kutaisi

Caucuses etc: Akhaltsikhe & Borjomi

Sunday, June 11, 2017

The name Akhaltsikhe means "New Castle" in Georgian. The castle complex of Rabati is an interesting  combination of preservation, restoration and re-creation. The outer part of Rabati has a hotel, restaurants, coffee shops, &c. The inner portion is accessible by ticket; I engaged an English-speaking guide to show me around.

The castle complex is a hodge-podge of different styles, reflecting different periods of local history. The castle dates to the 1200s and the dominant features in the inner area are the watchtower and former mosque. A church building and Russian pavilions are also present. Highlighting the Moorish influence from the Ottoman period, the castle features a number of contemplative pools.

The museum features local artifacts dating from as early as 2,000 BCE. Two items were particularly striking to me: A Pagan clay figurine with a few holes that look like a face (1) and an original illuminated manuscript of the gospels from the 1500s (2).

After a quick lunch, I was off to the Sapara Monastery deep in the mountains outside Akhaltsikhe, passing road-side poppy fields as we ascended. While there has been a monastery here since the 9th century, the current church building, St Saba's, and the frescoes therein, date from the 1300s. One story says the monastery was so well-hidden that the Ottomans were not aware of the monastery for the 3 centuries they ruled the area. 

On the return trip down the mountains, we stopped at a pine glade and the driver rubbed his stomach, indicating nausea from the curvey ride (his or mine, I was not sure). We took some deep breaths and he told me that the pine trees were young because the communists had clear-cut the forest. While I do not speak Russian, I caught about every 10th word when they were cognates with English or French (3). He was very exuberant in his use of hand gestures, and he very much wanted me to understand the story.

I found the former and current Akhaltsikhe bus stations (unfortunately, I found the former bus station first) and hopped on the next Mashrutka to Borjomi. The town was more honky-tonk than I expected, with arcade games, bumper boats, roller coasters, etc. The slightly-rickety cable car ride to the top of the escarpment was scenic; I walked back down a little-used path that brought me into Borjomi central park (and unexpectedly, but pleasantly, allowed me to avoid the teenager-generated pandemonium at the park's ticket window and gate) (4) (5).

In 1820, the Russian Tsar (who ruled Georgia at the time) discovered that there were warm sulphur springs at Borjomi and his cousin built a palace nearby. It soon became very fashionable for the aristocracy to come to Borjomi to take the waters. A sign in the park said that the Tsar's Sulphur springs were 3.2 km up the valley. The honky-tonk (and paved pathway) soon ended and a muddy dirt road continued beside the river up the valley. As I walked into the woods through the mud, I took comfort in seeing people coming down the valley with small backpacks and wet hair; this must be the way to the Tsar's baths. About 3/4 of the way up, a sputtering, backfiring 4-person ATV approached. The driver stopped and signalled me to hop in the back. Seeeing a large stream coming from the valley side blocking the road just ahead (6), I accepted the ride and soon arrived at the warm mineral springs. The soak in the warms springs was quite refreshing.

On the walk back, I encountered a trio from Aktau, Kazahkstan. While communication was challenging, they did offer me a swig from a rather informal-looking bottle of some libation they clearly had been enjoying; I declined the offer. The Kazahk husband and wife insisted on a photo with me. The wife giggled, rolled her eyes at her husband, and generally seemed to think the whole encounter was great fun. Their pace not matching mine, I said goodbye in halting Russian and proceeded back to town.

(1) It is always interesting to me that, as highly social beings, we humans have evolved to see faces everywhere, even in a piece of clay with three holes that approximate where eyes and a mouth would be.

(2) There are many manuscript reproductions here also. The darkened room, special lighting and sealed case signalled the presence of origibal manuscripts. I was horrified when I noticed a guy take a flash picture of the original illuminated manuscript with his mobile phone.

(3) French was commonly spoken by the aristocracy in late Tsarist Russia. Some French words therefore made it into Russian, such as  "douche" (shower in French) pronounced and meaning the same in Russian.

(4) Judging by the large number of groups of teenagers I have seen throughout Georgia, I'm guessing it's the end of the school year. A number of these groups of teens were dressed up for end-of-year banquets something like a prom.

(5) The Georgian people, while otherwise very pleasant, have no idea how to queue. For example, the notion of letting people off the Tblisi metro before getting on is entirely unknown here. Envision the offensive and defensive lines colliding in American football.This practice is particularly challenging when occurring at the small doors of Mashrutky. A babushka and I had a bit of a standoff at a Mashrutka door as she tried to get on and I to get off; I won.

(5) Thankfully, on the walk back down the valley, I discovered a small bridge a short walk up the side stream.

 Gold-domed Mosque at Rabati Castle.

Madrassa (Islamic school) is to the left.

Rabati Castle

Contemplative pool at Rabati

Pagan artifact at Rabati Museum

Poppies on the road to Sapara

Sapara Monastery from the Watchtower

Fresco at Sapara

Borjomi Cable Car

The Tsars' Sulphur Spring Baths

Whimsical bridge in Borjomi

Caucuses etc: The Kukushka Train

Saturday, June 10, 2017

The next morning, there was a group of high school kids on the early train to Borjomi. As it happens, they were the same kids I went to high school with: the flirty girl, the brooding boy, the overweight kid who is the class clown, etc. At one pont they sang "Happy Birthday" to someone in English.

The train connected at Borjomi to the narrow guage train to the mountain spa town of Bakuriani. The cars are tiny and the ride was delightful.

We stopped at one small station and a old man got on with 3 suitcases, 2 large bags of dogfood, a few plastic bags filled with something and a large coil of wire. Accompanying him was another man transporting a large steel-framed wooden door, which he left on the rear platform. At the next official station stop, the station master brought out a piece of mirror glass (about 12" X 12") and handed the glass to the man through the window. The train stopped somewhere between stations to let the old man and all his baggage out near his house; he appreciated my help off-loading his stuff. We proceeded about 100 yards to a spot close to a stone chapel, and the other man and his door alighted. The door appeared to be destined for use at the chapel, as the chapel did not have one.

Shortly thereafter, the train stopped where a man had chopped down a tree adjacent to the tracks which he had cut into logs. The logs were duly loaded on the rear platform (thankfully, the chapel door had recently been offloaded, so there was room), and we were off again. After 2 hours and 25 minutes, we arrived at Bakuriani, 37.5 kms from Borjomi.

At Bakuriani, I walked into the village to get some water and a snack for the return ride. On the walk back to the station, the rumbling in the sky became a down-pouring electrical storm. Another guy and I ran for the train just before the hail started. The other guy looked at me, smiled and said the English word "Hurricane." The hail began as pea size, then expanded to US Quarter coin-sized. The hail made interesting pinging sounds as it hit the roof of the train car and bounced off (1).

On the way back, there was a Russian-speaking couple who appeared to be travellers. The conductor told us all in Russian that there was a bridge constructed by Eiffel (of Paris tower fame) coming up soon (2), so we all proceeded to the rear platform for a better look. On the rear platform, there were two large and oily metal objects the purpose of which I could not even guess at.

A little later, I was hanging out on the front platform just behind the engine and was joined by 3 boys about 9 to 11 years old. The oldest boy asked me a question, but I told them I did not speak Georgian. He then queried the youngest boy (apparently how to ask in English), and the oldest boy then asked in English: "Flame for smoke?" I could not comply with their request. Another hail storm began suddenly thereafter. As I was getting back inside (and encouraging the boys to do the same), the train driver tooted the horn and signalled us to get inside. These same young boys reflexively made the sign on the cross later when we passed a church.

Back at Borjomi, I said thanks and goodbye in Russian to the train conductor. He reached out his hand a gave me a warm handshake. As the sky was threatening again, I decided not to walk the half hour to grab a Mashrutka (3). After the usual haggling with a local taxi driver (4), I got into an ancient Volvo with a cracked windshield and broken seat belts for the 30+ mile ride up the valley to Akhaltsikhe, passing a number of trucks (in no passing zones, of course) headed for the Turkish border, which is nearby. The driver asked if I was English: "Anglia, da?," to which I agreed (5).

Halfway to Akhaltsikhe, the driver asked "Bakuriani?" to ask where I had come from. I said "da" and made a train whistle noise to indicate my mode of transport. He conveyed to me (by imitating the train sound himself) that the train was known locally as the "Kukushka" which is onomatopoeic for the sound of the train's whistle. As we arrived at Akhaltsikhe, I showed him a map of my hotel location. The driver apparently does know how to read maps, so I gave him directions to the hotel by pointing.

I arrived at my hotel and was greeted like an old friend ("Mr. Charles") with a small bottle of home-made Georgian wine (yum). The hotel had a great view of Rabati Castle, which is the reason people come to Akhaltsikhe. This was one of the more expensive places I stayed in the Caucuses at the equivalent of US $25 a night.

(1) Hail is apparently no more common here than elsewhere. A few days later, I was chatting with someone who told me that the hailstorm got bad enough near Tbilisi that some cars "looked like they'd been hit with a baseball bat."

(2) I heard a word that sounded like a cognate for the Serbo-Croation word for bridge ("most") which I happen to know. I made out the rest by context (I had read there was an Eiffel-built bridge on the line). The Russian-speaking woman was kind enough to ask (in broken English) if I understood. This is actually the second railway built by Eiffel I had crossed, the first being on the Romanian border at Ungheni, Moldova.

(3) Sort of like a small bus that runs between towns. They are ubiquitous throughout the former Soviet Union and the Balkans, although they sometimes are called different names, like "furgon" in Albania. In Georgia, there is usually an approximate schedule for the Mashrutky. In Albania, the furgons leave "when full."

(4) Haggling proceeds as follows when you don't know the local language: you name a destination and rub your thumb against your other fingers; the driver responds by holding up fingers naming a price; after a bit of back and forth, you grab a scrap of paper and pen (which I always have handy) to confirm your understanding of the price. There was a variation in this case: instead of paper, we wrote the price with our fingers on the dirty back window of the taxi. BTW: Taxi meters? No, anyone in this part of the world with a car can buy a taxi sign to stick it on the roof when they need some cash.

(5) There are a few places in the world I have not encountered Americans, but no matter how obscure the destination, there are always Britons around. English did not become the default second language in the world because the British people were home-bodies.

High School Kids on the Borjomi train

The Kukushka narrow-guage train

View from the rear platform

One man's baggage

The chapel where the door was dropped off

Next stop: logs

The engine

View from the train

The chapel door delivery

Crossing Monsieur Eiffel's Bridge

Twilight, Rabati Castle at Akhaltsikhe

Caucuses etc: Tbilisi

Friday, June 9, 2017

The sleeper train from Gyumri to Tbilisi left at 12:25 a.m. and I had a sleeping compartment to myself. There was a full moon, so I was able to see the landscape between naps. Entering the Republic of Georgia, the immigration official seemed pleased to have people visiting his country. Customs gave a cursory look into my backpack, then a very thorough search of all the hidey holes in the compartment that I did not know were there, including spots where the ceiling panels could be removed (1).

Arrival on schedule at Tbilisi "Central" Station (2). I think the train attendant is from Tbilisi (rather than Yerevan), judging by how excited he was when he pointed out the window as we neared the station and said "Tbilisi!".

I found my guest house; I had asked by email if I could drop my bag in the morning when my train arrived. I entered the guest house and emailed where I should leave my bag because no-one was around. A few minutes later, an older women entered and handed me her phone with an "it's for you" gesture. The hostess was in Batumi; the older woman was her mother who showed me to my room. Because no one was in my room the night before, I was able to check in and take a shower in the shared bathroom.

I took a walking tour of the old city. "Tbilisi" means warm city in the local language of 1,500 years ago when the city was founded. We passed the Seminary where Joseph Stalin studied for the priesthood (3) and a mosque in where Sunni and Shia worship together, which is rather unusual.

Cable cars are part of the city transit system, and I rode to the old fort. I tried to find the trail climbing to the top of the funicular a few kilometers away, but no luck. I walked over to the bottom of the funicular instead, rode up and walked down past a church and the Georgian Pantheon, where the top Georgian literary figures are buried.

The modern part of the city is dominated by an enormous cathedral, which is the seat of the Patriarch of the Georgian Orthodox church. While it looked like something restored from Medieval times, the Cathedral was actually built in 2006 (4).

(1) There were signs at Yerevan station warning about drugs and other medicines enter Georgia. Georgian customs had even used special tape to seal some hidey holes on the train.

(2) A bit of a misnomer because the station is 2 miles from the central square.

(3) Yes, you read that right. The man who ruled the officially-athiest Soviet Union with an iron first for almost 30 years in the mid-twentieth century attended seminary in his younger days. He was a native Georgian, born in Gori (a). I understand he spoke Russian with a thick Georgian accent.

(4) I had a chat with Tamar, a local Tbilisian about this. She perceives that religion is popular now, even among young people, because the communists were against it, and anything forbidden must be worth trying. She does not think the high degree of religiosity among the Georgian people will last in the long run.

(a) I encountered a Swedish traveller later in the trip who had visited the Stalin museum in Gori. He told me the Museum's treatment of Stalin was relatively balanced. When I told him that Stalin had studied for the priesthood, he responded "no surprise." I bit and asked why he was not surprised. "Priests love power too" came the quick reply. 

My sleeper compartment

Libery Square with statue of Saint George

Angel striking the hour, Tbilisi Old Town.

I stumbled upon the 25th Anniversary of the Chinese Embassy to Georgia

Funicular Station. Note the Persian design influence

The Orthodox Cathedral, built in 2006

Caucuses etc: The local train to Gyumri

Thursday, June 8, 2017

At breakfast, the host and hostess's son Alec came to visit. He was very pleased at our reaction to his saying "hi" in English, so he kept doing so until we distracted him by making animal noises. He then told us the Armenian word for each of the animals, which seemed to please him even more.

The drive back to Yerevan was pleasant. I caught the 2:30 local train to Gyumri. All along the route, there are great views of Mount Aragat and occassionally of Mount Ararat as well. The train was a Soviet-era four car unit with wooden benches. At many of the stops, old ladies were getting on and off the train carrying enormous bundles of vegetables.

At Gyumri, there is little to do. The city was severely damaged by an earthquake in 1988, and does yet appeared to have fully recovered.

The Car Interior

Unscheduled Stop for Sheep and Cow on the Tracks

Mount Aragats, The Highest Peak in Armenia

Turkey is Across the Lake

At a Flag Stop

Mount Aragats

Caucusas etc: Tatev and Norovank

Wednesday, June 7, 2017

I had a nice chat with the young lady at the hotel desk who was admiring my detailed relief map of Armenia. She had climbed Mount Aragat, the tallest peak in Armenia, last year in late May. I pointed to the snow on the nearby mountains, and she said this year was unusually cold and snowy; when she climbed last year, there was no snow on Aragats. I took a quick look at the ruins of a Monastery nearby at Aragats before descending the valley and heading southwest. 

At Vyad, a modern church looked inviting, so I stopped for a quick look. There was a modern Khashkar (pictues or saying etched in stone) sculpture there incorporating many of the more famous Khashkars from throughout Armenia. Upon entering the church courtyard, I had waved to a woman nearby. She soon approached me and asked (in Russian) if I wanted coffee, tea, or the bathroom. She was rather insistent (and I was thirsty), so I bought a Coke and sat at her little cafe overlooking a nearby gorge, which she pointed out to me with a broad sweep of her hands and some Russian I did not understand.

Back on the road, my plan was to drive to Jemruk, a spa town to take the waters. At the turnoff for Jemruk (33km), I noticed a sign for the Wings of Tatev 90 km (1), with a picture of a cable car. I checked my fuel level and the time and headed south toward Tatev.

I soon began ascending Vorotan Pass at 2,344 meters. There were so many switchbacks, I could not count them all. The road was one lane in each direction, heavily rutted and occassionally, the pavement would stop and become dirt. I passed a wide variety of

trucks lumbering up the mountain plus the ocassional Soviet-era Lada Sedan that seemed equally reluctant to make the climb (2). South of the pass, there are some signs in Farsi, Iran being the closest country to this part of Armenia (3).

The Wings of Tatev is a cable way opened in 2010. You cut off over 12 kms relative to taking the serpentine road up and down the mountains. The Tatev Monastery is high in the hills. While the Monastery site is ancient, little remains of the older buildings after the 1931 earthquake. Tatev was the center of a republic briefly after the fall of the Tsars, but was captured by the Soviets after a short time. 

The highlight of the day was back north at Norovank. This Monastery is in a spectacular location at the end of a very narrow canyon. There was a small deer clambering among the steep cliffs beside the Monastery. The setting sun highlighted the red in the cliffs, while the almost-full moon rose behind the church.

I stayed at a guest house at the end of a dirt road just past the old Lada with no windiws propped up on blocks. There were two guys from France also staying the night. We all helped prepare dinner, then drank all the vodka we wanted (4).

(1) 90 km is less than 60 miles. However, these are not 60 miles on a US interstate, so I was making a 3 to 4 hour (round trip) time commitment in choosing to head for Tatev.

(2) The passing procedure is as follows:

(a) check for oncoming traffic

(b) downsfhift to first (the trucks go very slowly up the hill)

(c) turn off air conditioning  (I was driving a Nissan Micra with a rather small engine)

(d) make sure you're not being passed.

(e) GO!

(f) bonus step if you have stopped to take a picture and are at a complete stop: repeat the refrain from "The Little Engine that Could" ( I think I can,  I think I can) like an incantation.

(3) While Azerbaijan is closer, the border has been closed for more than 20 years in the wake of the Nagorno Karaback war.

(4) Which, in my case is 1 very small glass. After 1 sip, I sputtered and cough and turned bright red. The Armernian hostess and the guys from France thought this was hilarious.

Monastery Ruins at Arates

Khashkar Sculpture at Vyad

Cows at High Pasture, Vorotan Pass

Tatev Monastery

Traffic on the Main Highway from Southern Armenia

Norovank Monastery

Detail of Carved Wood Door, Norovank

Dusk at Norovank Canyon

Sunset/Moonrise at Norovank Monastery

Norovank Canyon

The road to the guesthouse