Hitchhiking to Khor Virap

Having left Etchmiadzin with a priest’s blessing, I decide to hitchhike to Khor Virap, a distance of only 30km. I take a marshrutka a part of the way and start hitchhiking along the main highway.

There is a lot of traffic, so one would think that getting a lift is not a problem. Every driver had the same idea, there are so many cars, I don’t need to stop because someone else will. I walked for two hours before a car stopped and offered me a lift.

The guy that stopped happened to be a taxi driver, in Armenia, it seems every second driver is a taxi driver. I tell him I’m hitchhiking and he says he’ll take me as far as the turnoff for the village of Khor Virap.

I get out of the taxi and no more than twenty seconds pass before a car also turns off in that direction and stops for me. On small roads with little traffic, everyone stops. On major roads with a lot of traffic, almost no one stops, go figure.

I’m dropped off at the turn off for Khor Virap and begin walking once again, despite the fact that it’s only a few hours from sunset and I have no real plan for where to sleep for the night. My priest’s blessing will take care of me.

A convoy of three cars passes, one of them slows down, stops, then drives off. Odd.

I hitch on the back of a motorbike and finally arrive at Khor Virap four hours after leaving.

Khor Virap

The driver of the car that stopped and then drove off approaches me.

Driver: Hello, sorry we didn’t stop for you.

Me: No problems.

Driver: We wanted to, but we really had no room in the car.

Me: It’s cool.

Driver: Where are you staying for the night?

Me: Not sure yet, I’ll find something.

Driver: It’s decided, you will stay with us.

This exchange is a very typical example of Armenian hospitality. We head back to their place and begin dinner and a “few” drinks.

Closest to the camera, Amas, the driver who apologised to me for not giving me the lift. On the left Karen (pronounced Car-en and not like the woman’s name), Tolik and Lenya. At the far end of the table, Hendrick, the uncle of Amas and the father of Aras, the man in the far right in the red shirt with his arm around Sergei. Next to myself, Arsen in red and Vartam Petrovich. The photo was taken after several bottles of Apricot vodka were consumed…

The following morning after waking up, the group ask me where I’m going for the day. I tell them that I’m going to Noravank. They tell me that I’m not, instead, I will go with them into the mountains. They will slaughter a sheep, we will eat it, drink more and be merry.

How can anyone resist an invitation like that?