Tag: yerevan

Trip Around the World 2003. Part 6. In Armenia, a guide is after me and I visit the flight deck of a Siberian Airlines TU-154. “It’s old” they said.

And so it goes on for two days. It was supposed to be two and half but have you ever heard of an airline rescheduling its flight no less than 14 hours EARLIER than your ticket? Well Siberia Airlines did and I was not happy. Instead of departing at 1630, we are now going the same day, but at 0230. That is not my fave time of day and it cut down on vital time here. But there was no escape. (I did find out later when 1 went to the airport to see what the aircraft handling would be like, that everyone was resked, as they were doing runway work for three weeks, which may also have accounted for the plowed field that we landed on – and more worrying too. which we will try to take off from again. I DO worry about these things and just hoped that will remember to take all their equipment out of the way.

We spent two action packed days seeing what there was and it’s not bad. Yerevan would be quite a pretty place if they were not digging the whole town up. It has been decreed that the trams must be gone, so all the old lines are being removed, which of course is sad, as they give character as well as being a cheap and fuel efficient and non polluting way to move the masses around. Probably they are seen as backward and we want modernity. Pity that someone didn’t tell them that places like Zurich still have them and would not give them up for anyone. But that will all be over by the time we arrive, but made it difficult for me to work out accurate times of how long from here to there.  By the time we leave home on the these trips, it is all timed down to the minute.

Two tour guides became attached to our mini expedition.  One Lily (and of course very dark of hair and eyes) and another whose name defeated me. Both young, lots of make up of course. I had them giggling pretty soon and they said afterwards that they had not had such a good time showing the sights ever and I was welcome back any time. The said Lily I suspected, was also after shall we say, other pleasures, as I suddenly got the wink and a very direct LOOK and she had to sit next to me at dinner and all that sort of stuff.  She tried a bit of footsie and a hand on thigh at one stage. It was too late to invent the wife and kids and grandchildren, which I have been known to concoct when necessary, so I played very hard to get, which revved her up a bit more … oh dear. In the end, when the dinner conversation was going full blast, I looked at her in my best old geezer way and firmly muttered “Stop it” and she did.  I also got to meet Elvira’s daughter, another Sasha.  She is 17 going on 40.  Such a chip off the old block, it is spooky.  But they are both around the same size, as Sasha does have a spare tire too and they must have an interchangeable wardrobe.  Sasha can also pout big-time.  When you put the two of them together, it is a really frightening sight.  Mother had the most mascara over the long false eyelashes and Sasha had the most lipstick, which was frequently being reapplied. 

I was shown incredible old Orthodox churches (Armenia is v proud of being Christian since the 3rd century when the rest of us were practically living in caves). The main church was fabulous as it was Sunday and there was a service and we joined the masses. So easy to move around in churches here as there is no furniture in the orthodox world, as you stand the whole time. The bishop or whoever he was, was robed in full glory and everyone was kissing the ring and the crucifix around his neck and a generally good time being had by all. There was a women’s choir, all draped in lacy mantilla like things and looking on the verge of tears and best of all were the monk types who not only wore robes, but large black cowls pulled up over their heads. If you remember the Monty Python skit about the Spanish Inquisition, well that was exactly what they looked like and I nearly disgraced myself when I worked where I had seen them before.  And to show respect, you must remain totally silent inside any church and you walk out of all of them backwards, still facing the altar. They practically had to drag me out as the singing was so fantastic and I made a note to see if we can be sked to be here on a Sunday.  That is why I was there, to think of things like that.

We explored some ruins (a let down) and the museum, less than inspiring apart from a couple of silver chalice like things from the third century which were totally wonderful and worth going to see just for them. We visited the Armenian brandy factory, which was very close to the hotel and I endured a long winded presentation about its history and production and knew immediately that we would not be going there. It didn’t taste all that good either. And we drove miles to a lake, where there was no There, there and a total waste of time (but everyone said how wonderful it was) and I am grinding my teeth cos a lake is a lake is a lake and if it does not have something worthwhile to see, like a vast waterfall or a monster, then it’s not for us.  Why do people get so excited about a large flat piece of water?  But the rolling hills countryside was certainly beautiful.

In town, I found a very cute little local restaurant that we can use for a dinner.  Heavy on atmosphere and we tried the food which was delicious and if they kind of moved the tables a bit closer together then it would be ours for the evening.  The owners were just so peasant and low-key, compared to Elvira who was fairly pushy.  We put the menu together right there and then, as you must not let the locals ever do that, as what They think we should eat might not be what We would like.  They were quite amazed that I would do that right now, so I was always pointing out: That is Why I Have Come.

We were all too soon off to the airport again, after a vast fish meal to keep us going. Hotter than hell and of course a cast of thousands, but half were the see-ers off, but golly it was an oven. We had already been warned that it would be quite likely to have a delay and I had resigned myself to that agony and had noted on the way in that all the seats looked like cast iron, but in the end it was almost on time. Much checking of your passport and then ticket + passport and sometimes just the boarding card and sometimes, all three. We would have been spot on if they had not been missing a pax, so huge amounts of counting and recounting – everyone had a go and got it wrong and I wished that there had been an Air France crew member there, as they are all issued with little clickers and we could have been done much faster. A huge manual loadsheet got sent up front. And then we trundled off down the unmade road and lurched into the air. This was now Siberia Airlines, a new one to me. No one wearing fur or with snow on their boots for sure. The cabin crew looked like a hooker’s outing, in skin tight pants. Well padded Siberians should NOT be wearing such things … on the ski slopes perhaps, but NOT in flight please. Full house again, but Nelly and I frightened anyone out of wanting to sit next to us. I’m getting good at the TU-154 and we knew where to sit. For once, of course, they were sticking to the seat numbers, but Nellie briskly told off the couple who had the madness to think that the seats we were in were actually theirs and they slunk off. Dunno what she said (perhaps that I was a dangerous foreign lunatic..) but it worked.

Around here of course, you are still fed and watered on all flights and this was to be no exception. Nelly is my ears for these flights and I ask her to translate any crew mutters she hears and on this it was the fact that the ovens were not working … none of them I thought ? Seemed kind of odd. So they came around with the trays and they had the usual Russian deal of cold cuts and cheese and several bits of bread and a bitta cake for dessert, so we all scoffed away and when I thought they were bringing the carts down to clear it all away, NO. It was the celebrated foils of hot food, EXCEPT THEY WERE STONE COLD!  I’ve never been on a carrier where I was presented with a genuinely cold hot meal, containing chicken and rice.  Just a solid greasy mass.  And even worse. they all ate it.  Ah me, you just never know what will happen next

So we arrive in Domodedevo airport in Moscow at 0400 local… very posh it is (or will be when they are done) and eventuallee the masses of nylon bags and my solitary case come up on the belt and Nellie and I repair to the one and only airport hotel a few hundred yards away. I discover that although it is fairly new, they forgot that Moscow has long hot summers and air con. would be a good idea, but no such luck. You have to open the big window to get a whiff of hot air and discover that the totally unsilenced old converted bombers, which are called passenger planes now, are all blasting into the luft about 100 yards away. To make it even more fun, the sun is blazing down and there are no curtains, but slatted blinds, so the room is fully lit. Any other complaints? I try to sleep but to no avail. NOTHING IS RIGHT. We had not been supposed to be there until that evening, so now we have a day in Moscow. As Nellie had some errands, we went to the big city together. On the bus and subway train too, as we had the time to spare.

Watch this space for the next action packed installment, including the moment I am traveling on my own and my departing flight disappeared off the screen and I says to myself: “Look out, my flight has just evaporated.

Tim

ps notes from Russian menus … Beef stake, Toung, Eskalopp, Grek brouchette, Trouth, Lam and to wash it all down. Bakardy. Bon ap.

Trip around the world. 2003. Part 5. Welcome to Yerevan, Capital of Armenia. And Elvira, the make-up queen.

Anyway last time I left you was in Samara and it’s semi-nude river bathers. About as far away from La Grande Jatte (if you know what that picture looks like) as you can get.

Me and Nelly eventually escaped in the middle of the night and in a totally packed TU154 (the Russian equiv. of a B727, bigger, but with less power … a great combination, so they have to accelerate like mad and go a great long way down any runway just to get into the air. The fight was AWFUL and I was most happy it only lasted two and a half hours. Packed out with about 150 (half of them children) and Nelly and I fought to keep the seat between us free, more to N’s efforts, who was in her grandmotherly and VERY formal way telling people where to sit. The problem had started with the fact that we had seat numbers and the crew decided in the middle of boarding that it was better to abandon them … would just love to see a BA 747-400 boarding under those circumstances ! So, chaos reigned and the crew hated us all to a man, even before we got off the ground. It was just grim and I was happy to land in Yerevan at some ungodly time in the middle of the night. And it’s a rough runway (why should I be surprised ?) so felt like the wheels had been removed and we were running along on fast eroding legs.

But the worst thing was and this really gave me the willies, was the fact that I saw, as we were skimming over the threshold, that no less than three of these grim looking flight attendants were happily standing up in the longitudinal front galley, with the open flight deck door ahead. Had we landed with a bump (or more of a bump than usual) they would have accelerated fast onto the flight deck and hit those nice big levers that put on the power and we would have gone accelerating to an uncertain end. Boy. did I give them my best black looks when I departed.

Well we are in immigration. I am well prepared with my visa, but of course no one on the plane has given us any forms and form filling in is a way of life, esp. when international travel is concerned. So I looks and looks and there is nothing.  I even have my pen ready. The line at immigration is positively zipping along by Soviet standards, so I lines up, shows the passport, open at the visa, as they will never find it and the man just looks at it and I am IN. What is the world coming to with NO forms? I’m still expecting someone to tap me on the shoulder with a handful of paper, which of course will only be in cyrillic. Bags take ages and when they do come I discover that practically everyone travels with identical bags. Hardly Samsonite or the like, but the thin blue and red striped nylon bags that are a staple of the third world traveler. They are all identical and no one has ever had the idea of putting a bit of ribbon on the handle or painting their name along the side (which I am sure Mrs Amarinda Ghosh of blessed memory would have done), so all is confusion and it is very hot and we have all had enough of the night already. When my big red proper suitcase turns up, it is riding around in state.

The local agents are there to meet and greet. Alexander (or Sasha) and his wife Elvira. Oh my oh my, how I wish you could all see Elvira as she really is a sight for sore eyes (no, probably a sight to GIVE sore eyes).

She is scrag end of mutton done up like lamb chops of the youngest variety. A mid-forties woman tarted up as an 18 year old and boy does it show! Tousled multi-blonde hair, but black roots, about every type of makeup that you can imagine, applied with a trowel and the mascara over the false eyelashes in veritable clumps. Looks like the oil you see on the news washed up on beaches from spills. There was a lot going on there. Lips are full and two or even perhaps three tone. The body is that of a middle aged woman, but we are 100% in denial, so the chest is up and away and there is a cleavage on a par with the Grand Canyon – a vast dark abyss. I try not to stare but can’t help it.  I bet she has a Victoria’s Secrets catalogue at home. The top is black and white knit and around the midriff it is all white see-through, so the spare tire can be appreciated in its full glory. The pants are toreador tight and you can feel the stitching screaming. But the best are the gold shoes.

She is on stilts, with the super pointed mules that everyone here is tottering around in. I wonder why they look vaguely familiar, as who do I know who could even stand up in them, let alone walk ? Then the penny drops… they are out of the Topkapi Museum in Istanbul ! The points at the front were so long that they have become turned up, to give an ever more Ottoman appearance. It just had to be seen to be believed. But having said all that, she was very sweet and we got on tres well. And amusingly enuf, it was battered Arabic that brought us most in contact. It turned out that she worked also for Syrian Airlines, so I called her habibi and we are now mates for life! I just don’t want to go shoe shopping with her, as I saw no less than three of her other pairs and they were all a disaster.

So we are kissed and warmly welcomed and jump into the battered old Lada and lurch into town. Most amazing sight half way was a mini Las Vegas. I kid you not. Lines and lines of garish casinos (casini ?), all with neon running amok even at 5am.. It seems we are big on gambling around here. The Marriott hotel is high on ceilings and has the creature comforts our patrons need. A sort of Armenian Manuel takes me to my room and makes a big production of showing me how to open the door with the card, which I was prolly doing before he was born and I am allowed to collapse for 5 hours, as we have stuff to do.

Time for a break.  Lots more to come.  I meet the daughter. And Lily, who is angling to give me a private tour…. Vera, I hope you have found Armenia on the map ?