Roland and I move out towards Armenia next day. A church father gives us a ride, fully clad in his official garment. He drops us at the highway where he going off towards a small village. But he too gets out of his car and persists in stopping cars for us. We try to explain to him that he really doesn't need to do this, but he continues.
"Your definitely on the safe side hitchiking with a priest in Georgia" we laugh
Blessed be our journey. But only one car stops. The driver gets out to get the priests hug, kiss and blessings and goes on again. He finally shows us that he is running late for an appointment and leaves us.
We continue to the Guguti border, walking a long way. We pass towns in which wallnuts are being harvested and we get given many bunches by the locals. A farmer passes with his cart, pulled by a donkey and gives us apples. As night falls we reach the border, where Akaki, a policeman on the Georgian side engages us in an extensive talk about his wish to travel. We share our experiences. On the Armenian side the policeman that gives us our Visas, Karem, opens up an empty housing container, the type you see for the workers on building sites, for us to use at our will. There is no shop around and we knock at a door of a house near the border. The man apologizes that he can give us no bread, but gives us delicious Armenian conserves of vegetables. We have dinner in the container.
"So what is your dream for life?" I ask Roland
"I don't know, I don't really find the time to think about these things usually" Roland replies "To have a family I suppose."
I am surprised.
But then Roland continues: "I don't know if this makes any sense to you, but I get these moments sometimes, maybe once every two or three weeks, in which I kind of . . . dissociate. Its hard to explain. Its like I dissolve and there is just oneness. Its like a higher state of consciousness I guess."
I suspect something great: "It definitely makes sense to me". But the mood in which Roland expresses the experience does not seem familiar to me. So I wish to clarify:
"Do you get this when you are walking, doing exercise, talking to others, or what?"
"No, now that I think about it, it only happens when I am sitting quietly, not doing anything else."
"Since when do you have these experiences" I ask further.
"I remember experiencing this since my childhood. I don't know . . . I'm not sure if it's something common, or something peculiar to me."
"It's definitely nothing common, but your definitely not alone with these experiences either." I reply. "Have you not talked about this to others?"
"I've only started mentioning it to others recently and nobody really seems to understand."
I tell Roland of my own story, fascinated at the wild diversity of experiences and expressions coming from the One fountainhead.
"Is it positive?" I attempt to get a clearer understanding Roland's point of view.
"I guess so" Roland answers hesitatingly.
"Does it feel good?"
"I don't know . . . when I think about it I can't really put it into words at all"
"The Tao that can be put into words is not the real Tao" I remember the words of Laotzu.
After a long pause Roland finally adds: "It's like I see what drives humanity onwards, what is the driving force of humanity . . . it's like understanding the happenings of the world, the acts of humankind from a universal point of view. It's like seeing a grand sense in it all."
We return to Karem to ask if we can refill our water bottle. Karem gives us water, but also pours vodka into shot glasses.
"We toast to the trinity" Karem proposes.
"I don't want to drink" I say.
"To the father" Karem toasts.
We drink. He pours another shot.
"I really don't want to drink" I say.
"Me too" Karem answers. "To the son"
We drink. He pours a third shot.
"I don't want to drink" I say again emphatically.
"Me too" Karem again replies.
"Then why do you drink?"
"Because it's tradition . . . To the holy ghost"
We drink.
"So is this what life is like on the border?" I ask.
"Only when I'm on duty" Karem replies.
The next day Karem waits until we pack up the tent and takes us to Vanadzor. From there we continue to Dilijan, where we stay for two nights at a pleasant B&B. In soviet times cinematographers and authors used to come here to work in peace and soak up inspiration from the beautiful natural surroundings.
Roland and I hitchike to Parz Lake and hike from there to Gosh village. The majority of the trees in the picturesque village are either apple or plum trees and we set up our tent in the garden of a family, which is just picking buckets of apples from the ground. We help. The next morning the whole garden is covered again. We visit Goshavank monastery and admire the awesome stonework of the katchkars, the ancient stone tablets, in the cemetery of the village. On one I notice the same downward-pointing, five-petaled lotus as is allegedly found on the talismans and woodwork of the Siberian shamans.
After a two day hike in the direction of Lake Sevan, we reach the town of Semyonovka from where he hitchike to Sevan. We set up our tent at the lake. Next morning, just as we are getting out of the tent afisher rows his paddle bat to the shore and calls over to us. He Throws us four fish, round, healthy-looking carp. We are just finishing to fillet one of these when two men, Keram and Hamlet invite us to their house close to the shore. We fry our fish in their kitchen; never have I had such sweet fish in my life! We eat well and have a long discussion about the relationship between Armenians and the Turkish, our travel experiences, beliefs and life philosophies.
"Religions are for the weak. The strong find hold in themselves; they trust only in themselves." Keram says "There is no truth in religions. Truth is in the hands, in our daily work. There are so many idiots and bad people around us. It is our responsibility to take care of our children, create a caring environment for them and take care of the house and neighborhood.
I show Kerams nephew, Hamlet Jr., some Aikido and after Hamlets and Kerams recommendations for what to see in Yerevan, we depart for the capital.
"Your definitely on the safe side hitchiking with a priest in Georgia" we laugh
Blessed be our journey. But only one car stops. The driver gets out to get the priests hug, kiss and blessings and goes on again. He finally shows us that he is running late for an appointment and leaves us.
We continue to the Guguti border, walking a long way. We pass towns in which wallnuts are being harvested and we get given many bunches by the locals. A farmer passes with his cart, pulled by a donkey and gives us apples. As night falls we reach the border, where Akaki, a policeman on the Georgian side engages us in an extensive talk about his wish to travel. We share our experiences. On the Armenian side the policeman that gives us our Visas, Karem, opens up an empty housing container, the type you see for the workers on building sites, for us to use at our will. There is no shop around and we knock at a door of a house near the border. The man apologizes that he can give us no bread, but gives us delicious Armenian conserves of vegetables. We have dinner in the container.
"So what is your dream for life?" I ask Roland
"I don't know, I don't really find the time to think about these things usually" Roland replies "To have a family I suppose."
I am surprised.
But then Roland continues: "I don't know if this makes any sense to you, but I get these moments sometimes, maybe once every two or three weeks, in which I kind of . . . dissociate. Its hard to explain. Its like I dissolve and there is just oneness. Its like a higher state of consciousness I guess."
I suspect something great: "It definitely makes sense to me". But the mood in which Roland expresses the experience does not seem familiar to me. So I wish to clarify:
"Do you get this when you are walking, doing exercise, talking to others, or what?"
"No, now that I think about it, it only happens when I am sitting quietly, not doing anything else."
"Since when do you have these experiences" I ask further.
"I remember experiencing this since my childhood. I don't know . . . I'm not sure if it's something common, or something peculiar to me."
"It's definitely nothing common, but your definitely not alone with these experiences either." I reply. "Have you not talked about this to others?"
"I've only started mentioning it to others recently and nobody really seems to understand."
I tell Roland of my own story, fascinated at the wild diversity of experiences and expressions coming from the One fountainhead.
"Is it positive?" I attempt to get a clearer understanding Roland's point of view.
"I guess so" Roland answers hesitatingly.
"Does it feel good?"
"I don't know . . . when I think about it I can't really put it into words at all"
"The Tao that can be put into words is not the real Tao" I remember the words of Laotzu.
After a long pause Roland finally adds: "It's like I see what drives humanity onwards, what is the driving force of humanity . . . it's like understanding the happenings of the world, the acts of humankind from a universal point of view. It's like seeing a grand sense in it all."
We return to Karem to ask if we can refill our water bottle. Karem gives us water, but also pours vodka into shot glasses.
"We toast to the trinity" Karem proposes.
"I don't want to drink" I say.
"To the father" Karem toasts.
We drink. He pours another shot.
"I really don't want to drink" I say.
"Me too" Karem answers. "To the son"
We drink. He pours a third shot.
"I don't want to drink" I say again emphatically.
"Me too" Karem again replies.
"Then why do you drink?"
"Because it's tradition . . . To the holy ghost"
We drink.
"So is this what life is like on the border?" I ask.
"Only when I'm on duty" Karem replies.
The next day Karem waits until we pack up the tent and takes us to Vanadzor. From there we continue to Dilijan, where we stay for two nights at a pleasant B&B. In soviet times cinematographers and authors used to come here to work in peace and soak up inspiration from the beautiful natural surroundings.
After a two day hike in the direction of Lake Sevan, we reach the town of Semyonovka from where he hitchike to Sevan. We set up our tent at the lake. Next morning, just as we are getting out of the tent afisher rows his paddle bat to the shore and calls over to us. He Throws us four fish, round, healthy-looking carp. We are just finishing to fillet one of these when two men, Keram and Hamlet invite us to their house close to the shore. We fry our fish in their kitchen; never have I had such sweet fish in my life! We eat well and have a long discussion about the relationship between Armenians and the Turkish, our travel experiences, beliefs and life philosophies.
I show Kerams nephew, Hamlet Jr., some Aikido and after Hamlets and Kerams recommendations for what to see in Yerevan, we depart for the capital.
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