by Kirsten Ilajas
It felt like going out of prison. Free at last – free to go inside the boarding gate, to present my passport at the immigration, to buy overpriced water, and finally. to walk down the aircraft’s aisle.
It had been almost two years since I traveled somewhere. I was so thrilled.
The pandemic had clipped the wings of travelers for a long time. Due to this, passengers were excited to board the plane and be in a different place.
I arrived at Armenia at around two in the morning. It felt strange at first. With the Covid situation, I was hesitant to talk to people or even ask for directions. As I arrived at dawn, it was also hard to find someone from whom I could ask directions.
I relied on Google Maps and thought it was safe because I did not have to talk to people or ask for help. Unfortunately, I got no reception from the SIM card that I bought at the airport. No data. No Calls. No Google Maps.
So, I rode a local taxi and tried to strike up a conversation with the driver. The driver did not speak English, and neither did he have internet access. To make things worse, the hostel I booked was not familiar. I was doomed.
We cruised the streets of Yerevan at dawn and asked for directions to the hostel. The traffic lights were blinking. We passed through monuments that I have seen on the internet. The roads were empty. We passed through Republic Square and then gone out of the car to ask around.
The only thought in my head was – I hope we meet someone who knows the way.
We had asked around and even stopped at different hostels to check if it was the right place.
I was scared. I haven’t traveled solo for quite a long time. Plus, I haven’t talked to people I just met, let alone ask for favors to check their Google Maps for the location or borrow their phone to call the hostel.
After about two hours of touring Yerevan on an old Corolla with a driver who only says “okay” and “nyet,” someone finally knew where the place was and gave us the correct directions. An annoyed landlady who had woken up from multiple calls from different numbers greeted me.
From day one, I had met different people. I met and befriended locals, travelers, some expatriates, and nomads. The people I had the chance to meet were leading separate lives. They spoke different languages and came from diverse cultures, but all of them were eager to help and guide a solo traveler who often gets lost.
Once, when I was joining a bus tour, the old lady sitting next to me offered a whole pack of breadsticks. Although we did not understand each other, she pointed toward the mountains and forest views that can be seen from the window. Maybe, what she wanted to say was: Look and do not miss the beautiful scenery. An Armenian lady I also met during the trip gave me a piece of Gata, a baked delicacy made from her home. She described how it was made and had invited me to her hometown in Garni if ever I come back to Armenia.
When I was riding the train to Gyumri, the local couple sitting next to me would translate the stations in English. They made sure I knew where to stop.
At the Vartanant’s Square, a lady offered to take my photo at the monument when she noticed that I had struggled to take it from my tripod. However, to my embarrassment, the 10-second timer was still on when she took the photo. We ended up laughing and chatting for a while. She asked where I came from, what I was doing in Gyumri, and wished me luck on my travels.
Every time I would ask for directions and could not speak Armenian or Russian, the people would struggle to translate instructions; they would take their time to show me the way.
The landlady, whom I thought was rude at first, brought me fruits and sweets and made sure I was comfortable. They would call the group tours to book a seat on the bus for me. They made sure I enjoyed the field trip. They would tell me stories about the places that we were about to visit.
However, my favorite encounter would be that with a stranger, who is now a dear friend, who guided me to a few places that I would not have discovered if not for her.
The library coffeeshop tucked and hidden in the alleys;
The shops at Vernissage where she told me to haggle for souvenirs so I ended up having great discounts;
And one night, when I was strolling around and decided to climb up the Cascade, she had virtually guided me. I was about to stop climbing up the stairs when I saw the fence blocking the way to the top. I was tired and ready to call it a day, but then, she pushed me to find the way and told me that the climb and effort I already exerted deserved the best view at the top.
Indeed, after 572 steps, sweat, swearing, and following people – I reached the top of the Cascade.
It was summertime, yet the cold breeze was gently kissing my face. I could see Mother Armenia from afar, guarding her city. I could see people crossing the streets – the cars that were in tune with the changing traffic lights and the sounds and sights of the busy yet calm Yerevan blinking and enticing me to stay.
More than just the scenery, the historical places, the architecture, the food, and things that would convince people to visit a country, I have learned that the best takeaways from any trip are the human connections, shared experiences, and friendships that you find along the way.
The different places that we get to see and discover are amazing – but the stories of how we found them or the anecdotes that we associate with these places will always go back to the people we’ve met.
The pandemic may have stopped us from searching for these connections and made us distant from people, but one day, like how I have found my way in Yerevan, we can get through this. One day, we can sit next to each other again – close, unbothered with masks – sharing stories.
