Tsaghkadzor

Try pronouncing it. English native speakers will struggle to get just the right gutteral inflection. It goes something like "Zock - hot - soar." Sort of. Better, it means "gorge of flowers."

That's where we headed this weekend, about one hour NNW out of Yerevan on the same road we took to Dilijan. Denise provided training to trial lawyers on a model of standards for evaluating misconduct, as part of the continuing legal education offered by the ABA Rule of Law Project. I slept, walked, read, and loved watching Danny Craig do Casino Royale in Russian on TV. We also enjoyed a beautiful indoor swimming pool and plentiful food representing all the famous Armenian fat groups.

As in Vermont, this time of year in the mountains of Armenia could be called "stick season." No flowers, no snow. The brown leaves still hanging on some trees serve as perfect foils for the bright gold poplar sentinels planted in rows leading to somewhere many years ago.

Smoked fish for sale in a small grocery

Off-season ski towns always strike me (a non-skier) as a scene I shouldn't be seeing--like the inside of someone else's closet. Without a blanket of snow and cheerful skiers, they show the dust and rust, begrimed windows, and the skeletons of outdoor cafes. Nothing much is open and one wonders how the year-rounders can stand it.

Winter view of Lake Sevan from the slopes at Tsaghkadzor

But Tsaghadzor knows winter sports at the Olympic level. The Soviets trained for the 1988 Calgary Winter Olympics here and dominated in the medal count, followed closely by East Germany. (Some of you remember the days of the dreaded "Russian Judges.")





The ski season begins in December and runs through March and into April along the eastern slope of Mount Tegenis, 6000 ft+ above sea level--and with views of Lake Sevan to the east. The map of trails and chair lifts painted on a wall near the lift told me that at the top of the "black" runs the altitude is 2918 m above sea level.

Atrium of the Russia Hotel

Armenians generally do not flock to the slopes. For one thing, skiing is a relatively expensive sport and too many Armenians are at the low end of the income distribution curve.. For another Tsaghkhadzor has not until recent years been developed enough to encourage visitors. But Armenia wants to attract foreign skiers who expect more amenities. The new Russia Hotel (where we stayed) and a very spread-out new Marriott, as well as countless condo developments now under construction, may be the answer. Another ski resort is being developed in NW Armenia. Neighboring Georgia is a ski destination and the principal competition, with its claim to higher peaks in the Caucasus Mountains.

Check it out--full pints of brandy and vodka in the mini-bar

Apart from the slopes, the village offers the Kecharis church/monastery and the Orbeli Brothers Museum. Archeological studies show that monastic activity began at Kecharis (as the village was once named) as early as the 5th C. The present large church and two other buildings date from the 11-12th C. When we arrived by foot late on Saturday afternoon a baptism had just been performed, the baby in a long white dress and sweet eyelet cap that tied under her chin. The grass in the church grounds looked green and well-kept, the snapdragons and petunias still giving it their all, their beds well-tended.

Candles are lit in each building by visitors

Oldest portions of Kecharis

Orbeli Boys

The Orbeli Brothers House Museum was irresistible. Right next door is a triple bust of the brothers anchoring a square and now-dry fountain. The Orbeli boys, Rouben, Levan, and Joseph, came from a long line of wealthy and well-educated men. They had a Russian princess in their genealogy somewhere. All three continued the tradition, one of them founding the field of marine archeology. Unfortunately for me, the whole museum is in Armenian and Russian, featuring primarily framed printed materials and photographs. The few pieces of furniture included beautiful wood desks (one standing desk) and sofas that looked like they dated to the early 20th C.

Walking around the village by myself in the early afternoon left me feeling a little down. Partly it was that November thing--let's face it, it's a downer of a month if you live anywhere north of the 38th parallel. Second, despite my desire to do so, there was no place to spend money.

The village square, now completely abandoned, is decorated with public art, some whimsical, some very solemn.

But I was also struck by the wide disparities in housing. Large, walled, and recently built homes stood out in sharp contrast to the more numerous very run down plots with the detritus of decades lying about at the edges of vegetable gardens now giving up enormous cabbages. It seemed to me the essence of "eking out a living."

Only restored house

I saw only one house that looked as if it has been restored before being expanded out the back into a large guest house.

Helping the landscapers at the hotel

Keeping the trees trimmed

Cows wander freely, eating their way through the shrubs and low-hanging tree branches. They head home at milking time and then head back out afterwards, some times alone, usually in small groups. It occurred to me to wonder if they had a "home when the street lights come on" rule.

Going home for milking

Back at home in Yerevan we headed for the Green Bean Cafe for lunch, enjoying a warm fall day--the kind I keep thinking are going to end any day now.