“Hello.. Ian…wake up! Are you coming on the tour? We’re leaving in 2 minutes”.

 

SHIT. I’ve overslept and the tour group are in the hostel reception patiently waiting for me. I somehow manage to throw on some clothes, brush my teeth, and make a pathetic attempt to make it look like I haven’t been dragged, kicking and screaming from my casket.

 

Marina, our tour guide, makes repeated attempts at small talk, in an attempt to build rapport. In my bleary-eyed, post, sleep haze, all I can see is a massive talking coffee cup. I smile and play along, not having the heart to reveal to the group that I’m not a morning person.

 

There are four of us on the tour. A nice couple, Fraser and Hannah (from Scotland and The US respectively) and an older Canadian guy (whose name wasn’t important enough to remember). Team Canada is way too awake for this time in the morning and asks a barrage of questions.  I stare desperately out of the window, as we drive past a multitude of coffee houses.

 

Our first stop on the tour is an underground subway station and we’re led down a flight of steps. There a few assorted newsagents, market stalls and clothes stores selling knock off Nike trainers. We turn a corner and we’re led up some more steps leading to a cosy bakery.

 

We’re offered a seat, as our tour guide, Marina excitedly tells us we are to try some latkes. The bakery lady proudly dumps two large plates of potato and flour ‘pancakes’ on the table. One is the savoury option and the other is the sweet version, coated in powdered icing sugar.  

 

‘Come on and try everyone’’ Marina encourages, excitedly.

 

I smile sweetly, chewing politely on the pancake  (praying that perhaps there is some hidden moisture a few bites in). I pray again that perhaps a large cappuccino will arrive at the table to wash it down. I manage half of the chewy pancake, affirm how very delicious it is, and announce that I am indeed, sadly, full. 

 

I am impressed and slightly envious, as Hannah smugly finishing the savoury one and begins demotion work on the sweet version. 

 

Back in the tour van, we career through the hectic Yerevan streets, in the never ending stream of tail to tail traffic. Our driver aggressively weaves through the array of clapped out cars and motorbikes.  He accelerates suddenly and the lurch throws us around like popcorn kernels. I contemplate my lack of life insurance policies and pray the latkes won’t make an encore.

 

A few minutes later we arrive at Yerevan Central train station. It’s a magnificent Soviet style building, the interior of which is more in keeping with a church, with it’s architecture and high domed ceiling. Trains apparently run only to the country’s second city Gyumri, and to Tbilisi, Georgia. The rail stock that zooms through looks like it has come from the 70s.

 

It’s now time for a brief ride on the city’s metro system (which you’d be forgiven for thinking hadn’t evolved much from conception). Apparently, during Soviet times, the powers that be, faked an all day traffic jam in the centre, to exaggerate the need for a metro. Like most of the pavements and buildings in Yerevan - it feels half finished, but has a certain charm. I can relate.

 

Next on the tour, following a 15 minute drive from the city, we’re taken to an abandoned Soviet chemical factory. There’s something wonderfully haunting about it. I picture life as a communist factory worker. Dark clouds are looming overhead, and it feels like we’re characters in a dystopian thriller. I ponder that this would be the perfect place for one of those mobile coffee vans…

 

The tour takes us onto a traditional Armenian market, nicknamed ‘Bangladesh’ by the locals. It’s a large warehouse, crammed with various stalls and sellers. The market certainly does have its own aroma, shall we say? I secretly hope environmental health aren’t due for a visit.

 

Everywhere I look there are banana boxes, stacked full of various foodstuffs, in various states of delayed decomposition. There are a multitude of proud looking Armenians, parading their various food offerings. The tour serves us up some traditional Armenian snacks. First up is some fresh cheeses, wrapped up with the large flat Armenian bread, Lavash. I’m not a fan of sheep’s cheese but the bread is iconic.

 

After traversing through some more stalls, we’re offered an ‘Armenian Snickers’ - essentially walnuts coated in a sticky sweet coating, hung up like sausages (don’t laugh). It’s definitely an acquired taste. We wander back to the van, as the remainder of my snack, slips through my fingers onto the grubby market floor. Whoops. I’m so clumsy.

 

Next, our magical mystery tour takes us onto some Soviet housing blocks, on a hill overlooking the city. Marina explains that these are shaped in the initials of CCCP (USSR). Apparently housing and living space were an economy in Soviet times, I guess some things never change. In the centre of each apartment block are playgrounds and little meeting places. There is something very idealistic and strangely alluring about communist life, however, I shudder at the thought of families being crammed into one bedroom flats.

 

Our final stop on the tour is the abandoned Children's railway station. It’s a magnificent building, although sadly some of the stained glass windows have since been looted. We wander along the railroad tracks, passing the abandoned train, covered in graffiti. I suspect that in years to come this will become a very trendy place to dine.  Alongside the track, the river winds around a natural gorge, here someone has constructed a random swimming pool and some makeshift gym equipment.

 

Following some steps up to the main road, we’re led into a very long, never ending, dark tunnel, which leads us a few roads away from the hostel. It’s time to finally get that coffee!

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