Ragnar's World: Crossing borders

"Passport please". I don't know why, but I just love crossing a new border. It is like opening a giftwrapped box. There is no telling what's inside. The stamp I get, a permission to open the box. Like a child, I open it up. At first, I find a new stamp. Maybe a nice visa. Next, new money. Colours, names, images. New language. Maybe even new alphabet. New customs. New behaviour. This is the story of such a crossing.
I got up early today. The bus for Yerevan would leave around 7. I had a quick clean-up before I headed out. When I got to the door downstairs, It was locked with a chain and padlock. I got upstairs again. Knocked on the reception window. Some movement behind the curtain. And some mumbling. A minute later, a drowzy face came out the door. "I am sorry" I said. She waved me off. "No worry!" She unlocked the doors and bid me a nice trip.
At the bus station, I was expecting a bus to arrive at 7, but everybody kept telling me "No bus! Marshrutka!". I waited until the marshrutka was leaving. No bus. So I jumped in. 6-7 hours on a marshrutka wasn't quite what I had expected. But I accepted that there might not be enough customers for a full bus. The driver stopped at a number of places, dropping off cargo and people, and picking up more of both. Then, we stopped at a small town in the middle of nowhere. We were all transferred to pimp-mobile numero uno in Armenia. Complete with blue LEDs under the door, and leather upholstery. Even in the roof... And a serious stereo. I would have smiled, if it wasn't for my stomach trying to tell me that the last week's travelling had taken its toll. Tourist stomach. I had already swallowed a pill to try to calm my interior a bit. Didn't help. Then one more. To no avail. I realized that I wouldn't be able to hold it to Yerevan. Next chance of relief was the border.
We arrived the Georgian exit check. I lined up, showed the officer my passport. After carefully scrutinizing the passport and the stamp, I got the exit stamp. Then the next issue at hand. I asked for a toilet. I was shown to a small house on the other side of the road. The door was of course, not possible to lock. I am not the most shy guy in situations like these. I tried to forget how the floor looked. Only tried to keep my trousers from touching it. After a careful balancing act, I managed to do my deeds. It was literally a relief. The marshrutka was waiting when I emerged. Fully refreshed, and happy as a puppy with a toy.
Arriving at the Armenian side, I and two French tourists wer shown into the "Visa"-room. A very polite officer gave us each a form to fill in. I jotted down all my details, and handed him the form and my passport. "Where you stay Armenia? Address?" he wanted to know. I lifted my shoulders. "No clue!". He pointed to the empty field in the form. I wrote "Yerevan". He was satisfied. "How you pay? Money or change?" he asked. "I have to change money". I only had Georgian liras, dollars and euros. "No problem", he said. Then my driver arrived, and spoke to the officer. He wanted a move on. The officer filled in my visa first. "3000 dram" he said. "You pay him, he pay me." I was to pay the driver when I managed to change money, and he would pay the officer. "Sooo. I will pay the driver and he will pay you?". "Yes". OK. That's a first! Visa on credit. He gave me my passport and bid me safe jouney and welcomed me to Armenia.
Next, passport check. The driver rushed me to one of the boots and pushed away the others standing in line. "Here! Come! Passport!". I felt a bit awkward passing everybody else in line. But they didn't seem to mind. Just smiled and laughed in between each other. The officer checked my fresh visa, and stamped my passport. Welcome to Armenia.
Then we drove on. The landscape changed. Big sky, I believe the word is. Long, sloping hills of green. Long and winding roads taking us into the valleys of Armenia. I took a few photos through the window. Filmed some. A beautiful Armenian girl sat on the opposite side. When I took out my camera, she started prepping her hair. A lot. I smiled secretly. I have no idea who she thought I might be. Or what. Anyways. There was other types of landscape I was more interested in. So I let her be.
After about an hour after crossing the border, we stopped to drop off some tyres. And a guy the driver obviously did business with on a rgular basis came forth and I could change money. I gave the driver 3000 drams for the visa. And changed some euros and the rest of my liras. Fresh money. Loved it.
At around one in the afternoon, we finally arrived in Yerevan. The driver dropped me off at the bus station. A taxi driver came forward and asked me the obvious question. "Taxi?". I gave him an address, and he gave the price of 2000 dram. I thought that sounded fare, so I accepted. Next shock. He led me to his taxi, which proved to be a Mercedes S500. Not an old, rusty wreck, but a beautiful, sleek, black, well kept Merc. I dropped my bags in the trunk and got in the front seat. Ah! Loved it! Made me miss my own Merc a bit. The feeling of floating on velvet through the streets of Yerevan. As opposed to the rattling, bumping ride of the marshrutkas. It was a wonderful ride through a large part of Yerevan before we arrived at Hostel Envoy. A popular stay in Yerevan. I slid out of the Merc and got my bags. Dropped the driver 2000 drams and entered the reception.
"You got a room for me?" I asked. "I can guarantee that we don't, but let me check." the girl behind the desk said with a sympathetic smile. She checked the computer. "Nope. Sorry. Nothing for tonight. But do you mind a homestay?". I shook my head. "Ok, I will call her and ask. You just go downstairs and help yourself to some coffee and use the internet if you want. I will call for you when I know more. I thanked her and went downstairs. Dropped my bags on the floor and logged in to check my mail. After half an hour, she sent me to a spot where a woman would meet me. I stood there for a few minutes before an elderly lady came up to me. "You from hostel?" she asked. I nodded. "Come. I no speak...aaaa...english good!" "No problem!" I said and smiled. She led me through some streets before we arrived at her flat. This was REAL homestay. An old apartment in a rundown block of flats. She had two rooms for rent for tourists. I am sharing my room with another guy. I have to go through her living-room to get to the room. Breakfast when I want. Eggs, whatever, she assured me. This is a new for me. I stayed in the house of Dodo in Tblisi. But that was sort of a closed off part of the house. This is actually in someone's home. Interesting new experience. Love it! :-)
There is a lot of this going around in these countries. A way of making a living. They have the space, so why not? And they get some sort of company. I didn't get any keys. "I home! You knock, I open! One, two clock. No problem!" Well, she has to be out some time. So I guess she will be home most of the day. Not always. But I reckon I will have to adapt. No problem. The ability to quickly adapt is, after all, one of the differences between humans and animals.
And that is one thing I love about travelling. I feel like a goldfish. Wherever I go and whichever direction I look, there are new things to see, new experiences to be had. New challenges. And new stories.
I hope you enjoy mine.