Our first stop was next to the restaurant where we are last night, to climb 182 steps to a monastic complex on what used to be an island in Lake Sevan before the Soviets lowered the water level. The older and smaller of the two surviving churches is also the more attractive externally.
The larger church has an interesting “Saviour Khachkar” with a central panel showing Jesus on the cross
and the bottom part showing the redemption of Adam and Eve.
Unusually, the walls of the monks’ cells can be seen between the two churches
and above them are ruins of the oldest church, from the 4th century.
We drove through the Dilijan tunnel, coming out into lush woodland, and walked up to the Hagartsin monastery.
A large refectory had a photo exhibition, and the small chapel of St Gregory the Enlightener was illuminated by an ocular window casting a rainbow on the floor.
But the real treat was a church service in progress, with monks in rich vestments (and one in black), a woman cantor and a congregation who joined in the singing. The curtain was drawn back, and the president knelt on the edge of the raised sanctuary to administer communion. Later there was more singing, and much blessing, and the congregation came forward to kiss the book – at which point I had to leave, trying to walk backwards in the Armenian custom, and feeling much blessed.
Into Dilijan for a large lunch at a smart café. I was almost the only one to finish the main course of salads and dolma.
We then visited a family in a Molokan village, served with tea from a samovar 130 years old, in the house where the husband had been born. This Russian emigré community may be so-called because they do not give up milk for Lent. They had neat gardens growing various crops, and a pool full of frogs.
Then followed a long drive along some very bad roads, to reach an isolated hotel at 6. Too full for another big meal, I ate up the remains of food from Yerevan and a potato pie (tastier than it sounds) from the Russian tea table.
emeritablog: life after work 