Author: rr_admin

That is, the two of us. We arrive in Alexandria from Dubai with a plan to spend a month in Egypt.

The first thing that happens: our binoculars are confiscated! Apparently, they have ‘military applications’. I pity any birdwatching groups entering the country with their expensive binos.

We decide to treat ourselves to a stay at the historic Cecil Hotel. The location is great.

Our hotel is right on the corniche. Modern Alexandria is all about this sea-facing promenade.

It’s lined with bustling cafés and crowds of people day and night.

A pair of Alexandrians find a spot to enjoy the evening.

So does this cat.

Our hotel is ideally situated for exploring the city.

Alexandria, of course, is famous for its great library of antiquity. It has an aspirational modern counterpart in the Bibliotheca Alexandrina.

It’s a magnet for bibliophiles.

Not surprising to see that most of the users are female. Intelligence will be how women advance in these countries.

We visit the catacombs. (Even though they are one of the premier tourist attractions here, our Uber driver spends half an hour circling aimlessly. We get to see some interesting parts of Alexandria, so that’s OK.)

Built in the Greco-Roman era, they’re deep. And Labyrinthine.

There are fancier tombs for the well-off.

And for the humble people, a simple niche.

Like many artifacts of the time, there is an interesting blend of ancient Egyptian and contemporary Hellenistic styles in everything.

We visit the Alexandria National Museum. It’s in the former US consulate.

Alexandria was once full of these elegant Italianate buildings. After Nasser kicked out the numerous cosmopolitan residents – Italians, Greeks, Armenians, French, Jews, etc. – in a fit of strident Arab nationalism, large parts of Alex fell into decay.

Now the streets are crowded with people trying to make a living. The economy of Egypt doesn’t exactly run at peak efficiency.

So far, people have been friendly here, as long as you are not being specifically targeted for some scam or other.

There is a lively market going on in the narrow alleys surrounding Pompey’s Pillar.

Many Egyptians, like most non-Western people, are cruel to dogs. But Egyptians are kind to cats. We wonder if this is a holdover from the cat worship of the their ancestors.

Under what was formerly known as Kom el-Dikka (that is, ‘hill of rubble’), archeologists have excavated a prosperous Roman neighborhood.

This is some ancient graffiti done by the supporter of a chariot-race champion, according to the explanatory plaque.

In the ruins of a nearby villa are some impressive mosaics, including this one of a parrot.

We visit Pompey’s Pillar, in what was the Serapeum of Alexandria in ancient times.

The pillar is all that’s left of a complex that used to look like this:

The Serapeum was also a branch of the famous Library, where anyone could borrow a scroll or two.

One day, we hire a car and driver to visit the area of the Battle of El Alamein. The military museum has some fairly interesting exhibits inside and lots of military equipment salvaged from the desert outside.

Winston Churchill had this to say:

“Before Alamein we never had a victory. After Alamein, we never had a defeat.”

We like to pay our respects at Commonwealth War Graves whenever we come across one. No matter how squalid the country they’re in, they are always impeccably clean.

We find at least one Canadian among the numerous British, Australians, New Zealanders, and South Africans.

It’s a shame that so many young men from around the world came to this distant wilderness to die defending Egypt from a dictatorial torturing warmonger like Hitler, only to have a like-minded dictatorial torturing warmonger like Nasser take over the country less than a decade later.

Because they’re in the same vicinity, we also visit the memorials of the Italians and the Germans. The Italian one is stylish.

The German one is austere.

The time comes to take the train to Cairo. The train station is just a few blocks from our hotel.

The journey takes about two and a half hours. Our car is air conditioned, but kind of grotty.

Sight or Insight of the Day

In the Italian war memorial, we come across the remains of a soldier with the same surname as Maria.

We fly from Muscat to Abu Dhabi in the United Arab Emirates. It takes less than an hour.

See the three tall buildings behind the pinkish tower? Those are the Etihad Towers. Vin Diesel flew a car through all three. Don’t believe me? See for yourself.

My iPhone needs a new battery. As usual, the Apple Store is a marvel of design.

Our first stop is the Louvre Abu Dhabi.

Designed by French architect Jean Nouvel, it features bunker-like temperature controlled exhibition spaces under a lacework dome with lots of places for people to hang out in a relaxed setting.

Nearby, another interesting building is going up. It might be the future Sheik Zayed National Museum.

Hey, they have Tim Hortons in the UAE. Who knew?

This is the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque. Grand might be an understatement.

It’s a gargantuan edifice. (A big building, in plain English.) It’s connected to a giant underground shopping mall. This is actually a natural fit; two things that are plentiful here are mosques and shopping malls.

The columns are inlaid with semi-precious stones.

A woman takes a photo of her daughter, coaching her into this demure pose.

We take a bus from Abu Dhabi to Dubai.

On arrival, Maria has to test a fresh-squeezed orange juice machine. It’s cold and delicious.

The one thing we consider must-see here is the Burj Khalifa, the world’s tallest building. (For now.)

From the top, you get a great view of the city-sized Dubai Mall below.

As well as the rest of the Dubai skyline.

Also in the Dubai Mall is an enormous fish tank, complete with sharks, manta rays, and sawfish.

Another Dubai icon is the Palm Jumeirah, a palm-tree shaped artificial island.

From here you can see another Dubai landmark, the sailboat-inspired Burj Al Arab.

We visit the Gold Suq. Plenty of jewelry on display, but it’s more about the weight than the esthetic quality.

A new attraction in Dubai is the torus-shaped Museum of the Future.

It’s covered in Arabic script. (Quotes from the current Sheik that rules Dubai.) To be honest, the architecture is the best thing about it, despite the steep entrance fee..

The exhibitions about the future are not very convincing. (Personally, I can’t imagine women wearing hijabs a century from now any more than I can imagine women today wanting to wear corsets and bustles.)

On our last day in the UAE, we go to Sharjah, our third emirate. (There are seven.)

Sharjah is much less glitzy than Abu Dhabi and Dubai. More working-class, you could say. Its harbour is full of fishing boats and small freighters.

It resembles the midsized cities of Oman. Not much globally-recognized architecture here.

We’ve come specifically to visit the Museum of Islamic Civilization.

Its numerous artifacts are well-curated. We liked the special exhibition on Arabic calligraphy.

That evening, we board our flight for Alexandria, Egypt.

Sight or Insight of the Day

There is obviously a lot of money sloshing around in these Gulf states. It just seems to me that most of it is frittered away in frivolous vanity projects. Nobody here is committing billions of dollars to cure cancer, or end world hunger, or ensure universal childhood education.

I’ve always thought it a bit strange that during the migration crisis of 2015, the number of refugees taken in around here was, um, zero.

Here are people who share the same language. The same culture. The same religion. Yet notwithstanding a generous amount of financial aid, the number of their Arab brethren they were willing to physically take in was none. Nada. Zilch. Not one.

Considering that all of these countries depend on foreign workers – in the UAE, over 80% of residents are non-Emiratis, mostly South Asians – you’d think they would have been glad to import a few million immediately-assimilable souls.

Our last entry for Oman. From Al Hamra, we head to Jebel Shams, the highest mountain in Oman. On the way, we come across a local specialty: goat-hair carpets woven by local men.

We want to do the Balcony Walk – a hike along the ‘Grand Canyon of Oman’.

Jebel Shams means ‘sun mountain’.

On the road, we spot one of the ubiquitous blue trucks that deliver water to Omani households.

For most of the trek, you are only steps away from a long plunge to the bottom of the canyon.

At the end of the trail is an abandoned village.

The place is the haunt of wild goats. They are obviously used to hikers sharing their provisions.

When we descend the mountain, we explore yet another abandoned village: Wadi Ghul.

We think the simple explanation for the high number of abandoned villages in Oman is that people just found better places to live after the modernizations of the last half-century or so.

Our next stop is the ancient tombs of Al Ayn.

They’re supposed to be 5,000 years old. Even though they are a major historical artifact in Oman, they are extremely hard to track down.

The Rustaq Loop is our next destination. This is a trio of forts that people usually take in together. In our case, we find that two of them are closed for renovations. Only the Al-Hazm fort is open for visitors. It’s pretty impressive.

The fort was the home of the local powerful imam. This is the imam’s leisure room.

While walking around, we are followed by the imam’s cat. (So we call him.) He’s very friendly.

A mystery – in several regions of Oman, we pass walled areas named in English ‘old cemetery’. But inside, we see nothing but rocks. In Islam, most graves are very simple, even for eminent persons. Ostentatious grave markers are rare.

But I read somewhere – and for the life of me, I can’t find this source again – that many Omanis are followers of the Ibadi form of Islam. Some take this simplicity to a somewhat extreme degree. They inter the body and just place a rock in memory. And that’s it.

We can see that this makes sense, in a way. Almost all customs involving passed-on people are designed for the survivors, since the no-longer-living are beyond all that.

Our original plan was to visit the Omani exclave of Musendam. Because it’s detached from the main body of Oman, we have to take a ferry. The ferry itself is very modern and comfortable, but the booking arrangements are a challenge. Can’t book a ticket online. Can’t see the schedule online. Can’t pay online.

We wanted to take Lawrence with us, but by the time we acquire tickets, there is no space for a vehicle. We leave him behind for couple of days in the port of Shinas, where the ferry departs from.

Once the ferry is at sea, they open the observation decks. There are two areas: one for ‘women and families’, and one for men only (like the rest of the boat). This is the normal gender apartheid that prevails in this part of the world.

The main town in Musendam is Khasab. The next day, we take an all-day dhow cruise that includes fjord-viewing and snorkeling.

The dhow is relaxing. It’s a pleasant change to be transported around by someone else.

In some places, we’re accompanied by dolphins.

…and more dolphins.

One of our snorkeling spots is Telegraph Island.

The water is emerald green and abounds in fish.

Maria, as usual, is in her element.

A noteworthy cultural trait in Khasab: every night, scores of smugglers stream across the Strait of Hormuz from Iran in small, speedy boats loaded to the gunwales with sheep and goats. They return with contraband like refrigerators and microwaves.

We return to the mainland on the ferry to Shinas and drive back to Muscat.

Sight or Insight of the Day

After nearly a month in Oman, it’s time to depart. We spend the last few days in Muscat again, where we visit the extravagant Sultan Qaboos Grand Mosque.

On our last day, we take a day trip to the nearby Dimaniyat Islands.

These islands have some of the best snorkeling we have seen since the island of Sulawesi in Indonesia. The absolute best part is the sea turtles! We see at least half a dozen, gracefully floating around and wafting to the surface just past our noses.

We’ve really enjoyed our time here. From a brief stopover a few years ago on our way to Iran, we thought Oman looked like an attractive place to visit. And so it proved.

With a heavy heart, we return Lawrence to the car rental office. We’ve travelled almost 5,000 kilometres together. He joins Uncle Joe, Shorty, and Cardashian on our list of faithful automotive companions for this trip.

From Nizwa, we drive to a place where we spend the night in the desert at the edge of the Sharqiya Sands. (We leave Lawrence behind in a village 12 KMs away and are driven to the camp in a 4WD vehicle.)

Many of these desert-camping places are expensive, and feature luxuries like swimming pools (!) and air conditioning. This one does not. Just a non-air-conditioned tent.

Meals are included, and are served in a covered, rug-strewn dining area.

We go for a sundown drive.

Here are a few desert photos.

We ask our driver, Mohammed, to take our picture. Our tent camp is in the background

Of course, after dark the sky is full of stars. Lots of meteors, too. (And aircraft flying into United Arab Emirates airports at all hours.)

Our next stop is Al Hamra. It turns out that the only reasonably-price accommodation we can find is an entire Omani house. We stay there for three days.

We have the place to ourselves, except for a young Italian woman that stays for a couple of nights.

It’s a good place to get caught up on business.

There’s a lush palm oasis across the street.

Amid the oasis are the ruins of Old Al Hamra.

These abandoned villages are a reminder of what life must have been like here before the oil money started flowing in the 1960’s.

The main attraction is the mountain village of Misfat Al Abriyeen.

Many of the buildings here are built on top of boulders and cliffs.

There are abandoned houses here, too.

Running through the village are water channels that are part of the aflaj system. We see these elsewhere in the country.

It’s the middle of the day by the time we arrive. The temperature is in the mid-thirties Celsius.

The narrow streets are fun to explore.

Sight or Insight of the Day

Nothing very exciting. Just a simple observation.

For some reason, I can’t pass an animal without wanting to give it a pat.

One of our last visits in Salalah is to the Land of Frankincense Museum.

Oman has been a source of the world’s best frankincense for millennia. Most famously in the New Testament.

We would buy some to take home, but we don’t have a cathedral that needs regular censing. Nor does anyone we know.

We head north again. Instead of the coast road through the desert, we now take the central road through the desert. It’s desert all the way. Have we mentioned that we love deserts?

The coast road is quite mountainous and scenic. This route is mostly flat and featureless.

Signs warn of drifting dunes.

You may have heard of ‘forest bathing’. We stop now and then for some ‘desert bathing’: just let the heat, utter silence, and total isolation wash over you.

Mind you, having said that, the way to go is in a well-airconditioned reliable car!

A convoy of Omani military vehicles passes us on the other side. Probably heading for some upcoming National Day event in Salalah.

The stability of Oman stands in stark contrast to the hot mess that is next-door Yemen.

We stop for the night in the Arabian Sands Hotel.

It’s in the village of Haima.

The next morning, I get my haircut on a whim before fueling up Laurence and heading out again. Fuel here is .88 Canadian cents/litre.

One good thing about deserts – they provide material for dozens of cartoons in The New Yorker.

Nizwa is where we spend a few days when we are in the north once more. It’s one of about half-a-dozen towns in Oman that was at one time the capital.

The walls give a good view of the courtyard.

Maria poses with one of the guides.

Note the big-ass knife on the man’s belt. This is a khanjar, standard wear for the well-dressed Omani male.

Some more guides take a break. (The walking sticks are also an Omani thing.)

View over the town of Nizwa.

Maria shows off her new chapeau.

As usual, there is not a cloud in the sky.

A woman prepares a light, fluffy bread that is then drenched in honey.

We visit the Nizwa suq. The indoor food market is the cleanest market building we’ve ever seen. It’s full of men selling (and buying) sugary confections.

There are lots of ceramic pots for sale. They’re made in the nearby city of Bahla.

Sight or Insight of the Day

While we’re in the Nizwa suq, two women approach Maria and say they would like to photograph her for ‘a project’.

Maria complies. She spends the next twenty minutes being snapped by these ladies.

After our turtle-viewing, our goal is the city of Salalah, Oman’s third-biggest city. It’s two days drive through the desert to get there.

We pass through a few fishing villages. The harbour is busy with dhows and other fishing boats.

It’s good to get out of the car and stretch our legs every hour or so.

On the shore, some locals sit around and shoot the breeze. Maria asks if she can take their picture. They’re happy to oblige.

Some industrious types are at work mending their nets.

Like young people everywhere…

At some point, inhabited places are few and far between.

Bedouin encampments dot the land. Like elsewhere in the Middle East, they don’t seem to get much of the oil wealth that’s floating around.

At a gas station, we are greeted by the first friendly dog we’ve seen here. (The first dog, really.) We think he belongs to the owner.

We stop for the night in Duqm, a strange place in the middle of nowhere.

We pass through some stunning, Grand Canyon-esque scenery as we get to the coast again.

We listen to the radio from time to time. Sometimes we pick up what sounds like a non-stop prayer channel. (I’m sure they have those in the USA.) Other times, there’s Omani music with an interesting, drum-backed droning melody, sort of like the oriental-style chorus on Kate Bush’s The Sensual World.

We spend a couple of days in Mirbat in search of places to snorkel.

Salalah – and the south of Oman in general – enjoys monsoon rains in the summer that make it much greener than the rest of the country.

Salalah has no shortage of mosques. At prayer times, it gets pretty loud. It’s like a titanic Battle of the Muezzins five times a day.

In a local supermarket, the variety of dates and date products is mind-boggling.

At Al Haffa Beach, Maria models her do-it-yourself birkini.

Meanwhile, I hold down the fort with Lawrence.

Ad Dahariz is another beach we visit. Many families arrive around sundown.

One day, we drive further down the coast towards the Yemeni border. One beach, Al Mughsail, is nearly deserted.

The beach has several pergolas to keep out of the sun.

One has the following graffiti on it. This is pretty commonly how visitors perceive Omanis.

We carry on to the even-more-secluded Al Fazayah Beach. Maria gets her swimming fix.

I huddle into what little shade there is.

Sight or Insight of the Day

Hamlet: ‘Do you see yonder cloud that’s almost in shape of a camel?’
Polonius: ‘By th’mass, and ‘tis like a camel indeed.’

Let’s hear it for camels!

You really do have to watch out for them on the road. We’ve seen hundreds since we’ve been here.

Seeing some always makes us feel good. Their faces are so endearing.

Sometimes seen alone in an otherwise vast emptiness. Sometimes in large groups.

Camels make the world a better place.

We depart from Muscat.

The dark mountains that cover north Oman make us feel as if we’re exploring another planet. (The surface of Mercury?) Maybe because of the contrast between the white buildings and the blue sky, and the incredible heat.

Our first stop is the Bimmah sinkhole. A good place for a refreshing dip.

Overnight, we stay in Qalhat. This tiny seaside village was once a thriving trading port. Marco Polo visited in 1272 and had this to say:

‘Calatu (his name for Qalhat) is a great city, within a gulf that bears the name of Calatu. The port is very large and good. From this city, spices and other goods are distributed in the interior cities. They also export to India many of the original Arabian horses.’

Now, there lies ‘not one stone atop another’, as Jesus predicted would happen to the Temple in Jerusalem. One of the few structures still standing is the mausoleum of Bibi Maryam, an influential ruler. (And a woman, at that.)

‘That is the way to lay the city flat, to bring the roof to the foundation, and bury all, in heaps and piles of ruin.’ William Shakespeare – Coriolanus

A quiet bay near town gives us an opportunity to try out our new snorkeling gear.

Back at our guesthouse, we are once again plagued by pesky cats.

Warning: if you park your car under a tree for shade, there’s a good chance some goats will come along and use it for a steppingstone to reach the leaves.

We continue down the coast to the town of Sur.

As we mentioned, many men wear white dishdashas here, while many women go for basic black.

People here are fairly devout, but admirably moderate. I can’t imagine an Omani strapping on a suicide vest, murdering cartoonists, or sawing someone’s head off in a video. (Speaking of which: Welcome Home, Canadian ISIS Sisters!)

Dhows are still constructed here. The only place in Oman, as far as we know.

A nearby museum recounts the glory days of dhow commerce in the Indian Ocean.

After an afternoon coffee, a stroll around the old town is in order.

The aging, pre-oil-wealth buildings have a lot of character.

Our next stop from Sur is Ras al-Jinz.

Shortly before reaching it, we stop at Ras al-Hadd to check out the fort. We have fun climbing the tower.

There is supposed to be a WWII-era RAF airstrip in the vicinity, but we can’t find a single trace of it.

We spend a night at Ras al-Jinz. Its main claim to fame is that it is one of the few places on Earth where sea turtles come ashore to lay eggs year-round.

We sign up for a night tour of the beach. There is no flash photography allowed. (In fact, there are supposed to be no lights at all, except for the guide’s red light. Including cellphones. Of course, in our group of 10-plus people, a significant number have to surreptitiously check their cellphones every 37 seconds.)

The beach is dotted with crater-like nesting sites. We’re lucky enough to come across a 200-kilo green turtle busy digging her nest. Powerful flippers eject turbo-blasts of sand behind her.

Our guide leaves us to see if he can find another nesting turtle.He returns out of the dark and places on the ground four newly-hatched tiny turtles. They immediately make for the sea and we cheer as they disappear in the water.

Sight or Insight of the Day

The currency here, the Omani rial, is worth a lot. This is a 50 rial note.

It’s worth about $175.00 Canadian. According to Wikipedia:

‘It is the third-highest-valued currency unit in the world after the Kuwaiti dinar and the Bahraini dinar.’

This makes the Swiss franc look like the Indian rupee. On the one hand, it makes things sound cheap. On the other hand, when you do the math, things are, um, not so cheap.

Also, interesting – the rial is divided into 1,000 baisa, so you get prices like ‘3.750 rials’.

Our flight from Yerevan via Abu Dhabi goes without a hitch. (This is not strictly true, but that’s a long story.) We arrive in Muscat early in the evening.

It’s a change from Armenia, that’s for sure. The most obvious difference is the intense heat. It’s a withering 35 degrees Celsius here. We love it.

Muscat looks like a prosperous Gulf oil state. People are well off without the staggering excesses of other Gulf monarchies.

On our first full day in Muscat, we pick up a rental car. We dub him Lawrence.

We usually don’t like to drive in the capital cities of non-Western countries. Mostly because of the decayed road infrastructure and the insane driving patterns. But Muscat has neither: the roads are well-signed and pothole-free. And the drivers are certainly less lethal than where we’ve just come from.

Besides, Muscat is spread out across dozens of kilometres and public transport is patchy. (Most people drive.)

In the harbour is one of the Sultan’s boats, the Fulk Al Salamah. It’s the size of a small cruise ship.

We like these dark mountains that separate the neighbourhoods in Muscat.

We visit Old Muscat, which doesn’t really look old anymore. It has government offices and the Sultan’s Palace.

Typical dress for men in Oman: a full-length robe called a dishdasha. Male government employees are mandated to wear these during office hours.

We visit the Mutrah souq. Among other things, this man is selling two Omani specialties: dates and frankincense.

The National Museum is good place to spend a few air-conditioned hours.

Behind these buildings is the Al-Lawatia district in Mutrah, a Shia enclave that is closed to visitors.

There are dhows in the harbour. Oman is one of the few places where dhows are still constructed.

Sight or Insight of the Day

Oman is pretty easy-going these days, relatively speaking, but in its pre-oil heyday, it was a centre of the East African slave trade. (They tend to skip over this part in the National Museum.)

I could never quite understand the fashion for some black people in North America to give their children Arabic names, such as ‘Jamal’ and ‘Hakeem’.

The point may be to turn one’s back on the religion of your white oppressors and instead turn to the imagined egalitarian aspect of Islam. But slavery was still enthusiastically practiced in the Arab world halfway into the 20th century.

‘In 1948, the United Nations declared slavery to be a crime against humanity in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, after which the Anti-Slavery Society pointed out that there were about one million slaves in the Arabian Peninsula…’

Maybe it’s time to go back to Bob and Dave and Joe.

We depart for the town of Areni, by way of Lake Sevan. Sevan is the largest lake in Armenia.

From Lake Sevan to Areni, we drive over the Selim Pass.

Near Areni is the dramatically-situated Noravank Monastery.

It’s dramatic because of the surrounding red rock canyon.

I climb down to an underground chamber that we are told was where a monk would go if he wanted to meditate in solitude.

Areni is one of the premier wine districts in Armenia. We visit the Hin Areni, Trinity Canyon, and Old Bridge wineries.

We purchase a bottle of Areni Noir.

They have a cockatiel who reminds us of Charlie.

There are roadside kiosks in the area that sell wine in soft-drink bottles. We are told that these are purchased by Iranian truck drivers who smuggle them into Iran (where there is a total ban on alcohol) for personal consumption.

From Areni, we drive further south. Along the way, we overtake a truck carrying a tank.

En route, we stop in Karahunj, the ‘Stonehenge of Armenia’.

Many of the stones have holes drilled into them. Some archaeologists believe that the holes lined up with celestial bodies. This is yet to be proven for sure.

To get to the Tatev Monastery, we take what is billed as the world’s longest cable car ride.

On the journey, we pass over another ruined monastery far below.

Tatev Monastery itself is well preserved. Probably because they get some help from US Aid, according to a sign at the entrance.

The exhibits of found objects are well-presented, too.

An Eastern Orthodox priest walks by.

Our destination is the southern town of Goris. Close by, we visit the abandoned cave community of Old Khndzoresk. To get there, you cross over a very wobbly suspended bridge.

On our way back north, we come across some Russian military vehicles. Russia acts as a peacekeeper between Armenia and Azerbaijan.

We overtake more on the road.

This is a common occurrence in Asia. A vehicle breaks down on the side of the ride. The driver sets down a bunch of large rocks in lieu of warning triangles. When the vehicle drives off, as often as not they leave the rocks on the road.

Out of nowhere, the double peaks of Mount Ararat (in nearby Turkey) appear. It’s gigantic.

Maria takes dozens of photos of this spectacular sight. We’ll limit ourselves to two here.

At a roadside bakery. These ladies are making lavash, Armenia’s most popular bread.

Our last stop before returning to Yerevan is Garni, the only standing Greco-Roman building in Armenia.

Back in the hubbub of the big city, we prepare to depart the Caucasus region.

Sight or Insight of the Day

For something different, let’s list three facts about the Caucasus that we didn’t know before coming here.

Georgia – Even though St. George is the patron saint of Georgia, and St. George iconography is everywhere, the name ‘Georgia’ does not derive from St. George.

According to this exhaustive article in Wikipedia:

‘The European “Georgia” probably stems from the Persian designation of the Georgians – gurğ (گرج), ğurğ – which reached the Western European crusaders and pilgrims in the Holy Land who rendered the name as Georgia and, erroneously, explained its origin by the popularity of St. George (Tetri Giorgi) among the Georgians.’

Azerbaijan – in the Tintin series, Captain Haddock is famous for his descriptive insults. One of his favourites is ‘bashibazouk’.

We learn that a bashi-bazouk is a Turkish term for unpaid, undisciplined shock troops, sent in to ‘soften up’ and terrorize would-be conquests.

During the September Days massacre of Armenians in Baku in 1918, the Turkish army used Azerbaijani bashi-bazouks in the following role:

‘Regular Ottoman troops were not allowed to enter the city for two days, so that the local irregulars – bashibozuks – would conduct looting and pillaging.’

Armenia – Almost everyone (well, almost every male) knows that the standard Russian jet fighter is the MiG. The ‘Mi’ part comes from Mikoyan, that is Artem Mikoyan, aircraft designer extraordinaire. (The ‘G’ part comes from his design partner, Mikhail Gurevich.)

It turns out that Artem Mikoyan was Armenian, from the small village of Sanahin. We visit a nicely-executed small museum dedicated to Artem and his brother Anastas, a big shot in Soviet Union politics.

Continuing around the north of Armenia, we travel the Debed Canyon to Alaverdi.

Seen throughout Armenia are these carved stone crosses called khachkars.

We park Cardashian below and hike up a steep path to the ruins of the Kobayr Monastery.

The interior still has visible frescos.

According to Wikipedia: ‘The monastery is currently undergoing renovation funded by the government of Armenia with the assistance of the government of Italy.’

We can assure you, there isn’t much in the way of restoration going on.

Just two guys carrying tools around and sawing a plank every now and then. By the time they’re done, we’ll be in the new Dark Ages.

Maria takes a rest in the bell tower.

This is a common sight in Armenia – a raised concrete platform beside the road for convenient DIY oil changes. Just drive up the ramp, drain out the old onto the ground, replace with new oil, and drive away. Not exactly good for the environment, but what the hey.

In better shape is the Haghpat Monastery.

Unlike Georgia and Azerbaijan, a lot of the sights in Armenia have free admission.

Even though it’s a UNESCO-listed heritage site, there are few signposts showing the way. The story is the same with the nearby Sanahin Monastery.

We manage to find them in the end.

One of the reasons many of these monasteries are still standing is that they are built so solidly of massive blocks, it would take high explosives to demolish them completely.

In the village are houses that typify the character of these Caucasus countries. There is very much a Balkan/Ottoman/Asiatic influence, especially in rural areas. Ramshackle brick construction, squat toilets, roaming farm animals. Being under the Russian jackboot for several centuries is also a hindrance to modernity, you could say.

Sight or Insight of the Day

We’re fascinated by the number of abandoned Soviet-era factories we see here.

All three Caucasus countries have some, but Armenia seems to have more than its share. Some of these places are enormous.

We wonder what was produced in these now-desolate spaces that once hummed with human activity.

Given more time, we’d be interested in infiltrating one to have a look around. Spooky stuff.