Christopher Beanland visits the capitals of Armenia and Georgia, Yerevan and Tbilisi on a journey to find out what has changed since Soviet times in The Caucasus
Yerevan
It’s hard to know what to make of the Cascade – probably Yerevan’s number one attraction, certainly its most well known and perhaps its most idiosyncratic. Essentially a huge series of staircases and halls stretching from the city centre up an immense hill and embellished with sculptures and fountains, it gets more bizarre the deeper you delve into it. To tell its full story would take all my word count and leave you with very little of any impression of the Armenian capital, so of course I am not going to go out in a blaze of glory like that.
A potted summary would include the wholescale redesign of Yerevan in the 1920s (more of that later) and then many failed attempts to follow through on these ideas throughout the Soviet period. As with other Post-Soviet cities Yerevan fell into dereliction and decline following the dissolution of the USSR and the independence of Armenia in the 1990s. The taste of freedom – as with all these former periods – was bittersweet. It came at a huge economic cost but today we can see those green shoots of recovery flourishing from Tallinn to Tashkent.
The ruined Cascade scheme was rescued by a millionaire philanthropist, Gerard Cafesjian, who wanted to celebrate his Armenian roots and give the city something to be proud of. To those ends the building was restored and lavish art galleries installed in the halls. Groups of school children huddle excitedly around iconic Armenian art works from ancient and modern times, their teachers careful (I’m sure) to teach their pupils the importance of Armenian culture and heritage in a country whose very existence has been put under immense pressure at times by the slings and arrows of its powerful neighbours Russia and Turkey.
From the top of the Cascade I get a rousing view over the city, Mount Ararat rising in the distance, shrouded in clouds – a symbol of people and country. Poignantly a Russian-built SU30 fighter jet of the Armenian Air Force roars in circles in the clear blue skies above, a reminder that Armenia has been in one war or another for an extended period, most recently with Azerbaijan.
I explore more of the city and am pleasantly surprised by the wide boulevards, restored parks and art nouveau architecture. Yerevan’s East-meets-West position gives it an exotic yet familiar feel – European pavement cafes sit below architecture which is much harder to pinpoint, with communist, Middle-Eastern, Turkic, Gothic and French touches.
At the DoubleTree Hotel I enjoy a drink overlooking another view of the city. The plush hotel is in one of the city’s nicest districts and includes all mod cons. I spy the city’s cute Metro trundling and the wedding dress shops of the area ready for emotional brides to be to say yes to the dress. It goes without saying if you’re in the market for cheap cigs and bargain local wine you’re in the right place. Delicious food is served in fancy restaurants and giveaway prices. Kebabs, salads, baked breads.
I take my leave via a walk past the City Museum and over a handsome bridge. I come to the Bus Station and am glad I’ve left a bit of extra time before my Marshrutka departs to Tbilisi. The Soviet-era bus station is a peach – a long building with a huge and cool interior space at odds with the outright chaos and grubbiness of many bus stations. A huge map of Armenia in wood takes centre-stage at one end of the building.
Tbilisi
For the record I love trains and was very close to booking a sleeper train from Yerevan to Tbilisi which is in new-ish carriages with air conditioning and even showers. I eventually chose not to because of a) a scheduling issue – the train is every other day, and b) that I wanted to actually see the scenery enroute.
So I pay my cash fee to a man smoking a cigarette in a white plastic chair (some things are the same the world over) and board my Transit Van minibus with two couples and an old man who looks so past it that this might well be his final journey.
Soon we are out of the Yerevan suburbs and into the mountains. The scenery soon becomes so immense and impressive that I feel incredibly smug I didn’t miss all this on a night train – but also sad that I don’t have more time to detour properly to Mount Ararat or Lake Sevan.
Halfway through the journey the van pulls up and some Armenian and Russian is shouted. I think I work out how much time we have and go for a walk. I see silvery streams, snow-capped peaks and beautiful green foothills traversed by power lines, the railway never far away from the road that traverses the same valleys. It is incredibly beautiful. At a service station I make friends with an incredibly well-insulated dog that looks as depressed as dogs you meet on trips always do, looks designed for cold nights corralling renegade sheep, a faithful friend for any lonely shepherd.
Back on the van it’s an hour before we come to the Georgian border and waste an hour in various lines. Georgia tried to stamp its mark using architecture when it became independent from the USSR. Its border crossings are a source of particular pride.
We cruise down into Tbilisi after another hour and a half and are deposited at a nondescript marketplace. Tbilisi immediately seems more westernised than Yerevan. I had given up on trying to work the Metro there but here I can simply tap my Apple Pay to get down into the system – and all for pennies. It always makes me laugh in Soviet Metros to descend the escalators and see at the bottom always the same sight – a stern-faced older woman sat in a cabin doing – God knows what with her time?
I pass by Georgia’s Parliament just as a small demonstration starts to heat up – 50 protestors block the main road, police rush in. The Parliament is surrounded by police and encampments, F*** Russia graffiti is swilled off but always returns. There is palpable tension. The current Georgian regime is taking the country away from Europe and towards Russia, undoing 15 years of travel in the opposite direction.
It’s very hard to find anyone in Tbilisi who is happy about this. I’ve never seen so many EU flags. When the demented rumps of countries like Britain throw away a privilege, those who want a part in a global future crave it – young people here want to be able to trade with and visit Europe, to enjoy democracy and press freedom.
I thought Rooms Hotel might be on the fence about this. After all most hotels are simply happy to take anyone’s money – dirty or clean. Not a bit of it. Rooms supports protesters, gives them food and drink, displays the EU flag on its doors and those of sister Stamba. These joint properties are some of the coolest and most impressive I’ve ever seen in former CIS countries.
Set in former publishing and newspaper offices the members of Design Hotels offer quirky rooms, convivial dining and relaxing spaces, some of the hottest bars and clubs in the city and much more: a natural wine bar, a vertical farm, a boutique chocolatier using the local almonds in their candies. There’s co-working, outdoor space for screenings, coffee shops. It’s all very impressive.
I finish with a walk down to the fabled Bank of Georgia Building – which I put in my 2016 book Concrete Concept – Brutalist Buildings Around The World. This Soviet masterwork was built as the Ministry of Transport and resembles a Jenga stack of roads and bridges set by the river. It’s a startling sight.
Tell Me More About Post-Soviet Splendour In The Caucasus
Chris flew to Yerevan and Tbilisi with Pegasus Airlines who offer daily return flights from London Stansted from £226 (Tbilisi) and £287 (Yerevan)
Travel between Yerevan and Tbilisi by air with Air One, by train with Armenian state railways sleeper train (every other day) or multiple daily departures between Yerevan Bus Station and Tbilisi Bus Station by various bus companies – tickets are turn up and go, from £20 one way. By road takes 5-6 hours.
Hotels in Yerevan and Tibilisi
Rates per night from £69
Rates from £85
Rooms new Batumi property has just opened
