Three years ago on March 16, we flew from London to Yerevan, Armenia. We arrived at midnight. Snow was falling. The roads were icy and hazardous.
I should also mention our driver, who did not speak any English, was a former professional wrestler. One glance at him told us all we needed to know. He was a very large, exceptionally muscular man. This was supposed to be a comfort to us–should we encounter any “trouble.”
However, as we wound our way up and down hills, through tiny villages, traversing small side roads unfamiliar to us, I began to worry. We’d driven from Yerevan to Gyumri and back, five times on our registration trip six months…but we’d never taken this route. My mind played terrible tricks as I imagined our fate.
But arrive at our destination we did. And safely. At 3:00 a.m. in the morning.
We checked into the Nane Hotel. I still feel badly for the poor guy at the front desk who was forced to wait up for us. He gave us the key to our room, a number I will never forget–the area code for our home city. On the table in our room, was this statuette, an apropos reminder of why we’d traveled half way around the world.
In the morning, a snow-covered Gyumri greeted us. Along with a temperature of 5-below-zero Fahrenheit.
Take the road less traveled, Beth