My Big Bus Adventure from Armenia to Bulgaria and Back Part IV

Izmir to Ankara

Elaine and I went to Izmir's airport and headed for the Turkish Airlines desk. We were hoping to get a ticket to Kars, which is a city in Eastern Turkey that is very close to the Armenian border. We really wanted to spare ourselves another bus trip across the country. Unfortunately, there were no tickets available to Kars. So we asked for tickets to Erzurum, another city in the east that isn't quite as close to Armenia as Kars is, but would still be close enough. No dice. Apparently, every Turk and his brother was flying east. The lady behind the counter told us we could fly to Ankara and try again and that's what we ultimately opted to do. I remember being pleasantly shocked at how cheap the tickets to Ankara were.

After stopping for a pit stop in the squat toilets at the Izmir airport, Elaine and I headed for the gate. We climbed onboard and watched the beautiful, exotic looking Turkish flight attendants do their safety demonstration. They were all wearing beautiful silk and gold scarves like the one I had purchased at the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul.

The flight to Ankara took maybe 90 minutes, but Elaine and I were delighted, since that shaved about eight or nine hours off of our trip back to Armenia. We landed in Ankara, Turkey's capital city, at around noon. I remember thinking I would have liked to have checked it out. The flight from Izmir was totally uneventful and stress free. We got off the plane and hoped we could find another easy flight to Erzurum or Kars.

Elaine and I get our wings clipped

We headed to the Turkish Airlines desk in Ankara and asked for tickets going east. There were none to be had for love or money and, apparently, flights going east were fully booked for the next few days. Undaunted, we tried Istanbul Airlines and we told we could try flying standby. Unfortunately, we weren't lucky playing the standby game. It looked like we might be stranded at Ankara's airport.

Elaine and I decided to refresh with a cup of coffee while we discussed what we should do. After about an hour of hemming and hawing, we mutually came to the decision to head for the bus station. I was dreading another bus trip, but there was just no other choice.

We hailed a taxi and headed for Ankara's enormous bus station. If Istanbul's bus station seemed hot, chaotic, and dirty, Ankara's was definitely infinitely worse. I felt like I was walking into a barnyard when Elaine and I walked into the building. We approached a ticket booth and purchased tickets to Kars. The clerk advised us we would first have to change buses in Erzurum and the trip would take all night.

Journey to Erzurum

The bus we took to Erzurum was a lot more modern and, in many ways, more comfortable than our Armenian bus had been. For one thing, it was much newer and cleaner. It had plush seats and there was someone onboard to pass around hot towels and refreshments. However, there were a lot more people on this bus than there had been on our Armenian bus. Consequently, it was a bit crowded. I remember a man sat across the aisle with his small daughter. At one point on the trip, she got motion sickness and vomited. Elaine and I were both impressed by how well her dad handled the mess. All in all, though, this bus ride was downright civilized compared to what we had already experienced and what was coming up.

We pulled into Erzurum at dawn. Since much of our journey had been in the dark, I hadn't seen the landscape change as we headed east. Turkey, at least in 1996, definitely gets more primitive the further east one travels. The bus station in Erzurum was definitely not as hot, dirty, or crowded as the one in Ankara had been, but it was definitely a lot less modern. Elaine and I tumbled off the bus and headed to the area where we would catch our bus to Kars. Most of the kiosks and ticket stalls in the Erzurum bus station were closed, but I do remember running into a friendly guy who welcomed us to his city as he offered us sweet hot tea.

As far east as Erzurum was, we still knew we had a ways to go. I peeked outside and noticed that Erzurum looked like a pretty city. There were mountains all around and, as I understand it, the area is a popular ski destination. I didn't get much time to ponder that, however, because Elaine and I were soon on a bus headed for Kars.

Journey to Kars

Compared to the bus ride from Ankara to Erzurum, our trip to Kars was mercifully short. But the bus ride to Kars still took several hours and in a less comfortable bus. At this point, I remember wishing the trip would just end. When we finally got to Kars, I felt like I was already back in Armenia. This bus station was out in the middle of nowhere and was extremely primitive. It was basically a large concrete building with peeling white paint and a single cafe that sold glasses of tea.

Kars is only about twenty miles from the Armenian border and, in fact, had once been part of Armenia. Had we had some time to spare, Elaine and I could have visited Ani, an ancient Armenian capital that sits right next to the border. But we were too preoccupied with finding a ride across the border. Complicating matters was the fact that the border to Armenia was closed tight and we'd have to go through Georgia again to get back to Armenia.

We did eventually find a man who told us we could take a minibus to a border town called Posof. From there, we might be able to get into Georgia. So, we waited around at the Kars bus station, sipping tea, and feeling very out of place in a very traditional area where most westerners fear to tread. A few hours later, we were in a minibus headed north with two very traditional Muslim village ladies.

Impromptu picnic

Elaine and I couldn't have much of a conversation with the Muslim village ladies because neither of them spoke English and, of course, we spoke no Turkish. I do remember them being very nice to us, though. They had sacks of grapes that they shared with us on the way to their village.

The driver dropped them off and then we asked him if we could pay him extra to take us to the Georgian border. He agreed and we gave him some cash. Off we went again, until he abruptly pulled over on the side of the road. Apparently, he had decided he wanted to have a picnic with us. He brought out a bunch of food and spread it out. Elaine and I didn't know what to do, other than follow his lead. Unfortunately, it seems he was looking for something other than company at lunchtime.

Somehow, we managed to decline his advances, which we were shocked about, given the state we were in after traveling for a couple of days. We got back on the road and down to business. It was about 2:30pm as we reached Posof. I noticed how beautiful the area was and, once again, wished I could explore it. But we had a time deadline we didn't know about. As our minibus was climbing a winding dirt road, we saw an Armenian bus approaching. Elaine got our driver to stop and flagged down the bus, asking if we were headed in the right direction for the Georgian border. The driver said we were, but we needed to hurry. It was approaching 3:00 in Turkey, but it was 5:00 in Georgia, and that was when the border closed! The explanation we got for this was that the Turkish government preferred to keep the entire country in the same time zone, even though Turkey is a big country.

Welcome back to hell!

Elaine and I had hoped against hope that we might avoid the hellish border crossing that we passed on the way into Turkey. Alas, we weren't that lucky. As the minibus descended the hill toward Georgia, we saw the telltale white buildings, barbed wire fences, and gates. We both groaned as the driver pulled up to the customs area and dropped us off.

Elaine and I visited with the customs officer, who stamped us out of Turkey. Then he told us that we were too late and would not be able to get over the border. We asked him what we should do. He said we could either go to a crappy motel that was located not too far from the border or we could just stay there until morning.

In retrospect, we made a pretty stupid decision, but we did end up staying on the border. At first, it was okay. All the guys who worked in the border patrol treated us like guests and brought out a bunch of food, beer, and raki for us. For those who don't know, raki is considered a national drink in Turkey. It's basically an alcoholic drink fortified with anise, giving it a very strong licorice flavor. Mix it with water and it turns milky, which is why some people call it lion's milk. The border patrol was also kind enough to exchange our Turkish lira for dollars, although I'm not sure we got a very good rate.

Anyway, it was all fun and games at first, until the customs manager decided he wanted to go home and was hoping that I would accompany him. My friend Elaine was very always a very mild-mannered, patient person, but when the customs manager propositioned me, she got very angry. She yelled at the guy that we would not be separating. There were a few very tense moments as we wondered if there was going to be an international incident.

At that point, one of the other men who worked on the border felt sorry for us and managed to get the customs manager to leave. Then he opened an office for us. We pushed some chairs up against the door and slept on the floor. Thankfully, I had brought a sleeping bag with me. It really came in handy.

The next morning

I wasn't able to sleep too well on the dirty floor, so I was up very early. After using the squat toilet at the end of the hall, I wandered outside, where there was a group of people waiting next to a bus. The spoke Russian to me. I answered in Armenian. They asked me where my bus was. I told them I didn't have one. They asked where I was going. I said I was going to Yerevan, where I lived. Then they said I should go with them, since they were going to Yerevan.

Elaine soon joined us. Her Armenian was much better than mine was and, as it turned out, the bus driver took a liking to her and agreed to let us hitch a ride. Naturally, we were very relieved to have a ride back to Yerevan. We thought we were going to have to start walking.

It turned out the bus we caught was one that went from Yerevan to Greece every couple of weeks. It picked passengers up near the Yerevan Opera House and then drove them to Athens, where they could buy goods to sell in Armenia. Consequently, the bus was full of goods. And, once again, we were hassled by the Russian border guards who were guarding the Georgian border. The bus driver managed to get them off our case, though I do remember slipping him about $50 for the favor.

Unfortunately, clearing the Georgian border took a few hours, since the border patrol had to go through everyone's goods. Once we were all cleared to go, we were on our way. As it turned out, our trip to Armenia was to take a circuitous route. First, we stopped in a little Georgian town where the bus driver had relatives. It turned out to be an Armenian village. He really seemed to have a crush on Elaine, so he took us both out to lunch, which we enjoyed at a little cafe. I remember having horovats (Armenian barbecue) and lots of lavash.

The place with no roads...

Then, we got back on the bus and started heading south again. I remember wanting to take pictures of the rushing rivers and castle ruins I saw as the bus passed. But there was no time to stop and take a look because we had business to attend to.

There was a man onboard who lived in Georgia and needed to be dropped off at his very rural locale. We were soon in the middle of nowhere in Georgia. I remember thinking the scenery was beautiful, but I wished we were making progress in getting to Yerevan.

Sometime in the early evening, the bus stopped in the middle of a field. Apparently, the man who was getting off needed us to wait for him in that area. He was going to go to his home and get his tractor, which had a trailer attached to it. It was at that point that I got a look at the man. He was a small, slight, older gentleman with a haircut that looked inspired by Julius Caesar. He got off the bus and got in front of the bus, beckoning the bus driver to follow him . Except instead of walking like a normal guy, he sort of pranced in front of the bus, roosterlike. The spectacle looked totally ridiculous and soon everyone on the bus was cracking up because of the way this little man was prancing ahead with a big bus in his shadow.

We waited a couple of hours for the man to return with his tractor and get all of his goods off the bus. It was getting pretty dark by the time the bus was moving again and probably close to midnight by the time we finally stopped at the Armenian border.

A not so nice parting gift...

When we reached the Armenian border, I was absolutely thrilled! But I also needed to pee. Unfortunately, it was very dark at the border because there wasn't much electricity in those parts or anywhere else in Armenia.

Nevertheless, I decided to sneak behind the border patrol office and squat behind a bush. Because it was so dark outside, I didn't see the deep trench behind the office. I fell into it and cut the palm of my right hand. The cut was dirty and quite deep; in fact, I still have a scar there. I couldn't wash it, either. But I did at least manage to relieve myself.

Home at last!

The city of Yerevan was visible with the first rays of light of the dawning day. I was very eager to get back to my apartment, where I could take a bucket bath and a nap and start to decompress from our trip. I remember walking into my apartment and hearing a truly blessed sound... the hum of electricity! My refrigerator was working for the first time in about six weeks!

It seemed that while I was on my three week vacation, Armenia had reconnected with the Metzamor nuclear power plant. The end result was 24 hour power! That meant there was no longer any need to read by kerosene lamp. There was no need for people to steal power with levy luys (left line), which was an illegal way Armenians got power by leeching off of subway stations or hospitals. Of course, Metzamor's operation was also scary, since it was a nuclear power plant that had last been operational in 1988, when Armenia was hit by a huge earthquake. A lot of us had visions of the Chernobyl nuclear accident in our heads. Peace Corps had helpfully provided us with iodine pills, which we were supposed to take in case of an accident... to protect our thyroid glands. Seemed kind of silly and pointless and thankfully, we never had the need to take them.

Would I take this trip again?

I used to refer to this particular adventure as a trip from hell. In a way, it really was a trip from hell. It was difficult, uncomfortable, and, at times, very dangerous. That's what makes it very special. It amazes me that we survived that trip mostly in one piece, though I do still have scars from the fall into the trench and my underarm abscess to remind me of it.

When it comes down to it, I wouldn't trade that trip for anything, as rough as it was. I got to see places that most Americans will never see and meet some very interesting people. And while I don't know that I'd want to do a similar trip anytime soon, I can at least say I survived that one and lived to write about it.