I spent a couple of days ostensibly riding out the weather in Meghri but really immobilised by the prospect of leaving for the unknown of Iran. In my haste to arrive at the border before my visa window elapsed I had done so with a week to spare and I found it surprisingly difficult to leave.
Despite falling ill I felt very affectionate towards Armenia. Apricot jam, excellent inexpensive brandy and sensational doors were now my status quo. A land of harsh mountains, proud of its Christian heritage but perfectly relaxed about all shops staying open late on Sundays; where an overturned cup of coffee can predict whether you would find love. (I would not apparently, so the system checks out.) Even the overwhelmingly high proportion of white vehicles compared to other colors now seemed perfectly normal.
