Yerevan in the Clouds: A Journey Through Armenia’s Soul from the Aisles of Duty-Free

When the Mountain Whispers Your Name

The first thing you notice flying into Yerevan isn’t the city—it’s the mountain. Mount Ararat, snowcapped and myth-soaked, rises like a quiet god beyond the tarmac. A reminder that you are somewhere ancient, somewhere sacred.

Duty-Free Meets Destiny

At Zvartnots International Airport, Armenia’s gateway, I do what any self-respecting traveler does before immersion: I stock up.
A bottle of Ararat Nairi 20-year-old brandy—liquid history.
A spritz of Maison Francis Kurkdjian Baccarat Rouge 540, because drama.
Some Ritter Sport minis (local chocolate will come later, patience).

The Pink City Wakes

Yerevan is pink. Literally. Its buildings blush with volcanic tuff stone, glowing rose under the sun.
But the city is not soft. It thumps with jazz, espresso, late-night poetry, and post-Soviet surrealism. Republic Square’s dancing fountains feel like a fever dream scored by Charles Aznavour.

Eat, Sip, Repeat

Dolma wrapped in grape leaves. Lavash warm from a toneer oven. And apricots—the real kind, not the emoji.
At GUM Market, you can sample local dried fruits, wild mountain honey, and yes, home-brewed vodka in reused soda bottles.

Culture in 4/4 Time

Visit Cafesjian Center for the Arts—not just for the art, but for the escalators that climb the open-air Cascade like a surreal staircase to heaven. Climb to the top, breathe in the skyline, and maybe cry a little.

Take Home the Soul

Don’t leave without:

• Armenian duduk (haunting wooden flute that sounds like memory)

• Vernissage flea market finds: silver jewelry, Soviet cameras, handwoven carpets

• A second bottle of brandy because someone will ask

Final Boarding

At departure, I look again at Ararat from the lounge window. Armenia isn’t trendy, or polished. That’s the point.
Yerevan is a city that keeps its history like a heartbeat. The best souvenirs are invisible: a deeper quiet, a sharper eye, a belly full of apricots and joy.