Way of Stepanakert, I approach the lago Sarsang. It is artificial and supplies electricity to Armenia and Russia, your ally. After, I will detour to Askeran before entering the capital. I want to see the ancient walls of Mairaberd up close, protagonists of too many wars and invasions since its construction. The last, as Armenian headquarters during the war that, it is assumed, He finished in 1994.
A considerable profusion of pools and ponds, fruit of the recent thaw, warn of the proximity of Stepanakert. The popular sculptures of Papik and Tatik - grandfather and grandmother - welcome us at the entrance. At his feet, three spirited soldiers are looking for someone to photograph them. I make my last attempt to get information and I offer. After the photos, the relaxed talk will come, but without valuable news. They sort all my questions with answers that are, turn, questions about Spain and my interest in your country.
Three spirited soldiers look for someone to photograph them and dodge all my questions about the war
The most talkative, a robust boy of good size, she tells me she's a singer. Later, I will discover that it is known internationally. He lives in the United States, where you will return when you finish your military service here, reason why he has returned, says. Farewell is imposed when there is nothing more to tell. Everybody here seems perfectly trained not to talk about war.
There is still enough light to take a walk through Stepanakert, miniature capital of this tentative republic. Its neuralgic axis is a short avenue where the government headquarters - local and state - and the only two banks in the city are located., one national and one foreign. The main street ends in a tiny roundabout covered with thick trees. In its center, the murmur of a fountain tries to neutralize the sound of rowdy traffic, surprisingly noisy for a town with so few inhabitants. The occasional users of the few benches of the parterre protect themselves from the still intense sun.
Although rebuilt after the war, Stepanakert has retained its local character, eluding mammoth commercial areas.
Although rebuilt after the war, Stepanakert has retained its local character, managing to avoid our mammoth commercial areas.
From the hotel veranda, on the main avenue, I observe in front of a zhengyalov hats –perfumed and tasty dish made with wheat and fine herbs– the progressive “volatilization” of the people in its streets. The cuisine of the region is essentially Armenian and resembles what we know as Mediterranean. They grow their agricultural products without fertilizers, preservatives or colorants and are proud of it.
The next day, in the huge silent dining room of starched and long white tablecloths, I am the only European customer having breakfast. They expect the situation to stabilize and tourists will return, the waitress tells me. «¿Mayor estabilidad aún?», I wonder.
In the huge and silent dining room, of starchy and long white tablecloths, I am the only European customer having breakfast
The sun already shines high when marching. The climate is pleasantly mild in spring in Nagorno Karabakh, deep emerald green when snow melts and before drought burns it.
I stop at Shushi, second most important city in the country and, for a time, su capital. Also here silence and the almost absence of people and vehicles predominate. Its cathedral - Ghazanchetsots - was rebuilt after the last war. And 1920, ceased to be a church and was successively a barn, ammunition warehouse and shelter. Today it is the seat of the diocese. It is the only one built with white stone.
Shushi Cathedral ceased to be a church in 1920 and it became successively barn, ammunition warehouse and shelter
I say goodbye to the country in the Jtrtuz cannon, with a shocking panorama, partly because of its sharp vertical drop. After negotiating winding stone paths, I join the general highway, as lonely as when I entered. On the "shore" between the Republic of Artsakh and Armenia, The war memorial says goodbye to me: two pyramids representing the mother and grandfather.
It is unwise to jump to conclusions based on the size of a country, some borders in continuous exchange or the multiplicity of their denominations. Is there a definitely irreversible state? Why would there, as, of being the old Republic of Artsakh, strolled region, downcast and occupied by so many and for so long? As so many other regions of the world have been.
Nagorno Karabakh is a paradise for curious wanderers without fear, despite the news that they want to impose on us
I find it, therefore, extremely difficult to talk about Upper Karabakh based on the current circumstances. As well as an armed conflict that I have neither seen nor heard. I have only heard of him from the western press, a desperate mother orphaned of children and three guerrillas.
In any case, I am left with the memory of its rare and tiny –although picturesque– villages, scattered over lonely hills. Or that of this paradise for curious wanderers without fear, despite the news that they want to impose on us.