Category Archives: Postcards
Armenia: Salt on the tail of the bird of my soul
I came to Armenia a little over 4 years ago; it was the first time. I had never met anyone who said they were Armenian, never heard anyone speak the name of its proud capital, Yerevan or glimpsed any or … Continue reading
Tbilisi
Old Town Tbilisi Mid February in Tbilisi and it was cold. Liezel had come with me on a work trip and we had driven up the five hours from Yerevan on Saturday morning to spend the weekend together before my … Continue reading
Towards the End of Summer
Postcard from the Black Sea It was towards the end of summer. Liezel and I drove towards the Georgian boarder, it was before we were married and she had to leave Armenia and then re-enter with another four month tourist … Continue reading
Stories of Stones
Postcard from Armenia I paid for our rooms at the Hotel Basen in Sissian and got directions for the road ahead. We arrived in the dark last night and I had no clue where we were. At first we couldn’t … Continue reading
The Creator of Yerevan
Postcard from Yerevan When I arrived in Yerevan I began to construct a new city; it is very similar to the Yerevan on my city tourist map and it is similar to the Yerevan of the people who have lived … Continue reading
Gods Tears
Postcard from Yerevan I was dining with a friend. She told me that three of her friends had been hit by a car at 3am crossing Tumanyan St last night. The road must have been deserted at that time, it has four … Continue reading
Of Swans and Wolves
Postcard from Yerevan My fourth floor balcony in the center of Yerevan overlooks a small man-made lake. It is called Swan Lake and it is in the shape of Armenia. Up until recently the weather was mild and the lake … Continue reading
Driving Armenia
The Road to Alaverdi Postcard from Armenia I can’t figure out all the features of my brand new fully optioned Suzuki S X Cross. The manual that came with it is in Russian, so the clock is still 20 minutes … Continue reading
The Salt of My Father
Postcard from Albania Me at 3, my sister Katie and my father Ian I shake the salt container into my hand and sprinkle it onto the chips, I do this again and again as a reflex, watching the … Continue reading
What am I doing here? 