IT’S HARD NOT to go to a country from the former Soviet Bloc without a James Bond moment. I had a perfect one on arrival at Yerevan Airport, a pleasing concrete flying saucer of a building. A police officer kept staring at me.
Perhaps I should have been a tad more nervous but, despite the severe green serge uniform and over-large Soviet-style peaked cap, her pointed stilettos were oddly attractive. Well, perhaps not oddly at all. Continue reading “Armenia: Taste of the old order”