Next morning his hosts are up early to prepare breakfast for the Traveler and wish him godspeed. He needs to set a brisk pace if he wants to make it to Georgia today. 
 
It's a crisp morning with a mysterious blanket of fog enveloping the grassy plateau . he's eager for adventure and discovery, and when he sees a dirt road meandering towards the north he once again ignores the voice of caution and decides to follow it, instead of following the main road down the the highway in the valley. Yep. Despite his bad luck following trails here in Armenia, he's doing it again...
 
This time the story is different though. this partly overgrown path winds down the lush, rugged mountains side to an isolated mountain home. A woman is out milking the cow... a man is coming from the mountains carrying a rifle, back from an early morning hunt.  
 
There's a beautiful timelessness to this scene. It strikes him that for these people it makes little difference if their country is ruled by the Russians, the Turks or an Armenian government... or whether the national economy flourishes or collapses. They live off the land, just as their ancestors have for 1000s of years. Their in tune with the cycles of nature and are able to make do with what Mother Nature has provided them. Kingdoms will rise and fall... cities will be built and collapse... wars will be fought... but for these people, their simple life will continue the same.
 
There's no hostility as he passes and continues down the path as it gets narrower and more overgrown. Now he doesn't care if he hits a dead end--this was definitely something worth discovering...
 
But no, he reconnects with the highway and the village of Neghots, still musing on the experience he's just had.