Summers and Sevan: Finding a beach state of mind in Armenia
Anyone who has spent a summer in Armenia knows it’s more than a season. It’s an ongoing celebration filled with weddings, reunions and spontaneous gatherings that stretch from day into night. But with all the fun and joy comes one major downside: the heat.
Summers here can get so intense that I often wait until 6 or 7 p.m. before even thinking about stepping outside. And while Armenia has nearly everything you might want in the summer — the mountains, the scenery, the glamorous pools — there’s one thing we still long for: the sea; that easy, breezy place to spend long mornings and lazy afternoons under the sun.
This summer, I noticed that almost every conversation eventually circled back to the same thought: “If only we had a beach.” Luckily, we have the next best thing: Lake Sevan, Armenia’s own version of a seaside escape, just in a different form.
Located in Gegharkunik province, Lake Sevan is the largest body of water in Armenia and the Caucasus region. One of the largest freshwater high-altitude (alpine) lakes in Eurasia, it sits at 1,900 meters (6,234 feet) above sea level.
Beyond the small-town charm, Sevan offers diverse shores, hidden spots and a wide range of activities. What you do there really depends on your mood — a spontaneous road trip or a sunset dinner by the water; each experience feels different.
I spent many weekends there this past summer, and not once did it feel repetitive. Every trip carried its own energy: new places, new people and new reasons to fall in love with the lake all over again.
Day trips and staycations

There are many versions of a Sevan trip, depending on how you want to spend your time. There’s the one-day excursion, where you can play tourist and visit popular spots like Sevanavank, admire the beauty of the Writers’ House, eat beloved Sevan trout at one of the local fish restaurants, browse small souvenir shops and pick up a moonstone jewelry piece, catch the sunset and head home before night settles in. These trips tend to be spontaneous and require little preparation: you get in the car, drive just over an hour and let the experiences unfold.
But if you’re heading out for a multi-day staycation, it almost always begins with a pit stop at the Tsovagyugh Supermarket. For us, it has become something of a ritual: grabbing a warm loaf of puri, stocking up on road snacks and fueling up (both the car and ourselves) before heading toward Shorja. Now known as Shoghakat, this village lies northwest of the Artanish Peninsula and, if you ask me, is where the true heart of Sevan beats.
Some might consider the journey a hassle, since it takes longer to reach these shores, but it’s well worth the extra time. The road itself is mesmerizing, with water and greenery surrounding you at every turn. As you continue, you come across old, abandoned buildings, standing proudly as if they were built yesterday, alongside sweet roadside shops where elderly owners sit beneath umbrellas, surrounded by the water floats they sell.
There are several accommodation options on this side of the lake, spanning different budgets and preferences. One of the most popular is the infamous Wishup Shore — a meeting point for adventurers, campers, artists and anyone who simply wants to stay close to the water. Guests come for camping, simple lodging, good food, water activities like waterboarding or kayaking and, above all, the energy of the place.
Wishup has an effortless charm that’s hard to define. It feels almost like a bohemian beach resort, with wooden chairs scattered along the shore, a simple yet inviting restaurant and just enough activity to keep things interesting. What truly sets it apart, though, is the sense of openness. It’s community-oriented without being exclusive; everyone seems to belong.
You could easily call Wishup a beach club, as it has all the makings of one. But for me, its real charm lies in the sunsets. There’s something almost surreal about them: the way the lake reflects the fading light, the air softens and the world briefly feels still. In those moments, geography fades. You’re not in Armenia, not anywhere specific — just present.
It’s a little reminder that you don’t need to travel far to feel transported. Sometimes, all it takes is seeing home through a different lens.
Shorja has vast stretches of untouched shorelines, much of it still waiting to be brought to life. Wishup managed to do just that, without overcomplicating things. It’s not trying to be luxurious or trendy; it’s simply real. Somehow, that honesty does all the work. It draws in people who appreciate its rawness — the kind of crowd that doesn’t need convincing. And sure enough, every summer, it’s packed. You have to book weeks, even months, in advance to secure a spot. What makes it special, though, is that no matter when you go — weekday or weekend — it’s always alive, filled with people, music and the kind of energy that comes from a place that knows exactly what it is.
Another favorite spot in Shorja is the Soviet-era Artists’ House (Nkarichneri Tun). As the name suggests, it once served as a summer retreat for artists during the Soviet period. Today, it functions as a public shoreline and a hostel-style hotel. Aside from minimal renovations to the rooms, much of the place remains unchanged, preserving its unique charm. Old statues and posters from the Soviet period line the grounds, paying homage to the generations of artists who once gathered there.
My absolute favorite feature, though, is the balconies. Slightly rustic, surprisingly spacious and overlooking the lake, they elevate every moment: whether it’s morning coffee, shared drinks and cheese plates or a round of backgammon. With no proper on-site restaurant — aside from a cute little shop selling snacks, drinks and the occasional batch of fresh chocolate croissants — guests are encouraged to bring something to the table, quite literally. Visitors cook for themselves, gather on the balconies and share what they’ve made. It’s all about simple pleasures: good company, fresh food and a view that never grows old. While Wishup feels like a pause in time, Nkarichner makes you feel as though you’ve stepped back decades, into an era when the place was in its prime.

Beyond swimming and sunsets, Lake Sevan becomes a gathering ground for artists of all kinds each summer. Festivals pop up along its shores, drawing everyone from locals seeking a weekend escape to travelers searching for something deeper.
The Sevan International Music Festival is among the most popular and was launched in 2015 by the Sevan Youth Club NGO. One of its main goals is to harness the energy of youth and the unifying power of music, reflected in its motto: “Let’s make change with music.”
Then there’s the B’Arev Festival, which centers on transformation, resetting, relearning and reconnecting with both self and land. Through music, embodied rituals and diverse art forms, the festival creates a sacred space where community, nature and creativity intersect. More than a local event, B’Arev aims to position Armenia as a regional hub for spiritual and cultural connection, bringing together art, healing and diversity in one unforgettable experience. This year’s festival, held during Navasard — Armenia’s cosmic New Year — spanned three days at Artanish Beach Resort. Attendees took part in more than 15 workshops, ceremonies and conscious practices led by international teachers, alongside musical performances and immersive art installations that fostered a deep connection with nature, culture and community.
Traveling abroad has its charms, but there’s something special about summers at Lake Sevan: lying on the shore with friends, music in the air, local beer in hand and fresh Sevan trout on the table. It’s Armenia’s own beach-resort tradition — a reminder that some experiences feel different, and better, when they happen at home.
These small, hidden spots and local events keep Armenian summer traditions alive, inspiring all of us to create, enjoy and share what we love right here at home.
All photos are courtesy of Hena Aposhian unless otherwise noted.





Great article. However, it states: “Another favorite spot in Shorja is the Soviet-era Writers’ House (Nkarichneri Tun).”
In fact, this is a mistranslation. Nkarichneri Tun means Artists’ House; Writers’ House should be translated as Grokhneri Tun.
Or, rather, Painters’ house.