Artsakh, the motherland

Saturday morning came faster than I had expected. At 7 am, all 35 of us were ready with our bags to embark on our 4-day trip to Artsakh. More commonly known as Nagorno-Karabagh, or Mountainous “Black Garden”, Artsakh is an Armenian territory nestled in between the prickly thorns of Azerbaijan. I remember singing songs about Artsakh in Armenian school as a kid, but never understood anything about it, or why it was important until this trip.

Mount Ararat was especially beautiful on Saturday morning. We stopped a little ways before Khor Virap, to eat some breakfast and take pictures. There were no clouds, and our Ararat made me feel once again, proud to be Armenian. I was wearing my System of a Down t-shirt as well, which only added dramatic effect. We then visited the Tatev Ropeway and monastery. The Tatev Ropeway is the world’s longest ropeway, which obviously cost the country a lot of money. As cool as the ropeway was, I felt like it was a waste of money. Reaching the region of Tatev was difficult enough because it is nestled in the mountains – I can’t see the roads even being accessible in the winter. The main goal was to increase tourism, which is great; however Armenia’s development is progressing so rapidly, I would think the government would want to spend its money in way that would actually impact peoples’ lives instead of just tourism. Lunch at the monastery was really nice. We ate our typical Armenian spread of lavash (bread), tomatoes, cucumbers, pickles, cheese, salami, olives, and peppers inside one of the churches. It was a nice way to cool off and appreciate the intricacy of Armenian architecture. There was a secret passageway in our lunch church which used to lead to some other room, but it actually led pretty much straight off of a cliff. Me being myself, I had to climb down there and enjoy the physical challenge and beauty myself. I swear, it could have been the Garden of Eden, it was so beautiful.

Two steps out of the monastery...and bam! CLIFF

A couple of more landscapes and waterfalls later we reached a suspended bridge that was actually quite long. Many members of our group were too scared to cross it! It wasn’t build according to western standards of course – you could see the water a hundred feet below your feet because the bridge floor was made of a waffle-style grate. Me being myself, I enjoyed shaking the bridge and jumping on it to increase the thrill and irritate others. I even ended up doing a handstand on it. I hope the pictures came out well.

We eventually arrived in Shushi, Artsakh at about 11 pm. At first, Artsakh didn’t seem any different then Armenia. Our host family was great – the couple met each other through Birthright Armenia and ended up moving to Shushi. Their story is incredible, and they have an amazing daughter, Anahid. I think she’s gonna end up being a soccer player one day. She loved kicking around her pink bouncy ball with me. Although Sunday’s activities were kind of slow/boring, I enjoyed riding around in the military vehicle which we took to visit the frontlines of the Artsakh/Azeri border. 

We also visited the Tatik/Papik monument and had an interesting evening, where we were divided into groups, given a bottle of Armenian wine (not the best…), and forced to socialize with the locals. We were told that most of the time, volunteers end up coming out of the apartments not having even opened the wine, but instead given copious amounts of tuti-oghi (vodka). So with high expectations, our group of 5 bravely knocked on a random Stepanakert (capital of Artsakh) apartment and was welcomed in by a family celebrating their daughter’s engagement. The family was nice enough, even though I spent most of the time translating the conversation going on between one of the more ‘talkative’ volunteers and the family’s father. He was extremely anti-American, which made me feel even more reluctant to talk about my life in Washington DC. He did ask an interesting question though – “Do you feel like people treat you differently in the USA because you are Armenian?” I had to think for a minute – growing up in northern Virginia, you don’t pay attention to where people are from because chances are at least 40% of your classmates will be Asian, and the rest a mix of all kinds of ethnicities. So I answered, yes, I feel proud to be one of the few Armenians in Virginia, but no, we are all equal in such a diverse community. We weren’t offered any alcohol, just coffee or tea, so of course my mind began to wander because I can’t sit still. I was even caught not translating anymore because I didn’t care about what they were talking about. Empty conversation = klooghs arten doors neh (my head is already outside).  Stepping into the fresh air an hour and a half later, I was greeted by my fellow gamavors (volunteers) who were blissfully drunk, babbling in various languages. It is not fun being the sober one in a group of drunk people.

The following day was nice because we finally got some free time to wander around Stepanakert by ourselves. Seto and I found an open-air market serving the local specialtiy of Jingalu-hats (bread filled with different kinds of herbs and spices). The woman making it was so nice and showed us how she makes it. The mixture that is put in the bread is full of 17 different kinds of herb and spices, and then Panini-grilled to a crisp perfection. The inside was delightfully garlic-oniony and we topped our meal off with some surj (coffee) and cake. We visited another monastery about an hour away from Stepanakert, which was my favorite part of the trip. It was so secluded in the mountains, and incredibly silent. I appreciate personal space and peace and quiet, so it was my sanctuary. I could really feel God’s presence as He blessed Armenia with such a beautiful landscape. 

Meeting the President of Artsakh was about as exciting as watching paint dry. He was your typical politician – didn’t actually answer any of the questions we asked and told us to research online instead with our ‘ipods & smartphones’. I was close to falling asleep but it ended thankfully and we were released to Saro’s house to have our first kef! That was my first introduction to Armenian toasts. I thought a few people would say something meaningful and philosophic and we would get up to dance. I was wrong. First the people who spoke unique languages were asked to toast, repeating what they said in Armenian or English. I was impressed by the content of the toasts – and was actually brought to tears by a few of them. Ok, back to Ani. I was asked to toast in German…and since everyone decided to say such meaningful things, I did the opposite. I rambled about food in German and decided not to translate anything, as to leave my deutsch up for interpretation. I couldn’t handle sitting down for much longer (already for one hour toasting) so I got up and wandered around outside. Verchabes (finally!), the dancing began and we were all brought back to life.

A few hours of sleep later, we departed from Shushi en route to Yerevan. We stopped at Datevank and had an Armenian picnic consisting of barbecue and more barbecue. The monastery was really nice, but I actually liked playing with the farm animals nearby a lot more. There were lots of cows mooing really loudly and pigs snorting. The baby pigs were so cute! They would get close to me, but not enough to where I could pet them. The baby turkeys were my favorite though. I would whistle at them and they would all bob their heads and squawk back. It was also quite peaceful to spend the afternoon there without any time constraint or pressure. Our drive back to Yerevan was so dusty. The road connecting Artsakh and Armenia was pretty much a dried up dirt road. Literally everything in the van was coated with dust, inside and out. I woke up from a nap choking on dust. One of the coolest things that day was stopping in a village to get some snacks. The locals asked if I am from Syria because I spoke Armenian well (apparently…). That is the greatest compliment to me, because with Yerevancis I always feel too shy to speak Armenian.  

I felt that connection with Artsakh and Armenia that I had so anxiously awaited. The landscape, the peace and tranquility within a war-stricken territory were all points in which I could connect and feel myself and my ancestors living together in Armenia. Despite the hardness of war, the Artsakh locals are such nice people, always ready to help and show us Spyurkahayer a good time. I know that part of me and who I am came from this territory, our real Armenia. They kept stressing that ‘we’, as in themselves and Diasporans, are one. This impression is somewhat missing in Armenia. Upon arrival in Yerevan, the first cab driver we asked to take us home cursed at us because we mentioned that he didn’t have an official meter and sped off. Welcome home...

Le handystand