I Go Deep Into The Well

This is an excerpt from my trip to Khor Virap when I was in Armenia in 2007:

Today, I went to Khor Virap with another pal, Michael, from Germany. I've told you how I've had a hard time with people staring. I'm really getting over it and while I notice it, I don't much care anymore. And traveling with Michael - well, he's about 7 feet tall so you can imagine the looks. But folks are just wonderful to us. While we were waiting for the marshrutka to fill, the driver bought us coffee and a military officer wrote down the times of the return marshrutkas on a napkin and everyone made sure we understood about the times and where the marshrutkas picked us up.

Khor Virap means deep well. St. Gregory the Illuminator (Krikor Lusavorich) was tortured and imprisoned at the bottom of this well for 13 years by King Trdat III. In 301, the king suffered from some weird sickness (some legends say he sprouted a boar's head) and St. Gregory cured him. The King was so grateful that he adopted Christianity at the country's official religion making Armenia the first Christian nation. The well now has a building over the top but I went down into the well. The ladder would never pass OSHA standards although I felt really safe because the passage down was so narrow, I could wedge my back against the back wall. Kind of like rock climbing. The well is about 12 feet in diameter and doesn't look like a fun place to call home.

The day was gorgeous and we were very close to Ararat. In the picture, behind me you may see a fence. Beyond the fence about one-half mile is the Arax River. On the other side (including Ararat) is Turkey. Kind of creepy although it's such beautiful country.
After Khor Virap, Michael and I walked through a vast cemetary. Many of the stones are engraved with eerily like-like portraits of the people. I did find a Mooradian gravesite there but no Markarian or Kouzoujians. But we also only saw about a tenth of it.

Michael and I wandered back to the main road to wait for the autobus - we had a 45 minute wait. I car stopped and asked if we wanted a ride. The driver was a man named Mikhail Tsanturian and he was with his son. He ended up driving us into Yerevan (we bought extra gas for him) and we swore undying friendship and he invited us to come to his village of Lasarat in September when the grapes are harvested and wine and vinegar are made.

So right now I am very much at peace and contentment. I still want to get home to my family but the richness of Armenian life is very present in my thoughts. I still get stared at, I still struggle with the language and I am tired of traveling. But I am so glad I've stayed three weeks - it's helped me to relax, be patient and drink it all in.

Gevorg Dabaghyan, Vache Sharafyan and NCOA - Komitas

Helping Rafaelyan family in Mrgashat with AVC.wmv

How Can I Thank Everyone?

I've received four donations already for my Armenia Building Fund. I don't know quite how to express my gratitude for the generosity and kindness. People have been digging deep into their pockets even during this time of economic hardship. One of the donors told me that her contribution was so little - just a week's worth of fancy donuts at a drive thru.

So I thank those who have donated, those who haven't yet and those who won't be able to. You are all wonderful, loving and caring people and I'm honored to know you.

I'm including a picture here of my friend, Bal Balducci. Bal and I and Rick Thanem would get together to play middle eastern music. Bal was a wonderful dumbeg player who died two years ago right before his favorite holiday, Halloween. I'll carry Bal's spirit with me when I go out tomorrow night as the Hulk.

Little Grandma and the Duduk

For years, a family story has been told and retold. When my mom and dad were married, my dad smoked a pipe. As my dad learned more about mom's side of the family, he became very close with Little Grandma Miriam. When mom and dad would go to Akron to visit, Grandma Miriam would see him and call out "Duduk, Bill, duduk." Or in her accent, "Doodook, Beel, doodook."

For years we assumed that duduk meant "pipe" and it may very well mean that. But as I learned about the Armenian woodwind instrument, the Duduk, it dawned on me that Grandma was making a wonderful joke. She was likening my dad's use of the tobacco pipe to the instrument, the Duduk.

I am so gladdened to think of this and how Grandma's memory comes back to me whenever I play the Duduk. I have the picture you see below on my wall and often play tunes to her. She is alive again...

The Temple at Garni, Armenia

Father Komitas

Mount Ararat - The Holy Mountain of Armenia

I Prepare for the Next Journey

Hi All, I am planning on my next trip to Armenia. I will go in the summer of 2012. One of the main reasons I am going to is work with the Fuller Center for Housing Armenia (http://fullercenterarmenia.org/en/home). I am raising money for supplies and building materials. My goal is $2,000.00. You can help me by clicking on the DONATE button on the right side of my blog. Even the smallest amount will help.

Thank you so much - Shad shnorhagalutyun
Bob