Back to Garni and Geghart today.
Took a family for a visit, Ozanians. They’ve somehow related to General Antranig. Though the exact relationship is an unsolved puzzle.
On the way to Geghart we encounter herds of sheep. Stop the minibus and take pictures of sheep, donkeys, and shepherd.
Next picture at Geghart, I am photographing them with the khatchkar wall as the background; a local teenage boy approaches, gives his camera to me and asks for a group picture with Ozanians. ‘Why would he want a picture with us?’ they ask and conclude that the young guy’s fascination is similar to what they have shown to the shepherd.
We go back to the area where ‘madagh’ is slaughtered. I am relieved to see the floor clean, no fresh blood spelt. We see a group of local young teenagers. Carol is a people’s person and starts a conversation. Uses the few Armenian words she remembers from her childhood.
Click, click, everyone is taking pictures. Carol asks for an Armenian song; the girls sing. More pictures, hugs and kisses to Carol. It is a graduating class of Toumanian School, from Akhalkalak, Javakhk.
I get an invitation to Javakhk, a phone number and a name.
I thought they were locals, but why should they look different. They are Armenians.
No Armenian language skills but a pilgrimage from US to Armenia, to the fatherland of their parents; Young Armenians from Javakhk and an excursion to Geghart and me.
AREN’t we amazing?