Ask and you shall receive...

Hi...I'm Lori

I've been reading the blogs on Cilicia.com for years and today I saw Raffi's "gotch" for new diaspora bloggers. I felt compelled to step up since my cousin Shooshig is part of the reason Raffi needs "fresh blood". It's only fitting that someone from our bloodline do something to help rectify the situation.

I was born in Little Armenia (I'm very proud that I was born within walking distance of Falafel Arax and Zankou. That reminds me, the 2nd Annual Armenian Independence Day Street Festival in Little Armenia is next weekend so I'll blog about that after I attend) I spent the first couple decades of my life attending Armenian schools and being involved in various Armenian organizations. About 8 years ago I moved to the South Bay and I currently reside in Hermosa Beach.

My first visit to Armenia was back in 1997. That visit was one of mixed feelings and emotions. Seeing Yerevan's "veejag" in those days was a tad depressing and I found myself wondering if this was what independence meant. I couldn't help but think of all the songs I'd heard about Yerevan and it's splendor and wonder where it was. Since that first trip a decade ago I have visited Armenia numerous times and each time I see how far Armenia has come and my senses of pride and faith are renewed. I don't even recognize Yerevan anymore, she's amazing!

During that first trip in '97 I also went to Artsakh where I got to spend time with locals and listen to their stories about what they had been through. I heard them singing "Tajan Gurvoum" and the song took on a WHOLE new meaning. They were singing about people they had known, and here I was with these people who had made the liberation of Kharapagh possible playing cards and picnicking at Kantzasar. It was surreal.

I will also NEVER forget the first time I saw Mount Ararat. I was climbing up the stairs of AUA and I turned around to say something to my cousin and the words I was uttering got caught in my throat, I couldn't find my breath and felt like the wind had been knocked out of me and I just stared in amazement at the grandeur of this gigantic mountain that I had learned about in history books, heard about in poems and seen in pictures that clearly didn't do it any justice. There it was staring right back at me, smiling at me and all I could do is stare at it in silence as tears streamed down my face.

What I'm getting at here is this...I have traveled all around Greece, Italy, Prague, Amsterdam, Cuba...etc. No place in the world has been as infectious as Armenia. I remember looking at the sun setting over the Corinthian canal in Greece and hearing my trip mates rave about the beauty of the mountains and just thinking "If they only knew how beautiful the hills of Artsakh are! If they only knew what Ararat is like" but I wonder now.... would they know? Would they get it? The point is I do. I get it and I aspire to one day follow in my beloved cousin Shooshig's and my father's footsteps and become a repat but until that time comes, I hope you'll enjoy my blogs about my life here in the diaspora.