A millennial’s guide to Western Armenia

P/Bari yekak! (“Welcome”) This is Diyarbakir’s sole remaining road sign depicting the Armenian language, so of course, we frantically pulled aside to take a snap!

Cafes are truly a transfixing experience here. This coffee shop, Sülüklü Han, dates back several centuries. Its beautiful Arabesque style is a staple of Diyarbakir’s unique architecture. Since the government confiscated the city’s sole remaining Armenian church last year, many hidden Armenians congregate here. (Photo: Laura Michaels)

Mulberry, basil, and rose flavored juice shots with a side of lokum = breakfast of champions? With a sugary spread like this, there is never any shortage of conversation at the table. We sat with a few once-hidden Armenians and listened to their “coming out” stories. I winked at the timid 12-year-old boy sitting across from me. He smiled and leaned into his father, who told us how he hasn’t seen his mother—this boy’s grandmother—in four years, because she refuses to accept them as Armenians. We soon came to realize that this dichotomy of an innocuous exterior masking a sobering truth is the very essence of Diyarbakir.

Pro tip: Order the menengiç kahvesi (the coffee in the photo... the one on the right). This surprisingly non-caffeinated, pistachioed goodness is a game changer for all coffee-based drinks going forward!

After getting jittery at the cafe, make sure to pay a visit to the small bookstore around the corner, which is run by a hidden Armenian. This dimly lit underground establishment (door on the right) contains several Armenian books, though mainly in the Turkish language, and an assortment of beautiful scarves for purchase.

It’s even more breathtaking in person...

This is the famous Sulukh Bridge in Mush where legendary fedayee (freedom fighter), Gevorg Chavush, was mortally wounded in a battle against the Ottoman army in 1907.

To say that you will learn a lot from them is an understatement... (Photo: Khatchig Mouradian)

Armenian American writer, William Saroyan, said it best: “Destroy Armenia. See if you can do it. See if the race will not live again when two of them meet in a beer parlor, twenty years after, and laugh, and speak in their tongue.” Our meeting with the hidden Armenians of Diyarbakir was not in a beer parlor, but it was during Ramadan, so we rolled with the punches… (Photo: Khatchig Mouradian)

Meet Ohannes (formerly Mustafa): a history professor and connoisseur of all things Armenian in Kharpert.

Visit some of the friendly locals in Kharpert for fresh homemade bread and tan (cold yogurt drink).

Sit on the porch of an old man in Erzurum who tells you, a complete stranger, that his home is your home. Then, watch his chickens flock to you. The personal stories of these villagers are truly remarkable; in their eyes, you see just how much they crave truth and justice.

Hardly anyone visits the last Armenian cemetery in Diyarbakir, so a van full of tourists heading in made for some awkward stares from locals.

Pro tip: Wear long pants here and on every hike you take in Western Armenia. Any exposed skin will come under the wrath of long, dry grass, which will cut and itch for days afterward (Unfortunately, I found out about this too late!).

Baydzar Eken was long known as the “last Armenian of Diyarbakir.” She spoke in the local Armenian dialect and had just renewed her vows with husband, Sarkis, a month prior to her passing. Shortly after her death, Sarkis passed away and is buried beside her.

The gatekeeper (left), a Kurdish man with Armenian roots, is the third generation in his family to care for the cemetery and has had serious altercations with gravediggers who loot the site at night to search for buried gold and jewels.

His teenage son, beaming with pride for his father, is poised to take the reins after him.

You may be familiar with Mesrop Mashtots, the monk who is credited with creating the Armenian alphabet in the early 5th century. Well, he reportedly lived in one of these caves, up in the mountains of Palu.

The entire expanse is scattered with Ancient Urartian stones and carvings. Similar to Romans being the forefathers of today’s Italians, many regard Urartians as a proto or pre-Armenian civilization.

Steep cliffs, rolling hills, lush greens, winding rivers—is this Western Armenia or Middle Earth? If you’re an Armenian from Detroit or Rhode Island or Worcester, Mass., chances are you have an ancestor from Kharpert (or one of its surrounding villages). This image of the scenery in Palu is proof that the exquisite beauty your grandparents described to you is, truly, not an exaggeration. Feel like packing your bags yet?

When you think of Lake Van, what comes to mind? Perhaps an image of ancient royals vacationing on her blue waters, or the story of Tamar and her lover who drowned while swimming to her in the middle of the night? Well, the reality is equally as dazzling as the fables. Think Albert Hitchcock’s "Birds" combined with Elysian Fields; that is Gdouts island (meaning “bird’s nest”) in a nutshell. One of four islands on Lake Van, Gdouts is the perfect combination of secluded paradise and rackety ghost town—or, in this case, isle.

Birds migrate to this uninhabited island in the summer to lay their eggs.

Pro tip: If you choose to visit during this season, keep your head down and covered, unless you really want that avian “good luck".

Swimming in Lake Van. Do it.

Because of this 9th century B.C. Urartian fortress, which overlooks the old town of Van.

And these serene trees that mark the old Van marketplace, inside the walls of the fortress. Armenian merchants used to congregate here to sell their products.

With the exception of Akhtamar, all of the islands of Lake Van contain graffitied and dilapidated Armenian churches. However, in this church, the writing on the wall is different from the rest. The translation: “Long live a free, independent, and united Armenia.”

How many Armenians do you know named Ani? This isn’t really a coincidence. Known as the “City of 1001 Churches,” Ani was once the seat of a medieval Armenian dynasty and was renowned for its bustling trading routes, religious buildings, and artistic structures. At its height, it was one of the world’s most formidable cities. After invasions, earthquakes, and a host of other disasters, this once amazing city became largely forgotten for several centuries. Today, it is an uninhabited museum just a stone’s throw away from the Armenian border. The official border is the Akhurian River (right).

Walking through the main path, poet Hovhannes Shiraz’s words, “Let me see Ani before I die” imbue a sense of rejuvenation. Instead of resigning to defeat, one becomes more empowered here. Perhaps it’s the Armenian flag and village in the distance. We even spotted a white horse roaming free by the horizon (that white speck near the top of the photo).

Pro tip: Since Ani is now a paid museum, plan to spend about three hours roaming the complex. Though none of the signs mention the Armenian history of the city, you can use the opportunity to politely educate oblivious tourists, should you choose (But exercise caution. Kars is a known hostile city for Armenians).

A panorama of an Armenian church in Kars, north of Ani. The Armenian border is in the horizon.

A khachkar (cross-stone) in the rubble, outside the ruins of an Armenian church in Mush. Some who visit Western Armenia choose to take a piece or two back to their homes in the diaspora, but this is where they belong—on this land, with their creators.

We’ve all seen the iconic pictures of Mount Ararat; those who are lucky enough to have witnessed their beauty from Armenia know just how breathtaking the view is in person. Here is a look from the “other side,” where Masis is on the left and Sis is on the right.

The Tigris River: It is said that during the genocide, this river ran red with the blood of Armenian victims. Today, the bodies have been washed away but their souls never left. They patiently await our return.