Some Surprises....

 April 21

Two days out of Tenerife, in the Canary Islands. Sometime during the night we transited through the straits of Gibraltar, anarrow passage only a few miles wide that separates the Atlantic and Mediterranean Oceans. On either side of our ship, they say about 3:30 in the morning or so, we would have been able to look out the port (left) side of our ship and see Spain, while a glance out the starboard (right) side would have offered us a view of Africa, specifically the dry and arid lands of Morocco.

Now that we are in Europe, we are one step closer to the lands where my great grandparents and grandparents hailed from on my father's side. In five days time we will disembark in Kusadasi, Turkey for the beginning of our land adventure. To say that my feelings similar to that of the average tourist would be the understatement of the year. I'm literally working my way back to the villages they once called home prior to the genocide that saw 1.5 million people literally erased from the planet. To this day, Turkey does not call such an atrocity anything more than a “civil disturbance”, a “misunderstanding” of what really happened. The stories told me by my grandmother don't agree with the government's rendition.

I will state for the record that I hold no animosity to Turkey, its people or the government of this current day and age. It is my simple hope to stand on the ground in Turkey that they once called their home, in effect, coming full circle to the journey they took to survive and make it to America. I am thankful for their efforts to make a better life and to gift that ultimately to me. It was their hard work that led to the money to provide a home and education for themselves, their children, and to me, their grandchild, to be able to live the life I am living now. Without all of these gifts, and with what brains I may genetically owe my DNA to, I would not have been able to have the means to invest, save, learn and step upon the foundations that were provided to get to this point. I return to Turkey to say thank you to them.

As some of you may know, my other half, on my mother's side is of Greek heritage. They arrived in the USA about the time of World War 2, when Germany began to invade Greece and make life and the ability to earn a living impossible under Nazi occupation. That is a different but equally important story to my heritage and an homage to my Greek Heritage and history is to be reserved for another time so that it may take its own center stage.

Returning to the story that is unfolding for me as we make our way across the Mediterranean towards Turkey, I can't help but think of my family tree and the names I have found in my searches of my ancestry. I had grown up believing that I was Armenian but I found, when researching the towns of my grandparents that I am, in reality, a past citizen of Turkey. That makes me of Turkish ancestry with a cultural heritage of Armenian. But the story is even more complex than just that. It turns out that there a number of last names my family held and those last names, in and of themselves, tell stories of my true heritage. Garabedian is an Armenian name. Dervishian, also an Armenian name of my family heritage, is in reality much more.

Let me explain. You, the dear reader, will need to read this part if you are to understand what I will present in the next paragraphs. Armenian last names are patriarchal in nature. If you hear an English name such as “Jameson” or “Richardson”, you know that Jamison means “Jame's son” and 'Richardson' means 'Son of Richard'. Armenian names are similarly arranged. 'Garabedian' means 'Son of Garabed' and 'Dervishian' means 'Son of a Dervish'.

Wait a minute.....

One of my familial last names is Dervishian? That means that part of my family heritage is of the dervishes. Surely you must have heard in your travels of the “Whirling Dervishes”. The stereotypical brightly costumed women with long and highly colorful skirts whirling in unison on the dance floors to the sound of some Arabic beat music. That's part of my heritage? Really? I looked a bit more into this and found out that the Dervishes themselves were not Christians, (as the majority of Armenians are) and they are not Muslim or Jewish for that fact. No. The Dervishes were part of an ancient religion, the Sufis, a religion far more ancient than Christianity. The founder of the Whirling Dervishes was a poet by the name of Hazret Mevlana Rumi. They are known as Whirling Dervishes because, as part of their religious celebration practices, their dance finds them whirling in unison, eyes closed and hands outstretched upward, as if reaching to the heavens of God, spinning until they are in an ecstatic state of dizziness as an attempt to unite with God.

So apparently I'm also part Dervish and have a historical past record of religion that includes being Sufi. Will surprises never cease.

I will end my blog post here but will add a teaser that there is more that will come that will surprise most of you. The stage is not set yet for this act in the play that is my life, but it will be in time. For now, let us both find surprise in what will come in the ensuing days and share in it together as we press forward, moving ever east, to become “Lost in Armenia”.

Cheers.....

Coffee grounds tell fortunes they say. Add a coin for positive luck.