The Whispering Stones of Tanahati Monastery

The road to Tanahati Monastery is a journey through time itself, a passage that weaves through the very fabric of history. As I approached the 8th-century monastery, nestled between the rugged embrace of the mountains, I felt the whispers of the past echoing through the stones. The air was thick with the scent of ancient tales, stories of monks who once walked these paths, their footsteps now lost to the ages.

The architecture of the monastery was a testament to the resilience and creativity of the Armenian people. The intricate carvings and the solemn beauty of the stone structures spoke of a time when faith and art were intertwined. As I wandered through the ruins of Gladzor University nearby, I could almost hear the voices of scholars debating the mysteries of the universe, their words carried away by the winds of time.

The landscape around Tanahati was a canvas painted with the hues of history, each rock and tree a silent witness to the passage of centuries. It was a place where the past and present coexisted, a reminder of the enduring spirit of a people who have weathered the storms of time.

Echoes of Yeghegis Village

Yeghegis Village, a place where the echoes of history linger in the air, was my next destination. The village, once a thriving economic and political center, now stood as a testament to the passage of time. The Zorats Church, also known as Saint Stepanos, rose from the earth like a sentinel, its stones bearing the scars of centuries of conflict and resilience.

Walking through the village, I felt the weight of history pressing down upon me. The stories of the Orbelian Dynasty, the invasions of Timur, and the forced exiles of the Armenian people were etched into the very fabric of the land. Yet, amidst the ruins and the echoes of the past, there was a sense of hope, a feeling that the spirit of the people who once called this place home still lingered.

The villagers, descendants of those who had returned after the Sumgait pogrom, welcomed me with open arms. Their hospitality was a reminder that even in the face of adversity, the human spirit endures. As I sipped tea with them, I felt a connection to the past, a bond forged through shared stories and a common history.

A Feast for the Senses in Yeghegis

The final leg of my journey took me to a place where the senses were awakened by the beauty of the landscape and the flavors of Armenian cuisine. Lunch in Yeghegis was a feast for the senses, a celebration of the rich culinary traditions of the region. Surrounded by the breathtaking views of the mountains, I savored dishes that were a testament to the diversity and creativity of Armenian cooking.

The ruins of the Church of St. Virgin Mary stood as a silent guardian over the village, a reminder of the enduring faith of the Armenian people. As I wandered through the ruins, I felt a sense of peace, a connection to something greater than myself. The church, though battered by time, still stood as a symbol of hope and resilience.

As I left Yeghegis, I carried with me the stories of the people and the land, tales of a past that still resonates in the present. The journey through Vernashen was more than just a tour; it was a pilgrimage through history, a reminder of the enduring spirit of a people who have faced the trials of time with grace and strength.