My Ararat, My Armenia: AYF-YOARF Internship 2015
By Ungerouhi Arev Dinkjian
I’ve been on enough planes in my day to know the procedure—keep carry-on items in the overhead compartment or under the seat in front of you, stay seated with your buckle fastened, no smoking.
After a day of flying, I walked down the aisle of another tiny Aeroflot plane, this time searching for seat 36E. It was the last leg of my trip. Two and a half more hours and I’d be in Armenia.
While I’ve flown plenty of times before, I couldn’t help but feel like this was my very first time. I didn’t sleep a wink, I was eager to discover what snack the flight attendant would bring, I fidgeted with the pull-out tray in front of me.
And then the clouds cleared away so that I could see land. Is that it? Is that my Armenia? I pressed my face up against the window for so long that I had to peel away just to wipe clean the condensation left behind by my excited breath.
I’ve been told that the best view of Ararat is from the plane. So, for the last hour or so of my flight, I searched relentlessly for it. What if I pass it and I don’t even realize? I’ve seen it so many times before but perhaps in person I won’t recognize it.
Terrified that I’d miss my chance, I convinced myself that any twin-peaked mountain was my beautiful Ararat. I even went so far as to take pictures of those look-alike mountains.
Feeling a bit defeated, I tore my eyes from the tiny plane window and dozed off for a bit. I was woken by the tickling rays of the setting sun shining through the glass pane.
There it is. The plane had descended low enough for the earth to showcase its beauty to all those aboard and right in the center of its magic was my Ararat. There was no mistaking it for anything else than what it was.
A beacon of unwavering hope, a portrayal of captivating beauty, a welcome from my new home.