I hadn’t gauged the intensity of the mountain, the vast solitude of the grey plain shades and the immense summer heat of my native territory. Ararat captivated me, conquered me and intoxicated me. It sat impossibly, unnaturally high and I began to realize that its loss is as deep a wound as the loss of life has been for Armenians.
We travelled for almost fifteen hours in a minibus, crossing three boarders. I gazed at the passing landscape through the dusty windows and to make sure no one distracted me I put on my headphones even though I wasn’t listening to any music. As the road finally left behind the urban noise all became superfluous and insignificant and a pure silent landscape opened up. Weather beaten, yet so authentic I felt a sense of turmoil, a disturbing languor, the dirge of loss and in contrast the hope of reunification.
Like conquerors back to challenge history, I owed it to myself to take on this challenge.Essential to my imagination and symbolizing the hopes of a future we planted our vines. They will struggle with all the force of their lives to fulfill themselves according to their own laws. But they will not betray the mountain.
We struggled and pushed ahead. The energy hummed and vibrated. There was an irresistible physical aspect but also a palpable, emphatic, prophetic aspect of the mountain.
The summit was ours…….
No matter where I go in the world I will never feel as incredible as I did at that moment on the peak of Mount Ararat.
ZORAH – 6000 years of history in every bottle