A priceless opportunity to connect to our roots

Editor’s note: This article appeared in the Armenian Weekly’s June 2026 magazine, “Reclaiming Home and Heritage,” which explores how the Armenian community maintains its heritage and culture following genocide and displacement. The issue was edited by Weekly magazine editor Pauline Getzoyan. My expectations were rather low as I prepared to visit Armenian sites in Istanbul and then Western Armenia (Turkey) with the National Association for Armenian Studies and Research (NAASR) last summer. I had already extensively explored several such sites in Western Armenia the previous year and had briefly visited Istanbul many years ago. While I was looking forward to the distraction of foreign travel, I assumed that I already knew what to expect when looking for Armenian traces in Turkey — a handful of poignant remnants of our persecuted people whose livelihoods and culture had been shattered by the Genocide, all overshadowed by omnipresent and excessive Turkish nationalism. In many ways, I was wrong. Instead, this trip was a profoundly moving and inspiring experience that instilled a renewed sense of appreciation and pride in the richness of our Armenian history and in our enduring existence in Turkey. Istanbul’s Armenian presence largely survived the Genocide; the physical structures of many Armenian sites, as well as Armenian craftsmanship, remain intact, and as a result, it is still possible to experience the richness of the Istanbul Armenian community over the centuries and into today. For example, the Armenian Patriarchate Museum contains innumerable examples of exquisitely crafted Armenian iconography and sacred ornaments on par with the best in the world — Armenian or otherwise — incredibly detailed and beautiful silver religious objects, rich tapestries, enormous bells with Armenian inscriptions and illuminated manuscripts. Likewise, the numerous vibrant Armenian churches in Istanbul contain stunning domes, impressive chandeliers, ornate altars, gorgeous icons and religious paintings, carved marble interiors, impressive bell towers and stunning devotional items. It is a testament to our people’s deep devotion to Christianity that some of our most beautiful and intricate craftsmanship was made in reverence to our religion and faith. But what surprised me the most is the strength of the Armenian community in Istanbul. Naively, I had expected to see a small and pitiful populace, so persecuted and traumatized by centuries of Turkish oppression that all Armenian religious and cultural expression had been snuffed out in order for them to survive. Instead, I was amazed to learn that the numerous Armenian churches in Istanbul hold services, not only on Sundays but throughout the week, with engaged congregations and vibrant choirs at each mass. Indeed, we were blessed to join congregants of one Armenian church for a post-service meal; not only were we feted with delicious, homemade delicacies that reminded us of our grandmothers’ cooking, but we were embraced with a genuine warmth that forged instant connections. Armenian bookstores and publishing houses in Istanbul are preserving historical Armenian publications and generating new ones, all of which are eagerly consumed. The national pride and resilience of the Armenian community in Istanbul may not be as extroverted as our compatriots elsewhere in the world, but in some ways it is more moving and arguably more meaningful. In the face of unrelenting hardships and discrimination, the Bolsahye community has managed not only to survive but to quietly thrive. The Armenians of Istanbul remain justifiably proud of what they have built and eager to nurture creative new cultural endeavors, all without attracting unnecessary attention from the Turkish government — a delicate and inspiring balancing act. While I truly love my visits to the Republic of Armenia, my connection there sometimes remains on an intellectual level. In contrast, I felt an immediate emotional connection when interacting with Bolsahyes, likely because my grandparents and ancestors had lived in the Ottoman Empire. Their dialect, the cadence and inflection of their spoken Armenian, their terms of endearment, mannerisms, culinary dishes and spices all instantly reminded me of some of my fondest childhood memories with my grandparents. I experienced both nostalgia and a sense of gratitude that these linguistic variations and cultural traditions are still being utilized and honored today as an integral part of daily Armenian life. Perhaps my most memorable experiences in Istanbul were visiting locations directly related to the lives of my Bolsahye ancestors. It was especially poignant to locate and visit the graves of my ancestors at Armenian cemeteries across Istanbul. To be physically close to each of them for the first time and to silently pay my respects to their personal struggles and accomplishments was deeply moving, particularly amid the graves of Armenian clergy, poets, statesmen, architects and individuals who too had raised strong families and added to the fabric of Western Armenian life. Walking among these souls, it was impossible not to feel a sense of continuity across the centuries, as well as a debt of gratitude for their sacrifices and the opportunities they made possible for us. I also had the opportunity to visit the Essayan Armenian School where my paternal great-uncle had taught girls mathematics and Armenian language from the early 1900s until after World War II. It was incredibly gratifying to walk the halls of this school, as well as several other Armenian schools in Istanbul, and to see that they are still filled with Armenian students eager to learn and taught by dedicated and talented Armenian educators. My most moving experience was visiting my maternal grandmother’s ancestral village of Bardizag (a two-hour drive from Istanbul) with my maternal Bolsahye cousin, who also had never been to Bardizag. Like my grandmother, my aunt had been so traumatized by the Genocide that she refused to speak of her life in Bardizag; the only place she happened to mention to my cousin was a village spring where she had fetched water as a child. While our understanding that virtually nothing Armenian remains in Bardizag unfortunately proved to be true, we were stunned to discover a still-functioning spring whose name translates to “Papaz’s Water” — a clear reference to an Armenian priest or a Papazian family. While it is unknown if this was the exact well that our ancestors had used, it was genuinely touching to realize that something with clear Armenian roots continues to flourish today, and it may well have been tied to my ancestors’ daily lives. Exploring historic Western Armenia (the interior of Turkey) with Khatchig Mouradian and NAASR proved poignant as well. We began our adventures on the Syrian border in Vakif, the last Armenian village in Turkey, where we enjoyed live Musa Daghtsi music and dancing, an Armenian Apostolic church service, the Blessing of the Grapes and madagh cooked overnight in massive metal pots over roaring flames. We climbed a mountain in Sassoun aided by villagers who still spoke a few words of Armenian. The trek (in 100 degree temperatures and at high elevations, incredibly steep inclines and across constantly shifting pebbles and rocks) certainly was not for the faint of heart. At the mountain peak, I was brought to tears recalling the resistance of our Sassountsi compatriots, viewing the mountains of Moush in the distance, joining our fellow pilgrims singing the Hayr Mer (Lord’s Prayer) in the ruins of the Armenian monastery and dancing traditional Armenian steps together. For me, the most beautiful Armenian structure we saw in Western Armenia was the St. Bartholomew Monastery in Bashkale, on the Iranian border. Believed to be the site where this apostle of Christ was buried, the grandeur of its facade is breathtaking and largely still intact. The interior walls are covered with crosses carved by the Armenians who had made a pilgrimage there over thousands of years. The monastery escaped much of the destruction and desecration suffered by most other Armenian churches in Turkey’s interior during and since the Genocide, largely because a Turkish military base had surrounded, and thus protected, it until recently. Walking within several Urartian fortresses atop mountain ranges in Adana and Sis is an inspiring reminder of ancient Armenian power. Their walls protected Armenians from hostile invaders over thousands of years. To see Armenian lettering carved into the stone walls of a church within one of the fortresses was particularly moving, and these treks powerfully reminded me of our people’s collective strategic vision, advanced masonry, military strength, faith and resilience throughout the millennia. I highly encourage everyone to make a pilgrimage to the Armenian sites in Istanbul and Western Armenia, especially with your progeny and compatriots. This trip fundamentally altered the victim narrative that I had somehow internalized, leaving me with a more nuanced perspective of our people. Admittedly, visiting Turkey as an Armenian, it is impossible not to be deeply saddened and incredibly angered by the constant evidence of what has been stolen from us by the Genocide (and frankly for thousands of years before that). However, continuing to explore with intentionality (and guided by those with expert knowledge of where to look and what you are seeing), it becomes possible to catch stunning glimpses of the majesty of our culture within the shadows and ruins. And those glimpses can provide a priceless opportunity to connect to our roots, be powerfully reminded of our resilience despite unimaginable hardships, and ultimately to realize what we are all capable of — insights that can truly be profound and life changing.

A priceless opportunity to connect to our roots

This story is FREE for you...

Meline Haratunian

This story is FREE for you...

Meline Haratunian

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