When we were told that we would be traveling to Armenia the summer of August 2015, all things I ever deemed to be reality seemed surreal in the realest of forms. I am a member of an Armenian dance group called, Akh'Tamar Dance Ensemble which consists of a total of 75 male and female dancers, ranging from the ages of 6 to 30. Now, as a rambunctiously loving bunch, and the people I call my second family, taking pride in our culture as Armenians is something we carry with us every day of our lives. Our dream of going to the mother land was exactly that for a couple years...just a dream; however, when given the news that we were actually going to hop on a plane after months of intensive practices and hard work, our one big dream was soon discovered to become a very actual reality.

I never traveled out of the country without my parents, let alone anyone for that matter, however I knew when that morning came, I was in good hands, (like I said my dance group IS my second family). The thought of being on an airplane for 10 hours though did not seem like the most ideal of sleeping arrangements, but hey, if you want to see the world, you're going to have to deal with the foot cramps and watching the same movie eight times (I'm not making this up, I watched "The Cheetah Girls" eight times...no shame). OK, passed all airport security, bought a passion fruit Vitamin Water, played some charades, and ate a really good Caesar salad surprisingly, the time had come to get on the actual plane. Here we go.

The first four hours were fine, because they consisted of only pure imagination. Imagination of what Armenia would be like. What would it look like through my eyes? What would it smell like? Will I understand the Eastern dialect easily or will it be a struggle, (I think it's safe to say it was pretty difficult, considering that I gave one of the street vendors at Vernissage Market, 20 more drams than I actually owed him...it's OK we worked it out after 25 minutes of trying to figure out what he was saying). Will I feel different once I step foot on actual Armenian grounds, the grounds of my ancestors? The adrenaline rush running through my body just by me thinking about what it would be like when I actually got there, was a feeling that convinced me the whole experience would be life changing; and let me tell you something...it was.

OK, now we landed, landed at Zvartnotz International Airport. "Oh my god, I'm actually in Armenia I cannot believe it." I swear that was the one sentence, repeating itself in my head non-stop for the first, oh I don't know, the whole time I was there. The feeling was epic. You know when something feels so right but you don't know how to explain it and you feel like that if you try to explain you'll just take away the beauty of the feeling? Well that's how I felt when I got off that plane. I didn't want to take away the beauty of stepping foot in the country that initially is home. My home. Home sweet home.

During our trip, our dance group performed three heartfelt performances in Gyumri, Karabakh, and Yerevan, all of which left me personally speechless because the mix of all things ranging from pride, happiness, the chills of performing side by side with my brothers and sisters in front of my people was a feeling I honestly do not think I could feel with anything else I do in my own life. Now, although the sensation I got while performing was a sense that lingered with me even months after I came back to America, even till this day even, as I am currently writing this piece, the days where we had to explore our country was a memory bookmarked in my mind for the rest of all eternity.

My favorite spot that we visited was Garni Temple. Garni Temple to me, was probably one of the most beautiful places I have ever visited because of the breathtaking architecture, irreplaceable view, and lastly the culture. The homemade dried fruit sucuks were also a major plus... absolutely delicious, my taste buds were doing the halay.

Now Garni Temple was my favorite spot, however the spot that holds quite a funny story is when we visited Khor Virap. When visiting Khor Virap, we were told that once we got off the bus, we would be offered doves to release when we reached the top of the church, but as revealed in my "The Life of an Ornithophobe" article, I have an immense fear of birds, so holding a dove was not something that was number one on my list. So here I am off the bus, and there he was, the sweet man who was trying to offer me a dove. Process:

I was asked if I wanted the dove and I politely said voch ("No" in Armenian).

I was asked if I wanted the dove again and I politely said cheh (Another variation of "No" in Armenian).

I was followed and then asked if I wanted the dove for the third time and that's when wings were being frustratedly flapped and Nina's anxiety attack began.

After noticing that this little dove was causing me such fear and distress (I'm currently picturing myself now freaking out over an animal that is smaller than me and is usually released at weddings, one of life's most joyous events... so funny I know, not) three of my friends realized that my fear was kicking in and helped me walk up a separate mountain range, just so I would not have to walk to the top of the church, dove in hand. For that I am forever grateful, and I mean that. Oh, and meanwhile, while all of this is happening, I was also in a dance that we performed during this trip called...can you guess? Doves. Love the dance and its grace, terrified of the actual dove.

Even though this article is coming to an end, the memories that Armenia, that home, has brought me, are the memories that will never stop replaying over and over in my mind. The experience of traveling half way across the world with I am telling you the people that truly mean the most to me, is very much so an event in my life that is not only my favorite, but the most life changing. Thank you for your warmest welcome, Armenia. I cannot wait to visit home again.