Mardin

and it's true stones have become poems here...
encaramada en la cima de una montaña y con sus paredes de barro, inconspicuas casi, uno ni diría algo así puede tan siquiera existir, pero acércate, y veras los portales, pórticos, arcos, façadas, barandas, cúpulas.. tal vez lo más bello es que se puede volver uno con la montaña....

una sinfonía de arte, y una sinfonía mezclada. Una ciudad donde las torres minarets de las mezquitas y las torres campanarias de las iglesias se alzan por igual al cielo, cada una con su estilo, cada una con su fervor. Muchas mil civilizaciones pasaron por aquí, y lo hermoso fue que cada una dejó su huella
y lo más bello fue que la siguiente civilización no destruyó lo anterior. Grande el cocinero que se da cuenta que cada ingrediente le añade sabor a la sopa, ¿no? :)
me recuerda todo un poco a Noto, aquella poesía en Sicilia , o será que Noto me recuerdaba a Mardin?

capitulo dos

Chapter Two.
Because it does feel that way...
Behind are the rides next to the sea, behind are rides crossing valleys, and those endless up and down the mountains. It feels like i went up a mountain a few days ago and have stayed there since. The embrace of this mountain - embrace, warmth and kindness - have taken me to the highlands, a huge plateau broken at times by rivers and gorges.....
Another way of looking at this is to say I've gone from Tantuni, Adana Kebap, Kunefe and Bici Bici to Baklava, Katmer, Urfa Kebap and Cig Kofte ... different ways of saying the same thing ;)

The "choice of one road" while riding, the one road choice going West to East has broken into many choices, many of little roads, much like a vein going across the body: from a big one, a smaller one to another smaller one to then 10thousand of mini ones.
And that way, from small to smaller, I ride from village to village.
Waving at each smile, marvelled at the sight of fruit and the sound of birds.

I can ride no more than an hour before someone stops me to invite me for tea :)  and then puts a bag of pistachos in my pockets :D

and the roads goes along crops as it turns and whirls....
reds and whites and greens and yellows... all together for a symphony of food...

and I ride high into a mountain... and stay there when the lights go out....

to then come down and find a beautiful jewel of a city






and riding into a city is now almost a historical experience. The doors of Mesopotamia in front of me, crossing the Euphrates by boat and then plunging in it as they did 5000 years ago....
Just like 5000 years ago, I'm also looking for something to trade. Even if a smile or a story.
Or a pair of shoes :)






In the cities, the streets are narrow. Small hills make getting lost an exciting experience. Lime colours reflecting the sunlight, small drains that carry rain water that hasnt come in months...


while other cities are sand everywhere, sand dunes covering the first university in the world....


 Mosques semisubmergeed in water, cities almost forgotten by time, sunrises with not one around to see them, and even wildlife trying to cross the roads...

The (new) experience continues....