The Journey to Sumela: A Dance with History

The road to Sumela Monastery is a winding one, both literally and metaphorically. As our minibus navigated the serpentine paths leading to the Altındere National Park, I found myself reflecting on the twists and turns of my own life. The journey was a reminder of the paths we choose, the ones we leave behind, and the ones that lead us to unexpected destinations. Our guide, whose name escapes me, was a beacon of knowledge, sharing tales of the monastery’s storied past as we traveled. His words painted a vivid picture of a place that has withstood the ravages of time, much like the human spirit.

Upon arrival, the sight of the Sumela Monastery clinging to the mountainside was nothing short of breathtaking. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of pine and the whispers of history. As I walked the forest path leading to the monastery, I felt a sense of reverence for the monks who once called this place home. The frescoes, though vandalized, spoke of a time when faith was etched into stone, a testament to the resilience of belief. Sitting in the café, sipping coffee, I pondered the impermanence of life and the enduring nature of art.

Zigana and the Echoes of the Silk Road

Leaving Sumela, we ventured through the Zigana Pass, a route once traversed by the likes of Marco Polo. The landscape was a tapestry of rugged beauty, each turn revealing a new vista. The Zigana Tunnel, a marvel of modern engineering, was a stark contrast to the ancient paths it bypassed. As we emerged from the tunnel, the world seemed to open up, a reminder of the vastness of the journey ahead.

The Karaca Caves were a hidden gem, their stalactites and stalagmites forming a natural cathedral. Walking through the illuminated pathways, I was struck by the beauty that lies beneath the surface, both in nature and in ourselves. The cheese and spinach crepe I enjoyed afterward was a simple pleasure, a reminder that sometimes the most profound experiences are found in the mundane.

Hamsiköy: A Village of Reflection

Our final stop was Hamsiköy, a village nestled in the mountains, known for its rice pudding. As I sat with my bowl of Sutlaci, I reflected on the journey. The village, though unassuming, offered a moment of quiet introspection. The drizzle that began to fall mirrored my own contemplative mood, a gentle reminder of the transient nature of travel and life.

As we made our way back to Trabzon, the rhythmic hum of the minibus lulled me into a peaceful slumber. The day’s journey had been one of discovery, not just of places, but of self. In the end, it was a reminder that travel is not just about the destinations we reach, but the paths we take to get there. Each step, each moment, a part of the tapestry of our lives.