Propagating Kurdish Nationalist Influence (Sanliurfa, Turkey)

The perfect symmetry of the yellow stoned arches mirrored in Balikligöl pond only lasts a second. It is broken by the chaotic splashing of a few holy fish crowd surfing over the thousands more with mouths babbling ready for the feeding frenzy. They’re here because of a legend dating back millennia.

Sitting in the shade of a large tree outside the Cave of Ibrahim, I watch my hot çay tea sweat in the agonizing heat that is summer in Şanlıurfa. Reflecting on the historic significance of what I just witnessed is feverishly difficult. This is the cave where Abraham, the very same Abraham from the Old Testament, was born.

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A Frightful Night with House Red (Melnik, Bulgaria)

The rain has been pouring down all day and with increasing fury as daylight faded behind the night’s heavy clouds. Yet I sit outside, braving the storm on a humid terrace under a dry umbrella. The night is roaring thunder – its rolling downhill from a stone street, bouncing off the exposed rocks.  It frightens with sharp intensity. It grumbles like a hungry stomach with a strong metabolism. And it is expected but shouts long after patient prediction permits. It is close. The lightning was less than five seconds ago. The electricity skipped a beat in-between. Strike. Lightning. Pop. Complete darkness. Crackle. Electric light flickers. Boom! Thunder.

I said I was braving the weather: did I mention the half liter of local Melnik red wine keeping me composed?

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