When facing a severe test, we all hope and pray that we can rise to the occasion. Be brave enough to meet adversity head on. Have enough courage to persevere. Never give up.
To come so close and fail to reach a goal, can be one of the hardest things to come to terms with. When your mind, or heart, is set on a certain something, to be thwarted at the very last instant, can be a bitter pill to swallow.
Türkiye’s EU membership hopes have been hanging in suspended animation for a quarter of a century. The likelihood of achieving that goal is most certain to be another twenty-five year wait. In parts, the infrastructure is new and modern; in others old and dilapidated. Differences appear between rural and urban. More so than would be seen in ‘the west’. Culture, tradition, religion, lifestyle, expectations – all influence and govern a molasses movement towards western modernity.
Away from the cities, the countryside ‘holders’ still hold on to the old ways. Shepherds and farm labourers scatter the countryside like blown dandelion seeds. Unable to tell what time it is.
This morning we leave Damlacik’s herdsmen and head up Mount Nemrut. A fifteen kilometre climb to its summit at 7,000 ft. For vehicles and feet, the route is paved. It needs to be. Some of the inclines are uncomfortably steep. (We were warned by the site’s owner, who offered to drive us there.) At one point, with engine revving in first gear, like a demented hyena, Beastie stutters to a halt on a one-in-three section, just short of a hairpin bend. With foot and handbrake unable to counter the gravitational pull, he unnerves two cheeses. Slithers slowly back down, like a balloon letting go of air. Fortunately there’s no vehicle behind. Inside his cab, silence, relief and determination. We’ve come too far to give up now. A second and longer runup is called for. It works. Beastie gets a second wind. However, the remaining uphill 5k in second gear takes its toll. By the time Beastie comes to rest just below the summit, he’s about to gasp his last. His engine is fuming. The smell, that hot, oily precursor to smoke.
Although parking is free, we need to buy tickets. The parking attendant asks the proverbial “Where you from”. Then proceeds to imitate drinking from an imaginary carafe. Closed fist, extended thumb, head tilted backward. The hidden question being “Have you any alcohol on board?” – silly question!! A bottle of red is gratefully accepted.
Beastie’s done his bit. Now it’s our turn for a work out. The seated Englishman, just visible at the top of this first set of steps, is taking a breather. From where he’s sitting, he can see he’s only half way to heaven.
Its five giant headless statues stare blindly out across the magnificent void
