Deep in the mountains southwest of Trabzon, over a high cliff, perches Sumela Monastery, a Christian sanctuary founded in the 4th century. It has stood there through the Byzantine period, the Seljuk period, the Ottoman period and the Turkish Republic period, occasionally vandalized but usually under protection, in disrepair but never ruined. The complex was renovated in the 20th century: it was disappointing to see an obvious difference in style between the old structure and the replacement. To the ancient Christians, it was probably their religious fervor that gave them the impetus to create a monastery in this secluded place. To me, the frescoes on the walls reflect not only their devotion to God, but a common human desire to lead a life without tumult. Or else how could one explain so many Chinese poems and paintings on the theme of solitude and tranquility in the mountains? Here in the deep mountains near Trabzon, I was experience the same feelings as the famous poets in ancient China.
Boarding a minibus marked Ayasophia (Haghia Sophia), we were taken to a small hill just outside Trabzon. This Haghia Sophia, having the same name as the more famous church in Istanbul, was built in 13th century by the ruler of a Greek kingdom already surrounded by the encroaching Seljuk Turks. Although it is a Byzantine-style Christian church, some of the stone work in the church has interlocking geometric patterns in the Islamic Seljuk art style. Cross-cultural borrowing happened in this case in spite of religious and political hostilities between the Muslim Turks and the Christian Greeks at the time. In fact, this kind of borrowing is also noticeable in the opposite direction: the adoption of the Byzantine dome structure, the best example of which is the Haghia Sophia in Istanbul, in Ottoman mosques. The most illustrative example of this type of borrowing is the Blue Mosque which was built shortly after the Ottomans entered Istanbul and which has stood next to the Church of Haghia Sophia (Holy Wisdom) to serve as a reminder that wisdom of one people can and should be shared by another.
With Black Sea to the north generating moisture and mountains to the south blocking it, the Trabzon area has the highest annual rainfall in Turkey. It is therefore surrounded by lush green vegetation on all sides except the north. Besides dense forests, much of the vegetation is tea plantation.
In a small village about 100 km east of Trabzon and 50 km from the coast, a man in his 40’s struck a conversation with us when we were invited to have our photo taken with a group of local residents who were hanging around in a roadside cafe. He works for the state-run tea company Caykor (pronounced chai-cor , meaning “Chai Corp” as tea is called “chai” in Turkey), and offered to take us to tour a nearby factory that processes organic black tea. Afterwards, he offered to take us to another plant that processes green tea! Our decline of this invitation, however politely made, seemed to have hurt the feelings of this over-zealous host.
Of course, we prefer over-zealous hosts to arrogant or hostile locals. At a wedding party which we ran into in a town near a beautiful lake, we met neither kind, which is what we liked the most. Men and women formed lines to do a folkdance to the loud blast of folk music. When a man noticed our existence, he offered some sweets to us with just a nod and a smile. A pretty little girl on her dad’s shoulders kept one peeking at us, but the dad said and did nothing.
When the neighboring minaret broadcast the muezzin’s call for prayers just before dusk, it competed with the dance music, and the two sound systems were literally performing a duet. Nobody from the wedding party stopped dancing after the muezzin’s call. When we walked over to the mosque, we saw a few people perform ablution or remove their shoes at the door, preparing to pray inside the mosque. At this point, my mind switched back to the cute little girl at the wedding party. Which sound system would she choose to listen to when she grows up? It will have a great deal to do with how her father chooses to vote in the next decade, I said to myself. As I was casting my last glance at this small town whose name I can’t even spell, I sincerely wished that the little girl would not have to choose between dance and prayer but would be free to do both.
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