I'm a firm believer in the theory that all motorised modes of transport are the devil's invention. That's why I'm pretty radical about the way I want to do this trip. No cars, no trains, no buses, no planes. I could pat myself on the back for treading lightly, but the main thing is that traveling just seems more real when you set yourself in motion.
When it comes to side trips these hard and fast rules somehow don't apply. They're not part of the actual journey anyway
—that's what makes them side trips. No pangs of guilt then, when I decided to take a bus south and make a little tour of the Euphrates and Tigris basin. In Diyarbakır, a city that wears its Kurdish identity on its sleeve, I joined the shopping frenzy one day before Kurban Bayramı, the Festival of the Sacrifice. In the bluff-top town of Mardin I watched the sun go down behind the endless Mesopotamian plain. In the backstreets of Midyat little punks pelted me with stones (no Major League material there). And in Hasankeyf I was told I was one of the last tourists to visit the village, as the entire place will be washed away as soon as the construction of a nearby dam is completed. Excellent little excursion, but after nine days I was dying to get back to my yoke and plough again.
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| Stocking up on sweets for Kurban Bayramı |
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| Mardin: citrus-press domes, great views of Syria |
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| Kurdish man in traditional dress |
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| Hasankeyf boy skipping stones on the Tigris |
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| Mardin post office: ornate facades abound in this region |
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| Baklava and kadayıf: don't eat more than a pound or you'll live to regret it |
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