Once again we take a break. It is cold, only 4 to 6 degrees, even though we are in the south. And it's raining heavily. So I find us a spot in the centre of the city. Fenced in, by the big museum.
The museum is closed, we don't know exactly why, apparently water damage. At the tourist office we learn that all the museums are closed. Water damage, earthquake damage, lack of staff. There's always something.
And what about us? No, we're not sad. The rain is pattering on our roof, I turn up the heating and make us a coffee. Gerd lies down in the south wing again and reads a little. I write and knit. That's how the days can pass.
And suddenly night falls. That was a wonderful day on the sofa in our little house. We talk about it briefly and realise how great it is to have our own home with us. We no longer have to look for cosy corners in cafés or hotel rooms like we used to. We put on our slippers, snuggle up, make a pot of Swiss mountain tea and life is good to us.
The next day, we want to get moving and stroll through the city. Balıklıgöl (Abraham's Pond) is our destination. This sacred pond is known for its large sacred carp and is closely linked to the story of the prophet Abraham. The car park attendant shakes his head, no, we can't go there. It's far too far! So we take the bus, don't have to pay (we assume that the bus driver doesn't speak English and can't discuss the price with us) and get off at the next stop! A 2 minute bus journey. And that's not reasonable? Okay, we've learnt something again.
We leave Urfa Kalesi, the citadel, an impressive fortress perched on a hill above the city and offering a fantastic view of the surrounding area, and the Halil-Ür Rahman Mosque to the left. We feel like strolling, shopping and then actually going back to our cosy little house.
At the Urfa Bazaar, the traditional market where we find local handicrafts, spices, textiles and much more, the baker, whom I secretly photograph (not secretly at all, as he has noticed), gives me a warm loaf of bread from the oven. We also manage to get past the incredibly bright pink-coloured candy floss. It doesn't look healthy.
In a small café, we snack on the typical sweet (whose name we have of course forgotten again) from Urfa, as they call Şanlıurfa here, and talk to the extremely friendly Syrian waiter about his wishes for the future. And we realise that it really sucks if you "only" have a Syrian passport like him. And yet we exchange pleasantries and enjoy each other's company.
Merci for "travelling with us
We are thinking about taking another break from travelling in the summer and visiting our families in Germany and Switzerland. One of the ideas is to organise a Lecture about our long journey to the Persian Gulf to prepare. If you would like to, what would interest you the most? We will also tell stories here that don't find a place here on the blog. We're thinking of the Bern and Berlin area - simply because we have family there. But other places are also conceivable. Feel free to write to us.
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