The View From Here

From the mud-covered shore of the Rupsa river this woman has climbed into this boat with grace and ease. She now stands steady at the bow as though it were her rightful place in life. —The water was rough not a moment ago with wind all morning and waves all day. But the air turned still as she stepped from the shore, the sky becoming clear, the water like glass.

A pair of large, black ravens have now taken position directly above her, circling in silence and on guard. It has been this way her whole life, and she had felt it always: Protected by the world around her. Nothing to fear.

On the highway into and out of the small town of Lin this man sells his fall harvest of onions and potatoes, and his home-made hot pickled peppers preserved in small plastic water bottles. Throughout the day he waits comfortably down the road under the shade trees, but whenever someone begins to approach he quickly makes his way back to his market stand, buttons his jacket and stands up straight and proper behind his goods — the perfect gentleman waiting to greet you.

The village milk run happens two or three times a week. Whoever has a truck or minibus will drive to all the neighbouring villages and pick up anyone who’s ready for a fresh bucket of milk. They will rendezvous on the mountainside where the goatherder brings his herd after a day of grazing, and when the afternoon sun begins to set, milking time begins.

Here in southern Hakkâri, goats’ milk is as precious as it is delicious. The goats graze on mountain herbs indigenous to the region, adding a sweet, rich flavour to the milk – and to the butter and yogurt and cheese – all of which are staples in every household.

This milk run gathering is of a small group of Kurdish villages close to the southern town of Çukurca (Choo-koor-ja.) The gathering is set within the Zagros mountain range at the foot of the Türk-Iraqi border. This is the heart of Kurdistan, and as the Kurdish will say: Welcome.

The number 15 minibus leaves every hour on the hour from the bottom of the hill in the village of Kiş and will take you right into the main bazaar in the city of Sheki just 8 kilometers away. If you live in Kiş, or any of the small villages scattered along these western slopes of the Caucasus Mountains, the Sheki bazaar is where you will go to shop for groceries or buy new clothes or just enjoy a fresh, hot peroşkis while visiting friends. And the first things you will learn when you arrive in Azerbaijan are just this simple: a minibus is the best way to get around, and the nearest bazaar to wherever you are is the best place to be.

For the last 25 minutes this young boy has been preparing his kite for take-off, running down the hillside that leads to this launch pad, and harnessing just the right amount of wind for this perfect moment of flight.

This is his city of Mardin, built on the southern-facing slope of a mountainside that overlooks the limestone plateau of the Syrian border, and the horizon of a world beyond him.

He flies his kite from here every day, watching it climb high as his imagination soars. On the days he craves adventure he rides its wings across the world to learn what lives beyond him. On the days he feels alone, he holds his kite straight and tight and steadies it above him like a beacon of light, a chance for the world to find him.

The city of Gaziantep is known as one of the oldest, continuously inhabited cities of the world, and it is built on rolling limestone hills just west of the Euphrates River, sixty miles north of the Syrian city of Aleppo.

For the Turks, Gaziantep is considered to be the home of the finest cuisine in all of Türkiye and, in better times, is a popular destination for food lovers throughout the country. For the Syrian people, however, Gaziantep is more simply thought of as a home away from home. Over the past ten years of war in their country, the Syrian population of Gaziantep alone has grown to 500,000 – a quarter of the entire population of the city itself – and it is estimated that there are currently 4 million Syrians living or taking refuge out here in the south-eastern part of Türkiye.

The city of Goris is nestled comfortably in the Goris River Valley of south-eastern Armenia, and the surrounding hillsides are covered in limestone spires that keep a watchful eye over the city’s 20,000 inhabitants.

Centuries ago, the spires were themselves the original city of Old Goris ―cave dwellings were carved into the hillsides and the spires stood like residential towers of the ancient city.

The spire and caves that surround the city and line the countryside neighbourhoods are still in use today, often housing small farm animals or used as simple storage huts for feed and tools. And here, in the Goris River Valley, the cemeteries of the old city have even become the cemeteries of the new city. The more things change…

If you were to travel Armenia from the very north of the country at its border with Georgia, all the way down to the southern end of its territory at the border crossing into the Zagros mountains of Iran, you would be in the town of Agarak at the bottom of the country, and this would be the very last house you would see.

This young man lives nearby and often sits perched on the top of this wall, high above the busy streets and sometimes even the whole wide world. The wall is no more than ten feet high, but the view from here is endless.

A view from the rooftop in Dhaka city. In the early evening, just before the sunset call to prayer, the skies will be overtaken with hundreds of kites, and at least as many ravens.

Kanyakumari is the southern-most tip of India and the meeting point of the Bay of Bengal, the Indian Ocean and the Arabian Sea. This is a spiritual place where hundreds of people gather every day to experience the majestic sunrise and sunset. Being here may not be an everyday part of life, but the sun will rise and set even without you.