August 2017, The Eastern Anatolia Region

After hours of driving towards the Armenian border, the landscape was still the same: wide plains occupied with agriculture. There was hay everywhere: either being cut, collected by tractors or lying around. People were busy with harvesting and the tractors were driving back and forth in the fields. It looked like Pol Pot’s dream — turning everybody into a peasant.

Right by the Armenian border, there are the ruins of Ani. This ancient Armenian capital used to be once a lively rich town on the Silk Road. In 1236, the city was captured and destroyed by the Mongols. Half a century later an earthquake teared down what was left by the invaders. A former metropolis was reduced to a village and gradually abandoned.

Frankly speaking, I thought that I would find another tourist packed Angkor Wat here, but it wasn’t so. Seldom visitors roamed in the huge field of stones under the merciless burning skies. Except for stones that once used to be somebody´s home, there were only some ruins of churches left. Beneath Ani, a whitewater river whirred through the empty torrid steppes. No doubt the place was worth the day-long ride.