Trabzon, Turkey, Monday May 12th

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Hasan took us by Dolmush into the centre to catch a bus to the Sumela Monastery. It had been another destination whose photo had drawn us to Turkey. We were expecting the Greek Orthodox Monastery of the Virgin Mary to be magnificent, but we had no idea of how lovely its setting would be. Almost as soon as we left the built up areas of Trazon the mountains looked as if a fluffy green rug had been tossed over them. Soon trees and shrubs dominated and finally we were driving through an evergreen forest with water gushing in waterfalls and over rocks down to, and along, the river. We could see purple and yellow rhododendrons flowering amongst the many shades of green and the dappled patches of light.
It was icy cold, and a soft drizzle turned to hail as we climbed the walking track, ascending about 300 metres. It was a delightful walk despite all that – with natural plantings far surpassing anything a gardener could achieve. It was not until the last part that we were close enough to see the monastery, seeming to cling to the very edge of the rock face of Karadag mountain. Our early clear view was taken over by swirling mists as we walked up into the clouds. Arriving at the ticket office, we were forced to seek shelter while a thunder storm passed.
The name of the monastery has the word ‘melas’ in it, which means black, and refers to the dark colour of Mary in the icon. It seems amazing that light coloured skin would be expected in a Middle Eastern person so not remarkable that Mary is shown with brown skin. The monastery was founded by two priests in the fourth century when it would have been but a germ of the complex that it was to become. It was repaired and expanded in the sixth century and developed more in the 13th century. The Ottoman Sultans and the Turks respected the monastery and in the 18th century, more renovations and fresco painting occurred. Finally it developed even more with accommodation for travellers until 1916–18 when the Russians invaded and took it over. It has continued to operate as a monastery under the Turkish Republic.
Osman, who we met in Doğubeyazıt, has stayed at the monastery and asked us to remember him to the Italian priest he met. All the doors to the current monastery building were closed and the priest was very sensibly not out and about in the cold, so we were not able to pass on Osman’s greetings. He had said that the monastery has five star accommodation and costs nothing, only a donation to the church. We were not looking to stay there but Osman said that his name would act as a reference for us.

Inside the monastery walls we descended a staircase passing small rooms and libraries. Their outside walls were in line with the cliff face and although the view was breathtaking and would make you think of the wonders of creation, it made me feel sick to look out. Heights have never been my thing. There were a few terraces and an open courtyard with a large overhang of rock protecting a chapel with frescoes on its external walls. The ground around it was dry, proving that the protection defied storms.
The chapel was hewn out of the rock but had a built part projecting into the courtyard. Every surface was covered with colourful icons, which had been added to and replaced many times. It looked as though a pedantic madman with a pick had gouged out parts of the frescoes in a very exact way and at first we thought that it was defacing, as had happened in other chapels when Islam took over. The guard told me that it was the way that the restorers over the ages had prepared the walls for a new layer of fresco plaster to be applied, to ensure that it stuck. In some parts we could see three layers of frescoes and plaster. The information said that the best frescoes were the oldest ones but that they had been destroyed by later renovations.
Some professional photographers, with enormous equipment, and some other well dressed people who were acting as guides, looked like they were preparing for a feature article on the monastery, or for official tourist materials. Perhaps they included us in some shots – the only tourists present at that stage. I included them in mine.
Supplies for the monastery come up on a long flying fox wire that leads down to the river. Water used to be supplied by a now ruined aqueduct but was flowing freely through pipes when we visited, so is still obviously available somehow.
We hurried back along the track, which was now wet and slippery but quite passable. There was time for a picnic lunch and a walk up the road where we were able to get a good view of the monastery from down below. On the way back in the dolmush, a lady gave me and lots of others a branch of purple rhododendron, so we were a little bit like Dame Edna fans with a Turkish touch.
We spent some time in the Internet café and then set off to meet Hasan. He came into town and we all returned home. Hüseyin was very late home from work and by the time he arrived we had had another delicious meal with Hasan. They helped us to work out our travel plans and admired the day’s photos, and then it was bedtime.
Hüseyin and Hasan are a pleasure to be with. They are always cheerful and happy, which makes for a very positive environment. They had been charming, helpful and very welcoming hosts and we do hope that we will meet again.