The last steps


I could have written this post about what we did on the Day of Rest (monday after Easter when the dead are commemorated and their graves are visited), how church was and what we did later that afternoon in Mor Hananyo (also known as Deyrulzafaran, lit. ‘The saffron monastery’) and the church of the Forty Martyrs in Mardin. But I am not going to, I hope that you, as a reader, enjoyed reading the posts and maybe even through imagination participated in our journey, be it as a Pilgrim or a Tourist. But I can understand that it also was a bit tough without much background information or photos. One of the virtues of a pilgrim is patience, so please bear with me for a couple of days and please subscribe to the posts about the journey. You’ll get a notification when the accompanying photos are published, some of them exclusively on this blog.

Now let me share some final thoughts with you from my house in The Netherlands, where it has not stopped raining since we arrived. But somehow the rain does not feel the same as it did on Turo d-Izlo when we visited Mor Augin, it just feels like rain here. But there on the top of the ridge it felt different. I tried to frame that feeling a couple of times in a phrase but I just can’t. So please dear reader, don’t be mad as this is the only thing I can say: you had to be there with us. As endearing and inspiring books and prose may be, only if one experiences something himself, he or she can truly understand the meaning and purpose of such a journey where we truly walked in the footsteps of our ancestors, who for generations walked the same roads, ate the same foods, spoke the same words, prayed the same prayers and sang the same hymns as we did last week.

SuryoyoSat is famous for its ‘final words’, here are mine to my fellow travellers, my new friends. The rain and lack of sleep did not dampen our moods and our trip ended as it started, together. The biggest difference is that we started as fellow Aramean Syriacs, still somehow strangers to eachother, but we ended all as friends. The Tourist may get to know some people at his destination, but because he (or she) is so preoccupied by reaching it and only searches for a physical proofs of his journey, his encounters with others are superficial. Only The Pilgrim can bond and forge friendships with people he meets on his way because the spiritual and transcending meaning of their journey gives them so much more than just a picture or souvenir, it enriches them as a person. He knows that the fact that his fellow travellers live in places such as Australia, Sweden, Switzerland, Palestinian Authority, The Netherlands, Belgium or Germany doesn’t mean a thing. Of course modern technologies changed how we interact with eachother and it was fun to take pictures as our journey progressed, but we know we share so much more than just the fact of being on the same road for a week. Something FaceBook cannot share with us. I pray that all went well with all of you and you reached your other homes safe and sound. Aloho d-sobe, we will meet again, be it on the Mountain of God’s servants or in any other place, may He be with us on every journey we make as He was with us the past week. This pilgrim is ready to crawl into his bed, and dream about one of his biggest experiences in his life. Shlome.

Of course I cannot leave the side note out of this post, so here is the final one:

  • I started the day of rest after only three hours of sleep. As I am writing this, I have only slept for an odd ten hours the past three days
  • After a quick survey the tlauhé of Adiyaman have been declared the best of the week, tlauhé will be again on the menu after six weeks
  • It appeared that our friend from Bethlehem Aleen is a distant relative of Adam and Christina Cello, Aleen’s great grandfather was the uncle of the Cello’s grandmother (if memory serves me right, otherwise please do correct me), another example of the things that can happen on such a journey
  • Who had a hamburger at a famous place starting with the letter M as he or she reached the final airport? I did!

Read previous: Day 5: A Tur Abdin Easter

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