It is the cool of the stone, the soft touch of light that gives you a dignified welcome the very moment you step into Nakhchivan. The calm breath rising from the wide boulevards slows the pace of your journey; in a low tone, the memory speaks to you.
Upon entering the Mausoleum of Mömüne Hatun, you feel the measured pride of its dodecagonal form on your shoulders. The warm color of the brick and the delicate lines of the Kufic script slowly move your look upwards to draw you into a timeless elegance.
The scale shrinks, the density intensifies next door at the Mausoleum of Yusuf ibn Kuseyir; the plainness of the stone implies a quiet attention. Shadow and light converge at the door, and lasting impressions, not photos, gather in your pocket.
In the serene setting of Han Palace, the museum reveals to you the layers where the administrative and the everyday intertwine. As you walk through the courtyard, the traces left on the window sills remind you of the human voice left behind by the passing ceremonies.
The smoky warmth of tandır kebab and the refreshing touch of şorba come together in harmony on the palate at lunchtime. For those who wish, as the evening falls, tar and kaval in a live music venue add a serene rhythm to the day’s images; weariness gives way to sweet relaxation. At the end, you enter the city market, lured by copper plates and bright-colored stalls, while tasting fruit pulp, Turkish delight, walnuts, and almonds. You learn to decipher the silent language of knots at the Carpet Museum and Open Air Museum-the smell of wool stuck on your fingers, a tenuous bond with Nakhchivan that will last for ages.
