With every morning entrance to Ordubad, you feel the cool walls of the stone mansions; the scents rising from the gardens whisper the way. You turn toward Aras, and the wind lifts your face, showing the curves of the old neighborhoods one after another. You warm up to the city with your brisk steps and let your pulse follow the rhythm of the streets.
While you take shelter from the sun under the shade of the domes at Geysariyye Monument/Museum, you hear the sounds of the bazaar. It is silk, copper, and ceramics that replace one another on the stalls; display cases reveal the memory of their craftsmanship. Each piece would narrate to you the patience of the craftsmen and the stories of their journey.
At the Friday Mosque, the shadow of the brick minaret falls in the courtyard, and your footsteps slacken. The quiet of the woodwork makes you look toward the altar. On the door knockers and stone inscriptions, you can read the order described in the old endowments.
As you walk down to Buzxana, the cool breath of the underground touches your face. In this arrangement against summer heat, conical tiers and niches are fitted together. You will see the harmony of the stone and the soil, although it is dimly lit.
You sit down for lunch at a home-cooked restaurant, and in comes a trio of dolmas: lettuce, peppers, and eggplant all share the aroma of the same pot with rice and spices. Fresh herbs and tandoori bread complete the dishes.
On an afternoon stroll, the historic streets unfold with doorways, waterways and shaded courtyards. During fruit and sherbet tastings, mulberries, apricots, and plums change seasons on your tongue. The evening closes with a break to catch a view of the city from above.
