Hippies in Rawanduz

At Rawanduz canyon for the second time, I joined a circle of young Kurdish men chanting to a drum, and one of them chanted Ah-ri-rang in its entirety! The Kurd was teaching the Korean the lyrics of the old Korean folk song! Needless to say, I was impressed by his worldliness. It's the ones isolated against their will by force or circumstances beyond their control, who reach out with the greatest zeal to cultures outside their own. Later on, I would meet several Kurds in Istanbul who are able to speak anywhere from four to ten languages as if it is their life's mission to be able to communicate with every tourist that walks into their shop. But that's much later.

Somewhat later, as the sun beat down upon my bare neck and arms, I sat at the Edge of the gorge taking close-up shots of the beautiful red wildflowers that had cropped up since the last time I'd been here. On the long way home, we caught a most majestic sunset over the rolling mountains, and I took a nice picture of it partially reflected on the bus window, as well as tons of pictures of everyday Kurds- old Kurdish men taking a walk in their turbans and preposterously baggy outfits, shepherds and goatherds, a father and son perched on a rocky ledge watching the traffic go by, young men smoking shisha by the roadside, B blowing his nose into a perfumed kleenex with a lovely butterfly print. Just kidding about that last one- that one's just ingrained into my memory for laughs. It should be illegal to make tissue that beautiful.