Turkey's Mesopotamia (6) – Şanlıurfa (2)

The Quran tells of the young Abraham angering his idol-worshipping neighbors, defying them and their king in the name of the One God. The Holy Quran doesn't give many details, but the following story, which many people tell about the Sacred Pool, does not contradict the Scripture:

Abraham knew it was wrong for his people, including his parents, to worship stone and wooden idols. While he was alone, he chopped them up with an ax, except for the largest one, in whose arms he laid the ax. When the people came and asked him who did it, he said they should ask the ruined idols. When of course the idols didn't come forth with the answer, the people accused Abraham of the deed, and he turned it into a lesson, asking them why they would worship something that couldn't even defend itself, much less protect them. He advised them to change their ways and to worship only Allah, who is invisible. The young Abraham not only made his neighbors angry by denouncing their idols and chopping them up into pieces; he also angered the king, the mighty Nemrut. The king demanded that Abraham be burned, as punishment for what he, the king, saw as Abraham's heresy against the gods whom he and his subjects worshipped. Abraham bravely insisted that there was only Allah, who created everything, and he wasn't afraid, even when the people threw him into the fire with his arms and feet bound.

Home to a miracle

King Nemrut sat on his throne in his palace, which was built high on the crest of a mountain, and looked down to watch Abraham be burned alive. But as the powerful ruler watched, and the youthful Abraham surrendered himself to the protection of Allah, the flames were miraculously turned into water, the burning sticks were turned into fish, and Abraham knew only “coolness and peace.”

Today, the pool still exists; as one of the holiest places in Islam, it has been preserved and cherished for many centuries. The ruins of the palace stand high above the level of the pool and its mosque, and while the ruins are definitely ruins, the Sacred Pool is exquisite in its beauty and its surroundings. The original fish, too, still exist, according to popular tradition. The marks of the burning are clearly visible on the backs of the very large koi that mob the cool green depths of the pool. Pilgrims from many different countries come here, as they do to the Eyüp Camii in İstanbul and the shrine of the Prophet's grandson, Hussein, in Damascus. What is most distinctive about the pool, as opposed to some other holy places, is the deep sense of peace and serenity that imbues everything. Sounds are softer, the light glows without glaring, and nobody hurries. Ladies in wonderful dresses, şalwar, skirts and veils in all the colors of the rainbow feed the fish with their children, while male relatives stand quietly by, taking in the atmosphere. The magnificent mosque adjacent to the pool has a steady stream of visitors. There is a park in back of the pool and is a part of it, for the Sacred Pool adjoins another, smaller pool, made from the tears of Nemrut's daughter, who pleaded with her father for Abraham's life. The combined waters encompass fountains, rose gardens, lush lawns and tea houses. Imaginative vendors, in addition to veils and scarves and prayer beads, offer fantastic costumes for ladies to be photographed in, although I must admit that the three of us were the only ones I saw that actually did this. We were the only Westerners we saw there, except for one man wearing a California T-shirt, which got us all excited at first, but it turned out he was from Australia. (We ran into him again in Göreme, towards the end of our trip; it happens all the time in Turkey.)

After enjoying the pool and obediently acting like touristic Americans with the sequined gowns and veils, we repaired to a lovely tea garden in the park. While Bev, Lütfü and Craig drank their tea, Chantel decided to climb to the top of the mountain and see the evil king's ruined palace; I didn't want to look as old as I felt, so I courageously agreed to accompany her. The climb to Nemrut's Castle is not for the faint of heart. While there are stairs all the way, it is still a good little climb. The look back reminds me of photos I've seen of people in the Himalayas, or climbing up the Great Wall of China – the length of the path up makes the stairs look very narrow and the people like ants.

From atop the castle

But up we went, and arrive at the top we did. We couldn't get into the castle grounds because it turned out to be a museum, which shouldn't have been a surprise, but there was no note of this at the bottom, before we started this aerobic endeavor, and we had neither money nor Müze Kartı, which were in our wallets at the tea house at the bottom of the staircase. Neither of us thought it was a good idea to return for them, although Chantel may have been just taking pity on me. But no worries -- there was another few feet of path up to the very, very top of the mountain, which was crowned with two very tall and very fine ancient columns, just standing there with no adornment. One could easily imagine the incredulous and disappointed Nemrut, sitting on his throne between his columns, watching the miracle of the conversion of a place of cruel execution into a lovely garden and a vast pool with fishes. He would have had to have very good eyes because the distance is pretty far, but the view is unimpeded, so our imaginings were satisfied.

There were a lot of other interesting ruins up there, arches and what looked like entrances to large structures, but the columns kept luring us back. To the front and right of the complex was a vast flat area facing the pool and the surrounding city, with no guard rails, so the near horizon just stopped completely, with a several hundred foot drop beyond. At least one of us would not go too close to the edge, but the other one bravely did. We actually located our little party in the park below, and, unbelievably, called in big-girl voices and got their attention, so we could wave at them. It was childishly satisfying to see them, looking like ants, with little tiny ant hats in their hands, waving back to us.

The trip back down was pretty much of an anti-climax, except for my bad knee, which protested every one of the million stairs. But the climb had been worth every bit of the pain involved. The stupendous view of the city and the holy places below, the exhilaration of being so high above a great historic site and the pure fun of a good climb made us very happy to have done it. Before you die, you must go to Abraham's Sacred Pool and smell the flowers, look at the fish and go to the cruel Nemrut's castle. You'll not be sorry.