Embracing Nature’s Challenges Rain or Shine

A Walk in the Rain

Would you walk on muddy mountain paths even if rain-loaded dark clouds hovered above, and a sharp wind rushed through you, releasing cold raindrops into your clothes? For the members of GOLDOSK, a nature sports and hobby club, the answer is a resounding yes. Last Sunday, despite the challenging weather, a group of nature enthusiasts gathered to walk through the mountains and brooks with smiles on their faces.

Soaked to the Skin, Yet Smiling

Sticky mud shackles their progress, and the vision is obscured by the downpour. Soaked to the skin and chilled to the marrow, the group, comprising kids, men, women, and seniors, moves under dark clouds, through rain and a sharp wind. They walk towards Barla, undeterred by the elements, sharing the love of nature in all seasons. The mountains they pass give way, sometimes leading the way.

Finding Beauty in the Chaos

Raindrops gather on the ground, forming tiny murky brooks, creating a symphony of plashing sounds. Yellow and white crocuses smile at them amidst the challenging conditions. Despite the mud, cold, and rain, the group looks at each other and smiles, finding beauty in the chaos. They are not deterred by the mess; instead, they consider the suffering towards the moment of purification from stress and inner dirt Guided Tours Turkey.

Sacred Moments of Learning

“Why endure this misery when you could rest in your cozy houses?” some might ask. Yet, for GOLDOSK, the suffering is sacred, leading to moments of learning and purification. Hakan Ayan, one of GOLDOSK’s founders, explains, “We met with nature, made peace with it. People started their weeks free of trouble or stress.” The experience of being in nature together breaks down invisible walls, bringing people together in ways they wouldn’t have expected.

From Two Friends to an Association

GOLDOSK’s journey began with two friends discussing how to enjoy their weekends. Small walking activities grew, and from five members, they became ten, then a hundred. Today, GOLDOSK is a thriving association where people from all walks of life come together. Besides nature trips, the organization has formed groups focused on music, skiing, painting, and photography, embracing diverse interests within the community.

A Village Reduced to Ashes and Ashen Dreams

The Withered Roses of Klissura

This article unveils the heartbreaking saga of Klissura, a once-flourishing village that now stands as a stark testament to the ruthlessness of destruction. Tassun Bey’s merciless onslaught left behind not just ashes but shattered lives and extinguished dreams. The tragic fate of Klissura exposes the depth of the atrocities inflicted upon its innocent inhabitants.

The Desolation of a Once-Proud Village

Klissura, adorned with 700 homes and a thriving community, lay in ruins after Tassun Bey’s onslaught. Not a single house stood untouched, leaving the village in a state of desolation. The Mudir’s grim assessment revealed that a mere fifty families could contemplate the daunting task of rebuilding, with most lacking the means to even start anew.

Crippled Lives and Uncertain Futures

The aftermath of Klissura’s destruction painted a grim picture of lives left in shambles. Families, once engaged in the cultivation of roses and the artistry of manufacturing attar of roses, now found themselves bereft of homes and livelihoods. The uncertainty of the impending winter loomed large, casting shadows on the villagers’ ability to rebuild their lives Tour Bulgaria.

An Orchestrated Plunder

Tassun Bey’s marauding forces orchestrated a meticulously planned pillaging of Klissura. The village’s 130 to 150 small manufacturing units, boasting 500 copper retorts for distilling rose leaves, represented a substantial capital of £5,000. However, the invaders spared nothing, looting not just furniture and cattle but even dismantling the very roofs for tiles. In the aftermath, they combed through the ashes, scavenging for iron and nails with a chilling efficiency.

Lives Reduced to Ashes

Beyond the tangible losses, the true tragedy lies in the shattered lives of Klissura’s residents. The anguish of families, robbed of their homes, possessions, and livelihoods, resonates as a haunting echo of the once-vibrant village. The pillars of the community lay broken, and the future for the survivors remains clouded with uncertainty.

A Plea for Justice and Restoration

Klissura’s agony calls for a resounding plea for justice and restoration. The international community must bear witness to the devastation inflicted upon this village and others like it. Only through collective efforts to bring the perpetrators to justice and aid the survivors in rebuilding their lives can the echoes of Klissura’s tragedy be transformed into a resilient call for hope and renewal.

The Troubled Landscape

Avrat-Alan and the Brigands’ Lament

The Brigands’ Bane A Suffering Class in the Shadows

As we continued our journey towards Avrat-Alan, the shadows of the Balkan Mountains embraced us, revealing a narrative of hardship that extended beyond the visible struggles of the villagers. These mountainous regions, once a haven for brigands, now echoed with their discontent. The brigands, predominantly Turks, found themselves on the brink of indigence due to the suspension of all traffic and commerce in the aftermath of the war.

These bandits, while often perceived as criminals, were now painted in a different light—one of desperation. Deprived of their customary means of subsistence, the harsh reality of their circumstances painted a pitiable picture. The cessation of travel and trade had not only silenced the roads but also left the brigands grappling with destitution. As we navigated the challenging terrain, it became apparent that the economic fallout had reached even those on the fringes of society, urging a nuanced consideration of the multifaceted impacts of conflict.

Echoes of Insurrection in a Mountain Hollow

As the sun dipped towards the horizon, we stood at the mountain’s crest, gazing upon Avrat-Alan nestled in a deep, narrow valley below. This village, one of the few south of the Balkans where an attempt at insurrection had occurred, bore the weight of a complex history. While it lacked the fortifications seen in some other places, Avrat-Alan held a distinction as the principal offender, marked by acts that strained the moral fabric of the insurrection.

The most egregious offense lay in the killing of forty Mohammedan gipsies by the insurgent youth. These gipsies, suspected of clandestine arming and potential allegiance to the Bashi-Bazouks, met a tragic fate. The suspicions, though unconfirmed Bulgaria Holidays, led to a grave decision, highlighting the intensity and paranoia that had gripped the region during the insurrection. However, a critical distinction emerged—the insurgents, despite their transgressions, refrained from harming women and children. This singular fact underscored a profound difference in conduct between the Bulgarian rebels and their Turkish counterparts.

The legacy of Avrat-Alan stood as a stark reminder of the moral complexities that emerged in the crucible of insurrection. It beckoned forth a call for reflection on the harsh choices made under the pressures of war, illuminating the contrasting values upheld by the opposing factions and, by extension, the deep-seated animosities embedded in the historical tapestry of the region.

A Russian a Bulgarian a Servian

A Russian, a Bulgarian, a Servian, a Montenegrin, and a Tchek may meet and talk, each in his own language, and all understand each other. You might as well expect the English north of the Thames not to sympathise with those south of it, in case the latter were under the domination of the Turks, as to try to prevent these Sclavonic races from helping . each other, while groaning under a foreign despotism.

Batak is situated about thirty miles south of Tatar Bazardjik as the crow flies, high up in the spur of the Balkans that here sweeps around to the south from the main range. The road was only a steep mountain path that in places might have tried the agility of a goat. There was a better one, as we learned upon our return, but, with that perversity which distinguishes the Oriental mind, our guide took this one instead. We formed a curious but a somewhat lugubrious procession as we wound up the steep mountain side Guided Istanbul Tours.

Knives and pistols

First there were our two zaptiehs in their picturesque costumes, bristling with knives and pistols, our guide likewise armed to the teeth, then the five persons who composed our party, mounted on mules and horses decked out with nondescript saddles and trappings, followed by a procession of fifty or sixty women and children who had resolved to accompany us to Batak. Many of the women carried a small child, and a heavy burthen besides, comprising the provisions, clothing, cooking utensils, or harvesting implements, they had begged or borrowed in Pestera. Even children—little girls of nine and ten years—were trudging wearily up the steep mountain side under burthens too heavy for them ; and they would be five or six hours in reaching their destination.

After three hours’ climbing by paths so steep that fte were obliged to dismount and walk half the time without then seeming quite safe from rolling down into some abyss, mounting higher and higher until we seemed to have got among the clouds, we at last emerged from a thick wood into a delightful little valley that spread out a rich carpet of verdure before our eyes.

A little stream came murmuring down through it, upon which there was built a miniature saw-mill It appears that the people in Batak did a considerable trade in timber, which they worked up from the forests on the surrounding mountains, for we afterwards observed a great number of these little mills, and were even told there were over two hundred in and about the village.

Violated in the presence of her children

Mothers were outraged in the presence of their daughters ; young girls in the presence of their mothers, of their sisters and brothers. One woman told us, wringing her hands and crying, that she and her daughter, a girl of fifteen, had been violated in the same room, another that she was violated in the presence of her children.

A girl of eighteen avowed, shuddering and bowing her facp in her hands, that she had been outraged by ten soldiers. A woman, who came to us on crutches with a bullet still in her ankle, said she had been violated by three soldiers while lying wounded on the ground groaning in agony. Young, delicate, fragile little creatures, ten and twelve years old, were treated in the same brutal manner Turkey Sightseeing.

A woman told us that her daughter, a tender, delicate little thing of twelve, had been seized and outraged by a Bashi-Bazouk, although she had offered all the money she had in the world—although she offered herself—if he would spare the child. Another told us of a poor little thing of ten violated in her presence, with a number of other girls. Still another told us how a dozen young girls, twelve or fifteen years old, had taken refuge in her house, hoping to escape detection; how they had been discovered ; how two of them had been outraged, and killed, because they had resisted, and how the others then submitted to their fate, white, shivering, their teeth chattering with fright.

And yet Sir Henry Elliot and Mr. Disraeli will keep prating to us about exaggeration, forsooth ! The crimes that were committed here are beyond the reach of exaggeration. There were stories related to us that are maddening in their atrocity, that cause the heart to swell in a burst of impotent rage that can only find vent in pitying, useless tears.