Coming into Doğubeyazıt from Van is breathtaking if you don’t know what to expect.
As we were rushing through the crumbled road, I kept searching through the window, trying to identify Mount Ararat without luck.
Still not sure of what I was looking for, my mouth dropped to the ground as we passed the last group of mountains before reaching the edge of the valley that would take us to our destination.
With nothing else blocking the view, there was no doubt that the humongous mountain across the basin was the biblical Mount Ararat—even from almost 100km away, its peak still above my eye level.
The towns on its skirts almost invisible, the vertiginous road snaking its way into them. I’m not usually afraid of heights, but seeing this giant get bigger and bigger as we got closer to it gave me a feeling of queasiness.
I don’t think I could ever get used to a view like this.