Travel journal

A Morning Out of the City: Umbrellas, Candles and Old Stone

The other half of that day: the walled streets in the morning, the lane under the umbrellas, and the stone and the candles in between.

23 July 2021

A covered stone lane running away between buildings with their shutters down, coloured umbrellas hanging overhead, motorcycles parked along the paving and light falling through in stripes.

One morning of that visit was spent inside the old walls. A gate, a lane with a whole ceiling of umbrellas over it, and a lot of stone. Here it is in the order it happened.

Started at the gate. Big stone blocks, a tower over the arch, and the day still ahead of me.

A selfie of a woman in a grey top and dark glasses in front of the stone gate of an old walled city in bright sun, the gate's crenellated top and pointed arch behind her, a blue information sign on the wall to her right with a smaller sign and a toilet sign below it, a ticket office sign at the corner of the building, and other visitors on the paved plaza.

Inside a few minutes later, and the whole lane has a roof of umbrellas.

A selfie of a woman in a grey top with glasses pushed up on her head, standing in a stone lane with coloured umbrellas hanging overhead and motorcycles parked along the side.

Every colour going, strung from wall to wall above the shops.

A narrow stone lane seen from below with rows of coloured umbrellas hung high between the buildings, awnings and wires crossing overhead and a planter at the side.

Then a doorway worth stopping for. Carved stone, lettering cut along the top, and an iron gate standing open.

A stone doorway with lettering carved along the top and a sign panel above it, an open iron gate below and a wall of patterned stone around it.

Round the next corner the tower comes up over the roofs, flag up, with its paired arches under it.

A square stone tower with a flag flying above it standing beside a pale stone front with paired arched windows, under a blue sky with white cloud.

Inside after that, where it goes quiet. Gold mosaic over the altar and a bank of candles in front of it.

A small stone chapel with a gold mosaic above the altar, tall candlesticks along it, a white cloth over the front and patterned tiles on the floor.

The candles themselves, close up. Dozens of them lit at once, stood in a bowl of sand.

A round metal stand full of lit candles set in sand, the flames crowded together and wax running down the metal side.

And the door into the next room, hung all over with lamps and small painted plaques.

An ornate stone entrance with a cluster of hanging metal lamps and small painted plaques over the arch, columns on either side and a dark doorway below.

Low light in there. Silver frames, painted panels, and candles burning in front of them.

A dim chapel interior with gold-framed painted panels along the wall, silver candle stands, lamps lit in front of a red and gold hanging and stone underfoot.

An older doorway again, sealed up now, with a cloth laid across the floor in front of it.

A tall stone arch filled in with rough blocks of stone, an old wooden door at one side and a folded cloth lying on the ground below.

Out the back and straight through the rock. A passage, cool and empty.

A rough passage cut through solid rock running away to a dark end, its walls pale and pitted and its floor uneven.

Then a ceiling worth standing under. Painted all over, with a big brass lamp hanging below it.

An arched ceiling painted with figures around a circle of windows, seen from below with a large brass chandelier hanging on a chain in front of it.

The courtyard at the end of it, old columns on every side. And me, because that is a courtyard worth standing in.

A woman in a grey top and light trousers standing against a wall of old stone blocks, smiling, with a worn stone column at the side and stone paving underfoot.

One last thing on the way out: the street's own sign set into the wall, three languages on one tile.

A tiled street sign set into an old stone wall with its lettering in three scripts, a patterned tile border around the writing and a metal door frame at the left.

Walled streets, a lane of umbrellas, candles and old stone, and then back into the city for the afternoon.

Every photograph in this one is mine, from that morning. The city pages live under Cities.

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