There are places in the world where geography writes poetry. Where land and water embrace not in conflict, but in deep conversation. Trabzon, seated along the emerald edge of the Black Sea in northeastern Türkiye, is such a place. It is not simply a city—it is a threshold. Between past and present. Between nature and spirit. Between silence and song.
To know Trabzon is to step into a world shaped by mist and myth, by stone and sea, by empires that came and went, and a people who quietly remained.
Here, everything has a voice—if you’re willing to listen.
A Landscape of Drama and Devotion
Trabzon rises sharply from the sea into forested cliffs and highland plateaus. The air is thick with the scent of pine, salt, and rain. The Pontic Mountains stretch behind the city like watchful guardians, cloaked in cloud, whispering stories of resilience and return.
The land is not easy here, but it is honest. And so are the people. They are strong not from dominance, but from endurance—farming steep hillsides, fishing stormy waters, living with the patience of those who understand that nature is not to be conquered, but respected.
A City of Empire and Echoes
Trabzon was once the seat of a forgotten empire—the Empire of Trebizond—born in 1204 from the ashes of Byzantium. For over 250 years, this coastal stronghold was ruled not by distant kings, but by local hands who built a world of art, culture, and diplomacy along one of history’s great crossroads.
Wander the winding lanes of Ortahisar, the old town, and you’ll find Byzantine walls, Ottoman fountains, and Greek monasteries coexisting like verses of the same poem. The city doesn’t erase its layers—it wears them openly, like rings of a tree.
The Hagia Sophia of Trabzon, a 13th-century Byzantine church turned mosque, still stands proudly on a hill above the sea, its frescoes and columns echoing centuries of devotion and change. It is not just a structure—it is a mirror of the city’s soul: complex, beautiful, enduring.
Sümela: A Monastery in the Mist
Forty kilometers inland, high on the cliffs of the Altındere Valley, lies one of Türkiye’s most breathtaking sites: the Sümela Monastery. Built into the rock face like a secret prayer, it clings to the mountain with improbable grace.
Founded in the 4th century, Sümela has been a place of faith, refuge, and silence for generations. When you visit, the air is cooler, the light filtered through ancient trees, and every footstep echoes as if time itself is listening.
Sümela is not just a monastery. It is a reminder: there are places where the human spirit reaches upward, not for power—but for peace.
The Music of the Mountains, the Dance of the Heart
Trabzon’s soul is carried in its music—sharp and sweet like mountain air. The kemençe, a three-stringed bowed instrument, sings with urgency and emotion, its melodies threading through every village wedding, every farewell, every storm.
The Horon dance, performed in tight circles, is quick-footed and communal—men and women alike moving as one, shoulders locked, feet pounding in rhythm. It is not performance. It is memory in motion. An expression of survival, joy, and unity.
In Trabzon, tradition is not a museum piece. It is alive—laughing, weeping, and always moving forward.
Tea Gardens and Rain-Blessed Fields
If the mountains give Trabzon its strength, tea gives it its warmth. This region is the heart of Türkiye’s tea production. Lush, terraced plantations cover the hills like a green prayer rug, nurtured by heavy rainfall and loving hands.
A glass of Rize-style black tea, strong and served in a tulip-shaped glass, is more than a beverage—it’s an invitation to pause, to connect, to breathe. In homes and tea gardens alike, conversation flows as steadily as the kettle, and every guest is treated like kin.
In Trabzon, hospitality isn’t offered—it’s woven into the fabric of life.
Let the World Learn from Trabzon
Let us learn from Trabzon that beauty does not need to be tamed. That wildness can be sacred. That mist-covered mountains and restless seas can be companions, not obstacles.
Let us remember that culture is not preserved through silence—but through song, dance, and the daily courage to carry forward what matters.
Let us believe that empires may fall, but kindness, craft, and community—these endure.
Let us begin again—with Trabzon.
Where cliffs cradle monasteries,
Where tea warms hands and hearts,
Where people dance in circles so tight that no one is left behind.
Because the most beautiful world isn’t built by those who shout.
It is tended by those who listen.
Who sing to the land.
Who plant on steep hills with hope.
Who pray, not for more—but for enough.
Trabzon does not ask to be admired.
It asks to be understood.
And once you do—you never forget.