Cows block tiny passages, or lay idly in front of high speed internet shops. Signs advertise daily airport dropping and ayurvedic cures for your ailments. On the ghats, beggars, Sadhus, pilgrims, touts and tourists mingle easily. Bright red spots show the trail of betel chewers; cow patties and pigeon droppings lie right next to an impromptu samosa stand. Sadhus wait under their umbrellas for the faithful to arrive, or troll the steps posing for tourists and extracting their baksheesh.

Traveling along the eastern edge of Turkey, we're only a few miles from Armenia and Iran. Passing mustard fields of bright yellow, there are fields of sheep, ravines with Armenian watchtowers on the other side. At Tuzluca the river valley widens, but watchtowers still dot each side. In the distance we can see nuclear power plants in Erevan, Armenia.

After more than 2500 years, much of the indigenous culture remains same in temples and much of daily life outside the cities. You see it with the casual religiosity of the guides, ganesha on dashboards of rickshaws, drivers stopping in early morning to leave marigolds at a small shrine.