Sights

Every building has its own story that is passed from one generation to the other. Its truthfulness is never checked because the stories are supposed to be narrated. The only unsolved story about this Clock Tower is the story about the 60.000 eggs that the Turkish administration collected from the population, so they could be used for its building, so it could be firmer and stronger.

Only a few decades ago if you walked from the Wood Market (Drven Pazar) to the Horse Market (At Pazar), the narrow stone paved streets would lead you through 30 markets. Each of them echoed with a special sound. The coldness of the stone clanged with the warm voices of the masters - jokers and their helpers - witty. The older and younger, advices and instructions.

The sound of the bells resounds through the air and flutters the soul. It rejoices to the new lives and mourns about those that passed by. It rejoices and cries. It echoes as a century-old vein of the city. Partly dug in the ground this church is a witness of the wit and cleverness of our masters.

Near the bridge, where people don’t just pass by each other, but stop to talk to each other, near the bridge that sometimes divides different worlds and destinies, here today and who knows for how long, the past and the present come together.

In the heart of Sirok Sokak stands quiet and still. Sparkled by the sun - rays, without a word, but proud, it lasts, arouse toward the sky, toward God. It warmth the souls, it spreads the God’s word. It comforts and heals, simply caresses. Only the faith in God, in Jesus Christ can give so much power.