Day Three in Dagestan: Something Familiar in Nogai Yurt
- Ahmet Kucukasci
- 2 days ago
- 3 min read
After recovering from the previous day's training, Arsen and I left Makhachkala around 9 a.m. and headed towards Terekli-Mekteb. It was roughly a three-hour drive. Technically, Sunday was supposed to be a rest day. I could have stayed in bed, recovered and prepared for the week ahead. Instead, I chose six hours on the road. It turned out to be the right decision. We stopped at a few beautiful places along the way, took photos and kept driving north towards the Nogai region.
When we finally reached Terekli-Mekteb, our original plan was simple: find a good restaurant and eat. It was closed.
That small inconvenience completely changed the day. Arsen walked into a shop where he knew some people. A little later, he called me inside. They were Nogais.
And almost immediately, I felt strangely comfortable. I didn't feel like someone who had just arrived after driving three hours into an unfamiliar part of Dagestan. There was no dramatic moment. Nothing extraordinary happened. It was simply a feeling. Something here felt familiar.
The Nogai Yurt
They took me to an area with a traditional Nogai yurt. I sat inside for a while and tried to imagine what life around these structures must once have looked like. Then we went outside and shot arrows. I hadn't expected archery to become one of the things I would remember most from the day. It requires patience. Breathing. Posture. Focus.
You draw the bow, control your breathing, aim and release. The archery instructer came, he was also boxing coach. He was very friendly and showed us how to shoot. As I catch the rhythm, I was telling him that it is in my blood! :)
For those few seconds, everything becomes quiet. I know that feeling from other places. Running gives it to me through rhythm. Swimming gives it to me through repetition. Fighting sometimes gives it to me through intensity. Archery produced the same silence through stillness.
And somewhere underneath that calm was another feeling that was harder to explain. As if the blood recognised something before the mind could
explain it.
Maybe that's romanticising it. Maybe not. Either way, I felt good there.
Around the Table
The guy showing us around later invited us into his home. That changed the experience completely. Instead of eating at the restaurant we had originally planned, I was sitting on the floor in a Nogai home, sharing local food around a traditional table with people I had met only hours earlier. That became an unexpectedly emotional moment for me. Hospitality has a different meaning when you're far from home. There was nothing complicated about the scene. Food. Conversation. People sitting together.
And for a completely irrational moment, I thought:
I could live here.
Wake up early.
Train.
Eat.
Sleep.
Repeat.
No complicated schedule.
No unnecessary noise.
Honestly, it sounded pretty good.
Terekli-Mekteb
Later our new friend continued showing us around and explained the story behind the name Terekli-Mekteb. I learned about the connection between the wooded surroundings and the schools established here, which eventually gave the settlement its name. These are small details, but they're the details I enjoy when travelling. A place becomes more than a point on a map once somebody who lives there starts explaining what it means.
There was also something considerably less historical following me everywhere in Dagestan:
Coffee. Coffee is everywhere here. And I seem to be drinking an unreasonable number of Americanos.
Training.
Coffee.
Walking.
Coffee.
Three-hour road trip.
Another Coffee.
No complaints.
Taking Something Home
Before leaving, we stopped somewhere selling local Nogai products. There wasn't a huge selection, but I bought whatever caught my attention. I like buying small things from places I visit. Not necessarily expensive things. Just objects that will eventually remind me of a particular day. But the thing I really took from Terekli-Mekteb couldn't be bought. It was that feeling of familiarity.
One afternoon obviously doesn't make me an expert on Nogai culture. That wasn't the point. I went because I was curious. I left feeling somehow connected to the place.
By the time we started the three-hour drive back, both of us were exhausted.
When we finally reached home, I don't even remember falling asleep. My rest day had involved six hours of driving, walking around a village, meeting strangers, shooting arrows and eating in someone's home. Not much physical recovery there. But mentally?
Maybe that was exactly the recovery I needed. Sometimes resting means doing nothing.
And sometimes it means going somewhere you've never been before.
