Days 4-5: Goreme

We woke up on the train to farms and got off at Ankara, Turkey’s capital city (who knew?). It was not the most exciting of places; it probably has the same inferiority complex as Canberra. We were picked up at the station and drove until after 9.30, by which time we were well out of Ankara and it seemed the breakfast Jen had promised us might never come. There must have been a miscommunication between Jen and the driver, but we stopped eventually at a roadhouse restaurant that was strangely formal with stained satin tablecloths and waiters in striped satin waistcoats and bow ties. It was a bit much for 10 am really. Jen ordered us all the Turkish version of scrambled eggs, which were mostly tomatoes and peppers, with chilli and a bit of egg. It was delicious. That plus proper Turkish bread and two cups of black tea = perfect breakfast. Then we were back in the bus for another three hours, through rolling farmlands and tiny little villages off the highway. I slept a lot of the way although it didn’t do much to make up for my restless night.

Coming into Cappadocia was more interesting, as we started to spot the white rocks the region is famous for. I had no idea what to expect from this area, although I’d read descriptions and seen photos, but it absolutely did not disappoint. Goreme was amazing, a small village practically carved into the white rocks. There was a lot of building going on, I guess lots of people like the idea of living or staying in a cave. Our hotel was amazing; Toby and I were in a really cave-like room without windows. The terraces on the hotel had brilliant views down the hill. Once we were settled in the hotel we went to have lunch in a house that had been converted into a restaurant. Jen had ordered our food from the road so it had been cooking for hours in little terracotta pots. We sat around a low table on cushioned benches and ‘donkeys’ (small stools you straddle) and we ate bread, red cabbage, mini chillies and shepherd salad (the tomato and cucumber mixed with mint and other things). The waiters broke the tops off the terracotta pots, the way you do with a hard-boiled egg, and then tipped the contents onto a place with rice and cabbage. So good.

By the end of lunch I was ready to collapse from exhaustion (it had been a busy week) but people were ordering dessert and talking about visiting a carpet shop. I managed to escape from the group and went back to the hotel to sleep for two hours. I had a long hot shower and did some washing and was feeling much more human by the time everyone got back from their trip to the carpet shop.

For dinner we went to a nearby village to eat in a local family’s house, which was more a series of terraces, stairs and rooms carved into rock. Not the sort of family friendly house you would expect in Australia, considering they had a two-year-old. I am not sure how they stop him falling down stairs. They had a table set up for us outside with the most amazing view, but it was deemed too cold so we ended up inside in another cave room, sitting on cushions around a low table. The father of the family, Nazeem, took great pride in showing us the work he had done to his house and the things he has collected to decorate it. Dinner was (I assume cooked by his wife and then) served by Nazeem and his two older children. It started with salad and then burghal soup with lots of bread, and then rice and a chick pea and lamb stew. Dessert was a bowl of grape compote, although the grapes were nearly sultanas. It was light and syrupy and a good end to the meal. We also partook of Nazeem’s very boozy home brew red wine and felt very full and sleepy as we headed back to the hotel.

The next day started early; we heard the call to prayer a bit after 4 am and then got a wake up call we weren’t expecting at 4.30 am. We managed to doze a little longer and were ready for the bus at 5.15 am, although it was raining and our chances of getting up in a hot air balloon were looking slim. While we were waiting in reception Di heard a noise and we went outside to where one of the ladies from the group was sprawled at the bottom of one of the staircases. She was obviously in a lot of pain and seemed to pass out for a moment. Luckily Jen was awake (the night before we had joked that the day she didn’t get up early to meet the bus would be the day something went wrong) and she called an ambulance, as well as a local friend of hers to go to the hospital with them. They got her foot up on a cushion (they’re good for so many things) and covered her with a blanket and an umbrella. She’d slipped on the steps in the dark as the hotel didn’t have any lights on; I’d been surprised by that as well when we’d left our room. At this point we were cold and a bit worried and ready to go back to bed, but the bus turned up so off we went, minus one. We were taken to an office in town that looked a lot like those rescue centres you see on TV during fires or floods, full of people in outdoor gear looking apprehensive and tired. We were given tea and biscuits and told we were waiting for the wind and rain to die down; apparently it had been fine at 4.30 am when we got our wake up call. Jen had told us that by booking on our first morning we’d be able to go the next day if the weather was bad, but the woman running the company told us they were heavily booked and we shouldn’t get our hopes up. After an hour of waiting (which included being spontaneously serenaded by what I assume was a choir, which seemed very rude at such an early hour) we were herded onto a bus and assumed we were finally going back to bed, but no. The wind had calmed a bit, so we were flying. They took us to one spot that wasn’t quite right, so we ended up in another where they inflated the balloon while we all stood around taking photos. Everywhere you look in Cappadocia there is a great view, so you just keep taking more and more. Finally we climbed into the balloon (4 to a box, 4 boxes) and were shown the landing position in case it got rough (I got to lean back against Toby, which I liked) and then we were off. It was a very strange sensation as you really are just floating, and that’s exactly what it feels like. I was okay while we were close to the ground and the view really was incredible. I could see a balloon so high up they got lost in the clouds and I knew I’d hate that; Toby said he doubted we would go that high, so I tried to relax. I started feeling nervous as we got higher, but I concentrated on the horizon rather than looking straight down, which helped. But then we got higher still, and the clouds closed in beneath us and when I lost my focal point of the horizon, I panicked. It was snowing as well so on top of being tired and well out of my comfort zone, I was freezing. I concentrated on staying calm since there were so many people around who wouldn’t appreciate a screaming girl, but I have never been so glad to see the ground before. The pilot was great and in constant contact with other pilots as well as the trucks on the ground, so once we were further down I relaxed a bit for our final few minutes, although I couldn’t help thinking it was the most expensive panic attack ever. I was relieved when we finally landed (on the trailer of a truck, which I thought was impressive) and happy to guzzle the cherry juice and champagne we were given once we were down. We sang happy birthday to a girl who looked Chinese, spoke with an American accent and was translating for a group of Ukrainians, and had some cake and were given certificates with a picture of a balloon in perfect weather. I’m sure I would have enjoyed the experience more if we hadn’t ended up in snow clouds.

It was the best hot shower ever when we got back. The hotel manager told us the lady who had tripped had broken her leg, which seemed extraordinary given the distance she’d fallen. Jen was still at the hospital with her, but our local guide (a very cute Turkish man called Ali) showed up after breakfast to take us to the Underground City. By this time the weather had cleared up perfectly (of course), so back in the bus for a 40 minute trip to Derinkuyu. The Underground City is where they have excavated cities under Cappadocia dating back to the 6th century BC. They were mainly used to hide from invaders and provided a safe place for early Christians to practise their religion. There were 150 cities housing around 10 000 people, and we saw a tiny part of one. It had a kitchen, stable, storage areas, bedrooms, a church, a meeting hall and of course a winery (of sorts). There were tunnels running through the rooms for ventilation and communication, and rolling stone doors like what you see on old cartoons. In the walls were carved little niches used for lighting with linseed oil, and also for finding your way in the dark when enemies came. Sometimes the tunnels we walked through were large, but they got very low and tight at other times. We ended up about 45 feet underground. The worst part of it was that they don’t control how many people go down at a time, so it got very crowded with guides trying to negotiate their group’s turn up and down the stairs. Just an accident waiting to happen really, as all it would take would be one moron to create a panic, and it would be mayhem.

Luckily we got out alive and back in the bus and about this time I started feeling ill, as though something I ate wasn’t agreeing with me. I tried to ignore it and we drove to Panorama, a spot high on a hill with brilliant views (again). It was quite the tourist trap with lots of little stalls selling all sorts of rubbish, but I bought a coke to try and settle my tummy and Toby got some biscuits since he was starving. Our next stop was the Open Air Museum, an optional activity on the itinerary but everyone wanted to go so Ali agreed to take us along. I was glad we went, even though I was mostly concentrating on not losing the contents of my stomach. The museum is in a place where the early Christians built churches and other rooms right into the rock. Some are decorated with the most beautiful and detailed frescoes, although not all are well preserved since UNESCO and the Turkish government didn’t start caring until the 1980s. It was an incredible piece of Christian history in the heart of an Islamic country.

After the museum, we decided to walk back to town via Love Valley, which Ali said was about 2 kilometres and even though I was feeling pretty rotten at this point, I thought that would be about 30 minutes and I could probably manage. In hindsight I should have not been so keen to avoid a fuss and just asked Ali to get me a taxi then and there. It was kind of pleasant to be out walking in the countryside and to see the rocks we’d seen from the balloons at ground level. We went into Love Valley and I thought we must be nearly back to town, but then Ali said we had to follow the track back to the main road and keep walking. Grrrr. I started to walk back myself as the situation was getting dire. I walked very, very slowly and it was just getting ridiculous with Di having to hold my hand as I went through awful spasms and tried not to think about how humiliating this was about to get, so Ali ran back to the main road and called the driver of the bus for me. He wasn’t answering his phone and Ali asked if I wanted to go to the hospital; I said I’d be happy with a bathroom and he smiled knowingly. Joy of joys, the driver turned up very quickly and we were back at the hotel in no time, where I wanted to give Ali a big hug but I was in a rush so instead I left Toby to give him a good tip. I took some drugs Di had and went to bed for two hours, both of which worked a treat and I was ready to meet the group for dinner, although still a bit wobbly and fragile. It was weird being around 12 people who knew all about my digestive problems, but being experience travellers (not to mention grown ups) everyone was very understanding and really when I thought about the lady in hospital, it seemed very minor. Di and Jen bought me some mint tea and fresh mint on their visit to the lady in hospital, so I had that as well and then we went to a terrace bar for a drink where we toasted the broken leg’s owner and enjoyed sunset over the white hills. After a drink Toby and I went to a restaurant in the village with the other couples from the group (not on purpose, it just worked out that way). It was quite touristy but I loved it for the cushions, the artwork and the old guy playing a Turkish sitar (had a different name which I forget now) right beside us. I just had water and bites of everyone else’s food, but it was still a great evening especially when another guy with a drum joined the sitar player, and then the waiter sat down with some spoons and the three of them just went off. It was great; a good end to an otherwise emotional day.