There was another delayed start in Antalya as the front license plate of our mini bus had been stolen overnight; after waiting a while for the police to come we eventually just piled in and drove to the station ourselves. Our driver told Jen that in ten years of driving for Intrepid he had never had so many things go wrong on one trip. He had been great, helping our injured people in and out of the bus and keeping a friendly smile on his face all the time. Once the police were sorted out, we had a magnificent drive snaking along the coast and through lush valleys. There was an early lunch stop for gozleme (Turkish pancakes) by a lake and then we stopped again an hour or so later at Mira, home of St Nicholas and also some brilliant Lycian ruins. We paid 5 lira to look at the tombs carved into the rock face and also an amazing outdoor theatre. I remember thinking how incredible it was that the basic design for theatres hasn’t changed at all, and even back in ancient time there was an effort made to create a grand and beautiful space. Theatres have always had such a sense of occasion about them.
We got into Kas about 3pm that afternoon, to a hotel not quite as nice as Antalya but the room had a little balcony with a lovely view of the ocean. Jen took us for one of her orientation walks through the town, which was quite small and concentrated around the harbour with cobblestoned streets and lots of shops. We had a late lunch by the water and then Toby and I went down a little path trying to find a beach. It turned out Kas’s coastline was just rocks. We were accosted by a ‘friendly’ man who invited us to his free beach and when we said no, started to open his satchel and said, ‘Well then I have some presents for you.’ We just ran away. Toby didn’t really mind as the man acted so nice, but I found it far more intimidating and manipulative than the shopkeepers who are obviously aggressive; I just didn’t trust it. Toby rested in the afternoon as he still wasn’t feeling well, and I went in search of a beach for some journal time. But the one over the road from the hotel was a beach/restaurant, very popular in Kas where there is a café overlooking the water and you can lie on a beach chair. But I assume the pressure to buy something is enormous, so I ended up on the terrace of our hotel, all closed in to the elements but entirely glass so the view was wonderful.
Jen took us to one of her favourite restaurants for dinner; the girl who’d broken her ankle had decided to fly home so it was her final meal with us. The place was called Mama’s, even though the girl who seemed to be in charge was probably thirty years old. The speciality of the house was called Mama’s Pastry; either meat or mushrooms mixed with cheese and then wrapped in thin pastry, coated in breadcrumbs and deep-fried. At least I think that’s how they did it; apparently she refuses to share the recipe. It was delicious. The other memorable part of the meal was a dip made of grated carrot, yoghurt and cooked zucchini flesh (no seeds). It was a meal that made me realise that after a week, I still wasn’t sick of Turkish food and had no hankering for spaghetti bolognaise or anything else, like some other people in the group. I found the food varied and seasonal and fresh, and almost always with perfect spices. Yum.
Toby and I got up early the next morning to farewell the girl going home; Toby had to help her down the stairs so I went to say goodbye. We were sad to see her go but she seemed happy with her decision, especially as her insurance company had arranged for her to fly business class with Emirates (a later email from her said she’d been upgraded to first class and would never be able to fly cattle class again). We went back to bed for a while and later ate breakfast in the terrace of the hotel (I remember their hard boiled eggs had been halved and sprinkled with paprika and dill, a nice change from the usual plain eggs, and the tomato wedges were mixed with perfect fresh basil, and as well as plain bread there were triangles of puff pastry you could pull open and fill with cheese or honey or whatever). After breakfast, we walked into town to get on our private boat for the day. This day ended up being one of our favourites of the entire trip as it was so relaxing and beautiful. You are forced to relax and enjoy the view; I suppose you could take a book or your MP3 or even a laptop but I really think it would ruin the experience. We stopped in a little cove mid-morning and Toby and I and another couple swam, even though it was freezing. The water was the most amazing colour of blue. We got back on the boat to another cove where you could swim to land and a few people did, but by then I was dry and warm and happy to stay on board. While we were anchored there they served us lunch – big salads and bread and kebabs and meatballs they barbequed on a gas burner set up on the gang plank. Another boat had the same idea as us to stop in the same cove, and after a little while a man in a small motorboat came by selling ice creams. What a great job. They were expensive but the experience was worth it.
After lunch we went to another island where the village of Simena is, which was full of shops and restaurants spilling down a steep hillside. It was a maze of dusty pathways bordered by weeds and haunted by women and children selling bracelets. Toby and I decided to forgo the 5 lira fortress and tomb walk in the heat, and instead followed Jen to a café she claimed made some of the best ice cream in Turkey. But we were a week too early; Jen was lifting all the metal lids on the ice cream counter staring into the empty pots, wailing ‘No ice cream? No ice cream?’ The boy just shrugged. So we bought a really expensive Diet Coke and just enjoyed the view. The rest of the group ended up there as well, all in search of the famous ice cream, so I’m sure they are making a fortune selling drinks to people who come for ice cream and can’t be bothered leaving. Simena was also the place I bought some evil eye bracelets for myself and Di; after our two broken limbs Jen had instructed the group to all go and buy ourselves evil eye amulets, which are supposed to protect you from bad luck. The whole group ended up wearing at least one, if not more. It’s a silly superstition but after 2 broken bones in nearly as many days, we weren’t taking any chances.
On the way back to Kas the weather changed and we had a choppy, grey ride. We made it back in one piece. Toby and I spent the night with another couple on the trip, having dinner at a place near the water and then big desserts in a cute café called the Hideaway, which was down a little pathway beside a house and really just a garden full of trees and tables and chairs. It was lovely, even though I was so full after dessert I could barely move.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Day 7: Antalya
We set our alarm for 7 and joined some of the rest of the group for an early morning walk along the water. We figured we’d missed enough of the optional activities and it was time to take advantage of the fact we had someone showing us around such lovely places. We walked out to the island where we’d eaten dinner, and got to go inside an old Greek Orthodox church that had been gutted. It was sad to see lots of graffiti, but there were some signs it was being restored. Toby and I started to dream of buying a house there (or even a church). It would be a great place to write one’s novel.
We got back to the hotel around 9 and sat down for breakfast with one of the Australian girls who told us she’d tripped on the stairs coming down from her room and hurt her ankle. She said it seemed okay and I told her not to tell Jen, who was now a bit paranoid about our group when it came to stairs. I wanted to go rose product shopping since the area was famous for its roses, so I left her and Toby to finish their packing and went out. The shop I wanted to visit was shut so I went to the bazaar, which was really just a tiny courtyard with some shops in it. I went to a shop recommended by another couple in the group and bought some hand cream, although the two kids minding the shop absolutely stared at me the whole time and really invaded my personal space. I wasn’t sure if I was meant to be chatty or nervous or turned off shoplifting.
Back at the hotel I ran into Di, who said the girl’s ankle was swollen up and looked like her friend’s when she had broken hers in Mexico. Great. Jen decided to err on the side of caution and took her off to the hospital, which she had jokingly pointed out when we drove into town the previous afternoon. They were back in just less than an hour, with a partially broken ankle, a plaster cast and crutches that had all cost her around 70 lira which seemed a bargain. She was very wobbly on the crutches so Toby helped carry her to the bathroom and then into the van. She was a very small woman so if it had to happen to anyone I suppose it was good it was her. No one could believe we had two broken bones in less than a week. Jen was incredulous, having never had an injury like that during her time in Turkey, but she coped well and never lost her sense of humour (in front of us, anyway).
After the morning’s drama, we had a three hour drive through some spectacular mountain scenery and arrived in Antalya in the afternoon. I got my first glimpse of the Mediterranean but driving into the city, it felt like any other affluent, concrete-clad place at first. Luckily our hotel was in Kaleici, the old town by the Roman harbour. We had an interesting time navigating the tiny cobbled streets in the mini bus but eventually made it to the hotel where we fell in love with it immediately, perched as it was with views of the harbour and ocean. There was a pool in a gorgeous courtyard and then to get to our room we walked through another terrace full of shady trees and fountains. The room was lovely too, with a really clean bathroom and a window seat looking out onto the terrace and across the town.
Di and the Scottish lady went off to play an expensive round of golf and our injured one went off to rest, so Jen took the rest of us down to the harbour where we saw them making sticky Turkish ice cream and said no to all the men who wanted us to take cruises on their boats, and then up the cliff to find food. After lunch everyone else went off to the museum but Toby and I decided we would rather spend our money and a beautiful afternoon just exploring the town, which felt very Surfers Paradise in places. I bought a sun dress (didn’t haggle) and we went to a chemist as Toby had a sore throat and bought some cheap Strepsils and gargle. We had time before dinner to make use of the quaint gym in the hotel where half the equipment didn’t work and the other half was broken in some way. For dinner we walked down the hill (with Toby carrying our injured friend) to a restaurant on the water where the food was okay and the view more than made up for it. The water really was the most amazing shade of blue, especially close to the water where it is definitely turquoise.
This was the day we started really feeling like we were on holidays, with such a nice hotel and fantastic weather and a relaxed, coasty vibe about the place. We were sorry to only be staying one night, although Jen promised us we wouldn’t mind so much once we got to Kas, our next stop.
We got back to the hotel around 9 and sat down for breakfast with one of the Australian girls who told us she’d tripped on the stairs coming down from her room and hurt her ankle. She said it seemed okay and I told her not to tell Jen, who was now a bit paranoid about our group when it came to stairs. I wanted to go rose product shopping since the area was famous for its roses, so I left her and Toby to finish their packing and went out. The shop I wanted to visit was shut so I went to the bazaar, which was really just a tiny courtyard with some shops in it. I went to a shop recommended by another couple in the group and bought some hand cream, although the two kids minding the shop absolutely stared at me the whole time and really invaded my personal space. I wasn’t sure if I was meant to be chatty or nervous or turned off shoplifting.
Back at the hotel I ran into Di, who said the girl’s ankle was swollen up and looked like her friend’s when she had broken hers in Mexico. Great. Jen decided to err on the side of caution and took her off to the hospital, which she had jokingly pointed out when we drove into town the previous afternoon. They were back in just less than an hour, with a partially broken ankle, a plaster cast and crutches that had all cost her around 70 lira which seemed a bargain. She was very wobbly on the crutches so Toby helped carry her to the bathroom and then into the van. She was a very small woman so if it had to happen to anyone I suppose it was good it was her. No one could believe we had two broken bones in less than a week. Jen was incredulous, having never had an injury like that during her time in Turkey, but she coped well and never lost her sense of humour (in front of us, anyway).
After the morning’s drama, we had a three hour drive through some spectacular mountain scenery and arrived in Antalya in the afternoon. I got my first glimpse of the Mediterranean but driving into the city, it felt like any other affluent, concrete-clad place at first. Luckily our hotel was in Kaleici, the old town by the Roman harbour. We had an interesting time navigating the tiny cobbled streets in the mini bus but eventually made it to the hotel where we fell in love with it immediately, perched as it was with views of the harbour and ocean. There was a pool in a gorgeous courtyard and then to get to our room we walked through another terrace full of shady trees and fountains. The room was lovely too, with a really clean bathroom and a window seat looking out onto the terrace and across the town.
Di and the Scottish lady went off to play an expensive round of golf and our injured one went off to rest, so Jen took the rest of us down to the harbour where we saw them making sticky Turkish ice cream and said no to all the men who wanted us to take cruises on their boats, and then up the cliff to find food. After lunch everyone else went off to the museum but Toby and I decided we would rather spend our money and a beautiful afternoon just exploring the town, which felt very Surfers Paradise in places. I bought a sun dress (didn’t haggle) and we went to a chemist as Toby had a sore throat and bought some cheap Strepsils and gargle. We had time before dinner to make use of the quaint gym in the hotel where half the equipment didn’t work and the other half was broken in some way. For dinner we walked down the hill (with Toby carrying our injured friend) to a restaurant on the water where the food was okay and the view more than made up for it. The water really was the most amazing shade of blue, especially close to the water where it is definitely turquoise.
This was the day we started really feeling like we were on holidays, with such a nice hotel and fantastic weather and a relaxed, coasty vibe about the place. We were sorry to only be staying one night, although Jen promised us we wouldn’t mind so much once we got to Kas, our next stop.
Day 6: Egirdir
We had a lazy start the next day; there was a pottery tour at 9.30 am which Toby and I decided to skip in favour of a sleep-in. It was the first full night’s sleep I’d had in days and I felt like a new woman when I woke up. We had been planning to explore some of the caves by ourselves but we ran out of time so we just met the rest of the group at 11 and left by bus to pick up Jen at the hospital, where she had been visiting our fallen comrade who ended up needing to be flown back to Istanbul for surgery. We were very sad to have lost one of our group in such awful circumstances, but I’m sure not as sad as she was. At times like this I think travelling on a tour is such a good idea; Jen was able to help deal with the insurance company and arrange for someone to fly with her, and also for some Istanbul friends to visit her occasionally so she wouldn’t go crazy. From Goreme we drove through rolling farmland until about lunchtime when we hit the Anatolian plateau, and then the landscape was full of flat nothingness. We hate at a roadside restaurant that was super expensive – my own spoonful of rice and salad cost 6 lira, while Toby’s plate of meatballs that half filled him up cost 8. Ouch. There was a little playground outside the restaurant so Toby and I played on the swings and monkey bars; it was nice to be outside in a T shirt and not cold, as up until that point the Turkish weather had not been much better than what we’d left behind in Scotland.
The rest of the drive was boring, although a couple of things caught my eye. One was that occasionally you would see families living in tents by the side of the road; I asked Jen about them who said they are semi-nomadic farm workers. It looked like a tough way to raise kids. The other was a man I saw in a field, kneeling under a tree in a seemingly random direction I assumed was towards Mecca. I loved the simple elegance of his position, and the ritual of it; the idea that in any day, no matter what you are doing, there is time to just stop and think about something bigger than you. But mostly I slept in the bus, until we hit what Jen called the lake district, which was much more interesting. Lake Egirdir, where we stayed, was incredibly beautiful and rather alpine-esque being ringed by mountains, some with snow, although parts of the shore looked very Mediterranean. After we got to our (not very nice) hotel we went straight out for a walk along the water, which looked clean and clear and wasn’t as cold as I expected. Toby skimmed rocks but I just couldn’t get it so I threw them instead. For dinner we were driven out to an ‘island’ on the lake that was mostly inhabited by Greek people until the population exchange in the 1920s. We had drinks on a terrace looking over the water but it got too cold so we moved inside to eat. Most of us got trout (a bargain at 6 lira); we also had dolmades, borek, bread and chips although we had to ask for the latter which didn’t arrive until we’d finished everything else. My stomach handled all the food which I was grateful for; the magic of Di’s pills.
The rest of the drive was boring, although a couple of things caught my eye. One was that occasionally you would see families living in tents by the side of the road; I asked Jen about them who said they are semi-nomadic farm workers. It looked like a tough way to raise kids. The other was a man I saw in a field, kneeling under a tree in a seemingly random direction I assumed was towards Mecca. I loved the simple elegance of his position, and the ritual of it; the idea that in any day, no matter what you are doing, there is time to just stop and think about something bigger than you. But mostly I slept in the bus, until we hit what Jen called the lake district, which was much more interesting. Lake Egirdir, where we stayed, was incredibly beautiful and rather alpine-esque being ringed by mountains, some with snow, although parts of the shore looked very Mediterranean. After we got to our (not very nice) hotel we went straight out for a walk along the water, which looked clean and clear and wasn’t as cold as I expected. Toby skimmed rocks but I just couldn’t get it so I threw them instead. For dinner we were driven out to an ‘island’ on the lake that was mostly inhabited by Greek people until the population exchange in the 1920s. We had drinks on a terrace looking over the water but it got too cold so we moved inside to eat. Most of us got trout (a bargain at 6 lira); we also had dolmades, borek, bread and chips although we had to ask for the latter which didn’t arrive until we’d finished everything else. My stomach handled all the food which I was grateful for; the magic of Di’s pills.
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.
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.
Days 1-3: Istanbul
I must first apologise for the length of the following posts for our trip from Turkey...I kept a detailed journal for most of the trip, wanting to be able to remember everything. And now, everyone can remember everything. It also means I have no time to include photos but in any case, we have over 500 with which to bore everyone to tears when we are back in Oz.
We had an early start (4.15am taxi to the airport) and an uneventful flight to Amsterdam, and then another one to Istanbul. There were some lovely views over the Alps as we passed Salzberg, no singing nuns to be seen unfortunately. We had a long wait at customs; there were lots of people who had walked straight past the office with VISA written out the front, and a list of nationalities that needed one, and then had to back-track which added to our time. But our luggage arrived safely and we easily met our driver. Ever since I’ve been flying, I have wanted to come out into the arrivals hall and see my name on a little sign, and this time it happened, except it wasn’t my name exactly. We were being driven to our hotel with another lady on our tour, who was from Glasgow. The driver took our bags and hurried us out of the airport to a van, well two vans parked next to each other. One was plain white and the other was orange with NAKED TOUR painted on the side. Luckily we got into the plain white van and were hurtled into the city. The first things I noticed were all the trees and public spaces, especially children’s playgrounds, and lots of Turkish flags flying from windows and balconies on apartment buildings that looked rather poor and run-down. There were groups of men working in parks and flower beds; the whole city I found has a sense of urgency about it, everyone is doing something. The streets around our hotel, which was located just behind the Blue Mosque in Sultanahmet, were crazy, very narrow cobbled stones streets with steep hills, and lots of tourists and honking of horns. There were shops selling hats and rugs and jewellery, with men standing outside smoking and yelling at each other. Around our hotel, there were a lot of crumbling stone walls and wooden buildings that had seen better days; the one on the corner up the hill was missing a top floor. It looked like a fire had destroyed it. Across the street was a building that looked derelict and abandoned, but later we noticed washing hanging from the line so I suppose someone must have lived there. It was a strange place; the whole street felt like one big flammable accident waiting to happen.
The hotel was lovely except they had lost Di’s booking; she ended up being put in what we assumed was the spare room, in the basement by the breakfast area. Better than nothing I suppose. After we settled in we went out in hunt of an ATM and some food, once we realised the driver had hurried us so much in the airport we hadn’t had a chance to stock up on lira. It was a long walk to find an ATM and when we finally did we were so hungry we went to the first café we found, which had a bain marie in the front window full of decent looking food. The man ushered us in and told us to tell the other man what we wanted piled on our plate; we had a bad feeling this would come back to haunt us and it did. The food was very edible although nothing special, but when the bill came we were horrified to discover we had just spent 60 lira on 3 plates of food and some water. Ouch. We walked around a bit more; the area around the Blue Mosque was incredibly crowded and I couldn’t understand where so many people had come from. There were a lot of Aussies who I assume had come up from Gallipoli as it was the day after Anzac Day; I am sad to say they weren’t exactly doing us proud, although there was nothing particularly wrong with their behaviour. After our wonder we went back to the hotel for a rest and then went for another walk down along the waterfront, although it started to rain and I had a general sense of uneasiness, probably to do with the crumbling shells of buildings and piles of rubbish being picked over by feral cats. On our way back to the streets near the hotel we stumbled onto a small bazaar where there were still some shops open, so we had a look at rugs and jewellery and pretty things before sitting down for dinner at a café where the waiter had earlier tried to point us in the direction of the ATMs (not his fault we got lost). Toby had a mixed kebab (Turkish version of a mixed grill) and Di and I both had a delicious lentil and mint soup since we were still full from our late lunch. We got some bread (you always get bread in Turkey) and also some free hummus, which ended up being the only hummus we ate the whole time, but it was chunky and garlicky and very tasty. The whole meal cost us half as much as our lunch had, and I ended the day feeling clean and well-fed and less overwhelmed than before.
I had a restless sleep that night; there was a lot of street noise and the hotel only provided one small, thin blanket between the two of us. And of course there was our introduction to the early morning prayer call from the Blue Mosque about 50 metres away, which you never quite got used to. We had breakfast at the hotel, which had a small selection of Western items (cereal, boiled eggs, bread to toast) as well as Turkish (sliced tomato, cucumber, olives and cheese) and then went for a walk through the Blue Mosque courtyard and then up the main road to the Grand Bazaar (which was closed, being Sunday) and then down the hill again to the water. On our way down to the water we passed a baklava and Turkish delight shop and stopped to look from the outside. As usual, a man from inside came out to tempt us with all his salesman flair; he tried to convince Toby that the two of us were having an affair and Toby had now caught us out. He asked us our names and Di said, ‘Well what’s your name?’ to which he replied, ‘I am Mr Delicious.’ We did buy some of his baklava (just two pieces, not a kilo which is how they are priced) and it was delicious, very flaky and fresh, and every time we passed his shop we would say there’s Mr Delicious. He was one of the less intimidating shop owners we came across; I never quite got used to being yelled at by strangers in the street who wanted me to look at their rugs/jewellery/baklava/spices/scarves. They always ask where you are from, and when Di said ‘Australia’ to one, he then asked if we were from Wagga Wagga. We burst out laughing; he tried to tell us why Wagga is famous in Turkey but none of us were paying any attention as we were just trying to run away. For lunch we went to a restaurant behind the hotel which was mentioned in the Lonely Planet; I ordered a bean soup which ended up being just a runny version of baked beans, which I guess is where the idea for baked beans came from. The bread in that place was like the Turkish bread we are used to in Australia, but without the doughy middle; just the crisp seed-covered outside. Yummy.
At 1pm that afternoon we met our tour group for the first time, in the breakfast room at our hotel. Our leader’s name was Jen, a young woman from Australia, Condobolin to be exact. There were 12 of us, 3 couples and 6 single women. All the couples were Australian and 3 of the single women were too; the other 3 were English, Scottish and American. I was almost certainly the youngest of the group. We had to fill in lots of forms with our insurance and next of kin details and medical information and then Jen sat down and talked to us for a while about her experience working in Turkey and things to know about the country, practical things like drinking water, squat toilets, avoiding shopkeepers, and the price of beer. After the meeting Jen walked us to Aya Sofya, the big mosque across the road from the Blue Mosque although it no longer operates as such and has been a museum since the 1930s. From the outside Aya Sofya is not as beautiful as the Blue Mosque; it is somewhat lopsided and the colours aren’t as nice. But inside it was an immense and impressive space, despite the (permanent) scaffolding holding up the ceiling and the huge crowds. It took my breath away. The number of people and the fact it hasn’t been a place of worship for so long meant it didn’t really have the peaceful feeling I normally feel in those places, but still it was a fantastic place to wander, especially upstairs where they had found frescoes beneath the wall paint (the Muslims had just painted over the earlier Christian paintings). They were really incredible.
We met up with the group outside the main gate, and bought some of the doughy pretzel-type things called simits (although we didn’t know that at the time). Jen took us on a walk through some narrow back streets to show us some other parts of Istanbul tourists normally miss, to visit Kocuk Aya Sofya (I think that means ‘small’ as it was based on the original) which she said was her favourite mosque in Istanbul. Once inside I could definitely see why; it was an incredibly clean, serene space. Toby put it well when he said it felt holy. It was all done in blue and white, and full of natural light. Having a scarf over my hair and no shoes on added to that hushed, awed feeling I felt there. It was lovely and I felt rejuvenated from the crowds and grot we’d been around in other parts of Istanbul. After the mosque we went to a local café which was just how would picture a Turkish café, as it was all dark and full of wooden tables with nargile and backgammon on them, and carpets hanging on the walls. It was rather cavernous but opened out in the back to a wonderful 180-degree view of the Sea of Marmara. The whole back of the café was open, which made the sweet-smelling nargile smoke easier to bear. We sat in a little private area and had hot drinks, and then Jen put us all on a tram to visit another mosque, Rustem Pasa. This one was entered via a stone staircase in a courtyard, which would have made it easy to miss if we weren’t with someone who knew the way. The Rustem is famous for its mosaic tiles, which were beautifully intricate, but it still didn’t have the same serenity as Kocuk Aya Sofya. Like in Japan with their temples, I can see that you would easily overdoes on mosques so it was good we only had one more to do.
After the Rustem Jen took us for dinner at a local kebab place where we ate cheap kebabs and bread (again) and then we walked back to our hotel via Mr Delicious, who waved at us through his shop window. Not sure if he actually remembered us, but it’s his job to be friendly.
Our final day in Istanbul started with a visit to the Blue Mosque, where my experience was ruined by the number of women without scarves and the number of people wearing shorts. It seemed so thoughtless and disrespectful. It was not hard to follow the mosque’s requests for appropriate clothing; they even had head scarves for women to borrow. I was particularly annoyed by three young guys wearing boardies (I assume they were Australian, shame on them) and an entire tour group of Japanese ladies without head scarves, which bothered me because of the rules they have in Japan for entering temples. It made me understand why so many mosques don’t open to tourists. The building itself was beautiful though. There was a women’s section at the back; during her morning talk about Islam Jen had told us that was because men couldn’t be trusted to not get distracted by women bending over during prayers, but why they felt the need for an actual wooden partition so women can’t see, I’m not sure.
After the Blue Mosque we went to the Grand Bazaar, via a cemetery full of relatively important people where Jen talked a bit about Muslim funeral customs. Some of us agreed that the lack of autopsies was probably a positive thing; you accept that the death was God’s will, and move on. No dwelling on the why or the how, which often seems such a devastating aspect to grief. The Grand Bazaar was mercifully uncrowded. We only did one corridor; Jen set us loose at one end and said she would see us at the other end in 10 minutes. There are apparently over 4000 shops spread across the maze so we planned to go back another time. There were lots of men standing outside their shops, yelling at customers and each other. I saw one well-dressed guy filing his nails as he leaned against his shop window. The men in Istanbul were quite fashionable and there is a lot of guy love (kissing of cheeks, linking of arms), although at first I kept thinking I was seeing a lot of open gay couples. Interesting.
From the Bazaar we walked down to Topkapi Palace, where it took ages to get in through security. Our first stop was the harem (which means ‘private’ or ‘forbidden’ and only refers to the area where the family lived away from prying eyes; it has less to do with multitudes of naked women peeling grapes), which blew me away. I think partly I was amazed because it was gorgeous, and partly because you got a sense of what it would be like to live there. After the harem we needed some lunch; there was only one place to eat at the Palace and although the view over the water was lovely the food was exceedingly ordinary and outrageously overpriced. There was also a 15 minute wait for the ladies’ toilet. We saw a couple more rooms of the Palace (which was really a group of buildings scattered through several courtyards and gardens), including a ‘treasures’ section full of stuff supposedly belonging to prophets (like Abraham’s turban, David’s sword, Moses’ stick, Mohammed’s tooth) but it was so unbearably crowded I had to skip most of it. I was feeling overwhelmed by the amount of stuff and number of people. There are only so many intricate mosaics and beautiful rooms you can look at before it all starts feeling repetitive. The three of us agreed we’d had enough of the Palace, so Di went to spend the afternoon with a couple of other ladies from the tour group while Toby and I visited the Basilica Cistern.
The Cistern was amazing, and I imagine it’s one of the most unique things I will ever see. It is essentially an ancient water storage facility, and I’m sure the 6th century bureaucrats and engineers and workmen who put it together would be flummoxed by the idea of tourists paying to go and see it, but it really is brilliant. Horror movie material. They have coloured lights playing in the water and music on, so they have worked hard to make it as interesting as possible. After the Cistern we headed back to the hotel via a mini market that was the miniest market ever: no bread, no fruit, nothing. Not sure what the point of the market was, although they did sell flour to make bread. We bought water and half a dozen muesli bars to stock up for the train trip, and then went to Starbucks so Toby could have internet time and I could have journal time in a smoke-free environment. (Yes, we go to Starbucks when we are in foreign countries; but sometimes all you want is a cup of tea, minus the cigarette smoke. So shoot us.) We went to the spice bazaar once we were feeling refreshed, although the rain and number of people just got on my nerves so it wasn’t the best experience. I did love the neat pyramids of powdered spices, and the hanging herbs and blocks of Turkish delight with pistachios embedded in them. We didn’t try anything as we didn’t want the pressure to buy, but it was an interesting thing to see.
We had an early dinner at the same kebab place Jen had taken us to the night before, since we were in the area and knew it was cheap and edible. Back at the hotel, the group re-joined and we were loaded into a mini van and driven across the bridge to the ferry terminal. It took about 20 minutes for the ferry to get to the train station, which I spent not thinking about all the ferry disasters in Turkey you hear on the news. It was a nice way to see the lights of Istanbul though. We had a long wait at the train station, but I guess when you are transporting 12 people you need to make allowances in case something comes up. We had a good local beer in the restaurant at the station while we were waiting, and learnt how to say ‘cheers’. All our luggage was piled along a wall and at one point a homeless lady came over and started pulling out the bags that were in a particular corner so she could set up her bed for the night. She had a careful routine for getting ready, including putting her scarf on. Although Istanbul clearly had plenty of poor people, it was the first sign I’d seen of actual homelessness; everyone else on the street was always busy and working, trying to sell something even if it was only to stand on their scales and pay for the privilege.
The train was quite nice and new; our cabin had 2 bunk beds and a wash basin, plus a fridge with free chocolate. Mmmm. We spent the first hour of the trip in the dining car, drinking beer and playing magnetic Scrabble with a couple of our fellow Aussies (I won), before retiring to our cabin. I didn’t sleep well and wished I brought ear also didn’t sleep well but he put it down to the cigarette smoke coming through the vents in the ceiling onto his face. Yuck. We ended up sharing a single bunk, and amazingly we both slept better after that.
---------------------------------------------------
We had an early start (4.15am taxi to the airport) and an uneventful flight to Amsterdam, and then another one to Istanbul. There were some lovely views over the Alps as we passed Salzberg, no singing nuns to be seen unfortunately. We had a long wait at customs; there were lots of people who had walked straight past the office with VISA written out the front, and a list of nationalities that needed one, and then had to back-track which added to our time. But our luggage arrived safely and we easily met our driver. Ever since I’ve been flying, I have wanted to come out into the arrivals hall and see my name on a little sign, and this time it happened, except it wasn’t my name exactly. We were being driven to our hotel with another lady on our tour, who was from Glasgow. The driver took our bags and hurried us out of the airport to a van, well two vans parked next to each other. One was plain white and the other was orange with NAKED TOUR painted on the side. Luckily we got into the plain white van and were hurtled into the city. The first things I noticed were all the trees and public spaces, especially children’s playgrounds, and lots of Turkish flags flying from windows and balconies on apartment buildings that looked rather poor and run-down. There were groups of men working in parks and flower beds; the whole city I found has a sense of urgency about it, everyone is doing something. The streets around our hotel, which was located just behind the Blue Mosque in Sultanahmet, were crazy, very narrow cobbled stones streets with steep hills, and lots of tourists and honking of horns. There were shops selling hats and rugs and jewellery, with men standing outside smoking and yelling at each other. Around our hotel, there were a lot of crumbling stone walls and wooden buildings that had seen better days; the one on the corner up the hill was missing a top floor. It looked like a fire had destroyed it. Across the street was a building that looked derelict and abandoned, but later we noticed washing hanging from the line so I suppose someone must have lived there. It was a strange place; the whole street felt like one big flammable accident waiting to happen.
The hotel was lovely except they had lost Di’s booking; she ended up being put in what we assumed was the spare room, in the basement by the breakfast area. Better than nothing I suppose. After we settled in we went out in hunt of an ATM and some food, once we realised the driver had hurried us so much in the airport we hadn’t had a chance to stock up on lira. It was a long walk to find an ATM and when we finally did we were so hungry we went to the first café we found, which had a bain marie in the front window full of decent looking food. The man ushered us in and told us to tell the other man what we wanted piled on our plate; we had a bad feeling this would come back to haunt us and it did. The food was very edible although nothing special, but when the bill came we were horrified to discover we had just spent 60 lira on 3 plates of food and some water. Ouch. We walked around a bit more; the area around the Blue Mosque was incredibly crowded and I couldn’t understand where so many people had come from. There were a lot of Aussies who I assume had come up from Gallipoli as it was the day after Anzac Day; I am sad to say they weren’t exactly doing us proud, although there was nothing particularly wrong with their behaviour. After our wonder we went back to the hotel for a rest and then went for another walk down along the waterfront, although it started to rain and I had a general sense of uneasiness, probably to do with the crumbling shells of buildings and piles of rubbish being picked over by feral cats. On our way back to the streets near the hotel we stumbled onto a small bazaar where there were still some shops open, so we had a look at rugs and jewellery and pretty things before sitting down for dinner at a café where the waiter had earlier tried to point us in the direction of the ATMs (not his fault we got lost). Toby had a mixed kebab (Turkish version of a mixed grill) and Di and I both had a delicious lentil and mint soup since we were still full from our late lunch. We got some bread (you always get bread in Turkey) and also some free hummus, which ended up being the only hummus we ate the whole time, but it was chunky and garlicky and very tasty. The whole meal cost us half as much as our lunch had, and I ended the day feeling clean and well-fed and less overwhelmed than before.
I had a restless sleep that night; there was a lot of street noise and the hotel only provided one small, thin blanket between the two of us. And of course there was our introduction to the early morning prayer call from the Blue Mosque about 50 metres away, which you never quite got used to. We had breakfast at the hotel, which had a small selection of Western items (cereal, boiled eggs, bread to toast) as well as Turkish (sliced tomato, cucumber, olives and cheese) and then went for a walk through the Blue Mosque courtyard and then up the main road to the Grand Bazaar (which was closed, being Sunday) and then down the hill again to the water. On our way down to the water we passed a baklava and Turkish delight shop and stopped to look from the outside. As usual, a man from inside came out to tempt us with all his salesman flair; he tried to convince Toby that the two of us were having an affair and Toby had now caught us out. He asked us our names and Di said, ‘Well what’s your name?’ to which he replied, ‘I am Mr Delicious.’ We did buy some of his baklava (just two pieces, not a kilo which is how they are priced) and it was delicious, very flaky and fresh, and every time we passed his shop we would say there’s Mr Delicious. He was one of the less intimidating shop owners we came across; I never quite got used to being yelled at by strangers in the street who wanted me to look at their rugs/jewellery/baklava/spices/scarves. They always ask where you are from, and when Di said ‘Australia’ to one, he then asked if we were from Wagga Wagga. We burst out laughing; he tried to tell us why Wagga is famous in Turkey but none of us were paying any attention as we were just trying to run away. For lunch we went to a restaurant behind the hotel which was mentioned in the Lonely Planet; I ordered a bean soup which ended up being just a runny version of baked beans, which I guess is where the idea for baked beans came from. The bread in that place was like the Turkish bread we are used to in Australia, but without the doughy middle; just the crisp seed-covered outside. Yummy.
At 1pm that afternoon we met our tour group for the first time, in the breakfast room at our hotel. Our leader’s name was Jen, a young woman from Australia, Condobolin to be exact. There were 12 of us, 3 couples and 6 single women. All the couples were Australian and 3 of the single women were too; the other 3 were English, Scottish and American. I was almost certainly the youngest of the group. We had to fill in lots of forms with our insurance and next of kin details and medical information and then Jen sat down and talked to us for a while about her experience working in Turkey and things to know about the country, practical things like drinking water, squat toilets, avoiding shopkeepers, and the price of beer. After the meeting Jen walked us to Aya Sofya, the big mosque across the road from the Blue Mosque although it no longer operates as such and has been a museum since the 1930s. From the outside Aya Sofya is not as beautiful as the Blue Mosque; it is somewhat lopsided and the colours aren’t as nice. But inside it was an immense and impressive space, despite the (permanent) scaffolding holding up the ceiling and the huge crowds. It took my breath away. The number of people and the fact it hasn’t been a place of worship for so long meant it didn’t really have the peaceful feeling I normally feel in those places, but still it was a fantastic place to wander, especially upstairs where they had found frescoes beneath the wall paint (the Muslims had just painted over the earlier Christian paintings). They were really incredible.
We met up with the group outside the main gate, and bought some of the doughy pretzel-type things called simits (although we didn’t know that at the time). Jen took us on a walk through some narrow back streets to show us some other parts of Istanbul tourists normally miss, to visit Kocuk Aya Sofya (I think that means ‘small’ as it was based on the original) which she said was her favourite mosque in Istanbul. Once inside I could definitely see why; it was an incredibly clean, serene space. Toby put it well when he said it felt holy. It was all done in blue and white, and full of natural light. Having a scarf over my hair and no shoes on added to that hushed, awed feeling I felt there. It was lovely and I felt rejuvenated from the crowds and grot we’d been around in other parts of Istanbul. After the mosque we went to a local café which was just how would picture a Turkish café, as it was all dark and full of wooden tables with nargile and backgammon on them, and carpets hanging on the walls. It was rather cavernous but opened out in the back to a wonderful 180-degree view of the Sea of Marmara. The whole back of the café was open, which made the sweet-smelling nargile smoke easier to bear. We sat in a little private area and had hot drinks, and then Jen put us all on a tram to visit another mosque, Rustem Pasa. This one was entered via a stone staircase in a courtyard, which would have made it easy to miss if we weren’t with someone who knew the way. The Rustem is famous for its mosaic tiles, which were beautifully intricate, but it still didn’t have the same serenity as Kocuk Aya Sofya. Like in Japan with their temples, I can see that you would easily overdoes on mosques so it was good we only had one more to do.
After the Rustem Jen took us for dinner at a local kebab place where we ate cheap kebabs and bread (again) and then we walked back to our hotel via Mr Delicious, who waved at us through his shop window. Not sure if he actually remembered us, but it’s his job to be friendly.
Our final day in Istanbul started with a visit to the Blue Mosque, where my experience was ruined by the number of women without scarves and the number of people wearing shorts. It seemed so thoughtless and disrespectful. It was not hard to follow the mosque’s requests for appropriate clothing; they even had head scarves for women to borrow. I was particularly annoyed by three young guys wearing boardies (I assume they were Australian, shame on them) and an entire tour group of Japanese ladies without head scarves, which bothered me because of the rules they have in Japan for entering temples. It made me understand why so many mosques don’t open to tourists. The building itself was beautiful though. There was a women’s section at the back; during her morning talk about Islam Jen had told us that was because men couldn’t be trusted to not get distracted by women bending over during prayers, but why they felt the need for an actual wooden partition so women can’t see, I’m not sure.
After the Blue Mosque we went to the Grand Bazaar, via a cemetery full of relatively important people where Jen talked a bit about Muslim funeral customs. Some of us agreed that the lack of autopsies was probably a positive thing; you accept that the death was God’s will, and move on. No dwelling on the why or the how, which often seems such a devastating aspect to grief. The Grand Bazaar was mercifully uncrowded. We only did one corridor; Jen set us loose at one end and said she would see us at the other end in 10 minutes. There are apparently over 4000 shops spread across the maze so we planned to go back another time. There were lots of men standing outside their shops, yelling at customers and each other. I saw one well-dressed guy filing his nails as he leaned against his shop window. The men in Istanbul were quite fashionable and there is a lot of guy love (kissing of cheeks, linking of arms), although at first I kept thinking I was seeing a lot of open gay couples. Interesting.
From the Bazaar we walked down to Topkapi Palace, where it took ages to get in through security. Our first stop was the harem (which means ‘private’ or ‘forbidden’ and only refers to the area where the family lived away from prying eyes; it has less to do with multitudes of naked women peeling grapes), which blew me away. I think partly I was amazed because it was gorgeous, and partly because you got a sense of what it would be like to live there. After the harem we needed some lunch; there was only one place to eat at the Palace and although the view over the water was lovely the food was exceedingly ordinary and outrageously overpriced. There was also a 15 minute wait for the ladies’ toilet. We saw a couple more rooms of the Palace (which was really a group of buildings scattered through several courtyards and gardens), including a ‘treasures’ section full of stuff supposedly belonging to prophets (like Abraham’s turban, David’s sword, Moses’ stick, Mohammed’s tooth) but it was so unbearably crowded I had to skip most of it. I was feeling overwhelmed by the amount of stuff and number of people. There are only so many intricate mosaics and beautiful rooms you can look at before it all starts feeling repetitive. The three of us agreed we’d had enough of the Palace, so Di went to spend the afternoon with a couple of other ladies from the tour group while Toby and I visited the Basilica Cistern.
The Cistern was amazing, and I imagine it’s one of the most unique things I will ever see. It is essentially an ancient water storage facility, and I’m sure the 6th century bureaucrats and engineers and workmen who put it together would be flummoxed by the idea of tourists paying to go and see it, but it really is brilliant. Horror movie material. They have coloured lights playing in the water and music on, so they have worked hard to make it as interesting as possible. After the Cistern we headed back to the hotel via a mini market that was the miniest market ever: no bread, no fruit, nothing. Not sure what the point of the market was, although they did sell flour to make bread. We bought water and half a dozen muesli bars to stock up for the train trip, and then went to Starbucks so Toby could have internet time and I could have journal time in a smoke-free environment. (Yes, we go to Starbucks when we are in foreign countries; but sometimes all you want is a cup of tea, minus the cigarette smoke. So shoot us.) We went to the spice bazaar once we were feeling refreshed, although the rain and number of people just got on my nerves so it wasn’t the best experience. I did love the neat pyramids of powdered spices, and the hanging herbs and blocks of Turkish delight with pistachios embedded in them. We didn’t try anything as we didn’t want the pressure to buy, but it was an interesting thing to see.
We had an early dinner at the same kebab place Jen had taken us to the night before, since we were in the area and knew it was cheap and edible. Back at the hotel, the group re-joined and we were loaded into a mini van and driven across the bridge to the ferry terminal. It took about 20 minutes for the ferry to get to the train station, which I spent not thinking about all the ferry disasters in Turkey you hear on the news. It was a nice way to see the lights of Istanbul though. We had a long wait at the train station, but I guess when you are transporting 12 people you need to make allowances in case something comes up. We had a good local beer in the restaurant at the station while we were waiting, and learnt how to say ‘cheers’. All our luggage was piled along a wall and at one point a homeless lady came over and started pulling out the bags that were in a particular corner so she could set up her bed for the night. She had a careful routine for getting ready, including putting her scarf on. Although Istanbul clearly had plenty of poor people, it was the first sign I’d seen of actual homelessness; everyone else on the street was always busy and working, trying to sell something even if it was only to stand on their scales and pay for the privilege.
The train was quite nice and new; our cabin had 2 bunk beds and a wash basin, plus a fridge with free chocolate. Mmmm. We spent the first hour of the trip in the dining car, drinking beer and playing magnetic Scrabble with a couple of our fellow Aussies (I won), before retiring to our cabin. I didn’t sleep well and wished I brought ear also didn’t sleep well but he put it down to the cigarette smoke coming through the vents in the ceiling onto his face. Yuck. We ended up sharing a single bunk, and amazingly we both slept better after that.
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