So many stories, so little time...
The day after I arrived at Istanbul, we rented a car (as chance would have it, a Ford Escort) and drove off to Ankara.
The most interesting thing that I noticed is that Turkey is a lot richer than I had suspected. The highways and roads are impeccable, just like in Europe. Construction is going on everywhere, like the country is in economic boom.
Actually, if it weren't for the heat, exotic architecture (including a mosque around every street corner) and the Turks themselves, this country reminds me quite a bit of France.
Not much to report on the 5 hour drive to Ankara. Rolling hills, mostly, although I passed out and drooled for part of the trip so maybe I missed something.
Once in Ankara, we promptly got lost. It's not too difficult considering the size of the city and the complete lack of street signs. I ended up having to get a cab so that Leila could follow us to the hotel.
At the hotel, there was a major political convention of some sort. There were cars, news crews and bodyguards everwhere around the front entrance. Since we didn't know where to park, the plan was for Leila to drive around the block once while I asked inside.
This didn't work according to plan.
Leila got lost. And I had the money and the fax with the name of the hotel. So she had no idea where to go. Luckily, she had a phone card and was able to call our travel agency for the name of the hotel. One hour later, she made it to the hotel, at which point I began to recover from my ulcer.
Not much to say about Ankara itself. We ate well and went to a local park, which was nice.
The next day we drove from Ankara to Urgup, in the heart of Cappadocia. This is a small but historically and visually very rich area in central Anatolia.
The following day (yesterday), we visited the valley of Goreme. Absolutely incredible. There are dozens of early Christian churches carved into volcanic shaped rock formations. These landscapes, surrealistic to begin with, are only made more interesting by the addition of these elaborate carvings and dwellings.
Later that afternoon, we visited several other sites of similar
tradition. Back in Urgup, where there are also dwellings carved into the rocks of one of the principal hills, we decided to climb to the top.
We were met on our journey there by a band of very eager-to-help Turkish kids. They led the way up. At one point, they took us into a passageway where there was the opening of a "secret tunnel."
It was dark, so they asked us if we had matches. We didn't. One of the kids did, but his match wasn't working, so he ran off somewhere to get more.
Impatient, one of the other kids motioned for us to take his hand so we could follow him. Apparently, he know the place well enough without matches.
I figured it'd be a quick, easy passage to the other side. It wasn't. In complete, total darkness, I clutched Leila's hand, who was holding the kid with her other hand in a death grip.
There wasn't enough room to stand, so we advanced in crouched position. I had my other hand covering my head to avoid knocking myself out on the hard rock.
We walked and walked, and Leila and I were so nervous that we both started sweating, despite the cool cavernous air. Part of it was the strain of walking forward bent over through the elaborate twists and turns and ups and downs of the passage without being able to see a thing, of course, but I think most of it had to do with our growing apprehension.
Many thoughts ran through our heads. What if the kid left us? There was no way we could get back. We had no idea if there was only one passage or many branching out. Also, many of the caves we had seen earlier had holes and pits deep enough that you couldn't see the bottom.
Worse, what if this was a trap for idiotic, naively trusting tourists like us? There could be a couple big guys waiting for us in one of the larger chambers with some big sticks, ready to rob us of our money and possesions...
Improbable, perhaps, but you have to realize that after a few minutes of being led down twisting corridors in the dark with absolutely no idea where we were or how to get back does not inspire much confidence. Like I said, we were sweating.
Finally, though, we saw daylight, and emerged on the other side of the hill to a nice panoramic view of the city. As relieved as I was to finally see the light again, my heart sank when I saw that the only way back to civilization was back through the tunnel. The only other way down was to scale the cliff below us.
Cursing, we scraped back through the passageway. Amazingly, I didn't re-sprain my ankle along the way, deftly avoiding loose rocks and managing the uneven terrain with adrenalin-filled skill.
When we got out and the kids asked us for money, we were so relieved to be back in control of our destiny again that we happily forked over much more cash than warranted. I suppose this is an old trick for them.
We did some more exploring, going up another big hill with many abandoned houses and ruins on the way. We also met another Turkish kid that tried to become our de-facto guide. When he scared the hell out of both of us by leading us next to a rabid dog related to Cujo, we paid him off and ditched him. I am now wary of all Turks under three feet
tall.
This morning, we visited the underground city of Kaymakli. Again, an unbelievable experience. Originally created by the Hittites (and later by persecuted Christians and Byzantines), these complex Swiss-cheese like network of caves and tunnels dug from the rock go down more than
eight stories from the surface.
There are hundreds (if not thousands) of rooms and passageways, with interconnecting tunnels and windows throughout. Although only about 10% of the city has been excavated, it is a huge complex already and one
could easily get lost.
Part of the fun, of course, was in the descents and ascents using narrow passageways about four feet high. Both Leila and I had to stoop down completely to go from one level to the next.
Our guide expressed with some amusement how a lot of American tourists simply could not visit these caves. No big-butts allowed!
After Kaymakli, we drove south to Nigde. Close to the city is a remote monastery that we had read about. On a dirt leading there, we passed a large truck that sent a rock into our windshield and cracked it. Damn.
The monastery itself was not particularly spectacular (I say this after having been spoiled at Goreme and other places--had I seen it a week ago I would have been blow away.)
Trouble is, it was kind of creepy. There were human bones still in some of the excavated graves, and the feeling wasn't good. Probably haunted.
Leila was particularly uncomfortable. At one point I asked her to go to one of the corner of the rooms so that I could take a picture (there was some good sunlight coming through the rock-cut window and entryway), and as she was walking there a cloud passed over the sun. This caused an immediate darkening of the already creepy room (and even more disturbing corner, which had dark cracks leading to God-knows-where), and she panicked and refused to go to the corner.
I made fun of her and went myself, but I can't say that I was
altogether comfortable myself. We were happy to get away.
When we rented the car in Istanbul, they made sure to tell us that if we got into any accident with the car we needed a police report so that we wouldn't have to pay anything. There was no police in the little village by the monastery, so we drove a few miles to Nigde (which, appropriately, means 'nowhere' in Russian) and found the police station.
I was stopped by a machine gun carrying guard at the entrance, and escorted inside through a metal detector. It was a dark, desolate and unhappy building, and it wasn't long before thoughts of the movie Midnight Express started running through my head.
After five minutes with six or so Turkish policemen, we all came to the realization that none of us had any idea what the other was talking about. I made signs to make a telephone call, so that I could call the rental agency and they could explain the situation and translate.
First I went with a cop and we bought a phone card. I called the agency and they explained the situation to him. We walked back to the station and he talked to the sour chief. He was upset, and he wrote his phone number down.
The cop and I went back out in the street so that we could call the agency and ask them to talk to the chief at the number he provided.
We came back in, and the phone rang. The chief talked to the agency. Quite animated. Yelling, sometimes. Not a happy guy, this one, and I was happy not to be a criminal.
After, I talked to the agency and it turns out the cops didn't want to write a report because the car was no longer at the "scene of the crime." Never mind the fact that the crime took place in the middle of a dirt road in the middle of nowhere.
So we wasted over and hour there, and ended up driving back to Urgup. The car rental agency there (whith whom we had been talking) was quite nice and they upgraded us to a better car (a Renault Clio) free of charge. Nice people.
Tomorrow, we're off to the south of Turkey and the Mediterranean!
Cheers,
Gabriel
