The Other Side

Day 29 & 30, Tuesday 16th & Wednesday 17th September 2008 (Al)

After 3.5 weeks, we suddenly only have 2 days left in Turkey. This hit home yesterday when we made our way out to the Otogar (bus station) to purchase our tickets to Bucharest. Anyway, back to today – have to make the most of it!

We firstly went to the Aya Sofya, the multi-purpose venue opposite the blue mosque. I call it multi-purpose as it was initially a Byzantine cathedral built in the sixth century (amazing) by Emperor Justinian, then converted to a mosque in 1453 following the Ottoman conquest of Constantinople, and is now a museum of sorts, secularised by Ataturk.

Night view

The dome is huge and a great architectural feat with the support columns built into the walls. Apparently there is always scaffolding blocking the view due to on-going restoration work.

It is certainly beautiful, and various influences are obvious. Amazingly, instead of destroying the Byzantine mosaics adorning the walls, the Ottomans plastered over them in order to paint their own designs. This actually protected the mosaics more or less, and several have been uncovered. So much of the plaster remains that you wonder how many others are still undiscovered.

Upon getting back out into the hot sun, we immediately decided to head underground and visit the nearby Basillica Cistern (water tank) – once again built under Byzantine Emperor Justinian’s reign. It fell into disuse and was forgotten over the centuries until some authorities spoke with locals who were lowering buckets into the darkness beneath their homes and pulling out water – and sometimes fish. What a find this would have been – 12 rows of 28 columns, each 9 metres high, spread over 143m x 65m area. Despite the signs warning of the dangers of slipping on the wet path we saw one woman fall – ouch…

Needing something different, we caught the tram to the Grand Bazaar, expecting to find a bargain and some entertaining sales people. We found both! One thing to note as a lesson for any Turkish sales people reading (I’m sure there’s a few): whilst calling some a lady is positive, yelling “excuse me lady!” repeatedly to get someone to turn around and look at what you are holding is not the best approach. We entered with a sense of humour though, and enjoyed most exchanges with the friendly salesmen.

Clothes, jewellery, lights, ceramics, nargileh, coffee sets, carpets, antiques, cushion covers, backgammon sets – there were stores for nearly everything. We stopped to look at some ceramics and couldn’t walk away, not because the salesman was pushy or clever as such, we just loved what was on offer. We eventually decided on 4 decorative tiles and a small ring-shaped jug based on an old Hittite design.

Upon wandering outside, we came across a button store (apologies to any button-phobics out there)

And also came across more of Turkey’s freaky-looking child mannequins, in shiny suits this time

We walked back to our hostel – feet pretty sore by this stage – to relax before another quick visit to the Ramazan night market. Cathy enjoyed a baked potato this time:

Our final day started with exotic spices, local foods and delicious delicacies in mind – and that’s exactly what the Spice Bazaar delivered. We bought a bag of pistachio turkish delight (lokum) which neither of us had thought we liked until trying it a few weeks back in Selcuk and being converted.

Various types of tea including “Love Tea” – believed to be Love’s tea of choice

Oooh – spicey

Not sure what these are but they look cool

I had a great apple from one stall (apples are called “Elmas” here – reminds me to say hi Grandma!) whilst Cathy had a tasty nectarine/peach/fruit thing. Really enjoyed wandering through the bazaar…

On the way back it was time to visit the Blue Mosque which we had passed so many times.

Buying tickets to get in was quick, but the queue slowed down at the shoe-removing station. Other men wearing shorts had to buy a scarf to wear as a sarong. I was prepared to do the same but wasn’t asked to – my baggy bball shorts worn low made them look like three quarter pants – felt like a Mentos moment. Inside was amazing in size, scale and the sheer number of tiles adorning the walls.

Then, that was it. We grabbed our luggage, got a taxi to the otogar, had one last (overly-salty) kebab and began an ordeal that was finding the right bus and taking it to Bucharest. That’s for next time!

Day 28, Monday 15th September 2008 (half and half)

(Cath begins)

Excuse me as I start with a whinge. Using Fez Bus (the hop-on, hop-off circuit) has been a good, stress-free way to get around Turkey, but the overnight trip from Goreme back to Istanbul was almost enough in itself to convince us that public buses might be a better way to go. Our bus stopped almost hourly, the airconditioning had only two settings – full-blast and completely off, so the onboard temperature never dropped below 30 degrees - and the driver got lost and drove us in circles around Ankara for an hour and a half.

When it was time for him to swap with another driver (at 3am), he had a shouting conversation with someone outside the bus and turned all the lights on. And whenever we pulled up at a service station, the public buses parked nearby silently taunted us with their bigger, cushier seats, screens showing movies or GPS maps, and soft lighting. Maybe we were spoilt by the overnight buses in South America, which were more like what we imagine business class on a plane to be. Fez was economy without the high head rests, food, entertainment, and barely detectable movement (I’m not sure what would be less conducive to sleep – going over potholes, or our driver’s method of swerving around them at the last minute). But we survived.

We arrived in Istanbul just before 6am, and had to delay our much-needed nap until our room was ready for us to check in, so we wandered the neighbourhood and had some internet time. Then, showered and napped, we were ready to head out and be tourists again. 

Topkapi Palace – the home of the Ottoman sultans – was a sprawling complex with lots to see, but in our post-nap state we didn’t check how much cash we had and so nearly missed out on the highlight, seeing inside the harem:

Entry tickets to the overall palace grounds, 40 lira - check.

Entry tickets to the harem, 30 lira – oh, we only have 27 lira with us. And it closes in half an hour. 

Manning the ticket office was a stickler-for-the-rules guard who sadly wouldn’t give us a discount (how rude) or accept our credit cards. Manning the cafe nearby was a helpful English-speaking guy who couldn’t accept cards either, but directed us to the gift shop, and explained that we couldn’t leave the palace and go to an ATM without paying for another entry ticket to get back in. Manning the gift shop was a partially helpful woman who had an EFTPOS machine, but wouldn’t let us buy something small and get cash out. She directed us to ‘the restaurant in the last courtyard’, which took some deciphering, but after a mad rush to the far side of the palace grounds and a desperate search to locate a single staff member in the maze-like restaurant building, a guy in a suit at a desk saying ‘CHANGE’ accepted the spare 20 Euro note we happened to have with us (thanks Marilyn!) and gave us what we needed.

It was all for this – the living quarters of the sultan, his wives, his ‘favourites’, and their children:

Almost every surface was ornately tiled (or occasionally painted in European style), but I imagine there would also have been a lot of plush cushions back in the day.

We picked up some Ottoman-style tiles like these at the Grand Bazaar later.

The rest of the palace was interesting to explore, especially the Treasury (with an 86 carat diamond and the emerald-studded ‘Topkapi Dagger’), and the palace’s collection of sacred relics, including the rod Moses used to part the Red Sea and, more creepily, St John the Baptist’s arm and skull, each protected by a golden casing. There were also further samples of Mohammed’s holy beard on display, with a background soundtrack of what we thought was some recorded chanting – we were startled to come around a corner and find a man sitting at a desk singing verses from the Koran into a microphone.

(Al takes over)

Later that evening, we wandered through the lively Ramazan night market held in the spot where the Hippodrome (chariot racing track in Roman times) was, just next to the Blue Mosque now. I read that this was where the Byzantine masses might sometimes overthrow the emperor, during the riots that broke out if a race went the wrong way – sort of like what would happen if Collingwood won the flag. The Egyptian obelisk here, brought from Luxor around 5AD I think, is actually the oldest historical monument in Istanbul (~2000BC). Cut from a single piece of stone, weighing 40 tonnes, it was amazing that people managed to erect it twice such a long time ago…

With lots of families around for the first meal to break the fast after sundown, the market had festive voices, bright lights, inviting smells from the baked potato vendors and kebaberies, and the sight of toffee lolly pops made on the spot, which was too much for some to resist!

Later that night, we finally met up with my mate Oz from work. After some cheesy photos (below) we wandered through Sultanahmet looking for a casual bar. We found one where we could sit outside on bean bag chairs which was cool, and Oz ordered an apple-flavoured nargileh (water pipe) for us to try. We tried not to cough and splutter too much, with limited success.

Oz then took us on an impromptu midnight walking tour of the area along the Golden Horn, up towards Galata bridge (below) and the Spice Bazaar, where we plan to do some browsing later. We then zig-zagged our way back through the streets to our hostel, which didn’t feel unsafe at all - it was actually a lot of fun wandering around with hardly another person in sight, and Oz’s Turkish came in handy for asking directions. After saying our goodbyes, we went to bed around 2am, finishing the day in a much better mood than we started it!

Day 27, Sunday 14th September 2008 (Cath)

After spending a fortnight’s budget on two hours of ballooning yesterday, we decided to have a ‘free day’ today. A free day for us means spending money on nothing except accommodation, food and water (and transport only if absolutely necessary). A ‘rest day’, by comparison, is a day off from sightseeing – we use those days to plan our next movements, nap, write this blog, nap, keep in touch with people at home (Happy Birthday Marilyn!), nap, etc.

So on this free day, we walked (free) to the UNESCO-listed Goreme Open Air Museum (unfortunately not free). Instead of paying to see yet more cave church frescoes, we scrambled up some nearby rocks and saw some lower-quality frescoes and cave rooms. And you guessed it, that was free.

Pottery tree – not sure if it is for drying or displaying purposes

I lost Al for a minute when he wandered off, but followed the signs and soon found him safely nearby:

As I was only wearing thongs (not because I was scared of heights or anything), and the volcanic tuff is so gravelly and slippery, I stopped trying to follow Al after my first attempt left me stuck halfway up and halfway down one of these cones, trying not to fall and break the camera. The only means of escape was to slide, so my brown Havaianas turned light grey. The views were still acceptable from the bottom, and from time to time I could still spot the little speck which was Al:

Some less well preserved frescoes, about sixty metres outside the national park boundary. I like how the outline of the cave on the left mirrors the outline of the rocks in the distance:

This is where we did most of our scrambling – Al climbed to the top, which apparently had great views in every direction. Unfortunately for the rest of us, I was still holding the camera:

Actually, it was unfortunate for Al too, because he ended up coming back down just to grab the camera, and then climbing up again to take this shot, looking towards the rock castle at Uchisar:

We finished off this climb with an icy pole (me) and Double Choc Magnum (Al, with his newly established one-a-day habit). It’s lucky we’re going through an active phase.

The rest of the day was basically packing up in time for the overnight bus to Istanbul, departing at 7.30pm. I snuck out quickly at 7.10pm to buy a chicken doner kebap and hot chips for us to share on the bus – noice!

Day 26, Saturday 13th September 2008 (Al)

What a day this was! It began early with a 5.30am pick-up and 2 minute drive to the Kapadokya Balloons (KB) HQ. We joined about 100 other weary but excited tourists of varying ages and nationalities for a cup of tea and a biscuit during check in.

11 of us piled into a mini-van and a driver of German descent asked us “has anyone told you what’s going on?”. Other than that we should get into mini-van A nobody had, and we replied as such in unison. His somewhat rehearsed reply was “we’re going ballooning!” (insert groan here). Unlike other ballooning companies that apparently take off from the same place each day, KB judges the weather conditions and chooses a different spot each day. Feeling comfortable about our choice of companies, we drove for 15 mins to an empty set of paddocks west of town where we received a briefing (“stay in the basket at all times”) whilst the balloons were fired up:

KB had 3 pilots doing the longer ballooning itinerary that we did – Lars, his wife Kaili (who runs the company) and their nephew Mike (our captain – imagine a British accent). Soon enough we lifted gently off the ground with Mike explaining that we shouldn’t feel any sensation of movement as “we are the wind”. Mike repeatedly exclaimed throughout that it was perfect conditions that day – clear, sunny, with light surface winds moving in one direction, and slightly stronger atmospheric winds moving in the other (gives him more control over where we go).

The other KB balloons – Mike would be in consistent contact with them, mainly in giving and receiving advice and sharing the occasional joke:

That’s the view out to the town of Uchisar – with a carved out castle in the mountain you can see. The background also has several low lying, extinct volcanoes that once covered the area in volcanic rock, which water and wind then carved out into the numerous canyons you can see all around here. I think these are Pigeon Valley and Love Valley but am not 100% sure:

There were about 33 other balloons out this morning. Some actually do two trips which can be dangerous as conditions generally deteriorate during the morning as stronger winds develop, or take larger baskets with 30 people in them! Ours had a comfortable 11 with plenty of time to see everything…

Whilst the wind controls the balloon’s direction, a good pilot such as Mike can control the vertical movement to within a few centimetres. So, numerous times we would descend into these valleys to below the rock line (first photo). In season (we’d just missed the apricots, unfortunately), he would pick fruit off a tree as a sort of ballooning party trick (as Kaili is demonstrating in the second photo):

As we ascended from the valley near the lookout we had been to each of the two previous days, we were met by a sight we probably will never see again. An elderly local woman was shouting and throwing stones at the balloon! We were not quite in her range although she did have a good arm for her age. Mike radioed Lars and Kaili – apparently she often shouts at the balloons but only Lars had been the target of a stone bombardment until now.

Apparently the woman has some mental issues which is why she lives illegally in a cave out of town – “hard to believe” I reckon everyone was sarcastically thinking. We all felt sorry for the young lad with her as well – but Cathy and I reassured ourselves that he was perhaps being groomed to take over the family business of balloon shouting and stone throwing – “one day son, you will fulfill your destiny and destroy these balloons!”. Mike positioned the balloon maybe 20m above her and tried to tip some of his bottled water on her, but missed…

We could see our house from up there (Shoestring Cave Pension):

Me enjoying the view downwards (followed by what you see when you look down, in this case vineyards), and then looking up a valley to the other balloons:

After easing down over some vineyards, Mike landed the balloon (with some guidance from the crew) on the trailer of the truck (first photo). One of the other baskets was decorated and used as the backdrop for a celebratory drinks (pictured with Lars and Kaili) – a cocktail of champagne and cherry juice was on offer which, to me, pretty much tasted like champagne. Last photo is Cath, Mike and yours truly.

Overall, it was an amazing experience that we’ll never forget. Cathy is generally not good with heights (and that’s an understatement) but was completely fine – so that shouldn’t hold anyone back from trying it. If our budget holds up despite the unplanned Turkish carpet purchase, we’d very much like to do it again on this trip. Hmmm… Serengeti perhaps?

The rest of the day was spent relaxing, although we never took the nap we were anticipating considering how early we were up. Even watching the Bledisloe Cup final (the All Blacks beat the Wallabies) on a dodgy internet connection in the pub in town couldn’t put us to sleep. We were obviously still excited after a memorable morning!

Days 24 & 25, Thursday 11th – Friday 12th September 2008 (Cath)

I tried to have as few preconceptions of Cappadocia as possible, so that the landscape of strange rock formations would still appear as stunning and unusual as I had heard (and seen in photos, but tried to forget) they were.

Maybe I wished too hard to be surprised, though. On the night we arrived, I found myself up on stage in front of nearly two hundred people, trying to belly dance.

The local aniseed-based spirit, raki, actually seemed like a good choice afterwards. The main reason we had taken the risk of audience participation and gone along to this ‘Turkish Night’ was the chance to see, along with some entertaining and energetic folk dancers, the whirling dervishes do their thing (although I’m not sure how smoothly performing at a touristy restaurant fits with their philosophy). The all-you-can-drink alcohol was a bonus, although it was withheld out of respect until after the dervishes had whirled.

As part of the ritual, the right hand reaches for the sky to receive the blessings of heaven, the left downwards to communicate the blessings to the earth. The whirling is their way of relinquishing the earthly life to be reborn in mystical union with God. And it makes them dizzy.

A fairly quiet night at the local bar in Goreme ensued, so we were fit and feeling fresh to start an all-day tour of the region in the morning. As positive and energetic as we felt, however, our guide had us (and most of the bus) off-side by our first stop. She was hilarious – unintentionally. It started with her glib ‘thank you for your understanding’ when she kicked two people off the bus to wait for another one because the company had overbooked.

She then passed a pen and paper around the mini-bus for everyone to write down their names, but the pen ran out halfway through the group. Someone interrupted her spiel to tell her, ‘this pen isn’t working’.

Guide: ‘Yes, it is working’

Passenger: ‘Um, no it isn’t’

Guide: ‘Then how did I write my name?’

Passenger: ‘Because it was working and now it has run out’

Someone else on the bus found a replacement pen, and we arrived at the underground city of Derinkuyu, occupied on and off (mainly by early Christians to escape Roman and then Arab invaders) since at least the 7th century BC. It was fun to explore the tiny, dark tunnels, stretching eight floors down – definitely not a place for claustrophobics, or anyone uncomfortable with having a stranger’s backside in close proximity to one’s face.

We were shown an underground church, which at first glance looked just like any other room, except that it was a bit bigger. Our guide asked ‘how do we know this is the church?’. One of the guys in the group went for the joke, pointed and said ‘because that sign says CHURCH’. Everyone laughed, except the guide, who explained ‘no, this sign was made later, for us’. She then pointed out a cross carved into the wall and looked around suspiciously when everyone kept laughing. Later, in the really low-ceilinged stables area, she asked what kind of animals would have been kept there. This time at least two different people said ‘giraffes?’. ‘No, goats and sheep probably, because they are small’. ‘Ohhh….’.

The network of caves originally had multiple entrances, mainly tunnels leading from houses in the above-ground village of Derinkuyu, where these ladies live.

Next stop was the Ihlara valley, a gorge with a river creating a verdant and shady oasis. It gave us a much-needed break from the heat, and was the scene of the most awkward moment of the day, when our considerate guide asked one of the girls in the group, out of the blue, if she was feeling ok. The girl reassured her she felt fine. Our sensitive guide then said ‘but you look angry’. The girl, surprised, said that she wasn’t. ‘Oh, but you never smile – your face looks like you are angry whenever I look at you’, explained our lovely host. ‘Well, maybe I’m feeling a little bit angry now’, said the girl. ‘I’m just saying the honest thing’, our guide reassured her. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t in the future’, suggested the girl. ‘I’m sorry, I just think it’s good to say what I’m thinking’, said the guide. ‘Well, maybe it’s not always’, offered the girl. Awkward silence followed, as we all moved into a Byzantine cave church to see some frescoes. ‘I apologised already’, insisted the guide, making it all better.

Our guide then set off at a cracking pace, asking us to stick with her, down the riverbank – this was the ‘one hour hike’ in the tour schedule – but we and some others decided to dawdle and enjoy the landscape, at the risk of getting into trouble later.

Lunch was yet another cushioned-platform-over-running-water affair, and here we confirmed our suspicions that our guide was fasting for Ramazan. I would be struggling to be in a better mood than she was if I couldn’t eat or drink in this heat, so we tried to cut her some slack. What was most amazing, really, was that we didn’t notice any similar short temper or irritability in a single other Turkish person during the two weeks of Ramazan we spent in the country (except when we saw two taxis collide in Istanbul – the drivers didn’t hold back). In general, people here have been extremely laid back and have shown a great sense of humour.

Further along the river, we explored the 13th century Selime monastery, another rock-cut creation, and apparently where one of the Tatooine scenes in Star Wars was filmed.

When we’d finished climbing through the caves, we treated ourselves to a nice dinner with dessert in Goreme (reheated frozen chocolate cake has never tasted so good), then walked back to our cave pension to have a shower in our cave bathroom and sleep in our cave room.