from beyond the tarmac
It’s Ramadan in Istanbul and the streets are busy. Around the Blue Mosque there is a carnival atmosphere once the sun drops behind the Bosphorus, kids run and scream, families sit in circles munching Baklava, clusters of men chuff their Turkish cigarettes and sip chai. All versions of the Hijab are in evidence here, from the full body coverage black burqa to the simple silk scarf whipped casually around the hair.
By day it’s hanger, on a massive scale. The pressure of so much emptiness in so many stomachs hangs heavy over the city. Minor traffic run ins flare into massive blistering arguments with livid gesticulations and unbridled fury. Mothers abuse daughters, fathers yell at sons, people generally act crazy.
Ramadan, however, does not apply to me…
By the way, snacks aside, it is without a doubt an incredible city, 15 million people swarm on the three shores, trams wing past, cars honk and all this happens between some of the most sublime architecture. History is literally underfoot.
Cappadocia
Deep in the center of Turkey lies Cappadocia.
Once home to the Hittites and before them the Proto-Hittites, these peoples made much use of the strange rock formations that fill this region.
Like nothing else I’ve ever seen, the place is full of dwellings literally carved out of the rock, magical little sandstone chimneys peek out everywhere.
They even dug an underground city and when invaded, would retreat to a troglodyte lifestyle, able to survive deep within the earth for up to 7 months, defending their cave world with a selection of tricky rocklice maneuvers which included holes drilled into ceilings in order to pour hot oil on would be conquerors.
I walked the Ilhara valley here. It’s a decent trek - 4.5 hours, surrounded by huge rock faces with ancient churches carved into them, it has a river running down the center and is full of poplar
trees and wild grape vines… Walking through the trees here, I heard a quiet scuffling in the undergrowth. ‘What the heck was that?’ I thought, something big enough to make a racket. Suddenly I made out what it was - a tortoise - plundering through the undergrowth like a tank. Wow. Never seen one of those in the wild before… I did not take his pic, he seemed kind of camera shy.
Later, I’d reached the end and was scuffling around for a cave to sleep in (I’m getting my intrepid on again) when i ran into a french couple and their cracked Australian mate. They were on that same tip so we
discovered an amzing (pics to follow) ancient church with multiple rooms carved into the rock face. We got set up and went for a dip as the sun set.
When we returned it was dark and we started to ready the camp station.
Suddenly out of nowhere appeared two very angry TUrkish fellows - “NO
CAMPING!” One screamed “NO CAMPING!”
He was very irate and frenchy tried to cool his jets and talk him down
but that didn’t get us anywhere at all. After 45 minutes of frustrated turkish/french/english debate i finally pitched in and said we ought to do what he said as it wasn’t going anywhere.
So, we trooped down to this guys zone about 15 minutes up the valley and he offered us his lawn for camping. Without much time we were all suddenly getting on like crazy. He lit a fire, showed us his gun, and
we feasted on a huge plate of honey fresh from his hives. Later we chowed down on fresh corn, tomatoes and spuds all from his garden, smiles and general relief all round.
Without a tent I was relegated to my sleeping bag under a sort of leaf overhang canopy they had built. The ground was like a plank of uneven wood, solid as hell and extremely dusty.
I lay there choking in it for a while, feeling my hips and bony shoulders pressing into the earth. I stared up at the stars. I watched the fire haze out into ashes.
It was a long time before I drifted off and when sleep came it was fleeting and interrupted, with vivid dreams.
I woke to rain and had to stuff my bag away with great haste… Then
the mornin was spent hovering a shack type dwelling eating bread and
eggs, drinking tea and making gags with these kooky turks who
spoke bugger all english.
Twas quite the little adventure indeed…
Onwards to Syria
