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| 11 July | Bus to Trabzon | US$1=44,600 Turkish Lire |  |
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Crossing the border here was not as easy as others I have seen. First of all, the gate was all the way out of town. I had plenty (and how!) of Rials leftover, so I just took a taxi to the border. The friendly keep of the hotel flagged one down for me and got me the going rate without me even asking. I'm going to miss this place I think... Once the taxi arrived at the gate, however, I was still a long way from the border post. There was supposed to be some sort of taxis or bus that would take you through the complex, but I saw no such thing, so I just walked. Up. Up. And up some more. The border was at the end of the valley, perched up on the top between the formidable cliffs on either side. It was rather confusing where to go, but I made my way without difficulty. The border had not opened yet when I reached the top, so I had some waiting to do. The border was eerily empty, except for an old bus full of what appeared to be sleeping people.
The bank opened at 8:00, so I went to change some dollars into Turkish Lire. I (wrongly) figured that I would have difficulty changing Rials into hard cash on the other side of the border, so I would rather get some Lire before I crossed. What was I thinking? At the counter, I asked what the rate was for Turkish Lire, showing him a US$50. The man quotes me a rate, and I would swear he said "Lire". The rate he quoted was very bad, but I needed cash. We go through the elaborate ritual, and I gave him my money. But though the window he slides, not some new currency I haven't seen before, but the familiar Iranian Rials! No! I wanted Lire. It turned out that the guy had actually said Rial before. I misheard him, he misheard me. "This is Iran, no Lire!" he shouts. Well you are at the border. Give me my dollars back. "No, go down to Bazargan, open market has Lire." I'm was not going to give up that easily, so I stood there blocking the window until he finally told me to come around inside and sit down. I thought he was going to play the waiting game, hoping I'd give up. So my next step was to sit back, relax, and pull out my journal, busily jotting away. He quickly started making calls, called me over, and handed me my US$50 back. When customs opened, I entered the building. It was rather like an airport, very efficient. A woman asked me to open my backpack, quickly rifled through it, and zipped it back up. She directed me then through a curtain and down the hall. At the end of the long hallway (monitored with cameras along the ceiling), I found another guard sitting in front of a computer by a locked steel door. I handed over my passport, and after checking with his computer, the guard gives me my exit stamp. This had been easy enough. After stamping me out, the customs guard then puts on a fake concerned expression. He tells me I can't leave. I have a problem with my visa, and can only return to Pakistan. At first, I thought he meant I couldn't get a Turkish visa here. I panicked, thinking I would have to go through Pakistan again or to Tehran to get a visa. Then I realized he was talking about my Iran visa. He spoke practically no English, and my Farsi wasn't sufficient to understand him at first. Then he gathered his words, pointed to the Farsi numbers on my visa extension, and told me that they said "No Turkey". It took me a moment, then I realized he was angling for baksheesh. Yeah right bastard. He wouldn't back down, and the gate was still locked, so I sat down on the bench nearby and waited until others come. Eventually, a Turkish family approached, and he had to unlock the door for them. Another guard had meanwhile also approached and was watching me curiously, indicating I should go. The first one didn't see me until I was on top of him and tried to bar my way at the last minute, but I just knocked him aside and went through. Once through the door, he couldn't do a thing. His curses followed me as I ran down the hall. It was crazy on the other side. There was a huge room completely full of people, crates, bags. I'm sure I saw a chicken or something moving around. Where did they come from? I was the first person through Iran customs this morning. It seems like they must have spent the night here, as the queue to enter Turkey was already long. A couple friendly Turks called me to the front of the queue to practice their English. Customs here was a little window with about four or five Turkish police sitting in a small room behind it. Just as my new friends and I reached the window, however, the guards decided to go on a cigarette break. They shut the window, leaned back in their chairs, and all lit up, puffing away. 45 minutes later, as the grumblings in the crowd grew louder, the window finally opens again and they start letting people pass. Cigarette breaks are no small thing here! Getting a visa was easy here. I simply paid my US$8 (£5 sterling) and I was in. On the other side, I'm faced with a daunting prospect. Once again, the nearest town is a hazy blur in the distance. And I have no Turkish Lire. The bank had no money (though I suspected foul play as I watched eyes speak from behind me), so I had to change with a black market dealer at an horrible rate (40,000) just so I could get to Dogubeyezit. A taxi driver was hassling me this entire time. The honorable gentleman assured me that, of course, there was no bus into town. But he would give me a very good price and take me there for just US$10 (no Lire). After politely declining this generous offer for the tenth time, I became more diplomatic. I simply told him to "Fuck off". Next to the bus compound, I found a minibus that would get me there. I don't know the prices here, and the 100,000 Lire I paid seemed like highway robbery, but I watched others and saw them paying something similar. The ride into Dogubeyezit was incredible, with magnificent views of Mt. Ararat along the way. It was very strange all of the sudden. I had one of those moments when I suddenly woke up and realized what I was doing. Here I was, crossing from Iran into Turkey, easily getting around, passing by a mountain I had read about as a child in the Bible, and until that moment, it really didn't strike me as unusual. Just another day in the life... In Dogubeyezit, I had another shock waiting for me. Walking down the street, I almost felt like I was home. The "English" alphabet was the only writing I could see. There were no hieroglyphics. There were no strange scrawlings that I could never tell if they were writing or art. Or both. The town was wall to wall shops! Food, clothes, cigarettes (everyone smokes here), fruit, everything. After India, Pakistan, Iran, I had almost gotten used to seeing only one shop, then many closed buildings, then another shop. This was a town I could understand. They still spoke a foreign language, but at least I could read it! I needed to change some more money, so I quickly found a shop to switch another US$100 at 44,350. Turkey seems rather expensive. As an afterthought, I also got rid of my remaining Rials. I found an absolutely lousy rate, and I lost almost US$20 in the deal, but since I've found no one else to change with, this looked like my last chance to use the money rather than just carry it. At the same shop, I also bought a bus ticket to Erzerum for 400,000. Turkey's very expensive. My next stop was to purchase a veritable feast: A loaf of excellent French bread and yogurt for protein. I then walked down the street to a convenient wall and sat and ate while watching the mountain. It didn't move. Noah's docking point. Very impressive.
As I sat and ate, I started noticing the women here. I've spent the last few months in Muslim, Hindu, and Buddhist areas where the women in general cover themselves in long flowing capes of one sort or another. The women here dress in a mix of western and middle eastern styles. I still saw chadors being worn, but I also saw short sleeved blouses, jeans, and even a tanktop on one young lady. The men were likewise mixed in their attire. After so long, the sight of long hair, a bare arm, the curve of a breast, it drove me quite crazy. I kept thinking every woman was gorgeous. I saw one woman walk down the street, I thought she was a goddess descended to earth because of her bare neck. Then I noticed she was truly of godlike proportions, in weight that is... No wonder so many Indians, Indonesians, etc. act as they do. It is no excuse, but if 4 or 5 months did it to me, what would a lifetime do? Rather interesting. My bus left right on time, which was growing less remarkable with the further west I went. But guess what? It was air conditioned! It was also only 1/4 full, so I stretched out. On the bus, I met a Turkish guy, a soldier on leave and going home. He doesn't speak a word of English, but we still had an interesting conversation, using much sign language and partial words. He was going to Ordu, so we were going the same way after Erzerum. At the short rest stop in Agri, I looked over the newspapers, usually a very revealing display of what a culture was like. They were all full of half-naked, bikinied women. Hm. I saw pictures showing Istanbul was under water now, with severe flooding. Across the country, the high temperatures don't pass 30° C much anywhere. Nice and cool. The soldier from the bus offered me a drink. I had no idea what it could be, but it would have been rude to refuse. I nearly choked on the stuff. It tasted quite like sour milk, including the lumps. I later found out it was 'ayran, a popular drink made of yogurt and water. Not for me. For the rest of the way to Erzerum, we passed through some magical countryside. It looked like an ancient battle must have taken place at this site. Rolling hills, streams, spears of rock poking through the grass on the hill tops, the ridges. It appeared as if every hill had a crown, every ridge was a fortress. Caves riddled the area. And the bus passed quietly through this terrain, unnoticed by the forts above. In Erzerum, the soldier and I have a wait until our bus leaves. We took a walk into town and found a café in the park. I practiced Turkish. He was interested to teach. Too much though, I should have written more down. Looking around the park, the feeling of being home was even stronger. True, a large number women were wearing the chador, but even more are in jeans and blouses, holding hands with their boyfriends, husbands. The café could be anywhere in Europe. It was very ordinary. Back at terminal, we grabbed a quick kebab. It was similar, but much better than chelo kebab. The soldier again bought me some 'ayran. I choke it down as fast as I can. Ugh. Sometimes, hospitality can be a trial... Again, the bus leaves on time, will wonders never cease. Unfortunately, the sun set soon after we left. Too bad, as the journey looked like it would be breathtaking in daylight. Sheer canyon walls, gorges, rivers. I wished I could really see it all. Oh well. The bus arrived in Trabzon at about 3:45. It was much too late to find an hotel and the terminal was relatively clean and empty. I'll just stay here until morning, then see what the day brings. |
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| 12 July | Trabzon | |
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I called the folks about 4:00 my time, 9:00 theirs. They hadn't gotten my letter yet, so Mom broke down when I told her I'd be home for Xmas. Dad also happy about Africa. They had been a bit worried it seems, with no contact from me and many problems going on in this part of the world. Mom was planning for 17 August, though, so I'll have to reorganize my time here and make Istanbul last instead of after Capadocia. It shouldn't be a problem. The phone cut off after 10 minutes, I guess one must pay at this end as well. I'll call back in a few days to give them time to organize. At least they know I'm safe.
At 6:00, I walked into town and found the hotels with the help of a friendly Turk who only spoke German. They were all still closed for the night, so I bought some delicious scalding hot bread at a bakery and sat in the park, munching away. At 7:00, I tried again. The Hotel Hurza was full, but the friendly manager directed me to Hotel Erzerum. That, too, was full, but the friendly manager pointed across the street to Hotel Anil. Each time, the place was getting progressively nicer. At this one, I walked in hesitantly, this must be too much for me. They had a nice clean room with a shower for 400,000L. Ouch, but with my initial Turkish budget in mind, US$30-50, it was OK. It's more than my budget for an entire day for the last few months... Still, that shower felt so good. I decided to take my chances again, and drink the water here. Hopefully, my body's developed a little extra resilience after 6 months in Asia. We'll see in about 2 hours... Now, to check out the beach! What beach, there's none here that I could find. I went to the docks and walked maybe 3-4 km down the shore. I found nice boardwalks, some street cafes, but not a scrap of true beach. Maybe the other way. Anyway, it's dark and windy today, not a good day to lie on the beach. I saw some foreigners today. Lovely blondes wearing shorts and t-shirts, maybe American. They look so completely out of place here. Is that how I seem? Yup. Never made it to lunch, old habits die hard, but a nap happened against my will, I just passed out while reading. I slept for at least 4 hours, waking to the sound of torrential rains. I have plenty of time, so I just sat in, read, and relaxed until dinner. Tomorrow I'll be efficient. Today, I will remain a bum a little longer. Got a rather good meal in the main square, but even though it was a lot of food, it didn't seem enough. After dinner, I walked down to the shore to watch the beautiful sunset, but it only reminded me of Thailand, and the comparisons were grim. Early to bed dreaming of white flour beaches, limestone cliffs, and black haired beauties. |
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| 13 July | Trabzon | |
"Meanwhile I had succumbed to the worst form of traveller's disease: I had reached saturation point but my appetite for yet more impressions remained. But with the desire to go on making new discoveries came a question - would my perception be up to it, or would I be incapable of taking any more on board." - Nick Danziger, Danziger's Travels.It seems that what I have is a common phenomenon amongst all long term travellers, we just all have different saturation points. I've reached mine. Wandering around town today, I found it very enjoyable just to walk, window shop, stop in at a few mosques and listen to children recite their lessons, wink at any girl who smiled my way (there were a few), and just relax. No siteseeing, no one yelling Hello mister! at me, no staring masses, no one trying to practice their English, in fact no English at all here. A couple months of this and I might even have the energy to go on, but I think it's enough for now. Already going back to my European habits. I sit in the park. Mercedes taxis, women cops (sexy ones at that), wonderful smells from the surrounding restaurants, no blaring horns. Faint music from some cars, so nice. I walk down to watch the sunset again. It is lovely, but then a motorboat goes by, the guy standing in the back steering, and again, I could close my eyes and I'm back on Raileh beach with a longtail boat going by. I can see it so clearly. In the present, the cafe on the water has a live DJ playing Turkish pop music, it's very cool, definitely trousers weather, the Black Sea is calm, and blue-green, not black. For now, sit and listen to the pop drowning out the distant call of the muzzein. |
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| 15 July | Ünye | |
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Turkish men all have very shiny shoes. Go to the park, and the reason is obvious. From spiffy old men manning sparkling artistic shoe shine stands to scruffy little boys with a wooden box and no shoes themselves, the shoe shiners are about one to one with the men! And they're all frustrated beyond bearing by me, wearing sandals or tired old cloth and leather hiking shoes they can't polish! Ha!
I took a big bus today. The bus was full, so at one point, being the only foreigner, they asked if I'd consider sitting up front in the shotgun position so a family could sit together. OK. It was an amazing seat. The bus was practically a 1.5 tier bus, with a toilet downstairs, etc. So up front, where the driver is at road level, the windshield extends high above, curving around us. We were driving along the incredible coastline, with a view as if we were sitting outside. Unobstructed on 3 sides. Very nice. We got to Ünye about 3:30. The guidebook only said it has nice beaches, but that was enough for me. I asked a fellow passenger who lived there to recommend a place to stay. He sends me to the Ürer Hotel, about 500m down the road. Nope, no rooms are available. Along the way, I passed a tourist information office, so I figured I'd drop in and see what they'd say. 10 minutes later, I'm checking into the Otel Burak. Good enough. Out to walk the coast. I went about 3km one way looking for the beaches before finally accepting they're all the other way, about 3-4 km down from where I'm staying. This was not what' I'd hoped for, but at least tomorrow, I can take a swim. I called the folks again. Dad said 20 Sept would maybe be OK for Nairobi, Mom's flying into Istanbul on 3 August, Turkish Air flight 582, at 10:55, and flying out 13 August. I wish she had planned 1 week later. As it is, I don't have time to do the coast, so I'll have to just spend longer in Cappadocia, etc. and then do the coast after she leaves. It means less time in Greece, but that's OK. |
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| 16 July | Ünye | |
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Turkey really is European. Today is Sunday, and most shops are closed. While I was getting some supplies at a store that was open, the shopkeeper asked if I spoke French. Oui, un peu... We ended up talking for well over an hour, entirely en Francais. My vocabulary was limited, but much more than I expected came back to me. For maybe the first time, I was actually holding a real conversation in another language, even if it was neither of our first language! So this is how it feels for everyone else... I've supplemented conversations with French before, but it was interesting to hold a conversation entirely in French. I liked it!
I knew I shouldn't have gone to Thailand. After the Riviera, I could never face swimming in the ocean back home again. After Thailand, nothing I see resembles a beach as I know it. Ünye's famous beaches, "excellent" according to LP, are pitiful in my book. Thin strips of black sand, the highway only 10m away, no shady trees, no character, no women! As it is, I was rather disappointed to say the least. Hey, after Raileh, even Ko Samui seemed plain to me, and that was a far cry better than this. None so miserable as he who has known paradise and lost it... I bought an English-Turkish dictionary to try and learn some more words. As usual, the regional LP book just doesn't cut it. I am hoping to find the Turkey LP in Ankara, plus a phrase book. It will probably not be necessary once I get into the tourist zone in about 3 days, but it would be good to speak as much Turkish as I can cram in. I still want to learn to write in Farsi. This journal would be a good place to start. [In sloppy Farsi]: Maybe I should start today! It could be fun... [much more] [Still in Farsi] Write down what I can remember:
I've learned a little bit on this trip. At least that's one thing to come out of it... What did I say about a good meal? This evening, I went to the Park Restaurant. I didn't care about how much it cost, I just wanted a good meal. Caçik, piliç shish, and not just one, but two Efes beers. Absolutely delicious. The chicken Shish kebab came with chips, tomatoes, hot pepper, rice, even the chips tasted special, not just greasy frites. The chicken was delicately seasoned, well made caçik, let's just say I enjoyed it immensely. I spent a relaxed evening just eating, savoring every bite as I looked out over the water. Afterwards, I strolled down the dock. The water was absolutely teeming with huge jellyfish, some up to 30 cm long. I could see them move about quickly under their own power. Scary. Maybe I'm glad I didn't go swimming today... I've decided to just skip ahead to Ankara. The Black Sea coast is lovely, but the weather's poor, the beaches are not my style, there are not many sites to see (at least within my effort capacity), so it's time to move ahead into tourist country. I'm also looking forward to getting my mail. Hopefully, it'll be a good haul. If not, some people aren't getting a letter for a good long while! |
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| 17 July | Ankara | |
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Don't I remember something about hating Mondays? Yesterday morning, when I tried to leave the hotel, I found the front doors locked and no one around to open them. I waited until 8:30, but no one showed up. Then a fellow guest forced the doors open, and we escaped! Today, once again, the door was locked and I had to get my bus ticket, so this time I forced them.
I decided just to take a bus to Samson, and then decide once I'm there whether to take the night bus to Ankara or another bus to Sinop. After getting my ticket, I went back to the hotel to pack. When I left at 9:00, there was still no one around, although someone had locked the door again. Assholes. I was lucky I was inside when it happened! I left my key, money, and a note behind the reception counter. I then forced the doors open again and went out to catch my bus. That lock isn't much good any more... The air conditioned bus office felt good today. Already the day was rather warm. I was early for my bus, so I slouched in a chair until it was time. The pretty girl who sold me my ticket came over to talk. I was completely shocked at first, but then I remembered what country I'm in. This is certainly not Iran. When the bus reached Samson, I immediately had a taste of things to come. There was a complete mob of touts all yelling at me. "Trabzon!" "Sinop!" "Istanbul!" Oh boy. I hadn't prepared for it, so I panicked and ran into the Ulosoy office to get a ticket straight to Ankara. Unfortunately, there was no night bus, so I had to take one that left here at 1:30 today and arrives in Ankara sometime around 8:00 tonight. It was an interesting ride to Ankara. The land changed from the lush green land near the Black Sea, gradually getting drier, the trees disappearing, until a dry grass landscape stretched as far as I could see. It now looked much more Mediterranean. They served us Pepsi, biscuits, and cakes all the way to Ankara. I thought the bus would arrive at the otagar (bus terminal) in Ankara, with many dolmus I could take to my hotel at Opera Meydani. Instead we went to the Ulusoy terminal, about 2km away. Now what? I went inside to get directions to the nearest dolmus stop/path towards Opera. The people inside were clueless. They just kept telling me they spoke no English. But how much English do you need to understand "Dolmus, Opera Meydani?" They kept thinking I was trying to buy a bus ticket for a town called Opera. I took out my map of Ankara, and pointed to Opera. They nodded, took out a map of Turkey, and asked where I wanted to go. Argh! I finally made one guy understand, and he walked me out to the street and helped me wave down the right dolmus. Luckily a passenger next to me spoke English, as no one seemed to understand my Turkish which, up until now, had seemed adequate. The dolmus didn't go to Opera, but it did pass about 300m away. Fine. I found the "square" easily enough. The brightest sign around was for the Otel Akman, so I went there. It was a pricey place for my budget, but then I saw the room. Wow. There was a TV, a desk table, a wardrobe. The shower had a shower curtain! It was the first I've seen since I left Australia. There were mountains of towels, soap, shampoo, Tpaper! I took a high powered hot shower, played with the flush toilet, opened cupboards, stared at the half naked women prancing around on the music channel on TV, stared down into the square, and simply acted the part of a savage in civilization. |
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| 18 July | Ankara | |
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Time to get my mail! I went to the Merkiz Postane (Central Post Office) and followed the signs to Poste Restante. At the top of the stairs down to the office, an idiot guard kept trying to direct me over to a window to buy stamps. I kept pointing to the sign right next to him, Poste Restante! But he continued to push me towards a window until finally someone repeated what I had been telling him "post restant", pronouncing it differently, and finally he let me pass. But there was no mail for me! What? Mom said they had sent mail here, so I know I should have something. What's up? I'll try again tomorrow, but I'm a little worried, I should have had at least something. And if Steve and Jen didn't write this time, I'll be just a bit upset...
Ankara doesn't impress me so far. It appears a rather dull city. I went out to check other PTT in town just in case it also has a Poste Restante. Nope. I was halfway to embassy territory, so I decided to check into the Irish embassy on the subject of African visas. Problem. After wandering a bit, I decided to ask one of the many police officers I saw on the streets. I first found one who spoke manageable German, then found one who spoke English. There was no sign of it on their map, so he started making calls on my behalf. After 10 minutes, still no luck. The embassy supposedly moved recently and no one knew their new location. In the end, they could only recommend I speak with either the American or British embassies. The American was just around the corner from where I was, so I went there first. There was a large crowd of people pressed up against the gates. At first, I thought some sort of protest was going on, but then I realized that these people were just waiting to speak to the embassy about moving to America. I worked my way up to the front of the gates and stood there until a guard looked at me inquisitively. Oh OK, I flashed the blue passport. Immediately he pulled me past the crowd and let me in. Inside, there were many people arguing with US officials. "I'm sorry sir, you do not have sufficient funds or skills to be eligible." "Well, what should I do?" "Get more money..." Just for curiosity, I first asked them about visa requirements for US citizens to enter Kenya and Tanzania. Nothing had changed. Visas were still required. Then I asked if they could tell me the new location of the Irish embassy, foolishly flashing my Irish passport. Immediately, the man became very rude to me and gave me a suspicious look. "No, we can't." I give up, let Dad find out. Very frustrating day. |
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| 19 July | Ankara | |
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Out for a little sightseeing. I took a walk up to the citadel. Inside the first walls was a very nice park. I just had to sit for a while and once again enjoy the return to Europe, though technically I'm still in Asia. The park was quiet, very well kept, nice flowers, shady benches, and no people. That's what I'm enjoying most of all. For someone like me, the lack of privacy that occurs in Asia is intolerable, though worth it I guess for what is to be experienced there. If only I could have blended in, Asia would have been perfect.
After a cool relaxing few minutes, I continued further in. And it happened. Tourism at its saddest. As I was walking through the narrow streets of the old town (very nice) two old ladies spotted me, ran inside and came out with lace to sell. They proceeded to nag me in English all the way down the street. After climbing along the walls and around the old town some more, dodging the many tourist parasites, I decided to head down and go to the museum if I ran into it. I walked down a lovely narrow street, smelling the flowers and enjoying the quiet. But when I walked around the corner, bam!! I had entered tourist country. The quaint narrow streets were lined with huge tourist buses and the air was filled with the sound of many tongues. I had arrived. The museum was interesting, one of the best in the world supposedly for Hitite relics, but even more interesting to me was watching the hordes of tourists milling about like sheep while their herder/guide moved them about. There were more tourists there than I've seen in one place since, well maybe since Athens, a year ago. There were unusually large numbers (~75%) of French tourists here. Hm. And you could hear the Americans a mile away, and see the Germans even further, with their bright sweatsuits. Many young ladies there were wearing very skimpy clothes. Mm. There were lots of blindingly white limbs exposed by shorts and singlets. I was surprised by my reaction: After so long seeing only locals, and trying to respect local customs by wearing trousers myself, I was offended by how they dressed. I know, I'm a hypocrite to say so, but that just what I felt at the moment. The tourists were dressed completely inappropriately considering how cool it was... Interesting. Then, to complete my completely non-touristy day, I went into the city to search for the Pizza Hut I heard so many French talking about at the museum. No luck, though I found a very nice pedestrian area a couple blocks off the main road that was full of nice cafes, bars, etc. But I wanted Pizza Hut! I was so determined, I went back to the hotel to check the phone book. They only had an old one, so I went to the GPO to check my mail again and to use one there. I still had no mail. Damn. I phoned Mom quickly to check when she sent it, what's there... She told me that it has my checks (to buy more AmEx travellers cheques), plus letters, etc. I guess I'll have to loop back here before going to Istanbul. It's a damn nuisance. And they had no phone book there either. What a frustrating day. I asked back at my hotel where the Ullosoy office was located. Into town again. I found the office, but they don't go to Cappadocia. They gave me the name of a company that does, and I was off again across town. I bought my ticket from Nevtur. They didn't go all the way to Göreme, instead they passed it by and went to Urgup. But I was planning to get off the bus at the turnoff to Göreme and hitchhike. After I got my ticket, I wandered a couple hours again looking for Pizza Hut, then gave up and went back to the hotel again. At dinnertime, I tried one last time. This time, someone told me it was all the way out beyond the embassies, by the Sheraton. You could tell how desperate I was, I went. I got there, no Pizza Hut. The Sheraton reception desk told me it was back in town. Argh! I ended up at Pizza Days, a Pizza Hut lookalike. At least it was good za. There was a lovely waitress there as well. I couldn't help myself, and flirted as much as I could with my limited Turkish. When I left, she summoned all her English and told me she wants to see me again. Of course, she probably meant: thank you, please come again. But a guy can dream can't he? |
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| 20 July | Göreme | |
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I had an easy time leaving town this morning. First, I strolled over to the bus office with my pack, a service shuttle then whisked me off to the otagar, and I was on my way. I can't get over these buses. Mercedes, Volvos, BMWs, air conditioned, tons of leg room, constantly serving drinks, snacks, and cologne. It's very nice after my previous experiences with Asian buses: my knees tucked up around my ears for 24 hours, livestock in the aisles, four people on a two person bench...
When we got to Nevisehir, I checked if the bus would pass through Göreme. On my map, he could have taken two different ways, one of which was right through town. The driver said to stay on the bus, we would go to Göreme. Great. I sat back and relaxed for the short, 11 km, ride there. 10 minutes later, I noticed a turnoff, Göreme left, Ürgrüp right. The driver turned right! Hey, wait a minute. By the time I got to the front, we were practically pulling into Ügrüp. The driver acted as if he never intended to go to Göreme, giving me a "stupid tourist!" look. Argh. I went to the tourist information office in town to get a map and info on what would be my best way to get back, other than hitchhiking, which was my intention. There were two Belgian girls there ahead of me, very sexy in their skin tight lycra shorts and tank tops. I wonder if they get hassled by Turkish men... One was talking to the info guy, but the other kept staring at me, smiling and looking embarrassed when she saw I noticed. When I put my bag down, she saw the Irish flag sewn on my daypack, blurted out something out to her friend, and went back to looking at me. I tried talking with her, she spoke perfect English of course. She had guessed I was English or Irish when she first saw me, but that didn't explain the staring. I know, I'm as bad as the Turks, she apologized. She never did answer my question. She told me the hotel they were staying at, seeing my bags, "if you're looking for a nice hotel." I know, I know, but silly me stuck to my original plans, on to Göreme. She told me that Antalya was bursting at the seams with tourists. And this place isn't? I said gesturing at the entirely tourist streets outside with rug shops, restaurants, etc. "This isn't bad," she replied. Groan. Still, on the other hand, I'm feeling a sort of guilty pleasure being back in the tourist track. People speak English (or French), restaurants have English menus, there's easy transport. On that note, I caught a minibus to Göreme. The "town" consists of only pensiones, hotels, shops and restaurants along the main road. The real village is in the hills up above. The "few basic pensiones" the book talks about have multiplied in the usual fashion, spawning off "cave romeos"[sic] and "siwiming pool"s, "happy hour", and "free information!" Yup, I've arrived. I found a simple looking place not carved into the stone, so I figured it might be cheaper and nicer. Blue Moon, 400,000 for a very nice, big clean room, ensuite, towels, soap, table, etc. I'll take it. I went out to explore the village. It was very interesting. Every place was carved right out of the rock. I found one small room with a millstone. The stone, base, lever, even the candle holders were all carved out of the native stone. Nice. I felt like a real intruder though, as if we all invaded their nice quiet home, unwelcome. The people themselves were very friendly, though just like in Bali, dollar signs were flashing in many peoples' eyes. One nice thing about this area is that I can carry my lathi around. It's a rugged enough area, a walking stick isn't out of place. Nice to swing it around again. There's a funny irony: in Iran, people were always calling it the "staff of Jesus". Here, where they are mostly Christian, I keep having people call it the staff of Mohammed! I guess it's religious anyway... I'm not though. I'm hoping to have some totally unwholesome, unreligious, hellishly good fun in the weeks to come. |
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| 21 July | Göreme | |
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Next, into the hills. The museum may have the best frescos, but the best houses were definitely outside. A path turns off right past the oto park. There were no gates there, you could climb around some very cozy looking abodes. I wouldn't have minded living here myself, though the winter might be just a bit cold... After a couple hours of this, and I was ready for lunch. Yes, lunch. After dinner, I went and got totally, and completely pissed at the same bar as yesterday. A year ago, I'd have been buzzed. Not now... Whew. |
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| 22 July | Göreme | |
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I decided to move on to Antalya tonight. The bus doesn't leave until 19:30 tonight, and will arrive about 6:30 in Antalya.
My next task for the day was to get a haircut. This is the longest I've ever gone without a cut, over 3 months. It still wasn't needed badly, but I was starting to get shaggy... The barber was busy with another customer when I walked in, so I sat and waited. His son ran out and brought me a coke, and he kept a steady stream of conversation, unfortunately in Turkish, so I understood only that he was talking about his time in Germany. It's almost worth travelling just to experience haircuts in each country. This time, a simple haircut (no shave, massage, etc.) included the usual cut, but then he proceeded to trim the eyebrows, the nose hair, a flaming torch to burn the fuzz off the outside of the ears (a scary experience when you're not expecting it!), a bracing lotion on the face, a touch of cologne, a quick shave to tidy things up and a thorough brushdown. All for 100,000($2.25)! Children play an interesting role in this part of the world. All through Asia, you see young children working hard. If it's not serving food at their parents restaurant or helping their father (or mother) load heavy carts, they're servants to their elders, fetching drinks, clearing dishes, waiting on their parents, and anyone older, and generally doing anything but sitting idly about or attending school. It makes you wonder how it ends. When does a boy stop taking orders and instead start ordering others himself. Does teenage rebellion serve this purpose? And when they stop, who will fetch the tea? Hm. On the other hand, family ties and responsibilities go much further as well. I met men in Iran, 30 yrs old, who only recently started supporting themselves. Up until now, their parents paid for everything, and the "children" lived at home. Once time moves on, you see the reverse occurring. Parents move in with their children, who unquestioningly then support them in their old age. There are no nursing homes here. A different way to be sure. A better one I think... My bus that evening left on time, and the long night began. Around 2 AM, the Bus stopped for "dinner". What makes people think of eating just because we're six hours into the trip... |
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| 23 July | Antalya | |
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The bus got to Antalya about 5:30. It was still dark when I left the bus station, so I walked down to the port and waited for the sunrise. This town is bigger than I expected, though I should have. The streets were completely empty and I could sit in peace and listen to the ocean...
Once the sun was up and the streets came alive, I walked into the old town to find a pension. All the ones listed in my book were full. Some said that there might be room later, but they were not sure at this early hour. I ended up at a rather grotty place, Erkal, but at least it was a room, and only 250,000. Adler's wanted that for a place in a 3 bed dorm... I enjoyed breakfast in the park overlooking the harbor. The water was crystal clear and the views were breathtaking. Today, I wore shorts for the first time in many weeks. I felt naked going out! But I finally found a real beach. It was ultimately depressing. Not only were there no attractive women, there were no young women. The beach was full of fat old women, their fat old husbands, and their screaming kids. The beach was pebble, but very nice. Still... It was almost enough to make me want to leave tomorrow. But I'll never find Thailand again, so I will have to search to find the charm here. Or somewhere... I managed to lose myself in the narrow winding streets of the old city afterwards, just wandering. This place certainly does have charm. And I'm glad to see that a good part of it doesn't even have anything to do with the tourist industry. I found entire streets without a single hotel sign. I sure made the right decision to end my trip. I've found that I'm spending an increasing amount of time alone in my room, sleeping or reading. I just can't handle struggling to understand yet another culture, speak with yet another interested local person. I have certainly burnt out... It would help to meet some people, though that doesn't look too likely at the present time. Everyone I see is either a couple, a family, or worst of all, a tourist group. None are interested of course in meeting anyone outside of their own group. |
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| 24 July | Antalya | |
| Nothing day. Sat in the park, ate some oranges and read all afternoon. It was very hot today. Nothing at all like India, but after the last month of cool locations, ugh. I'm sweating again! | ||
| 25 July | Fethiye | |
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Up and out. A small bus took me to Fethiye. When we arrived at the bus terminal, I was confused. We're here? It didn't look anywhere near the ocean. All I saw were dry brown hills stretching off in all directions. Yes, this is Fethiye. A mob of pension touts and taxi drivers went after me. The town was over 2km away. But these guys were small league compared to the pros I've seen before. They were not a problem to brush off.
Once I walked into town, I spotted the harbor. From here, it looks like a lake. The ocean is around the "corner." I found a nice clean big room at Primala for 300,000. Fethiye itself was much smaller than Antalya, but the tourist industry was also much more concentrated. The entire town seemed mostly oriented to tourists, rug shops, jewelry, money changers, yes please! In Antalya, it still seemed to be only a sideline. You could still avoid the parasites if you tried. I bought a yum chicken kebab sandwich for 60. In the open market, a kilo of oranges was 25, and a half kilo of green beans for 10. I've finally done an about face here, I'm stuffing myself with too much food for a change... The harbor was nice, though hardly as scenic as Antalya. At night, I finally found a city that's halfway alive. The many restaurants were packed, the streets were filled to the brim with people strolling, and there were bars with very good live bands (and very pricey beers). Even if they were all tourists, it made a nice change. |
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| 26 July | Fethiye | |
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I woke up late with bit of a hangover this morning. It's the Efes beer that does it, I'm suspecting. I didn't drink that much last night. It took me a long time to get moving.
Out to see the tombs. It cost 50,000 fucking Lire to get in, but I should have saved my money and just hopped the fence, as I later did. There was not much to see, but it was still impressive. One tome (Admyntas) dated all the way back to 450BC. Most tourists seemed to only visit this one, as it was the only one with stairs up to it. I wanted my money's worth, though, so I climbed over to see the others. The entire area was dotted with them. While I was sitting coolly up inside one of them, some other tourists saw me. "Oh look dear, we can go to these as well!" Then, the whole group gave up almost immediately when they saw that there were no stairs up, just a barerock scramble. I should modify my attitude, but sometimes, I just find tourists pitiful... Back to town, the open market that yesterday was bustling with hundreds of shops, today is a dusty empty road. I found out that it only runs on Tuesdays and Fridays. It was eerie seeing the emptiness today, knowing that in two days, stalls will spring up again and people will all converge... I'm thinking of going to Dalyan, splurging, and finding myself a very nice place to stay. Treat myself again. After all, I set myself a "budget" for Turkey of US$30-40, but I've only averaged US$22/day. I could go a step up if I wish... Hm. |
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| 27 July | Fethiye | |
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Late start. Usual bread and butter for brekkie, then on to Oludeniz, 40,000. Finally, a good beach! They wanted 25,000 to actually enter the park where the beautiful lagoon is located, but the beach stretches all along and more of it is public than park. The public part was fine with me. Besides, I think the beauty of nature would be lost on me right now. The beauty of women on the other hand! The beach was full on all sides, topless g-strings. Very nice. Very crowded as well, but nicely on the young side. I found a clear spot and took a nap. It was a very hot day, but the water was beautiful, clear, clean, and cool. On with the sunblock! I spent the day reading, swimming ogling, etc. Soon after I arrived, others filled the area, all lovelies. Nice after Muslim Mommas!
I had the realization last night of what I've really gained on this trip. I kept looking for more obvious changes, a new ability at confronting tough situations, new personality improvements, etc. I realized that was not what this trip was about at all. It might have been my unexpressed goal, but it's not what I've received. The true return this trip has given me is increased understanding and knowledge of the world around me. Before, my scope was limited to only the western world. Sure, in school I studied eastern history, Buddhism, Islam, etc. but that was only book knowledge, dry and unenlightening. Now, I have been here, met the people, experienced their lifestyle (if only in a rather limited manner). I remember telling Sabine before we left Oz for Bali that she wouldn't find M&M's there, only rice, etc. What an ignorant fool I was! At the time, I had no idea of what it was really like, despite all my initial research. Now, I've seen the fallen Bali, lived with normal Thai folk. I've been and lived the real Iran, unfiltered by any slanted journalism. The fanatic is revealed as a generous, intelligent, real person. The Far East as a people struggling as fast as they can to catch up with the "modern" world, as their traditions fade or are integrated into the new order. The world has become a much more homogenous place than it even was in Dad's time, but old prejudices and greed continue to bring changes on one hand, while tradition and old values resist it on the other. So, my own world has been broadened, showing me different ways of living and thinking than my own European culture provides. And just that, plus all the adventures I've had and places I've visited, that makes this entire time worthwhile. I have not squandered my money, my time, possible my career on a whimsical "holiday"! I have received an education. And some awesome experiences that are certainly ones for the memories! La di da di da... Out for a good dinner at a normal lokantseri, no tourist place for me with their annoying "Yes, please!" "Good evening!" Slimeballs! Good kebab and cajik (of course). |
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| 28 July | Fethiye | |
| Up early with no problems. No action. Nothing today. | ||
| 29 July | Patara | |
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Out of town. I was going to take a minibus to Patara, but there was a problem. No one else was going that way today. The driver kept looping through town three times hoping for more passengers, but only one other person was going, and he was only going half the way. For 100,000, the driver will definitely lose money talking me 73 km... I was just hoping he didn't dump me halfway there... Well, he did, but in a nice way. We stopped at a town halfway, the driver got out and walked away. Just when I started to get impatient (about 20 minutes), he came back following another bus. He said "This bus, Patara!" and motioned me in. OK. He didn't even ask for any money, just looked relieved he didn't have to go the entire way with only 1 passenger. Anyway, I made it with no problems. I found a very nice pension for 400,000, including breakfast, with fan, balcony, and a very friendly proprietor. St. Nicholas, I believe it's called.
After dumping my kit, I walked out to the beach, a 2 km walk. The beach here is 20 km long! At my pension, I was told it was the second longest in the world (Oz has 115km), but I doubt it. But it was pretty incredible nevertheless. There were very few people, all bunched at one end. I walked about 2km further down, and there was no one around at all. I stripped down and plunged in. Good surf. Fun. I forgot the sunscreen though, so I couldn't stay out as long as I might have. I jumped out and went back to admire some truly inspiring models of feminine form. Quick lunch of kebab and Fanta, as I sat in the shade and enjoyed the pounding of the surf. Back to town, detouring to check out the ancient ruins alongside the road. Theatre, buildings, arches. Interesting. It was strange to be back in Greek/Roman territory again. The writing on the theatre was still easily readable, but my Greek alphabet is rusty. And as for my mastery of the Lycian Greek language, well... Back to nap as usual before dinner. I had an excellent huge dinner at my pension. While eating, I met Ang from Hanover. He's only been in Turkey for 3 weeks, but he's a traveller in the good sense. He told me about a place called Butterfly Valley, near Oludeniz. He made it sound like the local version of Koh Phangan, a traveller centre. There is no electricity, just generators. Cheap food, treehouses and camping, but no hotels - yet. I think I'll come back through here to see it after Mom leaves. He stayed 6 days, and with only 3 weeks, that's a good recommendation! |
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| 30 July | Patara | |
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Up for breakfast! What a novelty. Then I caught a minibus to check out Xanthos, some nearby ancient ruins. It dropped me off in Kinik, about a 10 minute walk away, uphill. On the walk up to the ruins, a kid had an interesting ride. He'd taken a board, attached wheels, and made a sort of basic, basic go kart. It had no steering except by leaning and no brakes but his feet. He kept running up the hill ahead of me, then racing back down. Why he wasn't covered in cuts is beyond me. I asked if I could take his picture, he threw his hands in the air as he raced past, "Evvet!"
The ruins were interesting but as usual, I wasn't really into it. The most interesting thing I saw, better than the amphitheatre, the Lycian or Roman tombs, etc., was a very simple "mosaic" on the floor of one of the buildings. The rest was interesting, but this was actually what someone walked on years ago. It was loose, and I could even pick pieces out, but I didn't care to at all. It just seemed more real than all the other crumbling magnificence. Especially since the frescos were fakes, the real ones are in a British Museum, along with half the world it seems. It's the same story in many countries I've visited. I will have to get to England again and check it all out someday. Back in Patara, I tried to phone home. After the 4th disconnect, I gave up, but I did get some information. Mom's friends' sister is letting us have her apartment in Istanbul, so I either just need somewhere to crash the previous night, or if the bus arrives early enough, show up that day... Next, back to the beach. Played in the surf a bit, admired some more lovelies, then a bus back (I got lazy). At dinner, I was asked if I wanted the English or German menu. I asked for the Turkish one. They didn't have one. Hm. |
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| 31 July | Bus to Ankara | |
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Breakfast again (I could get used to this!) then out of room. The owner told me I could get a shower tonight before I caught my bus, so I decided to spend the day at the beach... All day long. Relaxing time. I rented an umbrella and was nice and cool all day. The lovelies were out in force. Nice.
Back for a shower and dinner, then a car took me and a Turkish girl down to the main road to wait for the bus. The bus pulls up, and the only foreigner walks to the back of the bus. Literally. I was in seat 43, in the back left corner. Ugh. The man in the other corner spent the entire ride throwing up, it was a very hot ride. We pulled up for the usual "dinner" break, but this time, I had brought some oranges. I ate a couple while looking over a few more beautiful Turkish girls, and while they discussed me. I could be wrong, but whatever they were saying seemed complimentary by the looks and tone. Or maybe they just liked the smell of the oranges... |
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| 1 August | Ankara | |
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After a long hot night, the bus pulled into Ankara around 7:30. After last night, I decided to stay the night here and just take a day bus to Istanbul tomorrow morning. So, back to Opera. This time, we arrived at the otagar, so I could take a bus right to Opera. The Ackman Hotel was full, so around the corner to Devran. Not nearly as nice, but it's a room. I cleaned up, then went hopefully to the GPO. I got a letter! Yes. But it's not the one from the folks, it's from Francesca. I'm glad to get it anyway, but it looks like the letter from the folks must be lost. It's been over 3 weeks now since it was sent. Francesca sent her letter from St. Petersburg, Russia! Wow. I guess it was worth coming back, but annoying that of all my mail that has been sent, it's here that one finally goes missing. It could be because of the checks, though they're worthless to anyone now. I hope. I'll try one last time this afternoon in case they just missed it, then with the dictionary's help, try to forward any future mail on to Athens, just in case it's slow in coming. Now what? Had enough of Ankara last time. I should have just taken a day bus today to Istanbul. Oh well, time to chill...
Into the park. I met some Turks who just came back from Bosnia. Or I think they did. They spoke no English at all, so we had to rely on my very limited Turkish and my dictionary. Still, it was an interesting talk. We went for an early dinner at a local lokanterseri. Cacik, kebab, and a cola only came to 130,000. At a tourist place, the same meal, but poorer quality and better "ambiance" would have easily been 300,000 or more. Humph. |
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| 2 August | Istanbul | |
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Up and out. The GPO didn't open until 8:30, so that mail is now officially lost. Damn. Ullosoy was as efficient as ever. 9:30, the bus rolled out. It got to Istanbul about 4:30.
On the bus, I spent most of the ride talking with Vesile, a very nice Turkish girl from Istanbul. She's a model, but she's studying engineering now in Ankara. As we arrived, she gave me her number and invited me to dinner. I'll call her tonight to get directions. Ullosoy had a servis shuttle to Aksaray, and I walked from there to Sultanahmet. It was further than it looked on my map. Much further. I couldn't figure out where I was, but I eventually made it to the right area and found the tourist office. They had a good free map, but otherwise they were totally unhelpful and unfriendly. When I asked for directions to the Sinbad Hostel, the guy mumbled that way, and nodded over his shoulder. Can you be more specific? He circled an area 1km square on the map, "There!" Which street? There's 20 streets here! Hmph. He wouldn't say any more. So I tried for something else. I asked for ways to reach the airport tomorrow morning. His helpful response? "Take a taxi." Any cheaper way? "No." I give up. I couldn't find Sinbad and the Orient hostel was full, so I ended up at Sultan Hostel. A bed in the 4 bed dorm cost me as much as a private room with breakfast elsewhere. At least it's clean and friendly, good enough for one night... They have a shuttle to airport for 150,000. Good enough. Aya Sophia didn't look like much from the outside at least. The Blue Mosque... also big, but rather boring after Iran. There was some nice calligraphy on the portal. I'm going to save going in until tomorrow with Mom. People kept asking me if I was Muslim. Do I look it or something? Maybe it's the lathi. After the last couple days on the buses, my knee feels crippled. Of course I could walk without the lathi, but right now, it's a psychological aid if nothing else. Istanbul's very expensive. Biscuits here cost 50% more than regular towns, 25% more than even tourist spots. Ouch. I don't want to stay longer than necessary. I'll just wait and see what Mom wants to do. Mom, what a strange notion! It will be very weird seeing her again. I know she's going to make a scene tomorrow. Still, it'll be good. That evening, I called Vesile and got directions out to her home. It was easy to find, and she had a nice place. She introduced me to a friend of hers, who didn't speak English, so we didn't talk much. Vesile turned out to be an excellent cook. The two of us stayed up very late talking. Interesting girl. I didn't get to sleep until after 1:00. |
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| 3 August | Istanbul | |
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I was up early, leaving me enough time to eat a delicious omelet at the Backpacker's Cafe across the street before hopping on the shuttle to the airport. No problem. Mom's flight arrived and there she was. Surprisingly, she made no scene. She seemed very relaxed, if also very tired. My reaction? Surprisingly, none. It seemed like I just saw her a short time ago, that seeing her after 10 months, in Istanbul, after all my travels, was no big deal.
She gave me the address of her friend's apartment, the place we were going to stay. Groan. It's all the way out in Evenköy. It's in Asian Istanbul, but almost as far out as you can get. She was tired, so we took a taxi, and off we go. 45 minutes later, after much frustration on the driver's part (he didn't know this part of Istanbul) we arrived. The fare was 1million. Ouch. Essen (Mom's friend) was waiting for us. It was a very nice place, but it was weird having a kitchen I could use. But Essen just would not leave. She was only being hospitable, but Mom was knocked out from not sleeping last night, the 10 hour flight, etc. Essen kept her talking for over 3 hours, then insisted on showing us where the seabus leaves to go to Sultanahmet. It turned out to be a 45 minute walk! It was not what we needed right now. And the small talk was driving me crazy! I was not used to polite chatter at all after the last year. I insisted on a dolmus back and Mom went right to bed. I went back to my room to read the Greek LP and go through the goodies Mom brought for me. The LP book, a new penny whistle, my black sneakers, a printed out email dispatch from Marc, my tan trousers and a buttonup shirt, a singlet, my bathing trunks, goggles, Grandpa's knife, cookies, and candy. Wow. I put the new clothes on and looked in the mirror. Whoa, who's that stranger? That clean cut, normal looking guy certainly isn't the same one who's been slouching around in T-shirts and pajamas for the last year! Very weird. |
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| 4 August | Istanbul | |
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We fixed omelets for breakfast, and ran to catch the seabus into town. It took over a half hour to reach town, but it was still an interesting ride. It left us across the bridge from Sultanahmet. We started our sightseeing. The spice market and the Grand Bazaar were very disappointing for both of us. Mom was looking for the same gold shawl aunt Kathleen bought here for Grandma. We found nothing. It was far too modern for my tastes. There were no great barrels of spices, no exotic smells, no shouting merchants, no livestock. There was just packaged, glassed in, over-touristed modern crap. The Bazaar looked like it might have been pretty amazing years ago, but no longer. Now, it is simply a modern shopping mall set in an amazing structure.
Next, we went to Agia Sofia. I thought the outside looked pretty ugly, but massive. Once we were inside, though, it was extremely nice. You could see the two periods it went through. First a church, then a mosque. Upstairs, there were amazing mosaics that had been plastered over centuries ago, and they were still in the process of uncovering them.
Introducing Mom to Turkish cuisine, we had lunch at the Backpacker's Cafe. :-) They made excellent sandwiches. Mom even asked to come back tomorrow for another. We got back to the apartment about 3:00, Mom was dragging from jet lag. After we split a watermelon, she went to bed and I watched MTV and finished off the cookies... |
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| 5 August | Istanbul | |
| We missed the one morning ferry, so we had to take a bus to Kadiköy, then a regular ferry from there. Into Topkapi Palace. It was nice, but nothing too special. The holy relics were interesting. John the Baptist's finger, Mohammed's sword, hair, and tooth, etc. Lunch again at Backpackers, then crossed the Horn to go to the Flower Market area. There was a nice pedestrian area and Mom almost found a suitable shawl, but not quite. | ||
| 6 August | Istanbul | |
| Breakfast at Essen's place. Then on to Erenomon port to take the Bosphorus cruise. Mom insisted. The views along the way were rather nice. At the last stop, we got off. We were hungry, but only fish was being sold around here. Mom didn't trust it, and I don't want it. So she grabbed an ice cream, I got a kebab, over her protests. "Ew, you're going to eat that?!" "Mom!" We climbed up to an old ruined castle above the town for a very nice view of the Bosphorus, including a view up into the Black Sea. It was interesting: There's Europe on the left, Asia on the right! | ||
| 7 August | Selçuk | |
| On to Izmir, then Selçuk today. It was a reasonably easy time. Except that the very grotty bus from Izmir didn't even stop in Selçuk. The driver passed right by on his way to Kusadasi before we figured it out. Not again! A minibus took us back to Selçuk no problem. I liked Selçuk, it was nice for a tourist area. For housing, I found what I considered to be a luxurious place for 1.2M, Mom found it just OK. Different standards of travelling... | ||
| 8 August | Bodrum | |
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Back in town, we walked up to castle/fortress on top to look down on the Temple of Artemis. Only one column was left of what was once one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. Our bus left at 2:30 to Bodrum. It was a bad ride. They had given our seats away and the bus was full. The conductor refused to even look at my ticket, so I stood for almost an hour until finally someone got off. The bus was also packed with smokers. I counted 9 of them in the seats in front, behind and to the sides! We piled out in Bodrum reeking of an ashtray. Mom needed to buy a ticket back to Istanbul when it was time for her to go, so she went to a travel agency, I dumped my bags and looked for a room. Problem. Absolutely every pensione I tried was full (15 of them!). While I was gone, the travel agent "conveniently" got a call canceling a hotel reservation. I collapsed (literally) into the shop and reported my news. Mom decided to take the hotel. I would pay US$15 of the US$65 total to stay in my budget. Ouch! The place wasn't even very special. We were paying for the pool, the bar, the restaurant, etc. But it's a room. While I was looking into getting some film developed, Mom got lured into sitting down at a "atmospheric" restaurant and called me over. Two pizza margaritas, a large water and cacik, 800,000! After dinner, we picked up my pictures. As usual, I didn't take enough of the good stuff, and too many of the Taj, Cappadocia, etc. Mom freaked when she saw the pictures of me with a beard. It was a bad night, constantly calling the front desk asking them to turn down blasting music at the pool downstairs, until after 2:00. |
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| 9 August | Pammukale | |
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Up for a good breakfast spread. We were planning to move out of the hotel today, but Mom decided that she had enough of the Mediterranean. We will go to Pammukale today for the rest of her time. Whatever. Smokers did their usual thing on the bus there. Everything seems to have taken a turn for the worse since Istanbul. Buses, hotels, food, etc. This time, the driver acts like a dolmus bus. He kept packing them in until there was not even enough room to stand, then took on a new truck tire to deliver. The bus stopped in Denizli, and a local bus took us to Pammukale. We had made reservations this time at the Koray Motel. I thought it was fine. We had a good light dinner at a small lokanta. This town is just at that stage of "tourist ghetto" that can be managed. The "Yes please" crowd were very low key. But it had the mandatory carpet shops of course, and English menus, just for your pleasure, sir. |
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| 10 August | Pammukale | |
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Up to see the sites. Wow. The white formations looked like snow and ice, with lovely blue colored water in pools all over the ridge. Not only were there natural wonders, but the man made ones were fine as well. There were some very nice ruins, especially the amphitheatre with intact statues and carvings. This was the first time I've seen spiral columns. But all the busloads were there to splash in the pools. We went back up in the evening to watch the sunset. Beautiful. |
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| 11 August | Pammukale | |
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After a hot night, Mom decided we're moving to one of the nice hotels on the ridge, one we looked at yesterday. US$55 with aircon, very nice setting, etc. Hotel Koru. But when she called, they were full up, so we decided to stay put. Just vegged rest of the day. I carved with my new/old knife, Mom wrote postcards.
Mom made a big purchase today. A carpet, worth several thousand dollars. Yikes. But she knows her stuff. She said that the same one would cost twice what she paid here back home. If you say so. Wait'll Dad sees it... |
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| 12 August | Dalaman | |
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9:30 bus to Dalaman. Even though the Kamil Koç agent sold us a "ticket", it turned out to be just another regular long distance minibus. Still, this one was much better because we got seats near the window and blasted the smokers away simply by opening our window full as we drove.
When we got into Dalaman, we were the last people on the bus. The driver asked us if we wanted to go to the airport. No. What do you want? I had no ideas on where to stay in this town, and there was no tourist information, so we asked if he knew of a nice hotel. He recommended one right around the corner, and took us right to the door when we asked. Nice. But then Mom declared the place unsuitable and I was sent out to scour the town again and find a place. The tourist information office turned out to be at airport, when I called, no one there spoke English or French, and no other hotel I checked had air conditioning. I trudged back to tell Mom we had no choice. While I was gone, a better room had appeared. Argh. We found a very good place for dinner. The waiter kept bringing us "gifts", free salad, a huge plate of watermelon, apple tea. Nice. But when it was time to leave, we had problems. I asked for the bill. The waiter smiled, responded "slowly, slowly", and walked off. I figured he would bring it. 15 minutes later, no bill. I asked again, nothing. I asked another waiter, in Turkish, he smiled and walked off. Nothing. Other people that had arrived later were now getting their bills and paying. One hour after I first asked, he still wouldn't bring it. I finally gave up, threw money at the register and dragged Mom out with me. I don't know what that was all about. It soured a pleasant meal. Out for some baklava after. The lovely girl behind the counter threw in an extra piece for me, smiled, and then only charged me 10,000 for 3 pieces! I paid 60,000 for just two pieces other times. Nice. Still, this is a strange town. To bed with the aircon humming. Snore! |
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| 13 August | Dalyan | |
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We had to get up at 4:00 to get Mom to the airport. Groan. I left my stuff behind in the room, dragged the very heavy carpet (3m x 5m) out to the curb, and fetched a taxi. 500,000 for a 6km drive! Yeouch! She checked her bags in, and we sat and talked until boarding time. Just like that, a hug at the gate, a "See ya in December!", and I was on my own again. I later learned that she had some trouble at the airport in Istanbul. The police pulled her aside without telling her why. They asked her all sorts of intimidating questions and wouldn't let her go to reach her plane. She was at the point of missing her flight altogether before they finally let her go... without ever telling her what it was all about. She probably had visions from the Midnight Express floating through her mind. It certainly made her last moments in Turkey memorable!
I refused to pay another 500,000 to get back, and there was no public bus into town. I tried to hitch a ride with one of the 20 or so tourist package buses parked outside, but no one would take me and most were very rude about it. Fuck them. I asked a cop which direction town was located (I hadn't paid attention before) and headed off. Less than an hour's pleasant walk later, the sun was just peeking up over the hills, and I was back in my air conditioned room. After breakfast, I packed up, walked across the street, hailed a minibus to Ortaca and I was on my way within 30 seconds. At Ortaca, I walked 5 steps to another minibus that took me to Dalyon. No problem, no smokers, and I had a pension as soon as I arrived. After thoughts of Mom's visit? It was good to see her again, but her style of travel is too different from my own. She likes comfort when she travels, I prefer to do things for myself. She had difficulty learning how to even say "thank you" in Turkish. Not my sort of travelling companion at all, as bad as that might be to say of my own mother. I'm very relieved to be on my own again. |
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| 14 August | Dalyan | |
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Looking at Greece, I asked myself what I was looking for. History? Nope. Scenery? Not really. Ruins? Hardly. Peace and quiet? Just a little bit. Wild party scene, topless women packing the beaches, sex, suds, sand, and sea? Bingo! That cancels 90% of the islands. I even decided to knock Crete off the list. Now, it looks like I stay on Rhodes, Ios, Paros, and Amorgos, with maybe Mykonos at the end. We'll see. Maybe I'll like Butterfly Valley enough to stay a couple weeks, like at Raileh in Thailand, and I'll have to cut even Rhodes and Amorgos off. It's doubtful at this point... I just want to find a place with friendly people my age who want a good time, no more of these package travel, old fogies I see around here. Hm. I spent much of the day sitting by the river and watching the world go by. I drew some, carved a bit, read a little, but just mellowed out. An old Kurdish gentleman sat beside me and we talked for a while. He kept trying to trade walking sticks with me. Sorry. |
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| 15 August | Butterfly Valley | |
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Up and out, nice and easy. A minibus brought me to Fethiye. I walked 2 metres to another bus, and that one took me to Oludeniz. Fethiye was absolutely swarming today. It's amazing the difference 3 weeks makes around here.
At Oludeniz, I bought my ticket to Butterfly Valley. It was hyped more than I liked around here, but I trusted Ang's evaluation. While I was buying my ticket, a couple of Brits spoke of doom in my ear. They just got back from there this morning. The girl was saying that they're nice and friendly on the boat on this side, but at the other end, you must swim out to the boat and fight others like animals to get back. Um. She said it always happens. Um. This doesn't sound too good. Ang was here almost a month ago, prepreak, maybe that made a difference? But then I took a second look at these two. They seemed the kind that always complain, that are never happy. I asked them if it was still worth doing. "Yeah, it's OK, I guess." Yup, I think I nailed it. I hope. The next boat left at 2:00, so I sat in the shade and waited it out.. As 2:00 arrived, I saw a boat pulling in. The people on it were from Butterfly Valley. Everyone was saying the same thing: don't go, you won't return. Hm. But then I saw another boat pull away from further down the beach. Doh! I missed the boat. This one didn't leave until 5:00. Damn. Back to waiting... Eventually, the time arrived, I was on the boat, and we pulled away. The water was extremely choppy today. It was the worst I've ever seen from a small boat. We had to go very slowly, but even still, we almost tipped a few times when the driver didn't turn into the wave in time. 45 minutes later, I was just about to yell "dolphins off the port!" and lose my lunch (ulp), but just then, we pulled around the coast, and there it was. First impression: not impressed. There was a nice valley, beach, and cliffs, but there was no feeling of magic here... It was all young people, backpackers of some sort each one. The women even outnumbered the men. People were already drinking, so I picked a group randomly and joined in. After dinner, everyone went up to a very nice cozy bar carved out of the cliff. Now that I knew some people, the place started feeling better. It was easy to meet people, but even still, it felt a little hollow. Oh well, it still looks good enough for a few days... |
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| 16 August | Butterfly Valley | |
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The sun chased me from my cold bed on the beach early. I didn't have much choice but to rise and shine once it rose over the cliffs of the valley. Not much to say. I just relaxed all day, did nothing but carve, accept compliments :-), and talk with people. The day passed before I knew it.
I went up to the restaurant on the cliff with a few others. It was a reasonably hard climb, about 30 minutes. You had to clamber up ropes, scramble over rocks, and not have much of a fear of (ulp) heights. I worked up a real sweat, so the cold spring at the top felt so nice. The "restaurant" was more like a lady's home. She had us all sit under a covered area scattered with cushions and rugs in groups of about 10. After we had cooled off, they brought out a cloth for a table, then a huge tray of various (vegetarian) foods, and very thin bread to make sandwiches with. It was extremely tasty, and they kept refilling the bowls as we kept emptying them. They had beer for sale, but the cold, free spring water was fine for me. All for 100,000. It was a very good feed, then the sunset on the beaches and cliffs as we climbed down offered the perfect dessert. Nice. I went to the bar again in the evening with a few Aussies. Eventually, a group of lovely Danish girls sat with us and started talking. Very nice. "My" girl and her friend left early though, and I left soon after. Two of the Aussies and 2 Danes (one who was just incredible) on the other hand, went on all night, if you get my meaning. Midnight swims, summer flings... |
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| 17 August | Butterfly Valley | |
| I slept better last night due to grabbing a mattress from a departing camper and wearing my long sleeve polypro shirt. I was still up at 8:30 from the sun. Again, nothing all day, but a good nothing, very relaxing. | ||
| 18 August | Butterfly Valley | |
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I went to work this morning. They needed help to unload a boatload of water, soft drinks, and beer. It was heavy work, but it felt good to use the muscles again, to discover I had any left! In return, I got one free night here and one free beer. Low pay, but I like it! Lance, another Aussie who works here, said there was going to be some sort of blowout party tonight. It could be an interesting night...
Nah. Same old, same old. I drank too much as usual, met some interesting people, and down to the beach. |
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| 19 August | Butterfly Valley | |
| I'm not getting tired of this yet.. The Aussies left, so I found some Brit skinheads to hang with now. At the bar at night, I met Michelle, a Brit girl who had just been at Raileh this March. We may have met! Like me, she likes Butterfly, but said it pales in comparison with "our" Raileh. Big hug, she understands! We had a good talk, "reminiscing" about the place and how we knew many of the same people, Chaz, Dori, Gulap, Murphy. Very good. | ||
| 20 August | Butterfly Valley | |
| Another day in paradise. I woke up this morning with a messed up foot. I must have stepped on something last night before bed. Whatever it was left a nice deep gash in the sole of my foot. Ouch. It ruined my plans to climb to the waterfalls. So instead, I rented fins, a mask, and snorkel and swam the bay. I same the entire length of one side, across the bay, and back, taking time along the way to see the fishies, test my underwater time (2:30min!) and depth ability. Good night at the bar first with Michelle, then one of the brit skinhead girls, getting pretty serious. Mm. | ||
| 21 August | Fethiye | |
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I decided to move on today. 6 nights was enough. I paid up (420,000 for 6 nights!) and joined the mob waiting for the boat. And waited and waited. The morning boat never came for us, so it was a long vigil staring out to sea.
Finally about 1:00, two boats arrived. Everyone rushed out into the water, but a quick calculation showed there was plenty of room for everyone, so I took my time. The water was much calmer today, not like the rough seas coming in. But just as we were pulling into Oludeniz, the diesel engine exploded into a roaring mass of oily black smoke. The boat filled with water, and we started to sink. Instantly, I was out and got my daypack (with moneybelt, camera, and journal) and lathi to shore safely. I turned around to see the boat far out from the shore now with everyone screaming and falling out as fast as they could manage, while the boat guy was yelling at everyone at the top of his lungs to get out. The engine was about to explode into flames. I never actually saw it happen, I was helping others to shore, but the next time I looked, the engine had flames pouring out of it. It didn't last long though, they put it out quickly. After it was out, I went back for our packs. One girl couldn't swim, another was crying on the shore. I grabbed what packs I could find (including mine) and swam back, dumping them on the sand. Problem. My pack had now been soaking for 20 minutes in oily diesel fuel and saltwater. It was absolutely soaked and reeking. Everyone else's packs were in the same condition, except some of the others lost even their passports and cameras in the mess. There goes my plans for Marmaris today. Not with my backpack a fireball in the making and no clean clothes for me, plus who knows what sort of damage inside. I found a freshwater hose and hosed both myself and my pack off, but we both still reeked of diesel. I decided to stay the night in Fethiye and survey the damage. When I was getting into the minibus, the driver offered to help me with my pack. After he threw it in, a funny look came over his face, as if he had just smelled me. Then he looked down at his greasy hands and yelled at me, "What's this?" Sorry guy. Fethiye was full up when I got there, and I needed to use a tourist agency to find a place. I stood reeking in their office and looked nervously at the smoking cigarettes in peoples' hands. I took a 500,000 aircon pension with pool (I splurged) and spent the next several hours washing everything. And again, and again, and yet again. After about 3 washes, my clothes were OK, but my pack after literally hours of work still reeked of oil. Yuck. Luckily, nothing was really ruined, even my vaccination card was dry, thanks to my masterful packing abilities. :-) I was very lucky. |
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| 22 August | Fethiye | |
| Nothing. | ||
| 23 August | Marmaris US1=47,000 Turkish Lire | |
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Time to leave Turkey. I took a dolmus to the otagar, then a bus to Marmaris with a very friendly driver ("This bus, No Smoking! Evvet?"). What a nice way to finish up my bus trips in this country. :-)
At Marmaris, there was a hostel! OK, it still cost 250,000, but the people there were very friendly, it was clean, and I had been told that the pensiones here are packed and very pricey. I left my bags on a bunk and went out to wander around "town" I have to say that Marmaris is probably the most horrible town I've encountered on this trip. It has no excuse for being. There are only carpet shops, restaurants, leather shops, travel shops, all hassling everyone and anyone to come into their shops relentlessly as you passed by. I took to carrying my lathi again so I could make a few "points" and drive them off. Very poor. Luckily, I only had one piece of business to take of: I needed a ferry ticket to Rhodes. I found out that there was no longer a ferry, it had been completely replaced by a hovercraft, costing 1,600,000. Ouch. Back at the hostel, I met Paul (Brit) who had been working in Ankara for the past year. He had just broke up with his Turkish girlfriend and was agonizing over it. We went out to find food. He was similarly disgusted with this town, but after some searching, we actually found a plain lokanta hidden in a back alley. Soon after we started eating, the place became packed with Turkish locals, obviously we had stumbled on the place "town"'s people eat at. It was a good sign. Good food too, very cheap. No one used English here at all, though the waiter tried a few times. But Paul (of course) and I both spoke Turkish well enough, we insisted on using it. We didn't even use the menu, just said what we wanted, and answered a few questions when he asked. It felt good to use what I've learnt in the past 6 weeks. But then after we finished the very good meal, our bill had over 200,000 in extra stuff we never ordered. The "fixed" bill had an almost 100,000 mistake in addition. It was very annoying they tried when we were both well versed in Turkish ways. Oh well. We bought a couple cheap 30,000 huge beers at one place to pass the time and people watch, then went into the clubs to find some nightlife. There was not much on, but one Turkish (as in only Turkish people there) place had a good band and many many lovelies so we stayed a bit. Paul tried hitting on one girl, with no luck so we moved off. Many clubs had signs over their entrances saying (in Turkish) "No Turks allowed unless accompanied by women!" We finally went to one place where a girl he knew sings. She used to be a friend of his ex-girlfriend. She had a great voice, but if you closed your eyes, you'd swear she was a guy. But not with that body! After her show, we sat and talked a few hours until I had to go. Good craic.
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©Copyright Seán Connolly |
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