From the Blue Mosque we headed across the street to the site of the
ancient Roman auditorium - the Hippodrome. There was little to see except
for two obelisks and a destroyed statue of two intertwined serpents.
Tuesday 9/26/95
Melony and I have successfully made it onto the bus bound for Cappadocia.
The first leg of this journey was via a mini bus known as a dolmus from Old
Istanbul to the modern Ataturk bus station. In Turkish, dolmus literally means
stuffed, and our ride certainly lived up to its name, we shared the ninety
minute ride with thirteen other travelers, five of which were French students.
How exciting to be twenty and French.
While eavesdropping on an English tour guide who shared our dolmus I
learned some interesting facts:
• Cappadocia means "the land of the beautiful horses."
Arabian horses are still raised there.
• Yabashi-yabashi means "slowly slowly" in Turkish. It is
the way of life around here - be patient, "it'll happen when it
happens."
• There have been several instances of PKK violence against foreign
tourists this past year, including the bombings of a tour bus and a
casino. Six Americans were killed in the casino attack.
• About a month ago a bunch of PKK sympathizers were gathered in
front of the Hayasofa chanting "we will overcome" in Turkish
when riot police opened fire on the crowd. The guide said that he jumped
behind a bush to escape the gunfire and stampeding crowd.
• Seven regions still weave rugs from wool died exclusively with
vegetable dyes. I didn't catch the places, but I plan to interrogate him
later as he is also on this bus.
• Most rugs today are dyed with chemical dyes which contain tiny
metal particles which cut the rug fibers when it is walked on.
• $200.00 is the minimum price for a good 4' x 6" carpet.
Paying anything less would mean that you bought some imitation junk.
The middle-aged mom sitting in front of us on the bus has henna-stained
palms. Henna is a local vegetable from which an orange dye is extracted.
Several days prior to a young woman’s wedding her family has a celebration,
during which her palms are stained and then wrapped until the ceremony. The
stain is permanent and has the color of dried blood. Henna palms are
considered a sign of beauty among country folk, but naturally this tradition
is fading in the urban areas. She and her husband are visibly proud of their
two teenage boys who have both been sneaking smokes ever since we left the bus
station.
Mel and I spent our last day in Istanbul leisurely walking from cafe to
cafe, taking time out to see the Hayasofa and the grand bazaar. The dome of
the Hayasofa was the largest ever constructed at that time and remained so for
over one thousand years. It was eventually surpassed in the fifteenth century
by St. Peter's Basilica. The dome was meant to embody the power of God,
ironically many of the faithful refused to stand beneath it, terrified that it
would collapse beneath it’s own weight.
We found the Grand Bazaar quite easy to navigate and the salesmen
relatively mild-mannered. The Bazaar is a cobweb of covered alleys packed with
a seemingly endless supply of gold, leather and carpet merchants, all
operating out of closet-sized shops. A salesman approached Melony, but before
he could get a word out she said "I don't want any thank you."
"But you don't even know what I'm selling" the salesman pleaded
"I don't care," replied Mel.
For me, one of the most intimidating aspects of traveling in a foreign
country is entering a restaurant. Questions without answers immediately start
spinning in my head; "Will I be able to read the menu?" "Is
everything made with mayonnaise?" "Do I tip the waiter? If so how
much?"
Luckily dining is Turkey is far from intimidating, either the host will
bring you through the kitchen or everything on the menu is laid out cafeteria
style. In either case one need only to point to the dish of choice and wa-la,
dinner is served. The food here is wonderful, most dishes are served with rice
and fresh vegetables, meats include chicken and lamb.
Wednesday 9/27
We arrived in small town of Urgup at about 7:00 AM, and immediately hired a
taxi to take us to a hotel recommended by the Fodors book. Strike one for
Fodors. This place is a thirty minute walk from town, the toilet doesn't, we
have no hot water and the electricity just went out, all this at nearly twice
the price of other local hotels.
We spent the day touring the area North of Urgup, we hooked up with a local
tour company spending about $30.00 apiece. This turned out to be a good idea
enabling us to see a lot in a short amount of time. The tour guide was
knowledgeable and had a good sense of humor.
Not until we had paid for the tour did we come to realize that the only
group leaving that day had left fifteen minutes prior to our arrival at the
office. This did not seem to pose a problem as one of the office workers took
us on a white-knuckle ride through narrow streets and winding country roads to
catch up with the group which had stopped to look at some very unusual
geological formations.
Over the centuries two large volcanoes have coated the area surrounding
Urgup with a layer of volcanic tuff. In some places this soft volcanic ash is
hundreds of feet thick. Because the tuff is very soft it erodes quite easily,
wind and water have carved intricate sculptures resembling everything from a
camel to ice cream cone shaped towers known to the locals as fairy chimneys.
The tour group consisted of two female students from Germany, a couple from
Vancouver in the middle of an around the world vacation and two older snobs
from New York. By the way the older snob was yes dearing and showing off Mel
and I came to the conclusion that they were just married. They really lived up
to the pompous wealthy American stereotype and we did our best to keep some
distance.
After the fairy chimneys we stopped at the manmade caves near Zelve. These
caves were inhabited until the late fifties when the Turkish government forced
an evacuation due to landslides. Our guide hinted that this forced relocation
resulted in bloodshed. Zelve is very interesting because for hundreds of years
Muslims and Christians co-existed in peace practicing a sort of live and let
live lifestyle known as Sophism.
Our second stop was the town of Avanos which has over one hundred small
pottery shops. We visited one where the potter gave a demonstration, he even
coaxed Melony into giving it a try. Both Mel and really like the painted
plates, but I'm afraid that shipping then home would prove too risky.
From Avanos we went to the open air museum at Goreme (pronounce
gore-a-may). Here we toured entire domed churches which were carved into the
rock. Several of these churches were decorated with extensive frescoes, some
of which were destroyed by vandals and superstitious Muslims fearing the evil
eye.
The cave here are very interesting, sometimes they were inhabited by early
Christians hiding from the Romans until Constantine instituted Christianity as
the state religion in the fourth century. They were also inhabited by
religious Christians during the Iconoclastic period. The iconoclastic period
occurred during the middle to late eighth century. The Eastern Christian
church, centered in Constantinople, split from the Western church in Rome over
the issue of whether or not the presence of icons in the church itself
represented a form of idol worship. The Eastern church cleansed itself of
icons thereby sending all those who held these objects as sacred into hiding.
This is when the fish symbol representing Christianity cane into existence.
The people would draw that symbol on the palm of their hand as a way of
identifying themselves to people of like belief.
Later in the eleventh and twelfth centuries the local Cappadocains used
these manmade caves as hiding places from Arab raiders. During this period
numerous frescoes were painted on the walls and ceilings of the cave
cathedrals.
Tuesday 9/28/95
Against the urging of the package tour salesman, we decided to visit the
underground cities by ourselves. There are tow underground cities open to the
public; one at Kaymakli and on at Derinkuyu (pronounced Derin-a-q).
Even though it was further away, the site at Derinkuyu sounded more
interesting - so that's where we headed. We took a $0.30 bus ride to Neveshir,
from where we caught the $0.60 bus to the village of Derinukuyu. The bus
system here is excellent and we had no problems getting to this little out of
the way town. On the road we pass a Seljuk fortress perched above Neveshir and
numerous abandoned homes carved into steep rocky slopes. The view reminded me
of the Anazazi ruins of the Southwestern United States, I was frustrated by
not being able to take a photo.
Derinkuyu is a dusty little village which appears to have lost none of it's
charm to the tourist attraction lying just outside of town. The bus station
was at the extreme North end of town, while the underground city was the
extreme South. By traveling on our own Melony and I had the wonderful
experience of walking the streets of and ancient village without the constant
hassles of trinket salesmen and restaurateurs.
When we arrived at the souvenir shop and tour bus infested underground city
it was like stepping back into the twentieth century. The caves were
nearly empty of tourists, and we negotiated the confined tunnels with
relative ease.
There are some forty underground cities scattered around Cappadocia, their
origins can be traced back to 401 BC. During the seventh through the tenth
centuries the local Christian population was under siege from Arab raiders.
These early Christians used the caves as fortresses and hiding places.
Although only seven floors have been excavated it is believed that the site at
Derinukyu is over twenty stories deep.
Friday 9/29/95
The overnight bus arrived at the Antalya station 4:30 AM. We took our
chances with a pension peddler who put us into a taxi telling the driver
instructions to his hotel, the Bachus pansion. The place is nice, it has hot
water and is located near the old harbor, probably the only scenic part of
this big concrete gray city. The room costs $12.00 per night.
After a short nap and a shower we went about exploring the town of Antalya.
After breakfast we strolled along the waterfront park. Four shoeshine boys
tried to sell us on a shine even though we were both wearing sandals.
unfortunately we had become accustomed to Turkish manners and didn't notice
the brat sneaking us behind Mel.. The kid instantly ruined her sandals by
smearing some crappy cream on the suede uppers. Mel agreed to have her shoes
shined by the little monster, if he was going to ruin her shoes at least they
would be constantly ruined. However the little ass just spent about twenty
seconds on each sandal, managing, to our horror, to even make a bigger mess.
We bought these shoes during our trip to Glacier National Park earlier that
summer, we were disheartened to see them so callously ruined. To add insult to
injury the bastards demanded nearly $10.00 for the service, they were lucky to
get the $0.75.
Antalya itself has little to offer. Despite the pollution and dirty
concrete, the place is thick with Germans. The cheap bazaars, selling
everything from imitation Izod socks to battery operated barking dogs, were
especially infested. When the salesmen found out our nationality many asked
why so few Americans were visiting their country. This definitely seems to be
the case in Antalya, in two days we only met one other American, a solo
traveling woman from San Francisco. When the shop owners try to guess where
we're from they never say American, oddly enough Belgian seems to be the most
popular guess.
Mel and I cane across an interesting dilemma when we tried to use the cash
machine. I remember my identification code by the word it spells,
unfortunately none of the machines in Antalya have letters on the keypad. We
finally found a telephone in a store window which had the both letters and
numbers on the keys and were back n business. No matter how well you prepare
there's always something lurking to screw you up.
Antalya is a far cry form peaceful Cappadocia with farm families going to
the fields in wagons towed by Turkfiat tractors and young boys riding Minsk
motor scooters.
Saturday 9/30/95
Near Antalya lie three significant archeological sites; Termesos, Perge and
Aspendos. Traveling by bus and taxi we were able to see two; Termesos and
Perge.
We walked for our pension to the otogar (main bus terminal). We had no
problem finding the bus to Kurkuteli - the first leg of our journey to
Termesos.
The bus wasn't to leave for another forty five minutes so after buying some
water and oranges we waited in front of the bus company office. The buses here
are quite good and there are several major lines. According to the guidebooks
some line may be better than others for traveling between large cities, but
when into comes to going to small towns you take your chances.
Anyway, while we waited for the bus the resident ticket salesmen introduced
himself, making sure to point our that he was Kurdish. He went on to ask me
whether I was a Catholic or a Protestant. I was getting pretty nervous trying
to choose the correct answer. I took the safe road and replied that I was
undecided. His English was excellent and as the conversation wore on I became
more relaxed. I had him show me his home town on the bus station map, a small
town near the Syrian border. The guy turned out to be our guardian, he shoed
off bums and when we returned for the trip to Perge he helped us find the
right bus.
We boarded the bus to Kurkuteli and told the driver that we were headed for
Termesos. After about thirty minutes of outside of town the bus pulled over at
the sign marking the ruins. An Italian tourist, bearing a remarkable
resemblance to the actor Nicholas Cage, got off the bus with us. I asked him
if he wouldn't mind sharing the nine kilometer taxi ride to the ruins, he
replied through a proud accent, " I don't see why not." He went on
to give us advice by saying, "you have to watch these stupid people, they
are always trying to cheat tourists." With that bit of new knowledge we
stepped into one of the two waiting taxis.
We negotiated with the driver, a young smiling Turk, that he would take us
to the top and then return to take us back to the main road in two hours. The
Italian didn't have a watch so he asked the driver for his, which gladly gave
him. The job of a taxi driver along this road must be quite boring, I think
our driver was trying to add a little excitement to his job by continually
trying to break his nine kilometer speed record. Once at the Termesos parking
lot it was another ten minute hike up to the ruins. Termesos has been called
the "Eagles Nest" because of it's mountain top perch. The difficult
terrain provided a natural fortress for the city and it was never conquered.
Even Alexander the Great chose to bypass the formidable city.
The native people of Termesos were fierce warriors who called themselves
Solymans after Mt. Solymus which rises above the city. The most impressive
sight was the theater built into a shear cliff. A second impressive area was a
huge necropolis with hundreds of scarphagi littering the hillside. Some still
stood on level platforms, but most were toppled and broken.
Termesos was my first visit to the ruins of ancient Europe - it was
incredible.
From Termesos we returned to Antalya, enlisted the help of our Kurdish
friend and boarded the bus to Perge. This ruin was recommended by the Italian
guy we met earlier in the day.
We took the bus to the small town of Aksu, where we bought some fruit and
walked down a not so obvious dirt road leading to the site. We almost took a
wrong turn when a passing motorist, identifying us as tourists, put us back on
the right road.
The first thing that we saw was a large theater, this one was different
than the theater at Termesos in that it was free-standing, not built into a
hill. The architecture was impressing, the entire exterior was a checkerboard
of raised panel blocks. Unfortunately the theater had been closed off for what
the sign said were "conservation purposes." The Italian claimed to
have found a back way in, maybe through a hole in the fence. As foreign
visitors we took a more conservative stance and remained outside of the fence.
Perge is situated in the middle of arid, boulder infested rolling hills.
The scenery in not as dramatic as Termesos, bus what is lacks in scenery Perge
makes up for in grandeur.
Mel and I spent a lot of time examining the scattered piles of columns and
pedestals which fill the infield of the horseshoe-shaped coliseum. The
coliseum originally had a wall closing off the open end to protest spectators
from the wild animal fights and chariot races which once took place there. The
outside of the coliseum is line with dozens of sloping shop spaces with arched
entryways. The guidebook claims that the names of some shop owners can still
be visible carved into the ancient walls, we didn't see any names.
The remainder of Perge requires an entrance fee, it is well worth the
$2.00. Dozens of columns still stand in the market place and mosaic flooring
is still visible. A triple arched entrance gate and twin towers lead the way
to a long boulevard, the median of which is a trough which once flowed with
cooling water. Ruts made by the passing of thousands of chariots are still
visible in the stone roadway.
The site was generally quiet, only one German tour group roamed about. A
local shepherd sat on an carved stone block while his dog herded the flock
down the ancient street.
As dusk neared we made the slow walk back to Aksu, a local woman asked me
the time by pointing to my watch. After showing her the watch face she smiled
and walked away saying gale gale, meaning good-bye.
We arrived back in Antalya soon enough, however the bus driver ended his
run before reaching the familiar central bus station. We hooked up with an
American lady form San Francisco who seemed to know what was going on. We
flagged a dolmus and eventually found our way back to the old harbor.
That evening we ate a peaceful dinner near the pension. The restaurant was
under a large tree which grew out of the middle of the paved roadway.
Sunday 10/1/95
Melony and I have identified the following five items desired in a hotel
room:
- Hot water
- Toilet
- Towels
- Blanket
- Toilet paper
In Turkey shoot for three out of five.
We left the pension at about 8:00 AM, early by Turkish standard, and walked
to the bus station. I was glad to be leaving the big city grime of Antalya. We
ended up hitching a ride with a dolmus for the last mile.
The ride to Kas took about four hours, we wound along the coast pact
secluded coves and rocky cliffs. We rode on a smaller bus whit windows that
open, it is good to have some fresh air cut the cigarette haze. Much like a
nineteen seventies American, the driver had no problem throwing all manner of
litter out the window.
Once we arrived in Kas the pension boys couldn't even wait for us to get
off the bus, they met us as we came down the aisle. Arriving is a new town is
a foreign country after a four hour bus trip is disorienting enough with the
help of six adolescent boys crowding around you all saying "Hello my
friend. Do you have a pension?" We did trust on of the guys when we
arrived in Antalya at 4:30 in the morning, but normally I would recommend
having some places in mine and sticking to them. We have been using the Let's
Go book a reference for pensions, they seem to be adequate although
probably not the best buy for your money. The Fodors book seems to
cater to a more upscale (read expensive) crowd. Even though we don't have it,
other travelers seem to be happy with the budget accommodations recommended in
the Lonely Planet
We pushed our way through the hotel hockers and headed towards the
waterfront and our chosen accommodations, the Yali Pension. We quickly found
the Yali and took a room for 500,000 TL ($10.00), it had two of the five
essentials.
Although a bit touristy , Kas is a quiet, scenic seaside town. The town
seem to cater to the young backpackers as it has numerous small bars, each
playing 70's American rock. The town also has numerous shops which line
several picturesque Ottoman streets. There is a mixed bag of vendors, some are
the "Hello my friend type" while others act as though you are
inconveniencing them when you ask to buy something.
Mel bought a large pillow cover made from an old kilim. The price was
1,200,000 TL ($21.00), now we have samples of both styles of Turkish carpet
making.
On the outskirts of Kas lies an ancient theater facing the sea. We went
there at sunset to shoot some photos. We brought some red wine opened by a boy
tending a small corner grocery.
We had dinner at a restaurant noted in the Let's Go book, the food
was mediocre and the service sucked. We had desert on the pension terrace
facing the sea. the weather was cool and relaxing, eventually the wind picked
up and we retreated to our room.
We were both quite tired and barking dogs, diesel trucks, idling buses and
honking horns didn't keep us awake for long.
Monday 10/2
Mel woke up early because we intended to visit two remote ruins; Pinara and
Xanthos.
We started the day with breakfast at a seaside diner , then went shopping
in the market for lunch food; bread cheese and fruit.
The bus companies seemed a little confused at our request to go to Pinara,
we eventually got a bus bound for Fethiye. The road betwwen Kas and Kalkan
hugs the winding seacoast. About fifteen kilometers north of Kas is a
beautiful little beach formed at the mouth of a narrow canyon. There is
parking alongside the highway with a wooden stairway leading to the beach
below. The will be a good place to visit when we come back
The bus took a short rest a the town of Kalkan. The streets looked crowed
with tourists, but the town's location overlooking a sparkling blue cove
counteracted the string of cheap souvenir shops. I stepped out of the bus to
take some photos of the white mosque set against the blue water. Some guy came
up to em and asked what I was taking a picture of and state that the
government doesn't allow pictures to be taken here. I laughed and shrugged him
off thinking that he was only exhibiting that strange Turkish humor, like
asking 5,000,000TL for something that only costs 5000. Unfortunately he
maintained a serious look and kept saying, "pictures not free, not
free." I stated to get pissed and told him that I was getting on the bus,
and that I wasn't paying for anything. I was angry for a while, but it wore
off as the new scenery and new experiences took over.
From Kalkan we left the seacoast and headed towards an agricultural valley
bounded on the East and West by eroded mountain ranges. The bus stopped along
a deserted stretch of read and the conductor motioned to us that this was the
stop for Pinara. Mel and I were on the only passengers to step off. The bus
had stopped about 100 yards from the turnoff to the town nearest Pinara -
Minare. While we were walking to the turnoff a dolmus pulled up and dropped
off a solitary passenger. When we arrived at the turn to Minare we found that
the dolmus passenger, a Swiss tourist, had already arranged for a ride to town
in the back of a local's flatbed truck. We gladly accepted the invitation for
a ride, thereby saving us a eight kilometer walk to Minare.
As it turns out the gut with the truck owns a restaurant in town, so
naturally that's where he took us. We has some tea under a shade tree before
starting the four kilometer walk uphill to the ruins of Pinara. The restaurant
owner sent his dog to keep us company as we bushwhacked up the hill per his
instructions. Just as we were about to get worried we came across the well
used dirt road leading to the ruins.
The walk to Pinara revealed rocky hills with terraced fields and pastures
underneath bare craggy peaks. Just as the guidebook predicted, we found the
site custodian relaxing beneath a shade tree.
The three of us went directly to the well preserved theater. The Fodors
book stated that this theater is unique in that it has one of the best
preserved stage housed in all of Turkey and Greece. The theater itself was in
wonderful condition and the view for the top seats wonderfully peaceful, but
the remains of the stage house seemed less than impressive. Mel and I had a
lunch of wine, bread, cheese and fruit while our Swiss friend went to explore
and have a smoke.
Football-sized loaves of French bread are available all over Turkey for
about $0.20. The wine is also quite good, we bought a bottle of red from the
Doluca Vineyards for $1.75.
Pinara is a Lycean town and has many grave sites carved into the
surrounding hills. Some are just caves, many of which dot the huge rock
monolith just above the center of town. Others, most of which are quite
accessible, have elaborate frontal facades fashioned to resemble ancient
temples. The three of us B-lined across numerous tiered field to get a closer
look at some of the elaborately carved cave tombs.
Each cave was about two meters on a side, the contents of which had long
since been removed.
We continued on a trail past a large sarcophagus to the site of the main
city. Melony notice the unique heart-shaped columns at the ruins of the Temple
of Athena. At the central ruins we encountered several other tourists who
appeared to have driven to the site.
Mel and I left the Swiss traveler when we followed a sign pointing towards
a rough boulder strewn trail. The trail led us past several other cave tombs
which were accentuated by the autumn colors unleashed in he lonely forest. We
enjoyed the peace and quiet for a while, until a local man came by giving a
personal tour to a couple of German newlyweds. Soon we were back on the road
debating where or not we should walk into Minare to look for a taxi or just
walk the eight kilometers back to the highway. Mel was for walking, it was a
nice sunny day with a cool breeze so I was agreeable even though we would
probable arrive at the road too late too see Xanthos.
When we arrived at the road leading out of Minare the restaurateur offered
us a seat, we tried to decline gracefully by stating that we still wanted to
visit Xanthos while there was still daylight. Even though we gave him no
business he insisted on giving us a ride to the highway, we even stopped to
pick up a woman dressed in traditional car, who he drove past our drop-off.
The site of Pinara is omitted for the Let's Go book, probably
because of it's difficulty to reach by those confined to busses and dolmus. I
found the remoteness of the site to be its most appealing aspect, it gave us a
chance to meet local people and wander the countryside. The Swiss tourist also
mentioned a place very close to Pinara which he refereed to as Saklikent. He
described it as a picturesque valley bounded by near vertical canyon walls.
The restaurateur also gave this spot his sign of approval. We pulled out the
map and tried noted it to be near the ruins of Tlos. Mel thinks that Saklikent
may be the Butterfly Valley which was recommended to her by a person waiting
in front of her at the Thomas Cook currency exchange office in Bellevue.
We only waited about ten minutes for the dolmus to come by. The driver
dropped us off near Xanthos, a ten minute walk brought us to the ruins.
Xanthos is a particularly interesting town in that instead of surrendering
to a conquering army the solder killed all of the women and children, burned
the city and rushed headlong into certain death on the battlefield. Once all
the women and children were rounded up into a large building which was then
set aflame.
Xanthos had an impressive theater and two often photographed monolithic
blocks each housing a sarcophagi. We also wandered through some excavated
housed and baths, one building has extensive mosaics on the floor covered over
a thin layer of windblown sand. When I sat the first bit of mosaic flooring at
Perge I was amazed that it had survived for two thousand years, now ancient
mosaic floor were commonplace among the sites we visit.
A thrilling sunset bus ride along the winding coast put us back as Kas at
around 7:00 PM. We ate at an all you can eat place near the produce market.
Tuesday 10/3/95
The Swiss tourist we met at Pinara suggested that we should stay in the
small town of Dalyan instated of venturing to the big city grime of Boderum.
We accepted his advice and caught the first morning bus from Kas. The bus
didn't go directly to Dalyon, but instead went as far as Ortoga (pronounced
or-toe-ja) from where we continued by dolmus.
We shared the dolmus with an Australian named Bart and an American named
Greg, who was form Seattle. We would continue to bump into Greg for the
remainder of our trip. Greg and Bart talked us into following a lady they met
at the bus station to some unoccupied apartment buildings which were being
rented out as pensions. Since they has prior knowledge of the place we jumped
on the bandwagon.
The place was more spacious than we needed and it was about a ten minute
walk from town, but the price was right at 500,000 TL ($10.00) so didn't waste
any more time looking for a place to stay.
Mel was champing at the bit to hit the beach so we changed and walked into
town. Dalyon itself is not actually on the coast, but rather lies along a
river which meanders through several miles of reed marsh before dumping into
the Mediterranean.
We caught the inexpensive public boat for the forty five minute ride to the
beach. The driver navigated the boat through a web of channels cris-crossing
green reedbeds. On the distance rock walls we could see the carved Lycean
tombs similar to those at Pinara.
The Beach, supposedly the longest in Turkey is adequate as far as beaches
go, we had a relaxing afternoon.
Wed. 10/4/95
From Dalyon, Mel and I planned to travel to our final destination; the
Aegean town of Selcuk. Before we left Dalyon we tried to find the pension
manager who met us at the bus stop the day before in order to pay our bill.
Unable to find anything resembling a managers office we left 500,000 TL in the
room and walked into town for breakfast.
Since there was no direct bus from Dalyon to Selcuk we planned to travel by
dolmus to dusty town of Ortaca where we had reserved tickets on the 11:00 bus
to Selcuk. The late departure of our bus allowed for a leisurely morning, we
had a solitary breakfast at a local cafe promising waffles and filter coffee.
The smooth coffee was a welcome relief from the gritty Turkish coffee and
bitter instant coffee (Nescafe), my only previous options. The waiter brought
a cup for Mel also which meant a bonus for me. Mel's waffle smelled great, she
had to tell the waiter twice that she didn't want any ice cream on top, which
to me actually sounded like a tasty idea.
The three hour bus ride to Selcuk was the worst one yet, the combination of
winding roads, heat and cigarette smoke about made me pass out. Just before
arriving in town Mel and I followed our practiced routine of looking through
the Let's Go book for several good pensions. Top on our list was the
Karahan because they supposedly provide rides to the Samos ferry terminal and
to Ephesus.
Once again we were the only tourists getting off of the bus and the hotel
hockers surrounded us before we could even find our backpacks. When we
informed them that we intended to stay at the Karahan two of the hockers got
into a fist fight over who would escort us, and thereby get a commission for
selling a room. We made a quick exit in the direction of hotel, after about
one block a third hocker, taking advantage of the fight among his compadres,
circled in for the kill, and escorted us to the front door.
After waking up the owner, Smiley, we discovered that the Karahan was full
that evening, but that they were willing to direct us to another pension that
evening and that we could stay the following night. We probably would have
just permanently moved to another pension except for the fact that this one
looked really nice and more importantly the Karahan owner was willing to take
us to the Samos ferry terminal the next morning. Our cunning escort once again
led us to our temporary lodging, the place was bare bones but the owner was
nice and we were tired so we took the room.
This pension was very typical of what we saw in Turkey- clean, hard pillows
and an invisible manager. The Karahan on the other hand seemed to be a be-in
sight for backpackers, and was run by three very visible brothers. When we
returned to the Karahan later that evening to pay for the Samos ferry tickets
which we had reserved during our first visit, the younger brother, Jeff, took
us to the oldest brother's carpet and rug shop down the street. It turns out
that he owns a second rug shop in Seattle, we only stayed around long enough
to look at some pictures and to be asked if we could pick up two bottles of
Bacardi rum at the ferry terminal duty free shop. This request made us a
little uncomfortable and it was decided that we would just conveniently forget
to stop for the rum.
Thurs 10/5/95
We had agreed to be at the Karahan at 7:15 in order to catch the 8:30 ferry
to Samos. The front door at the Karahan was still locked at 7:15 but Jaff must
have heard us fiddling with the latch as he opened the door before we even
rang the bell. Smiley prepared me a typical Turkish breakfast of tomatoes,
olives cheese, boiled egg, bread, jam and coffee (Nescafe) before we drove the
ten miles to the ferry terminal at Kasadasi. We were running a little late as
Smiley pushed the peddle to the floor of his little Turkish sedan.
Once at the docks Smiley ran ahead and flagged down some guy standing among
the crowd who immediately asked for our passports and took off. Smiley
informed us that he would pick us up at 6:30 and too was gone. Once Mel and I
regained our senses we became quite concerned over the fact that we had just
given our passports over to some stranger, every minute seemed like an hour as
we stood among the crowd, concerned and confused. Within a couple of minutes
the guy returned with our passports and also gave us a boarding pass for the
ferry.
We shared the ferry with a group of partying Germans who opened their first
beers at 9:00 AM. The warm sun took the bite off of the cool morning sea
breeze as we made the ninety minute trip to Greece. While going through
customs in the town of Samos we were informed that we needed to take our
passports over to a tourist office and leave them there for the duration of
our stay, we could pick them back up when we got on the return boat. One of
the guide books mentioned that visitors from Turkey to Greece need to leave
their passports so this unusual request didn't come as a complete surprise.
We spent the morning prowling around the back alley shops followed up with
a traditional lunch of Greek salad and a Gryo sandwiches. Mel seemed to have
her heart set on renting a scooter and spending the afternoon exploring the
hilly green island. R3ealizing that there was nothing else to do for the next
four hours I reluctantly agreed. There is no shortage of motor scooters to be
rented on Samos, we went to a recognized name - Budget Rent a Car, just in
case the thing conks out leaving us stranded.
We took off along the winding road leading out of town past snow white
houses and olive trees. The poor little 50cc scooter was having trouble
hauling the two of us over some of the hills, but we managed to make it to the
end of the road - about five miles from town. On the way back the scooter
shrugged to a halt and died. Mel walked the rest of the way up a large hill
while I went ahead solo on the scooter. Feeling guilty I went back and gave
the bike to Mel while I jogged along behind.
We toured around for about three hours, checking out both the East and West
exits from town as well as some side streets, before finally returning the
scooter. The Budget Rent a Car office, like most of the surrounding
businesses, was closed when we arrived at 4:30. We returned the keys to the
bartender at the neighboring restaurant as instructed and hurried off to find
a bakery we had passed that morning. The Turks have great food, but the Greeks
certainly have topped them in the pastry department. We found the Bakery just
in time to return to the ferry docks at the instructed time of 6:15.
When we arrived at the docks we discovered that whoever was in charge of
holding the passports mixed them up between the two independent ferries
operating between Samos and Kusadasi. Even though both captains were adamant
about returning with the same passengers the ferries left on schedule. We
watched a beautiful sunset as we crossed the straits over to Turkey, Mel and I
stayed on deck to enjoy the show even though most passengers made the return
trip in the shelter of the cabin.
We spent thirty minutes in Kusadasi waiting for Smiley, the town is an ugly
trap for tour busses and cruise ships, thirty minutes was twenty nine too
long.
We ate dinner at the Ephisus cafe because it looked to be the most crowded.
The waiter convinced me to try the white fish - "maybe you like it, maybe
you don't. I don't know." The fish was good and at 300,000 TL it was most
expensive meal.
Friday 10/6/95
Well the big day had finally arrived, Ephisus. We woke up early and went
downstairs for breakfast at around 7:30. At the table were two older couples,
one from Vancouver, BC and one from Portland. Mel later made the accurate
observation that every American that we met had been for the West Coast. The
older of the two couples owned a furniture refinishing shop in Portland and
only planned to spend two days in Turkey, as the majority of their trip was
spent in the Greek isles. The second couple were on the start of a grand tour
of Turkey as part of a huge around the world itinerary. We enjoyed sharing our
experiences and survival tips.
Smiley showed up at 8:45, the gates at Ephisus had already been open for
fifteen minutes. Mel was visibly irritated, I just kept on reminding myself
yabashi yabashi - Turkish for slowly slowly We shared a ride with the couple
from Portland, Smiley offered to pick us up at 11:30, it took some time to
convince him that we wanted to spend more time at the site and could find our
own way home.
Fortunately we had beat the tour buses, after buying a rather humorously
worded guidebook we took off to take some pictures of the uncrowded ruins in
the low morning light. We were both battling sore throats and Melony now had a
full blown cold, she quickly grew tired of my shoot and run style. When we
reached the Odion tour busses were beginning to line up at the second
entrance. Tour groups, complete with whistle blowing guides and old ladies
carrying umbrellas to guard against the sun as if they were parasols, were
already massing at each point of interest. I must admit that I was impressed
by the Turkish guides who spoke Japanese, English, German and French interchangeably.
Mel and I made our way over to the Museum of the inscriptions in order to
make some rubbings with the pencils and sketch paper we had purchased in Samos.
Even though the museum which houses all of the well preserved inscriptions was
closed we were still able to find the word Ephes still carved deep into a
block of marble. We took our time making two rubbings, after which we planned
to retrace our steps, this time spending time to appreciate the splendor. When
we returned to the main colonnade we were both amazed to find the entire
marble street packed with tourists. As it was nearing 12:00 we decided to find
a place to have lunch and wait for the crowds to die down.
We had a peaceful lunch of cheese, bread and fruit under the trees near the
gymnasium. Time has reduced the gymnasium to a football sized field of carved
stones and toppled columns. We tried to form a mental picture of what the
building looked like by mentally placing together the broken foundation and
the toppled building blocks. Once again I was astounded by the sheer mass of
this architecture. From the gymnasium we headed to what I think is the most
impressive site at Ephisus - the 30,000 seat theater.
Even though it has been extensively restored the theater appears to have
withstood time fairly well. It seems that the worst enemy to these ancient
towns was not invading armies but instead the movement of the Earth's plates
beneath the highly seismic region. My theory as to why the theaters seem to be
so well preserved is because they were mostly built low into the side of
hills. The surrounding buildings, on the other hand were built high above the
surface of the Earth and dropped like dominoes during a quake.
From the theater we walked down the main colonnade leading to the library,
chariot grooves were still visible in the marble pavement. The large avenue
was complete with curbs and sidewalks. Halfway between the theater and the
library is an example of early advertisement. Carved into the sidewalk is an
outline of a foot and some Roman writing leading lonely pedestrians to the
brothel across the street.
Archeologists knew that they had found the brothel when they dug up a small
very well endowed statue. The actual statue is kept under glass at the Ephisus
museum in Selcuk, but a profile picture can be seen at every postcard counter
in Turkey.
The library is probably one of the most spectacular and often photographed
structures at Ephisus. Extensive restoration has brought back a glimpse of the
colonnaded entrance to what was actually quite a small building. Originally
squeezed between two other massive buildings the front of the library is built
smaller in the middle to give the illusion of depth when viewed head on. Three
well preserved statues still grace the entryway.
Several illustrated plaques mounted to the library's interior walls
describe how the massive building stones were quarried, transported and placed
one on top of the other. Another plaque describes the restoration efforts, I
was amazed at how much reinforced concrete was required to patch the whole
thing together.
We spent another two hours following the guidebook from site to site. Every
so often we would take a break in the shade and Mel would read several pages
out loud regarding the upcoming attractions. One of my most vivid memories is
the mosaic sidewalk probably over one hundred feet long.
At around two o’clock the noontime crowds had dispersed to do damage at
the bazaar in Kasadasi, Mel and I strolled down nearly empty streets. As we
were about to leave we met up with the Seattle guy who had helped us get a
room in Dalyan. His name was Gregg and we agreed to meet him at the Selcuk PTT
later that evening in order to chat and have dinner. He was traveling alone,
he had met up with Bart a few days before we met the two of them at Dalyon,
they had gone their separate ways the night before.
Ephisus is an important city in the history of Western civilization. For
centuries the Ephiseans worshiped the god Artimus, a sort of mother nature
god. When the apostle Paul visited the city and preached against the
worshipping of false images the idol makers incited a riot, Paul barely
escaped with his life. Most people who are familiar with the Bible know of
Ephisus from Paul’s letter to the Ephiseas which is one the books of the New
Testiment. A little known fact about Ephisus is that the Apostle Paul took
Mary, the Mother of Jesus, here to spend the final years of her life.
The fist Ecumenical council also met at Ephisus during the fourth century
to debate whether or not Jesus was the son of God when he walked on the Earth
of was simply a great prophet who became the son of god when he ascended form
the dead. The Western church, centered in Rome, won the debate declaring that
Jesus was born the son of God thereby making Mary the Mother of God - quite an
impressive title.
As we walked back to the main highway leading to Selcuk we nearly had to
fight off a guy wanting to give us a lift. We explained to him that we wanted
to walk in order to check out the huge thirty thousand seat arena, he could
hardly take no for an answer. As we neared the highway a little boy appeared
from behind a tree and tried to sell us an old coin. The opportunity was
tempting, but smuggling historical artifacts out of Turkey is on par with
smuggling drugs.
A quick dolmus ride put us back in town with enough time to get leaned up
before meeting Gregg for dinner. Ephisus is only a few kilometers from Selcuk,
and walking between the two is entirely possible. I think we would have opted
to walk if we had known about the tree lined trail paralleling the highway.
Saturday 10/7/95
Before the Westernization of Turkey by Mustafa Kemal Ataturk much of the
population outside of Istanbul relied on traveling butchers, blacksmiths and
salesmen who periodically set up shop in the local bazaar. Fortunately strip
malls and warehouse sized grocery stores have yet to reach Selcuk,and the
local citizenry still crowd the Saturday open market buying everything from
underwear to horse blankets.
Mel and I left the hotel at 7:00 hoping to beat the tourist crowds and get
some early morning photographs. The Turkish people and very colorful,
especially the woman, and seem to have no disagreement with having their
picture taken. I however, being intensely fearful of even the remotest chance
of conflict, chose to sneak pictures from a safe distance. Those whom I was
able to record on film must have thought me rather silly peering from behind
piles of shoeboxes, or employing my most practiced trick - after setting my
exposure on a nearby subject I quickly turn towards my unsuspecting target,
focus and shoot. More often than not this technique results in blurry, poorly
composed images. If I'm going to be successful at travel photography I must
find the courage to approach people with my camera. Obviously I returned to
Seattle with no fulfilling portraits.
During our stay in Istanbul I noticed a several street vendors selling a
type of lose cotton shirt with colorful designs woven with thick thread. I
decided that instead of carrying the shirt around in my already overcrowded
backpack I would wait until our final days in Turkey before purchasing a
souvenir shirt. Because they were available on nearly every street corner I
saw no fault with this strategy. Now it was nearly two weeks later and I had
yet to see another shirt of that type, I was getting desperate. I enlisted
Melony in the search, we became trained at the art of scanning a merchants
inventory without giving the impression that we were interested in buying
anything. Actually our technique wasn't that good and more often than not we
were confronted with the continual "yes please, yes please" of the
sidewalk salesmen. The Selcuk market was nearly our last chance to find the
coveted shirt, without it our trip would fall short of perfection, like a
wedding without flowers.
When we arrived many of the vendors were still stringing up tarps and
arranging their goods on makeshift tables or on blankets spread along the
street. We bought grapes, cucumbers and a palm granite, but no shirt. Melony
stopped to look at some jewelry sold by an round middle aged woman wearing a
traditional sirvar and a head scarf. We were painfully taught one lesson about
shopping in Turkey - never let the salesperson put anything in your hand, from
that point on the item is considered yours, the only question is at what
price. When she lowered the price to two hundred and fifty thousand Turkish
Lyra I showed a one million note, hoping that she would become flustered at
the prospect of making change for such a large note (about twenty dollars) and
set us free, a scenario played over and over again at nearly every monetary
exchange involving over ten dollars. As I was about to walk away avoiding the
sale, she enthusiastically said "make change make change" and pulled
out a fistful of Lyra. Defeated, we walked away with a five dollar onyx and
silver bracelet.
The bus system in Turkey is very easy to master, you just walk into the
parking lot of the otogar - the bus station and wait for some ticket peddler
to approach you - you won't have to wait long. Mel and I informed our helper
that we wanted to go to Didim, we intended to see the Temple of Apollo, he
pointed to a corner across the street where several people were standing. We
knew that there were no direct buses to Didim, and that we would need to first
get to Soke, from there we would travel by dolmus. We waited patiently,
attempting, and probably failing, to look like we were hardened travelers, no
assistance needed here thank you. After we passed on four buses we decided to
return to the bus station and put on the lost dog face. This time we got more
information, we needed the bus for Bodrum, we had just missed the 10:00, the
next one should be here around11:15. Maybe we hadn't mastered this system
after all.
Soke is a centuries old trading town, a supply center and base camp for the
traveling merchants. This town is all business, dusty streets lined with
overflowing shops, lumber, cloth, even Turkfiat tractors. While waiting at a
red light I stared through the van window at a sun cooked face smoking a hand
rolled cigarette through missing teeth. His features were sharp like those of
an American Indian, an orange bandana tied Arafat style, draped down the
middle of his back. His ancestors ruled this country, the thunder of their
horses drove civilizations into hiding, seeking refuge in caves and
underground cities.
From Soke we traveled forty minutes South to the hamlet of Didim. Along the
way we passed cotton fields filled with migrant workers cleaning the spiked
plants by hand. Women in head scarves drooped over the knee high crop as men
carried mattress-sized bales to waiting trucks.
While visiting the Ephisus Museum at Solcuk I saw a nomadic herders tent,
made of loosely woven black wool it had the floor space of the average
American bathroom. This tent could have been any one of the dozens we saw
lining the fields, the homes of nomads desperately clinging for survival.
Didim was a dirty little tourist town, making the most of it's one
attraction - the Temple of Apollo. Built on the same scale as the Parthinon,
the Temple of Apollo was one of three colossal Helenistic structures built
along the Agean Coast. It's companions to the North; the Temple of Artemis at
Ephisus and the Temple of Hera on Samos have never been found. Only a handful
of the huge fluted columns remain, it was like stepping onto a forest of old
growth Douglas Firs after spending days among tree farms. A bas-relief Medussa
head stands at the entrance gate, I recognized it from the cover of the guide
book we had left at home.
After returning to Soke we caught a late afternoon ride to Priene. A ten
minute walk from the bus stop took us to the entrance to the ancient city. We
city is situated on a bluff overlooking a valley of cotton fields, through the
middle of which winds the Meander river. We hurried among the ruins having
arrived only one hour before closing. The toppled remains of fluted columns
were spread among the grassy fields like th cogs and gears of some huge
machine. The theater and much of the stage house remained intact, complete
with four front row thrones - box seats of ancient Greece.
That evening we returned to the Ephisus cafe. We were now well known by
both the waiter and the owner, they both seems more than a little disappointed
when I didn't try the fish.
Sunday 10/8/95 - Monday 10/9/95
Twelve hours by bus to Istanbul, twenty four hours by plane to Seattle Jeff
and Teri waited an hour for us at the airport, Scott met us at home so we
wouldn't return to a dark house.