The adventures of J9 and Frankie
Part 3
It ís me back from the Middle East and all set to enthrall you all with these wonderful tales of my travels.!
Well, if you thought the last one was long (if you can remember it, it was so long ago!) well ...... I’m writing this bit in Denmark before I’ve started and I can only imagine that this is going to go on for a number of pages so grab yourself a cup of tea, a glass of red, or whatever other substance you may require to get you through the night, and without further ado ...
June/July 96
Last I wrote (har har ... only about 12 months ago) I was heading off to Mrs McNeiles to be a carer. That was a really challenging but rewarding experience. She was 83 with Parkinsons disease and basically in need of help with everything except eating. We would lift her in and out of bed, help her wash, toilet and move around.
Normally these tasks would be quite straight forward, but we also had to provide the same sort of care for her pet stuffed elephant Missy. A very fussy, stubborn, manipulative little tart.
It was going to take a while to get into the good books - you know trying to build a trusting relationship. But bowing and scraping to Missy’s every need wasn’t rating too high up the acceptable scale (mind you dropping Missy on her head on day two didnít help things on Mrs McNeile’s acceptable scale much) but fortunately our game playing came down to a minimum after the first week and we got along relatively well after that.
On the whole the experience opened my eyes because I’ve never really had any contact with elderly people. I really had to stop and think about what it must be like for her, so unwell and dependent on care, losing her right mind, knowing she was losing her mind during her more sane moments, and basically just sitting out her time until she died.
I enjoyed exploring another side of me anyway, and felt like I’d really provided her with the best care she’d had while I was there.
So my spare time in Dorset and the use of their car got me out and about around the countryside - one of the most beautiful parts of England. Typical English winding lanes, meadows, cottages. Kim came down for one day ..and we toddled over to Stonehenge and down to the coast.
After that I spent a couple of weeks in London working for my Temp company and organising my trip to Turkey. Yes .. it was the best formulated project plan you’d ever seen ... 2 weeks to figure out where I was going to live (until I left), book my ticket, get my visas, oh! get my passport, get my innoculations, book definately into the work camp ... etc etc etc, all whilst working full time during the day.
Ange and I had chatted and decided a middle eastern jaunt was the plan, so I managed to find an open jaw ticket which flew into Istanbul and out of Cairo pretty cheap and flexible within 12 mnths (given I had no idea how long I was going for and am extremely prone to chanaging my mind!). What was also amusing was at the time of booking my trip, I knew where Istanbul was and where Cario was, but had absolutley no idea that Syria, Jordan, Lebanon and Israel lay in between!
August
Istanbul. What an absolutely fantastic city! Itís so full of character. Itís built around the Bosphorous and is quite hilly. The Mosques fill the horizon with their minarets, there are people selling anything and everything on street stalls, the women happily go about their shopping covered in very villagey clothing from neck to ankles and wrists. They were brightly coloured scarves on their hair. The call to prayer booms from the minarets 5 times a day and really adds to the feel of the city. Too many sights smells and sounds to go on with here.
I’d signed up for a volunteer work camp in the south of Turkey in a place called Taskale (Tushkahlie). We had a 3 day orientation in Istanbul before we left and I met some great people. Unfortunately the ones I really gelled with were going off to another camp! But, we had an interesting bunch for our camp. 9 of us, 2 Turkish guys, 3 Palestinian guys, 4 Japanese (3 girls and 1 guy) and moi!
Well before I hed us off to Taskale, we spent some time in Istanbul, doing tours of the traditional tourust sites but one of the most memorable was when our two Turkish camp leaders took us to this hidden bar on the 3rd story in Taksim. It was cosy and welcoming, and a group of people were singing and playing these stringed insturments (like guitars but not quite). This woman was singing with such ferocity, and the facial expressiosn were so anguished, I asked my friend what she was singing. He explained that they were Kurdish, and were singing songs of Freedom and identity (in Kurdish). Apparently if they had been caught they would have been arrested. I wish I could rememerhis name .... but he translated the words for me, and they were so empassioned! The words and hte way they were sung really portrayed a sense of identity and absolute patriality to their people. Geesh.
The Kurdish have a strong presence in the southeast of Turkey, and at the time there was quite a bit of uprising for independence.
Very touchy issue amongst both parties.
Well after sad farewells to volunteers going off to another camp, we all boarded our bus for Taskale.
The Otogar (bus station) has to be seen to be believed, and I was thankful that our leader Tolga had done all the organising for my first encounter with this establihsment. Mayhem.
At least 50 bus operators all hassle you to catch their buses, and if you can haggle hard, you get bloody good deals! (I subsequently learned the art and well impressed Ange to start with!). That’s inside the station, get outside to literally a hundred odd buses lined up and touts haggling just as hard outside to get you into theri bus before it departs.....
Tonight was even more mayhem... gruops of people had gathered and were chanting and singing.
From the bus window, these young men were being circled around and thrown into the air to huge cheers. The Turkish flag was everywhere.
Two of the boys got on the bus, looking awfully scared and emotional, but trying their hardest o put on a brave face.
They were off for their two years of army service. Compulsory for all Turkish men.
xxx
Well after hearing Wassim’s life story and all about his death wish (he’s Palestinian, and, no, he’s not planning a suicide bombing, but wants to try again to kill himself on his motor bike after his girlfried died in a crash on some other guy’s motor bike four years ago). He was crazy and very fucked up. Times like that I’m very glad of the ability to sleep anywhere any time, and for very long periods of time. I must have slept ten hours of the thirteen that we were on there!
And then we were there!
Taskale was just how I imagined it would be .... a dusty village of mud/clay boxy houses with a green, fertile stream below and surrounded by arid desert cliffs. Really villagey, and so basic, but lovely.
It wasn’t howver, what everyone else had imagined, and the rest of them (Wassim in particular) looked around with relative horror at where we would be spending the next two weeks. No night clubs nor beaches ....oh no.
We met the Mayor of the village and his family at the town’s only restaurant, for lunch and again that evening!. A wonderful outdoor area beneath trees next to a running stream where they farmed trout. We were treated to not one but two freshly grilled trout and salata (very mediterranean/provincial salad of tomatos, onions and olives with viniagrette) and a genuine challenge of communicating with 5 people that couldn’t speak a word of English! Fortunately we had two Turkish guys on our camp who could translate.
Our assignment was to build the foundations for a teachers lodgings and a playground for the children. Each day when we went off to work the kids would follow us up the road and then perch themselves on the wall above where we were working and watch. They were so impatient when we were building the playground which they all really loved when it was finished!
We were film stars one day when the TV crew came from the neighbouring town (Karaman) to make a documentary on us and we all got to go into the studio a few days later and watch it. It was really funny, because after it was actually screened, we had people coming up to us in the street motioning that theyíd seen us on TV!
All the women in the town would be working in their homes kneeling on the floor.. day in day out knotting carpets. WHAT THEY WORE ...They loved having us in to see what they did and show us how they did it! Their young babies would be by their sides, and they would snack on cucumbers and sunflower seeds. There was a real bond between the women.
The people were wonderful. Turkish people are warm and welcoming. We were often invited in for cay (tea).
Either this or apple tea are served in tiny glasses whilst seated cross legged on cushions and Turkish Carpets.
The Turkish are renown for ther hospitality.
***
Half way through our two week camp we all got to go to the beach! The Mayor gave us a driver and the old beaten up coach and we set off for Cuzcalesi, a Turkish holiday spot on the Mediterranean (3 - 4 hours drive away). There was an island complete with a ruined Castle just off shore (I should know which period it is from but I donít have my Lonely Planet with me at the moment! Probably the Byzantines from the 9th Century???). The brave of us swam over and had some fun exploring the ruins.
That evening we were all at a restaurant. Turkish have this wonderful tradition of splashing lemon scented cologne at you, particularly at the end of a meal to freshen up, on buses to keep you going on long journeys, and anywhere else they feel the need.
Well, I put my hands out for the waiter to splash me and instantly I regretted it because I had numerous cuts on my hand and man did they hurt so with a huge and aghast look on my face I held up my hand and started exclaiming rather loudly and in high pitch.....ahh ahh ah ahh ahh ahh ahh ... then it dawned on me .. not only had the whole of my table stopped what they were doing and looked at me, so had all the other people in the restaurant it was like something from When Harry Met Sally! But this experience was far from orgasmic. ho hum. I lowered my eyes rather embarrassed and hoped everyone would go back to what they were doing.
Next thing the waiter comes over with a huge grin on his face and asks me if Iíd like some more!
Back at Taskale our last week went pretty uneventfully. I’d really enjoyed getting to know the Japanese girls that I was sharing the room with. They are really friendly and polite! I was particularly sad to say goodbye to Kae. weíd gotten along really well.
***
Our project over I was due to meet Ange in Istanbul in a few days (a 13 hour bus ride away). So I went to Konya nearby in Central Anatolia (the south), the home of the Whirling Dervishes. I visited the Mevlana Museum (he was this guy who would welcome all people whatever their religion for common worship of God). Unfortunately I didnít get to see the Dervishes in action .. which is meant to be an incredible spectacle of intense whirling ... I was a bit disappointed because I figured I wouldn’t get to see it anywhere else.
Then I toddled over to Cappadocia to see a friend in Urgup for a couple of days. This is an incredible place with an amazing landscape with caves and fairy chimneys. It was quite timely because I had the worst case of runs Iíve ever had in my life ... and being stubborn as I am Iíd refused to take antibiotics on day 1 because my natural defenses were GOING to fight it off ...
By day 3 when I had hardly any energy left to walk I decided that perhaps I should go to the doctor.
3 hours, a 1 litre salt water/antibiotics solution intravenously later .. I felt like a new woman! Raring to go out for a drink in a cave bar with the friendly Doctor who had just fixed me up! Har har.
So, I toddled onto my night bus armed with supplies: Turkish chocolate, corn chips, water, and got to sit next to this luvly (but rather plump) Turkish woman. She gave me fresh sunflower seeds (you pick them straight off the flower) and some Grapes. Then she scoffed at my attempt to sew up Frankie’s wound and kindly took over for me! I must say Frankie was well impressed with that one as now she doesn’t have a gaping ugly scar.
The only drawback with sitting next to this very kind woman was the size of her rear end, being trapped between the window and her made sleeping for 10 hours on the bus rather tricky. I made it though, having been offered refreshments, splashed several times with lemon scented cologne, choked on cigarette smoke and tantalized by the Turkish top 10 blaring through the speakers. phew bus travel in Turkey is more than just an experience it is an institution.
It is at this time that you start to realise that it’s not such a good idea to sit in the front of the bus. Why? Because at least if you were at the back you would be oblivious to the driver’s (and consequently your own) numerous scrapes wth death!
The bus drivers continually overtake on blind corners and pull out in front of on-coming traffic!
How does the bus driver feel that he can deal with such situations and still be guaranteed of living?
Just honk your horn constantly (yes they play those rediculously hideous tunes) and grin candidly at your co-driver.
After all you will only die in Turkey if it is inshallah, i.e. if it is the will of Allah (God).
Boys and their toys....
It all brought back memories of Morocco rather vividly!.
But if considering an alternative to bus travel, i.e. a taxi driven by a crazy Turkish guy, or hiring your own car and negotiating several crazy Turkish drivers The buses won out. Being such an institution as they are, drivers must have the biggest, bestest, most modern and sleek machine on the road, with the best service you could possibly find. Hey, you get plush comfortable seats, lots of leg room, cay, cola, cakes, cologne and if youíre lucky and smile sweetly at the co-driver when he’s making a coffee for the driver, he might even make you one too! You even get a proposal for marriage if youíre lucky. What more could you ask for?
***
Oops I digressed a tad.
I made it back to Istanbul in one piece at about 6.30 am and set about finding my way to the airport to surprise Ange.
Itís been 3 weeks in Turkey for me now and I knew Istanbul a bit from my first visit.
It took a metro ride, a lost aimless walk and some garbled Turkish directions to find the bus (I was starting to pick up a bit of the lingo) and I made it with about half an hour to spare.
Well, when we met we stood and talked for about an hour over our bags right next to the exchange office! Then we talked and talked and talked our whole bus ride and metro trip down to Sultanhamet where we were planning to find accommodation. Talking so much, we missed our first stop.
We decided to try and focus on our immediate accommodation requirements and put our catching up on hold so we sat on a bench to contemplate our Lonely Planet. Not really feeling satisfied we gave up after 15 minutes and decided just to wander around and see if we could find a pension.
We headed up this cobbled street, quiet and shady and passed a carpet shop. Keeping our eyes low and a look on our faces that said “no we don-t want to buy a carpet” we thought we were going to slink buy unnoticed. Nope. A friendly looking guy asked us if we were looking for somewhere to stay. Oh! You have somewhere to stay? That wasn’t quite the question we were expecting to hear. We looked at each other and figured we might as well have a look. Up some stairs he showed us into a lovely little dorm room (4 beds) with sun streaming though the window looking over the street.
How much?
500,000 Lire
Knowing from talking to other travellers that that was the going rate for Istanbul, we took it. That is $A7 per night.
We were happy little vegemites. A really nice little place to stay and no tromping all over Istanbul with packs trying to haggle and find something clean and decent!
Mehmet was the owner of the shop and the pension and said we were to treat it as our home, and that we were welcome to join him in his shop for cay or apple tea whenever we wanted.
We were a bit guarded at first, we figured the tea would be nice but how long would it take for the hard sell?
We were pleasantly surprised anyway, as he obviously puts backpackers (and guest ones at that) in a separate category and is very happy just to chat and drink tea.
So we’re sitting down drinking cay and whose familiar giggle should I hear from the next room? ARRRGGHHH. Itís Kae from the work camp! We both hugged each other and laughed so much at the coincidence that everyone was looking at us very strangely! It turned out that she was sleeping in the bed next to mine!
We felt so at home there that we stayed for 5 days! One night we went out to cheer at Mehmetís midnight soccer match half way over the other side of town! Iíd also met up with Tolga from the work camp that day too so he came and ended up being their star player! That was a crazy but really fun night. I think we must have been the loudest cheer squad theyíd ever had!
Oh my goodness ... it’s now August, and I can’t believe how detailed that all was .... if I try to recount my whole travels to the same degree i’ll be here forever. But I want to write them all up .... and this time it’s more for my benefir that for an audience ... so it’ll get quite boring.
Sights in Istanbul? Topkapi Palace, the home of the Sultan’s during the Ottoman Empire’s reign (ended about 1914 I think, and at one stage extended all the way down to Egypt and across to Greece).
Aya Sofya, the most incredible piece of architecture you’ll see next to St Peter’s in Rome (apparently). The dome is humongous and was an amazing feat for it’s time because it had no poles for support. I thik it had somethingt o do with thelight weight building mateirals they used and of course higly developed architectureal skills!... but now it’s been slightly rebuilt and they’ve had to reinforceit. Uselsess information I know, but the whole thing is so inspiring? no, awesome! The stained glass was incredible too.
It was a church back in Christian times, then when Islam became predominant, it was turned into a Mosque, with these HUGE circular signs on 4 sides displaying huge arabic scripts.
Now it’s a museum, with consequently no religious alignment.
The Blue Mosque is just down the road, and that’s a gorgeous example of modern islamic architecture. Once again, imposing minarets and huge dome, but it was amaizng to see the differenc ein architecture, and the use of many more supporting structures inside.
Oh my god, if I ever thought i’d give this long a commentary on the design of a builidng I would have vomitted.
Ok Ok. ... one last hting. We went to the Basilica Cistern. Huge undderground reservoir built by the Romans. It was so cool, cos when they drained the waters out, all the (very Roman very inspiring circular) columns that had been used to support the thing were revealed, and were actually bits of several old buildings from around Istanbul. Consequently they all had differnet patternss, and one really cool one had a huge sculpture of Medusa’s head on it, upside down at its base.
It realy brought home how much effort they used to put into their structures!
So much time, but you never get bored looking around, because you find things hidden everyewhere. (Its like that in London, everywhere you look there’s little sculuptured animals peering at at you, or intricate foliage, or or, bare bottoms or facial expressions showing anything from anguish, pomp and ceremony, to happiness).
Ahem.
It’s funny though beduase a lot of these thoughts and observations I’ve only sort of had on reflection because I’ve been so more open and interested in the architecure around London, I wish I’d paid more attention when I was in Istanbul now.
Oh well.
Ok OK.
I’m at work now, actually inside a building where Oscar Wilde used to rent an apartment, overlooking the Strand and a hotel on the otherside of the road. There’s two Rams Heads looking very sternly down onto the road, and some sort of crest carved into the side of the building.
Go down to the Thames to the pub flating on the river, and you go past lots of luber lipped fish ogling at you from the poles! Oh and don’t forget the Egyptian figures in wrought iron on the park benches ....
I’m getting awfully sidetracked here ...
back to Istanbul.
Oh .. OH .. Oh... we caught a boat trip up the Boshporuous to the Black Sea, we bought grilled fish rolls with fresh chilli and salad in gorgeous freshly baked turkish bread from the punts on the river, ate freshly grilled sweet corn from vendors on the side of the road, ate a cup of pickled veggies that they sell inside stalls, accosted a guy with a huge silver drink urn on his shoulder for a cup of cordial, oh and ate numerous kebabs from anywehre andeverywhere.
Actuallly on the topic of food, my most favourite turkish food is something callled Dolma. It basically jsut means stuffed, but you get either aubergine, tomato or capsicum stuffed with a yummy onion spiced rice mix. All sort of stewed in a tomato sauce thing. Delicious.
OH and Turkish breakfasts would have to be one of the highlights of our days ... huge pile of freshly baked turkihs bread, fetta cheese, fresh juicy sweet delicious tomatoes, a boiled egg, and fresh olives ..... not to mention the honey and jam if you wanted some sweet stuff... i’m dribbling just thinking about it now. All washed down with cay of course.
Phew.
We decided that the next place to be visted had to be the mountains over in the east, on the Black Sea Coast. This definately got to exercise the haggle skills and the
Turkish I’dmanagedto acquire. Mind you, knowing how to speak some of the lingo definately helped to sweet talk the operators, all Turkish are delighted if you are foreign and can speak tot hem inTurkish!
We managed to bargain the price of our 18 hour bus trip down from 3 million lire to 1.5 million (about $20). Not bad really.
We stopped in Trabzon next morning, which was really strange, as it’s quite close to Georgia, one of the Russian States, and consequently it receives many Russians over for the weekend, buying and prostituting themselves. .... conseuqelty there were stores selling fur coats, and those huge woolly looking russian boot things! AND of cousre, half of the wriitng was in Russian, and there was an awful lot of vodka for sale.
We were’t real impressed with the place (funy because laterw e met Margi and Kon on a bus on their way to Trabzon, and they ended up loving it).
Well ... we went the next day to Sumela Monastery. Incredbile. About a two hour drive into the mountains, absolutely overflowing with rushing waters and dense forest. We climbed into the mountains, to reveal a Greek monastery from about the 1920s built totally off the side of the mountain. It was fabulous, and there’s frescoes all over the ruins, from any one of three periods. Obviously all depicting the biblical stories. We had a great fossick around there, and managed to strike up a fonversation with the guy on the bus. He must have been surprised that we had shown so much interest, so we got a free guided tour!
Back down to Trabzon, we spent the night (phoned home, and discovered Michele was pregnant with her second bubs!) ready to set off early the next morning to head even further east and inland to Ayder, nestled at the foot of the Cackar (that’s “cutch car”) mountain range. Before we got there though we had a run in with the owner of the hotel, who we had expressly agreed the price with the night before, and who then decided it was double that when we went to pay. Even though we had repeated the price they quoted in every which way at the outset to ensure there was no confusion. Hmm.
We ended up arguing, standing our ground and leaving the amount we’d agreed to give him. He threw it back in disgust, so we walked out.
We both felt really bad, not sure whether we should stand our ground thinking he was putting on a standard prformance, or if there had been a genuine misunderstanding.
So we sought refuge in the local McDonalds (yeah sometimes it’s something you just have to do), contemplated our encounter over a McChicken burger, then left. Deciding that we should have stuck our ground, but maybe offered to meet him half way.
On our way down to get the bus, he was standing near his hotel waiting for us. We offered our compromise, explained it was genuine misunderstanding, and he seemed happy with that. We were stilll wondering whether he’d taken us for a ride... but decided that for the difference in money it meant to us, we’d rather give him the benefit of hte doubt rather than give us backpackers an even scummier reputation than we already have (more on that and our typical Aussie counterparts later ...).
Well today, it was raining. We discovered that to get towhere wewere goingwouldnotinvolve a big bus, but several minibuses called Dolmus’ (That’s “Dolmoosh”). Haggling once again is thename oft he game, and is particularly easy if there’s two competing services within earshot of each other ...
As usual, we were either herded onto the back on our owh, or at worst, put with other women. Men and women only ever sit together if htere’s no other seats, and tourists always get shoved int eh back unless there’s nowehre else! Minimises any distrction for either partty!
So, squished into the back, we got ejected about one leg short of our destination. POURING with rain.
These guys outside the bus were shaking their heads and flatly deying that there were any buses to Ayder today ad that we’d definately hae to take a taxi. Harhar. heard that one before.
We happened upon a friendly looking guy, and enquired, and he said ahhhh come with me come with me... running, drowned with our packs, we were offered shelterer in this little hut in the middle of the highway. We were offered cay and a seat, and had many smiling men aroundus. All ery interested in our map and where we were going. It was a lovely little encounter, we gave them some of our lollies, and they soon ushered us out into the dolmus, whihc would take us right to Ayder.
Wow.... we left the coast, and the numerous tea plantatios, andheaded intot he mountains. Soon they began to tower around us, and we were both absolutely ecstatic. We both love the mountains.
We got off, and who should happen upon us, but this funny looking little man (about 60), in a wet weather jacket, very weatherd face, with knickerbockers on and some well worn looking boots, grey hair and straggly lookiing beard.
He invited us to look at his Pension, and we followed. Mohammed was his name.
Well, we arrived to this pokey but homely little mountain cabin, with an open fire, some rickety stairs up to the A-frame roof, where there were foru bedrooms. A lovely little kitchen, and a hot pot of cay on the stove.
How could we refuse? We were welcomed by a giggle (or I could even say cackle!) from a a lovely Turkish woman called Sevinc (that’s Savinch) also a guest, and a tall, young good looking Turkish man called Cengiz (that’s Jengis).
Anyway. They welcomed us in for dinner. They were having fresh trout and salad. We protested saying that we had no food with us and we woul dneed to get some, and they protested and said that we could all share, if we shared our food next day ... etc etc...
Next thing we know, we’re all feeling full and content, and Mohammed got out his Kemence (that’s Kimenche), like a very thin violin, but you hold it neck up and sit the bottom near your knee. They sang heaps of Turkish songs for us, and we clapped along. It was just lovely! One of the songs they played was claled Cannakale (That’s Chunahkahlee), whcih is the place near Gelibolu (Gallipoli). It was written by a Turkish soldier who was protesting about the senslessness and loss of the whole situation. Very moving. I started to learn how to sing it.
Next thing, we got into some western songs, and armed with Mohammed’s recorder, I managed to play a few familiar tunes, much to everyone’s delight!
We all went for a walk down tot he river under the stars. It was absolutely gorgeous to be in the fresh clear mountain air.
We were looking forward ot a walk in the moutnains the next day.
We got up, and the three of them were all milling around, organising a traditional turkish breakfast and cay over a table outside next to the river. There was a little servery that opened up off the side of the kitchen.
We all stuffed ourselves, and had a lovely time. Before setting off for a walk. Mohammed is like a moutnain man, he knows those hills like the back of his hand.
We went for a very light meander, having gotten such a late start to the day ... walked for about an hour, then plonked ourselves in the grass for an hour and had a snooz!
The great thing around these parts is the whole different tribe of mountain people. They wear really traditioal dress, with these vibrant head sacarves, and thesemetallic looking discs hanging around their forehead. They have akindof band that sits over their scarf. It’s a bit strange.
They’re called Hamsin (Hemshin) people. Ange and I were stunned this day, because we saw three of these women in a valley, roping these absolutely huge logs to their backs ... we’re talking probably 3/4 metre in diameter? Huge solid round things, and then they set off with them up the side of the mountain, which must have been at about a 45 degree angle! E Gad. The women in Turkey work so hard. Largely the men just sit around all bloody day in tea houses drinking cay. It gives you the shits.
However, actually in this instance, the men seemed to work fairly hard too, in the fields.
So ... itwas a lovely day. But we found that hardly any of them would look at us, or smile, or acknowledge us. They spoke with Mohammed, but not with us.
Actually, they ahve their own separate language again, and that was largely the reason why Cevinc was visiting. She was trying to learn the language, but kept exclaiming about how difficult it was!
Well, that night, we treated ourselves to another almost orgasmic experience, and went ot the local Hammam (Turkishbath). This oneis particularly wonderful as it is sourced from a natural hot spring, and has like a swimming pool of hot water (inside). Next to that are the traditional bathing ummm, ot cubicles, but .. recesses, where you sit in a big open room, with a big dish bowl and a big ceramic basin that you just slooshlot of hot water over you.
It was lovely.
Particularly as the mountains were sooooo cold. There was snow on the caps, and the mountain cabin was rather chilly... so being engulfed in the warm waters at the baths was just heavan.
So, back to the cabin, we had anotehr yummy meal, and bedded down ready for our long walkthe nextday.
We got up and it was raining.
Very heavily.
Sevinc and the other guy woossed out, but Ange and I were not to be deterred.
So Mohammed and the two of us set off, with our thermals and our rain jackets, goretex lined boots ....
It was lovely. We were climbing probablyu halfan hour, when this mini bus drove up the road. It slowed down and this young looking woman hung out the window and said ‘excuse me, do any of you speak english?’ We chorused yes of ocurse ... and we hstarted chatting. She wanted to know hwere we were going, and asked us to join them.
Her whle family plus some friends were out for the day, and were driing up toa little village on the top of the moutnains. It turned out she was Turkish, learning to be an English teacher! She was 21 and very strong willed. Very lovely too. So we got in and had a lovely chat with them all.
We got to the top and went inside to have a yummy lunch and tea with them. We swapped addressed, ad she insisted that if we went back thorugh Ordu on the black sea coast to look her up and we could stay. Cool we thought.
So then the three of us set out on our walk. By now it is snowing! We climbed way up to the peak, and saw three lakes. Very cold, and very white.
By now it was getting quite late ... so we hurried back down the mountain back to the little villlage to warm up a bit and have some tea.
We also polished off hte last of our chocolate.
We then had to face the task of waling all the way back down tot he pension. We’d already walked about four our five hours that day, and we’d driven most of the way up, which took probably the better pat of an hour.
Hmmmm.
It was just starting to get dark.
Fortunatly we just had to follow the road the whole way, but we were all very wet and very cold. Even with our thermals and polar fleeced.
It took us three hours to get back, and it was about 10 o clock when we got back. Ange had gone into nervous energy mode, and couldn’t be stopped, but was getting bitterly cold. Me on the otehrhad was glowing and buzzing completely, feeling very toasty.
The otehr two rushed out of the cabin with looks of distress on their faces and immediatly started telling us off for being so late,. They’d been worried.
We warmed up in front of the fire, drank some tea.
Ange went to bed, but I was still on super top gear.
When I did go to bed though, I found Ange in a not too good state at all. I had to get into her sleeping bag to warm her up. She was almost blue.
The next day I had a very triumphant encounter.
I was perched on a rock just over the road from the Pension, testing out my watercolours.. I had a few cows for company, and I smiled and waed at the locals as they passed. They smiled back.
Well Ange came over and we walked up the road a bit, and I started to feel feint. We were oging mushroomhunting with some Israeli people we’d met. I had to stop because I wasn’t feeling too well.
Anyway, this Turkish man came along. It was so cool, because we both greeted each otehr in Turkish, and asked how the other was, we both responded. He then asked me where Mohammed was, and I replied! In Turkish! He made some comment to which I responded and then we said oru goodbyes!
Even though I’d exhausted almost my whole turkish vocabulary in that one small exchange, It went fluently from beginning to end, and then it stopped. It was so cool! I had a huge grin on my face an I couldn’t get over it for days.
However, my glory was short lived as I had to dash back to the cabin as I was feeling so feint and sick. I got the cold shivers, and had to curl myself up in bed. I then managed to throw up everywehre and feel very sorry formyself. I spent the resto f th day in bed, bit cold, and flushed. Everyone was worried about me, and Ange and Sevinch looked afer me really well.
I think I must have had a mixture of altitude sickness and over exhaustion!. Stupid me.
Mind you the walk that day was still worth it because it was so spectacular.
Well one more day in the mountains and we decide di twas time to leave our little faimily. We were all very sad to say goodbye.
Pity we had another run in over how much it should all cost. But I don’t want to ruin kmy good memory of the whle thing by hashig it up agin.
So, waiting for the dolmus to take us back to Trabzon and then Ordu, we spied a very curious looking couple of young travellers. Both English, one tall skinny gangley guy wih thinning hair, and knickerbockers, and one very tall, red headed woman wearing two inch Berkinstock heels ...
Both had back packs of course.
We were all herded into the back of the bus, as all travellers are, and got chatting... as you do. We all bonded immediately and couldn’t stop talking for ages ....
The locals kept looking oer ther shoulders disapprovingly and at one point one of them turnedaround and strunly went shhshhhh ...
To this we all turned into little scohol kids, bowed our heads ad starting smirking and gigling uncontrollably. Much to the evenr more anoyance of the turkish people!
har har .. I think itmust have been becuase we reacheed a crscendo about what food we missed, and it was ange and I wining over tim tam withdrawals... Kon knew what we wer talking about bqacause of his austrlian flat mate.
We all stopped midway along the route where we had to get off one dolmus and catch another one. In the mean time we decided to find a loo and get some breakfast together. Even though margi and Kon had been to Trukey three times, I managed to introduce them to something they’d never tried ... Borek. Anoether turkish delight (if you’ll excuse the pun). This light pastry sort of stuff, but it’s soft not cruncy, and it’s baked with fetta cheese and spices and is absolutely delish.
We then said our fond farewells, and got on our separate buses, after they both enthusiastically invited us to stay when we were in London next.
Ange and I both exclaimed to each other at how it was our first sight of a backpacker in high heels ... .
she wore them bloody well too! Very Margi.
So. ... we set off for Ordu, to vist Feliz. Ange and I were feeling very proud of the fact that of her two weeks and my five, we’d mixed with other travellers so rarely,a nd had largely only had any time spent with Turksih people.. which is just the way we wanted it.
We were excited about the prospet of staying with Feliz, as we’d actually get to say in someone’s home.
harh ar.
I thik she was quite starteld that we called. A few garbled noises with her hand over the receiver, and she said she’d come and pick us up, and take us to find a hotel.
Oops! I think us Australians are rather unique ... because if we ivite someone or say we’ll do something we generally mean it and will deliver on our promises. ...
A lot of peoplehave habits of saying things they ahve absolutely no intention of honouring.
Well .. that’s a bit harsh. Feliz metus and was so glad to see us. We mjanagedto find hotel that was owned by one of her friens, on the beach, and they got us to stay there for free! They were so chuffed to have foreigners because that area really only sees turkish people, as it’s so far away.
Anyway. We went out ofr a meal, and got whisekd around by two men she was with, who were lawyers working for her father. They were well keen on the two of us.
Funny how when Feliz had left, and we asked to be taken back to our hotel, their Eglish got quite bad, and they tried to pull a swifite o directions! WE’dstrted driving towardds the hotel (we always took careful notice of where we were going), and noticed the land marks Felizhad been giveing us the commentary on along the way.
next thinghe turns into a different street and ends up going back wehre we came from for dinner ..
Ange and I laughed at each other and started saying... Oh! gee that’s Felize’s old school isn’t it J9? Yeah Ange, and isn’t that the place where Feliz’s father works? Hmm funny that. Gee I could have sworn the hotel was THAT way.
They got the hint, and took us home safe and sound. Have to give them full points for triying though!
We had alovely sleep, and then went for a swim in the Black sea in the morning. All the turkish people were exclaiming athow could it would be and not to go, but it was gorgeous. Guess they’re not used to swimming in antarctic tides!
Har har. Well, we spent the day in Ordu with Feliz, and then booked our ticket to Ankara, the capital, wehre we had to go to get our Syrian visas. We rolled up in the mornigk, and met umerous other Austrlians at the australian embassy getting their letters of introduction, which the Sytrian embassy insisted we have for a visa. So, we got that before ten am, and tanked it over to the Syrian embassy, only to discoverit was closed after 11. So we all resigned oursevles to a nightin Ankara and set about findin ga hotel. Ange and I wond the day with our map reading skills, and astounded the rest of them that you could actually get a local bus and pay 20 cents rather than pay $5 ot £10 for a taxi. Geesh.
We followed where the bus was going on the map, and knew whne to get off near the hotel district.
We haggled a good price at the hotel, and set off to do some exploring
We split up from the rest of them and thought we’d try find an internet cafe. Didn’t have much success, but we asked an innocent looking student who was onhis way to register, and he siad he’d see if he could get us on to one in his univeristy. So we got a guided tour of the campus at Ankara University, got some good insights into education and job prspects. But mostly we were intrigued at the trendiness of them all, all immaculately dressed in very western clothes, noted at the prevalence of young smokers,and how much coca cola they drank!
Then we left.
(I'm not sure where the rest of this went!! I'll have to dig out the paper copy and see if it is complete ... i used to type these up and print them out and mail them to people ... and i found this on disk somewhere somehow!) ....
xx
