Day two in Cappadocia: Exploring the underground

Day two, my compatriots had decided to go dawn air ballooning. I, in a fit of romanticism, decided to save air ballooning for another day . . . thinking that it might be nice to have a few things up my sleeve to look forward to. But, nobody said I couldn't get up and watch, so at 5:15am my alarm went off, and I was off trekking up the hill to find a good location to hopefully watch my friends come over the horizon, bringing the morning sun with them. Three large stray dogs decided to accompany me, and I warily enjoyed their presence, so long as they kept their distance.  Not only did my friends arrive (I presume--it was hard to see more than large patterns on the balloons) . . . but dozens of balloons filled the sky, lit pink with early morning rays. Mount Erciyes also looked beautiful, pale purple in the distance.

After sitting on the hilltop, enjoying the dawn, I decided to go back to the fancy hotel, have a bubble bath and a nap before my friends arrived back for breakfast. This is definitely the most swanky place I've stayed in so far, and probably will stay in for many years. Cut into the hillside, it was partially cave dwelling and partially beautiful new hotel designed to match the stone of the original portions. With a massive bed, and dark wood furniture, all to myself, I felt like a princess. I even wore those ridiculous slippers you get.

After my friends returned, and we had a lovely breakfast on the terrace, we had more sightseeing to do. With only two days to pack all of this into, there was very little time to just sit, so breakfast was pretty special. And we were off, exploring a valley that had been used for raising pigeons. The pigeon houses are cut into the rock faces in massive numbers, and were raised as a source of food and fertilizer. Some roosts are still maintained, but with the rise of mass production of chemical fertilizers, many have since been abandoned. The hike was lovely, although a little hot, and with the sky an incredible blue, there were beautiful contrasts against the rock outcrops. As usual, we stopped for tea, sitting under the shade of a rock wall, on beautifully coloured cushions.

After exploring the outside, it was on to my favourite experience in Cappadocia. The underground cities. While talked about as cities, they were actually most likely used as short-term (a month?) shelters during moments of invasion, warfare, and strife. Passageways twisted and turned, and the only link to above ground were these narrow vertical shafts, aerating the vast network of tunnels. The "city" that we went to was called Kaymakli, and our guide informed us that it is probable that the Hittites first dug out caves here at about 1200BC. However, our lovely guide tended to talk in couched terms, using "in my opinion" far more often than made me comfortable. Perhaps something to read up on. There was some consensus on the main use and time period of these caves, however, being used by Christians to escape the Arab invasions in the 7th and 8th centuries.

On our tour we went down four levels of chambers and tunnels before re-emerging. There are 8 floors dug into the ground, but tourists only have access to the top four. We got to see living quarters, cooking areas, storage rooms, an air shaft, and many many passageways. Katie, Michelle, and I enjoyed being the young'uns on this tour (unusual for us these days), and may or may not have gotten into "trouble" for being slow, wandering off, giggling, and taking too many pictures. The tour was a mite frustrating at this stage, because I would have enjoyed spending much more time at this location, and felt quite rushed and constrained by the group. Recommendation: do this tour on your own, or with a private tour guide who can give you the personalized experience you wish for.

As usual, on the way out of a tour, they lead you past the shops. One last opportunity to buy scarfs or jewellery or carvings or those ever-present Turkish Evil Eyes (they call them this, but they're really to ward off evil spirits, however they kind of creep me out). There was even an Evil Eye tree.

One last look out over the city, and we were finished with our tour and off to the airport.

And then we were on the plane, whirlwind over. Back to France for me, and on to the States for my friends. What a great trip. Thanks, Katie and Michelle (and Steve!).

ps. Skaar, have you emailed that hot air balloon guide yet? :)

Exploring Cappadocia with former residents of 806C.

After Mandy and Figo's lovely wedding, I joined Katie and Michelle in a two-day adventure exploring Cappadocia. The three of us are a good trio . . . at some time each of us lived in 806c in Eastern Market in DC, and they both went to High School with Mandy in Minnesota. Michelle's dad runs a travel agency, so suffice to say we got a great deal on a tour (thanks, Steve!). My first legitimate tour on this trip, it was nice to leave all of the sticky details in another's hands.

On arrival, it was go go go. We got a taste of the amazing rock formations, Katie "riding the camel" and then we were off wandering around the fairy chimneys, which look more like mushrooms to me.

 We toured a pottery-making family business, and got to try our hand at throwing a pot (although highly supervised). There was even a little sing-a-long/dance party with some of the workers. I toyed with not leaving, and staying to learn the family business. They gave me their card and told me if I wanted to come back and work with them (starting as someone who coloured in others' designs), I was more than welcome. Hmmmm.

We then went off to another area cut into the hillsides with a plethora of ancient churches and dwellings. The early christian cave art was really interesting to see. Unfortunately there will be no photographs of those here, as in order to preserve the paintings, no photography was allowed.

And, leaving the tour for the night, we went and explored the city around where we were staying, climbing a hill to look out over a beautiful sunset, while sipping our cups of tea.

There also may have been a little clowning around.

I want to be an archaeologist: Çatalhöyük

It was time to leave Istanbul, so I took a tram to a ferry to a train, which was to take me all the way across to the middle of the country to a city called Konya, the home of Rumi and the whirling dervishes. Like so many of the other buildings of stature in Istanbul, the train station was beautiful.

As I travelled across the country, miming conversation with two lovely women who clearly wanted to chat, the landscape changed dramatically. Will, I even started to imagine your Lawrence here and there. It was so beautiful, and so vast. In attempting to mime that I was going to a friend's wedding, I think I mistakenly gave the two lovely women the idea that I myself was getting married, as they seemed to get incredibly excited for me. Ah well. Lost in translation as usual.

For the first time that I can remember (I must have done this before somewhere, or sometime?) I dined in the dining car (with the only other foreigners on the train), eating a pretty awful breakfast (except for the tea and the olives, mmm...), but making friends with the wait staff. It was pretty empty, so they were quite bored and kept me company. If there's one thing I have to say about Turkey, it's that the people are lovely. So many moments of connection across cultures and languages.

And that brings me to Konya. As I said above, Konya is most well-known as being the home of Rumi, the 13th century Persian religious philosopher and poet, and the birthplace of the tradition of the whirling dervishes. Unlike Istanbul, it seems it is actually quite hard to see the whirling dervishes here, because the city mostly remains free of tourism. There's a week-long festival held in December, or it seems Saturday nights you may see them, but not on other days in general. I was there on a Thursday, so for me, they remain something of the imagination. Konya is known as one of the most religiously and socially conservative locations in Turkey, however, with a tradition rooted in the teaching's of Rumi, which pushed for personal development and religious devotion, but love and acceptance of all people no matter their personal beliefs, or failings, the people here were the most lovely I met anywhere on my travels.

The whole purpose for traveling to Konya was not to learn about Rumi, however nice a byproduct that was, but to see Çatalhöyük, the archaeological site of one of the world's first semi-planned cities. Çatalhöyük was operational as a city from 7500 BC to 5700 BC. Craziness. The area would have been a really good site for early agricultural practices, allowing the evolution of a city. Archaeologists first worked on this site in the 60s, and then it was reopened for work in the 1990s under the archaeologist, Ian Hodder. One of the interesting things about Çatalhöyük is that there seemed to be no distinction between men and women and their place within society. The early excavations of the site produced a lot of literature that talked about the site as one of a matriarchy, or at the very least one that venerated a mother goddess/Venus figure. Newer excavations have debated that, but regardless of the outcome, it's very interesting to think of these different societies and the places of men and women within them.

I first learned about Çatalhöyük in my archaeology classes at Otago, and it was somewhat of a whim that brought me here. In order to get out to Çatalhöyük from Konya I had to take a taxi, almost an hour away. My taxi driver, Ebrahim, was lovely. Between us he could say "thank you" and I could say the same in Turkish, "Teşekkür" My excuse is that I can no longer add any more languages into my brain, and have sacrificed these other learning opportunities in order to preserve whatever French I can possibly retain. I only have so many language braincells. On the way out of town, he stopped and bought bread, cheese, olives, and water. When we arrived at the site, he, saying "thank you" in different tones and with gestures, conveyed that I was welcome to have lunch with him. In the middle of the dirt road, he laid out a table cloth (no other cars passed in the whole time we were there), and we took off our shoes and sat, eating our bread and cheese, and those tasty, tasty olives (variously alternating thanking each other in each other's respective language). He also requested that I take this photograph of him.

After lunch, it was finally time to explore the site. Excitement brewing, I paused over each artifact in the small museum, and peered into the research labs, piled high with bones and artifacts.

The reconstructed model habitat was beautiful, simple, and had my imagination working in overtime. One of the interesting things about this city, was that buildings were built on top of each other in a haphazard grid pattern. I haven't ever been to Cairo, but it feels reminiscent to that which I know and have seen in the media about Cairo's slums.

I was the only tourist at the site. There was a small classroom of local children (about 8 of them), doing artworks on outdoor tables in the style of the people from that time. Being the only tourist, I got a personal tour, and realized quickly that this was still very much a working, functioning, archaeological site. The staff was on hand excavating, preserving wall paintings, sifting detritus, injecting some kind of liquid into load-bearing walls, using surveying equipment, and drawing sketches. There were small tags with numbers throughout the site, clearly marking interesting finds too minute or technical for me to distinguish as a layperson. I had a lovely talk with one of the archaeologists, who informed me that amongst their very international staff, there were four illustrators. This news made me start with grand ideas and excitement. Sometime in the future I want to work on one of these sites, whether as general grunt and dirt-sifter, or illustrator . . . that was my decision, there amongst the dust, sweating in 40 degree celsius weather, amongst men with shirts more stained than not, sporting 2-month-long beards. An appealing idea only to a certain kind of person, I think.

On my way out of this lovely city, in an effort to find the tram to the bus station (I was on my way to the capital, Ankara), I had yet another example of human kindness. An elderly woman, fully dressed in covering clothing and a hijab (me in my inappropriate jeans and t-shirt all ready for travel, hefting my hiking pack around) clearly could see I was unsure of where I was going. Between my minimal Turkish knowledge of the word "Otogar" -- or bus station, and repeating "tram", which I believe is the same, or a similar word, in Turkish, she figured out where I was trying to get to. Instead of trying to point me in that direction, she took my hand, and physically walked me to the tram stop, then talked to the driver and told him where I wanted to go and asked him (I think) to tell me when to get off. Not only that, but the tram driver refused payment, and when I looked terribly confused, a local man with some English language skills informed me that the tram was free for tourists. I'll always have a fondness in my heart for Konya, and am interested to read some more Rumi. Fascinating culture.

Gosh, this is a long post. I'd better let you all go and get on with your lives! Till the next time (Mandy and Figo wedding photos to come)!
-Mary