Mt.Nerut

Apologies for the gap in time between the first and second blog. I had written the second quite a while ago but had no chance to post it until I had arrived in Syria due to lack of internet access.

Well as I explained in the last blog myself, Chloe and Quentin decided to go climb Mt. Nerut with our new friend Alberto we met in Goreme. We travelled by bus to Kayseri bus terminal. Realising we had approximately 10 hours to kill until our connection to Kahta we took a bus into Kayseri centre (we were about 20 minutes outside). On the bus we met a local business man who dealt in carpets (you probably know where this is going!). He showed us around the Mosque, bartered on our behalf for a new pair of hiking shoes for Chloe in the Bazaar, showed us round the castle and told us about the history of the town. He then suggested we go for tea (very common in Turkey). He took us to a small dirty old building and led us up the stairs to an unassuming office rammed to the rafters with the oldest and finest Turkish carpets. He informed us that this was his wholesale office where he conducts his businesses (ranging from shops to hotels) however his passion was old high quality Turkish carpets and told us of all the countries where he had visited and the individual towns and cities. We talked for the next few hours and we indeed learnt a great deal about carpets; techniques, tribes, mistakes and symbols. Only once did he suggest we should purchase a carpet like the ones he had shown us and he would give it to us near cost price as we had livened up his afternoon. We replied that we would have nowhere to put it and we sat back down to more tea and travel discussion. He then recommended us a restaurant where we all enjoyed a delicious local speciality; Isklander kebab (donner meat, fried dough balls, tomato sauce and melted butter- my cardiologist’s recommendation).

We headed back to the station late in the evening and slept on the bus (don’t think I’ve mentioned this but all Turkish bus services bring round complimentary tea, coffee, water, snacks, Orange juice and are exceptionally clean; quite a change to the British Megabus).

The next morning we arrived in Khata where upon we took a cab ride to our hotel in the sleepy village of Karadut. The family run Kurdish pansion was welcoming, if a little cold. We decided that with the weather as good as it was we should attempt to summit that day rather than wait for the weather to possibly turn the next day. The host took us as far as the road was cleared of snow where upon he gave us directions on the route. We started out on the trek on the caterpillared (a tracked vehicle specifically designed for snow) track which was firm snow underfoot and made walking easy. The tracks then stopped and we were left trudging through snow more than 6 feet deep (your shoes sink about a foot until they compact enough snow and everyone follows the leaders tracks); everyone’s shoes were rather inadequate to say the least and by the time we reached the final stop our feet were close to completely numb from the shin down. We continued nevertheless stopping for breaks to take in the views and rehydrate. We continued on for about 3 hours using the nearly fully submerged road signs for directions until we reached a deserted building about a hundred meters short of the summit used in the summer for the tourists to pay entry fees, buy souvenirs and consume a cold one. We searched briefly for the heads we had come to see however gave up after it became clear the incredibly strong wind we had faced (one struggled to stand up at times and from experience of sticking my head out the window I would estimate about 50 mph) had caused snow drifts which had submerged all of them; the heads are stone sculptures and are the only things remaining of huge statues that were once on the Mountain top but over time had been eroded away. Descending down the mountain the light started to fade and we were presented with a marvellous sunset (picture will be up on Picasa shortly). We reached the same spot where the host dropped us off with our head torches on where we met him completely exhausted and frozen! After a short ride back to the hotel and changing into some fresh clothes he took us back to his house. We all sat round the large central circular fire place (very common in Turkey) and ate with family. The meal was sort of tapas style with each person been given bowls consisting of chicken curry, stuffed vine leaves, rice, salad, fresh hot bread and mango chutney all washed down with fresh goats milk. Truly delicious food and a totally unique experience!! We returned back to the hotel for a truly well deserved night’s sleep. The next day we were treated once again to a Turkish breakfast (they generally consisted of a small omelette, cucumber and tomato slices, olives and a portion of feta like cheese) then left to Karadut. Quentin and Chloe jumped off half way there to take a minibus to a small town whose name I have forgot then catch a ferry across to another town whose name I have also forgotten. After saying our farewells Alberto and I continued onto Karadut then onto Antakya. We stayed a night in a small hotel next to the coach station (extremely grubby but convenient) then took a bus the next morning to Aleppo were I currently am now, with Alberto, but that’s for the next blog, hope you liked this one!

Ps. It’s been a couple of weeks since I have written this blog (wasn’t able to post it due to internet access being fairly shoddy) and am no longer in Aleppo and have travelled round the country a fair bit. There will be no blog post on my activities in Syria (I have basically written it and promise you it’s a good’un) till I’m in India, will explain there. Please bare with the forthcoming drought of posts my loyal readers until Im in Jordan where the blog will resume about my activities there.

Cappadocia Road Trip

Firstly I must mention how much a pain these two blogs have been to post. The Turkish Government seems to be hell bent on preventing people looking at blogs, but they are ok with people posting them. Very strange indeed. Also as some of you are aware it’s been a perpetual nightmare to select photos to go on the blog then to upload them, so I’ve given up and given you access to all of them! Just on a different site. The link is

https://picasaweb.google.com/118032793268399376378

So from now on, unless anything changes, words on the blog, photos on Picasa Web albums, simples! I’ll try to update both at the same time. Furthermore I know that all the photos are a bit of a jumble chronologically, it’s the cameras fault and I have changed the settings so it should make more sense hopefully... Furthermore I know I haven’t really edited the photos (i.e. cropped, lightened and deleted the duplicates and rubbish etc). This is due to time and effort...it takes ages and isn’t fun!!!

Last time I wrote I mentioned that I was going to the bus station to catch an overnighter to Cappadocia (actually this is the name of the province; we actually arrived in the main village of Goreme). Anyway on the way to the bus station I took a minivan and on route met Quentin (a Belgian architect). Anyway on discovering that we were both going to the same place for the next part of our respective travels he suggested that we should do a 7 day hike around the mountainous area. Having no other plans and fancying myself as a bit of a mountaineer I duly jumped at the idea. We both stayed at the Rock Valley Pansion (a kind of nice hostel come hotel) that night to discuss plans for the trip. Then upon looking at the route and discussing it with the very nice South African hostess we both decided that it would make more sense to hire motorbikes and make a road trip of it. The next day we visited the hire shop and agreed a very reasonable price for the bikes for the next day by which time we had added Chloe (American now ex-art director for Brookes Brothers) to our group. Then, by recommendation of the hostess the three of us chose to go by bus to Zelve open air museum. As we had already gathered by the views from the pansion, Cappadocia is the home of rock houses (see Picasa). These houses are dug into strange conical shaped 30+m high spires or into the side of the cliffs of the valleys. Zelve which was inhabited no less than 50 years ago (bear in mind people still live in these sorts of houses everywhere in Cappadocia province to this day) and was quite stunning. The various tunnels which we explored with our head torches were quite stunning and also great fun to enter into one side of a valley and emerge on the other, extremely disorientating! We then chose to continue round the side of the valley to the mushroom valley, where the conical rock features had formed (as you guessed it) mushroom like structures owing to the differing levels of hardness of the rock strata. We then proceeded to climb the local mountain (whose name I don’t know) and then descend down into a small village where we had dinner before returning to our village of Gerome.

The next day the temperature was much colder so we negotiated the hiring of a car instead of the bikes, wise decision! We started our trip in high spirits visiting the villages of Urgup and Mustafapasa and their respective rock houses and other structures. We then visited a rock monastery near Ayvali. We then continued on to a small village of Mazi upon recommendation of the hostess. A truly brilliant idea. The small sleepy village laid claim to one of the largest underground cities in the world being able to hold up to 10,000 people in relative comfort. It was built in the Byzantine period and was a major tourist attraction until they decided to “close it” to the public due to erosion and degradation of the passages and caves. Upon arriving in the village we found a man who offered to show us round for 70 Lira. After paying the bloke we then were given a guided tour of the caves and passages including a rather comic event where he told us to wait in a small area whilst he went away. He then called us through a tunnel. As we walked through this small passage two hands descended from the roof of the passage and grabbed Quentin who was following me. He was truly terrified and shocked. The guide informed us that this was used in times of war to spear invaders. We then were hooked up to a rather worn looking rope and dodgy harness as we ascended approximately 15metres to another level, Chloe with her handbag and rather inappropriate shows was obviously concerned but we all made it up safe. His knowledge of the various areas in the city was outstanding from the horse paddock to the churches and jail, this place truly was a city with all things necessary for life, including obviously its own wine making facility!  After several more ascents and descents through the various levels (to which we gathered there were about 10) of the city we emerged significantly higher up the side of the mountain (completely disorientated). The guide then proceeded to direct us to the top of the mountain where the Byzantines had carved tombs and graves of varying sizes into the volcanic rock. After spending more time looking around at the top we descended back to the car and continued on to Derinkuyu where we consumed lunch at a local cafe. Whilst extremely spicy, the lunch consisting of pied (Turkish flat pizza), was filing and delicious. After stopping for petrol we arrived at Guzelyurt. We then proceeded to look for accommodation around the town. We stopped at one place which offered us 100lira for the night, thinking this was too high Quentin continued to drives us on down an ever narrowing street until we could go no further (T junction with right a flight of stairs and left an even more narrowing street. Quentin then struggled to reverse the car backwards and so a group of locals then helped us reverse the car backwards until it became a community activity and what seemed like half the town had showed up to see this man and his group of helpers reverse the foreigners car! I only wish I hadn’t left my camera in my bag at this time as it was quite a spectacle!

We then found some accommodation nearby for 80 lira and settled down for the night with a cold beer to relieve the days stress and exhaustion. The morning came and after a short stroll to get breakfast we decided we would to visit a monastery and a valley nearby then proceed onto the Ihlara valley. After descending a steep hill into the valley and paying 3 lira we visited the underground city (which was much the same as Mazi) and then proceeded onto the monastery in the car. We stopped just short of the path to the monastery which was set into the cliff face slightly further up the valley. During the ascent to the monastery it started to snow, heavily... We continued on to the monastery which was beautiful with intricate wall paintings of early Christian saints, truly beautiful. On the way back to the car our concern grew for the impending return to the main road; the initial part was primarily off road and bumping with a few small hills and then the subsequent paved steep hill was of particular concern. The drive to the steep hill whilst hairy was manageable however as we were climbing the main hill we found a man in the middle of the road (muppet) we gently swerved to avoid him but we lost all momentum we had built up and began to slide back down. Quentin stuck it in reverse and gently eased it back giving up and hoping that the weather would soon abate and we would be able to continue. At one point during the manoeuvre the car nudged the curb and no matter what he was able to do he was unable to square the car up with the road. He got out the car to inspect the curb and discuss our next move with me and Chloe (we had tried, in vain, to push the car up the hill). Within a few seconds the car started to slide back on the snow. Quentin jumped back as it was sliding and managed to control the car as the back right wheel bounced off the curb. Under control he was able to continue reversing it down to a safe spot on the hill where we had bought our tickets. The man in the office feeling some sort of misplaced responsibility/ sympathy for our plight took us in the office and gave us hot tea as he made a call. Half an hour later a smartly dressed man turned up with respectable English. He informed us that he would drive the car around the hill through narrow streets. Having seen previous amazing Turkish driving skills in the alleyway we placed our faith in him and handed over the keys. In the car he informed us he was the local Imam (Muslim version of a priest or Rabbi). Turns out too that he had the skills of Colin McRae!! The car darted in-between houses and walls, round sharp bends and up steep slopes all at some speed. At one point the back end hit a snow drift and he coolly performed a sort of drift (Scandinavian flick I am told) round this bend to straighten up the car. We reached the top of Guzelyurt and he attempted to do a 3 point turn. Frustrated with the lack of progress on the icy hill and the lack of grip he hit the handbrake, stuck it in first and pivoted the car on the rear wheels (front wheel drive shitty Renault) to face the correct direction. Amazed and ever so slightly in shock at seeing a man of God perform these unbelievable driving techniques we thanked him profusely.

We then abandoned our plan to visit the Ihlara valley afterwards as we drove along the road to it noticing we had to descend a steep icy hill longer and scarier than the one we had failed on and so we headed straight for Gerome. Rather pleased with ourselves we settled down to a chicken kebab, Baklava and a cold one!!

Well what a road trip!! Where to next I hear you shout; I, Quentin and Chloe are going to Mt. Nerut with a new Argentine called Alberto. Hope you enjoyed the 1,844 word monster blog.  Hamish

Istanbul

Well here I am, finally got packed, organised, prepped and left London Luton to Istanbul on Saturday 27^th February. I arrived in Istanbul in fairly drab weather with the pilot informing us that it was exactly the same conditions as when we had left London...not what I was expecting at all! After an hour longer transfer to the hostel, which in itself was fairly hairy, I quickly settled into the flow of things and went out to dinner with a fellow group of travellers at a local (in terms of its relative location to our hostel rather than authenticity of its cuisine) restaurant. I had Kofte el shabab  aka sausages and chips, ethnic? Think not... Anyway the company was outstanding for one can always be assured a flowing conservation with such nationalities as Canadian, American, French, German, English and Argentina!

The next day I went with an English girl called Rebecca to a number of sites around Istanbul. We started at the blue mosque which was exceedingly impressive from the outside, six minarets, a large dome and covered in a stone of a light blue, yet seemed to let itself down inside just being rather bland. However this is the case in most mosques I gather to prevent any distractions from worship of god. We then took a tram to the Galata tower. Whilst not the highest tower I have ascended, probably about 50m or so, we had great views of Istanbul. However whilst the visual vantage point was acceptable, the acoustic vantage point was something else as we managed to luck out in arriving at precisely the right time for one of the 5 daily calls to prayer. Whilst obviously normal in a Muslim city like this, to which one quickly becomes accustomed to (even at 6 in the morning), at the top of the Galata tower we were treated to not just the calls of the local mosque but to the hundreds of individual mosques which dot the landscape and their echoes which all merged into a incomprehensible chorus. Quite an amazing site! We then had lunch in a small cafe in which Rebecca understandably felt slightly uncomfortable at the start being the only woman subjected to the piercing gazes of the fellow male dinners until a group of female tourists walked in (shared the blame so to speak). We then tried to visit the modern art museum however twas closed on a Monday so ventured onto the spice market, neither of us particularly needed spices at the time so made our way back to the hostel for another dinner then Karaoke! The next day along with a Argentine named Balouti visited the Hagia Sofia, which was arguably the most interesting of the attractions in Istanbul at over 1000 years old and having formally been a church then a Mosque. Its internal structure was something to behold unlike that of the blue mosque. Next we visited the Tokapi palace which was “just” a site of former Kings. Galleries of diamonds, gold and other precious stones were of particular interest as were the various Pavilions or as we would call them, over the top summer houses.

The following day myself, Balouti, Rebecca and Darway (an American traveller) took a boat cruise down the Bosporus strait lunching on the Asian side and exploring the quaint town which if heavily reliant on the daily cruise stopping at its shores for tourist revenue was still very pretty. We hiked up a small hill to visit the fortress that looked across the strait, however were saddened to find that the internal structure was closed off for archaeological excavations (bloody academics). We still enjoyed the views and the external structure of the castle before returning to the boat.

After visiting several other tourist sites such as the Grand Bazaar and the Hagia Sofia mausoleums I felt I had “seen” Istanbul so I chose upon recommendation of fellow travellers to go see my current residence Pamukkale. An overnight bus and an in depth conversation with a 40 something Japanese engineer in which we primarily discussed the current economic and social ills that currently plague Japan I arrived in Pamukkale. I was met by a guy from my budget hotel I was staying at who had apparently been waiting for me ( I believe this to be to ensure my custom at his hotel as the place was dead). He whisked be back to the Hotel Dort Mevsim and then directed me to the springs and ruins I had come to see and what a sight they were! A whole mountainside covered in this brilliant white Calcium carbonate deposit. I arrived on a fairly overcast day and for one moment the sky significantly brightened up and the whole area seemed to blind one’s eyes. After paying the entry fee I made my way up a dirt track to the start of the calcite trail where upon I was instructed to remove my shoes and make the final 500m hike up the side of the moist calcite hill barefoot. The hot mineral loaded water upon cooling had deposited its chemical content and formed various pools with a blue so brilliant and turquoise that it rivalled that of any picture postcard Maldives shoreline!               Upon reaching the summit I was able to explore the roman ruins that had been built upon a plateau which were remarkably preserved/reconstructed. However the amphitheatre was exceedingly exciting and impressive in size. I then hiked back down the calcite hill to the hotel. I enjoyed a dinner of chicken casserole and rice cooked by “momma” and Turkish tv consisting of Morris style dance routines being clapped along by male politicians and generals interspersed with breaking news reports. Not the 9’oclock news indeed!

Anyway apologies for not beginning this blog sooner after leaving the UK; indeed I am currently sitting by the empty pool in my hotel in Pamukkale about to go the bus station to catch an overnight bus to Kapadocia. The reason I give for this is a) my chance to write was severely limited in Istanbul due to socializing with other guests at night, b) the chances I did have I chose to read my book “The Count of Monte Cristo” and c) I did start writing this post a few days ago but my computer froze and I lost all progress, maybe 150 words, and was so disheartened that I gave up! I shall endeavour now to publish one every few days (and to save as I go along!) as I have found it difficult writing this to remember exactly what I have done in Istanbul on each day due to the time elapsed, not alcoholic amnesia as some of you may suggest!

A couple of side notes which may or may not be of interest.

The first is advice for male solo travellers in Istanbul about a particular con (to which I was not a victim but a Swedish guy was in our hostel). This guy call Sam was approached by a man in the area around the blue Mosque posing to be a business man from Southern Turkey who suggested they visit a bar for a couple of drinks. Sam believing this to be the culture agreed and they ventured into a taxi who this friendly business man. Upon entry to the bar he suggested the two of them buy some ladies a few drinks. At the end of the night they were presented with a bill amounting to 4000 Turkish lira, which when split amounted to 2000 (about £800) for Sam. Not knowing the currency rates he had to withdraw from an atm to which he had help from the other guy who seemed to know intrinsically about the limits and how he could get as close as possible to the amount. The turk agreed to pay the remainder as he “had enjoyed sams company so much”. They parted ways in their separate cabs and Sam realised the next day he had been conned as his bank account statement stated he had spent €1000. Turns out actually many people are regularly victims of this particular con!

The second is an insight into travelling and tourism brought about by a discussion with a fellow hostel dweller Alex in Istanbul. In the period of time leading up to a gap year one is bombarded with information from various companies about “volunteering jobs with elephants” and “local cultural travels off the beaten”. Indeed I was particularly interested in them.  He argued that these were falsities and in fact the tourist trade at its very best being able convince travellers that the restaurant tucked away into the hillside was hardly visited by the western world serving authentic local cuisine and was how locals ate and traditional, or that the school the people were going to build in Africa for orphans was in dire need of their services. In fact he argued that these schools were simply profit making exercises for the travel agencies and heads of school for how many businesses would crave to have someone pay to carry out manual labour on their buildings for a number of months. I disagreed especially with his cynical capitalistic point of view on the schools stating that whilst it is true that the agencies profit from the experience but many of my friends had not done this volunteer work through an agency and the work is still volunteer in nature and therefore beneficial to both the school and the volunteer concerned.  He argued that to really see a culture and country one must travel independently of commercial enterprises and off the beaten track as possible however one must embrace the fact that the moment you step outside your own country (or to some degree your home town) you are a tourist and should not be afraid of being used as such. Anyway I wouldn’t have shared this discussion if today I hadn’t after breakfast started talking to the son (not older than 7) of the hotel, he was very friendly and invited me over to the computer; believing I was having a “cultural bonding session with a local” we sat down at the computer to which I found out that I was player 2 and he was player 1 in the Cartoon Networks Tom and Jerry Super Big Cheese bounce game. Did I feel used for half an hour? Sure thing I did, but I still enjoyed kicking his ass and bouncing that cheese!