Selcuk to Pamukkale, Turkey, Wednesday April 9th

Keith and Christine would love to hear from you with questions, comments, personal news and any news at all from Australia or wherever you are. We will reply to all emails!

Please write to either windlechristine@gmail.com or windle.keith@gmail.com

Despite my inner sense that we were on a rollercoaster of moving on and that we should stay in Selcuk longer, it was not to be because we had organised a stay with a couch surfer a few days hence and couldn’t allow the time. We travelled by bus, since the railway track has not been maintained and the service has been disbanded in this area. Initially we passsed through extensive areas of farmland and then began to climb up into more mountainous regions. Snow on the peaks ahead of us was a worry but they kept their distance and after the industrial city of Denizli, we arrived at the village of Pamukkale. Our confirmed internet booking through the Hostel World internet booking site turned out to be for a place that closed several years ago. Luckily we were able to stay in the small family run pension above the bus stop. Bed and breakfast in a room with ensuite was 30 lira ($A25). It turned out to include concern for our welfare when we returned late, fruit and tea before bed, and meeting relatives who came to visit.

With everything organised by 2 pm, we set off to explore. The white slopes of the calcium travertines were calling us but we listened to advice that a visit there and to the adjacent site of Hieropolos would take about six hours and decided to go next day. Instead we took up the suggestion to visit a non-touristy village up the mountain, and were lucky enough to be driven up by a farmer who was returning with a load of oregano seedlings to plant.

The village was originally settled by nomads several generations ago. Their nomadic lifestyle was based around the needs of their herds, with moves between stops being only about ten to fifteen kilometres. Today, small herds and agriculture still feature for each household although many younger members commute to the city of Denizli for work. Each house along the single road is separated from the next by land which is used for olives, vegetables, and animal sheds, with more farming land backing onto the houses. It is possible to see three of four houses clearly from any one house and, as we learnt the next day, to hold conversations across the street. We were dropped off at a carpet seller’s show rooms.

It was with great pride that he told us about the tradition of carpet making in the area. His wife was making a kilim, which is a woven flat woollen mat or wall hanging, and I had a turn at it. I was nowhere near forceful enough at making the threads lie close to those below, much to their amusement.

We looked at many carpets which is always a pleasure, and since Huseyin sells to large outlets, we did not feel any pressure to buy. We could see, from the prices, that the mark up for showrooms such as the one in Selcuk, was substantial. Naturally, in my mind, I selected one which reflected the vivid colours of springtime in Turkey and which had a less formal and more rural look to it.

Invited to see the cows and milking later, we filled the hour walking up the mountain and being greeted by other villagers. We were debating the pros and cons of buying a carpet, considering our ‘no presents for ourselves’ policy. Well, it is amazing how you can rationalise any position you want, so with my birthday coming up and the intention to make a sacrifice of some indulgence worth $2 a day over the rest of the year, we decided to think about it overnight.

Four cows were milked with a double portable milking machine. Two others due to calve soon, a heifer and four calves made up the herd. Keith helped Huseyin take the stainless steal milk container down to the communal tank where the contents, which averages 30 – 40 litres, was deposited and recorded.

Meanwhile, Emine and I were looking through her photo album, in particular at photos of her wedding.

She had been fifteen and was wearing a full skirted traditional western wedding gown and a piled up hairstyle. Lots of gold was pinned to her dress and heaps of money was pinned to Huseyin’s suit. A few older women wore the traditional village head dress, which is a scarf over a kind of pill box hat base, with both sides coming under the chin and then being pinned at the sides. Everyone else, who in normal daily life would be wearing headscarves, had bare hair. When I asked about that, using gestures, Emine said that they were wearing coiffures instead. It is traditional for the groom’s father to pay for the wedding and to provide a house for the couple. Families in this area usually have one or two children but in the past, and in Eastern Turkey now, which Huseyin said is is about 50 years behind, families of ten or so children are common.

After a glass of fresh hot milk, we left, with an invitation to a traditional Turkish meal the next day, following our visit to the Hieropolis site. The road led down the hill, but since a villager we met on the way suggested that we take the shortcut through the Hieropolis site, we did. A few women accosted us to buy tablecloths, following us while we resisted in English, and even after I said ‘no’ in Turkish.

The travertines stretch for about two kilometres, and drop for about 250 metres, from the plateau where the hot spring originates, to the valley below. So much calcium is suspended in the 36 degree water, that a thick crust of white rock forms everywhere it passes.

Amazing natural pools have formed on some areas of the slope and it is possible to paddle in them. In the past, large hotels on the plateau diverted the water and the natural pools suffered. The hotels were demolished but there are still large sections of the area with no water flow. Channels, gushing with water, divert the flow and blockers in them divert it even more. It would be interesting to know about current management and what the plans are. The way back to our village was through the pools so we took off our shoes, as is the rule, and enjoyed exploring as we went back down to Pamukkale.

We had a very thin pancake filled with cheese and spinach for dinner, in the company of Laura, an American, who we had met while we were putting our socks and shoes on. She has been travelling, by ‘wwoofing’ (working on farms for your board) and couch surfing, so had interesting stories of the friendliness and hospitality of Turkish people. It seems that most travellers seek camaraderie and we are enjoying time spent listening to tales and sharing ideas.