Monday, April 28, 2008

Göreme, Turkey, Friday April 25th

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

We had stayed five nights at our hotel which had been central, cheap and provided a good communal area. We put the photos from the Children’s Festival on the computer there for the cleaner to have, and said goodbye to Jesus, who was on duty at the time. He is one of the 25 Christians in the area.
We change buses at Nevşehir, and then continued on the seven hour trip to Antakya. Once we had climbed out of the Cappodocian valleys and plateaus, the scenery continued as a mixture of villages, towns and agricultural areas. The further east we came, the neater and larger the plantings and paddocks became.
We had failed to check the credit on our phone so we could not make the promised call to Metin, who was to be our couch surfing host in Antakya. Arriving at the Bus Station, Keith tried to buy credit in the cafeteria and was told that they didn’t sell any but to use the metered phone. The brief local call cost 6.50 lira – incredibly high and as Metin told us later, an illegal scam. Nevertheless, contact was made and Metin came to pick us up.
Metin is a fascinating person who has done many varied things and led an interesting life. He has a wonderful ability with languages, speaking English very well, using a wide vocabulary, fluent Arabic and Turkish, Bulgarian which he learnt in a year, and some other languages to a lesser degree. He is very considerate and thoughtful and a great conversationalist. We chatted while we waited for his neighbour, whose house we would stay in, to return.
His own home, with his family, was on the first floor of an apartment building. We stayed with Besime Teyze (Aunt Besime) who lives on the ground floor of a free standing house, surrounded by well tended gardens. She is about 84, and speaks, reads and writes Arabic and Turkish. This is unusual for a woman of her age, but she grew up in a very learned household and was educated at home. She also had snippets of French which she picked up from her brothers when they were learning it. She welcomed us, as acquaintances of Metin, one of her favourites and the close friend of her sixth son, photographer and journalist, Kâmal.
When Besime Teyze returned, we took our things into our room, and set about sorting out how we would organise meals etc. We needed to do it while Metin was present to do the interpreting. We established that we would cook and eat together, so we had a look at what was in the fridge, made some suggestions and went shopping with Metin at the local shops. Everyone was so kind and helpful, with one greengrocer refusing payment from us - his friend’s friends. The bread was nearly too hot to carry, having just been withdrawn on the baker’s paddle from the oven. We asked Metin what to buy as a gift for Besime Teyze, and he suggested chicken wings, so I went to the butcher next door to buy them. We are learning that practical and useful items are appreciated here.
I think that Besime Teyze is an amazing person. She happily took in complete strangers with no language in common and then managed, with gestures and prodding, to allow us to help cook in her kitchen. We were definitely the assistants. When I was preparing a dish I had learnt from Umit in Turgutreis, my chopped items kept disappearing into the salad we were making together. Metin had gone home and Besime Teyze had no idea that I was making a separate dish as well as helping. Nevertheless, we prepared a feast which was delicious. Metin joined us but had to pop out now and then, which left great silences in what was a vibrant chat fest while he was present.
That evening we watched some traditional singers on TV with impassioned, eyes shut renditions from a middle aged lady and mimed singing along for an appreciative ‘Today’ program style host. I cut Besime Teyse’s fingernails and when Metin joked that I would charge five lira per hand, she quipped that she would charge ten lira if I hurt her. She was not impressed with our curved nail scissors and asked if that was all that Australian’s had for a manicure. Apparently she was used to nail clippers.
I went to bed, changing quickly, and just as well because Besime Teyse had jumped out of her bed, come down to our room and gestured forcefully that I should hop out of mine so that we could have some time together. We sat on the couch, and with no common language, somehow patted and hugged to show that we liked each other and that we were girls together. Part of it was conveyed by pointing to the lounge room where Keith and Metin were talking, using hand gestures to show yacking on, and throwing hands up in the air. After a while she left and I hopped back into bed.

While travelling by bus to Antakya in Turkey's deep south we noticed that all the houses and most other buildings in one district had corrugated iron rooves. Most houses we have seen in Turkey have tiled rooves. There was even a mosque with a corrugated iron roof!

The price of fuel in Turkey is about double the Australian price. The Turkish lira is valued at a bit less than a dollar (about 85 cents).

These blocks of concrete flats are typical of those found in the suburbs of most Turkish cities visited so far.

Göreme, Turkey, Thursday April 24th

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

Today we walked along another valley – the Zemi valley. It starts just out of town and the Lonely Planet Guide said that it is full of interesting rock formations and that it is also called Love Valley. The mind boggled. A pleasant stroll down a dirt road between, for this area, unexceptional cliffs, led us to a signpost to the El Nazar Church. This little church was locked, with a ticket required to enter it. The ticket office was in a cave further along, and contained a bed, basic cooking items and a small fire, which was burning fiercely despite the temperature outside being about 35 degrees with a warm breeze blowing up the sand. The man gathered his keys and unlocked the church for us, staying while we looked around.
The people in the frescoes were unusual; all with long thin faces and simple beards and hairstyles represented by formulaic straight lines. The colours were pale compared to the brilliant colours in other churches, and there was no individualism depicted. I forgot to mention that when we were in the Göreme Open Air Museum in the Dark Church, there was a gorgeous series of pictures depicting the birth of Jesus. The first showed a heavily pregnant Mary in the stable and the artist had had fun painting a long suffering Joseph, lying in a corner with an expression on his face that said, “How much longer and then what?” It was a pity that there was no information at all, since the differences must have had some significance.
We continued on along a very pleasant agricultural valley, walking in the creek bed in most places, and wondering why there were virtually no signs of habitation in the cliffs. Keith’s theory was that flooding would be a problem, but looking at the trickle at our feet, it was hard to imagine. At one spot, however, a few metres up on the cliff, there was a man-made hole, so I climbed up to investigate. It was a large cistern full of water, which would be filled either by water within the cliffs or when the valley flooded.
The path was generally heading uphill and eventually left the creek and provided massive vertical challenges for me but a breezy uphill stroll for Keith. After a little while I was not feeling so well so we stopped in a rare shaded spot and rested. The rest of the walk was like the first part. We came to another sign saying ‘Churches’ but, when we followed it, it turned out to mean “No churches but a track up to the road.” The dirt road back to Göreme had panoramic views of the valleys, some of which did have spectacular rock formations, and of the four villages in the immediate vicinity. It followed a high ridge before it dropped down into Göreme, coming in to an area of rock hotels and villagers’ homes.
After 4 hours of walking in the heat, we lay down in our cave to cool off and have a nap. Revived, we organised bus tickets for the ten hour trip to Antakya the next day and Keith set off to walk the real Love Valley, but he got lost and walked along a valley with very little of interest to see.
Meanwhile I went shopping – there were many shops for tourists and while they contained a plethora of cheap souvenirs, I had not had a chance to look at the beautiful embroidered items; lace and hand crafts of the area. I resisted the urge to buy a heavy bronze whirling dervish, but I purchased a second long sleeved top so as not to burn on these hot 30˚+ days. It was interesting to discover the difference in shopping alone to going into shops together. I had more offers of drinks, interesting conversations and browsed for much longer. Suddenly it was getting dark and, since I had the key, I hurried back to the hotel to see if Keith had returned. We met on the road and went to have a long longed for milk shake (6 lira, so one between us), while catching up with Lewis at the shop. He is very pleasant company. We have met Tony twice in Göreme; not planned, but a pleasure each time. Casual friendships with travellers are so relaxing and enjoyable because of the ease of language and the great interest we have in each others’ adventures.

More views around the amazing Göreme village.

Göreme, Turkey, Wednesday April 23rd

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 Today we went to see the Children’s Festival which was in the square. Ataturk said that he wanted the National Day to be for children, with festivals and activities and no charge for children and students to museums etc. The cleaner at our hotel recommended the festival in this village of Göreme, since her child was in it. Organised by the school, it was a combination of National Day celebration and school concert.








The school band, with all girls on drums and all boys on brass instruments, led the whole school, carrying placards, around the town. A girl of about ten was a very capable MC, introducing some dignitaries who spoke at length, all the while the poor children suffering in their costumes in the heat and those with the honour of holding the flag and the enormous framed photo of Ataturk, valiantly keeping them aloft.
At last the acts started and the kindergarten children each came to the microphone to say something; what we did not know. The preps were dressed in western style purple and white outfits and performed a cheerleader type routine. Sightly older children performed a game of musical chairs, all dressed for a dance party. Some very basic choreography with umbrellas provided a contrast before some others performed a modified version of the soldier folk dance and a group staged a relay race involving different aspects of the physical education program. Between each act, groups or individuals came to the microphone and made impassioned speeches or performed poetry, all of which included Ataturk’s name, and some of which appeared to act out parts of his life. By this stage the chocolate bars that had been handed out to all the students and to their families watching were well and truly melting in the over 30 degree heat. The wind increased, whipping up the dust so that the children were all sheltering their eyes with chocolate coated fingers. At this stage we left, so we don’t know how everything concluded.
Way behind on the blog, and with no planning done for our next move, we retreated to the delicious cool of our cave and stayed there until the evening. Keith sorted through photos and slept while I typed. We consulted a travel agent about options for travelling further east and we were thinking of going next to Antakya, close to the Syrian border. He offered a three day tour covering several places we wanted to visit (Mount Nemrut in particular) and if time had been an issue, it could have been an option. As it was, we decided to amble along at our own pace and let our journey evolve.
I found a cotton long sleeved top – essential for all the walking we do in the sun – and we spent the rest of the evening chatting to an American called Lewis. He is working in Bursa in north-west Turkey at a franchise English teaching school for adults. He has a Turkish girlfriend and is trying to float a business venture of his own. A history buff, with a penchant for the crusades, he told us about lots of interesting paces in Turkey where historic battles have taken place. It seems that there have always been people who are motivated by high religious ideals but whose means of achieving their aims have not met those ideals in any way.

Göreme, Turkey, Tuesday April 22nd

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

At last we were off to see an underground city. Our bus to Aksaray was slightly delayed by the erection of a gigantic Turkish flag behind the bus stop, because our driver was watching proceedings. Bus drivers and conductors are very considerate and follow the principle that the bus is there as a service to the customers. Before they leave, they start the engine and toot, often calling out their destination. They scan the crowd and side streets to see if anyone is hurrying to catch the bus, and if that is the case, they wait for them. You can hail a bus anywhere along the route that it is possible for the bus to stop safely. The conductor, or driver’s mate, inquires everyone’s destination and if you don’t get off at the right spot, they check and help you. We were not going to make it to Aksaray in time to connect with the bus to Kaymaklı, so the driver’s mate checked with us that that was our destination, and when they saw the bus we needed as we were driving along, they tooted and stopped it for us. How about that for care for the customers!
The village of Kaymaklı looked just like any village until we walked up an alley lined with tourist stalls to a ticket office. Still the only things visible were a low rocky hill and a small cave entrance. This was the entrance to 10% of an underground city that had once catered for 20000 people in times of war. Our guide, Mustafa, had grown up in the village and as a child, before tourism claimed it, had played in the city. His parents had made him take a sack of straw to find his way back to the surface until he learnt all the tunnels by heart. Centuries ago the lower floors had collapsed but in 1964, archaeologists had worked on the site and prepared it for visitors. Mustafa had been consulted in the process and later took exams to become an official guide. Here was a man who loved his job, a born communicator with a beloved topic to share.
The underground city had been started at the time of the Hittites but it was in the Christian era that it was fully developed.
The engineering was sophisticated, with the load bearing capacity of each rock type worked out for the floor thickness, and eight 120 metre deep square shafts, which were not only used as wells. They were vital for allowing fresh air to circulate and also for dirty water and human and other waste to be lifted out with ropes. Soldiers on the outside passed information down the shafts and kept people informed of the time of day when a long siege was in progress. There were wars and invasions every ten years or so, often enough for survival to depend on being able to withstand a siege below ground. During peace time the city was extended and the stone removed was used to build a village above ground. Normal life was pursued but everyone contributed to stores of food and materials to be used communally in the underground city in times of war. Each level in the city had a communal kitchen, food store, winery and wash room. Food was cooked collectively once a week at night, with the smoke making its way out of the tunnels when the enemies could not see it. There was a system for heating water which was piped into a dish washing area and was also available for washing clothes and people. In the laundry, families washed their clothes in an enormous stone tub and then pulled a curtain around to wash themselves. There was an entry and an exit to this room for crowd control, since 100 people could be lined up waiting for a turn. Each family had a room, which was allocated according to the amount of taxes paid. The best rooms were on the top floor, with higher ceilings, more wardrobes and cupboards and better architectural features. A few levels down you were lucky to get a ledge for your oil lamp and a carved stone loop in the ceiling to hang up your baby’s hammock. Everyone, of all classes, slept on straw on the floor. Each apartment had an escape tunnel, air holes and talking holes that connected them to other families, like telephone. The tunnels were blocked off by millstones that were so heavy that it was impossible to move them without leverage, which was only catered for on the inside.
Villagers who broke laws were imprisoned in the underground city and they and their keepers stayed down there even in peace time.
Occasionally, after six to eight months, diseases could develop and people could start to suffer psychologically. There was an eight kilometre escape tunnel that could be used if required. Sometimes the above ground soldiers would lure a small force into the city, where they would be locked into a small area and have boiling oil tipped on them, arrows shot at them and swords poked into them, all through specially designed holes in the walls of the tunnels and rooms.
Mustafa was an absolute mine of information. He said that the Hittites were small people but that the later people were our size. The size of the tunnels was to do with stability with the rock. He himself ran through the tunnels after first crossing his hands in front of him at hip level, reducing his shoulder width and height. We lumbered awkwardly after him. It was a great visit and it was a treat to have Mustafa guide us.
We were still talking to Mustafa when the Italian people we had met in Güzelyurt emerged. They invited us to go with them in their mini-van to see a valley at Soğanlı which is not easily accessible, but was recommended by their Turkish friend. We all stopped for a drink and to taste some cheese pizza, and then we all piled in and set off. The children were thirteen year old twins, Agatha and Felicia, and seven year old Filipo. They attended an international school in Mozambique and were all fluent in English. The girls told us about their teachers and their two maids and how they wished to visit snow but their parents only like warm places. Only Isabella and Bruno, the grandparents did not speak English, but luckily I know some Italian from my school days and Keith had a few words too.
Lunch was at the most beautiful café, where the tables were in a meadow under blossoming apple trees, beneath a towering rocky mountain. A little stream meandered by. The proprietor spoke to our group in Italian and we thanked him in Italian, along with the rest. We had lentil soup, salad and the most delicious bread.
The valley was really interesting, with little churches and monastery complexes along it. Keith was exploring an upper chamber and when he returned to the gloom of the lower room, he tripped and landed heavily in amongst the tombs. He lay for a while, recovering, and we were glad that scratches and grazes were the only lasting effects. Certainly no-one of Keith’s size could have been buried laid out in those rock tomb cavities, and neither was there enough room to have folded him up a bit. The tombs with the bodies at the museum had been longer, but now I wished I had paid attention to the position of the skeletons.
One church, the ‘domed church’, was unusual because not only had the inside been intricately carved with columns, arches and a very high dome, but the outside had been carved into a church roof too. They were certainly not afraid to advertise their presence. The frescoes were fairly worn, and, as in most places other than the museum, unprotected from the effects of weather and visitors. By this stage the path had led us high up the mountain and now we descended through an area where the rock dwellings had electricity and solar panels attached and shoes outside a wooden door. We spoke to some men who had just loaded a truck with bags of potatoes. They said that they exported some to Australia.
Back in the van, Sandros drove to Urgup, where we left them to find the bus back to Göreme. We saw potato trucks backing into storage warehouses cut into the rock – perfect for temperature control. Unfortunately we were just ten minutes late for the last bus so we had to take a taxi.
We had had a very special afternoon, seeing an area that would have been inaccessible to us and sharing the company of a very friendly and interesting family. It was another case of just being in the right place at the right time, and we were struck by our good fortune.
This is the underground city' winery. Keith is standing in the grape treading area, and the juice would drain to the area in the left of the picture below, where it was collected.

This picture taken in the underground city shows how holes were created in the walls and ceilings to tie things to, such as a baby's hammock.

Millstones in the underground had several uses in addition to blocking off the tunnels against enemies. Being basalt, they are much harder than the stone into which the city is carved. They were used for grinding and for moulding copper or bronze utensils.