Your Coup Cannot Destroy My Turkey

While I have not experienced a lot of conflict in my life/travels nor am I stranger to it. I was evacuated from Belgrade in February 2008 when, as a result of the US's recognition of Kosovo's independence a group of people tried to burn down the US embassy. I was in Kabul in December 2011 for the Ashura suicide bombing. I have been in Istanbul for more than three years now and lived through Gezi and the summer of tear gas, both Sultanahmet suicide bombings, the suicide bombing on Istiklal-a seven minute walk from my apartment-the attack on the Ataturk International Airport, and a variety of protests. However the July 15 coup attempt was my first coup.

After Friday night, which was the most terrifying experience of my life-surpassing even that time I thought I was going to die on the Great Wall of China-I don't know why people would choose to go to an air show. Well, really even before Friday I couldn't understand that, but hearing the screams of the F16 and the resultant sonic booms many of thought were bombs I don't know why someone would willing want to listen to that. The next morning many discussions on Facebook groups and from my friends were about leaving Turkey. This coup, be it a real attempt or Erdogan theater (which I think more likely), this was the straw that broke the camel's back for many people. However when people ask me if I plan to leave I just look at them quizzically and say "No. Why would I do that?"

To be fair to the discussion, I am planning to leave Turkey. I decided this last fall when I realized that I want to be a sommelier and do my training in Italy; but this failed coup attempt will neither push me out faster nor will it change the fact that I'll probably be back. Why not? Because this, this country of coups, failing democracy, violence, and a willful retreat into the dark ages is not my Turkey.

The Bosphorus and the Seraglio Point from Galatasaray

Kiz Kulesi/Maiden's Tower

My Turkey is beautiful. It's where I can be awed time and again by the magic of the Bosphorus and the iconic images of the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque. It's where you can cruise the Bosphorus to watch for dolphins and appreciate the beautiful, elaborate palaces and architecture along this ancient waterway.

Mount Nemrut

Celsus Library at Ephesus

It is timeless and melds cultures from across history. The Ottoman Empire, which ended not even 100 years ago (in 1922 to be exact) encompassed a vast array of peoples and cultures which is part of what made the modern Turkish nation so great-whether or not anyone wants to remember that. Turkey is home to some of the world's most amazing Greco/Roman ruins including Ephesus, the best preserved Greco-Roman ruins in the Aegean as well as empires like the Selcuks who fell to the Romans even before Ephesus was standing.

Hagia Sophia

Chora Church

My Turkey was the cradle of Christianity. There are over 100 churches in Istanbul alone. Granted many have been converted to mosques and/or museums but they're still standing; including the Hagia Sophia-one of the oldest churches in the world. Across the Marmara Sea is the city of Iznik, famous not just for its beautiful blue and white tiles but for once being Nicea where the fathers of the Eastern and Western Christian churches met and formalized the faith. If you fly into Izmir to visit Ephesus you're actually flying into the ancient Biblical city of Smyrna and while you're in Ephesus you can visit nearby Meryamana-the house where the Mother of God lived with Saint John before her assumption. You can visit cave churches of early Christians around the country, most famously in Cappadocia or, if you really like to walk, follow the path of Saint Paul across the country.

It is the home to some of of the most beautiful and mysterious natural land formations like the limestone travertines of Pamukkale which gleam like snow under the sun and the fairy chimneys of Cappadocia. Turkey is where tulips were first mass grown and in fact introduced the flower to the Dutch. While the Dutch now surpass them in tulip production, Turkey is still one of the world's top tulip growers, holds a tulip festival every year that blankets the city in color, and incorporates the flower in many of its most traditional motifs.

My Turkey is friendly and hospitable. It's where within five minutes of arriving at your family-run cave hotel in Cappadocia you're holding the baby and are part of the family. It's where that family goes out of its way to make sure you get a booking for the hot air balloons despite the atrocious weather because its your little brother's first trip abroad and he has to have this experience; and where airport ticket agents try hard to get you an exit row seat because that same "little" brother is 6'7". It's where the guys at your favorite bufe go the extra mile and make your orange juice fancy because its your birthday and where shops and cafes you regularly frequent go out of their way to remember your order or provide extra special service.

Cat at Ephesus

Language school cat, Aslan

My Sherlock

My Turkey is also where that hospitality extends to animals and where people care for stray animals, especially cats, in a way I have never seen anywhere else. It's where tram drivers stop packed trains so cats can cross the tracks, where many of the local governments provide funding so street cats can receive free care, where people build shelters and leave out water and food for the cats. It's where cats are welcome in (and often cared for exclusively by) shops, cafes, museums, and historical sites. Turkey is also where I met my Sherlock who is naughty and spoiled but seeks shelter near me when the world is falling down around us and is possibly the love of my life.

 

This is where I have met amazing people, both Turkish and other foreigners. They have helped me apartment hunt, translated/interpreted for me before I learned the language, opened their homes to me, encouraged my studies in wine, and readily welcomed me into their groups in a way I never experienced in the US. I have met people here who not only embrace me as a friend but look after me like I'm family.

My Turkey is where I have had experiences I couldn't have anywhere else. When His Holiness Pope Francis came to Istanbul in 2014 I not only got a ticket to the Mass, thanks to my parish priest I also served at the Papal Mass. In 2016 I got to see the same humble, caring parish priest be ordained as Bishop of Istanbul, putting him in charge of one of the oldest Christian parishes in the world. Here I learned Turkish, or you know, learned it well enough to manage my daily life and read book 1 of Harry Potter. I have formally studied eight languages and Turkish is one of the most complicated and difficult ones; the only one in fact that gets more and not less difficult the more you learn. I probably sound like a five-year old when I talk but people are always not only willing to listen to me struggle through sentences but are happy that I'm trying.

This is my Turkey. My Turkey is ancient, beautiful, spiritual, colorful, brave, hospitable, cultured, exciting, and magical. Yes there is a terrible and dark core eating away it and it may be systematically destroyed by its own government and people but the vision and memories I have of this magnificent country cannot be destroyed no matter how many (fake) coups happen or what terror the government rains down on its own citizens. This is my Turkey, and this is how I will remember it always.

In the Category of Things That Are NOT Going to Happen...

We arrived in Adiyaman on Friday and didn't actually go up to Mount Nemrut until the following morning. Not wanting to waste time sitting around doing nothing, we took the hotelier's suggestion of a tour to Gerger where we could hike around the reservoir. Apparently both my English and Turkish are horrible because, if there was a reservoir we didn't see it. Although it's entirely possible I missed it because the twisty turny drive plummeted me into motion sickness such as I have not felt since my trip from Sarajevo back to Belgrade.

You want me to climb that? No, just no.

Our driver/guide Mehmet, who speaks limited to no English, eventually pulls over the van and tells us "Buyrun Gerger Kalesi" (Welcome to Gerger Fortress). After a series of deep breaths to shake off lingering motion sickness I look up to where he's pointing. If you're going to build a fortress the top of a stand alone peak seems a pretty darn defensible place to put one. We follow Mehmet up a hillock, scrambling over the lose rocks sliding under our feet. Once we get up there we take another look at the peak and enjoy the view around us. "Haydi," says Mehmet, "gidelim." I look at him with mounting trepidation...let's go where? I ask to make sure...and sure enough he's pointing at the top of the bloody peak.

That's the Euphrates!!!

Close up of E&M and Mehmet having a wee break.

Dude. That's a no.

I had a hard enough time getting up the hillock and was already worried about how I was going to get down without falling. I told Mehmet and E&M that they were welcome to go rock climbing if they wanted but that I was going to stay right here thank you very much. So they went off to risk their lives while I stayed where I was, enjoyed the view, and took pictures.

And that faint yellow circle is what they look like sans the zoom.

The Gerger Fortress, built during medieval times, rests over a sacred site dedicated to the goddess Argandene built by Arsames (yeah, I don't know who that is either). The few remains up there (which E&M tell me they briefly saw before beginning their descent) include a relief set into a niche facing Mount Nemrut belonging to King Samos of Commagene, made at the behest of Antiochos I. We later learned that said relief is visible from the road so...if you want to see the relief but don't want to risk your life getting to it, you can stay safely on the ground.

There they are again. Regret my decision I do not.

In no way do I regret my decision to stay where I was...although I do regret forgetting that my mp3 player was in my pocket the entire time. While the rocky ground provided no comfortable seating, the stunning view combined with silence broken only by the wind whistling through the plants, buzzing insects, and the calls of a lone hunting bird provided an amazing place to sit and think for a while.

I still can't get over that I saw the Euphrates! And, because I know you're wondering, on my way down what really was a very small (if steep and covered with loose rocks) hillock...I did indeed fall.

Balloons over Cappadocia

It was really difficult to chose pictures for this post. My camera memory card is relatively small and through a series of unfortunate events the larger memory card I ordered never made it to me. I took so many pictures on the morning of our balloon ride that I was out of memory by the time we got back to the hotel. So is it really worth waking up at 3:30 AM and 120 Euros?

Yes.

3:30 AM does come awfully early though. I get annoyed when my cat wakes me before 9 so this was really painful. We were picked up shortly after 4 AM by the balloon company we'd chosen (Rainbow Balloons) and joined a van full of chipper New Zealanders who rightfully pointed out that we shouldn't be yawning since we had a later pick up than they! We were taken to the Tourist hotel on the Museum Road to meet up with other groups destined for a ride with Rainbow Balloons and for breakfast which, other than the fresh, hot, pogaca, I would happily have traded for another hour of sleep.

650 meters up

I've never been in a hot air balloon before so the basket was a surprise. I guess I expected on big open basket in which we (16 people) would be jostling for a good view. Rather the basket was divided into five compartments: the center to the pilot and four small compartments in which just four of us jostled for a good view. Our pilot was great though, he made sure to turn the balloon pretty regularly so we all got a chance to see everything.

After we took off we flew fairly low for a while, through Cappadocia's Rose Valley (so named because of the color, not because it has flowers). Then we slowly rose to our max height of 650 meters (1,148 ft). There was really no sensation at all while we were flying, not even during lift off, but when we got to 650 meters and I saw all the tiny balloons down there that had yet to climb high...yeah I stated freaking out a little. While I'm not afraid of heights I have a very reasonable and legitimate fear of falling. And experience has proved that if falling is possible most likely I'll do it. MG assured me that there was no way I could tip over the basket and fall out though. They get you up so darned early so you an see the sun rising over the valleys. It's pretty well worth it.

Most of my pictures are of the other balloons as you can see! This being one of the major attractions of Cappadocia, there are so very many balloon companies. And each and every single morning, every company puts multiple balloons in the air. Since we weren't flying over the famous Love Valley (read about it in a future post though!) the landscape wasn't all that iconic and interesting so looking at the other balloons filling the dawn sky was more fun!

Since it rained so very much the day before we were a little worried that our flight would be canceled. We still had another day to try if it were, but that means we still would have got up at 3:30 AM! Luckily, Mother Nature decided that one day of torrential downpours was enough and the rest of our trip was pretty great weather-wise. A little rain here and there but nothing Ark-worthy. And more importantly, nothing that would keep the balloons grounded!

"Ghost town" largely abandoned Greek settlement

We flew for about an hour which was really more than enough time. As we went down for the landing we all had to assume the landing position...facing away from the flying direction, grip the rope handles, and crouch. I'm not entirely certain why this was necessary...but sure whatever. Apparently either the ground didn't want us or the balloon wanted to keep going as we "landed" two or three times before it was a permanent condition...the permanency largely helped by ground crew jumping on the basket to help hold it down. After we clambered out there was cake and champagne and we all received flight certificates! We were back to our hotel by 7 AM after which we had ourselves a bit of a nap (it was going to be a full day with hiking, underground city exploration, and more!) and then, Hobbit-like, a second breakfast :)

Don't forget to find us on Google +! I'll be posting all the pictures from this trip there including those not posted on the blog!

Petra!

Ah Petra...I think if people know anything about Jordan they know about Petra. Or at least they've seen whichever Indiana Jones movie was shot here. Personally of all the ancient cities I have privileged to visit-this has been my favorite. The buildings were carved right into the mountains for Pete's sake. I just don't think you can beat that.

The way to Petra

If you're going to Petra the first thing you need to know is that holy cow the entrance fee is high. Like, dude. It's 50JD (roughly $75). However what is nice is that you can purchase multi-day tickets for what turns out to be a steep discount. A two-day ticket is only 55 JD and three-day is 60 (or 65?) JD. The next couple things you need are lots and lots of sunscreen and water. After you pass through the entrance gate there's still a kilometer to walk before reaching the Siq.

Genie rocks

You won't be bored though because there are some things to see along the way. Like the Obelisk Tomb and genie rocks.

Obelisk tomb

You may also hire a cart or take a horse (horse included in the cost of your ticket) to the Siq. However after looking at the state of the poor creatures, Sarah and I decided to walk. The horses are very sad.

It is a burning burning hot sun though, even in October, so sunscreen, water, and even a hat are highly recommended.

Entrance to the Siq

Once you get to the Siq, a narrow gorge which is the eastern entrance to Petra, you finally find shade. I was very happy with how much shade there was throughout the entire site. I enjoyed walking through the Siq almost as much as anything too. The gorge was really interesting and I enjoyed the sharply rising, twisty-turny cliffs.

Niche (probably for light?) at the Siq entrance

Inside the Siq

Enjoyment aside though, the walk through the Siq is also quite long. However just when you think you can't take it anymore...

BAM!

View of the Treasury at the end of Siq

The Siq opens up right onto the Treasury, arguably Petra's most famous and most photographed feature.

That's Sarah-she's very tiny

In close in shots of the Treasury I don't think you can really appreciate its immensity. Having tiny Sarah in the above picture helps...but I also think pulling the frame back a little provides an equally good idea of just how freaking huge the structure is.

Again-BAM! It's really big

Detailing on the top of the Treasury

The area in front of the Treasury is a large gathering place with a vastly overpriced cafe, gift shop, hawkers, tour group assembly points, people trying to get you to buy a donkey ride through the site, and camels. I *heart* camels!!

Camels!

I liked the white one best

Once you're done oohing and ahhing over the Treasury, you head off to the right (because to the left is a dead end) to greater Petra. We were pleasantly surprised that it wasn't overrun by people; in fact it was pretty empty. The conclusion locals seemed to have reached, which we learned from shopkeepers, was that the tourists who used to number 10,000+ daily were staying away both because of the general global economic downturn, and because of Syria.

One pointed out, which I thought was interesting, that foreigners seem to think of the Middle East as a unit and if there's trouble in one country, then obviously the entire region is a roiling mass of violence. However, if there's trouble in Europe (like the riots in Greece and Spain) it doesn't stop anyone from going to say France or Italy. And in fact, both Sarah's and my mom were concerned about whether it was safe to go to Jordan. Sarah assured her mom that I was going first and would make sure it was safe for her. My assurance was less than assuring as I told my mom it didn't matter if people wanted to burn down the US Embassy-I wasn't going to Jordan to take pictures of that.

Don't know what this is-random building #1

I decided to confer with Wikipedia to see if I could match up some of my pictures with its map of Petra. Not only can't I, but wow we missed a lot! You really could use all three days if you wanted to see everything. There are a lot, a lot a lot, of different trails you can take to see tombs and temples and such that are scattered about on top of the mountains. We knew we were ignoring some of them, but I didn't realize how many.

Houses maybe? Shops?

If you do decide to go for all of them; I suggest either a rigorous pre-trip training regime that combines regular cardio with stair climbing. For at least 12 hours a week for two months. There's a lot of climbing and a lot of stairs. And we know how much I love stairs.

Urn Tomb

We started late on day one and since you have to be out before dark it was just a short visit. Our last stop was the Urn Tomb. Frankly I wasn't even sure I was going to make it up there. I have no idea who or what Urn was-my thoughts were more on survival than Sarah's excellent impression of a tour guide (she even makes grand gestures while reading from her book or signs).

Top of the Urn Tomb

But eventually make it I did! Little did I know that this would be the easiest climb. So temporarily safe in my ignorance I savored the view from the top and enjoyed exploring its chambers. Although explore might be a little too grand a word. I was more like, walk inside and look around because they're empty. And dark.

Inside the Urn Tomb

They were interesting though if for no other reason than they demonstrated the multi-coloredness of the rock. One of Petra's nicknames is the Rose-Red City which I think is more obvious when you see the inside of the buildings.

Obviously I should have paid more attention to Sarah's guidebook and all the various signs because now I don't really know what any of these are are.

More camels!

Theare

On day two we moved pretty swiftly through the first part of Petra as we'd devoted a couple hours to it the day before. Walking past the trail up to the Urn Temple we noticed a turn off we could have taken while we were up there. Finding another way up We poked around this (below) tomb and then followed an arrow sign that was supposed to lead us to a church I think, but we stopped looking for it when the path ended at the edge of a cliff. Out of view of the picture to left was yet another staircase cut into the rock which apparently lead to yet more tombs. Sarah took pity on me and we did not go up the staircase. I mean stairs are bad enough on their own, but when they're cut into the face of a mountain and don't include handrails?! That just spells disaster.

Corinthian tomb (l) and Silk Tomb (r-out of pic)

After going back down the trail to reach the main Petra thorough fare, we came across a lovely cafe/gifts shop. There are many cafes and gift shops actually that line the main pathways of Petra. This one was a very welcome site as the sun was quite hot over head and we (i.e. I) were pretty tired from clambering around mountain top tombs and almost walking off cliffs because a sign told us to. In any case, if you're ever in Petra I highly recommend this particular cafe. It had ceiling fans which kept it nice cool and the prices weren't highway robbery. I had a mint lemonade-something I discovered while in Lebanon and now would happily drink every single day if I could. I probably spent more money on mint lemonade than on anything else during this trip!

What I call the 'half-way cafe'

Once we were sufficiently refreshed we pushed onwards towards what I will forebodingly (which is a word and is spelled correctly even though Firefox thinks different) refer to as - the trail to the monastery. It doesn't really sound all that foreboding does it? And I know Sarah's probably rolling her eyes. But darn it all, 800 or more steps! 800!!

Hadrian's gate in the background there

The colonnaded street above leading to Hadrian's Gate (dude seriously got around!) was likely lined with shops and such. How I wish they were still there as window shopping would have been a great excuse to delay taking the trail to the monastery.

Only free standing structure in Petra

Here also were gathered many donkey and camel drivers trying to entice people into renting a ride (on the donkeys) up the mountain to the monastery. I was torn about the donkey really. While I had no desire to make the journey on my own feet and a friend recommended I take the donkey-someone else told me that the donkey ride was 'both thrilling and terrifying'. Not really a great recommendation that. And while I'm sure the donkeys are far more sure footed than am I (what isn't really?), perching precariously on an underfed donkey while it trudged up the mountain for its upteenth trip pf the day...eh.

There were many tombs and interesting rock formations on the way up to the monastery. However I didn't take all that many pictures because I knew from my experience on the Great Wall that I was going to want my hands free and not worry about falling and breaking my camera. My Nikon 200 went back into the camera bag and I stuck a small Coolpix in my pocket for some quick shots along the way.

Of course I also used every excuse I could think of to stop for a break along the way up. Oh look, a tomb! Oh look, goats! Oh look...an interesting cloud! Sarah, who may have reached sainthood by the time we got to the top, stayed with me for the entire climb, bought most for my excuses to stop, and helped make up excuses for my utter lack of in shapeness. I was pretty frustrated that I was so out of breath considering I go to the gym for dance classes and other cardio 5-6 times a week.

Goats

We stopped briefly for a breather at a cafe and discovered that we didn't have far to go after that at all. Everyone we passed from that point promised that we were almost there. And we were, around a corner, up a few more stairs, then down a few more. The problem was, even though I was literally steps from the end, I almost didn't make it and was convinced the end (my own, not the path's) was at hand. Sarah's long suffering silence prompted me on though and I gathered what little oxygen was left to trudge on.

The Monastery Al Dier

The monastery is even larger than the treasury and if you compare the picture further up of Sarah by the Treasury compared to the itty bitty speck that is Sarah in this picture-you have some idea. It was pretty vast. I could barely see into it's depths and I had to stand on tip toe to peek over the wall below the opening.

Everyone says that, whether you climb under your own power or take the donkey, it's worth the trip once you get up there. Eh. There's also a cafe at the top that's only mildly over priced but I bought a well deserved coke anyway. We stayed up there for a while, mostly I suspect, so I could gather myself for the trek down. Going down stairs is physically easier but far more disturbing to my mental faculties.

My brother-in-law said that we absolutely should not miss the High Place of Sacrifice-which is apparently located roughly above and to the left of the Treasury (so above that dead end) and reached by a trail. We did not go there. And if I ever go back to Petra I highly doubt that I'll go then-unless jet packs for personal use have been invented by then.