aegean

Last weekend I went on a spontaneous trip to a town called Bodrum, which is on the Aegean coast of Turkey. Bodrum is an hour and a half flight from Istanbul and the perfect place to relax in the sun, swim in the sea and have a few cocktails. I can't think of anything I enjoy more than swimming in the sea— I was in that clear, clear water the second I could jump in. Since it was the beginning of the season, the weather was a bit chillier than I had hoped, but still quite lovely.



Bodrum is a massive tourist attraction in the summertime, but it was relatively empty this weekend. Being one of the few young females around, I had to put up with a lot of staring. Many tourists and foreigners living in Turkey are bothered by the staring, since we are brought up with the notion that it's rude— here, on the other hand, staring is quite a normal thing. Both men and women will stare, and I have found that it doesn't really mean anything. You just have to ignore it. I am actually happy to be in a culture that is open to staring—I can be as indiscreet as I want to be when drawing people in public.

kapadokya in sketches

Please click on the images to see them larger.

kapadokya, day three

As promised, I'll tell you the hamam story of Day Two. The five of us tourmates decided to visit the Turkish Bath in Ürgüp that evening— I have never been to a Turkish bath and was looking forward to being scrubbed and rubbed. The two guys were lead into a changing cabin and we three ladies were squeezed into one of our own. We wrapped a thin striped cotton cloth called a peştemal around ourselves and slipped on a pair of plastic sandals. It was a small hamam, but we still expected that there would be a separate area for women. When we were lead into the main steam room, we were surprised to see our two male friends sitting on the marble slab in their little peştemals— and they seemed just as surprised to see us. So eh, whatever, we thought. We hike-bonded. We ladies went into a side room to shower off the day's dirt with cool water from a pipe, and warm water from marble basins that we scooped up and poured over ourselves with a plastic bowl. The guys went into the sauna, which was a small glassed in cabin in the back of the marble room, and we three lied down on the heated marble slab.

When the men were called away for their massages, we took our turn in the sauna. There was an older Turkish gentleman that seemed a little put off by our presence, who left as soon as we opened the sauna door. It was fantastically steamy and hot; a really great feeling after a day of hiking. When we got out of the sauna to pour more cool water on ourselves, there was a young guy lying on the marble slab by himself, who watched us walk from the sauna into the water room. We naturally felt shy about it and rushed over the the room where we had more privacy, but there wasn't a door. My Australian friend suddenly gasped and we turned to discover that the guy was lying on his belly with his head turned to face us, and he was staring— not just looking in our direction, but wide-eyes-fixed STARING. So we edged further into the little room, hoping he woudn't see us. As soon as we moved out of sight, he slid on his belly like a seal, inching up the marble slab to spy on us. My friend shooed him away with a series of hand gestures and "Tssh!" sounds, and he walked off into the sauna room. Relieved, we laughed about it and relaxed, continuing our chatting. Suddenly, a larger gasp from my friend and we realised that he had wiped the fog off the glass sauna wall to stare at us! This really annoyed us, but luckily the hamam attendant (who was also male) came to take us away for our scrubs and massages. We told him about the guy and he was kicked out.

Apparently the little hamam in Ürgüp is only set up for women on Saturday. We were not told this, and only learned it from our male masseur. In any case, we had a fun time, and were more shocked by the amount of dead skin that was scrubbed off our arms and legs than the creepy guy. The massages were lovely, and we were also soaped up and shampooed with this warm foamy soap that felt amazing. We had our peştemals on the entire time of course, so we didn't feel very exposed. I'm going to have to try the Istanbul hamams to see what a segregated bath is like— a lot less creepy for sure!



After breakfast on Day Three, I checked out of my hotel and waited outside for the minibus to whisk me away for my third tour. I was surprised when Fatoş, the guide from Day One showed up in a car. I was the only one that signed up for that day's tour, she explained, so I threw my bag in the back seat and hopped in. A private tour for the price of a group tour!

Our first stop was the village of Mustafapaşa, known for its beautiful old Greek houses and the building known as Mehmet Şakir Pasha Madrasah, which was once a carpet shop but is now a vocational school. The doorway was especially beautiful and ornately carved, as you can see in the photo above.


This lady was chopping up wood to store for this year's winter.

We took a 30 minute drive to Soğanli Valley for a hike. It was another gorgeous day with just a few more clouds, lovely for a hike. There's a lot of farmland in this area, mostly used for growing grapes, potatoes, onions and lemons.


After the hike, we went to the town centre for the most delicious meal of the entire trip. Yes, there were bus loads of tourists, but this was natural, home-cooked and full of flavour. We were first presented with a fluffy village bread, olives, the creamiest most delicious butter I have ever had, fresh local cheese and honey with the most delicate flavour. I was in heaven. I could have been satisfied with just the starters, but then came the stew cooked in a clay pot— the region's traditional dish. I chose chicken as my meat, and it was the most moist and tender chicken I have ever eaten. The tomatoes and peppers were so full of flavour and not mushy, as one would expect they might be from simmering in juices in a sealed pot. I wish I had taken a picture of dessert, but I was too busy devouring it. The thickest, freshest tart yoghurt was served with pools of honey. This lunch made up for the other lunches, which were fine, but nothing I would spend time writing about.


During lunch it started to drizzle, then a massive rain storm rolled in. I was so lucky that the trip had been so sunny and warm so far, April is notorious for unpredictable weather. The temperature dropped, and fortunately since I had checked out of my hotel, I had my bag with me and could add a couple of layers to keep warm. We continued on to Keşlik, where an an ancient monastery carved into rocks stood.

On our way, Fatoş took me inside one of the many caves on the side of the road that are used today to store and bag potatoes for mass consumption. Some of these caves are so large that trucks can not only enter them, but turn around completely inside them. When you're driving along the road, you might notice chimneys popping up out of the ground on the hills. These are ventilation shafts for the underground storage caves. Lemons and onions are also stored in this fashion until they are ready to be sold around the country.


The monastery in Keşlik is one of the region's largest monasteries, with several churches carved into the rocks. You can only see the beautiful frescoes with the aid of a flashlight and the keen eye of the groundskeeper. It was too dark to take any pictures, but these two came out. The bottom picture is of graffiti from the late 1800s carved into the frescoes. At first I thought it was an offensive destructive sort of "I was here" type of thing, but Fatoş told me that they were in fact prayers carved by people into the frescoes. They believed that their wishes would be better listened to if written on the walls of churches.


The day ended with rain, and I was dropped off in the main square of Ürgüp, where I met up with my friends from the previous day for a few beers before getting on the bus home.


And yes— pinelopikappa, you are correct! Kapadokya comes from the old Persian name for the region, Katpatuka, which means "land of beautiful horses."

I had the most wonderful time, and there is so much more I need to see in Kapadokya, so I'll be returning sometime in the future. I highly recommend a trip to this beautiful place, I do feel that 'magical' is the best way to describe it.

kapadokya, day two

Waking up to silence and sunlight is one of the greatest feelings. I believe I may have been the only person in my hotel, as I didn't run into a single guest the entire visit, even at breakfast. While it is a basic accommodation, Kilim Otelli is a quiet 15 room bed and breakfast with plenty of hot water, clean rooms and a wonderful staff of friendly people. There's a minibar with snacks and juices, a TV full of Turkish channels— I hear TV watching is a great way to learn languages— and a simple and tasty complimentary breakfast of cheeses, bread, jams and boiled eggs. Perfect for a girl like me.

Around 9:30, a minibus picked me up for my second tour. The group was a bigger one this time, 12 people in all, lead by the lovely and knowledgeable Miss Şukran. Our first stop was the Red Valley for a four kilometer hike through the most remarkable landscape I have ever seen.


At the start of the hike, a man offered us dried fruits and nuts out of the back of his truck. I have a weakness for mulberries, and downed a fistful of them before he offered me something I have never seen or tasted before. I later learned that iğde, the reddish brown olive-like fruits in my hand below, are called oleaster, and are native to temperate and subtropical Asia.İğde has a papery skin that once removed, reveals a sweet, dry and spongy fruit around a smooth long pit. At first the texture was a bit odd, but after three or so, I was hooked.


I could have spent all day in that valley, the weather was warm and sunny, and I was having such a great time with my tourmates. I really can't describe just how wonderful it was, being right there amongst the rocks, birdwatching, climbing into caves and drinking natural spring water. Speaking of birds— the valley was full of rock doves, more commonly known as pigeons. Pigeons were an important part of Early Christian life in Kapadokya, they not only carried messages to others hiding in the hills, but were also eaten, and their droppings were a valuable fertiliser. Rock faces have thousands of small semicircular alcoves cut into them to house this special bird— you can see some in the image below. Being a fan of the pigeon, seeing these little houses and hearing the gentle cooing of the nesting birds was fantastic.


After the hike we had lunch at a touristy restaurant which had decent food— one of the things that I think needs improvement on these tour packages is the dining. Turkish cuisine is unbelievably good; some of the most delicious food I have ever eaten in the world was in Turkey, and yet the tour agencies have deals with certain restaurants that aren't necessarily representative of the deliciousness of the local cuisine. The food was good, but not what I had expected— lunch on Day Three however, was an entirely different story. That was divine.

We visited Kaymaklı, one of the many underground cities in Kapadokya, which are impressive but not recommended for those who get claustrophobic. All my photos were too dark, since I wasn't allowed to use a flash. Imagine tiny tunnels carved through rock that open into a network of caves. Some caves are bigger than others, some caves are painted chapels and some are blackened kitchens. At one point in time, around 5,000 people lived in Kaymaklı— hard to imagine when you are crawling through the maze of rough tunnels.

My tourmates, who had now become my new friends, and I got to wander around and climb in the ruins of a small Greek village that I believe was called Çavuşin— I can't seem to find it in my notes. The area was once populated by Greeks until the 1923 population exchange between Turkey and Greece, which involved around two million people. You can still feel the the sense of "home" in these crumbling structures— nooks are carved into stone for shelves, you can see decorative elements added for aesthetics, platforms for beds and blackened walls where stoves once stood.



Toward the end of the day, we visited a small onyx factory and learned about the local onyx trade. Here, a skilled craftsman is shaping an egg out of a very unassuming chunk of rock. In minutes, a beige opaque block was turned into a shiny, smooth stone of yellow, orange and cream swirls. I got to take the egg home when I correctly answered the gemstone expert's pop question: "Where does the name Kapadokya come from?"

I'll tell you at the end of the tour.


One of the most breathtaking views of the day was of Ortahisar Castle from a lookout point. It was straight out of the storybooks. Modern upon ancient, cement upon volcanic rock, it's truly magical. I stopped in one of the many, many roadside shops to see if there were any more knitted socks that I fancied, and ended up chatting with this lovely lady who showed me how to wrap a headscarf in the regional style. I promised I'd send her a copy of the picture. I'm thinking I'll send along a little drawing too.


Later on that night, two Italians, a Japanese, an Australian and a former San Franciscan ventured into a Turkish bath. Yes, it sounds like the beginning of a joke, and indeed it was an experience that left us with quite a story and many laughs. I think I might save that one for the next entry, as it's quite involved, and Day three will be a shorter post. Until then, I pose this question: do you know where Kapadokya got its name?

Coming next: Day Three.