#11 - Lebanon and Turkey
HE WHO STAYS AT HOME BESIDE HIS HEARTH AND IS CONTENT WITH THE INFORMATION WHICH HE MAY ACQUIRE CONCERNING HIS OWN REGION, CANNOT BE ON THE SAME LEVEL AS ONE WHO DIVIDES HIS LIFE SPAN BETWEEN DIFFERENT LANDS, AND SPENDS HIS DAYS JOURNEYING IN SEARCH OF PRECIOUS AND ORIGINAL KNOWLEDGE.
-- Al–Masudi, The Meadows of Gold
A jolt woke me sharply.
Waking out of a light nap, I peered out the window. The calm Mediterranean gently rolled in along the Syrian coast. I looked at my watch. January 20th. Exactly six months ago today I began this adventure.
I looked at the sea from the bus again.
I had reached the Mediterranean!
The feeling of elation was followed by a tinge of sadness.
The Mediterranean signaled I was on the last leg of this once-of-a-lifetime-journey.
We had left Aleppo and were heading to the port city of Tripoli, Lebanon’s second largest city. Arriving late at night we walked through the streets staring in surprise at the modern banks, sleek cars and signs in French boasting high speed internet. After 2 weeks in Syria, everything looked so shiny and new. It reminded me of Marseilles, minus the crime. Tim’s French came in handy navigating the old streets of Trablous until we found a pension run by a friendly Lebanese family.
The next day we visited the city’s market. While the merchandise was similar to what we had seen in Syria, one could not help but notice the subtle differences in goods, prices and cultures. The jewelry, falafel and clothing were of higher quality albeit more expensive, women were liberally dressed (many in Western attire) and storeowners spoke Arabic, French and English fluently. With dark clouds in the sky and rain scheduled for the afternoon we decided to head to Beirut.
If you were to ask an American in their fifties what comes to mind when you say Beirut most likely they will associate it with American hostages and a brutal civil war. Ask an American in their twenties and most likely they will associate it to the college drinking game (beer pong). It’s not hard to see why Lebanon has an image problem.
The country’s capital and largest city endured the brunt of the damage during the country’s devastating 15-year civil war (1975-90) during which 200,000 people were killed, tens of thousands left the country and the economy lost $30 billion in lost property and revenues. The town was divided by the infamous ‘Green Line’ which separated the Maronite Christian minority from the Muslim and Druze majority. Beirut’s downtown was obliterated as urban warfare between rival Christian and Muslim militias turned thousands of vibrant apartment blocks into gutted ruins.
At the end of the war, Lebanon received a multi-billion dollar package from the World Bank and IMF. Reconstruction has proceeded at a pace not seen since the rebuilding of Western Europe following World War II. Today, Lebanon proudly boasts having one of the highest standards of living in the Middle East, maintains the second highest literacy rate (Jordan is first) as well as has one of the highest internet penetration rates in the region. Banking on a brand new port and duty free zone, elegant 5-star hotels, fantastic cuisine and a sizzling nightlife this city of 1.5 million is poised to regain its status as a major financial center and resort in the years to come.
After a short 60-minute commuter bus ride along the dramatic coast we arrived Thursday afternoon during a torrential downpour. The Mediterranean had brought a nasty winter storm that would last the next 6 days. Weighing our options, we decided to wake up the next morning and head to Faraya to hit the slopes of Lebanon’s top ski resort. Up early, we found ourselves back in the pouring rain navigating the flooding streets. Flagging down a minibus to Dawra we got off 35 minutes later only to catch a second bus and tell the driver to let us off at a stop that sounded like ‘kelp’. From there we would find a servee (service taxi) to bring us to the mountain. Vague directions are far from ideal in a foreign country. A misunderstanding on the driver’s part brought us on a sight-seeing tour of the backstreets of Jounieh. Two hours later we were back at the stop that sounded like ‘kelp’. Jumping in a servee, only to wait another 45 minutes before it filled up, we arrived in Faraya after 5 hours of misadventures.
We looked around in search of chairlifts even though visibility was limited to 200 meters by the thick grey clouds. Cold and drenched yet optimistic that we would soon be on the slopes we spotted an open ski shop. Sitting around a gas heater, the storeowner and his 2 assistants watched us curiously through the window as we slogged through the ankle-deep snow and slush. Our excitement was short-lived. As a result of the storm, the 8km access road to the mountain had been closed.
‘WHAT SORT OF ADVENTURES?’ I ASKED HIM, ASTONISHED.
'ALL SORTS, MONSIEUR. GETTING ON THE WRONG TRAIN. STOPPING IN AN UNKNOWN CITY. LOSING YOUR BRIEFCASE, BEING ARRESTED BY MISTAKE, SPENDING THE NIGHT IN PRISON. MONSIEUR, I BELIEVE THE WORD ADVENTURE COULD BE DEFINED: AN EVENT OUT OF THE ORDINARY WITHOUT BEING NECESSARILY EXTRAORDINARY.'
--Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea (1964)
We kicked ourselves for not calling the mountain to get a ski report.
With the day shot we decided to make up for it that evening by checking out the Middle East’s best nightlife. Putting a dent in a bottle of scotch to cushion our bank accounts from club-priced cocktails we set off for BO18 at midnight. Dropped off in an empty parking lot in the port’s warehouse district the setting felt eerily familiar. Miami’s infamous Space nightclub share similar surroundings. We were told that Beirut’s legendary nightclub was a former underground bunker during the Civil War. Tim stayed in the taxi as I hopped out and asked for directions from the only guy around. Pointing towards a set of hatchway doors that opened skyward, I walked toward the stairwell that led underground. Upon approaching you could begin to make out the rhythmic thumping of bass percolating from the ground.
Walking down the stairwell, we came to a solid metal door with a small steel sliding panel at eye level. We took a look at each other. Dressed appropriately for a bunker (hiking boots, beige convertible pants, black North Face fleece) not a fashionable nightclub, we shrugged, pushed open the heavy door and entered a dimly lit lounge contemporarily designed. The walls were deep red velvet and a dozen or two small VIP tables illuminated by candles with leather benches took center stage in the front of the club. More surprising then the club’s chic design was that the place was empty.
“What now, Mr. Miami?” Tim sarcastically asked.
Being shafted twice in a day was not cool.
I looked at my watch. 12:30 am. I shook my head in confusion. I figured that we would be arriving at ‘fashionably’ the right time.
“Let’s grab a drink” my safeguard reply.
Walking casually past the VIP tables we headed to the back where the dance floor and bar were located. Sitting down in tall stylish swivel chairs that belonged in the cockpit of the Starship Enterprise I ordered a round. Pouring 2 stiff drinks the bartender came back only to tell me in flawless English that it would be 34,000 Lebanese liras. Trying not to flinch, I handed over $22 worth of Lebanese currency. For South Beach-equivalent nightlife, you pay South Beach-equivalent prices.
With Chivas Regals’ assistance we enjoyed each others company and didn’t realize the nightclub had begun to full up until Naji Gubran took the helm of the turntables at 2:30 am. Smoothly transitioning from slower, banging tribal house he had the crowd quickly dancing to lighter, funky deep house. As the night wore on and space on the dance floor became limited, beautiful women danced seductively on the VIP tables as 2 pairs of American eyes stared them up and down. Equally impressive was the club’s roof. When the DJ felt that he had stirred up the crowd to its boiling point, the hydraulic pump lifted the bunker’s roof skyward.
I was on the verge of grabbing another drink at 5:30am when I looked at my wallet only to find 5,000 of the necessary 10,000 lira needed to get home.
FEW THINGS ARE MORE RIDICULOUS THAN THE SPECTACLE OF A "BUDGET TRAVELER" LOSING HIS TEMPER AT A RICKSHAW DRIVER OVER $0.10, WHILE NEGOTIATING A RIDE TO A BAR WHERE HE'LL BLOW $10 ON BEER.
--Rolf Potts, Vagabonding (2003)
Needless to say, Tim’s French came in handy as we fiercely negotiated our cab fare.
Over the next few days we worked off our hangovers while calling Faraya each morning with the hope that the access road had been cleared. Saturday afternoon we braved the storm and set out on a self-guided walking tour of central Beirut. Beginning at the rebuilt Martyr’s Square one can’t help but notice the blend of old and new; Bombed-out buildings stand humbly next to a Virgin Megastore and modern skyscrapers as M-series BMWs, Porsche Cayenne’s and H2’s speed pass. Passing through the ultra-chic newly renovated downtown I couldn’t help but chuckle at the Roman ruins squeezed in between a TGI Fridays and a church. Equally impressive were the trash cans, municipal workers with brooms and dustpans, and billboards encouraging the protection of the few remaining Lebanese Cedars. While Amman was tidy, Beirut was far and away the most modern, western and cosmopolitan city we had yet to visit in the Middle East. Walking through the campus of the American University of Beirut in Hamra we witnessed a beautiful sunset at Beirut’s distinguishable natural landmark, the Pigeon Rocks. That evening we planned to take it easy, failing miserably. We hit up Pacifico and Hole in the Wall, two bumping bars in Beirut’s Achrafieh borough.
Descending from the snow-capped Anti-Lebanon Mountains into the sunny Bekáa Valley on Monday morning, we went through a number of military check points on our way to Baalbek. The headquarters of Hezbollah, the radical Islamic political party and resistance group, the town has been a no-go zone for over a decade. Fortunately however, the area has opened its doors and encourages tourists to visit the ancient site of Heliopolis. Bundled in our warmest clothes, we had the entire sprawling compound to ourselves. Climbing up the monumental gateway (Propylaeum), you find yourself in an enormous octagonal-shaped forecourt which leads into the massive Great Court of the Temple of Jupiter. While we had been to our fair share of Roman ruins, standing next to the 22.9 meter (75 feet) high Corinthian columns was worth visiting the site in itself. The largest temple in the entire Roman Empire, the structure stood 49 x 88 m. The temple appears to have been built on an artificial mound of earth, with great stones, or megaliths, employed to sustain this mass. Of these megaliths, three are in position at the western end, one of them measuring an extraordinary 20 m x 4.3 m x 3.6 m.
As a result of an earthquake in 1759, portions of the elaborate entablature lay scattered on the ground. Standing next to pieces of the decorated roof one realizes how it was specifically designed with accentuated features in order to be seen from 60 feet below. While the sheer size of the Temple of Jupiter humbles the visitor, the spectacularly ornate Temple of Bacchus leaves the visitor stupefied. Referred to as the ‘little temple’ in ancient times, it is larger than the Parthenon and is commonly regarded by archaeologists as the best persevered Roman temple in the world.
Wednesday morning, our bags were packed and we were ready to head to Turkey. We had been calling Faraya for 5 days straight and the access road had still yet to open. However, luck was on our side. Quickly repacking our daypacks we headed up to the mountain. This time around it took us less then two hours to travel from the Mediterranean to Swiss Chalets. Arriving just after noon, we rented gear ($8 for Atomic parabolic skis, poles and boots, $10 for a snowboard and boots) and enthusiastically jumped on the high-speed quads. As Tim examined the trail map I excitedly stared at 7 days worth of fresh powder.
THE REASON VAGABONDING IS SO APPEALING IS THAT IT PROMISES TO SHOW YOU THE DESTINATIONS AND EXPERIENCES YOU’VE DREAMED ABOUT; BUT THE REASON VAGABONDING IS SO ADDICTIVE IS THAT, JOYFULLY, YOU’LL NEVER QUITE FIND WHAT YOU DREAMED. INDEED, THE MOST VIVID TRAVEL EXPERIENCES USUALLY FIND YOU BY ACCIDENT, AND THE QUALITIES THAT WILL MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE WITH A PLACE ARE RARELY THE FEATURES THAT TOOK YOU THERE.
Rolf Potts, Vagabonding (2003)
Our patience had paid off. According to the diehard expatriates playing hooky from work this was the best skiing and snowboarding in years. Not to mention that we were blessed with a spectacularly sunny sky. As we took the second chairlift to the top of Mzaar you could clearly see Beirut 2465 meters (8200 feet) below. The skiing was so spectacular, slopes so empty and day so perfect we splurged $18 dollars each and got a hotel room for a night to stay for another day of epic skiing. Skiing virgin powder down the treeless slopes while looking out over the green Bekáa Valley is a memory that will last a lifetime. An avid skier, I would have to rank our time in Faraya as two of the best days of skiing in my life.
Our 9 days in this tiny Middle Eastern country were fantastic however I do have one regret. One morning, Tim and I went to Samra, a much poorer part of Beirut. Our intention was to pick up some inexpensive, warm clothes for Turkey. Wandering through the backstreets and dirty alleyways we came across an area that was easily the poorest place we had seen in the Middle East.
Speaking briefly with a friendly local we soon found out that we were in a Palestinian section of the city. When asked what we were doing, we simply explained we were shopping for cheap clothing. When asked how much longer we were planning on staying (to which we replied 20 minutes), he looked saddened. It was obvious this taxi driver would have very much liked to show us around his neighborhood. He was encouraged to see two Americans witnessing for themselves what terrible fate had dealt his people. Upon saying our goodbyes he asked that we did not forget what we had seen.
I surely did not forget the horrible inequality or severe poverty of their situation nor did I forget this man’s kindness or hope for a better future. I regret not getting a better-rounded understanding of the Palestinian-Israeli dilemma while in Lebanon. As modern as Beirut appeared downtown it was merely a façade. It was then I realized that BO18, Faraya and sightseeing were only accessible to a small minority of the local population.
During our short stay in Lebanon we could not help but note how different Lebanon was from the other countries we had visited in the region. From the quality of the National Museum to the Western-style shopping centers to the liberal attitudes towards religion. Despite the city’s contrasts, cosmopolitan Beirut with its European ambience, favorable climate, rich history and accessible outdoor activities is an amazing place to visit or even live.
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From Beirut we headed north to Syria where we obtained a 24-hour transit visa only to continue on to the Turkish city of Antakya (ancient Antioch). Almost immediately I noticed significant differences between Turkey and what we had seen in the rest of the Middle East. Not since 14 countries ago in South Africa, had I seen such an extensive and developed highway infrastructure. Furthermore, everything was in Turkish. With a population of 68 million, magazines such as National Geographic, FHM, Esquire and Cosmopolitan find it worthwhile to offer their monthly periodicals in the local dialect. There was also this photo in a newspaper of a high school basketball team. The article caught my eye not because the team had won their province championship but rather because it was a girl’s team. While far from extraordinary to the Western reader, this would have been unthinkable in the other Middle Eastern countries we had visited. I was beginning to realize that we were no longer in the Middle East.
Lying at the crossroads of Asia and Europe, Turkish culture varies widely as you travel around the enormous country. Additionally, religious ties, strategic alliances and economic interests have shaped and continue to shape Turkey to what it is today. To the observer, it appears that it is currently undergoing an interesting transitional period. While it holds tightly on to its traditional way of life the country seems to have one foot in the past and one in the future. Many Turks of my generation have moved to the large cities in seek of advancement while their parents, having never left the village they were born to, follow the same trade as their ancestors.
On our first morning in Turkey, we visited Antakya’s famous mosaics museum. Later that morning we set off on a 4-hour bus ride to Adana where we caught a second bus to Göreme (5½ hours). Located in the heart of Cappadocia, Göreme lies southeast of Ankara. The magical land of fairy chimneys, underground cities and warm hospitality was our primary reason for visiting Turkey.
FOR THOSE WHO THINK THEY’VE SEEN IT ALL, THINK AGAIN….. A TRIP TO THE STEPPES OF CENTRAL ANATOLIA IS THE NEXT BEST THING TO INTERGALACTIC TRAVEL, AT A FRACTION THE COST AND INCONVENIENCE.
-- Patricia Schultz, 1,000 Places to See
Before You Die (2003)
With a backdrop straight out of Tatuine (Star Wars), the beige and maroon conical towers, pointy spires and bizarre rock formations make this region unlike any other in the world. The volcanic eruptions of Melendiz, Erciyes and Gollu thirty million years ago covered the area in ash, later hardening into a soft porous stone called tufa. When the tufa has prolonged exposure to air it hardens. Over millions of years, the landscape has been eerily sculpted by wind, rain and erosion. Archaeological evidence indicates humans have been living in the region for over 4 millennia sculpting the tufa into storerooms, homes, churches and underground cities.
Finding the village empty we set off on our first day to explore the Göreme Open-Air Museum which boasts a rock-hewn nunnery, a Monastery that soars five stories into the sky and over a dozen cave churches that date as far back as the 8th century. While the 1000-year old murals in the churches of St Basel and Elmah are impressive, they pale in comparison to the interior of Karanlik Church. Entering through a winding tunnel the church opens into a barrel-vaulted narthex. There are 3 small graves dug into the ground while the frescoes are fantastically preserved. Judas’ betrayal and other scenes from the bible are painted in vibrant yellows, blues, grays, golds and blacks.
Leaving the Open Air Museum, we set out to explore the countless fairy chimneys scattered throughout the Meskendir and Rose Valleys. Fairy chimneys are oddly shaped conical structures. They resemble the piles of sand created by dribbling wet sand out of the palm of your hand. Nevertheless, these structures are not 3 inches tall but rather soar up to 30 meters skyward!
Walking through the labyrinth canyons we found our way past ancient homes carved into the rock. Using finger holes dug into the canyon walls, we climbed up the Dark Age version of a ladder and explored the cave-like structures. Continuing through 300 meter-long tunnels, we eventually arrived at an opening in the valley. The opening appeared to be a village center in ancient times. There were a number of larger buildings hewn into the rock which were most likely taverns or other public buildings. The Kilicar Church sat in the center of the small square and was unique in the fact that it was the first building we had seen that had a shingled roof.
The next morning we were picked up at 8 am and set off for a day-tour of the region. Driving 60 minutes to the village of Derinkuyu our guide led us to a door where we were brought down a tunnel into a subterranean room. Built by the Hittites roughly 3000 years ago and later used by the Romans, the cities were built not for permanent residence but rather protection in a region that was the highway for ancient warring empires in Asia Minor. In Roman times, the cities were used predominately for religious purposes during the iconoclastic period (3rd-6th century BC). Banned from using any form of religious imagery, early Christians were forced to practice in secret. The cities were lost to the outside world until 1965. Since then, over 40 have been rediscovered and evidence indicates more lie hidden underground. While civilizations have built subterranean structures for centuries what makes the underground cities of Cappadocia so remarkable are their sheer size, fortifications and pristine condition.
Derinkuyu which means ‘Deep Well’ in Turkish is the largest of the underground cities. Our guide told us that while 7 floors are open to the public this represents only 10% of the city’s total area. She explained how fresh air flowed into the city through the strategically placed ventilation shafts. Sophisticated organization enabled water to be transported from the underground natural well throughout the city to nourish the city’s 7,000 inhabitants. Even more remarkable is that Cappadocians were able to sustain their troglodyte existence for up to a month.
The first level was reserved for livestock. There were holes in the wall at waist height for water and grain as well as ledges for candles and lamps that ran on linseed oil. Dropping to the 2nd level, you enter into the mutfak (kitchen) which has a round hole in the ceiling that functioned as a chimney. Much to the fortune of the city’s inhabitants, the porous tufa absorbs fumes which aided in concealing the city’s underground location. The walls had built-in shelving for food storage as well as a large hole in the ground to wash ceramic dishes. Food was stored in pottery on the 3rd floor. The tufa doubles as an insulator maintaining 13-14˚ C (56-60˚ F) year round. To this day, Cappadocians store food and drink in fairy chimneys following the same tradition their ancestors have done for thousands of years. Between the 4th and 5th floors was a narrow tunnel, 8 km in length that connected Derinkuyu with Kaymakli, the 2nd largest underground city. While the Hittites were naturally tall people, the tunnels were made tiny for their own protection. As we penetrated deeper our guide pointed out the circular 200 kg security doors. When rolled into place, the 10-centimeter thick doors were impossible to open from the higher floor. Additionally, the corridors double backed in an ‘L’ shape with strategically positioned windows to attack intruders. The kilise (church) and misyonerler okulu (missionary) are located on the 7th floor, 70 meters (230 feet) below ground. These larger rooms were equipped with a semicircular notch for confessions, basins in the floor to press grapes, a dugout table with benches and a ledge at the end for the priest. Exploring the dark, cave-like levels of Derinkuyu I felt that we had been teleported to the imaginary realm of Middle-Earth in The Lord of the Rings.
Leaving the claustrophobic confines of the underground city we reemerged to the crisp, dry winter air as the snow-capped mountains of Mt Hasan and Melendiz towered above. Driving 90 minutes we arrived at Ilhara Canyon, which at 100 meters deep and 16 kilometers long is the 5th largest canyon in the world. Walking for an hour along the banks of the cool river we saw no fewer than 25 monasteries carved into the canyon’s tan walls. After lunch in the canyon we were picked up and headed to the Selime Monastery. Built during the 7th century it was home to over 50 monks. Derinkuyu aside, the Monastery was the most impressive structure we saw during our 5 days in Cappadocia. I found that using carved out hand holds it was possible to crawl up the partially collapsed staircase. A maze of dark passage ways, secret rooms and inner chambers make the towering 7-story structure so appealing to explore. It was on our way back to Göreme I found out that I was not incorrect in comparing Cappadocia to Tatuine. Our guide told us that the original Star Wars had in fact been filmed here.
Of all Cappadocia’s magic, the greatest must be the warmth shown by the locals. While the booming tourist industry along Turkey’s Aegean coast has greatly assisted with the region’s rapid economic development, it has also led to the decline in traditional Turkish outgoingness towards foreigners. While Cappadocia is no stranger to tourism, it has successfully been able to maintain a traditional way of life with a strong emphasis on family, food and hospitality.
The night before our tour to Derinkuyu, I was leaving an internet café when I was greeted with a friendly smile by a group of 5 or 6 Turks. Striking up a conversation in English with Mustafa and Murat, we chatted in the cold, dry side street for about 30 minutes. I was about to head back to the hostel when Mustafa invited me over for a drink. Alone at night in a new country with my money belt full with millions of Turkish lira I was a bit hesitant to accept. While my gut told me to relax my common sense told me to keep my guard up. In the end, I followed Mustafa up a dark alley and into a fairy chimney whose interior was under construction. I walked through the dimly lit hallway until we came to a thick wooden door. Opening the door without knocking, we entered a warm and cozy one-room apartment. Upon meeting Allison, I relaxed immediately and took a seat on the couch next to the wood-burning stove. Handed an Efes pilsner I slowly began to warm up from the frigid air of the Central Anatolian night. Taking a look around the inside of the rock-hewn apartment, I could not help but chuckle. While it had been lived in for hundreds of years and Turkish carpets adorned the floor, it also had internet access and cable TV.
Allison had been traveling in Asia and was on the last leg of her trip when she arrived in Cappadocia. With only a few weeks before beginning her stint with the Peace Corps, she met Mustafa and has been in Turkey ever since. Dating for nearly three years, two of the friendliest people you could ever meet have agreed to tie the knot in September.
It was a Sunday night and the beginning of Kurban Bayrami. Similar to the American holiday of Thanksgiving, families gather and old friends visit to share stories, laughs and delicious food. As rarely seen friends from Istanbul stopped by, Allison doubled as my translator and cultural interpreter filling me in on the conversations around the room. Not only did it help that Allison was able to provide me with insight into Turkish customs and traditions, it helped that she was an American. Due in part to our similar upbringings I felt comfortable asking questions that I would feel too personal or awkward to ask a Turk.
When asked about her wedding she gave me a brief summary of the structure to Turkish weddings: everyone in the village is invited, everyone must bring a gift, the only acceptable gift is cash, the amount of the gifts are announced over the Mosque’s loudspeaker, festivities continue for 5-7 days, music is blared over the loudspeakers for the entire village to hear, you gain a lot of weight. We also discussed how Turkey is changing today and how tourism is positively and negatively affecting their village. For the first time on the trip I was also able to speak freely with a local woman to get her perspective on Muslim society. Upon leaving at 2 am, Mustafa enthusiastically invited me to stop by the following day.
After a full day of sightseeing, I was heading back to their apartment with Tim. My American notion of hospitality had me slightly concerned. The last thing I wanted was to take advantage of Mustafa’s and Allison’s generosity, particularly during Bayrami. Upon entering the apartment and embracing a welcoming Mustafa, my awkwardness dissipated. We would spend the rest of the evening as well as much of the next day enjoying their generosity, delicious food and company.
HERE'S WHAT I LOVE ABOUT TRAVEL: STRANGERS GET A CHANCE TO AMAZE YOU. SOMETIMES A SINGLE DAY CAN BRING A BLOOMING SURPRISE, A SIMPLE KINDNESS THAT OPENS A CHINK IN THE BRITTLE SHELL OF YOUR HEART AND MAKES YOU A DIFFERENT PERSON WHEN YOU GO TO SLEEP -- MORE TENDER, LESS JADED -- THAN YOU WERE WHEN YOU WOKE UP.
--Tanya Shaffer, "Looking for Abdelati" Salon, Feb. 7, 1999
Everyone speaks about the friendliness and hospitality of the Turks. Tim and I definitely experienced it first-hand. For them, hospitality is an integral component of their culture. Even though it was one of the most important holidays in the Muslim calendar reserved for friends and family Mustafa and Allison did not even think twice to open their doors to two strangers. For 2 backpackers in a foreign land it meant the world. The hospitality shown by Mustafa, Allison, Murat and the rest of the Göreme gang would go unmatched for the rest of our stay in the country. Our time spent with them will forever remain as my fondest memory of Turkey.
Sad to leave our friends, we set off on a 9-hour bus ride to Antalya only to catch another 2-hour dolmuş (minibus) ride to Olympus where we spent the next 3 nights in a tree house at Kadir’s Yörük Top Tree House Lodge (www.kadirstreehouses.com). While Kadir’s is a well-known destination on the European-backpacking circuit being early February, we had the entire place to ourselves. Tim was in his element exploring the unexcavated ancient Roman city of Olympus as I relaxed and caught up in my journal on the beautiful rocky beach. One night we walked 8 kilometers to the Chіmaera, a natural gas that ignites when it comes in contact with the air. According to the ancient Greeks, the flames were the subterranean fire-breathing monster killed by the Greek hero Bellerophon. While the flames pale in comparison to what they were in ancient times, it is still impressive to look out over the Aegean as the bright moon rises in the dark evening sky with a good friend at hand.
Jumping a dolmuş to the resort town of Demre we caught a second bus to Fethiye. This 4-hour stretch of windy road is privileged to have one of the finest coastlines in the world. Cliffs drop perilously hundreds of meters into the turquoise waters of the Mediterranean. Countless coves and islands dot the coastline as snow capped peaks of Bey Mountain National Park provide a stunning backdrop. Winding around the never-ending set of hairpin turns, Turkish drivers zoom dangerously past. Small fishing villages hug the steep mountains as oversized yachts look out of place docked in their tiny harbors. As we headed north and inland from Patara (birthplace of St Nicholas, a.k.a. ‘Santa’) we were blessed with a beautiful orange-brown sunset over the mountainous landscape.
We used Fethiye as a base to visit the famous Blue Lagoon of Ölüdeniz. Regarded as one of the most beautiful beaches in the Mediterranean, the steep forested green hills climb steeply from the sea’s tranquil waters. There was very little activity that Sunday afternoon with the exception of the paragliders coasting overhead. Our next destination was the town of Selcuk where we stayed to visit Ephesus, one of the best-preserved ancient cities on the Mediterranean and home of the Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. While the Library of Celsus and the Great Theater (which held 25,000 spectators) exceeded expectations we had already been spoiled by Petra, Jerash, Palmyra and Baalbek.
Next on our agenda was the rarely visited town of Bergama, an ancient city that was capital of the kingdom of Pergamum. The site sits majestically on a steep acropolis. Pergamum impressed for its spectacularly steep theater (with seating for 10,000) and lack of camera-toting tourists. From Bergama we headed to the legendary city of Troy. While we had been warned that there is very little left of this small and confusing site, we were confident that our guidebook, the site’s detailed descriptions and Tim’s understanding of archaeology would provide us with a clear picture of the site. We could not have been more mistaken. Perhaps it would have been enough had it not been for the blinding blizzard that began minutes after arriving. We were left with no alternative but run through the site, quickly snapping pictures as the gale force wind and pelting snow bit our frozen cheeks. While Tim was disappointed with a rushed visit to the legendary site, I was devastated that we were not able to catch a glimpse of Brad Pitt as he led the charge against the city’s defenses.
The atypical blizzard would continue late into the next day leaving the roads impassible and stranding us in the town of Çannakle. While we had planned to use Çannakle as a base to visit the Gallipoli battlefields (where the ANZAC - Australian and New Zealand Army Corps - forces suffered their devastating defeat to the Ottoman Empire in World War I) that plan was out of the question. The Dardanelles had turned into a violent mess, docking the ferries.
Leaving on the first bus out in 3 days, we headed 6 hours northeast arriving in Istanbul on February 14th. While I visited the awe-inspiring Aya Sofya and beautifully ornate Blue Mosque, it was about all the sight-seeing I had left in me. Accepting a position to instruct kiteboarding 2 weeks prior, my focus had shifted to the logistics of returning to the States. While I had lost my drive to continue traveling, I promised myself that I would make it back to Turkey one day to give the amazingly beautiful, vibrantly diverse and friendly country the justice it rightfully deserves.
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At the end of Wanderlust #7, I provided a brief summary of some observations I witnessed while in sub-Saharan Africa. I would like to do the same for the Middle East. Again, I do not profess to be an expert after a mere 2 1/2 months visiting 5 of the 15 countries in the region. But given the fact that a large number of people will never feast with locals in a hammam in Aleppo, sleep underneath the stars in Wadi Rum, or dance until dawn in Beirut, I would like to take this opportunity to dispel a few misconceptions commonly held by Westerners. While these are gross generalizations I think that if you were to ask other travelers, they would tend to agree with my observations.
• The region is extremely diverse - culturally, religiously, economically, politically and socially. While in Beirut, we met an Argentinean journalist and Spanish flight attendant who had traveled extensively throughout the region. From them we learned that the skyscrapers of Dubai (UAE) are more modern then Tokyo, Iranian food is delicious and men in Yemen wear jambiyyas (curved dagger) around their waist. We realized then that we had a lot more to see in the Middle East.
• Due in part to age-old laws, theft is rarely a concern for travelers in the region.
• Islam, and to a lesser degree Arabic, is the common element that unites the region. However, as in all religions there are many different sects and degrees of devoutness. In addition to Islam, Christianity and Judaism are also practiced. Outside of Israel there are small, yet tightly-knit Jewish communities. The Copts of Egypt, Maronites in Lebanon and Greek Orthodox of Jordan represent a few denominations of Christianity that have been following the teachings of the New Testament for centuries.
• Middle Easterners, Egyptians and Syrians in particular, need a major health campaign to educate its population on the harmful effects of nicotine. The only billboards or media that we saw were a handful of posters in Palmyra and Hama. On that note, the reduction of coffee and tea consumption to less then a pot of each per day may make the roads a bit safer.
• Accustomed to subliminal marketing so prevalent in our own culture we found very little of it while traveling. Marketing is much more ‘in your face’ with the locals hawking their goods in front of their shops. Interestingly enough, had we not been told by a local Kurban Bayrami was in a few day’s time we very possibly would have missed it until it was upon us. Even though this was one of the most religious holidays of the year, it did not have the feel that big holidays like Christmas have in the Western world. Fortunately, the overly excessive commercialism we see in our culture is a non-issue in the Middle East.
• The role of women varies greatly throughout the region. The more conservative the society (Egypt and Syria) the greater the restrictions are for advancement (NOTE: Advancement as defined by Western (Judeo-Christian) society). While I would say that Jordan is more conservative then Lebanon or Turkey, given that it has been a ‘limited monarchy’ with a king and queen for the past 50 years, women have faired better than elsewhere in the region. Lebanon, the land of the ancient sea-fairing Phoenicians, has always been less inward-looking then the rest of the region and the fact that Turkey has been secular since the founding of the Turkish Republic by Atatürk (1923), are two factors that have assisted with women’s advancement in each of their respective societies.
• The region is much more than a big desert. While Egypt, Jordan and eastern Syria is mostly desert, the Orontes Valley (western Syria) and Bekáa Valley are lush, well-suited for growing agriculture. Northern Syria and the Hatay Province (where Antakya is located) brought to mind Bavaria. The enormous country of Turkey has it all; plateaus, rocky plains, dramatic coastlines, snow-capped mountains and of course, legendary Cappadocia.
• Your biggest concern in the region should NOT be getting hijacked by terrorists. American’s perceive travel abroad as dangerous. The media portrays the Middle East as dangerous but the ‘dangers’ that prevent people from traveling here are almost non-existent. It is just that the ‘dangers’ are much higher profile, news-worthy, Hollywood-esque. If and when anything happens, it is on the front page of the newspaper. The odds of getting hijacked or injured by a suicide bombing (which are occurring ONLY in localized trouble spots) is not even on the radar screen compared to injury or death from a car accident. Robert Young Pelton, in his book ‘The World’s Most Dangerous Places’ ranks the cities of America as significantly more dangerous than almost all of the countries in the Middle East. For every terrorist you see on CNN, you meet a million more teachers, bakers, lawyers, taxi drivers that share the same values as you and I – a love for their family, pride in their country and devotion for their faith.
With that being said, it would be naïve to think that everyone loves Americans. To conservative Arabs, American foreign policy is an aggressive attack on their existence and independence. Combine that with our culture, a way of life that defies many core components of their society, and it is not hard to understand their disdain. Just as a your grandmother or grandfather does not want to change their habits, a society that has been devoutly living by the teachings of Mohammed for 1300 years does not want to adopt new ways of life - as much as the current American Presidential Administration would like to think.
In Baalbek, Tim with his blonde hair and blue eyes received unfriendly looks. However, Baalbek is the headquarters for Hezbollah. Well-worn posters of the martyrs that have died for their cause hang from light posts on the main road. The martyrs’ names are announced over the mosque’s loudspeaker each day. With that being said, if you were to wear an anti-Bush t-shirt in a conservative town in America you probably will get nasty looks from the locals (I did – at a supermarket in North Carolina). Nevertheless, if there are a thousand members in the Michigan Militia only a few of them are extreme enough blow up a federal building in Oklahoma City.
Researching and avoiding potential danger zones, refraining from voicing political views, humbly and patiently accepting local customs and traditions, using common sense and the willingness to smile make this region completely safe for travel.
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DREAM IT. PLAN IT. DO IT.
-- National Geographic Adventure slogan
It was a few minutes before 6 am on February 20th when I said goodbye to Tim, hoisted my framepack over my shoulders and cinched down the waist belt for the final time. Walking past the stunning Aya Sofya a cleric’s voice abruptly broke the early winter morning silence. As the call to prayer melodically flowed from the minaret, I thought back on the trip of a lifetime and how much I had learned. Months ago the call to prayer would have stopped me in my tracks. This morning, it stopped me in my tracks for a different reason. It would be a while before I would here this peaceful, refreshing element to my day again. Traveling from the southern tip of Africa to the banks of the Bosporus “in search of precious and original knowledge” I proudly achieved my dream.
Stay tuned for Wanderlust #12 – Reflections, where I take a look back at my overland journey from Cape Town to Istanbul.
Stay in touch!
Kind regards,
Dave
davidmlawrence@yahoo.com
For previous updates, check out http://wanderlust.on.journeyfile.com
ALL MEN DREAM, BUT NOT EQUALLY. THOSE WHO DREAM BY NIGHT IN THE DUSTY RECESSES OF THEIR MINDS WAKE UP IN THE DAY TO FIND THAT IT WAS IN VANITY; BUT THE DREAMERS OF THE DAY ARE DANGEROUS MEN, FOR THEY MAY ACT THEIR DREAM WITH OPEN EYES, TO MAKE IT POSSIBLE. THIS I DID.
--T.E. Lawrence, Seven Pillars of Wisdom (1922)
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