Antiochus' Megalomania

July 21-22  Midyat to Mardin to Nemrut Dagi (Mt. Nemrut)

We awoke in the Shmayaa Hotel in Midyat to a wonderful breakfast. We ate in the beautiful courtyard, and for the first time since India, we were served breakfast rather than a buffet. And by a waitress no less, a rarity in the parts of Turkey we have visited.

Midyat is not too big and we got out of there without getting lost based on the directions of the hotel manager. It was less than an hour’s drive to Mardin and in the interest of time, we passed up several sites to go directly there. The old, and very well preserved, part of Mardin is a very ancient city that overlooks the Mesopotamian plains and was part of early civilizations in the Fertile Crescent. As with other cities in this area, it has been overrun by various conquerors. Until recently it was dominated by Assyrian Christians who, like those in Midyat, during the last century, either were killed or fled so that now many big churches stand underused.  Also like other cities in the area, it was until recently a stronghold of the PKK (depending upon your view, either a terrorist organization according to the Turks or freedom fighters for the Kurds), but that guerrilla war has shifted to a political phase.

The old town cascades down a steep hillside that is dominated by a castle on the top. The people lived in honey-colored stone houses that flow down the hill and line a labyrinth of narrow meandering lanes. Thus, while it was easy to find, it was very difficult to drive in that area. What should have been one-way streets were frequently the sites of vehicle confrontations. We were fortunate to find a parking space within walking distance of our target, the Sakip Sabanci Mardin City Museum (as in the US, if you give a lot of money to a cultural institution you get to put your name on the institution). It is a recent museum that is housed in an old, restored army barracks. Its exhibits display the story of Mardin’s history and culture and its multicultural past. Most importantly, it had excellent English language translations. Downstairs there was an art gallery focusing on photographs showing how the east was observed by the west. Best of all they admitted seniors for free.

We were facing a long drive to Mt. Nemrut so we passed on Mardin’s other attractions and attempted to make our way back down the hill, initially without success. Then I got behind two delivery trucks and just followed them as they made opposing traffic back up.

On the highway we stopped for gasoline. We were greeted by a young attendant who, after filling the tank, offered us tea and seats in his group. There was little common language, but liberal use of Google Translate. Turns out the station seemed to be a family affair. He is married and has a 3-month-old child whose pictures he showed us. In addition to several other adults and a couple of children, he brought over his father, and then his grandfather who was identified as the boss. Second cups of tea emerged and offers of cola. We also received the usual box of tissues.  They liked our pictures of Turkey and reviewing the places we had been, but they erupted in wild laughter when we showed them the picture of the cow on the street and immediately yelled, “India.”     

We continued driving north, around Diyarbakir and then west through Siverek. We needed to purchase some Turkish lira since were down to our last 100, but the hotels and restaurants seemed to take credit cards (we were told reluctantly, since all credit card transactions are reported to the government, thereby coming within view of the tax authorities) and since I was concerned that going into these big cities would at best cause delay, and at worst cause me to get lost, I was hoping to find a bank in a smaller town. However the banks seem to have abandoned the smaller towns so when we stopped for gas again, and our credit cards did not work so our lira supply was further depleted. We had lots of bottled water, but it was all hot from being in the car, so to quench thirst we were buying cold water at each stop.

When we arrived at the mountain area the roads became steep and windy, second-gear territory. No guard rails or safety barriers here. One wrong turn and you tumble over a cliff. Our Pension was in the village of Karadut. As we approached it, we were blocked for a time by a working back hoe and then approached by a man who solicited our business for his hotel.  Our pension was pretty basic, but the rooms were clean and the bathroom worked. There was a large, partially covered terrace in the back with sweeping views of the valley where a tasty, plentiful barbeque dinner was served. The sky was powdered with stars. Most of the staff did not speak English, but they were very helpful.  The downside was that there was no air-conditioning in our room [It advertised air conditioning and I did not check to see if other rooms had it.] and even throughout the night it was hot.

The next day we lounged on the terrace in the morning. I was getting lazy, so we agreed to a tour with our host at the pension--more like he served as the driver--of the mountain in the afternoon. Nemrut Dagi did not come to the attention of the west until the 19^th century when German Captain von Molke (later the Field Marshall who masterminded the WWI plan for the Germans on the western front)  noted it as a cartography point and referenced the monuments in Arsameia on the side of the mountain. However, it was not until late in the century when a German railroad engineer discovered the statues on the top of the mountain.

Most of the monuments and statues were created in the first century BC by Antiochus I, ruler of Commagene. He negotiated a non-aggression pact with Rome, effectively becoming a buffer for Rome against attacks from the east by the Parthians, with whom Antiochus also cultivated good relations. Apparently all these good relations engendered delusions of grandeur and he built the monuments, statues and funeral mound.

The sites are spread out around the mountain. The route covered over 100km over steep and sometimes unpaved roads, so the tour was a good investment. There was almost too much to see. The Cendere Bridge spans a river of the same name. It was built by the Romans in the 2d century. I waded into the river and crossed over the bridge. The bridge originally had 4 columns, but only three remain. Two were inscribed with the names of the emperor’s sons, but when one son succeeded his father he put his brother to death and ordered his name removed. The locals simply found it more practical to remove the column. Yeni Kale is a medieval fortress that contains outer and inner walls. There are two sites on adjoining hilltops called Arsameia on the Euphrates and the Nymphaoia that we hiked to and have several statues, the most impressive of which is a large relief of Antiochus’ father with Hercules. These sites also contain long tunnels, one of which I descended into as far as I dared without seeing the end.

We drove almost to the summit. And then ascended about 400 meters by a very long stairway to the top. There are three terraces, two of which are covered with monuments, primarily of various gods, but also of Antiochus. In most cases the large heads have fallen off their bodies and so they are sitting on the ground staring at you.  The third terrace is presumed to be an assembly area. There are lots of inscriptions at all these sites.

Topping it all off is a large tumulus of fist-sized stones that is presumed to be the tomb of Antiochus, but it has not been found.

We finished up about 7:30 and drove back to the pension. Another good dinner accompanied by many cats and kittens, but with lots of wind, which surprisingly did not blow all the bugs away.

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July 16 Haircut, not the type Greece is Taking

Bitlis. We woke up paying for the prior late night so we were not moving early or too fast. We took a short trip to Bitlis. The city lies at the bottom of a narrow canyon and is stretched out along a river.  It, too, is dominated by a castle, but after hiking up to the entrance, we found it to be padlocked.

This is not a tourist city. We walked through bustling markets along narrow pedestrian streets. Lots of families were out shopping and lots of girls wanted our pictures.  There were lots of teahouses with groups of men congregated in and outside them on small stools.  A group of young men invited us to sit with them. No common language but liberal use of their Google Translate led to a discussion of the Ramadan holiday and its upcoming Eid holiday party. They did not seem to have jobs or be in school. They were eager to bring over to us an Armenian friend whom they punched affectionately, as if to show that there was no animosity between the groups. However, these were Kurds, not Turks.

This city, like others we have visited in Turkey, seems to have lots of barber shops. Today there were lines in all of them, perhaps in anticipation of the evening festivities. We went into one and they immediately invited us to jump the line. We declined and waited our turn while talking with the customers, barbers and two kids who seemed to be apprentices while they swept the floors and retrieved tools for the barbers.

When my turn came I got a very short haircut to combat the heat. There was lots of attention to detail by the barber and he spent more time cutting than I have typically experienced in the US. 

We drove back and were squeezed into a parking space next to the hotel. We took a walk down to and on the strand along the lake. The lakefront is not well developed. I saw no beaches or swimming areas and commercial development was limited to a few waterfront type restaurants with beach furniture. A few were gearing up for the Ramadan break-fast dinner.

We noticed that there were many balloons tethered to the water in one area. Turns out it was a shooting gallery. We were pressed into taking shots at the balloons as well as given tea. Neither of us could hit the balloons, but I did not see any of the others hit the balloons either.

As we walked back to the hotel at dusk, we noticed that in most of the retail establishments the staff was eating dinner together, either inside or on tables set up on the sidewalk. This was the stores’ means of feeding the staff at the end of the Ramadan fast to keep them around for the nighttime shopping after the fast.

We got back to the hotel too late for dinner with the Manager and his staff, but they set up a table for us and served us what was left over. We also got some very good milkshakes.

            

July 13 -- Kars

The Konak Hotel provided what has become the usual Turkish buffet breakfast: a dizzying selection of olives, lots of cheeses, flat bread and lots of fruit spreads, hard boiled eggs, cucumbers, tomatoes, milk, cereal and yogurt, watermelon, and some other vegetables. Lots of honey is also produced, consumed and served in eastern Turkey. There was also a very old looking, traditionally dressed lady who made omelets. 

Like many areas in this region, Kars has been repeatedly conquered by competing nationalities, including the Armenians, Azeris, Turkmen, Kurds, Ottoman, Russians and most recently the Turks. The Russians grabbed it from the Ottomans in 1878 and created a lot of the currently existing infrastructure and architecture as well as lots of monuments. Even the local high school occupies what was once a Russian winter mansion and many of the government buildings seem to be from the Russian occupation era. Also, unlike any of the cities in this area, much of the city is laid out in a grid pattern making navigating it a bit easier.

Towering over the city is a medieval fortress that was initially constructed by the Saltuk Turks in the 12^th century.  It was demolished by Tamerlane in the 14^th century (that man really got around this region and seemed to leave utter destruction in his wake). It was actually the site of intense fighting during WWI when the Russians initially held off the Ottomans, then fell back into Ottoman hands after the Russian revolution, was conquered by the Armenians after WWI and finally fell to the Turkish republican forces in the (Turkish) War of Independence. There are lots of bullet holes and cannon ball impacts.

We spoke with hotel staff and I think they suggested that we walk to the fortress, but I decided to drive since we planned on going other places after the fortress. That was a little mistake since there was chocking traffic and it was not far. After we parked we encountered a German Turkish family who were visiting the homeland. This proved to be a common occurrence as we subsequently met several such returnees.  The teenage daughter spoke perfect unaccented English.

While it was a steep, long walk up a cobblestone ramp to the fortress, it was not the knee-jarring climb the tour book warned about. The fortress had a lot of well-preserved walls and areas. There were lots of signs advising that it was illegal and dangerous to climb on the walls, but lots of people were doing that. It afforded a great view of the town and river below, as well as the steppe in the distance.  There are also four religious institutions along the river at the base of the fortress, one dating back to the 10^th century. They are all mosques now, but two got their start as churches. God had to switch sides along the way.

We walked back down past two ruined Turkish bathhouses, Hamans, and across a 16^th century basalt stone bridge. We then went to a tea garden perched along the riverbank. It offered a shady, but windy respite from the sun. There was vitually no one there so the waiter, a young Turkish student engaged us in conversation. He never identified his nationality, but spoke about the targeted killings of groups in the region and the continuing problems that has caused. He took us into an old mill that was adjacent to the garden. It was built and operated by the Russians and seemed to have been abandoned intact. He is eager to come to America and continue his studies in zoology.

We crossed back over the river and found the tea garden identified in the book (not as nice as the one we went to) and were engaged by an older man. He spoke with great animation, but no English at all and I had no idea what he was talking about.

We then began what should have been a short trip to the Kars Museum, but I got completely turned around and wasted 45 minutes in the rain before we found the place. During that tour of Kars we did find the tourist office, and although that guide could not get us to the museum, he did give us a beautifully photographed, and well-documented book about Ani.

The museum documented the history of the city and had pictures of the ruined Armenian churches in the region. We were the only ones there.

I tired to mail some postcards at the PTT, but it closed at 5. I purchased some cherries and baklava after some negotiation with the vendors.

We attempted to go to dinner at the Ocakbasi restaurant that is a local favorite that has a cave-like dining room decorated with farm implements, but we did not account for the Ramadan rush. It was full. We were hustled next door with the commitment that it was the same food from the same kitchen. It was a good meal with white tablecloths.

Returning to the hotel lobby- we encountered a Minnesota woman who is married to a Turkish man. They have one child, a very blond boy who along with a Swedish family with 4 blond kids who were also in the lobby, made for a very distinctive color display. She said that she loved living in Istanbul, but missed her family.

The next morning we made it out of Kars without getting lost. When we stopped for gasoline the attendant saw the state of our car and motioned us over to the car wash.  The drive to Ani was a 45-minute breeze.

Tea on the Trail and Coffee in a Cave

July 20 Diyarbakir to Midyat

Note, we heard today when we were in a wine store, the first time we have seen that in Turkey, in Midyat, that a bomb had been detonated in a nearby town and had killed about 20 people. We are close to the Syrian border and the rumor is that ISIS set off the bomb. The common wisdom here is that Turkey supports ISIS, but the bomb might have been directed against the Kurds, with whom ISIS has been warring in both Iraq and Syria. Anyway, we are fine, but I think that we will decline at this time the offers and suggestions we have gotten from Kurdish Iraqi tourists and others here to visit Northern Iraq.

The SV Business Hotel in Diyarbakir again provided another good breakfast with fresh eggs and cool fresh watermelon. The US is missing great, sweet taste from watermelons with seeds. More importantly, we got great correct directions from a member of the hotel staff on how to exit Diyarbakir and get on our way to Hasankeyf. GPS also had directions, but they involved many more turns. We were on the road out of town before 10 am.

We were generally paralleling the Tigris River, but except for a few very small villages and the large town Batman, [I do not think it has any relation to the action hero and the book offered no reason to stop there] the road took us through largely empty, dry, mountainous country. We did not even see many animals or shepherds.

When we approached Hasankeyf we first came to the Zeynel Bey Turbesi. This is a remarkably well preserved conical 15th century tomb built by a provincial governor for his son. Reasons unknown. It is situated on grasslands by the Tigris River. A paved path led us down to the riverbank from where we could view the old bathhouse, the caves in the cliffs across the river, the Citadel on top of the cliffs and the supports for a large bridge across the river. I took off my shoes and went wading in the Tigris. This is one of two rivers that nurtured the ancient Fertile Crescent. The water was moving somewhat swiftly and was pretty warm. It did not offer much relief from the increasing heat.

We then drove across the modern bridge spanning the river into town. Luckily, we found a parking space, although it was in the sun so the car and its contents were incredibly hot when we returned to the car. We walked down a pedestrian street that was filled with shops. We struck up a conversation with a rug merchant. He is a 37-year-old who decried himself as a professional only in rugs and coins. He showed us several coins that he claimed to have found in the surrounding area that seemed to go back to Roman times. His advice was to look for coins after it rained. He stocked rugs, and a few carpets for which he showed distain, from Turkey, Iran, Iraq and Syria, and he discussed at length stitches, dyes (natural much better since it will allegedly not fade), ages of the rugs and their contents. Many of the rugs were kilims which do not have any pile.

He said that he worked for KBR in Mosel in 2005 for several months. He said the money was very good, but the work was dangerous. He urged us to go to Northern Iraq, which he proudly referred to as Kurdistan. He said there still are American soldiers there. He said he goes there for business and that many tourists come from there to his town. We saw some when we were there.

He also spoke at length on the Kurdish issue. He, like others before and after with whom we spoke in this area, said that while getting somewhat better, there still is a problem with the government. He said that since the fighting has stopped the Kurds have managed to gain political representation in the Turkish parliament, but that the national government does not treat the Kurds fairly either economically or culturally.

An interesting thing about this town is that it is scheduled to disappear. Turkey, ever in need of water and power, is building the Southeast Anatolia Project ("GAP") that will put dams on the headwaters of the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers. That has not only pissed off Iraq, Syria and Georgia, but the Ilisu dam as planned will flood Hasankeyf in 2019. The UN has placed the valley and town on its 100 Watch list of most endangered sites. The rug guy actually called an American who lives locally and is working to stop the dam. I spoke with him for a while and he was not too optimistic. Across the valley you could see the new town that the government is building for the residents, but the rug guy said that inadequate compensation was being offered to the residents for their houses. He also said that the "union" had organized a protest against the project last year before the election by closing the bridge for several hours. He said that brought out the Army and while they got some adjustments, there are still problems. Surprisingly, there is a restoration project going forward to restore the supports for the old bridge which will be submerged if the dam is finished.

We toured a local mosque along the river bank and then tried to enter the trail to the caves. We were told that we could not enter without a guide. I think that was tourist buckshot, but after some haggling about the price we hired a guide. He is a 54-year-old guy who primarily works as a shepherd. He says that he was born in and lived in one of the caves until age 6. We hiked with him through the old town and entered a few caves. Then we went into the canyon and hiked further up. There are hundreds of caves of varying size and purpose. He pointed out some cave churches and public rooms.

The guide would burst out in loud song periodically, in some cases to applause from other hikers in the canyon. On the way down he connected us with an extended family, including a grandmother who hiked like a mountain goat down to her numerous grandchildren, one of whom had returend to Turkey for a first visit from her home in Germany and another who was hiking the caves in high heels. They had hauled a small stove up the canyon and were making Turkish tea. (That is ubiqutious here; I have been offered and drinking numerous cups every day while in southeastern Turkey.) They were also handing out bread and, most important, ice water.

When we returned to the base of the canyon, the guide took us to a cave Cafe where we lounged on cushions and we were served Turkish coffee. It was very thick and had what seemed to be nut pieces in it. He said it included milk and honey. It was served with M&M candies and thankfully water.  The bottom of the cup at the end of the drink seemed to contain sludge.

On our way out of town we stopped for gas and were also given tissues. We then left for Midyat, which formerly was dominated by Assyrian Christian, but in the past century they have largely been killed or pushed out and the new part of town is Kurdish. The old town, where we stayed in the Shmayaa Hotel, is medieval with lots of alleyways and houses that have courtyards that are surrounded by carved windows and reliefs. As we walked around, the area seemed to have virtually no restaurants, but scores of jewelry shops. I guess they prefer gold here rather than food.

We also saw for the first time in Turkey wine shops. They stocked locally produced wine. In one jewelry/wine shop we spoke with a Christian Turk who had emigrated to Sweden 30 years ago when he was a child; he was back helping his cousin set up the shop and looking into the potential of importing this local wine to Sweden. His account of history was that the Ottomans not only killed and persecuted the Armenians, but also the Assyrian Christians so that a community that was very large 100 years ago is now very small. While there are a lot of churches here, he said there are not enough congregants to support them.

Our boutique hotel is a 1600-year-old former church facility. It has been beautifully restored with a lovely courtyard and rooftop dining. The heat all day had been intense and sitting up on the roof after the sun went down with a gentle breeze overlooking the city lights (including the 4 intensely green-lit minarets of one of the mosques) was very relaxing. I broke down and had a jug of bottled water with lots of ice that I drank quickly. A nice calm dinner. Our room was not large, but it had wonderful air conditioning, a great bed and a large bathroom with a good shower (plus cushy slippers and robe), and arched stone ceilings gave it an air of spaciousness. 

Look Back in Time

July 14 Ani

We checked out of the Konak Hotel after a good breakfast with an omelet and lots of cold watermelon. As an aside, I have never seen so many watermelons as we have seen in eastern Turkey. India had a lot of them and Georgia had some, but everywhere we go in eastern Turkey, even in the smallest markets, there are mountains of watermelons stacked in front of the store. Pushcarts have even more of them, and the next morning we saw from our hotel window the wholesale market in Dogubayazit where several large truckloads of watermelons were being sold, and in some cases, the watermelons tossed to retail vendors. Every breakfast has watermelon. I do not know how they all get eaten.

We packed up, left on time and got out of town without getting lost. On the way out of Kars we stopped for gasoline. The attendant took one look at the car and motioned us over to the car wash. The car was pretty dusty, and after the wash we could see out of all the windows.

It was a relatively short drive to Ani, about an hour on a relatively good road, about 45 km east of Kars. Ani is a ghost town. What was once a thriving metropolis of over 100,000 people, probably rivaling Constantinople in power and wealth, and the capital of the Armenian empire, has been reduced to about a dozen major ruins in a sea of wind-swept grass. Where there was once great commerce, there is now kids on bicycles and very few tourists.

Ani was founded in the mid 10th century by the Armenians servicing the east-west trade routes from which it grew wealthy. It was successively conquered by the Byzantines, Seljuks, the Georgians, and finally the Kurds. Its downfall began when it was conquered by the Mongols in the mid 13th century. They were nomads, so they had no use for city life and did little to rebuild the city following an earthquake 80 years later. What life was left in the city after that was completely crushed when Tamerlane swept through later that century who, as was his practice, destroyed everything in his path. (He probably had a group of pre-teen boys as soldiers.)

A portion of the city walls remain and you enter through the Lion Gate, with a lion relief on the wall. We first came to the Fire temple. This predated the city and all that remains are 4 thick circular columns that are not very tall. Then we came to the one remaining wall of a large Georgian church with lots of interior columns. The Seljuk Palace was built into the city's walls and is the only building that has been restored and as such looks out of place.

The Church of St. Gregory is very well-preserved and from it you can see the cave village cut out of the cliffs across the river in what is now Armenia. Below on the riverbank are farms. The Menucer mosque is one of the two best-preserved and largest buildings on site. The minaret has an inscription, "in the name of Allah," and has alternating red and black stone work. The other remaining big and well-preserved structure is the Cathedral. It was built by the Armenians, but was converted to a mosque under the Seljuks, restored as a church under the Georgians, and then back to a mosque under the Kurds and successive Muslim rulers. ( I wonder if a new God took over with each change in regime.)

We met a Canadian couple at the Cathedral. She is a teacher who took a year off from her position with the Toronto school district to teach at a private school in Istanbul. While she liked Turkey, she was not happy with either the school, or the rich Turkish students whom she felt lacked discipline. Her husband was only permitted to remain in Turkey for 90 days and then had to go back to Canada for 90 days before being permitted to return. They said they were able to take lots of low-cost vacations throughout Europe during her year in Turkey.

The most intriguing ruin to me was the ruined Silk Road bridge that spanned the river now separating Turkey and Armenia. All that remain are the two towers of what was probably a suspension bridge that linked central Asia to Anatolia. One could imagine the caravans and merchants, as well as other travelers crossing that bridge and the excitement in town as a new caravan arrived. Now there is only silence, broken by the seemingly few tourists that wander through and the Armenian farmers on the other side of the river.  

The Crater Hotel

July 15 Tatvan

We arrived in Tatvan late, about 8:30 without precise directions to the hotel. Fortunately a Turkish Oil gas station attendant knew his geography. His directions were perfect, even to the precision of identifying a PTT office across from the hotel. (Now that I do not need them to get my toll road ticket paid, I see them everywhere in Turkey.) We drove into the teeth of the Ramadan evening celebration. Cars double-parked in a solid row, vendors everywhere and pedestrians running amok. It took us forever to get to the hotel. Very nice, new place and as we checked in we were pleased with our room. This is a hotel that stated on its website that it would not rent to unmarried couples and would be seeking a marriage certificate. Our passports with the same last name were sufficient of our marital bliss.

We went out looking for dinner, but what we mainly found were lots of tea shops with scores of men in and outside them, sitting on small stools, smoking and drinking Kurdish tea in small glasses without handles, so they are too hot to pick up. We finally found a non-descript diner that offered what we came to learn is typical Kurdish fare, lamb or chicken kabobs, a grain, a slice of roasted tomato and pepper and lots of bread.

As we returned to the hotel we were greeted by a thin man who spoke soft, but very good English. He introduced himself as the General Manager and told us that he wanted us to feel like guests. The first thing he did was instruct his staff to switch us to the Lake Suite. That is a corner accommodation with sweeping views of Lake Van and the city, two bathrooms and a living room. He also sent up a fruit platter. then he invited us up to the roof-top restaurant for some coffee. There we were also joined  by a Taiwanese couple--she a well-spoken teacher and he a largely silent entrepreneur, and the GM's childhood friend, now an English teacher. Coffee turned into lots of nonalcoholic drinks and lots of sweets, chocolates (lots of chocolate spoons) and pastries, but best was the three-hour conversation.

Both men are deeply religious and conservative. The friend even declined to shake Karen's hand at the end of the evening for religious reasons. They explained many of the Kurds' customs and social traditions as serving Allah. The GM was unwilling to criticize the Turkish government or in any way make a critical political statement. He conceded however that business was not good due to the on-going wars in the region and fears of Kurdish terrorism. His friend, however, was unsparing in his criticism of the Turkish government and its refusal to permit a Kurdish cultural life, or even an acknowledgement of a Kurdish identity.  We also discussed the soon-to-be-ended Ramadan holiday, it seems to be a month long fasting and party cycle, and the three-day Eid al-Fitr holiday blowout that followed it.  

We finished up a little after 1:00 am. I knew that I would be exhausted the following day, but the conversation was worth it.   

Where Are All the Women, and Ready, Set, Eat!

July 14-15 - Turkish Kurdistan, From Ani to Dogubayazit to Tatvan

It was a three-hour drive from Ani to  Dogubayazit. Rather than return to Kars, which would have been out of the way, GPS took us on a 27 km ride on a dirt, military road that paralleled the border with Armenia. That border is closed, (we were told that was due to the Armenian Azerbaijan conflict of the early 1990s, but it could also be due to lingering issues from the Armenian genocide) but other than there being no obvious crossings, I saw no evidence of the closure. The road was not too bad and we passed several small farming villages and tractors. Once we reached a main highway we passed through steppe grazing grounds and the towns of Digor, Tuzluca and Igdir. In the latter we began to see Mt. Ararat. We also encountered a French couple who stopped to talk with us during a rest/photo break because of our French auto license. They were here for a week's vacation and were largely paralleling our route.

Although it was still light when we reached Dogubayazit and we had GPS going (without the voice prompts), we promptly got lost when trying to find the hotel. In addition to the usual culprits, aside from my own inadequacies, there was major construction on the road and I think that caused me to miss a turn. We ended up turning into a parking area behind some buildings and immediately attracted a lot of attention. The adults wanted to know where we were from and where we were going. Laughed when we told them we were lost. The kids were even more friendly, but got scared off by Karen's hearing aids. With the aid of their directions and the GPS we finally found the hotel on a narrow street that had many loose bricks.

Dogubayazit is overwhelmingly Kurdish. Aside from the mountains and the palace, it does not have any noteworthy attractions other than its Kurdish environment. This seems to be a very religious and conservative area of Turkey and there is a lot of sex segregation. There are lots of tea houses in and outside of which many men congregate.

We checked into the Tehran Boutique Hotel. This is a completely renovated, almost new facility. We were their first Booking.com booking so that caused some confusion when checking in. Unlike many facilities that advertise parking, but point you to street parking, this one actually had a parking lot in the back with easy access to the hotel. The desk clerk, a young Kurdish woman in a very traditional outfit that covered her in heavy, bulky clothes from head to toe spoke no English, or Turkish (understandably, she spoke Kurdish, which alas does not show up in Google translate), but the hotel manager spoke excellent English, and was very helpful with directions and suggestions. He previously was a mountain guide in eastern Turkey, but now runs the hotel for his friend, who was out climbing the local mountain. He pointed out that he is listed in our Lonely Plant book as a recommended guide.

The local mountain is Mt. Ararat, which rises over 15,000 ft. It is the tallest mountain in Turkey and is still snow-covered at the top. It is the alleged site where Noah's Ark came to rest after the flood. You need a guide and permit to climb it. This city is only 15 km from the Iranian border, but we did not have time to visit or climb the mountain. We got a very good view of the mountain from the hotel's roof-top restaurant.

Tourist business is not very good here. The manager claimed that the many wars going on in the immediate area, Iraq and Syria, and the proximity to Iran, only 15 km, have not been good for tourism. We were the only ones on our floor and the other three rooms were open. We did not get the best room. Like most of the inhabitants in southern Turkey, the manager is a Kurd. He contended that the Turkish central government has been hostile to the Kurds and pointed to the fact that it had not been providing funds to the region and as a result, the local Kurdish cultural festival that should have been occurring then had been cancelled. Local businesses which had previously funded the festival were now devoting funds to (much needed) road repair.

In further discussions, he stated that the Kurds had been in this area for over a millennium, long before the Turks who had come from central Asia in the 9th century. After the establishment of the modern Turkish state under Ataturk, he decreed that the country be solely Turkish and in doing so denied any cultural identity for the Kurds, (or other less numerous minorities), who were labeled as mountain Turks. That led to the PKK and guerrilla rebellion and terrorism. That has largely abated now, but he said that Kurds are still not permitted to teach their language in public schools and the national government continues to discriminate against the Kurds.

After getting settled in the hotel, we walked around town. It was one day before the end of Ramadan and the streets are full of people -- whoops, make that men and boys. Lots strolling and many sitting and socializing outside the many cey (tea) houses, but virtually no women. Many of the men walked arm-in-arm; the difference in personal space and same-sex touching is very noticeable between the Turkish and American cultures. We mentioned our observation to our Western-culture-savvy hotel manager, who smiled and said it was not a sign of homosexuality ("they're not gay") but that it was part of their customs.

We entered a restaurant, Oz Urfa Kebap, about 7:00 that was deserted, but the staff was setting up salad, soup, water and bread at all the tables. The waiter did not give us a menu, but suggested several dishes. Starting about 7:15 people, again virtually all men, started coming in and sitting down, but no one touched the food or drink. At 7:41, the mosque prayers started and everyone instantly began to eat and drink. It was the end of the daily Ramadan fast. Our dinner was pretty good, my lamb kebobs very tasty. As we walked back to our hotel the streets continued to be largely vacant of women.

The morning breakfast was very good and the manager cooked a superb omelet, but the breakfast room had very few guests. We walked around the town, which now had very few people out. We then tried to drive out of town to the Ishak Pasa Palace. It proved to be a stressful chore, since the streets in the center of town are essentially alleyways and with parked vehicles, only one car can pass at a time. The streets did not seem to be designated as one way and the locals seemed to think that if they flashed their lights when coming down the street, they had the right of way and the other car had to back out or squeeze out of the way. I deferred a few times, but each time another car came into the street and I was not making any progress getting out of there. Finally, I stared down a couple of other cars and began the climb to the Palace.

The Palace was begun in the 17th century and completed a 100 years later by some Kurd chiefs. It sits on a small pleateau overlooking the town below and Mt. Ararat across the plains. It combines Seljuk, Ottoman, Georgian, Persian and Armenian architectural styles. It had two large courtyards, a jail, many ceremonial and dining rooms and very large separate living areas for men and women. The mosque in the palace was well preserved with beautiful ceiling frescos and relief decorations. The kitchen area was well preserved and there was a large servants' quarters on the lower level.

When we left we encountered a young souvenir salesman. His English was very good. He told us he was from an area village, but attended university near Istanbul. He was spending the summer selling goods produced by local Kurdish women and he seemed passionate about improving their lot in life, even bringing out his personal copy of Nicolas Kristof's/Sheryl WuDunn's "Half The Sky." We purchased two small items from him and he directed us to the cooperative's building below.

At the coop we watched the rug-making process and spoke with some of the staff. Purchased two rugs so our house will have multi-cultural flooring.

We drove out of Dogubayazit without getting lost, but way behind schedule. The road south took us into the mountains and again up a steep incline. The countryside was very empty until we reached the northern edge of Lake Van. We drove around the northern shore of the lake which was a pretty and scenic drive, with some stark evidence of ancient volcanic activity from the rocks and boulders strewn about; a nice sunset until darkness descended. We stopped for gasoline at an independent station and were given tissues and invited to stay for tea. The owner spoke limited English, but he was very eager for us to stay and talk. He was interested in our trip and our impression of Turkey.

By about 9 we arrived at our destination, Tatvan, the city at the western end of the lake. It was a bigger town than I anticipated and I was concerned about our ability to find our hotel, the Crater. Directions from a very helpful gas station clerk were very good and we were able to get there without detour, albeit slowly as the Ramadan break fast process was in full swing and the streets were crowded with a solid row of double parked vehicles, pedestrians, and vendors.


   

Auto and Anus Abuse

July 12 - Onward Back to Turkey

I woke up early, refreshed in our Akhaltsikhe guesthouse room. No breakfast was provided, so I went out looking for food. I passed several guest houses, so we probably need not have taken the first option last night, but we were tired. Passing a gasoline station of the same brand where we purchased gas in Tbilisi, which had 92 octane as regular, convinced me that our prior auto problems were caused by the incorrect gasoline. I quickly found a large food market that was open at 7:00 am on Sunday. It had a large selection of unidentified process meats and one meter long bags of spaghetti. I purchased some bananas, orange juice, bread, cheese, apricots, yogurt, a chocolate bar and 6 liters of water.

Back in the room we could look out over the square, the abandoned rail track and the police station. At the latter they were having the morning line up while we ate breakfast. Our hosts, seemingly a mother and three kids, two teenagers, spoke virtually no English, but were very interested in our trip.

After breakfast we walked up to the old town, Rabati. It is on a hill on the north side of the Potskhovi River. It is not a quant or cute area, but a living residential neighborhood. Just about every house has a small vineyard or grapevine. While many of the houses (seemingly most were traditional Georgian, darbazebi) looked sort of run down, virtually all had satellite dishes and many had large expensive European cars parked outside. The streets, most of which are not more than alleys, are not marked and are all unpaved. The rabati is multi-cultural. It has an Armenian and Catholic church, each, and a synagogue. We set out to find the latter and quickly got lost in the tangle of streets.  We saw a large group emerge from an alley and they turned out to be an Israeli group that had just visited the synagogue. As we proceeded up the alley, we were greeted by a couple calling out shalom. They urged us into their yard which had a grapevine, fruit trees and chickens. Outside it had a large pot boiling with some type of fruit in it. They gave us wine and some type of processed fruit with lots of toasts.

We finally found the synagogue, and although an interior door was open, it was locked on the outside and no one came to the door.

We walked back down the hill and took off for the Saphara Monastery. This is one of the most beautiful sites in the region, but the signs to get to its access road were surprisingly difficult to find and follow. The directions said that it was 13 km off the main road and the road leading to it is an unpaved national highway. We went about 1km up a paved road through a small village and then turned onto a dirt road. This was much more a byway than a highway. It was rocky, frequently deeply rutted and oftentimes was carved out of the side of a cliff. At times it was very steep and I spent a large amount of time in 1st gear. I had serious doubts and worries about whether the car would make it up the hill and feared that I would blow out the engine or at least a tire.

However the trip was very scenic and we finally made it there. Georgian monks seem to work really hard to find the most out of the way places to site their monasteries. This one dated to the 9th century and was greatly expanded in the 13th century to include a fortress by the Jakeli family, the same people who built the Akhaltsikhe Castle. The complex contains several churches, the largest of which, St, Saba's has many frescos. It is still a working monastery with a number of monks walking and driving around.

We rolled back down the hill and into town, where we filled up on cheap Georgian gasoline and headed south to Turkey.  We passed through Vale and several very small towns, but did not find a suitable place for our picnic lunch and wine. Just before the border we stopped at a gas station and rest stop. In addition to lots of liquor, it had a picnic table and two attentive dogs, who helped us finish off our bread. Used the restrooms and as we were looking to use up some of our remaining Georgian money, the owner/manager came over and insisted that we have two free cold waters. We ultimately purchased some ice cream sandwiches, a fruit drink and 6 more liters of water.

The border crossing went very smoothly, albeit slowly. This is a rural area and it is a small crossing post. There were not many travelers there. Georgian immigration stared intently at our paperwork for what seemed an eternity, but then stamped us and waved us through. Turkish immigration took a bit longer but there, too, we were ultimately waved through. At Customs there was a bit of shoving and line-cutting. A group of what seemed to be laborers who were traveling in an SUV were all carrying duty-free bags from Georgia. They cut ahead of me, but then had all their liquor confiscated. We had to open up the car, but the inspector made a cursory inspection and gave us a stamp, (unlike when we entered the last time, when a bar code was affixed to our car) to get through the final gate. In total it took about 1.5 hours.

We gained back an hour in time, so rather than stay in one of the smaller towns we were passing through, we set out for Kars, for what I thought would be about  a two hour drive. The highway was usually pretty good and at times excellent. However there were stretches that deterioated to gravel. We also were going through some very empty and rugged country. Twice we climbed to pass over 7500ft. Usually the only signs of civilization we saw were nomad people herding their animals and their tent sites. Then my digestive problem developed again. One time as I was scrambling off the side of the road for an emergency stop, I almost slid down a cliff. Another time when I stopped there was a shepherd who seemed to look at me askance. His cows then started coming over to me as I was relieving myself and I feared that there would be a confrontation; but the cows backed off and the shepherd walked away.

We made it to Kars in the early evening and after unsuccessfully bargaining for a desired price at our first choice, we settled into the Hotel Konak for two nights, where they served us tea and we watched Aljezerra International report on the Greek debt crisis.

You Cannot Drink the Water No Matter How Good it Tastes

July 11 Vardzia

Woke up at the farm guesthouse to the sounds of roosters striking and cows mooing. Got us up early. The breakfast was again farm-sourced and very good. The treat was fresh cream that had been obtained from the prior night's milking and refrigerated overnight. I spread it on just about everything, hard boiled egg, tomato, cucumber and on the fresh baked bread. Good stuff.

The problem was that bottled water was not provided and other than wine the night before, and coffee or tea for breakfast, there was nothing else to drink except the local water. It came from the mountains, it tasted great, so I drank it, with subsequent bad results.

However, before that we checked out and drove the short distance up the valley to the valley's major cave complex. It was created in the 12th century by a Georgian king as a fortification and later expanded by his successor, Queen Tamar, to to include a monastery that grew into a virtual holy city with 50,000 inhabitants and thousands of monks. It became a spiritual heartland for Georgia and the spearpoint of Christianity's eastern frontier. At its peak it had 13 floors, over 400 caves, 13 churches and 25 wine cellars. A subsequent earthquake destroyed some of the complex and in the 16th century the Persians defeated the Georgians in battles that took place in the caves. The victors looted the place and it fell into a long decline. The site was partially restored under Soviet rule and it is now a working monastery. We took a very long and steep walk up to the complex and viewed the caves and churches. The ticket office had a sign that the admission tickets, which were a nice picture of the complex, were holy items and could not be discarded. A nice ploy to minimize litter that seemed to work.

After spending the morning there, we tried to go to another cave complex on the other side of the valley. The road was too steep and rocky for the Twingo, so we rolled back to the main road. Briefly checked out the old slave market -- no indication of who the slaves were -- and returned to the main road to journey up to Akhaltsikhe, about 60 km up the river valley. A very scenic drive. We made it to the town, but could not find the Saphara Monastery that we were seeking. Instead we found the Akhaltsikhe Castle towering over the town so we went there. That was a fortunate switch because the water borne bugs caught up to me, and the castle, unlike the monastery, had great bathrooms. The castle is enormous. It was created in the 12th century, was expanded from the 13th to the 17th century by the local powerful Jakeli family, who got along famously with various invaders so the castle was not conquered until the Ottomans showed up. They took over and converted the castle into a regional center for their empire and installed a mosque.

Throughout our afternoon visit to the castle, I was frequently sprinting to the bathroom. Payback for the water. Now the castle has an upscale hotel, a restaurant and a wine shop. We picked up a bottle for dinner. The castle is beautifully landscaped and restored. It also had a tourist office. We were looking for assistance in getting a guesthouse for the night, but after calling one place that was full, they were of no further assistance. (I thought that they were there to help tourists.) There was a misunderstanding with the tour guide since my tour book indicated that she had made a reservation in a guesthouse in a town far to the north. We stopped at a guesthouse which was full, but they guided us to a neighboring house that had a vacancy.  A small place with no meals, but a large room with a large balcony for $18. Turns out it was perfect since after my bathroom issues, I was exhausted and fell asleep at 7 for 12 hours.  

The Day Our Luck Almost Ran Out

July 10

Our departure from Tbilisi started very auspiciously. We had another good breakfast at the Renaissance Hotel, although there was no mustard for the sausages, and then by accident we met Ketie our former tour guide, there. She was taking out a group of Dutch tourists and came there to meet them at the hotel. We reviewed our travel plans with her that we had discussed the prior day and she thought that she had made guesthouse reservations for us for the next two nights. That was important since in Georgia we had no Internet service on our phone and telephone calls at $6 per minute. (T-Mobile's world wide plan is not so world wide).

We used the hotel's wifi to get directions out of Tbilisi. I have found that getting out of major cities without getting lost has been a problem for me on the trip after we lost the voice directions from the phone (that service does not extend into the former eastern block and further eastward) Even when we get written directions, the street names are often not marked and even when they are, they, understandably are written in the local language which in Georgia has been hard to decipher and impossible to do so while driving. However, this time we made it out without a misstep, in part because we had been in Tbilisi so many days and had some familiarity with it from walking and prior driving. We drove up on a serpentine road that took us high up into the hills over Tbilisi, affording us a wonderful view of the city. Departing the hotel we filled up the tank, as I anticipated few gasoline stations where we were going. I asked (Georgia is like Oregon and New Jersey, no self service) for 95 grade, regular. We even got started on time, so all seemed well.

We stopped at one point to check directions and then the car would not start. I hoped that it was caused by having sat idle for 5 weeks and jumped started it by rolling down the roadway. We proceeded southwest for about 50 km into the Lower Caucasian  mountains and the Samtskhe Javakheti area, a rural and mountainous region. Going up one of the many 10% grades the car started bucking and finally stalled out and died. This time the battery was completely dead. With the assistance of a local driver we got it jump started by rolling backwards. However that only proved to be a temporary solution since after another few km it again stalled out and died.

What to do? We were in a rural, heavily forested area with no internet or phone access. I decided to try to get a ride to the nearest town of any size, Tsalka, which I thought/hoped might have a mechanic. I tried flagging down the infrequent passing motorists. Some passed me by, some stopped but there was complete language disfunction and they declined. Finally using a map and lots of body language one driver agreed to take me to town. Karen stayed with the car. When I arrived at Tsalka my driver just dropped me off. No tourist office in sight so I started going to bank offices hoping I could find an English speaker. At the third bank I got incredibly lucky. Not only was there an English speaker, but a young bank employee, who did not speak much English, agreed to drive back with me with his SUV and some straps to tow the car into town. He drove like a madman up and down the hills and around the potholes. Hooked up our car to his and then began the trip back to town. It was weird and challenging steering my car while being towed. I could not see all the potholes and I had to make sure not to run into the tow car, but also not to brake to hard.

Before we got to town he picked up another person whose car had broken down. When we got close to town he pulled into a mechanic's shop. No one there spoke English so there was a lot of pantomime. The mechanic peered into the engine and revved the carburetor. He seemed to pronounce that there was bad benzine and that the problem was fixed. The car started and I followed the bank employee back into town without a problem. Then they put me on the phone with a mystery someone (I never determined who he was) who spoke English. He told me that while the car was fine, I had to go back to Tbilisi and use the main highway to go to Betumi to get to Turkey since my car could not make it over the mountain passes in the south.

With all the talk about bad benzine, it began to dawn on me that perhaps I had gotten the wrong grade of gasoline in Tbilisi. Again following my tow guy I went to a gas station and filled up with the proper grade of gasoline. I still was not sure what was wrong with the car and nervous that if there was an additional breakdown I would not be so lucky, so I was inclined t return to Tbilisi. However, my tow guy insisted that "problem no" and that we should continue on our journey. So we decided to do that. We thanked our tow guy profusely, but he declined my offer of compensation.

We then headed into an incredibly pretty, but virtually empty region. A few very small, and seemingly poor towns, lots of shepherds and their herds and Lake Paravni, a large inviting lake that strangely seemed devoid of human presence, was mostly all that we saw for over 100 km as we climbed to over 7500 feet. But the car performed without any problem.    

Finally we reached Ninotsminda, a large town that was the most southern point in our trip. It is about 20km from the Armenian border. We turned northwest and followed the roaring Mtkvari River along a twisting road through a very scenic valley. There were several monasteries along the way, but we passed on them, given that we had spent time with the car misadventures. After about 60 km we saw a large fortress that dominated the skyline. The Khertvisi Fortress is at the juncture of two rivers and dominates the passageways east to Armenia and south to Turkey. Fortresses have been at this site since the time of Alexander the Great, who conquered this area. The present structure dates back to the 10th century with subsequent additions. It is a massive structure that contains a tunnel down to the river. We hiked to the top accompanied by a dog, our tour guide. Incredibly commanding views of the rivers and valleys. Hard to imagine that the fortress was conquered, but it was several times by Persians, Mongols, various Turks and Russians.

We then drove south into the Vardzia valley along the Paravani River. We saw several cave complexes in the adjacent cliffs, until we came to the main one in Vardzia that looked like a mini Petra. We continued further south as the road deteriorated to the Cottages guesthouse where our tour guide had tried to book us a room. It was a lovely place with extensive vegetable acreage and flower gardens. The eating area was along the river bank and we saw employees harvesting food for dinner. It has grown beyond the 4 cottages listed in the Lonely Planet book and now also has a two-story building that has another score of rooms. Unfortunately, it was full and since we were out of service our tour guide had not been able to reach us to communicate that or an alternative. After several calls by the people at the Cottages with various translations, we were directed back up the valley to the Old Telari Guesthouse.  

This turned out to be a wonderful experience. The guesthouse required us to drive off the main road up a steep dirt/rock lane through a village. Lots of kids playing, cows being brought home and adults socializing or playing games. It is a working farm with cows, a trout farm, vegetables and fruit. We had a large room with shared common area and bathrooms, but there were no other guests. There was virtually no English spoken and they seemed to indicate that there was no wifi, but they had a computer in the common room. It was in Georgian and I did not want to try to mess up the settings by getting it into English. A son, one of 5 kids, his wife and child, one of 10 grandchildren, lived there along with the hostess and her one-armed husband. After the husband brought the cows back the wife milked them. She got two large buckets of milk (there was still some left for the calves to drink) and then showed us how she made cheese.

The dinner came entirely from food produced on the farm, including the fish and wine. (I assume that she bought the flour, but she made the bread in the outdoor oven.) We had trout, vegetables, cheese and bread. But I drank the local water and later paid for that. Most of the homes have vineyards and we were served homemade white wine. All very good.