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.
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.
I had the same experience of no women in Morocco. I concluded that the Moslem culture must require them to remain hidden (at home doing chores/taking care of family etc.) from view, especially by men. In Morocco the men do the grocery shopping. It is eery on some level but an important reminder of how different the role of women is in other parts of the world.
ReplyDeleteI wonder if all the driving wears you down.