With the Help of Strangers To The Heart of Turkish Kurdistan

July 18 is when these events occurred, Tatvan to Diyarbakir

This was going to be a long drive and I wanted to get started early. The Crater Hotel provided its third very good breakfast. I enjoyed sitting on on the balcony during breakfast and looking out over Lake Van. In one direction the lake stretched as far as the eye could see. In another direction I saw Tatvan stretching around the western end of the lake and its harbor. There were several steamers, most docked, but one taking off, probably to Van. The houses cascaded down the hill to the waters edge, and in the distance you could see the lake's north shore that we had travelled on three days prior. Finally, up toward the horizon I could see Mt. Nemrut, still streaked with snow. (There are two mountains with this name in Turkey, both named after the same Turkish explorer. This one is an inactive volcano now topped by water-filled craters. The other is taller, part of the Anti-Taurus (like the Ford car) mountain range and is topped with giant heads.) Due to time constraints, we did not go up this Nemrut.

We got going pretty early and before we left town, I decided to fill the gas tank at a BP station on the edge of town. While we were being filled up -- there is no self-service in Turkey, or indeed anywhere on our trip except in France-- the owner came over. First commenting on the wretched appearance of our car, he directed us to the car wash, brushing aside my objections with the promise that "it's free, on me". Then he directed us over to some chairs and had a youngster get us some tea. That began a lengthy discussion with several teas. The owner is relatively young and lives outside Istanbul with his wife and three children. With his brother, who he said is an architect, he owns a string of gas stations across Turkey. This station was very clean and well maintained. It is relatively new. He said that it took him two years to get all the permits and approvals needed to construct and open the station. He said that he has several BP stations and knew about the Gulf platform fire and oil spill. He joked that the Americans were taking all his money with the BP billion-dollar-settlement. He is a Kurd, and although he lives near Istanbul (we were later told that there are 5 million Kurds living in the Istanbul area), like many of the Kurds we spoke with, he was very negative about the current Turkish government's dealings with the Kurds. He had just gotten back from a vacation with his brother in Sarajevo. So much for getting an early start.

On our drive we initially passed Bitlis and began a very long descent through Bitlis Canyon along a river. It was a pretty, engaging drive negotiating the canyon twists and turns that went on for over 70 km. However, once we exited the canyon we began a long, hot, boring drive on D360 across the Anatolian plateau, punctuated only by bathroom and gas stops (the later to do the former).

We arrived at Diyarbakir in mid afternoon. It was a much larger town than I expected with over one million people. Turns out it is the heart of the Kurdish "nation" in Turkey and as such was the center of the 20-year-long PKK (Kurdish Workers Party) guerrilla war against Turkey. A legacy of this violence seems to be the many military installations that are present in the area. All surrounded by barbed wire. (Whom do they need protection from?) Indeed, later in our trip when we were in western Turkey, many expressed surprise, "You were there!" when we told them that we had gone to Diyarbakir. Anyway, our GPS seemed to be working, but it led us astray when seeking our hotel. I finally stopped at a tea house to ask for directions. The seated customers promised to help, but first we had to sit down with them and drink tea, for which they would accept no payment. They were all Kurdish young men. They spoke limited English, but were delighted to learn that we had been traveling through Kurdish areas and wanted to know how we liked the area, its people and what we had seen. A lot of the communication was facilitated by showing them our pictures.

After about 30 minutes and several tea refills, they decided to get a car and lead us to our hotel. We waited a bit for the car, more tea (by then I really had to go to the bathroom) and then they led us to our hotel. Just thanks was all they required. We checked into the SV Business Hotel, which was near one of the gates of the city walls and on a bustling street that our room overlooked. Most of the corners were occupied with food carts, usually mountains of melons of various types. I could not definitively determine what the requested price was, but it seemed as if they sought 5 lira for a kilogram of melon. If correct, that would be about 75 cents per pound. Our car was taken away to an unknown destination for parking.

After getting set up in our hotel, we ventured out and walked to the wall. We passed through the gate and entered an area of official looking buildings that surrounded a park. Many of the buildings are museums that were closed for the day. We encountered a group of six young men who invited us for a drink, tea of course, at a cafe that overlooked the Tigris River. About half spoke English. The most vocal was in the travel/tourist business, and he was very interested in the details of our trip. He recommended that we go up to Mt. Nemrut and said that he would be taking a group there on Monday. He also gave us a checklist of things to see in Diyarbakir. Another was a chemist and two were teachers. To varying degrees, they all were not happy with the current government and felt that it was not permitting the Kurds to express their cultural identity. They were happy that a cease fire had been negotiated between the PKK and the government, but felt that the problems persisted. Virtually all expressed a desire to visit America some day. (I wonder if they tell that to Russian visitors?)

Leaving them when it started to turn dark, we sought out a restaurant for dinner. After striking out on a few places that were not open for dinner, we ended up going to a restaurant on a second floor that seemed to be a local place. Lots of families with kids. I thought that we ordered meat skewers, but unlike the patrons, our meat, while cooked, did not come on a skewer. I passed on the tea, but drank lots of cold, bottled water while other patrons drank out of free pitchers. A good dinner at a reasonable price.  We enjoyed conversation with a young man at the table next to us, who was in the Turkish Air Force.

On the way back to our hotel we walked through the Nebi Camii, a mosque with a detached minaret (we had not seen that before) that was covered in alternating black and white bands of stone.  End of a long day of tea drinking.

    

Thessaloniki

August 3 is when these events occurred- Thessaloniki

The hotel provided a terrific buffet breakfast that we ate adjacent to the pool. Then we drove into the city and found free parking near the university. Probably only because school was not in session.

This city was named for a woman who herself was named for a military victory. Thessaloniki was the daughter of Macedonian king Phillip II (and thus the sister of Alexander the Great) who won the battle of Thessaly. She married one of Alexander's generals who named the city after his wife in 316 BC. It was the eastern capital of the Roman empire and the western capital of the Byzantine empire. After the Ottomans captured the city, they welcomed Sephardic Jews who were fleeing the Inquisition to resettle there, so there was a lot of population diversity. I read that the Ottoman Sultan questioned, how smart can King Ferdinand be if he exiles some of his most able and productive citizens? At some point in the 16th century, these Jews formed the largest population group in the city and on the eve of WWII they numbered 60,000. However, all but a few thousand of the Jews were deported to Nazi concentration camps during WWII. Another population jolt was the 1923 forced deportation of people of Turkish ethnicity and the assimilation of tens of thousands of ethnic Greeks who were evicted from western Turkey.

We attempted to do a self-guided walking tour of the city. It began with a climb to the highest point in the old city, the tower and eastern end of the Byzantine walls. However, before we got there we had to pass a local cemetery which contained the graves of many local notables, and scores of cats. While the climb was hard and hot, at least we knew that it would be all downhill after that. The walls and tower ("pyrgos") offered expansive views of the city and the gulf. They were originally built during the 4th century by the Byzantines  to resemble the walls of Constantinpole, and were rebuilt by the Ottomans in the 14th century. In 1821 in response to the Greek's war for independence, the Turks strengthened the walls using stones from the Jewish cemetery. I also saw an incredibly wrinkled and old woman up there.

After that we went to the Monastery of Viatadon (sounds like a computer game). It was an incredibly relaxing place with peacocks and flamingos on the grounds. The present structure was built in the 14th century, but its religious origins go back much further and St. Paul preached at the site in the first century. It also had a lot of well preserved frescos on its walls.

After that we got lost and missed several churches. However, we wandered through a seemingly prosperous and well landscaped neighborhood of winding and narrow streets. No sign of austerity here. We came out at the bottom at City Hall. We tried to get euros at a bank, but we were told that we had to go to a currency exchange. One would have thought that Greece would remove any impediments to obtaining foreign currency.

As we continued wandering around, we were approached by a stranger who helped us get back on course. He was a former cab driver and professed to know the city well. He directed us to a broad open area that was the Roman Agora. This was a large commercial market area that the Macedonians founded in the 3rd century BC and the Romans maintained. There were clustered shop walls and mosaic floor remnants. The English placard said that it is now the site of a city-sponsored urban picnic area with free food and music, but alas we missed that. Adjacent to the Agora is the Yeni Hamam, a large 17th century former Turkish bathhouse that now hosts concerts and art exhibits.

We walked down a broad main street that led to the water. It appeared to be the city's main shopping street and it was lined with fading multistory apartment buildings. We found a currency exchange and they offered a very bad rate, so we exchanged a small amount of money. Off on a side street, after much searching we found the Yed Lazikaron, the city's only surviving synagogue, but it was closed.

We walked to and then along the waterfront to the White Tower. This is the city's most famous landmark. It was initially built by the Byzantines and then added onto by various other rulers and now has six stories. It has been the scene of many bloody battles, most prominently in 1826 when the Ottomans massacred rebellious Islamicised formerly Christian teenage troops, and also in 1913, when the Greeks reconquered the city and the tower. After that battle the walls were whitewashed to remove the blood. The tower contained interesting interactive exhibits about the city's history.

We then started our walk back to the car and visited three Roman ruins. The first was the Palace of Emperor Galerius. Not much left except some mosaic-tiled floors, columns and walls. Then we went to the Arch of Galerius, which commemorated a Roman victory over the Persians. Lots of reliefs of lunging soldiers. Finally we went to the Rotunda. This huge structure was another Galerius project. It was intended to be his mausoleum, but he died while in retirement (I did not think that emperors got to retire) in Serbia, so it was made into a church. As they frequently did, the Ottomans converted it into a mosque.

We missed the Ataturk House and the Museum of Macedonian Struggle because these were closed on Sunday. Anyway, it was hot and we were pretty tired after all the walking, so we hiked back to the car and took off for Kastoria. GPS got us out of town without a problem and after about a two-hour drive on the toll road, we exited and began a drive through a forested area. Historically Kastoria has been deeply involved in the fur trade and it made the area rich. There are still many furs shops and factories.

We arrived at our hotel, the Esperos Palace Hotel, just before a big rainstorm. I went out on the balcony to our room and just soaked up the rain after a day in the heat. This is a terrific ski resort hotel, which unfortunately, we visited in the low season so its pool was closed. We went to dinner at a local restaurant down the street from the hotel. We each got a very good fish dinner with some good Greek wine. Initially we were the only ones there, but several couples came in after us. Lots of cats at the restaurant (the shutters at the windows were open). Again, there was no indication of austerity other than the fact that we were the only guests at the hotel.

   

Zagreb

August 8-10 is when these events occurred

Zagreb was a fun and interesting place to visit. It probably would have been better if we had come on a non weekend, non late summer day.

Zagreb is the capital of Croatia, but seems very different from the rest of the country that we have visited. Unlike the land of time-passed interior villages that we passed through or the ancient and touristy coastal towns and villages, Zagreb was a welcome jolt of big city activity and sophistication. Unfortunately, we arrived at a time -- weekend -- when much of the cultural infrastructure shuts down. It was explained to me that Sunday afternoons and Mondays, and all of early August, is when all of Croatia goes to the coast (as I saw from the opposing traffic on our drive in on the toll roads). So it was pretty quiet and largely devoid of tourists.

Zagreb used to be two walled medieval cities, Gradec and Kaptol, separated by a river. The river has long since been paved over and is now Tkaleiceva Ulica ("ulica" means street), a pedestrian only, eateries lined, people watching mecca.  Today one sixth of all Croatians live in Zagreb.

Kaptol became the Bishop's seat in the 11th century and by the 16th century Gradec became the administrative center under the Austrian empire for the Croatian region. This area never fell under Ottoman rule. In 1848 the Hungarians revolted against the Austrians. During this period the Hungarians were exerting increasing control over the Croats, even attempting to make Hungarian the official language. (Throughout the trip we repeatedly learned of efforts throughout history, and continuing today [see Kurds in Turkey], by one group to stamp out the cultural identity, including language, of another group.) Josip Jelacic, a nationalist Croatian leader sided with the Austrians in the belief that they would win and that the Croatians would get a better shot of preserving their identity under the Austrians rather than the Hungarians. When the Austrians won, the Croatians indeed got more autonomy, the two towns merged to become Zagreb and Jelacic got the main square in Zagreb named after him and his statue in the center of the square.  His statue originally faced north to stare down the Hungarians. During the communist era, Jelacic was considered a dangerous nationalist so his statue was removed (but curiously not destroyed.) When Croatia became independent his statue was returned to the square, but this time facing south to stare down the Serbs. When the Austrians built a railroad from Budapest to the Adriatic port of Rijeka through Zagreb in the late 19th century, the city took off. Now it is one of Europe"s smallest capitols.

We left our guesthouse near Plitvice after making our own breakfast, a novel activity on this trip. Cereal, fruit and ice cream. Drove about an hour on the old Zagreb/Split highway, a two-lane road until we rejoined the toll road. It was pretty busy going north, but going south to the coast it was crawling. The drivers got to go slow and paid dearly for the privilege. We were moving at a good pace until we got within 12km of the toll booth. Then traffic came to a crawl and it took almost an hour to get through that bottleneck.  

That made us late for our meeting with the guy who was going to let us into the apartment that I rented in Zagreb from InZagreb. So we ate lunch around the corner and waited until the representative returned. It was a spectacular apartment. It is on the 4th floor of a late 19th century building that had one of those gated elevators that you see in old European movies. It was over 1000 sq ft with a living room, a separate bedroom and a full kitchen (including laundry) and a dining area. Also bicycles came with the apartment. I could live there. In contrast, the average Zagrebian lives in a 250 sq. ft. apartment.

After settling in the apartment and starting what turned out to be several loads of laundry, we walked out to Jelacic Square and up to the Gradec upper town area. We walked on Ilica Street and through the Octagon shopping gallery that a century ago was the ultimate in iron and glass shopping elegance and still features Croata, a tie shop. The Croatians claim that they invented the neck tie when they fought with the French during the Thirty Years War and tied their scarves in a distinctive knot. We then passed through Stone Gate, Gradec's only surviving town gate. Inside the gate is a small chapel whose focal point is a painting of Mary that survived the fire that burned down the original gate in the 18th century. As a result of that they created the chapel when they rebuilt the gate. There are lots of plaques in the chapel from people whose prayers have been answered.    Mary is also the patron saint of Zagreb. We also passed Zagreb's oldest pharmacy, dating to 1355. We then entered St. Mark's Square named after the Church in the center. The church's roof is composed of very colorful tiles with two coats of arms, on the left for Croatia and on the right for Zagreb. Zagreb is apparently trying to encourage tourism. One thing it is doing is having actors walk around St. Mark's Square in period costume from various centuries on Saturday night. So we saw soldiers, police, society couples, country maidens etc. walking around and giving little history lessons. The final group of three 19th century soldiers spoke with us after their end-of-shift time of 8:00, but then begged out citing their need for water.

Zagreb was the home of Nikola Tesla (yes, the car is named after him) who was born in Croatia, but was an ethnic Serb. He championed alternating current (AC) rather than direct current (DC) championed by Edison. So while Edison won the publicity war, Tesla's AC system prevailed. And while Zagreb was the first city in the world at Tesla's urgings to build an AC power plant (Buffalo was the first in the US), this section of town continues to be lit by gas lamps.  We saw them being lit by a lamplighter.

The square is now pedestrian only. On one side of the square is the Sabor, Croatia's Parliament. On the other side is Ban's Palace, which now houses the offices of the Prime Minister. We were told that this was one of the few buildings in Zagreb that was bombed by the Yugoslav Air Force during the 1991 war. You can see the different color tiles on the roof that were used to repair it after the bombing.

We then exited the square and walked down a street that had old time, tiny street signs in both Croatian and German. I climbed the Burglars' Tower that is the last remnant of walls built in the 13th century to keep out the Tartars who were busily ransacking central Europe at the time. On the Tower's top floor there is a small cannon It is fired every day at noon to help Zagrebians set their watches. We strolled the Strossmayer Promenade where they were showing outdoor movies and which is the upper terminus of the funicular. Lots of cafes and artists displaying their wares here.

We were unsuccessful in getting into the restaurant of our choice (made a reservation for the next night) and so we ate dinner at Bistro Agava, off the main square watching lots of people pass by. Paid a premium for location. The food was just OK.

The next morning we ate breakfast in our apartment. A mixture of fruit the hosts had provided for us and items we had brought from our prior guest house outside of Plitvice. Our first stop was the Croatian Museum of Naive Art. As I learned, in the late 19th century the art world began to broaden its definition of art and looked for works from individuals untrained in the art academies or salons. The work is not by amateur or folk artists, but by "great" artists who were not formally trained.

In Croatia in the 1930s this took the form of art by untrained peasants. At that time, 85% of Croatians lived in rural areas and were illiterate and uneducated, and lived without electricity or other modern conveniences. This movement captured that humble life in expressionist paintings. Many of the paintings are on glass rather than the more expensive and less available canvas. The star of the movement is Ivan Generalic who was discovered in Paris in the 1930s, sold several of his paintings and  returned to Croatia both rich and a star. The museum featured his work and the work of his successors. The work was so interesting, we later bought three small paintings from a current artist of this school.

We then went to the Croatian history museum (not to be confused with the Croatian National History Museum to which we were wrongly directed). It is housed in a former mansion and had interesting exhibits, especially photographs, about the 1991-95 Wars for Independence. Of course it was told from the Croatian viewpoint, so there was no mention of the Croatians massacre of hundreds of thousands of Serbs during WWII or that the the Croatians schemed with the Serbs during those wars to carve up Bosnia between them, or that while the Croats decry the siege of Dubrovnik as depraved, they do not mention their siege of Mostar. Isn't nationalism great!

By then it was 2:00 and almost all the museums were closed, so we retraced our steps and walked down to Tkalciceva Street to get some lunch. But first we passed a row of old time houses that in the past was Zagreb's red light district. Prostitution used to be legal in Zagreb and the balconies of these houses faced the spire of the main cathedral in town. This street is lined with restaurants and people seemingly just passing the time watching others pass by. We ate lunch at Restaurant Agava. It has terraces climbing up the hill and an interior that looked like a 19th century home. The food was pretty good and the prices reasonable, but the respite form the sun was great.

After lunch we walked uphill on the other side to the Kaptol area, Zagreb's other medieval city. This side of the city houses the daily morning market , that we missed, and Zagreb's main Cathedral. This is the most important church in a very Catholic country. It is almost constantly being renovated with new stone because, while it is fine to use limestone to build on the coast that does not have freezing weather, that does not work as well in the interior where there are cold freezing winters. It was burned by the Tartars in the 13th century and when rebuilt, it was surrounded by a wall, most of which still exists. The church is very big and ornate with monuments and burial sites of many prominent Croatians; but recently as money dried up, the chandeliers were supposedly imported from Las Vegas.

Three sites in the church caught my eye. First there was the monument to Josip Jelacic, the Croatian nationalist discussed above who fought the Hungarians and gained greater independence for the Croats; but right next to that is a display of three sainted Hungarian kings who (when Croatia was part of Hungary) founded and built the church. Imagine that you are a Croatian first grader who is brought to the church on a field trip.   He must be thinking, Praise those wonderful Hungarians who built the church and thank god we defeated them in battle.  The second monument that caught my eye was a sculpture of Alojzije Stepinac by the sculptor Ivan Mestrovie (we did not get to his museum) who fled communist Yugoslavia to live in Detroit. Alojzije Stepinac was the archbishop of Zagreb during WWII, who supported the Ustasc, the Nazi puppet government in Croatia that killed hundreds of thousands of Serbs, along with Jews, gypsies and communists. I assume that he did that because he thought that was the best way for Croatians to gain independence from the Serbs. After the war Tito's government convicted him and sentenced him to jail and then house arrest for the remainder of his life. However, in an independent Croatia Stepinac is considered a martyr and an inspirational figure of faith. I imagine that the Serbs have a different view of him. On the bottom of the monument is carved, "Made in Detroit". Finally within the church is a glass case that contains a sculpture of Stepinac's eerily lifelike waxy body. It looked gruesome. His actual remains are below.

We then went back to the apartment. I got a bicycle out of the basement and took a ride through the Green Horseshoe park and then further south. I got lost coming back, but then pointed the bike to the cathedral spires to get back to the apartment.

Before dinner we picked up our three pictures and I went to the Museum of Broken Relationships. Opened in 2010 by a couple who had recently broken up, it contains stories and mementos from ordinary couples who had broken up, sometimes after a short period and sometimes after many years of marriage.  Lots of stories, many poignant, but my favorite was the account of a 15-year-old Bosniak boy who met a young Croatian girl while their convoy out of Sarajevo during the siege was stranded for 4 days. When the girl's part of the convoy abruptly left they did not have a chance to say good-bye. He wrote her a letter, but all he received back was a letter from her older sister. It was in Bosnian, so I could not read it. I assume the girl was killed.

We had dinner outdoors at Konaba Didov San. Traditional hinterland Croatian food. Very nice dinner and just a few kuna more than the prior night's dinner.

The next day, Monday, we tried to leave early, primarily because virtually none of the museums were open and free street parking ended. Karen went in to a local hair dresser at 7:40am (and she wasn't their first customer).  After another self-prepared breakfast, we were on the road by 10:30.    

Crossing over and Coming in from the Heat

August 2 is when these events occurred

During our time in Istanbul, while we stayed exclusively on the European side, it did not feel as if we had returned to Europe; yet it also did not feel as if we were still in Asia. Today we got to Europe! Not only did the environment change, but our GPS with the talking instructions returned.

But before we left I experienced an odd emotion. During the prior two mornings at breakfast we had sat near the front of the restaurant, both to get more daylight and to watch the people stroll by. Another young western couple also did the same thing. However, on this day in the front there were several very traditionally clad Muslim women sitting in the front with a number of their rowdy kids. I do not know if it was their noise, the commotion or having to watch the women pass food under their veils to eat, but I did not want to be part of that so we sat in the back. The other western couple coincidentally did the same. The breakfast was still good.

It is amazing what three days in a city and not being tired does for new sense of direction. This time there was no problem driving out of Istanbul. I even ad libbed and did not follow the GPS directions, believing correctly that I knew an easier way to get to the correct route. Istanbul is a very big city. We just moved in a very small sphere. It took almost an hour to drive beyond the city limits. By then we entered a rolling farmland that we had not observed upon our first trip to Istanbul, since we arrived after darkness. The area was much flatter than anything we had previously seen in Turkey and the crops seemed to be more grains rather than orchards. Using our hard-earned PTT sticker obtained during our previous trip in Turkey, we were on the toll road for about an hour. (Ended up leaving money on the sticker.) Then we turned off to a secondary road and traveled south heading for the border crossing with Greece.

We stopped for gas balancing the desire not to run out of gasoline against the wish to minimize purchases of gasoline in a country with Europe's second highest gas prices. Used the rest of our Turkish money on ice cream and snacks.

The Turkish/Greek border crossing does not seem like a model of cooperation. We had to pass through four Turkish checkpoints to get out of the country. There was not much of a line exiting Turkey, but it took time to get through all the checkpoints, all of which seemed to ask for the same documents, passports and car registration and ownership. No verbal inquiries. When we finished with the last Turkish checkpoint, Greece was no where in sight. We drove about 1/2 mile and came to Greek immigration. This was the EU border so I anticipated an extensive inquiry. We were basically just waved through and the customs station was closed. The line going into Turkey was very long; it seemed to be at least several km. Maybe people returning on Sunday after  a weekend.

We entered Greece in its northern tier. The temperature was cooler. I had no intention of going into southern Greece, both because I did not want to experience Athens' summer heat and because we were running out of time if I was going to meet the daughter in Dubrovnik. So we set our sights for Thessaloniki, Greece's second largest city. The toll road we traveled on was surprisingly cheap, only a few toll gates that charged from 1.2 to 2.4 euros (fortunately we had a few of them left). However, after one toll gate we were waved over by Greek police using a little stick. The officer approached the car with his hand on his sidearm. He asked for identification, driver's license and car documentation. No reason was given for his action and after about 5 minutes the documents were returned and we were waved on.

In Turkey there were lots of gasoline stations on all types of roads. It would be hard to run out of gasoline in Turkey. There were no gas stations on this toll road and throughout our three-day trip in Greece, gasoline stations were not plentiful. We exited when we saw a sign for a gas station. Gasoline prices were lower than in Turkey, but not by a lot.

It was a spectacular ride on the well-maintained road, and most places followed the winding, twisting coastline, usually from cliffs overlooking it. Lots of small towns either clinging to a cliff or hugging a bay. The beaches seemed small, but in many cases secluded. We passed a number of marinas, many with very large boats. We passed through Thrace and saw a sign for Alexander the Great Airport outside Xanthi.

It took us several hours to reach Thessaloniki.  I had made reservations at the Les Lazaristes Hotel. It was not in the center of the city so it would be easier to find, it had free on-site parking and it had a pool. The GPS directions were good and this hotel had signs miles away with directions to it. The parking was as advertised, but alas, the pool was unavailable. The pool was set in an open-air courtyard within the hotel, but it was surrounded by the eating area for the hotel restaurant. Thus, it was open only from 11-7. No one told me that. . . so as I was about to enter the pool, a waiter hurriedly rushed over to me waving his arms and telling me entry was prohibited. It was a nice pool, too.

We had dinner along side the pool. Not adequate compensation.  

The Daughter Arrives, and Departs

August 5-6 -Three Countries

I had arranged to pick up my daughter at the Dubrovnik airport in Croatia. She was coming to Montenegro, Kotor Bay for a class reunion (they have only been out of school for only one year) and a summer beach vacation. We were spending the night in the Hotel Idea (yes, that is the real name) in Tirana, Albania and GPS informed me that it was a 5-hour drive from Tirana to Dubrovnik airport.  I planned to leave by 8:00 am to get to there 30 minutes prior to her flight's scheduled arrival. It did not work out.

Breakfast began at 7:00am. We showed up at 6:30 because, since we did not have any phone service, our phones did not change time when we left Greece and entered Albania. The latter is on central European time while the former shares a time zone with Turkey. I mistakenly thought the night before that since we were in Albania their clocks must be incorrect.

When we finally arrived at the correct time we had an adequate breakfast at the hotel. I was spoiled by the prior breakfast at the ski lodge, so while this was a perfectly fine breakfast, it paled in comparison. We left almost on time and, courtesy of the GPS we downloaded in the hotel, without getting lost. The traffic in Tirana was fairly heavy, but the travel actually got worse as we left Tirana. The main road north is a survey two-lane road with lots of truck traffic and, because there was traffic in both directions there were few opportunities to pass; even when I was able to do so, I just encountered another truck. I should know better by now.

Outside of Tirana, Albania seemed to be pretty poor. We saw many more animal-drawn carts than in any other country and many of the structures looked as if they were very old and in need of maintenance. Of course, they could have been palaces on the inside. The area was heavily agricultural, but much of it was not mechanized and the farms seemed to be smaller, like India. However, the road was largely free of potholes.

So we were behind schedule when we reached the Albanian/Montenegro border. This was a strange crossing. The Albanian immigration officer briefly looked at our paperwork and waved us forward, without giving us the paperwork back. I thought that we were being sent to Albanian customs, but no, the paperwork had been passed to the Montenegrin immigration officers. They also asked for auto documentation, but also quickly passed us through, but not before giving us a pamphlet that indicated that all foreigners had to pay a .5 euro tax per day. There is a 48-hour grace period for paying and since we were only passing through Montenegro, we concluded that it did not apply to us.

The passage through Montenegro along the coast is a very scenic and at times breathtaking drive. However, it is slow under the best conditions and since this is the summer and the height of the tourist season, when Europeans of all stripes and flags come to the coast to enjoy the beach (very rocky and narrow) and sun, passage at times was tortuously slow, particularly when passing through the numerous towns that are present in virtually every bay into which the tourists flocked. I felt as if I was driving on Route 1 along the Florida coast in February. Unfortunately, T-Mobile and Montenegro have not gotten together, so we were out of plan coverage with texts at .50 a pop and calls for $5.99 per minute, so it was pricey getting in touch with my daughter. There was no problem with directions; there was only one road along the coast.

I then entered into a long-distance electronic dance with my daughter about the best way to meet. Should she take the bus to Kotor or should she wait at the airport? i was not sure where I was or how long it would take for me to get to Dubrovnik. We ended up making bad choices. I thought that I was further away than I was and I also thought that she could get a bus directly to Kotor at the airport.  Turns out I was past Kotor and she could only get a bus to Dubrovnik and from there connect to Kotor.

So she ended up taking the bus to Dubrovnik and waiting for us there while we passed the airport and eventually picked her up at the bus station mid afternoon. On the way there we took another ferry that cut across one of the fjord-like bays, avoiding the need to drive around it. The Montenegro/Croatia border crossing took about 20 minutes. Not a lot of inspection by the officers, but just a long line, particularly at the non EU passport gate. However, over in the other direction going into Montenegro, it looked like a 2-hour wait.

Rather than try to see Dubrovnik that afternoon or drive back into Montenegro, we decided to drive about an hour north up to Mali Ston at the base of the Peljesac Peninsula. We had eaten lunch there in May, the coastal drive is spectacular (we had done it up and down in May) and Ston is a great place to relax for 24 hours.  We stayed at a small inn, Villa Koruna, that was on the dock on a finger off the Adriatic Sea and its restaurant was adjacent to the small harbor. Ston has a Great Wall that climbs up and then down the mountain to Mali Ston. Rather than climb the wall we decided to go swimming in the bay. There was a small beach. The water temperature was perfect and we swam for about an hour. Then we ate dinner at the hotel restaurant.

The next morning I again went for a swim as my daughter slept in. We had breakfast at the hotel. A very different menu than I had become used to, a platter of several meats, cheeses and bread. No cucumbers or tomatoes, although I ordered watermelon. After breakfast we hiked a portion of the wall. A very relaxing stay.

We drove back down to Dubrovnik and due to the need to get my daughter on the 3:30 bus to Kotor, our tour of the city was limited. We entered at the Pile Gate and strolled down the Stradun. Checked out Onofrio's Big Fountain (you can drink that water) and then passed through Luza Square and by Orlando's Column, a symbol of Dubrovnik's independence from Venice and the site of major government announcements. We walked around the harbor and entered some cathedrals and then had some lunch.  Got my daughter back to the bus station on time, but they overbooked the bus and she was standing in the aisle. They wheeled out a second bus to which she transferred which left before the regularly scheduled bus, She got to Kotor on time; 98 kuna fare. That currency was created under the Ustase, the Nazi puppet state set up during WWII that killed hundreds of thousands of Serbs. Imagine what the local Serbs felt in 1991 when the newly declared independent Croatia adopted the same currency?  

We then turned north, over the Franjo Tudman Bridge and along the Split-Dubrovnik coastal road for the fifth time -- it was still scenic -- on our way to Plitvice National Park. After about 2 hours we turned inland onto the relatively new toll road. This runs near and roughly parallel to the Bosnian border and goes through mountainous and sparsely populated terrain that was captured by the Yugoslavian People's Army (Serbia) in 1991, and recaptured by Croatia in Operation Storm in 1995. Many of the villages we passed seemed to be deserted, possibly abandoned by Serbs after the Croatian reconquest. The road is an engineering marvel. It has many tunnels, bridges and at times clings to the side of mountains. With all that it is an expensive toll road.

The last hour of the drive took us off the toll road and on to the old Split-Dubrovnik "highway." It is a two-lane road that made for slow travel. We arrived at our residence, the Milan Guest House, at about 10:00, under a very starry sky.    

  

Plitvice

August 7

We awoke in the Milan Guest House to a new experience, making our own breakfast. Since we had arrived the night before we had not done any food shopping. Even though he spoke no English, and I no Croatian, the owner managed to understand my need for food and directed me to the local market. He also made suggestions about where to park for free (I disregarded that, because I anticipated walking a lot and did not want to add to that), where to enter the park and how to tour it.

Plitvice is located on the old Zagreb-Split highway and is only a few miles from the Bosnian border. I think this area was the scene of much fighting during the 1991 war when the Serbs captured the area, and again in 1995 when the Croats recaptured the region as part of Operation Lightning. The first shots and casualty in the 1991 war occurred in the Park and Serbian forces occupied the Park from 1991-95. It seems to be a relatively poor region that has not recovered from the wartime fighting and whose main business now is the Park. It attracts over a million tourists a year, but we encountered only one other US tourist, a family from NYC.

After purchasing breakfast and some lunch supplies at the market we headed for Plitvice Lakes National Park. We arrived about 9 am and there were already lots of cars parked on roads in a forested area. No real parking lot. Even at that early hour there was a 20 minute wait to purchase an entrance ticket. Only two ticket booths, although I later realized that there was a third booth at the park entrance. At $25 a ticket they could afford to staff more booths. They have dynamic pricing. If we had gone in May it would have been half the price and in the winter it is only a third of the price.

My knowledge of Plitvice was limited to the tour book and I did not know what to expect. By the end of the day I was of the opinion that Plitvice is one of Europe's most spectacular natural wonders. It is as if someone had diced up Niagara Falls and sprinkled it into a forested Kings Canyon. It is a lush valley of 16 terraced lakes joined together by many waterfalls and boat rides, and laced with walking trails and     wooden boardwalks.

You move through the park by electric-powered boats, shuttle buses or walking/hiking. I decided to try to take the motorized transportation uphill and to walk downhill. After we entered we took a short boat ride across a narrow lake. Then we got on another boat for a very nice 20-minute ride to the lower lakes area ("Donja Jezera"). No waiting or crowds at that time. We then hiked up to the cliffs overlooking the   canyon of the lower lakes. We then went down a steep path with lots of switchbacks that eventually took us to the Big Waterfall. ("Veliki Slap") It is about 250 feet high and had a pretty good water flow. We then started walking the boardwalks across the water and some of the smaller waterfalls. It got a bit crowded here and so we pulled off onto a big rock and ate lunch. Then we walked up to the Supljara "Bottomless" cave. Rather than going back up we went down and walked along the shoreline of Gavanovac Lake and ultimately back to the boat station. Again, not many crowds.

We took the boats back to the entrance area and hopped on a shuttle bus. There was a bit of a wait for it to leave, but the drive through the park was terrific. At the end we were at the far end of the upper lakes, Gornja Jezera. We took lots of time strolling through forests and under and around the many waterfalls here. Walked on both trails and boardwalks. You first hear the waterfalls, then see them and finally feel the spray.

The lakes and pools of water throughout the park are incredibly clear and a beautiful teal color most of the time. It is so clear that you can see the outlines of sunken boats. As the sun fell in the ski the color got darker. As explained to me, the geology here is pretty interesting. The magic ingredient is calcium carbonate (CaCO3 for those of you who recall your high school chemistry) When the water flows over the limestone formations it dissolves the rock and becomes saturated with calcium carbonate. When the water is still it holds onto the mineral and creates the beautiful water colors. When the water flows faster it releases carbon dioxide gas which causes the water to release the calcium carbonate on the lake beds and edges of the lakes and pools. This then causes the buildup of travertine which causes the formation of new waterfalls. The moss and grass form a foundation for the newly formed rock and it appears as if the rock is hanging down from the foliage.  

We didn't leave the Park until about 6, but then we had to get in line to buy a parking ticket to exit. Another line.

Back to the market to purchase dinner supplies, chicken, pasta and vegetables, and ice cream, as well as some breakfast. We ended up walking over 10 miles, but a nice tiring day.

The Iranians are Coming

July 17 -- Lake Van

Since I was still recovering from the break-the-Ramadan fast dinner of the prior evening, we got up late and staggered up to the roof top for breakfast at the Crater Hotel. This buffet has a larger than normal selection, but today it had two types of melons, the watermelon standard, and a honey dew type melon. I have been puzzled throughout the trips in Turkey and India by the fact that our hotels/guesthouses have always served watermelon, but almost always not any other melon, notwithstanding that in the street markets they are selling, and usually have mountains of, at least half a dozen different types of melons. I have asked about that but not gotten an answer that I understand.

We got in the car and set off for Van, this time traveling on the south shore of the lake. Lake Van is a very large, 3750 sq km, lake that was formed when Mt. Nemrut (the other one) had a volcanic explosion and blocked the river outflow. It is a beautiful lake surrounded even in July by snow capped mountains. Yet there is virtually no development. No water sports and virtually no beaches that we saw. The south shore is not as scenic a drive as the north shore that we did a few days earlier, but it was still nice, albeit there was not much there.

We stopped at a small harbor where boats take passengers to Akdemar Island. A pleasant 20-minute ride. But the highlight of the ride and island visit was meeting several groups of Iranians. Iran is about 70km from this island, but most of the Iranians we met came from Tehran. They were there on holiday. This was the day after the agreement had been reached between the US (technically 4 other countries and the EU, but the US seems to have been running the show) and Iran on the nuclear deal. The Iranians were ecstatic about this and eager to talk. They clearly had suffered from the effects of the various sanctions and embargo and were expecting that good economic times would soon return. They exhibited no hostility to us or the US. They discussed with us about the hostage take-over and their release just after Reagan took over from Carter. [Most hadn't even been born yet in 1979, but knew well the names of our Presidents during that time.] They described Iran as a beautiful country and insisted that we should come and visit. They said there were plenty of English speakers there and we would have no difficulty in Iran. We even got some e-mail addresses.

When I asked them about the history between the two countries, they often contended that both countries were at fault for the bad relations, but were unwilling to defend the embassy takeover (again most were too young to have a personal memory of that) and they rolled their eyeballs when I asked if they viewed the US as the Great Satan. They said they were taught that since grade school, but like a lot of what they have been taught, they said they dismissed that. They agreed that their government attempts to restrict the flow of information, and said it was very easy to get banned, such as US movies and TV shows. They contended that the Revolutionary Guards were part of the religious establishment that runs the country, and it profited by the sanctions through smuggling. Their impression of the Iranians in the US was that they were all rich.

The main attraction of the island is the Akdamar Killsesi, a 10th century Armenian church. It was constructed, along with a palace and monastery, both of which no longer exist, at the direction of King Gagik Artzruni, to commemorate some Armenian victory. The church walls have many relief carvings of Biblical stories that are in terrific shape. There was Adam and Eve, Jonah and the whale, David and Goliath, Abraham and the Issac sacrifice, and Daniel in the lion's den.  The inside had many frescos.

Of course, the island had a restaurant and even a WC. While we were on the island, we saw a lightening and thunder show in the distance and what appeared to be big rainstorms over the lake. So after about 2 hours, we went back to the boat and returned to the mainland. I was feeling very run down, so we did not do anything else and Karen drove back to the hotel. I fell asleep at 6 pm and slept for 12 hours.        

The evil eye, almost, got us, but it blinked

July 26 and 27 - Trip to Konya

Traveling throughout Turkey it is impossible to fail to notice that the evil eye, in various forms, is present (watching you?) wherever you go. It appears on beads, pendants, jewelry, little sculptures and even embedded in the pavement. I was even given an evil eye upon departure from our hotel in Diyarbakir. I was told by the hotel clerk that one can never be too careful. I scoffed, but I kept the evil eye I was given, and was told by many that belief in the evil eye remains widespread throughout Turkey. I was told that certain people carry within them a malevolent force. (We have all encountered such people, at work, in our social groups and in some cases even in our extended families.) This force can be transmitted to others through their eyes. Anything that has the image of the evil eye on it, the nazar boncuk, can reflect the evil eye look back on the originator.

So we left Cappadocia on a high note. Had gotten a good night's sleep, enjoyed a good breakfast, read the Sunday NY Times out on the roof top while sipping cold beverages, and had driven out of town without getting lost, notwithstanding a detour. We were making good progress on our way to Konya, after stopping for gasoline and a pee break -- when, just west of Aksaray I noticed that the car was losing power. Same symptoms as occurred in Georgia, bucking on the engine, no electrical power and power loss. I hoped to nurse it to the next gasoline station, but no such luck. It died just past kilometer marker 50-14/357.

What to do? We were on a major highway and, notwithstanding our upraised hood, no one was stopping. I called the roadside assistance we got with our insurance in France, but, not surprisingly, the menu listings were in French and the automated voice spoke too fast and the language too complex for our still-terrible French. I then decided to call our hotel in Konya for assistance and here is where we made the evil eye blink. The owner/manager who answered the phone spoke excellent English (as well as Turkish, Kurdish and German). After explaining the problem and determining my location, he promised to contact a mechanic and get back to us. Within 15 minutes he called back and said that a mechanic was on the way out, ON A Sunday! The mechanic came as promised, with two assistants. They inserted a temporary super battery and we followed them back to Aksaray, where they unlocked the garage shop. They brought in an electrician and another mechanic and while we guzzled cold Fanta, they repaired the alternator, which had not been sending electricity to the battery thus draining the latter and causing the failure. Upon a bill of 250 lira [we paid in euros and got change in lira, thus qualifying this as a true, international monetary transaction], we were on our way after only about a 2.5-hour delay.

Our GPS got us to the back of the hotel, and after I ran around to the front the owner greeted us warmly with cold drinks and ice cream. We thanked him repeatedly for his assistance and joked about the evil eye. He has been running his small hotel with his German wife for 5 years. It is a 200+ year old house that he restored with his brother, a rug merchant with a store down the street, and he complained that he worked 24 hours a day and was not getting ahead. He felt that the government was taking actions that discouraged tourism in the area. We spoke with many who were adamant that the Turkish government was helping ISIS and that local people knew that ISIS supporters were operating in Turkey with impunity. More than a few thought that Erdogan was solely interested in getting rid of Syria"s Assad and that the Turkish government was doing the bidding of the US government, and that it was being financed by the Saudis.

We took a walk around Konya. It is a large city with over a million residents, but a very conservative place. It was founded over 4000 years ago by the Hittites, but got its character from its position as the capital of the Seljuk Sultanate for about 200 years. Lots of mosques and minarets and the vast majority of the women we saw were dressed in very traditional Muslim garb. The prominance of the shapeless overcoats worn by the women was pronounced.

We walked to a restaurant across town and had a nice outdoor dinner capped off by the usual Turkish tea. At another table sat a young woman in a bridal gown and presumably her groom, with another couple. Our waiter explained that it was a custom for the betrothed to have a wedding dinner before the ceremony with their "teachers," (said with a knowing, mischievous smile). We had some ice cream on the way back where we also picked up some baclava, all for 13 lira. The latter was better than the former.

After a pretty good breakfast, we went to the Mevlana Museum the next morning. This is the former lodge of the whirling dervishes. Celaleddin Rumi, under the Seljuk Sultanate of Rum (not the drinking kind) became a great mystic philosopher and he became know as the Mevlana (Our Guide) to his followers. He was born in what is now Afghanistan in the 13th century, but ultimately fled to Konya to escape the Mongols.  He became a great teacher, but his many students allegedly became jealous of his close relationship with one of his disciples. The other disciples put the favored disciple to death and Rumi withdrew from the world, leaving his wife and children. After he died on December 17th 1273, a date known as his wedding night with Allah, his son organized his followers into a brotherhood called the whirling dervishes, or Mevlevi. They became very influential under the Ottomans, but Ataturk banned them as an obstacle to Turkish advancement. Several lodges survived as religious fraternities.

The Mevlevi worship ceremony, sema, is a ritual dance accompanied by chants that represents a union with God. More on the ceremony in a later blog.

The museum's entrance is marked by the words, "those who enter here incomplete will come out perfect." Mevlana's tomb is here along with other dervish notables, all under gold cloth and huge turbans. The more wraps, the greater spiritual importance.

We wrapped up by noon and started the long journey to Ephesus, accompamied by 3 liters of cold water provided by our hotel hosts.
        

Two Great Meals

August 4 - Into Albania. How many of you even know where Albania is?

We awoke in the Esperos Palace Hotel in Kastoria, a small lakefront town in northwestern Greece. This is a luxury hotel where the high season is late September to March. That coincides with the period when the coast is cold and rainy, and later the ski season. Lake Orestiada is a large, 9 km in diameter, pretty lake, but it is polluted and swimming is not feasible. So the summer is the low season. So low that we were the only occupiants in the 40-room hotel. So rather than a buffet breakfast, we received custom service from (the skeletel) staff. Whatever we ordered we received. A tray of watermelon. Omelets cooked to order and lean bacon. Fresh squeezed orange juice, hot chocolate, coffee and cappuccino to drink. Cheeses, meats, tomatoes, cucumbers, bread, coissiants, cookies and cakes. A feast for an Ottoman sultan.    

Staggered out after the breakfast and took a walk down to the lake, then along it almost into town. The town is in a mountainous and wooded area and has very low humidity, so it was a pleasant walk. Aside from the almost alpine feel, the town is striking for its many fur shops. The town got rich on the fur trade and has many beautiful mansions to show for it.

We left about 1:00 and headed west into the mountains on a curvy and steep road with many switchbacks. Passed a large turtle eating what seemed to be tar strips and after about 30 minutes we came to the Greek-Albanian border. This is a very small and little-used crossing. Greek customs simply looked at our passports and did not even ask what we had or what we had been doing. Immigration was a similar cursory check. Albania immigration asked for our car information, but it too was a quick process. There was no Albanian customs check. Drug smugglers haven.

So we entered Albania sort of naked. We did not have a tourist book, or any tourist information. We have a map of Europe, but it did not have any detail about Albania. We had no phone service, GPS or network connection, because T-Mobile does not have a contract there, but it did, along with Vodophone and other telecom services, have lots of billboards advertising its services. Finally we had no Albanian money, the lek, worth less than one cent, and there were no banks or exchanges that we passed to get any. We stopped in a gasoline station, primarily to go to the bathroom, but it did not accept credit cards -- the first time that has occurred on the trip, so we did not get gas. He did, however, graciously permit us to use the restrooms.

However, we had written down the GPS directions before we left Greece; we were going to the capital, Tirana, in a small country, so I assumed that there would be lots of signs for that destination. There were lots of signs, but we travelled down into and through a long, and very pretty, river valley in central Albania, that was a very curvy two-lane road. There were a lot of slow-moving trucks and many Albanian drivers (their license plates are noticeable since Albania is not in the EU) seemed reluctant to pass the trucks. They need to bring in some drivers from Georgia to give them aggression lessons. So we ate a lot of pollution from the trucks and made many passes around turns. At one point I saw a sign for a toll road to Tirana and I took it, notwithstanding the lack of local money. (I hoped it would take credit cards.) And it was great for a while. Four lanes, gentle curves and few trucks. But then it ended and we were going through small towns again. I never saw a toll booth. However, an interesting sight in one town was scores of hoses pointed upward and spraying out water (no drought here!) on to parking areas. One guy motioned for us to come in. I think they were car washes, but I had never seen so many in one town. We also saw kids selling fish when we passed a large lake, and in a forest area kids were selling what appeared to be boxes of berries.  We passed along several rocky beaches, and people were swimming, sunning or lounging under umbrellas.

When we reached Tirana the main road ended in a maze of construction and we were dumped on to the local streets. We were completely lost since our directions did not account for this detour. We finally made our way to a main street. I was looking for a hotel or bank where I hoped that someone would speak English, but not finding either, I stopped at an insurance/finance office. Luckily, an employee there spoke excellent English. As she was giving me directions another employee volunteered to get in the car with us and direct us to our hotel. That required rearranging the luggage, but after that was accomplished, he easily got us to the Hotel Idea ($38 per night including breakfast, a working refrigerator, excellent wifi, super air conditioning and strong shower water pressure, plus on-site free parking in the center of the city). He said it was near his home and he accepted nothing except our thanks--in fact, he thanked us for the pleasure of meeting us and practicing his English.

After checking in, we walked around the downtown. The main street has some nice buildings that probably predate the Soviet era, but they are fading and need some maintenance. The Soviet era buildings look crummy. We passed the Albanian "Pentagon," (I mean, Defense Department), Albanian University, The Opera House, the clock of Tirana (incorrect time). After dinner, we walked into Ethem Bet Mosque, a warm welcome with photos invited, and walked around Skanderbeg Square, the town center. While Albania is predominately a Muslim country, it looks very different from Turkey. The women dress in stylish Western clothes and there is no blaring, loud-speaker calls to prayer.

We avoided a rainstorm that was preceded by a lightening and thunder show by going to the Rozafa, Classic Seafood restaurant. We had a terrific four course meal in a wonderful setting with a young, intelligent, English-speaking waiter, who is completing IT studies at school and who was eager to engage in conversation. Nice time. Went back to the hotel because we needed to get to sleep to get up early to pick up the daughter in Dubrovnik tomorrow. We accomplished that easily the next morning, since our phones had not changed to reflect the hour earlier time zone -- so we are already an hour ahead of schedule.
     

Soft Roads and Hard Rocks

July 23-25 Cappadocia

I. Departure
We awoke at the Karadut Pension to some serious heat. It seemed to put the staff into a stupor. The main host was asleep on the couch when I came down. When I inquired to another staffer about breakfast, he motioned (no English) for me to go into the kitchen and serve ourselves. A basic breakfast had been prepared which we availed ourselves of. The usual, cucumbers, tomatoes, watermelon, bread and spreads, hard boiled eggs and a nondescript cooked egg dish, did not excite the pallet. During past meals at this pension, when we had asked for cold water ("soguk su") we received slightly cool water. Better than nothing, but not sufficient in the heat. So while I was in the kitchen, I went to the large refrigerator and pulled out an ice cold 2 liter bottle of water. The good stuff. That was heaven with breakfast. Unfortunately, we guzzled it all down and so it was not available on the trip.

We paid the pension bill with a credit card. [When I asked if I could pay that way, the main host answered as he did to most questions, "why not." Dinner at 8? "Why not." Extra barbecued chicken? "Why not;" watermelon at lunch? "why not;" tour leaving at 2? "why not," etc.] After paying, we then took off following GPS directions. They took us on a winding road up the mountain that led us back to the national park. That meant we would have to go up steep winding roads and pay another park entrance fee. The park attendant suggested another route, so we turned around and headed down the mountain. Just as we were approaching the pension we received a call from them saying that my credit card had been declined (a not uncommon event overseas), so we pulled in and gave them another credit card that worked. We then proceeded down the mountain and set out for Cappadocia.

II. The Trip
This was a long drive. We were traveling across the central Anatolian plateau. It is dry and traversed by many rivers which have created deep valleys. That led to high speed drives in neutral down the inclines into the valleys when I passed many vehicles, and then slow progress up the incline on the other side of the valley during which all the vehicles that I had previously passed, except for the large trucks moving in ultra slow motion, passed me. This went on many tines over two hundred kilometers.

It was also very hot. So hot that the asphalt pavement was melting to the extent that it felt and sounded as if I was driving on a very wet pavement. I could see tire treads in the pavement. We had lots of water, but it became so hot that it was almost undrinkable. Sweaty, hard and sticky clothes. We stopped for gasoline, but really to purchase cold drinks. The station was also offering complementary flavored drinks, orange, grape and something indescribable, that I drank too many of.  There were very few towns and none of any size. Mainly endless acres of hay, much of it in the process of being harvested. We passed many trucks that were loaded with scores of bags of hay twice as high as the cab and extending out over the sides of the truck in the form of an inverted pyramid. They looked as if the first breeze would topple them over. There appear to be no overpasses in this part of Turkey, so there appeared to be no limit to the heights of these loads.

III. Arrival
We made it to Goreme in about 7 hours without getting lost. However, finding our hotel was another matter. Cappadocia is a region, not a town. Goreme is the central town in the region. Most of its hotels are so-called cave hotels that have been carved out of and into the strange rock formations that litter the region. The streets are narrow, winding, one way (not always observed) and usually unmarked. I tried to follow the GPS, but it lead us astray. Finally I gave up and began asking for directions from local hotels. There are hundreds of small hotels and for a while no one knew of our hotel.  Finally one guy got on the phone and called my hotel. He got off the phone and gave me a couple of left, right, left directions and said that the hotel owner would be waiting for me at the mosque. I did not see a mosque, I was concentrating on not hitting anyone or thing, but we did finally pick up signs for our hotel and arrived before dark. The owner's wife graciously gave us cold water from the refrigerator in the office (we are probably not the only travelers arriving parched); her husband followed us into the reception area shortly thereafter, and wanted to know why we had not met him at the mosque. I parked the car on a ridiculously steep incline and we moved into our "cave". The hotel and its rooms really were hollowed out of the inside of one the weird rock formations. The temperature was cool and we even had one window. We went up to the roof-top seating area and looked down upon an older couple (even older than me) who were harvesting peppers from their garden, which was housed in scores of large metal cooking oil cans. No common language, but he tossed up several peppers for us to eat.

We walked part of the way down the hill until we found a restaurant we liked, Sultan. Outdoor dining under star lit skies and finally a temperature that humans could comfortably exist in.

IV. The Tour
I got lazy and signed up for a tour the next day. I did not have a good feel for the area of where we were supposed to go. The sights seemed spread out and I was tired of driving. So after a roof-top buffet breakfast of what was the usual suspects:  cukes, tomatoes, hard boiled eggs, bread and lots of spreads, lots of cheeses and meats, watermelon, a potato dish cooked by the owner, a cooked egg dish and best of all, unlimited cold liquids, we were on the bus at 9:30. Lots of East Asians on the tour and contrary to advertising claims, way more than the promised maximum of 10 on the tour. After a stop at a viewpoint overlooking the valley, we took off for a lengthy ride to one of the many underground cites, Derinkuyu, in the area. This one went down 55 meters and 8 levels. It had a very large number of spacious rooms; pregnant women got their own area close to the bathrooms; and lots of connecting tunnels. Problem was that it seemed like all the tours came at the same time in the morning, so it was crowded. These underground cites were used by residents, many early Christians when they were persecuted, or later during war or other threatening events.

Then we went to a large monastery, Selime. One of the strange things about Turkey is that many of its antiquities are Christian in nature. Christianity spread here very early and although the Roman emperors attempted to stamp it out for about 3 centuries, when the empire recognized it under Constantine early in the 4th century, he moved the capital to what was ultimately called Constantinople and Asia Minor became a Christian strong hold.  The Eastern Roman Empire evolved into the Byzantine Empire and acted as a Christian bulwark against Islam expansion out of the Middle East. However, ultimately the Byzantines were pushed back by various Central Asian tribes, most notably the Seljuks and ultimately destroyed by the Ottomans, who imposed Islam by persuasion. They also converted many churches to mosques. If you wanted a job or wanted to avoid the non-Muslim tax, you converted. So now Turkey is an overwhelmingly Islamic nation with a very large number of Christian antiquities.

After that we were taken to lunch. We ate with a young, newly married couple. He is an Egyptian who attended medical school in Germany and is now a resident there. She grew up in Eastern Turkey and now lives in Istanbul. She wore a head scarf and was dressed in modest, but not black, clothes. Our guess was that it was an arranged marriage, but they seemed very fond of each other. She was very outspoken about the Kurds and their "racist" political party [just as racist as the ultra nationalists about whom they complain], which in her mind was just advancing the interests of its leaders and drug smugglers, and not acting in the best interests of the Kurds or Turkey. She predicted that a coalition government would not be able to be formed and that President Erdogan, who inspires very strong emotions across Turkey, would call a new election after 45 days and that his AKP party would be returned to full power.

In the afternoon, we took off for the Ihlara Valley. This took us through a beautiful valley alongside a creek and through many Christian churches that had been built into the cliffs. We stopped at a tea house for a snack that was built over the creek. We finished up with a drive through Pigeon Valley. [In the very old days Christians kept them for food and communication. There were lots of pigeon houses carved into the rocks. More recently the residents kept them to use their droppings as fertilizer.] Then, a few more panoramic views of the valley and the inevitable visit to a jewelry factory and shop. It was a full day and we just ate snacks and drinks from the roof-top restaurant for dinner.

V. The Hikes

The next day we went out on our own to hike in Gorkundere ("Love") Valley where the morning sun's rays highlighted the rock formations. There we found many strange looking rock formations, many of which looked like very erect penises. Spoke for a bit with some young Danish hikers who were impressed by the fact that we had been in Copenhagen in the winter. We passed through what I thought was a melon field and after one broke off, I carried it back thinking I could have it for breakfast. Alas, it was an unripe pumpkin.

We had a light lunch at a cafe in Cavusin and then went to the Open Air Museum. This is a Unesco World Heritage site. Initially this was a site where Christians hid from the Romans, then a Byzantine monastic settlement, and later a pilgrimage site. It is a big complex of rock cut churches, monasteries and chapels. Many are fresco filled. One had an exhibit of work by a local photographer who died in an auto accident.  Also hiked down to the 10th century Tokali Kilise, the area's biggest church.

We ate dinner outdoors at a nice restaurant on the other side of the valley. I had a lamb stew that was cooked in a clay pot and cracked open at our table. A bit of Benihana in Turkey and the end of our hard rock experience.