Istanbul not Constantinople

 Thursday 19/Friday 20 September

The title of this instalment? It's a song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wcze7EGorOk

Despite barking stray dogs, police sirens and traffic, I sleep well, pack up and after the usual hotel buffet breakfast we load up the bus for the last time and Mustafa squeezes through the Ankara rush hour to get us to our last cultural port of call, the tomb of Ataturk. 

The rather magnificent Greek-temple style mausoleum was completed in 1953 to house the great leader's granite sarcophagus, though he had actually died in 1938 from cirrohsis of the liver and general wear and tear at the age of just 57. In 1944 the government had instigated a competition to design it, having decided that his resting place in a museum was unfit for the man who wrested Turkiye from the Ottoman Empire and its Sultan rulers, and brought it into the 20th century. It's set in Peace Park and heavily guarded by the military, so much so that because there was going to be a visiting dignitary that day, we weren't allowed in after all so had to make do with standing on the adjacent street and photographing it from a considerable distance as you can see above. 

Ataturk is a massive hero for Turks, and especially our guide who was able to talk about him at length. She's especially drawn to him because without his doing away with the old religious laws and bringing about a secular and more equal society back in 1923 after the post-WW1 war of independence which began in 1918, her life as a Muslim woman (a bad Muslim, by her own admission) would have been very different. Gocke majored in history and like most guides underwent considerable training, so throughout the trip she's given us all kinds of historical and ancient mythical background info plus insights into Turkish life and traditions, from male circumcision rituals to engagement protocols and old wives' tales. She's revelled in being the centre of our attention, but she's been good fun and has never shyed away from dealing with challenges.

So we have no option but to get back on the bus and head to Istanbul. After a few pit stops, we arrive back in the city and have a very early dinner at a lovely restaurant beneath the Galata Bridge with a view of the Bosphorus. Dinner is rather bland and disappointing sadly, but we do have cake to celebrate Millie's 70th birthday which falls the following day when she'll be on her way home to Florida. (We were never quite sure whether her name was Millie or Minnie, or even possibly Ginnie - Puerto Rican by birth, Noo Yoik by upbringing and a widow, she was on the tour with her brother Rafael, nice enough wise-cracking guy with a permatan and way-too-white teeth but with a rather creepy penchant for Columbian girlfriends half his age, of which his sister does not approve. Thankfully neither of them were Trump supporters so we could be rude about him.)

We're taken back to the Crowne Plaza and it all goes a bit flat. Dee and I have been upgraded (allegedly) but I still overlook the main shopping street and it's only after we venture out for a stroll that we realise we're just slap bang in the middle of the clothing/textile wholesale and retail business district (a bit like round the back of Oxford Street, but much denser) and there's no bars to be had for a quick drink beyond the horribly expensive hotels. By this time gippy tummy has begun for me so an early night is called for.

After filling up on breakfast (which I'm afraid doesn't stay put for long - I'll spare you the details), Dee and I head off to the Grand Bazaar which is about 15 minutes walk away. To our surprise, much of it's like an indoor mall with lots of little shop units rather than market stalls (though there are more of these on the outer perimeter, and it's one of those places where everyone is selling the same stuff, much of it knock-off brand copies and you just need to haggle on getting the best price. I may well have slipped up by purchasing some Chanel perfume based on the tester which could have been genuine and even after quite some time still smelt authentic, but I'll have to wait and see if I have a bargain or a dud. It was about a fifth of the UK price, so maybe the fragrance will only last a fifth of the time on the skin...

                                                            

We sit in Beyazit Square near the university and the mosque of the same name with a tea and watch a cat with her kittens feasting on raw meat delivered by and elderly man with a bucketful of scraps. Everywhere you go, you see little piles of dried cat food left out for the generally healthy-looking strays (I had a cuddle with a kitten in Cappadoccia who judging by her stitches had evidently just been chipped and neutered.)

  

On our return to the hotel, we have a late check-in so we enjoy a free swim and a sauna - unfortunately the steam room is being retiled. (And yes I know my legs are very white - this hasn't been a sunbathing holiday and on my return I may well look exactly the same as when I left.) I then pay a Hammam massage -got to be done - which is one of the most toe-curling yet also wonderful experiences ever. Lying on a large slab butt naked and being scrubbed with a loofah isn't very comfortable, but the healing foam and massage (especially the scalp part) is rather lovely even though the amount of water chucked over me at the end feels just a wee bit like I'm being waterboarded. However, I have never ever felt so clean, soft and glowing in my life, and I float back up to my room in my fluffy white hotel robe.

The sense of relaxation is relatively short-lived though as we have an ever so slightly stressful transfer to our accommodation for our last few days. We approach the doormen with a request to order us a taksi and there is considerable confusion at the address and much toing and froing and checking of it. (It's not that far away - we could actually have walked it in less than 20 minutes were it not for a very steep hill and cobbles to negotiate). The roadworks outside the hotel which have closed the street are also a problem, so eventually porter Alattin takes us down to the main road and across the street to await a yellow cab, which takes much longer than promised and then contains a driver who also does much head-scratching and phone searching to suss out the address. 

He sets off at high speed through the narrow streets (how he doesn't take off several wing mirrors on his way is quite remarkable) and attempts to dump us off on a corner where there's no sign of the hotel. A helpful shopkeeper points him in the right direction which is close by, but he still has to drop us off at the end of a narrow pedestrianised street. As he unloads the car and I fumble for cash, he is hemmed in by helpful drivers front and back and there is much shouting and tooting. We head down the street with its welcoming red carpet (well, it's kind of netting), walk past the hotel (that's a bit of a grand name for it!) and then more helpful strangers point us back to where we need to be.

We receive a warm welcome, and an apple tea as our room is still being cleaned. This building has been decorated to look as old Ottoman as possible, a lift lined in black leather tiles, studs painted on the walls, antiqued taps and door handles, and patterns picked out on ceiling roses and architraves in gold paint. Unfortunately, it's all gone a bit to seed and it's looking rather shabby - clean, but down at heel. Our promised balconies can barely fit a a chair on them, Dee's door won't unlock and mine has no key to lock it,  and this is the view, which would be perfect if I were a pigeon fancier:

We have a small kitchenette and up a few flights of stairs (although to be fair the lift goes up there too), there is a roof terrace which boasts an overflowing ashtray, some worse for wear leather dining chairs, an abandoned bar and general detritus. Not a deckchair or sun bed to be seen, but there are a lot of seagulls - note to self - do not eat up here. The view one way is similar to the above, the other way is a fairly spectacular one across the Bosphorus. We have a sit and a read for an hour or so anyway to catch a few rays, then get changed and go out to find a recommended restaurant.

It's an interesting walk - this is Kumkape in the old city, much more of a neighbourhood though of course we aren't the only tourists, and our room is one of several spread across two buildings with busy restaurants on the ground floor and an entire family involved in the business. We have to run the gauntlet of nice young men with menus trying to entice us in to eat at regular intervals down every street - any ideas about not eating in restaurants that have photos of their food outside are completely redundant here if you want to eat at all! We find the resataurant after a little help from a nice man wielding a hose on his plants, and it's pleasant and welcoming and I have moussaka - a massive tasty portion of savoury mince served with rice and chips of course and is nearly twice the size of what I can actually eat. The wine is reasonable and the cats are cute though:

We wander back, manage not to get lost and find that the area around us has really come alive, with little live bands serenading tables with lively Turkish music at every restaurant. Ours has a quartet of accordion, zither-like and tambor-like things, plus a tambourine which serves as a tips hat. The guys are friendly and fun and they sit with us to play for a while, which we really enjoy, along with the rake which we try for the first time and yes it's just like ouzo or pastis and we do need to water it down, but after a while it's really quite pleasant. A sense of bonhomie pervades as we watch young women stand up and dance along to the musicians too - all jolly good fun before bedtime!

Onwards to Ankara

 Wednesday 18 September

Our penultimate day starts with another early rising to catch the balloon flights, though there aren't as many today and I think they must have gone up earlier as a couple are already landing as we view from the terrace. 

At breakfast we discover that one of our group, Harry, a lovely young Australian who's on a bit of a world tour, went out for a hike on our return yesterday afternoon, and tripped and fell down a 15m gully about 4km from the hotel. We hadn't seen him at dinner but he wasn't the only one missing and nobody realised that he'd gone out alone. Thankfully people nearby heard his cries for help (his phone had no signal), and the police came and threw down a rope. How he escaped without breaking any of his limbs is a miracle - just a few bumps and scrapes, and he said that the police were concerned only for his welfare and not at all annoyed!

Our first stop today is a pottery where we watch some of the "masters" at work, and the work is truly beautiful. Despite a hefty discount, as with the leather manufacturers the prices reflect the quality and work involved and so I buy only a pretty little oblong dish in which I shall serve elegant snacks like olives. Unfortunately, photography is only allowed when we watch the potter at work as he demonstrates how to make a perfect hollow decanter, so I can't show the finished article as it has about 50 layers of bubble wrap around it for safe transit home.

 


We move on to the Ozkonak underground city, dating back to the first century, where again the Christians sought a solution to protect themselves from Pagan attacks that was even more elaborate than caves. Modelled on similar cities hollowed out by the Hitites something like 4000BC, this ingenious subterranean structure is on 3 levels (livestock lived on the top level) and millstones were in place to be rolled across Raiders of the Lost Ark style to block the entrances if under threat.  

A lengthy drive to the Tuz Golu salt lake which is 80 x 50km and a bit like the tide has gone out and left all the salt behind. About 70% of Turkiye's table salt is harvested there during the summer months. It's a massive tourist attraction with a very basic and chaotic cafeteria and more retail opportunities. I try out and buy some exfoliating salt product and we take a quick turn on the salt flats as the lunch melee has taken up rather too much time, with the best bit being nar suyu, freshly-squeezed pomegranate juice.

We then set off for the capital, Ankara, (named after the Angora goat) and with a population of 5 million. Mustafa Ataturk made it the capital as Istanbul was the capital of the old defeated Ottoman Empire, and following the war of indepence which saw Turkiye become a republic in 1923 he wished to emphasise the changes that brought about. Being inland it's also less vulnerable to attack - had the Allied forces not been routed at Gallipoli, they would have reached Istanbul and the Bosphorus would have given access to central Europe. Our guide is keen to point out that Turks consider themselves to be eastern Mediterranean, not Middle Eastern. 

Ankara is bustling and (at least where we end up) very modern. We check into our very modern hotel and then go for a wander around the neighbourhood (an interesting array of shops, including a whole street with nothing but little flower shop units, and another with nothing but cafes, several of which feature moustachioed gents playing cards and drinking tea. I get some Turkish Lira out of an ATM for guide and driver tips, having found one after several tries that charges no commission fees (one was 9.9%!) We enjoy an apple tea in a pleasant park opposite the hotel, then go back for a sort-out and dinner. 

It's better quality than the last place, but I'm still feeling buffeted out and pick at food without my usual enthusiasm. There is some nice and reasonably-priced wine though, and a bar attached to the hotel where there's a live band doing jazzy cover arrangements of English-speaking artists from Amy Winehouse to Stevie Wonder - they're very entertaining with a bubbly and rather good lead singer, and seven out of our group of ten stick around to enjoy the music. Tomorrow we head back to Istanbul, the final day of the tour. 

A lot of hot air

 Tuesday 17 September

I haul myself out of bed at 6.30am and look out of the window - yes, the balloons have gone up (they're often cancelled at the last minute), so I throw on some clothes, grap my phone and make my way up to the highest roof terrace to gaze at this beautiful, peaceful sight as about 50 hot air ballons take flight, probably about 1km away. I manage to get a few pictures though there are some houses and rocks spoiling the view, but it was well worth getting up for.

After breakfast, the usual random assortment of buffet dishes (although I like the hotel, the food is dreadful and it feels like a canteen, not a dining room), we head off in the bus to take a closer look at the landscape, which currently has UNESCO status but is likely to lose it due to excessive and unbridled commercial activity - everywhere we went, bar one viewpoint where the shops had been deliberately knocked down in an attempt to abate the spread of trade, presented a retail opportunity and as always our small coach was dwarfed by the big buses packed with tourists from all over the world, but especially the Far East. 

These lunar-like canyons formed of frozen ash and basalt were forged by ancient volcanic activity (there are no active volcanoes in Turkiye now) and it's very dramatic - not quite on the scale of the Grand Canyon, but awe-inspiring just the same. We have a photo opportunity at Pigeon Valley and there are as you might expect pigeon-holes there where birds nested and their guano was collected. We pass through the Goreme Valley peaks and return there later for the Christian churches carved into the valley.

People also lived in caves cut into the limestone, and nowadays there are hotels and houses continuing that tradition.  Christianity was brought to Cappadoccia by Paul and Barnabas, but the early Christians weren't tolerated by the Pagans (though peacefully co-esisted with the Turks at a later date), so they lived in caves to protect themselves from attack and even created underground cities to protect themselves from attack (more of that tomorrow). These caves and houses have a constant year-round temperature of 18C, so they knew what they were doing.

However, before the jaw-dropping archaeological stuff, we have the inevitable visit to a leather showroom, though I have to say that this was one with a difference. We were treated to a little fashion show before the hard sell, where we saw the showroom models strutting their stuff  (along with some of our tour group roped in to shimmy down the catwalk) to demonstrate how supple and versatile this lambskin leather is. Most of the jackets are reversible - because they're so thin this works brilliantly, and the leather is amazingly strong and crease-resistant. I almost succumb to a racy red number which is a last chance to buy and mine for £378 after discounts - but I come to my senses, recalling my very well-stocked wardrobe, and politely refuse. A couple of our party do purchase, so we don't totally disgrace ourselves. No photos allowed here.

After yet another inclusive but repetitive buffet lunch, we head to the Goreme Vally Open Air Museum and take a look at the Christian churches built into the rocks dating back to the 13th century, with their partially preserved frescoes in iconoclastic style (no pics allowed - but why are so many faces scored out? We think vandalism that they've not afforded to renovate, or the Pagans got to them eventually). A visit to the gift shop and a goat's milk ice cream rounds off the visit (though I also think it caused me an upset stomach later) and we head back to the hotel on the bus.

Unusually, we're back well before dinner so Dee and I take a dip in the pool and it's a case of once you're over the shock of the cold it's really quite pleasant, and we feel we've actually done something more active than sitting on a coach or strolling through an archaeological site. Yet anothe dismal buffet dinner and we retire early as I'm not feeling too great - think the buffets have finally got to me...

It's a long way to Cappadoccia

Monday 16 September 

Today was very long. Although our coach is comfortable, with good aircon and WiFi, and even though we make frequent stops, our 700km journey today from Pamakkale to Cappadoccia begins at 7am and ends 13 hours later (though we did stop off in Konya for lunch and the Mevalana Museum and at Sulthani Caravanserai, one of the camel hotels on the silk road).

Wrenching myself out of my lovely comfy bed at 5am, after breakfast we gather in the lobby to board the coach and are treated to the sight of many hot air balloons on the horizon gently drifting into the distance. I think everyone fell asleep until we made an early stop of diesel and loos - petrol is dead cheap here, about £1 per litre. People smoke with impunity at petrol stations, and not that far away from the pumps!

The second pitstop is at a big souvenir emporium, packed with local stuff like tea, rose oil and hone, but also a fair bit of knock-off replica stuff. Although our party wasn't impressed, the coachloads of Chinese tourists kept the traders busy. I made a tentative enquiry about some shoes which were similar to some favourites of mine, only to discover that apart from the fact he wanted dollars, I'd be paying at least £15 more for them.

We drive on into the Central region of Anatolia, with a distinct change of landscape as arable farming is key here, and with Stone Age/Neandertal origins. We arrive in Konya for a late lunch - it's bigger than Istanbul in terms of area, but with only a sixth of the population. Just for once the restaurant offer is not a buffet, and I have a very nice chicken kebab (my first of the trip!) 

We walk to the Mevalna Museum around the corner, which honours the Sufi faith and the cult of the Whirling Dervish. It's rather a lovely museum, with some interesting sarcophagi, some contemporary copper plate relief pictures around the courtyard with small rooms showcasing historic objects, but with really horrible toilets.

On to the camel hotel (Sulthani Caravenserai) which is another lovely building that was a stopover for merchants and their camels. There's also an exhibition of antique carpets (along with a trio of ladies demonstrating their craft, but not selling anything). Apparently camel wrestling festivals are a very popular family day out, where camels basically use their necks to wrestle the opponents' heads as near to the ground as possible. And camels can travel up to 200km in a day, but their riders can only realistically manage 100km, hence the hotels along the silk road route.

After what feels like the longest drive ever, though is really only just over a couple of hours, Mustafa belts along in the gathering darkness until we arrive at our hotel which is built in traditional kind of quadrangle style with lots of terraces, thick stuccoed walls and antique- looking fittings. My room is a bit gloomy but comfortable with rather lovely dark wood carved doors and bedhead. We dump bags and head for the dining room which is huge, crowded, noisy and with the typical buffet selection. It felt like school dinners. Mustn't grumble as much of this is all-inclusive, but getting a bit fed up with the same old same old. But they do have wine, and we've also been given a half bottle as an apology for our room cock-up at the beginning of the holiday. 

Two of our party have a very early night as tomorrow they're taking the hot air balloon trip, and I set my alarm to get up at 6.30 to watch the spectacle in the sky. At least I won't be back on the bus until 9.30

Escape to Ephasus

 Sunday 15 September

Another early start and we're on the bus to Ephesus at 8am. Once the capital of Asia Minor, during the 2nd and 3rd centuries it had a population of around 250,000 and was the 4th largest city in the world. As with Troy, its location shifted owing to the harbour silting up so that it became an inland city, and gradually it depopulated until it was finally abandoned in the 14th century. 

Discovered by a British engineer, Ephesus was excavated by Austrians who are still at it - it's estimated that only 20% of it has actually been uncovered, and the renovations are quite remarkable, with baths (always sited near to the gates of a city so that weary travellers could freshen up on entry), a latrine (men taking a dump communally - can't see the attraction myself), a gymnasium (school) , brothel, a clearly defined main street, theatres (natch) and a magnificent library. And who knew - the phrase life begins at forty comes from the age at which a torch guardian retired. The sole duty of these guardians was to guard a flaming torch at the entrance to the city which indicated whether or not it was safe to enter (so plague-free for example), and they were forced to retire at forty, so....

 

Of all the ruins (and I'm seeing quite a few), it's by far the most impressive and it makes me realise how Rome, Greece and Turkey overlap. 

We then move on to Turkmen weavers, a carpet co-operative where we watch these amazingly skilled women double knotting away to create the most beautiful wool, silk and cotton carpets. These can take from 8 to 15 months to create, and a government scheme to recruit home workers to perpetuate these unique skills means that now 2800 women are employed in the showroom and in villages. Tax advantages from local government to encourage compeititive pricing stimulates the tourist trade and yes, fortified by complimentary apple tea and wine, this tourist has ordered this beautiful silk and cotton number to be reduced in size for a little bedside mat at great expense - it's an investment piece I'm told, and it will arrive by Christmas - without the fringing. Never has an impulse purchase cost me so dear and I probably should have haggled but it's not a bazaar and when you see these people at work with their dexterity and dedication... 

We have lunch at the weavers and then head off for a long drive to Pamukkale, turning further inland to an area that's becoming increasingly arid and mountainous. We arrive at the lunar-ish landscape formed by calcium deposits and thermal pools at Herapolis, which also boasts more ruins and a museum containing very fine recovered sarcophagi and stautes. 

After a paddle, we have a good walk around to get the step count up before heading for our spa hotel which is new and very tastefully done - enormous room all for me

and we manage to have a lovely relaxing dip in the thermal pool (which is enhanced by a distant call to prayer which I always find rather beautiful) before a decent dinner and a nice bottle of local white wine at a reasonable price. Yet another buffet though - not much chance of anything more imaginative in these massive tourist hotels, but we fill our plates anyway! Sadly our start is even earlier on Monday (which is going to be a very loooong journey to Capadoccia) so we don't get to repeat the spa experience, which was considerably less crowded than my last time which was in Bath, funnily enough.