Cappadocia and Goreme, Turkey

Fairy Chimney rock formation.

      I could not stop thinking about a place my friend Adam had told me about. “Bri, make sure you make it to Cappadocia. You should really plan on going there.” Being the procrastinator that I am, I had not followed his advice. Seeing a picture of the unique rock formations convinced me that I had to go. My every thought became engulfed with thoughts of visiting Cappadocia. I had to be there before I left Turkey. Now that I decided to go, I had to convince my traveling companions. My obsession with rocks and geology alloted me a thousand reasons to go here.

     Unfortunately, neither of them felt quite the same. “Bri, I mean, it would be cool, but I could live without seeing it. I really don’t want to spend more money traveling across the country. And we already paid for our hotel.” And my exasperated response “What? When are we ever going to go here again, this is so cool!” And my incessant begging began. I could not give up on my newfound passion-Cappadocia. 

     Even the name was magical. It became a land of whimsical beauty. I tirelessly researched transportation. Last minute flights were too expensive, there was not a train path yet, but there were buses. Now, I usually don’t take buses in the United States. They’re full of uncomfortable situations. However, numerous locals assured us that the buses were very comfortable, very nice. My constant nagging and eventual plan to go alone convinced Rebecca to join me. She sighed, packed a small bag, and we set of for our journey that night. We would only have one day in Cappadocia before we needed to leave for Istanbul and our flight home. 

     I’m thrilled, finally complete now that my newest dream was becoming a reality. We leave our hotel, Rebecca finally becoming more excited that we’re actually going.  We bounded down the street, armed with the small amount of information the concierge could give us “Go to the end train stop. Then find a bus to take you to Cappadocia.” But I wasn’t worried; we’re resourceful and could find our way. Hopping on the train, we realize that we only have enough change for the first leg of the train journey. When we have to get off to switch trains, we search for an ATM. Usually there are many around, however, this time there weren’t any. After a foray into a hotel, where the metal detector alerted everyone to our entrance, and a venture down a dark alley, we discover a little bank with an ATM. Perfect. We thought that leaving at night would be great, we could sleep on the bus and arrive refreshed in Cappadocia. Except wandering around a city at night looking for an ATM doesn’t seem like the best plan in the evening.

     Armed with cash, we now have to break our large bills in order to pay the train fare. We stop in a restaurant and buy some oranges, eliciting laughter from the clerks who don’t understand why we’re in such hurry and only want to buy two oranges. Frantically paying, as we don’t know when the last bus leaves, we sprint to the train. Hopping on, we relax and wait for the last stop.

      Arriving at the end of the train line, we cautiously get off and attempt to get our bearings. Glancing around, we see buses three stories below our level. We walk down the damp, dark stairwell and wander around the buses. One portly Turkish man takes pity on us, and gestures upstairs. Apparently we went the wrong way. We clomp back upstairs in our shiny sandals, and look in the direction gestured to us. There’s a strip mall across the street. Except it’s a bus strip mall. All the glowing signs written in Turkish were advertising different bus lines. We sprint across the street and start bombarding the men with questions. Unfortunately, not one of them understands English, and we have absolutely no knowledge of Turkish besides no and thank you. We finally scuttle together a semblance of understanding, they hear Cappadocia, but say that Goreme and Nevsehir are the same thing. We shrugged, taking the advice of strangers has become routine. Especially since we have only a semblance of understanding. 

     Ticket in hand, we walk through the strip mall/store/ticket buying center and enter the bus depot. There are rows upon rows of buses, waiting to take people to many places throughout Turkey. We settle into our Van Galder like bus, and Rebecca abruptly decides to find a bathroom. Her pea-sized bladder is the beginning to many entertaining stories. As she leaves the bus, a teenage girl climbs aboard. She looks at me, looks at her ticket, sighs in annoyance and stomps off. Five men then join her and start talking to me in rapid-fire Turkish. “Umm…English?” I smile uncomfortably. They all laugh in unison and the girl shows me where our seats are. And so our trip begins.

     Rebecca returns and we settle into our real seats, taking note of the empty seats around us. We envision a row for each of us and a lovely night’s rest. The bus’ attendant hops aboard and we’re ready to go to Cappadocia! As the bus starts moving, Rebecca scoots to the seat in front of me, and we put in our headphones ready to drift asleep. I’m abruptly startled fifteen minutes later by our bus attendant, grunting and motioning for Rebecca to move back into her assigned seat. Grabbing her ticket, he forcefully points to the seat next to me, and grunts unintelligibly until she moves there. Garnering the attention of the entire bus, our laughter is greeted with annoyed looks. We clearly weren’t making any friends. Ipods back in, we closed our eyes.

     And were awakened again by families and children boarding the bus, filling in the empty seats. Okay, now we understand the emphasis on assigned seats. Hopefully that was the last stop. 

A music video abruptly turns on at full volume and the bus attendant, affectionately deemed "bus mom," storms by. He hands out cups to everyone, and just as quickly, rushes through the aisles, pouring water for tea and instant coffee. The bus mom had taken it upon himself to focus all of his attention on us after the seat mishap. Rebecca had taken a cup, but decided that caffeine would not be the best way to fall asleep. She politely refused the bus mom’s proffered hot water until he became visibly agitated. The grunting and mumbling began again, scrunching his face to epic proportions. After numerous exaggerated gestures and grunts, Rebecca finally gave up her cup to be filled. And just as quickly passed it off to someone else. As the bus mom came by to collect our cups, he seemed utterly confused as to where Rebecca’s had gone. Dismissing the issue, the music video was turned off as abruptly as it was turned on.  We finally settled in to sleep.

     And then the bus mom was next to us, grunting and motioning for Rebecca to hand over her iPod. Bemused, she handed it over. The attendant wandered down the aisle, jamming out to her music. We watched him for the next twenty minutes, unsure of what we were supposed to do. He eventually returned the iPod, and we saw that his taste revolved around the Beatles. It's interesting how music transcends language barriers. Laughing and earning more disgruntled glares from bus goers, we went back to our music and the elusive goal-sleep. 

     Elusive it was. The next thing I know, we’re being shaken awake and grunted at to get off the bus. But only us. Hours before we’re supposed to arrive in Cappadocia/Goreme/Nevsehir, we’re being told to get off the bus. Grabbing our totes, we’re hustled off of the bus and onto the side of the road. Our bus mom waves as the bus drives off. A man in the same uniform as our bus mom gestures for us to follow him. At this point, we have no other choice but to trust him. Slightly panicked but again relying on the kindness of strangers, we follow him through a maze of obstacles. Across a parking lot, through a building, down an escalator, our final destination is a train station. Apparently, we’re in a bus depot in Ankara.

     Our guide leaves us by more of the glowing bus signs and disappears. And we’re left to figure out how to get to our destination. Pieced together through hand gestures and written numbers, we buy tickets to Goreme. Unfortunately, our bus doesn’t leave for hours. This cuts into our time in Cappadocia. But we’ve come this far, and I am not one to give up on an ambition. We lounge in uncomfortable plastic seats until it’s time for our bus to leave. We find our new bus, and are pleasantly surprised by the televisions built into the back of every seat. But we still don’t understand much Turkish, especially rapid-fire abnter. We embark on the last leg of our journey, and I’m so excited to get to Cappadocia. 

Outside of Goreme's open air museum.

     This part of the bus takes longer than expected, taking numerous stops in neighboring cities. We finally make it to Goreme, and it’s beautiful. Unfortunately, we only have four and a half hours to experience this whimsical city. We stumble off of the bus, exhausted from an erratic sleep pattern, but ready to make the most of the next few hours. The first thing we saw was a sandwich board for a travel agency offering free maps. We walk in, and the owner was more than friendly. He could not believe that we had traveled twelve hours on a bus to spend four and a half visiting his city. He spent the next twenty minutes discussing our different options for the day, and trying to convince us to stay longer. I wish we could have stayed, there was so much we didn’t get to see. Armed with a game plan, we set off for a walk down Pigeon Trail, viewing the awe-inspiring fairy chimneys.

     Fairy chimneys are an amazing geologic formation. They are immense, thin spirals of rock formed at the bottom of an arid drainage basin. They are soft easily molded sedimentary rock that is covered by a stronger stone that holds the shape. I was enthralled. There are houses, hotels, even a castle carved out of this stone. The geologic formations in this region are beautiful. 

Becca and I on top of Uchisar Hill and Castle, overlooking Cappadocia.

     We toured a bit by foot, and then stopped back by the travel agency. The owner insisted on helping us for the remainder of our time. He drove us to the outdoor museum, because he didn’t want us to miss seeing the paintings within the churches.  Goreme was gorgeous, and I don’t regret a minute of the twelve hour bus ride there. The twelve hour bus ride back was however, a struggle. Exhausted and dirty from spending the day trekking around, we clambered aboard the bus, an hour and a half after the scheduled departure time. I forgot-Turkish time. 

Istanbul, Turkey

Becca and I next to the Bosphorus Strait.

     After dropping off our heavy suitcases, Becca and I were ready to explore our new home-Sultanahmet Square. The cobbled streets curved around in a haphazard pattern, and there were hills around every corner. As we set off up, down, and around, we stumbled across a tiny restaurant emitting a delicious aroma. After satisfying our craving for Turkish flavors, we set off under a gate and through a carefully cultivated garden. 

     Arriving at the other side of the park, we found ourselves within a area thriving with restaurants and shops. We walked for hours, exploring the waterway and chatting with others that were enjoying the day. Returning to our familiar surroundings, we stopped at a bakery with brightly colored delicacies. Perusing the sweets, we made our selections, joking with the charismatic chef. We left the shop satisfied with our decisions, but didn't make it further than a few steps before we were stopped. The enthusiastic chef had chased us down the sidewalk and tugged us back into his restaurant. Plying us with tea and more sweets, he regaled us with stories and questioned us about our lives. He insisted upon showing us around his business and even let us help bake! Many laughs and a few pictures later, we went home amidst promises to return soon. 

Interior of the Hagia Sophia.

The next day we set off bright and early, thanks to Becca and her endless morning energy. (I suppose it evens out when I keep us out until late evening.) First on our list was the Hagia Sophia. This inspiring structure was first built as a cathedral, converted into a mosque, and is now preserved as a museum. The architecture was stunning, and we spent a large part of our morning exploring the intricate details of this museum.

Sultan Ahmed Mosque.

     We turned around and set off for the Sultan Ahmed Mosque, commonly called the Blue Mosque. There were two entrances, one in the front for Muslims coming to pray, and one around back, for visitors coming to appreciate the beauty. We headed around back and were given a plastic bag for our shoes, and Becca was given a  piece of cloth, as her shoulders were not properly covered. 

Chandelier within the Blue Mosque.

     The interior of the mosque was stunning. Called the "Blue Mosque" for its signature blue tiles, the colors were illuminated by an enormous chandelier hung from the ceiling. For as many mosques as we've seen, I never tire of their exquisite elegance. We then decided to explore the famous Grand Bazaar. 

Glass, clay and cement wall.

     On our way to the Bazaar, we passed a fascinating wall. It was made of pottery and glass shards, blended together to form an eye-catching piece of artwork. Plants grew over the top of the wall, forming a striking contrast that I wanted to recreate myself. We wandered around, asking for directions, until we made it to the Bazaar. Walking into the covered market, I was surprised at how organized and new everything looked. Knock-off bags, chintzy souvenirs, and shiny gold jewelry greeted us at every turn. Initially, I was disappointed with the amount of goods offered, everything began to look the same. But then we stepped outside into the uncovered market and found where the locals bargain. There were more streets than we could even begin to explore. Copper pots and pans, plastic beads, and designer perfume lined one row, while turning the corner led to garden seeds, silk scarves, and t-shirts. Pushing through the throngs of people took its toll on our energy level, so we tucked our bargained purchases into our bags, and set off for the hotel. 

     Luckily, Becca and I have a sense of adventure, because our return trip took about four hours. We set off in the wrong direction, trekking through the neighborhoods of Istanbul, in search of Sultanahmet Square. We climbed stone stairs, bonded with children (at least Becca did) and finally ended up back along the Bosphorus. Re-routing ourselves, we made it back to our hotel. 

The interior of Topkapi Palace.

     The next day, we set out for Topkapi Palace. The Ottoman Sultans lived and ruled from these enormous grounds for about four hundred years. There were fantastic examples of Ottoman era architecture, along with wonderfully preserved jewelry, weapons, and artwork. We then decided to return to the Bazaar, but to the area we had missed before- Spice. As we wandered through the aisles of the Spice Bazaar, we were easily distracted by barrels of cardamom, dried apricots, and Turkish delights. Our favorite treat was sesame and honey covered peanuts.  As we walked amidst the calls of "where are you from? Brazil? France?" and "angels, please come back," we decided upon gifts and treats for those at home. Home was no longer a distant thought. However, there were still two days left, and I was ready to explore a new environment. 

Thessaloniki, Greece: The In-between

Burnt in our train compartment.

  
      Taking the metro to the train station, Becca and I said goodbye to Hashim, and bought overnight train tickets. Finding our train compartment however, proved to be more of an adventure. The entire Greek army was on our train. And they were all pushing past us, in the opposite direction. As we finally figured out what car we were in, we stumbled on the train, delirious from a sunburn and lack of sleep. It's a good thing that we aren't claustrophobic, because the foot of space allocated to sleep in was quite confining. After watching Sex and the City Two (bootlegged from Athens), we curled up in our tiny spaces, waking up occasionally to apply more aloe.

     We arrived in Thessaloniki at seven thirty am. Perfect timing. Our train from Thessaloniki was supposed to leave at eight am. And then our adventure began. While Andy had thought that the man had said eight am, he actually said eight pm. There we were in the train station, a suitcase and handbag apiece, with twelve hours for our train. Never ones to overlook a chance to explore, we locked up our suitcases and set off to explore this new city.

     While exploring, we decided to be practical as well. Internet was on our priority list, as we wanted to find a hotel in Istanbul before we arrived. Finding an internet connection, however, proved to be more difficult than we originally thought. Especially on a Sunday in Orthodox Greece. Fortunately, we're very determined. After a few awkward conversations, an espresso shop that claimed to have internet but only boasted a scantily clad barista with tables full of poicemen, and wandering around with my iPhone trying to find a wireless signal, we found it.

     The restaurant was not open (Sunday), but the owner was sitting outside and invited us to sit and use the internet. Thank goodness. We quickly found a hotel, and set off for a walk by the water. Two Ice cream treats and a funny picture of Becca on a kiddie train later ,  we were on our way back to the train station. As both of us are great with directions, it took considerably longer than we anticipated. We stumbled upon a fruit stand and picked up some dinner for later on the train. We waited a little bit longer (our patience improved immensely on this trip) and we boarded the train in dire need of some sleep. But sleep was not in the cards for us.

View of Turkish countryside from our train window.

We were abruptly woken up about 230am by a loud, booming PASSPOOOOORTS! Startled and fumbling for our glasses (at least I'm not alone in my blindness) we opened our door and handed them to the night guard. Fifteen minutes later, our door was pounded upon and our passports handed back.  Thinking the customs part of our trip was over, we snuggled back into our blankets. False. Another Turkish man came by, pounded on our door, and again demanded our passports. Okay. And then the same loud booming voice was ordering us outside. At four am? Luckily, Becca and I are cheery people. But this was pushing it a bit. We stumbled out of our cramped car in our pajamas, confused and unsure of what was going on. 

     We stood in line on the train tracks, shivering on the border of Greece and Turkey. One by one, we were escorted into a brightly lit hut and paid for our Turkish visas. Finally, we thought we were finished. Alas, we were again mistaken. Another man ambled by our compartments and pounded on the door, booming "CUSTOMS." After finding out that we're two young girls from America, he smiled and said "Good night." Pleased that our baggage was not going to be searched, a rigorous process but even more draining at five in the morning, we laid back down. And finally our passports were returned.

Sunflower fields in Turkey.

     Perhaps the overnight train was not our best choice, but it was definitely an adventure. Next time, we don't need to bother with the sleeper train, as we were up all night anyway. At least the cheery sunflowers brightened our day. Onto the bus portion of our trip. An estimated hour trip, ended up taking two, but we finally arrived. A hotel has never looked so good.

Poros Island, Greece

At a restaurant on Poros Island.

     Tan and pleased we are, at Poros Island. After we decided to explore some Greek islands, it was only a matter of choosing which island would fit in our schedule. As much as I wanted to explore Santorini with it's white homes and clear blue water, but alas, this was not in our time schedule or budget. We eventually settled upon Poros Island, a trip that required a few hours on a boat to get us there. 

     We woke up at Becca's peak morning hours, aka freakishly early, and set off for another adventure. Making our way to the coastline, we found many ferries and chose one that looked promising. As Hashim, Rebecca and I ascended the boat, we chattered about our excitement for tan lines. Two and a half hours, two small island stops, and a persistent sea gull later, we arrived at our destination. We then enjoyed a toasty day of sun and lemonade. Content with our sun kissed skin, we boarded the boat back to Athens and our next adventure- traveling from Athens, Greece to Istanbul, Turkey.

Sunset over the Mediterranean Sea.

Athens, Greece

On the streets of Athens.

     Arriving in Greece was a reunion with an old friend. Wine shops, girls in little summer dresses, and shoe stores galore. But before the shopping extravaganza could commence, we had to find our hotel. Conveniently, the metro was connected to the airport, so we hopped on, suitcases and all. What we didn't realize, however, was how quickly the train would fill up. Consequently, we were smashed against Greeks of all shapes and sizes. Quickly, we realized that switching train lines was going to be a feat of physical strength. Dragging our two months of clothing and gifts along, we huffed and puffed to downtown Athens. Realizing that we needed a cab to our final destination, we hopped in and were taken to our hotel. Or at least, the first hotel.

     Arriving at our hotel, we discovered that our attempt to save money meant shady/sketchy/leaving immediately. Grabbing our overstuffed bags and running, we caught another cab to the hotel our friend, Hashim, was staying at. Becca knew Hashim from her Persian class, and he decided to meet us for a few days in Greece. Unfortunately, he befell a bit of bad luck in Greece. His passport was stolen, and as he is a Pakistani citizen, it took a bit to receive a new one. Thus, he ended up spending most of his summer residing in a Greek hotel. 

     Arriving at the new hotel, we were relieved to find a clean, modern establishment. It was small, but the older couple that owned it were very friendly, albeit quite lazy. We tugged our suitcases up a few flights of stairs, then set off to explore the city of Athens.

Outside of hotel Athinaikon.

     Outside our hotel was a plethora of things to see, starting with the flower and plant store next door. There were flowers covering every spare inch of space, and it was delightful to see so much green around. Besides the more modern stores and architecture, Athens reminded us a lot of Jordan. A bit run down, but a lot of character. 

Taking a break from shopping and exploring.

     On Thursday morning, we set off in a search of real coffee, the weeks of Nescafe had us longing for the real thing. On our way, we stopped at a local street vendor for cinnamon raisin breakfast pastries. Becca and I said goodbye to Hashim, as he set off to the embassy for a new passport. We spent a few hours shopping and browsing Greek fashion. On this day, a pension bill was passed in Greece, reducing benefits and increasing the retirement age. This was an attempt to reduce their debt. There was a huge protest in front of the Parliament, so we rushed to get there, to be amidst the police officers on horseback and throngs of Greek activists. The twelve thousand protesters managed to shut down central Athens. It was a completely new city at night. The lights sparkled, and the city comes alive. Greeks have dinner very late at night, ten pm is the normal dining time. Tourists are the only ones seen in restaurants before then. Our explorations led us to some very interesting finds, including this artist's studio.

An artist's studio.

     There were many art galleries around Athens, and this one happened to be attached to the artist's studio. Below the gallery, through a little wooden opening, were stone steps leading to this creative environment. Half-finished paintings, oil paint, and a pottery fire showed us another side to Athens, the hidden artistic side. Along with this little gem, we managed to have dinner at the most delectable restaurant in Greece- Paradosiako. The hand-written menu and husband and wife duo made the most memorable restaurant experience in Greece. The Greek salad was fresh and tasty, as was the squid, octopus, and cod. Everything was plated and presented wonderfully as well. The other restaurants that we had been to comprised of tourist dishes and prices. This was local and deliciously authentic. One treat that we quickly became used to was the complimentary melon as a dessert. This sweet treat was always a refreshing way to end the evening. The next day began our historic part of our adventure.

The Erechtheum at the Acropolis.

     Our first stop Friday morning was to the Acropolis. The Parthenon is at the center. This area was full of tourists, and we only stayed long enough to take a few pictures and read the signs scattered about.

The Parthenon, at the center of the Acropolis.

     The view however, was stunning. Overlooking the city established a deep appreciation for where we were, and the significance of the area.

The view of Athens from the Acropolis.

     Our next stop was the Temple of Zeus, or what remained of it. The Statue of Zeus was located here, and was one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. We also stopped at the National Gardens. While the Gardens were pretty, the most striking aspect was the turtle pond. After experiencing much of Athens, I was ready for further our exploration. But which island to go to?

Temple of Zeus.