Buses, buses, and more fucking buses.

So I don't know what to write about first. I guess I will just go in order of events and then write the trouble of buses in-between.
So, Goreme (Gor-E-may) (which is the main city in Cappadocia - Cappadocia being a region rather than a city) turned out to be a beautiful. Robby and my pension was a room within a cave because Goreme is the Cave town. I truly believe that the creators of Smurfs and Flintstones came to Goreme some 45 years ago, looked around, got ideas and then designed their TV shows.
Goreme is a quaint town surrounded by 100's of miles of hiking trails through colorful canyons of gnome, Phalic, and mushroom looking pointed rocks. They sprang up due to volcanic activity in the region millions of years ago and have been defined and redefined by nature and the public ever since. Most of the Gnome ones were (and are) used as houses for numerous societies, hence the cave we were living in.
We arrived in Goreme at 6am and were shuttled to the Show String Pension. Since check in wasn't until 9 am I got the pleasure of attempting to sleep on a rather B.O. smelling blanket covered bench while Robby and the rest of the 10 tired souls that arrived with us read up on the local history of Goreme and some of the activities to do. Around 8 am Robby rudely awoke me and told me we were going on a journey to find Kristin (the girl we met on the Falucca in Egypt). We had scheduled to met her at Mt Nemrut, but our plans changes and she was in Goreme at the same time as us.
We found Kristin's hostels in no time, but there was no sign of Kristin, so we decided to have breakfast and wait a bit. We didn't have to wait long before she showed up and it was like being back in Egypt. We chatted, telling horror and funny stories before Michelle, a friend of Kristin's, showed up.
Once breakfast was over we headed to Pigeon Valley. We entered the canyon via a tree lined dirt road that opened onto white-brown gnome rocks that had holes and doors cut into them. Pigeon Valley got it's name from all the little square inlets in the gnome rocks that allow Pigeons to poop in. Every once and a while the poop is collected and used as ferterlizer. Gross, but effective and useful.
We walked for a few KMs in the lovely heat admiring all the unique rocks before coming to a town that was up a hill. Now, I used to think I was in shape, but I'm starting to think I was only in shape when I was 12. Going up the hill to the center of the town nearly killed me. I thought I would have a heart attack or something. Huffing and puffing at the top, I splurged on an expensive cold drink.
For some reason I was the deciding vote in climbing a massive rock that was littered with gnome houses so that we could take a picture of the valleys below. You could see for about 50 miles in any direction. I guess once I got my lungs back, it was a rather beautiful sight.
We scouted the next valley and trail that we wanted to take us back to Goreme and then hiked down the hill and down the mountain to relatively flat ground. Along the way we passed a backpacking group of 55+ year olds and I decided that I had no right to complain because if they could do I could do it. We got lost a bit, but eventually found the path to the White Valley.
Somehow our sense of direction sucked and we ended up sliding down parts of a large cliff face to get on the right trail. It was fun, but I would have liked to have shoes with better traction. Once we were on secure footing we managed to find a path that took us through a gorge and inside small cave tunnels. It was like walking through the King David water system again, but there was light every few feet. Nature always has a way of amazing and "awe-ing" oneself.
The White Valley is aptly named for the color of the rocks and cliffs. I think all the rocks were Limestone or just covered in a fine layer of white sand. Most of the surfaces were smooth and more phalic looking rocks reached towards the sky. We passed the mushroom that the giant worm (from Alice and Wonderland) sat on before coming to a paved road that took us back to Goreme. We spent the rest of the day exploring the small town, taking showers, and eating.
The next day we met Kristin at her hostel and headed to the Red and Rose Valleys. To get to the Red Valley we had to walk past the UFO museum (yeah, exactly) and then a valley of many small pumpkin patches. The Valley floor was littered with little green and yellow squashes. Two farming ladies tried to give us some, but we kindly refused. A KM later we made it to Red Valley which is more low key then Pigeon Valley with the gnome houses and consisting o red shaded hills.
We found a fairly large rock face covered in open doorways. The bottom housed a ancient church that had open graves across the entrance floor and a prayer/candle lighting section farther inside the cave. The upper floors of the cliff held small to medium rooms. Robby asked if Kristin and I were interested in renting. We said, "no".
Somehow we ended up climbing another massive hill that would not end going upwards. At least while I was contemplating a soon impending journey to heaven I got to look at lush foliage and small watering holes. Somewhere along the way the trail stopped at a store in the middle of nowhere and a church door. The Christian and Byzantine priests, back in the day, found solace in building their churches in the caves and gnome rocks, so the Valleys surrounding Goreme and other parts of Turkey are littered with 1000's of these small religious sites.
I plopped my ass down outside the church door and admired the Valley floor below. I could see the parts of the trail we hiked up and Goreme in the distance. Behind us there was Rose Valley and more hills. The guy who worked at the store was also the key holder to the Church door. He wanted a ridiculous amount of money to see the church, so we all opted to be content seating in front of the church.
Right when I was starting to feel sorry for the poor store owner, because how does he make a living when very few people venture this far into the mountains and the ones that do are most likely cheap bastards like us than free spending yuppies, when a tour group of money spending Italians showed up and bought 10 over priced cold drinks. When it started to feel too crowded at our rest stop we escaped in time before the 20 person tour group rounded the corner. I guess the store owner sees enough business to make the rent.
We hiked along a ridge that separated the Red Valley from the Rose Valley. The two Valleys were very similar in landscape, but the colors of the rocks were different shades of Red. Since it was another hot day we decided to cut our hike short and head back to town via the pumpkin patches.
The next day we paid to be "sheep" and hopped on boarded a pre-arranged tour. The tour bus was packed and I got the pleasure of being sandwiched between the driver and Robby. Lucky me. Ever since Israel buses have started to have a tendency for lolling me to sleep. I woke up 45 mins later to the driver laughing at me and asking if I had a nice nap. Grrrr. At least I don't snore.
We clamored out of the Van at 2nd largest of the 150 underground cities in the Cappadocia region. Apparently societies in the olden days were riddled with violent tendencies towards each other and this warranted the building of underground "safety" cities. When the bad guys got too close to the above ground cities the people would retreat into the ground. Just like the little cave dwellers of the prehistoric ages, these people built their caves to house 1000's, including farm animals.
The city we visited was 9 floors deep with 2 sheep and goat pens, a church with prison next to it (basically a connecting stalactite/stalagmite with chains on the ceiling to string up the bad guy in a "Y" stance) so all the church goers could scold the bad guy as they entered and exited prayer, numerous housing rooms, a large area for cooking including underground ovens, two large air vents, massive rocks to block the entrance to each new floor in case the enemy penetrated the city, and a school to teach the little ones.
Other than there being no sunlight, the cave dwelling was a cool place to live. I would have to get used to climbing up and down stairs all the time and maybe shrink in size since half the stairwells were 5 feet tall, but I think I could become an underground cave dweller for a bit. The temperature was a comfortable 65 degrees and the houses were quite roomy.
Next stop on the tour was our 3Km hike through a lush gorge. Since Robby, Kristin, and I were accustomed to walking through the Goreme Valleys at a leisurely pace it really sucked when we realized we were in a beautiful place and all we were going to see was the person in front of us' feet. The Tour women kept such a strict pace that we didn't have time to take a decent picture or even take in our surroundings. The trail was very rocky that if we didn't look down we were likely to fall.
The two bits of information that the Tour lady gave us about the trail were about as useful as the imitated one that one of the girls in the group did; "This is a tree. It breathes and grows." "This is a trail, you walk along it to get to a different place." The Tour lady was that good.
We stopped for a mini break along a muddy stream in the mist of dense foliage, so that we couldn't even get a great picture of the high cliff faces that boarded the gorge we were standing in. 10 minutes later we were hiking/walking again. We ended the hike at a very busy cafe along the muddy river for lunch. Some poor 15 year old that worked at the restaurant looked as though he was going to suffer a stroke any minute. His face was flushed and he was beyond stressed bring all 50 of us our soups. I don't think anyone would have cared too much if he took his time, but he continued to over strained himself bringing heavy trays of meat and vegetable dishes to the tables and briskly walking back to the kitchen for more. The youth in Turkey grow up fast.
After lunch was another power nap for me and a stop at an old Chruch. The Church looked more like a castle and had an indoor part that was used during the winter to stay warm and an outdoor part that was shaded during the summer. I didn't learn much else because the tour lady didn't say a lot and she gave us a whole 5 minutes to explore.
Next up, the Goreme Onyx factory. Yeap, every country that survives on Tourism loves to invite its tourist to view the makings of their wonders. We were all lead into the basement of the factory and privy to a private showing of a hard onyx block being magically turned into a smooth and shiny egg. Ohhhh, Ahhhhh, Snorrrre. Next was the "subtle" herd into the 5 beautiful onyx and other precious metals show rooms. After 5 minutes Robby, Kristin and I escaped to the ice cream stand across the street and waited not so patiently for the 15 moronic shoppers to exit the factory - we did not pay to shop. There were clearly more than just poor backpackers on our tour.
Eventually everyone exited the factory and we drove to the Fairy Chimney rocks or almost drove to the Fairy Chimney rocks. The van hit something in the road, a loud pop was heard, and 10 minutes later we were all walking our asses through the desert. At least the weather was a nice temperature since a storm looked to be brewing. It caused rays of sunlight to poke through the dark gray clouds and shroud the land in angelic light. Quite beautiful, except for the ugly orange color of the rays and the muddy gray of the clouds.
15 minutes later we rounded a corner to look down on the Fairy Chimney rocks. The rocks are basically phalic looking poles of limestone that shoot upwards and are toped with a small triangle looking stone at the top. Someone nicknamed the Valley the Valley of Penis'. We snapped pictures and waited around for the new Van to show up. So far I still have a high loathing for Tours, but half the places we went we couldn't' easily get to without a tour bus.
We made it back to Show String with enough time to grab our bags and head to the bus station to catch our 8:30pm bus to some small town to catch a night bus to Katha. The little bus that came was so packed that three unlucky souls had to sit on the floor near the door for the two hours to the bigger town. For our night bus to Katha we had to wait around the bus station for 2 hours (an hour after the departure time of the bus) frantically asking every bus that pulled up if they were the bus we needed since no one could tell us exactly were our bus was going to dock. So I don't know what to write about first. I guess I will just go in order of events and then write the trouble of buses in-between.
So, Goreme (Gor-E-may) (which is the main city in Cappadocia - Cappadocia being a region rather than a city) turned out to be a beautiful. Robby and my pension was a room within a cave because Goreme is the Cave town. I truly believe that the creators of Smurfs and Flintstones came to Goreme some 45 years ago, looked around, got ideas and then designed their TV shows.
Goreme is a quaint town surrounded by 100's of miles of hiking trails through colorful canyons of gnome, phalic, and mushroom looking pointed rocks. They sprang up due to volcanic activity in the region millions of years ago and have been defined and redefined by nature and the public ever since. Most of the Gnome ones were (and are) used as houses for numerous societies, hence the cave we were living in.
We arrived in Goreme at 6am and were shuttled to the Show String Pension. Since check in wasn't until 9 am I got the pleasure of attempting to sleep on a rather B.O. smelling blanket covered bench while Robby and the rest of the 10 tired souls that arrived with us read up on the local history of Goreme and some of the activities to do. Around 8 am Robby rudely awoke me and told me we were going on a journey to find Kristin (the girl we met on the Falucca in Egypt). We had scheduled to met her at Mt Nemrut, but our plans changes and she was in Goreme at the same time as us.
We found Kristin's hostels in no time, but there was no sign of Kristin, so we decided to have breakfast and wait a bit. We didn't have to wait long before she showed up and it was like being back in Egypt. We chatted, telling horror and funny stories before Michelle, a friend of Kristin's, showed up.
Once breakfast was over we headed to Pigeon Valley. We entered the canyon via a tree lined dirt road that opened onto white-brown gnome rocks that had holes and doors cut into them. Pigeon Valley got it's name from all the little square inlets in the gnome rocks that allow Pigeons to poop in. Every once and a while the poop is collected and used as ferterlizer. Gross, but effective and useful.
We walked for a few KMs in the lovely heat admiring all the unique rocks before coming to a town that was up a hill. Now, I used to think I was in shape, but I'm starting to think I was only in shape when I was 12. Going up the hill to the center of the town nearly killed me. I thought I would have a heart attack or something. Huffing and puffing at the top, I splurged on an expensive cold drink.
For some reason I was the deciding vote in climbing a massive rock that was littered with gnome houses so that we could take a picture of the valleys below. You could see for about 50 miles in any direction. I guess once I got my lungs back, it was a rather beautiful sight.
We scouted the next valley and trail that we wanted to take us back to Goreme and then hiked down the hill and down the mountain to relatively flat ground. Along the way we passed a backpacking group of 55+ year olds and I decided that I had no right to complain because if they could do I could do it. We got lost a bit, but eventually found the path to the White Valley.
Somehow our sense of direction sucked and we ended up sliding down parts of a large cliff face to get on the right trail. It was fun, but I would have liked to have shoes with better traction. Once we were on secure footing we managed to find a path that took us through a gorge and inside small cave tunnels. It was like walking through the King David water system again, but there was light every few feet. Nature always has a way of amazing and "awe-ing" oneself.
The White Valley is aptly named for the color of the rocks and cliffs. I think all the rocks were Limestone or just covered in a fine layer of white sand. Most of the surfaces were smooth and more phalic looking rocks reached towards the sky. We passed the mushroom that the giant worm (from Alice and Wonderland) sat on before coming to a paved road that took us back to Goreme. We spent the rest of the day exploring the small town, taking showers, and eating.
The next day we met Kristin at her hostel and headed to the Red and Rose Valleys. To get to the Red Valley we had to walk past the UFO museum (yeah, exactly) and then a valley of many small pumpkin patches. The Valley floor was littered with little green and yellow squashes. Two farming ladies tried to give us some, but we kindly refused. A KM later we made it to Red Valley which is more low key then Pigeon Valley with the gnome houses and consisting o red shaded hills.
We found a fairly large rock face covered in open doorways. The bottom housed a ancient church that had open graves across the entrance floor and a prayer/candle lighting section farther inside the cave. The upper floors of the cliff held small to medium rooms. Robby asked if Kristin and I were interested in renting. We said, "no".
Somehow we ended up climbing another massive hill that would not end going upwards. At least while I was contemplating a soon impending journey to heaven I got to look at lush foliage and small watering holes. Somewhere along the way the trail stopped at a store in the middle of nowhere and a church door. The Christian and Byzantine priests, back in the day, found solace in building their churches in the caves and gnome rocks, so the Valleys surrounding Goreme and other parts of Turkey are littered with 1000's of these small religious sites.
I plopped my ass down outside the church door and admired the Valley floor below. I could see the parts of the trail we hiked up and Goreme in the distance. Behind us there was Rose Valley and more hills. The guy who worked at the store was also the key holder to the Church door. He wanted a ridiculous amount of money to see the church, so we all opted to be content seating in front of the church.
Right when I was starting to feel sorry for the poor store owner, because how does he make a living when very few people venture this far into the mountains and the ones that do are most likely cheap bastards like us than free spending yuppies, when a tour group of money spending Italians showed up and bought 10 over priced cold drinks. When it started to feel too crowded at our rest stop we escaped in time before the 20 person tour group rounded the corner. I guess the store owner sees enough business to make the rent.
We hiked along a ridge that separated the Red Valley from the Rose Valley. The two Valleys were very similar in landscape, but the colors of the rocks were different shades of Red. Since it was another hot day we decided to cut our hike short and head back to town via the pumpkin patches.
The next day we paid to be "sheep" and hopped on boarded a pre-arranged tour. The tour bus was packed and I got the pleasure of being sandwiched between the driver and Robby. Lucky me. Ever since Israel buses have started to have a tendency for lolling me to sleep. I woke up 45 mins later to the driver laughing at me and asking if I had a nice nap. Grrrr. At least I don't snore.
We clamored out of the Van at 2nd largest of the 150 underground cities in the Cappadocia region. Apparently societies in the olden days were riddled with violent tendencies towards each other and this warranted the building of underground "safety" cities. When the bad guys got too close to the above ground cities the people would retreat into the ground. Just like the little cave dwellers of the prehistoric ages, these people built their caves to house 1000's, including farm animals.
The city we visited was 9 floors deep with 2 sheep and goat pens, a church with prison next to it (basically a connecting stalactite/stalagmite with chains on the ceiling to string up the bad guy in a "Y" stance) so all the church goers could scold the bad guy as they entered and exited prayer, numerous housing rooms, a large area for cooking including underground ovens, two large air vents, massive rocks to block the entrance to each new floor in case the enemy penetrated the city, and a school to teach the little ones.
Other than there being no sunlight, the cave dwelling was a cool place to live. I would have to get used to climbing up and down stairs all the time and maybe shrink in size since half the stairwells were 5 feet tall, but I think I could become an underground cave dweller for a bit. The temperature was a comfortable 65 degrees and the houses were quite roomy.
Next stop on the tour was our 3Km hike through a lush gorge. Since Robby, Kristin, and I were accustomed to walking through the Goreme Valleys at a leisurely pace it really sucked when we realized we were in a beautiful place and all we were going to see was the person in front of us' feet. The Tour women kept such a strict pace that we didn't have time to take a decent picture or even take in our surroundings. The trail was very rocky that if we didn't look down we were likely to fall.
The two bits of information that the Tour lady gave us about the trail were about as useful as the imitated one that one of the girls in the group did; "This is a tree. It breathes and grows." "This is a trail, you walk along it to get to a different place." The Tour lady was that good.
We stopped for a mini break along a muddy stream in the mist of dense foliage, so that we couldn't even get a great picture of the high cliff faces that boarded the gorge we were standing in. 10 minutes later we were hiking/walking again. We ended the hike at a very busy cafe along the muddy river for lunch. Some poor 15 year old that worked at the restaurant looked as though he was going to suffer a stroke any minute. His face was flushed and he was beyond stressed bring all 50 of us our soups. I don't think anyone would have cared too much if he took his time, but he continued to over strained himself bringing heavy trays of meat and vegetable dishes to the tables and briskly walking back to the kitchen for more. The youth in Turkey grow up fast.
After lunch was another power nap for me and a stop at an old Chruch. The Church looked more like a castle and had an indoor part that was used during the winter to stay warm and an outdoor part that was shaded during the summer. I didn't learn much else because the tour lady didn't say a lot and she gave us a whole 5 minutes to explore.
Next up, the Goreme Onyx factory. Yeap, every country that survives on Tourism loves to invite its tourist to view the makings of their wonders. We were all lead into the basement of the factory and privy to a private showing of a hard onyx block being magically turned into a smooth and shiny egg. Ohhhh, Ahhhhh, Snorrrre. Next was the "subtle" herd into the 5 beautiful onyx and other precious metals show rooms. After 5 minutes Robby, Kristin and I escaped to the ice cream stand across the street and waited not so patiently for the 15 moronic shoppers to exit the factory - we did not pay to shop. There were clearly more than just poor backpackers on our tour.
Eventually everyone exited the factory and we drove to the Fairy Chimney rocks or almost drove to the Fairy Chimney rocks. The van hit something in the road, a loud pop was heard, and 10 minutes later we were all walking our asses through the desert. At least the weather was a nice temperature since a storm looked to be brewing. It caused rays of sunlight to poke through the dark gray clouds and shroud the land in angelic light. Quite beautiful, except for the ugly orange color of the rays and the muddy gray of the clouds.
15 minutes later we rounded a corner to look down on the Fairy Chimney rocks. The rocks are basically phalic looking poles of limestone that shoot upwards and are toped with a small triangle looking stone at the top. Someone nicknamed the Valley the Valley of Penis'. We snapped pictures and waited around for the new Van to show up. So far I still have a high loathing for Tours, but half the places we went we couldn't' easily get to without a tour bus.
We made it back to Show String with enough time to grab our bags and head to the bus station to catch our 8:30pm bus to some small town to catch a night bus to Katha. The little bus that came was so packed that three unlucky souls had to sit on the floor near the door for the two hours to the bigger town. For our night bus to Katha we had to wait around the bus station for 2 hours (an hour after the departure time of the bus) frantically asking every bus that pulled up if they were the bus we needed since no one could tell us exactly were our bus was going to dock.
After annoying the guy at the ticket office we were stuck with another guy going on the same bus with us and from there we dragged our bags back and forth across the bus station before some guy was running across the street to stop our bus as it was driving passed the station. We hauled ass to the illegally parked bus, handed our backpacks over to the bus guy and boarded a very hot and very packed bus. Our seats were the 2 before the row of four at the back of the bus. Three little kids were in our seats that begrudenly moved into the ailse and behind us when we came. We sat down with 4 adults, 3 kids under three, 2 kids about 7, and one grandma sharing the 4 seats behind us, one adult under the back of our seats and three small ones passed out in the ailse. This was the start of a fun nights rest.
Kristin got the pleasure of sitting next to a nice Turkish man, but he feel asleep with his head constantly rolling on Kristin. I had a 7 year old sleeping on the back of my head rest. I didn't want to hit the kid so I couldn't really stick my head all the way back and I couldn't lean my chair back because of all the people behind me. The bus stopped every three hours for a 30 minute piss break where the lights went on, the kids hit our elbows on the way outside and the AC was turned off.
Around 6:30am we rolled into dank bus station and sort of continued to doze because we figured the bus guy would tell us when we reached Katha. Nope, everyone got off the bus and Kristin told us we had arrived when she ventured out to see were we were. Katha, a small dust pit of despair. We wearily exited the bus, grabbed our bags and wondered what to do next. We knew that a city bus to Mt. Nemrut didn't leave until about 2pm and so we were decided to wander into town when a guy offered to take us to our hostel for an exorbitant price. We told the guy no, but he kept asking and telling us we wouldn't get a better deal. We opted to wait until the city bus. On top of the lovely haggler, a 12 year old with his fly unzipped stared at us like we were monkeys in the zoo. We were not in the mood. Just as we picked up our bags to walk into town to find a coffee shop a nice man told us he was headed to Mt. Nemrut and offered to take us for a reasonable sum. We agreed.
Our pension was the last rest stop before the entrance to Mt. Nemrut and that is why we choose it, but the beds were most likely wood planks covered in sheets on top squeaky springs inside an airless room with a shower that dripped freezing cold water. We'd found paradise. At least we got to sleep the morning away instead of being goggled at by the Katha locals.
We woke at noon, decided to venture down the mountain to the pension we saw earlier with all the tour buses and find a bite to eat. The pension turned out to be farther than we thought and by the time we got there all the buses had gone. It was us and the Hotel staff and eggs for lunch. We wished someone would drive us back up the 2KM hill to our pension, but instead we worked off the eggs by climbing the 25 degree incline hill. The rest of the day was spent reading and relaxing.
We woke at 2 am to hike the 10 Km to the top of Mt. Nemrut to watch the sunrise. Mt. Nemrut is known for its 2 meter high stone heads that lie at the feet of the statue bodies. The heads used to be attached to the bodies, but after an earthquake, they rolled to the ground. The statues were built by a crazy king (sort of like Ramese II) who worshiped himself among other gods. He somehow built a large stone peak on top of Mt. Nemrut, put statues around it and most likely buried some dead people within the peak.
We walked uphill under the cover of a cool starry night, chatting and enjoying ourselves. Surprisingly multiple cars passed us on the way up. We secretly wished they'd give us a ride, but if you saw three dark figures walking along a mountainside at 3 in the morning would you stop and offer a ride? The Lonely Planet had said that the trek to the top of Mt. Nemrut was only 6KM, which it was really 10, so when it told us that the last 3 KM of the trek would have to be driven in 1st gear we paid no attention. Apparently someone got some information right and the last 3 KM sucked big time. Nearly a 40 degree incline that didn't even out even for a brief bit. Up, up, and up. We passed a car that stalled out and was being pushed up the hill, but soon that car regained its engine and passed us.
2 hours and 7 minutes since we had started our journey we were regaining our breathes on a bench a mere 600 meters from the top. Somehow the coffee seller and his buddies knew we were from Cesme Pension. I guess not many people walk and the pension guy told his friends we planned to walk. We climbed the 600 meters of steps to the top and watched the sun rise through a foggy haze. At least the heads were interesting or the walk was for nothing. There were about 8 heads on the East side of the mountain. The human looking head was of the King and the rest were various animal heads that represented the Gods. 5 of the bodies sat in a line above the heads. We walked around the top of the peak to the West side where there were more heads, but most of the statues were destroyed. As we walked back towards the East side and the exit, the sun came out of the fog and showed us its orange and yellow rays. The journey was worth it afterall.
We lucked out in hitchhiking down the mountain to the pension because it would have torn our knees to shred's walking. A nice group of guys pulled over and stuffed us three, along with 2 bigger guys in the back of a small Neon while two guys rode in front. Hey, a free rides a free ride. Besides, we had to catch a 7:30 am city bus back to Katha to catch another city bus to Urfa.
We loaded into a 15 pass van with a family of 5 kids and 2 parents for an hour before we transferred to another 15 pass van that crammed us, the family, 13 other people, and Robby's backpacking backpack into the non ACed and closed windowed van. We sped along the city streets looking for more passengers and slowly made our way to Urfa, a big city in Eastern Turkey. Three hours later we breathed fresh air at another dirty bus station while collecting ourselves.
Urfa basically looks like another Cairo. Poor, dirty, and covered in annoying hecklers and catcallers. Somehow we found our way to Hospitality Hostel, a bunch of rooms in a house of a happy old couple. We were given a nice room, again with the lumpy hard beds and no air circulation, but it was clean and the owners were very friendly. We dropped our bags and were lead into town by Aziz, the owner of the Hostel.
He took us to a holy fish pool that is said to house the fish of the Prophet Mohammed. The story of the fish somehow goes like this: There was a castle on the hill that Mohammed was living in and a bad guy wanted to live there so he blasted Mohammed out of the castle which blew Mohammed into the air and down onto the pond, which saved his life, and all the fiery bits of castle turned into fish in the pond. Something like that and now the fish are sacred and people from all over come here to feed them. Aziz left us with a 13 year old that looked about 10 and told us he was his nephew and a Jr. Tour guide.
We asked the nephew to take us to an internet cafe and ended up seeing the fish pond again, along with a mosque, a giant park, numerous streets, and eventually a very smoky, all male internet cafe. We checked our emails, lost the nephew and ventured into downtown Urfa. We came upon a bazaar, looked about, tried in vain to find food that wasn't ke-bob or pizza and went back to the Hostel. The mother of the hostel cooked RObby and I a homecooked dinner and we retired early, but not before meeting the other 20 or so people that were staying at the house. We didn't think there were that many rooms, but I guess they were good at cramming in the beds.
The next morning we took a city bus to Harran. We boarded a fairly empty 15 pass van and spent the next hour going up and down the city streets trying to find more passengers before the driver would head to Harran. The drivers don't like to drive places without a full van because gas is so expensive, but I would think driving 5 miles an hour up and down hills would waste more gas than just driving to the location. Good thing I'm not a bus driver.
Harran is the world's longest inhabited city...now barely inhabited city. We pulled up along side a bee hive house, got out and took in the dirt and tussle weeds. The old section of Harran is know for the Oldest Mosque, the castle and the bee hive houses. The bee hive houses are basically bee hive looking dome roofs placed on top square walls, all made of mud, bricks, and plants. The domes of the bee hives were reinforced with bricks stolen from the Mosque and Castle.
The place we stopped at was a bee hive house that visitors could look in and see how the people lived. The temperature was a cool 80 degrees while outside burned under the 105 degree sun. Mats and little chairs covered the floors, a stone table was set up in the kitchen, good luck charms hung from the ceiling, and old men stared at us over their huka containers. We ventured into town.
What remained of the largest Mosque in the world was a half destroyed rectangular bell tower and one wall. Piles of rubble lay forgotten and crumbled along the dimensions of the old walls and many more pieces of crumbled rocks littered the valley for a distance. Harran looked to be quite large in its hay day.
The castle was falling apart, but one could still climb the three floors and look out at the town. Harran used to be covered in grass and surrounded by lakes, but now it is a dust bowl surrounded by farmland. It's weird because the castle, the Mosque, the bee hive houses and a few other houses are all set upon dirt while just out of reach is bright green crops and water. It's like the land is trying to gave up on life, get rid of life and fade into nothingness, but humans won't let it go.
We headed back to Urfa, wandered about some more and went to the bus station to board our respective buses. Kristin was headed to Olympos for a week of relaxation while Robby and I were headed to Istanbul to catch a bus to Budapest. We decided that it was too expensive to travel in Greece for a week, so we might as well travel to Budapest and Prague for cheaper and see more. We were kind of sick of the same old Roman and Greek ruins anyhow and needed something new, like gothic buildings and castles. (Short note, it is really expensive and quite hard to get to Tel Aviv from Europe, so I will be forfeiting my semi free ticket home from Israel and boarding a plane from Krakow to Dublin to LA on September 11th. Now I have a few extra days to explore Europe and I don't have to backtrack to the Middle East, especially during a war time.)
Of Course the bus that Robby and I were taking was late and after wandering if it was going to show up, a guy told us to follow him out of the bus station, up and over the over pass, down to the other side of the street and on to an island in the middle of the main road. We stood with our packs wondering what the hell we were doing. We finally understood after a bus stopped at the island (not our bus) and dropped people off. Somehow we had managed to book another bus that didn't stop at the bus station. Kristin (who was catching a later bus), Robby and I decided that in the future on top of asking the bus people if the bus is large (some are 15 passes), ACed, and for a seat in the middle of the bus, we now have to ask if it actually stops at the station or if we need to go chase it down.
45 minutes late our bus stopped at the Island, we said goodbye to Kristin, and boarded a 15 hour hell ride. Now most people know that on a bus the seats go back a little and if it is an over night bus the seats will go back. Somehow this understanding of bus logic didn't get passed along to the mean old man sitting behind me. I pushed my chair back and was immediately launched forward. The old man had pushed his hands down on the top of my seat and let go, effectively flicking the seat. I turned around and was met with an evil glare and an expression that said, "put the seat up". I put it up and cowered in an uncomfortable position. I knew that the seats had about a foot and a half of knee room, but that was still a foot and a half of knee room. Somehow the old man had his chair all the way forward and his knees pressing into the back of my upright chair. I think he was slouching all the way forward.
I asked Robby to watch the man through the crack in the chairs and tell me when he moved so I could slowly move the chair backwards. It worked for a bit, but everytime I got off the bus and back on, the chair was back upright. Smart little bastard. Another night of restless sleeping.
So now I am in Hungary, have been for a while, but I've written enough for this blog and bored you all miserably. So good night and I will write more about horrible bus journeys later.