43 Days in Turkey and a ferry to Israel
I have been to Turkey about four times now (1988, 1990, 1995 & 1997) including an afternoon on the Turkish side of Nicosia and would go back there again and again given the time. It’s a fantastic and fascinating country with some real extremes. I have also noticed changes over time and mostly not for the best sadly. This was one of my favourite adventures which happened over nearly two months in 1990 and includes the passage via Rhodes and Cyprus to Israel. My apologies if there are mistakes in this as I wrote it years ago and have just scanned it and many things have undoubtedly changed since then. Also This was originally written as a sort of letter to Andy so may seem a bit odd in places… oh what the hell.
Prologue
It all started before christmas 1989 when I went for a drink in Chatham with a couple of friends I had stayed with when I first arrived in Kent, Paul Ashley (alias Kojak, a semi-scouse person from Wigan), and Andy Clark (a semi-Welsh person from south Wales). I think we ended up in the cellar of Churchills, an alternative club where the definition of a good night was to get out without needing an overnight stay in casualty. By coincidence we were both contemplating traveling abroad in the near future and, once we had got talking, decided to make plans together
I already knew roughly where I wanted to go, Turkey, Syria, Jordan a spell on a Kibbutz in Israel then on to Egypt and home again, which was about all I could afford. Andy seemed keen so we decided that by July we would have enough money, the weather would be right and the political climate perfect, what could go wrong? Undaunted by the lack of a Syrian embassy in Britain for visas we handed in our notice and bought a one way ticket to Istanbul.
What follows therefore is an account of our attempt to explore the above countries, to the best of my recollection, and get some kind of a feel for their way of life and history or, failing that, to have a damned good time
Monday 9th July
Monday dawned bright and warm so Andy, Susan Bowmer (now married with a daughter and living in Australia) and I headed off to a forest reserve called Pinetum somewhere in the wilds of Kent to practice with our new cameras, took lots of artistic pictures of trees before setting off to Gatwick for our evening flight at which point the English summer broke into its usual rain and drizzle. “Oh well”, I thought, “this will probably be the last rain we’ll see for a while”.
Said my goodbyes to Susan at the airport then made a quick call to a friend, Kojak who was due to return from Antigua at about this time and caught him literally coming in through the door after six months away so was able to gloat that we were just off to the sun leaving him with the British climate and job searching!
At the airport I changed some money at what turned out to be half the rate we would get all over Turkey, ripped off before I’d even left Britain (never trust an Englishman).
The flight was over almost too quickly. I must admit I was apprehensive about arriving in a big foreign city in the early hours and having to find accommodation. Anyway we arrived to the sight of dozens of Muslims dressed in white shawls carrying bottles of water milling around the airport presumably making some kind of pilgrimage, at least I never saw people dressed like this again carrying their water supplies with them in all of Turkey.
Stepped out of the airport to rain (good start) got ripped off immediately by a taxi driver who took us to Sultanhamed square in the old city for an exorbitant fee (better and better) then wandered around for about an hour trying to find a room for what remained of the night (not much considering it was 4.00 a.m.) before giving up and sitting on a bench for a rest regretting the weight of my rucksack already (intrepid explorers or what? Almost immediately a shifty Turk strolled up and offered to show us to a hotel surprisingly owned by one of his relatives. So, glad of some help we set off to the oldest. part of the city by the look of it and, after finally waking the receptionist we sat and had a conversation for several minutes neither understanding what the other was saying until Andy and I realised he was speaking German and between the two of us managed to work out that he wanted to see our passports and book us in. No problem. He showed us to a basement room with dodgy shower and toilet at which point we collapsed onto our beds and slept like people who had been awake for 20 hours, which we had.
The rest of that day, once we finally surfaced, was spent strolling around part of the city finding somewhere to eat and avoiding zebra crossings which appeared to be designated areas on which to run down pedestrians since nobody ever stopped if you were walking across one.
Wednesday 11th July
We decided today to pay a visit to Topkapi palace, the original residence of the Ottoman sultans. The place was packed with tourists but still much like a scene out of the Arabian nights with colourful blue and white tiles and plasterwork, overhanging balconies surrounded by wooden fretwork and attractive secluded gardens (well they would have been before the tourists came).
There were several museums, one full of cooking implements, one with wall to wall china, Ming and whatever dynasty which looked to me much like anything you can buy on a market stall in the UK. A weapons museum was quite interesting with everything from muskets to six foot long swords, suits of medieval steel armour and samurai armour made of bamboo. Various trinkets were on display in different rooms including the sword of Suleiman the magnificent, a huge jewel apparently famous from some film named Topkapi, so famous neither of us had ever heard of it, and various pieces of the prophet Mohamed’s anatomy such as some hair from his beard. Well I was convinced.
As well as Mohamed’s bow and arrow there was also a small reception room with a huge armchair where the Sultan used to receive guests all nicely lit and surrounded by rubbernecks (lonely planet speak) clicking away with their cameras which of course did not include us since we were travelers, a completely different thing!
As we were strolling through the courtyards a strange wailing and banging sound could be heard coming from the entrance and everybody lined up to see what was happening. Through our great skill at planning our itinerary we had timed our visit to coincide with a display by some Turkish Medieval band which was dressed in striking red and purple Ali Baba costumes playing strange horn like trumpets and drums to a fast swirling rhythm, and accompanied by soldiers in chain mail armour with wicked looking swords all very spectacular. At this point Andy risked life and limb, whilst. I risked permanent back injury by hoisting him up onto my shoulders to get a better view for photographs which by the way I have not yet seen, leaving me suspicious as to whether his new fandango camera actually worked.
Istanbul – Thursday 12th July
We arose bright and early (about 11.00 am!) intent on, a trip across the Bosphorus to a place called Üsküdar and set off on the local ferry carrying, I presume, commuters from Eminonu, a district of Istanbul. As with most things in Turkey when the price is fixed it was very cheap, a few pence, and took us, within twenty minutes or so, from Europe to Asia. there was little to see at Üsküdar but it was nice to experience a non tourist side of Istanbul and the ferry trip afforded some different views of the minarets and domes on the skyline. We strolled along the waterfront for a while where I dropped my lens cap into the Bosphorus and was too suspicious of the water to jump in and retrieve it. Later we re-crossed the Bosphorus wandered around the modern part of Istanbul for a while and found a shop selling enticing cheese which we thought would make a tasty addition to the bread and marmite we had been filling up on recently.
Back at the room we tucked into what turned out to be Feta cheese disgustingly salty but which nevertheless followed is round for close to a week in my rucksack until we decided it was sufficiently rancid to throw away. The result of our meal was a raging thirst which we could have done without. Since we were out of water (we had even been cleaning our teeth with bottled water afraid of catching something nasty from the tap water). This led to our one and only experiment with purification tablets. We filled a bottle with luke warm tap water and added two tablets, sat back and waited half an hour before nervously taking a sip of the disgusting chlorine flavoured, body temperature liquid. Mmm lovely, but we survived and learned from then onwards to pick up a bottle of water before returning to our room at night.
Istanbul – Friday 13th July
This was to be our last day in Istanbul since we were keen to do some serious sunbathing and general beach bumming. First however we had to do some shopping in the covered bazaar, a maze of a place under colourful arched ceilings full of streets specialising in brassware, carpets, antiques and gold or silver trinkets. Andy seem to have the knack of haggling with these guys but I think we were both still ripped off. As with the rest of Turkey everybody is related if not to a carpet seller around the corner then to someone in another part of the country who owns a hotel which we should visit, so after fighting our way through the shopkeepers we bought souvenirs and presents then headed back to the room.
Later that evening we were strolling around when a Turk came up to us and started asking about our trip, so we explained our plan to travel around. Some Turks are very friendly and we thought nothing of it until he asked us how we got here to which we replied “By plane”, prompting his classic question “Why not by carpet? Magic carpet”. Yes, another carpet salesman. Since we had little else to do we followed him to his shop where he plied us with apple tea then proceeded to show us hundreds of rugs varying from silken carpets costing several hundred pounds to Kilims and old woven pillow covers all of which we consistently refused to sound interested in. These people however are remorseless, It you cannot carry it they will post it, it you don’t like it they have another, if it is too big they have a smaller one (what is the point of a carpet one foot square?), and if you can’t afford it you should cut your holiday short so that you can! Was it worth it for a free apple tea? Probably.
During this day we were told by some tourists that it was not possible to cross into Syria from Turkey so we already had to revise our plans and consider ferries to Greece and Israel.
That evening we headed for the bus depot and set off across the Bosphorus bridge to Kusadasi, Asia and some real traveling.
We got off the bus miles outside Kusadasi (it used to stop in the town itself) took one look and decided to carry on to a smaller village by the sea called AItinkum. We were immediately beset with young Turks dragging us oft to their pensions which we were apprehensive about at first but most rooms shown to us throughout the trip were fine and invariably cheap. What was left of the day was spent on the beach building up a tan so that we could pass later on as experienced travelers rather than English yobs on holiday. They never really Knew where Wales was though one old geezer told me the Turkish for Wales Was ‘Galeh’. I was convinced and tried it on several Turks later on but they just looked at me like I was mad.
Sunday 15th July
Not much to say about today but it was hot as hell, “Yeah man but it’s a dry heat”!
Today we set off for our first visit to an ancient. ruin, the temple of Apollo at Dydima a short Dolmus (minibus) ride away from Altinkum. The ruins are set in amongst the village buildings though fenced off, and consisted of a wide flight of steps leading up to an entranceway 
of pillars mostly five or six feet high where they had toppled over at some time during the past. A couple had been re-erected to stand perhaps twenty metres high surmounted by a block of stone joining them. Everything was constructed from rough white stone but stained black with age, the columns were fluted and some of the bases carved in a rectangular Greek pattern. Beyond the entranceway was a large enclosure perhaps seventy metres long and thirty wide with a smoothed stone and earth base. The walls would be about ten metres high. Another wide flight of steps led down to this enclosure which apparently used to contain a spring or well used by an oracle. On the whole quite impressive for such a small area though the complete temple must have been magnificent.
Andy and I strolled around the outside for a while trying to find some artistic Photos of ancient grave stones, carved medusas heads and the intricate designs along the base of the walls. I personally got lots of pictures of white rock which can never do justice to actually walking around an ancient site with the sun beating down on your head and a raging thirst due to all the beer drunk the night before.
Afterwards I wandered around some souvenir shops where I saw an old photograph of the ruin with a huge windmill sat in the middle of it so obviously quite a lot of restoration has been carried out here and I reckon it. was well worth it.
Tuesday 17th July
After our exertions yesterday we decided to spend a while on the beach again, messing about in the water with our Coca Cola miniature football to cool down as it got pretty hot lying in the sun at this time of year. We also met a group of Turkish lads who were playing with a Frisbee or something who asked me to Join them for a game of football at the artificial five-a-side pitch later that evening. I strolled along to watch for a while but didn’t play. Meanwhile Andy met a local chef or waiter and got quite friendly at a local bar apparently they talked politics for a while and discussed communism or something and the condition of the Kurds in Eastern Turkey. Either way when I met up with them it. was pleasant sitting in the fresh air with a drink enjoying the mild evenings. There was also an Englishman staying at our pension with his wife who told us about the “cages” in Istanbul. Apparently a Turk can send his wife to this area it he gets into debt where she acts as a prostitute. There are police at one end of the street and bars up at all the windows with the women calling down and if is all legal sounds awful to me but other people mentioned it later on so perhaps it’s true.
Wednesday 18th July
We’re really getting into the swing of things now and spent today on a different beach. Our tans are coming on quite nicely, Andy uses about three different lotions to get the perfect bronze colour including some kind of cooking oil to tone the final hue.
Before setting off on this trip we had been advised not to go to a coastal resort called Bodrum where the 18-30 set hang out. Allegedly it is full of bars and nightclubs which are constantly crowded and the beaches are full of English holidaymakers. It took us three Dolmus buses to get there from Altinkum and when we arrived it turned out to be exactly as described and, as you can imagine we loved it.
The Journey was actually very nice, very hilly and dry but not unlike parts of Wales in appearance, except that it was hot and never rained, had no trees and no rugby posts. Since we had most of the day left we headed for Gumbet beech a short Journey away but I was not impressed, the sand was gritty and the whole shore bordered by hotels and full of package tourists.
That evening we strolled into town for a few drinks and after trying a couple of bars settled in one. Andy set off to the loo whilst I ordered a beer. At one end of the bar I noticed a very pretty girl who seemed to be looking over, I thought nothing of it since after I’ve had a few drinks everyone fancies me but seconds later she was sat next to me. Normally at this point my brain disengages from my mouth and I spill my drink, however, perhaps it was the holiday atmosphere, perhaps it all happened too fast for my feeble mind, maybe I’d had a touch of the sun or just the right amount to drink, but I turned to her and started talking to my surprise she didn’t, immediately walk off and was very friendly. She was a Turkish girl from Istanbul named Iserl, (though she could have been called Michael for all I knew and we were both too pissed to notice!) By the time Andy returned we were well into a flow of conversation and luckily her English was very good since my Turkish amounted to six words, the numbers one to five which sound something like “beer icky ooch dirt besh” and “teshekur ederim” which we think meant thank you. Fortunately she had a friend with her who, somehow, Andy managed to spend most of the evening with, I say somehow because she didn’t speak a word of English and Andys Turkish was about as good as mine. Sadly they were returning to Istanbul the next day so we had some fun that evening, kissed them goodnight then headed back to our room. All in all a good start to our stay in Bodrum.
Friday 20th July
We awoke this morning with the most God awful hangovers imaginable. Dehydration from the days sunbathing topped up with more beers than I normally drink in a week and then waking up in a stuffy room in the middle of a Mediterranean summers day hardly sets you up for a good day. However we had found a shop selling cartons of UHT milk which we figured could hardly do any harm, and greasy croissant like pastries which probably would do us some harm but made an excellent breakfast.
The town itself consists mostly of a narrow main street lined with carpet, leather and trinket shops and interspersed with bars constantly playing “The Power” by Snap, and the occasional night club. We went along to a club in one of the hotels but it was too expensive (and we were probably too scruffy) so we didn’t go in. It is getting very hot these days even at 4.00 pm and a short walk leaves you exhausted so we just lie on the beach and miss out the tiring stuff.
Probably went for a drink again tonight.
Saturday 21st July
Another day spent on the Beach, what can I say?
Sunday 22nd July
Our Pansion is in the centre of town attached to a small bar, a bit dingy but fine for what we want. The bar has a sort of bamboo roof and a TV showing Mission impossible in Turkish and some awful Turkish singer like a cross between Des O’connor and Zorba the Greek, very entertaining. We sat for a while and played Backgammon which was relaxing and beats the hell out of sitting watching TV.
We paid a visit to Bodrum castle today, an old Christian fortress which had something to do with the knights of St John. Not much to see except a glass museum containing bottles and drinking glasses dating from ancient to Medieval times. From the battlements it is possible to see the length of the Bodrum seafront. It has no beach to speak of and the hotels and apartments run right up to the edge of the wafer but there are some beautiful boats built mostly from wood, and a few small cruising yachts for hire.
We are both missing English food already and dreaming of steak and chips rather than the usual Goulash or Kebab with tomato and cucumber. Tonight however we found a street seller selling baked potatoes with whatever filling you want including real cheese after which I felt on top of the world.
Monday 23rd July
We had learned that there was a British Embassy on the outskirts of town so we walked over to find it. When we arrived there was no reply so we wandered up the hillside further to take a look at an old Roman theatre and some Achaean tombs carved into the rocks. it was nice to get off the beaten track a Iittle even though the tombs were little more than holes in a cliff face.
We returned to the consulate and asked about the possibility of traveling into Syria, the official did not think we would be allowed and could only suggest we went to Ankara and speak with the Syrian embassy, but Ankara was well out of our way so apart from phoning the embassies which would probably entail trying to have a conversation with someone who spoke very little English, we would probably have to resort to plan B and a ferry journey through Rhodes and Cyprus lo Israel.
In the evening we set out for a quiet beer, again, and after several quiet beers met up with a couple of friendly young English girls Emma and Lynda. It’s nice to sit and order your beers, drink for a while and then pay as you leave rather than the British way of paying for each one as you order it though on the other hand its easier to lose track of how much you have had, which probably accounts for the fact that. I can’t remember anything about the girls we met that evening!
Tuesday 24th July
We spent today on the beach again where we had the biggest juiciest peaches and tastiest bananas I have ever eaten with fresh bread for dinner as we had been doing for a while in Bodrum. At this stage our diet must have been about the healthiest for our whole trip, I don’t think I have ever eaten so much fruit, but we never get fruit like it, in Britain. The peaches and oranges are bigger than a fist.
For a change this evening we went out for a couple of beers and whilst sat at one bar got talking to a couple of English girls, Helen and Joanne. Joanne seemed to naturally get along with Andy and I chatted with Helen for most of the evening. We moved on to another bar then Andy and Joanne decided to wander off somewhere else so I sat with Helen for a while and one thing led to another. Later we sat beside the sea watching the stars and rowboats, some of the time, then during the early hours I walked her back to her pension after claiming she was a little concerned about Joanne, claiming she was a bit innocent. I Told her she was safe with Andy. Well you can’t be honest with women all the time can you?
I left Helen at her door and as I walked off she ran back to me saying Andy was in there too so would I go in with her. I have to apologise here Andy. I honestly did say no, and that I didn’t want to interrupt whatever you two were up to. Talking I assume. However, Helen was insistent so I went in to find the two of you in a state of undress and amazingly unconcerned. Helen persuaded me to stay though I offered to take her back to our room, so we got into bed but the giggles and various other sounds coming from Joanne’s bed were too much so the pair of us finally returned to our room. I hope we didn’t ruin your night. It was quite embarrassing showing Helen our room since it looked like the black hole of Calcutta, really seedy, and I had some knowing looks from the bar staff as we passed.
Wednesday 25th July
Next morning Andy came around quite early apparently glad to get away so Helen left and we arranged to meet up at the bus depot and go to the beach for their last day in Bodrum. We swam around a little in the sea off Turgutreis beach. I swam very little since mostly I sink but playing with a ball is good fun and cooler than lying on the beach. We waved the girls off on the bus after exchanging addresses then sat on the beach for a while longer, that evening we went out for a quiet beer and, for once, that was what we had.
Thursday 26th July
We went back to Turgutreis beach again today which is not so crowded and has a nice view of hills rising out of the sea on the horizon. In the evening I had the most digusting lasagna I have ever known. Imagine sheets of pasta with minced meat and herbs, not Italian herbs though, some foul Turkish weeds, and feta cheese crumbled in amongst the meat. I was constantly trying to find a decent meal, the problem being that we had been warned not to eat salad which was served with everything, and the Goulash, which looked good, was always sat in a window all day in big flat pans attracting the flies. Everything is served with half a loaf of bread however which is generally fresh and very tasty so we were able to fill up on that.
We had spent long enough in Bodrum so set off for Kusadasi intending to spend a week there, Our room was in a fairly nice new hotel outside the main town which meant quite a walk or bus ride to find food and entertainment but handy for the bus stop when we arrived and were ready to leave.
I was very disappointed with Kusadsi as it had changed so much since I was last there about two years previously. It seemed to have doubled in size and was just catering for the cruise ships with nothing but leather ad carpet shops along every street We phoned the consulate for information on visas for Syria and Jordan but had no luck so we were now resigned to plan B.
Saturday 28th July
Someone had suggested we try “Ladies beach” a short bus ride away so we set off only to find it was a narrow strip of grubby sand with every inch covered with bodies like a toast rack. I wasn’t impressed at all, it’s fine if you want to show oft your tan or improve the one you have already got, and I suppose you could meet new people since you would probably end up sharing their beach towel anyway but it’s not my coup of tea at all.
Sunday 29th July
Turkish food has finally caught up with me and my bottom so I stayed in today while Andy went off to the beach.
Monday 30th July
We took a trip over to Seljuk a few miles away and from where Andy went off to visit Ephesus a beautifully preserved ruined Roman city with a magnificent library facade restored recently and a huge amphitheatre built into the side of a hill. I had already been to Ephesus so went oft to see the old Byzantine fort 
up on the hill above Seljuk. Very little remains except the walls and St Johns basilica outside so I took a few photos then set off to meet Andy. We then took a stroll around the remains of one of the seven wonders of the world the temple of Artemis. Unfortunately Alexander the Great had burnt it down some years before and all that remained was a not so wonderful pillar and some bits of rock. Still, apparently there was one of the seven wonders at Bodrum once so we have been to two of the sites, only five more to go.
Had a wander around Kusadasi in the evening for something to eat then as we were strolling along the seafront we got talking to a group of Turks who claimed to be soldiers and were quite friendly until they asked it we fancied one of their mates, at which point we beat a hasty retreat. Altogether we were not too impressed with Kusadasi so decided to leave the next day.
We set off at midday for Pamukkale via Denizli. The Dolmus from Hell brought us along a long rough road to the hillside on which Pamukkale perched and gave us a view of the calcium carbonate pools for which it is renowned at this distance looking like snow draped over the dry scrubby hill.
It was evening by now so we settled in to our pension, a newish hotel with a small pool flanked by comfortable rooms. Exploring town that evening didn’t take long since the place is tiny so we ate then. returned to our room
Wednesday 1st August
The white pools cascading down the hillside are only a short walk from the town of Pamukkale itself and are quite fantastic to see. Originally a spring used to emerge near the top somewhere and over the years due to the high temperatures here during the summer and the associated evaporation had. built up a deposit of calcium several inches thick over a large area. Terraces of pools 
step down in regular formations, each with a narrow lip which retains a pool of warm water a couple of centimetres deep. Small cliff like structures resembling the toe of a glacier have formed below the pools and a narrow channel of water runs through the centre like a tiny bobsleigh run, the whole phenomenon resembles a snow scene though of course it’s hot as hell. At the top there are shops. A museum containing Roman artifacts and hotels, one of which has a pool containing Roman columns littered around the bottom. Apparently the pools have been used as a health spa for centuries hence the Roman remains.
That evening I went out alone to eat and whilst wandering met up with an English girl, Nicola, who was having trouble getting rid of some Turks who were insisting she had dinner with them at their restaurant. She was glad to find someone from the UK and came away to eat with me. She turned out to be a Brummie who was traveling alone on an inter-rail ticket and sick and tired of the hassle from Turkish men. I told her we were going to leave late the next day but were going to visit a ruin during the morning, asked her to come along and she jumped at the chance.
Aphrodisias – Thursday 2nd August
Andy and Nicola seemed to get on well so we set off on a Dolmus for Aphrodisias. Another Roman ruin but covering a large area and in need of extensive excavation. When it has been restored fully it will probably rival Ephesus. We found Roman baths with beautifully finished stone floors, the remains of what I presume was a temple or government building surrounded by fluted columns and a restored amphitheatre complete with a stage area unfortunately an officious guard appearing from a brush wood hut and blowing his whistle prevented us from wandering freely among some parts, and moved us along like he had nothing better to do, which I suppose he didn’t.
A short way from the main ruins was a Roman sports stadium in a bad state of repair but still really impressive since I had never seen one before, Nicola set off to run around it after boasting that she had been a runner, though with her chest it must have been a hell of an ordeal and I bet no Romans ever saw a sight like it in their day!
Our next plan was to travel to Goreme in Cappadocia and Nicola was keen to come along too so we set off that evening for a night bus ride.
As dawn broke over Cappadocia all we could see was a vast empty roiling plain with very little vegetation stretching on to the horizon, but as we reached Goreme and began to drop into its Valley the whole landscape changed before our eyes. Everywhere pointed columns rose from the ground like teeth or huge stalagmites, white, streaked with grey and each apparently capped by a rock. the area was a low lying basin eroded from the surrounding plains by rain water and runoff which had carved its way through the soft Volcanic deposits but leaving pinnacles where a rock or stone had protected the layers beneath from rain falling directly from above.
The bus dropped us off in town early in the morning, exhausted from a night with little sleep and quite chilly too. As usual groups of young Turkish lads came to show us their pensions and we followed one who took us to a cave literally cut into the side of a hill. Inside, the walls were striated showing how the room had been carved out of the rock itself, but it was quite large with several beds, clean and not in the least damp so we decided to stay
That afternoon we set off to see the open air museum nearby. Openings could be seen all over the landscape where homes had been cut and inhabited until fairly recently when the risk of earthquakes had caused the government to move the inhabitants out and into conventional homes. However many of the caves were actually quite ancient and open to exploration so we wandered around outside the museum enclosure for a while and found old Christian Byzantine style wall paintings decaying slowly due to lack of preservation, We also scrumped some peaches growing apparently wild amongst the hillocks before sneaking into the museum down a treacherous slope, risking life and limb to save a few Lira.
Once inside, the dwellings and churches were much the same as those outside but in a better state of preservation, the painted ceilings covered in red blue and yellow frescoes depicting Christian saints etc. Nicola, being a Christian, knew what most of them were and happily gave us a run down on them, she used to be a guide in the Vatican once so was very convincing.
Kaymakli – Saturday 4th August.
We took a bus to Nevsehir and a Dolmus to Visit the underground city of Kaymakli dug from the ground by early Christians trying to avoid raiding Muslims and mongols I assume. the rock is supposed to be fairly soft when first cut into, then hardens soon on exposure to the air but all the same it must have taken years to dig out what we saw.
The guides said that. the tunnels went down 60 metres and included 40 levels though we could only get to three or four at most and some had yet to be explored. The place was like a rabbit warren with tunnels tall enough to stand upright in winding amongst sort of houses with several rooms and apertures to allow light from the main corridors. At one point we found a shaft down which if you dropped a stone it traveled for what? five or six, seconds? Andy knew some calculation to work out the distance but whether he was bullshitting or not I don’t know, but I was convinced at the time.
Nicola didn’t accompany us most of the way, I think she was a bit claustrophobic, so Andy and I went on exploring on our own, being the daring adventurous types that we are. Several tunnels lead on from the marked paths into unlit areas and we decided to follow a couple. The first one as I remember stretched on for quite a while then came to point where a door like a mill stone had been half rolled across and we could see where it fitted into a groove in the wall
. Since we only had a small torch and, though the stone had probably sat there for hundreds of years without moving, we chickened out and retreated back up the tunnel like daring adventurous types with a yellow streak. Anyway after exploring other parts of the city we built up our confidence and returned. This time we passed the stone door and proceeded along to a small room then on to a narrow tunnel which curved away into blackness, I followed this for about twenty metres at which point it was necessary to crawl to go any further and, since it really was very dark down there I bravely turned and fled back to the reassuring electric lights above. I will return one day though.
For months afterwards I had white scars amongst my tan where my back had been skinned down those tunnels. We carried on along the marked route doing Indiana Jones impressions and other really witty things before returning to find Nicola shopping for souvenirs.
We changed our accommodation that afternoon and moved to the Anatolia pension run by an English woman and her French-Canadian husband with the help of an English teacher who goes there every summer to help out and generally recover from the stresses of school.
We were cooked a good meal and had chocolate brownies for pudding then sat chatting for a while. The French Canadian did not seem very friendly but his wife told us that they had lived in Turkey for a few years and had just moved to this pension recently which is apparently how a lot of these establishments work. I think people rent properties, shops included, for the Summer then leave them in the Winter when business disappears. The atmosphere was very friendly and it was nice to sit and talk with people who knew turkey well yet were not lurks and could speak English so there was no need for the usual hand signals and Turkish phrase book. By this stage of our trip Andy was trying to make himself understood to Turks by speaking English loudly and with a Turkish accent though strangely it didn’t help, but then neither did my phrase book.
Not satisfied in our lust for exploration we set off for the Zelve valley rock dwellings, another place originally inhabited by Christians years ago and now converted into an open air museum. The bus dropped us off at a road Junction with a sign indicating the valley several kilometres away so we set off walking. After a short while we came across a line of kiosks selling Ali Baba trousers, standard Turkish souvenirs and colourful hats which Andy and Nicola were keen on but Just didn’t suit me.
We were on a flat expanse of land with hills rising opposite the shops and a dry valley extending away into the distance which signposts reliably informed us was the Zelve Valley. Passing a small cafe on the way we paid our entrance fee and forged on armed with our cameras and bottles of mineral water.
The valley was cut from rock no doubt by a long since dried up river, fairly wide with sheer and sloping sides broken by several large cavern like gaps into which were set window holes and doorways at various levels. Some of the holes were in regular patterns and others apparently randomly dotted about and the whole valley surrounded by the usual pinnacles which cover this part of Cappadocia, but all open to exploration, so Andy and I set out to do just that.
Some of the openings just appeared to be small rooms with what may have been bed spaces cut into the sides or perhaps they were tombs but quite often there were small niches which looked like storage holes perhaps for personal possessions, at one side was a small church like building with a small sort of bell tower on top. Opposite this was particularly large opening in the valley side, a curved eroded cave like feature about a hundred feet high and set with openings at intervals right up to the apex of the curve which had a window looking vertically down. A metal railed stone cut stairway led up part of the way so Andy and I left Nicola and wandered up to explore.
Mostly the rooms were fairly uninteresting but with some careful searching we found holes like chimneys in the ceiling which, with our superior climbing techniques, we managed to scale. This dwelling used to belong to a monk at one time so I imagine he hid from attackers by scuttling up these passages which were hard to find in the dark and difficult to climb in shorts T-shirts and boots let alone any other gear so probably quite effective at keeping him safe. We eventually found a way to the window which looked directly down though you wouldn’t need to suffer from vertigo especially since the rock from which it had been cut and we were lying on was only a few inches thick.
Andy and I were quite amused to watch the coach loads of tourists arriving, mostly Spanish and Italian who, flocked around the site babbling amongst them selves, One minute we would be stood in a quiet area enjoying the view when all of a sudden they would appear from nowhere making a racket, struggling up steps and videoing or photographing each other then, just as suddenly as they had arrived they would scuttle off and peace and quiet would reign again.
After a while we returned to Goreme and our new pension where I cooked myself a huge pile of mashed potatoes, something I had been craving for some time. Later on some local musicians came around and played traditional folk music and the Canadian owner brought out his guitar and entertained us with some hippy music for a while. The whole evening was very pleasantly laid back and I can only compare the pension to a commune, not that I have ever been to one but if they are anything like this then I can recommend one. We were ready to start moving again the next day after spending a few fascinating days in this strange part of Turkey.
We spent a lazy morning at the pension playing with their menagerie of cats and dogs then set off on the bus for Kayseri. Nicola was ready to head back to the UK and had to get to one of the few railway stations in this part of Turkey. It was quite a walk from the Kayseri bus depot but we had decided to accompany her since I think we’d both started feeling protective due to the tales she had told us of the prejudice experienced on her travels and I had noticed the blatant stares in her direction from some of the men we encountered. After walking through an industrial area we eventually reached ail old colonial looking railway station where we found the next train was not for some time. Our bus was not leaving until evening so we waited for a while before kissing her goodbye and heading back for our bus. I have since often wondered what happened to Nicola and hope she got back safely.
Some local people were waiting for buses whilst we were there and Andy took a few surreptitious pictures which could have been quite interesting due to their traditional costume and cute, mucky faces but sadly we will never know because weeks later at the Kibbutz his camera was stolen from our room and that film with it.
We spent that evening on the bus heading for Malatya planning to find a room as a base from which to take a trip to Mount Nemrut. When we arrived it must have been after midnight since the streets were almost deserted and we had to walk for maybe a mile to find a recommended hotel which, when we arrived, only had room on its roof. We were past caring by then though and would sleep anywhere so settled down to a really good nights sleep warm and mosquito free surprisingly. There were plenty of others on the roof but not tourists, Turks who, by the time I woke had all packed and gone, probably to work.
The first thing we did was to book a trip to mount Nemrut (Nemrut Dagi) in one of the travel shops and dump our rucksacks in their storage space. The trip did not start, until later in the afternoon so we wandered around town for a while, ate and bought a supply of peaches and bread, our staple diet.
Malatya is an uninspiring place just like any modern city with very westernised modes of dress both for the men and women so we were glad to set off that afternoon with our rucksacks tied precariously onto the roof rack and us squeezed inside a minibus with about fifteen others.
To start off with we drove along a normal tarmacked road for several miles before turning onto a dirt track which gradually wound its way through some cultivated foothills dotted with the occasional hovel by the roadside. As we progressed the road became more precarious with steep drops and hairpin bends which the driver thankfully took at little more than walking pace. Further on and cultivation must have been impossible as the scenery became progressively more barren with gullies showing where severe water erosion was taking place. We stopped a couple of times for a drink in cafes looking like something from a spaghetti western with bare plaster walls and simple wooden chairs. Children ran around us as soon as we got out of the bus begging for money or willing to let us photograph them so long as we paid. It really is like the third world in those hills.
As we progressed sometimes we dropped into a valley with a pebbly dry river bed at the bottom before rising up again to a further range of hills. There were two minibuses and watching the one in front was like seeing a safari expedition in the Himalayas or somewhere with the bleak backdrop of mountains, dry rivers and plumes of dust kicked up behind. After several hours we reached a flattened area like a high valley and while there had been no sign of habitation for some time, now there was an encampment of people in tents who must live a harsh life at that height since it was now very windy and cold.
A few minutes later and we arrived outside a newly built hotel just below the summit. We were given the option in Malatya to rent a room or sleep up in the roof and being skint travelers we plumped for the roof where we dropped off our stuff and, not being bothered to wait for the buses to take us the last few hundred feet we walked up to the top.
Turkey is not a rich country and obviously they need to make as much money as possible from the rich tourists visiting every year. However, we were completely surprised if not a little pissed of to find a portacabin just below the summit, manned by a smarmy old man and his young son demanding payment for entry to see the “anteecs” above. Having come so far we were hardly going to say we wouldn’t pay, turn around and walk off were we? So we stumped up perhaps partly because if any one can live on the top of a freezing cold windy mountain in a portacabin with plastic sheets for windows they deserve something for their trouble. We could probably have walked around and sneaked in for free without anyone knowing but I think we were too astonished to think of it.
The top is surmounted by a huge pile of loose stone which reputedly covers the tomb of some long dead king though it has never been excavated since the stones repeatedly bury any tunnels dig into its side, and I imagine the remoteness and inaccessibility has precluded the use of heavy machinery so far. On two sides of the mounds are a set of huge seated statues 
and freezes of mythical beasts and long forgotten warriors and heroes. The remains are in a poor state probably due to the extreme conditions they must have been subjected to for hundreds if not thousands of years and as a result most of the figures lie in pieces around the feet of their chairs. One set of figures face East to watch the sunrise and the others face west perpetual witnesses to the Turkish sunset.
Sunset however was what we had come to see apparently surpassed only by a magnificent sunrise vividly described in our guide book. We sat on the top of this piece of rock about twice the height of Snowdon or Ben Nevis in the centre of Turkey in a gale and watched the sun set then headed briskly down to the hotel to warm up and have a bite to eat (lentil soup I think). We settled down along with about a dozen others among the rafters of the hotel wrapped in sleeping bags ail listening to the wind trying to tear the root off as it howled around us before we slept.
Wednesday 8th August
That morning we woke at about three thirty in pitch dark with plenty of time to reach the top again and watch the sun “tear itself from the earth and leave us speechless with awe” as described in the guide book. What actually happened was that we dressed in all the clothes we had, two pairs of trousers a couple of T-shirts a sweat shirt and a denim jacket in my case, hurried up to the summit only to find, about fifty or so other people who had come from another hotel on the other side of the rock already encamped up there in the best wind free places. We then stood around and shivered for half an hour in the pitch black wondering why the sun was late then got all excited as the sky lightened only to wait another half an hour until it finally peaked over the horizon. I think my best photos came out when I put my sunglasses over the lens to act as a filter. It was a good sunrise and I would not have missed the experience for anything but the guide book certainly exaggerated it. I found it more impressive to look across the huge landscape to the East and glimpse the Euphrates river glittering in the distance and imagine how civilization first originated somewhere in that direction.
We scurried back down to the hotel soon afterwards for the usual breakfast of cheese, tomato and cucumber with toast and a cup of Turkish tea. During breakfast we sat with a Danish girl called Lena who, when we said we were heading East was keen to travel with us mainly to gain some protection from marauding Turks so, we packed our things onto the bus and headed back to Malatya.
We arranged to meet Lena at the bus station later on then wandered off around Malatya which surprisingly was exactly the same as the day before. Dull. We had left our rucksacks at the tourist office and when we returned to pick them up decided to have a rest upstairs above the office but when we came to leave found we had been locked in. The next ten minutes or so was spent frantically trying to attract someone’s attention to let us out which they did eventually. Relieved, we made for the bus depot, and with no further ado set off with Lena on a very long night journey to Tatvan.
Turkish buses are actually far more comfortable than British ones but after several hours trying to sleep I tend to get fairly cheesed off especially since, in trying to cushion my head against the vibration I destroyed my best straw hat! This hat followed me all the way from Maidstone and was utterly useless since whenever I wore it, it blew off. Finally disillusioned I went to throw it away but gave it to Andy instead after which we never had so much as a gentle breeze. Months later I had it back and it actually returned to Britain with me in the end.
We arrived in Tatvan where all I wanted was to find a room to sleep since we had traveled late to Malatya, slept on a roof, tried to sleep in a hotel loft for about four hours and then spent the next night traveling. However, I was persuaded to catch the ferry to Van straight away. Literally as we left the taxi, walked to the boat along a deserted dock and stepped onto the ferry it pulled away.
There were about a dozen people on the whole boat so we lay on the deck in the early morning sunshine and slept. The journey was unbelievable. It cost about thirty pence and lasted a very tranquil four hours across a dead calm lake with dry yellow brown hills glimpsed through the heat haze in the distance.
On another deserted dock at the other side we met an English lad about to make the return Journey who claimed to have passed through a burning village the day before, which had been the subject of a Kurdish rocket attack. This was the first hint we had that there was any trouble between the Turks and Kurds.
A short taxi ride took us to Van where we found a pension and settled down for a rest before exploring the town. Our impression was that there was a tense atmosphere not at all like the more western Turkish towns. The people were far less friendly and whereas in the West shopkeepers obviously wanted you to spend your money but were pleasant about it and quite entertaining, in Van the locals made no attempt to charm the customers and one carpet seller actually thought we were insulting him and his culture when we were not so keen on his Kurdish design carpets. They do have strange cats here though with different. coloured eyes really odd to see even though they were pictured on postcards throughout the country.
By now some of our clothes were quite filthy and we were running low on soap suds but our guide book said that lake Van was a soda lake and it was possible to get, up a lather in it and wash clothes. So game for anything we decided to give it a try the next day.
Akdamar Island – Friday 10th August
A short ride along the coast is Akdamar island which it was possible to visit via a quick boat ride so we set of with our washing, swimwear and cameras. The island is tiny but has an old Armenian church covered in beautiful carvings including an image of David & Goliath. There were also grave stones 
carved with swirling crosses and abstract shapes which look every bit like Celtic symbols found in Wales and scotland but as far as I know there is no link between the two areas.
We spent a while beside the water washing our smalls, or at least trying to. There is no way anyone could get a lather from that water, in fact all we did was turn the dust into mud even after using some of our soap powder. Well perhaps they smelled a little better afterwards, at least we met a couple of English girls, Eve and Caroline who were sunbathing nearby and they never complained, in fact. they came back with us and had a meal in Van so we couldn’t have smelled too bad.
Dogubayazit – Saturday 11th August
We had booked a trip to our next town, Dogubayazit, with the “Old Tusba” travel agency which ran a trip encompassing some waterfalls, a lava flow, Kurdish nomad village and Isak Pasa Sarayi a palace nearby, and set off in the morning.
The waterfalls were quite surprising since the surrounding countryside was barren and dry as usual with low hills rising all around. I imagine the water comes from the Ararat range of mountains which were at that point still out of view. We crossed a narrow rope bridge to a small cafe for a drink and took some photographs then were rounded up and herded off to the next destination, a Kurdish village. What we actually did was stop at the side of the road and look down at a group of traditional brown and modern white marquee type tents with a few goats around and were mobbed by dirty kids begging as usual for anything from hats and sunglasses to Andy’s camera. When our five minutes were up we were driven on and through a landscape of rough spiky black rock which was evidently the lava flow we had been promised and unceremoniously dumped at a tour office in Dogubayazit. We were all expecting to be taken on to the palace mentioned but suddenly the plans had changed and we had to hire an extra minibus to take us the rest of the way. After much arguing and general bad feeling we hired a bus and set off swearing never to deal with that particular operator again which of course will be quite an inconvenience because I often pass through Dogubayazit and will have to find another agency to take me now.
Isak Pasha Sarayi is an old palace belonging I guess to the Ottomans, and situated on a rock promontory above a pass leading to Iran. The setting is fairy tale and the palace itself like something out of a Sinbad story. The whole place is surrounded by a high wall and consists of several buildings some of which were completely ruined. the remaining ones were quite impressive with walls beautifully carved and frescoed with Islamic symbols. The doorways and halls were all decorated with columns and coloured stones in a striking oriental fashion the whole palace was topped off with a red brown dome alongside which rose a candy striped minaret. One side of the complex was built right up to the edge of a steep cliff face which fell away into the pass below while windows provided magnificent views of the hills around and plain below on which Dogubayazit was situated.
We returned to town to find a room for the night. That evening we set out as usual to wander around town but there really is nothing there, cars were few and far between though we saw the one horse galloping down the street. I don’t think the Kurds are very happy people due to their constant conflict with Turkey It is magnificently remote and unspoiled with plenty of history, they even have Noahs ark on the slopes of Mount Ararat but little else in the way of resources.
Mount Ararat rises spectacularly in the distance and even in mid August has a cap of snow to make it stand out from the other bleak hills around. Winter here must be a miserable affair but this area does have a character and attraction of its own not enhanced by the people.
Sunday 12th August
We had decided on a daytime Journey today and since Lena was intending to see more of the Black sea coast we made our goodbyes. She was a nurse from Copenhagen and had been glad to have our ‘protection’ from the Turks as had most of the girls we met. She told us how she and another girl had become involved with some Turkish men who wanted to take them on a trip, but when they tried to bring along a lad from Scotland as company things turned nasty and threats were made. In fact there had been a fight between him and the Turks which only ended when they all ran away. I guess turkey is not the place for single women.
Andy and I suffered one of our worst journeys yet in the midday heat on a bus with no air conditioning, which was particularly irritating since most of our night journeys had been spoiled through being too cold because of air-conditioning. The scenery was hardly inspiring either, consisting mainly of a rocky desert with the occasional dull brown flatroofed buildings set into mounds and surrounded by bare earth fields What the people live on I will never know, perhaps pistachio nuts which is what I had acquired a taste for. Large bags of them could be bought very cheaply and as a result I ended up living on them during these long bus Journeys.
We eventually arrived at Diyarbakir, another rough looking industrial town with little to offer so we found a room through a small courtyard and settled down for the night.
Diyarbakir – Monday 13th August
I went off today to walk around the old city walls and somehow ended up with a local kid guiding me who wouldn’t be put off despite me telling him I could not pay him. there are many Turks who are genuinely friendly but the trouble is there are also many who are just out to make money. My ‘guide’ was one of the friendly ones but all the same I would just as soon have walked around on my own.
The guide book claims that these walls are second only to The great wall of China in length but apart from that they are unspectacular. I suppose at the end of the day a wall’s a wall I stood on the black basalt structure and looked out at an impressive view as the ground sloped away down to the river Tigris below. The river banks close to Diyarbakir are heavily cultivated and form quite a strong contrast with the dull brown. land beyond stretching away to the horizon. Diyarbakir itself is a bustling modern city but the children again are constantly begging, an occupation now familiar in these Eastern provinces We were glad to press on to sanliurfa that night and on the way saw more evidence of the regions poverty in the sight of women washing clothes at the riverside dressed in traditional looking costume.
Sanliurfa – Tuesday 14th August
We arrived in Sanliurfa intending to spend a few hours then continue on that night but found a lovely city full of character yet unspoiled by tourism. The bazaar was like none we had ever seen before with butchers shops displaying sheep’s trachaea and lungs and other bits of viscera in their un-refrigerated windows and carpet shops owned by very friendly vendors who were quite content to sit and let us come to them rather than dragging us in with promises of tea or magic carpet rides. The narrow lanes 
were covered over with arched stone ceilings or temporary fabric and corrugated iron awnings the result was a narrow dark maze full of shops with goods spilling onto the path and shafts of light stabbing down occasionally lighting up a table of goods. We found a small square with a cafe full of locals drinking coffee and tea whilst playing backgammon. Andy joined one of the groups and I strolled off to explore more of the market. When I returned, Andy was in full swing with the old blokes, getting soundly thrashed at backgammon and drinking Kave (Turkish coffee – delicious). So we sat for a while and talked with them whilst not underst-andi.ng a word they were saying and vice versa I guess, which seemed to amuse them immensely.
While wandering around we were led up some stairs to a cave like shop under an arched ceiling where a tailor sold Andy a pair of the Turkish trousers with a huge baggy crotch. I tried some on but the legs only came to just below my knees, so for the sake of my own self respect I declined to buy any. The shopkeeper did insist however that we try on his Arab style headdresses and we had to photograph ourselves with him and promise to send him copies. Most shopkeepers had pictures of tourists dotted around and regularly took out pictures of their “English girlfriends” to show us along with letters they had been sent and I assume this is how they got them.
We found a carpet seller with a tiny shop down one of the lanes who we almost had to force to sell us anything. His prices were, I think, the cheapest we had encountered in Turkey and Andy and I bought small Kilim type fabrics which had at one time been Bedouin pillows and were beautifully coloured and patterned.
Later on we strolled on up to the citadel which overlooked the town apparently an old crusader fortification since Sanliurfa used to be the capital of a large crusader county called Edessa. There was not much left and it was too dark for photographs so we just sat on the edge of the walls and enjoyed the peaceful twilight.
For our dinner we sat in a cafe beside some pools of sacred carp which had something to do with Mohammed, though I am not exactly sure what, and watched the bats flying around the trees.
Our bus was not due to leave until around ten o’clock that evening so while we sat at the bus depot I had my hair cut by a young lad who seemed to be an army hairdresser much to the amusement of the soldiers around, but it must have been one of the best haircuts I’ve ever had.
I think we both wished we had spent more time here and less perhaps in Diyarbakir but considering our whole trip was more or less made up as we went along I think we had done pretty well so far. We were now only a few miles from the Syrian border but had already decided not to bother trying to make the crossing so we planned to head for the Mediterranean coast for another spell on the beach before leaving Turkey. (This is something I have sort of regretted ever since as I have not had the opportunity to visit Syria and in the current political climate I am unlikely to)
After an exhausting journey to Antalya taking all night and much of the day we found Antalya had nothing to offer us (well the bus depot didn’t and you can tell a lot from a bus depot!) so after sitting around the depot for a while we set off again. It was a four hour journey to Kas mostly along a spectacular coastline of precipitous Cliffs along the edge of which the road wound in tight bends making a journey in excess of 900km. We were very glad to get oft at the other end!
Thursday 16th August
We took our time finding a decent pension in Kas and settled on a pleasant one with a sort of shack on the roof with a gas cooker which we could use giving us the chance to have some choice in our food for a couple of days. I think we spent the rest of the day sleeping after our marathon coach journey.
Friday 17th August
Kas is a small coastal town, quite pleasant with a few shops including a second hand book shop but no beach. We caught a Dolmus which took us a few miles along the coast to Capudas beach, a small cove below tall cliffs the only access being a twisting stepped path. It was completely isolated with no buildings or cafes in sight, in fact the only way to get a drink was from the beach peddlers who walked along chanting “bira fanta cola sprite” and “sandiwich”. It was almost idyllic but far too hot with the high cliffs eliminating any chance of a breeze. My overriding memory of Capudas was being so hot the sweat poured off me so I would dive into the sea and cool off beautifully but within minutes of returning to the beach the sun had dried the seawater and I was soaked again with sweat.
Saturday 18th August
Almost every day since we had been in Turkey we had started the day with hard toast or bread with little triangles of cheese, packets of butter and jam accompanied by tomato and cucumber washed down with a cup of tea with no milk, but today we made ourselves a good breakfast of scrambled egg and fried bread on our little stove. Luxury.
We Just lounged around today though we did explore the rocky shoreline close to town which had some totally ignored ruins amongst the undergrowth. Turkey does seem to be covered in ancient remains just lying around forgotten. I think they have more history than they can cope with. Our lazy day was topped off with a dinner we cooked for ourselves of steak with mashed potatoes peas and carrots, then we headed off to the pub for a beer where we chatted to some English girls who were working at the bar all summer to pay for- their stay in Turkey. This seemed like a good idea but I would sooner travel the way we Were with no work and a constant change of scenery.
Sunday 19th August
Another day sat by the sea on Capudas beach listening to the same three tapes I had been playing for over a month and reading the most boring book ever written cataloguing in great detail the lives of some people living in Iceland or Greenland who seemed to spend all their time suffering from illnesses and dying from them, but my tan was exceptional
This morning we caught the bus for Marmaris and continued along the treacherous coast road whilst Watching people on motorbikes cruising past and envying them their freedom to come and go as they pleased.
Marmaris really is touristville. It was somehow comforting to be back in ‘civilisation’ after the basics of the East but I was sad to be back amongst all the commercialisation that goes with these more western regions. Everywhere you look are leather, silver and fake antique shops selling inlaid wooden boxes or furniture, flintlock pistols and water pipes of all sizes not to mention the ubiquitous carpet shops. We visited one last carpet shop to have a cup of apple tea and watch the salesmen hold cigarette lighters against their silk carpets to prove their authenticity. Later on we bought our terry tickets to Rhodes then spent the last of our Turkish money on a decent meal consisting of Octopus salad I think, with chips and a beer before heading back to our shabby room.
Our ferry left Marmaris sometime around midday and, as we said goodbye to Turkey, sailed off on our third boat trip across a beautiful blue sea passing some picturesque islands and peninsulas before reaching open sea and pulling into Rhodes harbour after a couple of hours Journey.
Laden down with our rucksacks we set off roughly in the direction of town hoping to find a hotel which would let us sleep on its roof, a practice recommended in most guide books and by most people I knew who had been to Greece. However it transpired that this was now illegal and we would probably have to rent a room which was going to cost a lot more than we were used to paying in Turkey. Luckily though, we found a hotel down a small side street in the modern part of town where the old lady who owned it agreed to let us stay on one of her balconies very cheaply so long as we promised not to tell anyone. She was so friendly, always wanting to talk, and would even let us use one of the spare bathrooms for our showers. Glad to drop our packs we accepted and dumped our stuff before setting off to explore the town.
We found a small shop that made up hot sandwiches with a filling of your own choice from cheese, ham, tuna, salad etc which we made a regular haunt glad to get some tasty food after our deprivations in Turkey for so long. Sleeping on the balcony was fine if slightly hard but surprisingly bug free and with plenty of fresh air.
Wednesday 22nd August
Just along the alley from our hotel we found a Swedish bakery from which we could buy croissants, chocolate milk and Greek style yoghurt. That was breakfast sorted out for the rest of our stay and I could not remember eating so well for months (and once we arrived at the Kibbutz, not for months afterwards!)
We spent most of the day on Rhodes beach, a fairly packed place where there was occasionally trouble between rival beach users, some of whom wanted to play games regardless of who they splattered with sand or hit with their toys, and those who just wanted to lie there irradiating themselves, Quite amusing to watch but then so were the numerous scantily clad Scandinavian women who seemed to constitute most of the holidaymakers here.
An evening of bar hopping was in order today so we set off around the modern town trying not to get lost though most of the life was close to our hotel, easy stumbling distance.
Thursday 23rd August
I had more or less had enough of beaches for a the time being so While Andy went to the beach I caught a bus to visit Kamiros, a ruin a few miles along the coast. The scenery is much the same as in Turkey though I think the people were a little wealthier which showed in the houses and cars I passed along the way. The bus dropped me off at the bottom of a long winding road which ran up the side of a hill through pine trees and olive plantations to the ruin. KAmiros itself is supposed to be a very important ruin both due to it’s past status as a centre of civilisation and its impressive remains but, perhaps I had been spoiled by what I had seen in Turkey, maybe I had just had enough of ruins, mean there is only so much rock you can look at and still summon up enthusiasm. Then on the other hand perhaps it was just a boring ruin. Whatever, I had soon had enough, there just seemed to be a mass of low walls split down the middle by a street with a low platform at the top and a couple of areas of flat rock at the bottom, so I headed back down the road and caught the next bus back to town in time to join Andy for some sunbathing.
Friday 24th August
The old town of Rhodes looked fairly interesting so We set off for a wander to see if we could find any artistic photo opportunities.
The walls can be followed for a little while which give pleasant views of the town and there are a few backstreets with quaint doorways and courtyards but most of the place has been modernised and had shops set up in little market. places all very picturesque and attractive for the tourists. Its a. shame we didn’t have more time to spend on the island because apparently there are some really nice coastal villages and beaches away from the humdrum activity of Rhodes town. As It was we were due at the kibbutz in a few days so we booked our tickets and prepared to leave the next day.
The last month and a half had been spent in very hot dry locations without so much as a cloud to threaten rain and I remember thinking how nice it would be to feel some cool refreshing rain again, but there was little hope of that for some time yet.
Saturday 25th August
In the morning we wandered. into town just for something to do since our ferry didn’t leave until around five that afternoon and we were at a small lace fabric market just beside one of the city gates when it grew dark and the air was filled with raindrops. The shopkeepers began covering their wares so we wandered off and sheltered under the arch of a gate to wait for it to ease off.
Anyway we stood there for perhaps half an hour while the rain grew heavier and heavier until it was lashing down vertically with no wind at all just lots of water. Eventually fed up with waiting we squelched off into town in our shorts, carrying our shoes, thinking it had to stop soon. It didn’t so we returned to our hotel where luckily our bags were under some cover so had remained dry.
It was now getting close to time for our ferry and in order to try and save our luggage from a soaking we managed to buy some black bin bags to cover them and even contrived to fashion some attractive waterproof garments for ourselves. We were resigned to getting a soaking so headed for the harbour dressed in black plastic at which point I discovered what I had suspected all along, that suede shoes are not at all waterproof and go a funny shape when wet, they’re fine for wandering about when it is 40 degrees in the shade but perform quite badly as Wellingtons.
The Journey to Cyprus was not looking good since we had no rooms on board but were traveling deck class which meant a night under the stars in the middle of the Mediterranean. Fortunately, soon after we had boarded the rain stopped and the sun came out which was just as well since all the decks were soaked and despite our efforts we had been unable to find a place below decks to shelter even in apparently disused corridors which we were thrown out of by irate crewmembers.
That night we ate some sandwiches made up for us by another really friendly lady who served in the Swedish bakery, then I fell asleep quite easily despite the ships vibration and the hard deck.
For a long while the coast of Cyprus slipped past with very little to see until we finally arrived at Limassol and were allowed off for eight hours to look around. Cyprus uses its own currency despite being part of Greece but we had some Greek money left which they accepted as well and took a bus ride (on the correct (left) side of the road for once) into town. On the boat we had met an English lad named Joe who was traveling by bike to Israel, so he came with us and we ate in a Thai restaurant with Joe recommending dishes since he had been to Thailand and claimed to know everything there was to know, about Thai food, so long as it was the one dish he had eaten out there. The meal was delicious and paid for on (Andy’s) plastic to save changing money.
I thought Limassol looked very expensive, quite boring and seemed almost deserted so perhaps everyone else felt the same, but it is hard to tell in eight hours! We set off on time and spent our last few hours of traveling that night watching the stars, on a calm sea with clear skies and a gentle breeze whilst sailing slowly towards Haifa.
I awoke that morning and watched the lights of Israel’s shore drawing closer in the early morning darkness with a little trepidation. It was six years since I had been to Kibbutz Hazorea and I could not be sure what it was like any more, were my memories of the place distorted with time? Were the people as friendly as I recalled? and worse still, from now on we were going to have to work for a living!
Our first taste of Israeli officialdom was gained on the ferry where we were quizzed by security and immigration who wanted to know where we were going to stay, how long for, what we were going to do in Israel and so on. Finally we were allowed off and saw Joe ride away with his luggage, a bag not much bigger than a football, after a bike ride across Europe and Turkey! Fantasic.
Once through immigration we walked for ages to find the bus station then caught the appropriate bus for the three quarters of an hour trip via Yoqneam to Hazorea. We started walking through the bushes and gardens of the kibbutz trying to find someone to direct us to the Vol-lounge when we came across a man who asked if he could help. He looked amazed that we were volunteers, laughed and said all the other volunteers had left, then walked off. Things were looking good!
Epilogue
The time spent at the kibbutz is difficult to catalogue since I made no notes of what we did or where we went so I’m going to finish this account here. There are plenty of things which stand out in my mind though, such as meeting the two French girls, our hike to Acre and later on visiting sites such as the Dome of the Rock,
Valley of Jehosephat and the old city walls in Jerusalem, climbing Masada and floating in the Dead sea. Eating Falafel, Schawarma and Ben & Jerries ice cream. It’s impossible to forget the Mexican lads, Simon, Ricky, Eran and Danny or the Volunteer trip to the Negev in those Suzuki Samuris with them and Jane from Sheffield. Andy was a good friend during those months I’m just sorry we have lost touch.
I quite often recall working on the Pardes with Saadia, mending the irrigation pipes, digging ditches and eventually picking the Pomelites and grapefruit. Life was good those day for sure if not wet and smelly at times as the irrigation water came from the fish farm, in fact we probably worked harder in the gym than anywhere else.
The disco on Friday nights had to be the ultimate though and we both did well with meeting The Ulpanists. I remember Larry Dilman the Turkish guy who could speak five languages, had written a book, was good looking (if you like that kind of thing) and could even dance. We expected him to be a complete git but it turned out he was one of the nicest people there, and the girls loved him.
I didn’t go on to Egypt as I should. To be honest I was still enjoying the Kibbutz too much but I twisted an ankle the night before we were to leave, probably didn’t really have enough money left anyway, and Andy carried on alone. The next time I saw him was about four or five weeks later which was a surprise, I really thought he was heading straight back to the UK. When Andy walked into the disco that night he was completely spaced out and I was never sure whether it was due to exhaustion, or to much dope from Dahab!
I even stayed on two other Kibbutzim with Mia Franschman (Now married) We spent a night at one Kibbutz and left because it just wasn’t as friendly as what we were used to and one of the jobs there was trimming turkey beaks! We stayed a while at Kibbutz Ein Gedi, very nice indeed but we had been spoiled by Hazorea which was like a little paradise up there near Haifa so left to return to Hazorea after a week or so.
I worked on a building site for a few days at Eilat (and drew this picture of Aqaba to prove why I am no artist!
) but that really wasn’t for me so returned to Hazorea before finally deciding it was time to go home and join the real world again.
I had a brilliant time altogether but I don’t think I will stay on a kibbutz again, I’m far too old for that now, time for luxury travel and accommodation with no more tomato and cucumber. But then there is still that trip to Syria and Jordan….
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