After my weird few days in Svaneti and Shekvetili I returned to Batumi for a night. From here I was travelling to Gormaduli. After asking around at the bus station and being pointed in the right direction several times, I found the right marshrutka to Gormaduli. It already seemed very full of stuff - big bags of onions and pasta and flour, and general luggage. I squeezed myself and my bag on and we set off. Everyone on the bus was Georgian, except one Ukrainian guy who spoke english. It was the most bizarre bus journey so far. We picked up lots of people on the way, until the bus was definitely at capacity. But then we still picked up people and squeezed them on. We kept stopping for what seemed to be errands. We stopped at a gas station and one man filled up a gas canister. We stopped at a bakery and everyone on the bus bought several loaves of fresh bread. I wasn’t complaining about this one though, it made the whole bus smell like freshly baked bread, and the lady next to me gave me some of hers to nibble on. This was the first of my bus snacks. A little while later we stopped at a shop, and the lady next to me bought me a lollipop which was cool. The less cool bit was the near-constant brushes with death, with the bus driver driving like an absolute lunatic. I’d say I’m used to crazy drivers after the last few months and my time in the balkans, but this was something else. The passengers near me kept asking if I was okay after each near head-on collision, so I clearly looked quite concerned. But we didn’t die, and before I knew it (not really, it was a long journey) we were departing from the main road to head into the mountains. The road was insane, nothing more than a muddy track most of the time, and we often had to do 3-point turns to make the hairpin corners. At one point we went up the smallest, steepest dirt track and I thought there’s no way that this is the road. Google maps agreed with me. Turns out we were driving up to a ladies house to drop her and all of her shopping off at the door. Still no complaining from me though, as she brought out a tray with crystal glasses and a jug of homemade juice for us all. The bus zoomed onwards and we continued to drop people off in the middle of nowhere, with huge amounts of groceries. We also delivered some of the bags of bread to other houses in the area. Eventually we made it to my stop: Gormaduli Dao Space. A retreat centre in the mountains where I’m doing a workaway for the next few weeks. Victoria was there to greet me (and the Ukrainian man, turns out he was coming here too!), alongside two guys sat on tree stumps playing drums. It’s a really cool place. Five ski chalet style houses and a bigger building in a row, in the middle of nowhere in the mountains. The most beautiful setting! There are kittens, and a pregnant dog that’s about to give birth. There are 8 other volunteers and they’re all really great and interesting people. Expect a very interesting post on this experience once I’ve finished here!
My bus refreshments:
I couldn’t face the marshrutka journey back to Batumi in one go so decided to spend a night along the black sea en route. After a quick google I found that Kobuleti was the main town but quite touristy, and Shekvetili was a more naturey area. Naturally I chose Shekvetili, a choice cemented by the fact there was a hotel that was only £13 a night. I got chucked out of the marshrutka at Shekvitili in the pouring rain. I got my raincoat out of my bag, and put the waterproof cover over it before setting off into the town. It was at this point I started to wish I’d done a bit more research first. It was an absolute ghost town. Clearly a beach resort only, and now out of season it was truly dead. I walked past closed restaurants and hotels before reaching the beach and finding my hotel (thankfully open!). I checked in and watched the torrential rain out of the double doors to my balcony, at least it was a very nice room. I asked the owner if anywhere was open for food, and he said the supermarkets. I got into my bikini and headed out in search of food for later and to go for a swim. It had stopped raining, and the sun was starting to peak through. After walking for 45 minutes and checking on 4 supermarkets I came up short. No food. Rice cakes and marmite it was! I found a nice spot to swim and undressed. Stood on the desolate beach, in the gale force winds, looking out at brown, rough sea I did question what on earth I was doing. So did the stray dog I’d picked up on my way. But as soon as I was submerged in the water, the cooling sea grounding me, and the sun emerging from the clouds to shine on my skin, I felt ecstatic. I plunged my head under, coming up spluttering, submerged by a wave. I splashed around for a bit before getting out and getting changed. I walked barefoot the rest of the way back to the hotel, looking at my feet in the black, magnetic sand. I wish I had had a magnet to see if it really was magnetic. Back at the hotel I washed off my feet before traipsing upstairs. I met the owner and explained the supermarkets were closed. He offered me food, and I gladly accepted. He rustled up some salami, a mustard like dip, bread and no less than 5 boiled eggs for me! I spent the rest of the day holed up in my room, enjoying a hot shower, watching a film and just relaxing.
This was almost a disaster - a completely dead town with nowhere to get food. But it turned out alright, I enjoyed some food kindly cooked up for me and a quiet evening in relaxing.
After bidding farewell to my travel companions in Turkey I caught the bus from Hopa across the Georgian border to Batumi; entering my 16th country of the trip! The border was the strangest yet, reminding me of an airport terminal, and it was very confusing. I spent two nights in Batumi and it’s a strange city, reminding me of San Francisco (lots of colourful, hip shops and cafes), Brighton (it’s on the sea and has a pier) and a Scandinavian city (very clean and sleek). It served as the biggest contrast between neighbouring countries yet, with it being starkly different from Eastern Turkey. It felt a lot more European, and the only indicator that it wasn’t were the plethora of second hand stores advertising “Clothes from Europe - H&M, Zara!”. My time here was spent frantically searching for winter clothes and planning my next moves in coffee shops, enjoying all of the non-turkish coffee. After two nights I was ready, I’d decided to go up to the highest part of Georgia to do some hiking.
The area is called Svaneti and it’s right up by the Russian border (with some big mountains in between!). The people there are culturally distinct from Georgians, calling themselves Svans and with their own language called Svan. The most characteristic remnant of this culture are the Svan towers which cover the landscape, seen all over each little town. They were built as defensive dwellings, and were used by the families in family versus family conflicts in the area. They are often part of houses, and are still lived in today. The isolated nature of the location means the cultural heritage has been preserved extremely well, and it felt very different to the rest of Georgia. It did also make it a pain in the arse to get to. It took two marshrutkas (minibuses) and a total of 8 hours. If you want to avoid the bus journey you can actually fly to Mestia from Tbilisi. My guesthouse in Mestia was lovely, I had a double bed in a cosy private room, the shower was hot and good, and it was only £11.50 a night. The little man running it was awkward but helpful, and I felt quite bonded to him by the end. I think he felt the same, giving me tea and cake on my last day. Mestia is the main town in upper Svaneti and you could tell, it had a proper main street with several restaurants and cafes. It was the end of the hiking season so it was very quiet, with a lot of things already shut for the winter. There were other tourists there, mostly digital nomads (there are a lot of these in Georgia) and a few hikers.
The initial reason I wanted to come to Svaneti was to do a four day hike from Mestia to Ushguli, it’s pretty well known and is meant to be an amazing hike. The week before I arrived in Mestia the first snow of winter came and more was forecasted whilst I was there. Surprisingly, the hike was still possible but it would be more difficult and a lot colder. I didn’t fancy taking it on by myself, especially with more snow coming, so I opted for two day hikes instead. The first was up to the Koruldi lakes above Mestia, or more accurately, up as far as I could get to them with the snow. It was all uphill, first through the woods to a large cross on the hill with an observation deck, and then up further until the snow was too deep to continue. It was a total elevation gain of around 1500 metres. My fears of being cold were immediately washed away, with me stripping up off all my layers after about 10 minutes of walking up the steep path, already getting sweaty. The clouds were lingering at the start of the day, but this meant I had the most amazing show at the top - watching the clouds rise up and reveal the mountains. Seeing proper snow was exciting as always. The autumnal colours were rich, they made up for not seeing any until now. Autumn is my favourite season, I felt very happy to be able to spend some of it in a place with orange leaves and freshness. My second hike was the first leg of the four day Ushguli hike, from Mestia to Zhabeshi. This was my favourite hike of the trip so far, it was just perfect. The weather was ideal, fresh but sunny. The scenery was outstanding, bright orange trees, snowy mountains, tiny villages (with more Svan towers). I didn’t meet a single other hiker. At the highest point, with views of mountains both in front and behind me, I did some yoga and took some time to really appreciate my surroundings. When I’m hiking alone I alternate between walking in silence, happy to just be in nature and let my thoughts run, listening to audiobooks or podcasts, and listening to music. Here’s what I take with me on my hikes, I hope the colour matching is as satisfying to you as it was to me:
After 18km I reached Zhabeshi. This was a much smaller village than Mestia, with just guesthouses along a muddy road. As I entered a man called out to me, offering me a room at his guesthouse, with dinner and breakfast for 40 lari (£13). I turned him down, saying I already had one booked. I got to the guesthouse I’d booked the previous day, and was told by the lady that she had family visiting so didn’t have any space, but she’d sort somewhere else out for me. I told her not to worry, and went back to the man who called out to me. He made me tea and showed me to my room, but I realised I was the only person there with the guy that ran it, and a younger man. This made me feel a tad uncomfortable (I had reached my limit of male interactions but I’ll explain that later), so I decided to look for an alternative place. I found one with good google reviews very close by, and when I went to take a look I spotted the old lady (Dodo) who owned it outside. I asked her if I could stay and she said of course, when I asked how much it would be she shrugged and asked how much I’d like to pay. I went back to collect my bag, explaining to the man that I was very sorry but was going to stay elsewhere, telling a little lie and saying it was because the place I’d booked did have space… Oven (the guy) was actually very nice about it, giving me a hug and saying he would drive me to Mestia tomorrow. I felt a lot more comfortable with Dodo, and my room was nicer too, so I guess it was third time lucky! I walked up to the church in the village, but it was locked. At this point, I’d crossed the same muddy bridge four times, and the men working on the new bridge found this funny and struck up conversation. They didn’t speak english so it was through miming. The kids playing while the men worked were very cute, and all looked very similar - dark hair and dark eyes. I had a quick shower before it was time to eat. The dinner Dodo made for me was absolutely delicious. A plate of tomatoes with Svaneti salt which was just amazing. It’s not really salt, but a mixture of spices (at least 7) that has an almost indian style taste. It was used in Svaneti to make their salt reserves last longer, and is now used across all of Georgia. Dodo makes her own, like everyone here, and proudly showed me her jar when I complimented it. A plate of fried potatoes, wonderfully salted and perfect for dipping in the aioli aubergine dip which was also very tasty. My first Khachapuri, as delicious as bread filled with cheese and little mashed potatoes sounds. A plate of normal bread, that I didn’t touch. A bowl of bean soup, nothing too special but very warming, and of course this also included potatoes. In total, five forms of carbs, definitely not a meal for the dieting person! Dodo was apologetic that it was all she could rustle up on short notice, I was almost scared to imagine how much food she’d have made for me if she had longer! The next morning, after getting ready I went downstairs to find my breakfast already on the table, a lot of food once more. Another plate of tomatoes with Svaneti salt, some salami and an egg, khachapuri, two huge slices of cake, normal bread and a jar of homemade strawberry jam. I didn’t touch the bread again. The jam was delicious, not too sweet and very tasty. I only had a mouthful of the cake, which was very nice, and packaged the rest up to take with me. I chatted to Dodo for a bit in their little, very cosy kitchen (heated from the wooden stove in the centre). She insisted I take the rest of the khachapuri with me, after I complimented her on it. She told me about where she learnt english, by reading a lot, and the fact she used to be a teacher. She had been running the guesthouse for 10 years, spending her summers in Zhabeshi and her winters in Tbilisi. Georgians weren’t happy about the increasing number of Russians moving to the country. She wasn’t worried about Russia invading Svaneti. She made her khachapuri with potatoes because the just cheese one wasn’t as nice in her opinion. I paid 50 lari, thinking £15 was more than fair for everything she’d provided. I packed my bag and headed out, deciding not to take Oven up on his offer of a lift and instead to hitchhike. The first car that passed me was a little truck, as it flew past I was confused at seeing a child driving. Then I remembered that it would be left-hand drive here. As I walked past the now stopped truck I saw that no, I was right the first time! It was a right-hand drive for some reason, and a small boy was driving. The next car that drove past was driven by one of the men who was building the bridge the previous day, and his little boy. I ended up getting a lift with them, all the way into Mestia.
The rest of my time in the mountains was spent learning about Svaneti culture and writing in cosy restaurants. I went to the Ethnology museum in Mestia, which was fairly insightful. Even better was going to the little cinema to see Dede, a film about Svaneti filmed in Ushguli and starring a lot of local people. The cinema only showed this film, five times a day everyday. It was a lot better than I expected and I learnt a lot about Svaneti culture from it (mostly how insanely sexist it was). Mestia was such a strange place, I would love to see it in peak season but for now the bougie cafes serving fancy oatmeal bowls seemed so out of step with the surroundings.
My time in Svaneti was really wonderful but also very strange, almost like a fever dream. I’m not sure if there was something in the air, or if I was just the only young woman around, but the reaction of men was very intense. I bumped into one local guy up by the lakes and he gave me his number. I wasn’t going to text him but later that evening I bumped into him on my way to dinner, and then again on my way back to the guesthouse! Either Mestia was a very small town or this man was stalking me. When I turned down his offer of going to an isolated tower for sunset he got quite stroppy over text with me which was funny, but proved my bad gut feeling about him was right. I went to the same restaurant for dinner each evening and I could feel one of the guys there staring at me constantly. Eventually he dropped a piece of rolled up paper on my table, which read ‘YoU aRe SO bEauTiFul’. I’m not sure what the random capitalisation was about, and I’m certain this was a reusable note as he took it back after a bit. I had to fight off men trying to pick me up whilst I was walking on the road for a bit near the end of my hike. What struck me wasn’t the advances, but the way that these men looked at me, with such wide eyes always. It wasn’t just men either, Dodo looked at me the same way, often commenting on how beautiful I was. It was a little unnerving but quite amusing.
Svaneti was perhaps the strangest place I’ve visited so far, but thinking about it makes me really smile. It was such a fun experience, and it was the perfect way to get back into travelling alone.
When I planned my route for this year there were some countries that I really wanted to visit and was excited for, and others that were just on the way. Turkey fell into that second category. And it has made me even more grateful that I decided to do this route, because it has proven the point that sometimes the unassuming, zero expectation places can be the most wonderful. My view of Turkey before this trip wasn’t particularly positive. I saw it as a not very nice beach destination. I didn’t know anything about its culture, or food, or history. I had no idea just how rich it was in all of those areas. The people here have been unbelievable open and kind and generous. The history has been insane, with us arguably seeing some of the most important sights in human history. The food has been delightful and fun, with every place having its own specialities, especially in terms of desserts. I’ve had so many memorable experiences here. I don’t even know what to include in this post, there’s so much to say. I’m going to try and share with you some of the highlights (and lowlights of course), and attempt to communicate the essence of my experience here. It’s a place that you should visit at least once in your life. But it’s not my favourite country, I’m not in love with it, and I won’t be rushing back to it.
Our route:
This was our first stop and where I met up with Thalia and Helena. I had my own hotel room for the night which was a wonderful change from hostels. Gaziantep (or Antep as its locally known) is famous for food. It has the best Baklava in the world. It’s the major producer of pistachios so it’s also famous for any pistachio based products (which there are a lot of, you’d be surprised with how much they manage to do with one nut!). Wandering through the bazaar we saw, and sampled, all of them. Bazaars are characterised by huge barrels of products out in the open, and it’s perfectly acceptable to help yourself to these to try. I tried a fresh pistachio for the first time, peeling the soft coating to reveal the shell and then the nut, it tasted very different to dried pistachios. My favourite pistachio item was a pistachio mash sweet, it wasn’t particularly sweet but had an intense pistachio flavour. I ate a lot in my short stay in Antep, and I can confirm that the food really was incredible. Beyond eating, we visited the Mosaic museum, which is the largest in the world, and we saw the famous Gypsy Girl mosaic (which might actually not be a girl, but in fact Alexander the Great).
My favourite local interaction in Antep was with our hotel owner. He invited us to drink tea with him and asked us about our trip. In response to our answer, the google translate voice read out “freedom is beautiful”. Simple and quite funny.
Speciality dessert: Katmer. A sort of hot pancake filled with cheese and pistachios and syrup. Served with milk. (And Baklava of course!)
We got a taxi to the bus station in Antep, and then a bus to Sanliufa and another taxi into the centre and to our hotel (this is the procedure every time!). The taxis are interesting here, for the one in Sanliurfa the driver pulled over and three children jumped into the front seat to join us for the ride. Like Antep, Sanliurfa has a nickname which is Urfa. Our first impressions of Urfa weren’t very positive, we were stared at a lot as we walked down the main street towards to bazaar, and the dark, dirty buildings gave an oppressing feel. The bazaar was also strange and didn’t have the same happy vibe as previous ones had. This impression changed when we emerged from the bazaar into an oasis. There was a beautiful light-coloured square with a mosque, and the colours from the sunset made it glow. We placed our headscarfs on and entered the mosque, ready to see an important religious site: the cave where the prophet Abraham was born and lived for the first 15 years of his life. It was quite impressive, and very strange. People washed their hands in the ‘holy’ water from the taps and wet their faces with it. Close by we came across a beautiful park, with a small lake and a river that led to a larger lake. These were filled with fish (carp we found out). They lakes also had religious significance, with the larger one having supposedly formed when King Nimrod burned Abraham alive at the location, and the smaller one when he did the same to his daughter who was Abraham’s fiance.
On our second visit to the bazaar we enjoyed it a lot more. We drank pistachio coffee (remember what I said about them making all sorts from it!) in the big square in the centre of the madness, and enjoyed food in a little shop much to the man’s excitement. We watched as he called over his friends from across the bazaar to see the three women in his shop. He even asked for a photo of us with the sheep head stew.
Gobeklitepe
The reason we’d come to Urfa was to see Gobeklitepe. Now this place is historically insane. It is the oldest religious site in the world, by 6,000 years! When it was discovered in 1994 it changed our entire understanding of human evolution and history. Until Gobeklitepe it was thought that agriculture led to civilisations which led to religion. But Gobeklitepe, a religious site, was built before farming and agriculture began, turning this idea on its head. Instead, it suggests that religion led to civilisation, which in turn led to agriculture. I’m not fully convinced by this explanation however. I struggle to follow the logic that a huge group of people settled in one place knowing they couldn’t sustain themselves with their current lifestyle, to build a large religious structure, with the apparent hope that they would find some way to sustain themselves. I find it hard to believe they would attempt this without any knowledge of a potential way to sustain themselves, and for them to be so lucky as to stumble across farming and for it to work - with crops not yet being domesticated. But anyway, the site is incredibly important in human history and a bit mysterious, with the prehistoric people burying the site and leaving 1,000 years after construction began. As of 2021, less than 5% of Gobeklitepe has been discovered, so maybe more clarity will come. The site is 20km away from the city, and we got a taxi there and managed to hitchhike back. In the city there is the Sanliurfa Archeological Museum which gives wider context to Gobeklitepe and the region in general, it was a really well done museum.
Harran
Harran is another site of interest near to Urfa, and we got a taxi here. It’s a small town close to the Syrian border, where there are still traditional beehive mud houses. The houses were very interesting, but the overall experience wasn’t great. We were hassled a lot by men who wanted to be our ‘tour guides’. The town was clearly very poor, filled with Syrian refugees, so we understood the men’s desperation but it was quite aggressive. It was a very hot day, and the environment was so dry and like a wasteland. Our taxi driver tried to rip us off as well, so all in all it was a bit of an ordeal! In a dramatic change of vibe, back in Urfa we spent the evening at a traditional music and dinner night. It was a really wonderful evening. The music was great, the food was plentiful and delicious (salad with dips, soup, köfte and stuffed dried vegetables, kebab, Çiğ köfte (ceremoniously made), kunefe. And ayran (a salty yogurt drink) and lots of tea. The Çiğ köfte was made in front of everyone by the chef, with him kneading the bulgur, spices and raw meat together, alongside the music and dancing. We joined in with the dancing of course.
Speciality dessert: Şıllık. A crepe-like pancake filled with cheese and pistachios, served cold and drenched in syrup. I was not a fan!
Our bus to Mardin from Urfa was late and took an extra hour which meant we arrived quite late into the city. We were all feeling exhausted when we got to our hotel, so the news that there was an issue with the room we’d booked and they needed to add an extra bed to a different room for us (delivered through google translate which added to the confusion) was not happily received. As we sat waiting, we witnessed a whole bed being pulled up from the downstairs courtyard, and wedged into the room. It was quite comical. Our first impressions of Mardin were that it was a lot more touristy than Urfa, albeit Turkish tourists. But this still meant it felt less conservative and we got stared at a lot less. The old town has one big main street which cars can drive down in one direction, and lots of narrow streets with steps branching off. There are no cars on these, but several horses and donkeys ladled with goods. The buildings are all made from the same light coloured limestone. We visited an orthodox church, a protestant church and a mosque. It was interesting to compare the vibe from all of them. They all feel very similar to me. A lot of the stores in the bazaar were closed but it was, as always, fun to wander around it. It felt a lot more touristy than the previous bazaars. The stand out products were blue sugared almonds and soap. There were also a lot of bakeries selling walnut biscuits which we learnt are a Syrian food. The other major product from Mardin is wine. Up until this point we hadn’t seen any alcohol at all in the East, so it was quite exciting to see all of the wine shops. One evening we went into one to try them. They are Assyrian wine, and they didn’t taste at all like the wine I was familiar with. The reds were very fruity and heavily spiced, reminding me more of mulled wine. The owner, Baris, told us lots of information about the wines. While sampling them, a friend of Baris came in and joined us. He was called Ufuk and he offered to show us around the following day. The following morning we decided that we had all got good vibes from him so took him up on his offer. Ufuk picked us up and we were all shocked by the car - a very fancy blue one with a red stripe, it was a Dodge. We drove first to Dara (stopping briefly at a monastery on the way), a town with an underground city carved into the rock. Sadly, it was closed! Ufuk had an idea however, and we set off to Midyat. The drive took us right along the Syrian border. It was a strange experience driving in the fancy Dodge, listening to heat waves by glass animals, looking out the window and seeing the barbed wire of the Syrian border. We stopped at a place for lunch which was right on the river, with the tables built over it meaning you could sit with your feet dangling in the water and see the water flowing underneath you. Ufuk paid for everything and refused any discussion about allowing us to pay (I’ve noticed this a lot in Turkey, it’s almost seen as offensive if you try and argue). We continued to Midyat, a smaller, slightly prettier town than Mardin. Back in Mardin we returned to the wine shop, reflecting on how yesterday evening we would never have guessed how the following day would unfold and that we’d be back to the same wine shop. We went out for tea with Baris and Ufuk, I quite like how this is their version of going out for a beer in the evening. We walked back to our hotel and observed Ufuk deal with the police over a ‘small issue’ (something to do with his younger brother driving his car). Ufuk and Baris were both so lovely and I can’t thank them enough for showing us around Mardin and the local area!
Felix, Thalia and Helena’s friend from a workaway earlier in the summer, joined us on our last day in Mardin. He was travelling with a van and from this point we all travelled together in this (so no more buses or taxis in Turkey from this point!).
Speciality dessert: Blue, sugared almonds.
This city also had one main street which reminded me more of Urfa than Mardin (also because we were stared at a lot again). It had huge city walls which we climbed up and admired the rural view on the other side. Along the main street were several Hans, these are remnants of the city’s location on the Silk Road (the ancient network of trade routes across Eurasia) and are large quads with two floors. The bottom floor would be for the animals and for stalls and restaurants. The top floor would be for rooms, for the travellers and traders to sleep in. The main mosque was built with dark bricks which gave it a very oppressive feel. We walked out to the Dicle bridge which was a very large, stone bridge. The scenery was pretty, very rural feeling despite us being just a 40 minute walk from the city centre. There was a wedding party dancing on the bridge with loud music and drums. One of the women beckoned for me to join them so I did, putting my dancing practice in Urfa to good use! If you google Diyarbakir you might see results claiming it’s unsafe, due to clashes between the PKK and the Turkish Government. We didn’t see any of this. The PKK are the Kurdistan Workers’ Party. Diyarbakir is the de facto capital of Kurdistan, and hosts the largest Kurdish population in Turkey. The Kurdish conflict in Turkey is deep-rooted and complex, as seems to always be the case with ethnic issues like this. I’m not well enough educated on the issues to talk about them here, only having a vague understanding myself. I wish I had had the time to look properly into the conflict while I was here, but it’s difficult to juggle researching the ancient history, modern history, culture, food of a place, and enjoying actually being there! Some things get left behind, and sadly the Kurdish conflict was one of these for me.
We weren’t staying in a hotel in Diyarbakir, instead a friend of someone Helena knew had kindly offered us their empty apartment to stay in. It was a little outside the city, in a big flat block alongside many other identical ones, with plots of rubble where it seemed like additional blocks would soon be built. The apartment was very swanky, clearly very new. We had a wonderful few days relaxing here, fully enjoying being in a house rather than a hotel/hostel. We cooked dinner, we watched a movie, we worked out. We spent one whole day just hanging out there, something I hadn’t done for months and really enjoyed. My favourite activity was chocolate tasting. Helena has a PhD in chocolate (the genetics and chemical characterisation of flavour in cocoa to be more specific) so gave us a full chocolate tasting lesson. Before we left the comfort of the house, we cooked breakfast for the owner’s cousin who had brought us over the keys, to say thank you. It was fun to make a Turkish breakfast after eating so many, although we added our own twist, with banana oat pancakes making their way to the table.
Speciality dessert: Kadayif. Shredded-wheat-like crunchy casing around pistachio mush, with syrup, served hot. My favourite dessert so far, huge fan.
We drove two hours to a little village called Karadut, at the base of Mount Nemrut. We were planning to go up the mountain for sunset, so spent the afternoon exploring the village and discovering just how tiny it was. Whilst we were out wandering, it started to rain, and then to really rain, so we took shelter in an empty garage. An old man rode past on a donkey and then came in to join us, picking up breezeblocks for us to sit on and making conversation. Sat on the breezeblock, eating a pomegranate handed to me by a farmer earlier, watching the torrential rain, surrounded by friends and chatting to an old, very well-dressed Turkish man, I thought to myself how magical travelling is. Just before sunset we drove up the mountain, walking the final part up to the reason we’d decided to come here. On top of this mountain there are several huge statues which have been decapitated, their heads lying on the ground by their feet, on both the East and West side. The giant heads and headless bodies were really cool, but the experience was negated by the huge number of people up there, and how cold and windy it was. Behind the statues was a huge, man-made pile of stones, purportedly a burial mound of King Antiochus I, although the tomb hasn’t been found. On our walk back down the stormy sky became even more dramatic, with one cloud so black it seemed endless. The guesthouse we were staying at provided dinner and we enjoyed the most succulent chicken I’ve ever eaten. The power went out halfway through dinner, so the staff shined their phone lights on us. We spent the rest of the evening playing cards, playing guitar and chatting by gaslight, with the power coming on and going back off repeatedly.
Mount Nemrut was meant to be our final destination as a four, but happily the others became convinced to continue with me to Van! I’d take the credit for this but I think it was more the draw of Van than anything I said.
The drive from Mount Nemrut to Van was a long one, 530km. We shared the driving between us, which I loved as I’d missed driving the van at home. There were four or five military checkpoints where we had to show our passports. We didn’t have any issues with them on this drive (despite Helena, Thalia and Felix all having stayed longer than the allowed 90 days…) and often left the guards laughing in bewilderment at one Swiss, one Belgian, one English and one French person driving in a yellow van.
Van was a larger, more bustling and modern city. This meant it was uglier than previous ones, but it had a bigger selection of shops, cafes and restaurants. It’s on the largest lake in Turkey. It has a castle in ruins which was quite cool, with a good view of the lake from the top. The lake has a little island in it called Akdamar Island. We took a ferry out to this and saw the Armenian church it’s home to. I also saw several tortoises and rabbits. One of the most famous things about Van is the Van cat. This is a special breed of cat which is white with one blue eye and one green eye. We went to the Van Cat House to see them, and it was really strange. Hundreds of white cats in one room, jumping on us and meowing, it could’ve been out of a horror film and I love cats! The lake itself wasn’t that special, by the city it was a bit industrial seeming and not very clean.
Thalia flew back to Switzerland after Van sadly, leaving Helena, Felix and I to continue.
Speciality: The Van breakfast. Just a Turkish breakfast with a few added dishes. But you have to ask yourself, at what point does a breakfast have too many little dishes? I’d argue the ordinary Turkish breakfast has already reached this limit…
By far my least favourite city. Again, just one main street but this one felt equally oppressive and depressing. There’s always more men walking around than women, but I really noticed it here. Luckily we were only there for one night, and we were really there to see the Ishak Pasha Palace just outside the city. Now this was beautiful. An open style palace made of sand coloured stone, which sat so perfectly against the red mountains, and was lit up by the setting sun. Lots of intricate details had been carved into the stone, and the maze of rooms had wonderful details like fireplaces, interesting windows and pillars. It hosts a blend of Ottoman, Persian and Armenian architecture. From the palace you had a view of Mount Ararat (although it was almost entirely covered by clouds when we were there), this is the highest peak in Turkey and the supposed resting place of Noah’s Ark.
Like Dogubeyazit, the main site of interest in Kars was actually just outside it. We visited this first: the Ani Ruins. These are the ruins of a medieval Armenian city, and it was huge. Behind a big double wall stood a large, open, hilly field. Scattered around this were remnants of buildings. The field was surrounded by a river, and an empty valley on one side with caves cut into the rock. Armenia was just the other side of the river. The scenery reminded me a lot of Scotland. We spent several hours walking around the entire site, listening to the audioguide. It was crazy to think what it would’ve been like back in the day. One of my highlights was seeing the ruins of the Silk Road bridge, which marked the entrance of the Silk Road into Anatolia. Armenia say that Turkey are neglecting the site intentionally, and I have to agree with this. Compared to the other historical sites we’ve visited, this one had very little information, with the few signs that did exist being so faded and broken they were illegible. Maybe Turkey should just give it back to Armenia…
Kars itself was lovely, a nice middle ground between the modern Van and the pretty Sanliurfa. It had a cool cheese museum (a local delicacy) and a castle (not as cool as the one in Van). I had my one and only disappointing meal in Turkey here, with the traditional goose meat and rice being insanely salty and otherwise tasteless. But we also had a very good meal so I won’t hold it against Kars!
Speciality: Goose meat.
The last stop on my Turkey journey was Hopa, a little town right on the Black Sea, and very close to the Georgian border. The drive over was fun, with us ascending up into the mountains. First we saw snow in the fields next to the road, then it started to snow on us, and finally it started to settle on the road. I was driving (I always seemed to get the tricky bits of the journey!) and took it very slowly, with Felix being a very helpful copilot. We followed in the tyre tracks of a big lorry in front of us, thinking if that can make it so can we. Despite the fear factor, it was really beautiful, and as was the rest of the drive inside a gorge and then a very big tunnel. I only spent one evening in Hopa and it was a strange place. It was clearly a truck stop point, illustrated by the huge number of trucks and the multiple seedy nightclubs.
To sum up Turkey in one sentence: you will be offered tea, and if you refuse you will still be given tea.
I’m actually going to miss the tea, it’s served black and is weaker than British tea, and I really grew to like it. But the fact you’ll be given tea even if you refuse is a good example of the underlying something that I didn’t love about Turkey. Yes the people are wonderfully generous, but sometimes to the extent that it’s forceful and uncomfortable. If my “no” to tea wasn’t listened to or respected, would anything I say be adhered to? The people here are also very nationalistic, but it is illegal to say anything against the current President so I guess that makes sense. I didn’t love that! I got the impression from a lot of younger people that they were desperately jealous of us, travelling around and seeing new places. It gave me hope that in the future this generation will have the opportunity to travel and in turn mellow their conservative views. But perhaps that will also see a mellowing of their intense culture, which is arguably a loss.
Originally, I was planning to zoom through Turkey, heading quickly east to Georgia after Cappadocia. This is because a hike I want to do in Nepal can only be done between March - early December and I was imagining I’d do it in December, making me a little short of time. After thinking about it for a while I decided I was being silly, that I could do the hike in March and still have 5 months in Southeast Asia. This meant I suddenly had several months to fill before then. I decided I’d explore Eastern Turkey a bit. This is when I met Thalia, a lovely Swiss/Australian girl who was in my hostel in Cappadocia. She was also planning to explore the East, and was meeting another friend for this. Our plan was the same so we decided to travel together. There is no backpacking culture in the east, or really any international tourism culture. I now realise that there are three big obstacles to travelling around places like this, and if I hadn’t met Thalia I doubt I’d have been able to see the east as thoroughly as I have. Thalia, Helena and I travelled by bus to several cities in the southeast before being joined by another friend of theirs (they had all met at a workaway earlier in the summer). This was Felix and he had a van, a burnt orange VW T4. We travelled in this for the rest of our time together. There’s a separate post covering the places we saw and all of the travel insights, the rest of this post is about the challenges of travelling away from the backpacking trail.
The last few weeks have been perfect for me to ease into this off the beaten track style of travelling, and now I’m ready (and excited) to do more of it over the next few months.
A break from the travel posts for a bit of science.
The highlight fresh produce of my trip so far has undoubtedly been figs. Fig season begins in mid-May so basically when my trip started. As I travelled south I came across more and more of them, with them being a familiar sight at any fruit market and a nice surprise on any fig tree. They had so much more flavour than the ones in England, and I became hooked on them. It was a simple pleasure to eat something in season, and watch it slowly disappear from markets as the season ended. (Thank god for dried figs now!) But what I really love about figs is their biology.
Figs are pollinated by fig wasps, with each of the 850+ species of fig having a specific fig wasp. Figs contain both male and female flowers, which are the little stringy bits inside a fig. This makes a fig a flower not a fruit, interestingly. When a fig is ready to be pollinated it releases an aroma which attracts the corresponding fig wasp species. The female wasp, covered in pollen, crawls into the unripe fig through a small hole in the bottom and lays eggs within some of the flowers before dying inside. As it does this the wasp spreads its pollen around, pollinating the female flowers. The flowers that don’t have eggs inside form seeds. As the fig matures, male wasps emerge from their eggs first and find female wasps which they fertilise while still inside their flowers. The males then dig escape tunnels for the females and die. The females escape through the tunnels, taking pollen from the male flowers. The female flies to another fig tree in search of an unripe fig to lay her eggs in, delivering the pollen to the female flowers inside. And so the cycle continues! The reason I learnt about fig wasps during my degree was because of their use as a model organism for parasitoids, which are small insects that live off of bigger insects (like parasites). But the overall fig and fig wasp cycle is more interesting to me now. It’s a beautiful example of coevolution and a symbiotic relationship, which has existed for 90 million years. The fig cannot survive without the fig wasp, and the fig wasp cannot survive without the fig.
FIGure 1. (see what I did there): A poorly drawn diagram by me showing the life cycle.
But don’t freak out, it’s unlikely you’ll get a mouthful of dead wasps when you eat a fig! Commercially grown figs are often still pollinated by fig wasps but the deceased wasps inside are broken down by enzymes within the fig called ficain and used to provide nutrients to the fig plant. The same is true for wild figs. And some commercially grown figs are self-pollinating so no wasps are involved. But after the millions of years that fig wasps and wasps have spent perfecting their partnership it seems a shame to not involve it in growing figs today. If anyone asks “what’s the point in wasps?” you can now answer “figs”.
After a hectic last month, zooming from a holiday with friends to a holiday with my family to Istanbul with my brother (such a hard life I know…), I felt like I needed some downtime in a place with nature. I decided to skip western Turkey, being beached out after spending the whole summer in the heat and by the sea, and caught an overnight bus to the centre of the country, to Cappadocia. It’s a place famous for its hot air balloons, and these are why it was on my radar, but after researching a bit more I found it’s also a place with amazing hikes through strange valleys and with towns cut into rocks. I found a lovely looking hostel in Goreme (the main town in the area) and booked myself in for four nights. Cappadocia gave me everything I had hoped for.
Each morning I woke up at 5:30am and went to watch the balloons fly for sunrise. We went to several different spots over the few days, getting all of the different perspectives. They fly at sunrise because the wind conditions are best. This is an experience that can’t be given justice through pictures or words, but there’s a reason I got up each morning to watch them despite being tired! Afterwards I’d return to the hostel and either sleep for a bit longer, or do some yoga depending on how tired I was, before eating the breakfast provided. During the days I spent a lot of time in cafes catching up on blog writing and general travel planning, either alone or with the wonderful people I met at the hostel here. I did several amazing hikes through Pigeon Valley, Love Valley and Red Rose Valley. They have a lot of valleys here. Pigeon Valley is named after the pigeons the inhabitants would keep, using their poo as fertiliser. Love Valley is named after the penis-shaped rocks that loom over you as you walk (not even making that up!). Red Rose Valley after the red rocks. All had strange rock formations throughout, and evidence of houses that had been cut into the soft rock. Red Rose Valley in particular had several plots of vegetation scattered within, with fruit trees and chilli plants and other crops growing. I visited the open air museum and explored a town made up of dwellings cut into the rock. There were three valleys, but I only explored one, deciding that after one lot of cave houses they all looked the same. Unlike most historic things I go to see what made this one cool was not how ancient it was but how recently it was inhabited, with people living there until 1952.
The hot air balloons were the reason I came to Cappadocia, but are not the reason I loved my time there as much as I did. The reason for this is firstly the people I met. After being off the travelling road for a while I was looking forward to meeting more people, but I couldn’t have wished for a better group to meet. Everyone was so lovely and also inspiring, with such cool lifestyles and insights. Watching the balloons, hiking, working in cafes, and eating dinner would not have been anywhere near as wonderful without them (so thank you Emily, Jeff, Nick and Thalia!). The second reason is the insane geology of the place - the rock formations (called fairy chimneys), the valleys and the houses cut into the rocks. I’ve never seen anything like it before, and doubt I will again. It was like Tatooine from Star Wars. The final reason is the delicious Indian restaurant we ate at, with it being my first curry since leaving England and a meal I had really missed.
Keeping it real: the level of instagrammers at the balloons was insane. We saw people in the most dramatic dresses removing their big coats to flounce around on vintage convertible cars, posing for photos. One site was particularly busy, with off-road vehicles zooming around us and ruining the peace. The road quality was very bad in Cappadocia, perhaps because of how soft the rock is and how sandy it is? Unsure, but the roads were literally rubble or sand. When visiting a carpet shop with decadent displays, famous for being a great spot for pictures, we saw that you had to pay 12$ to take a photo there! We looked around the shop anyway. The owner then became quite rude to Emily when she was haggling for an item. Somehow, thanks to Emily’s insane bargaining and general people skills, this turned into the owner giving us food, inviting us to take photos for free, and giving us a lesson on the carpets. A less perfect experience that became something really special and enjoyable!
After waving my brother off on his bus to the airport I went to meet some girls from our hostel at a Hammam. They had been the previous day but loved it so much they were going again, and invited me to join them. We went to the Mihrimah Sultan Hamam, which is not a touristy one - no english spoken here! I’m so glad I had Juliette and Frances with me because I’d have been completely lost otherwise, having done no research on what to expect or how it all works. The experience was bemusing and strange, but also enjoyable and I left feeling the smoothest I’ve perhaps ever felt. My biggest recommendation for Istanbul would be to end your trip with a visit to a Hammam, washing off any city grime and leaving you refreshed for your flight home.
Here’s a run down of the experience:
I initially entered the men’s area and was chased out, being directed to the female entrance. So men and women are fully separated for the experience! I handed over 300 TL (around £15) and was given a cloth and a pair of sliders. I wore bikini bottoms and wrapped the cloth around me, going downstairs to the baths. What followed was a labyrinth of marble rooms with faucets from which water flowed continuously into basins around the edge of each room, and with marble slabs in the centres. I wandered through these into the main room - distinctive due to it’s huge marble octagon table in the centre and a sauna on one side. It was evident at this point that the etiquette was to hang your cloth up and exist in just bikini bottoms. Always in favour of women-only nude spaces and feeling comfortable in our bodies I was happy to join in. From the sauna I had a view of the main marble table, and could observe the process. It did look rather odd to me, a large turkish woman in a bikini scrubbing down another naked woman lying on a slab. It looked odder still when the woman was made to sit up, with her arm being held up and scrubbed. It reminded me of an elderly person being washed by a carer. After awkwardly waiting, sitting on the low marble bench that ran around the edge of the room, one of the woman doing the scrubbing was free and gestured to me. Guess it was my time. She led me through the maze to one of the smaller rooms. Juliette was already in there and was sat up on her marble slab, covered from head to toe in a dark coffee scrub looking like a mud monster. We smiled at one another before I lay face down on another marble slab as instructed. First the woman scrubbed me vigorously with an exfoliating mitt and some soap. It wasn’t painful at all, and feeling the dead skin and grime come off was quite satisfying. I was impressed with how thorough she was, scrubbing my feet and even between my bum cheeks… She slapped my arse and I took this to mean I should turn over onto my back - it was an interesting signal. The exfoliation continued on my front and she then tapped my shoulder and gestured that I should sit up. In doing so my hand brushed my stomach and I was honestly shocked at how smooth my skin now felt! She continued doing my neck and shoulders, lifting each of my arms to do my armpits. She then did my face, which I wasn’t so happy about seeing as that mitt had just been on my feet and, as I mentioned, between my bum cheeks. Whilst still sitting she filled a bowl with water from the faucet and chucked it over my head, mildly waterboarding me. She then gestured for me to stand and continued using the bowl to wash off the soap and the disgusting amount of grey worms of dead skin and dirt that were left on my body after the exfoliation. It really looked like I hadn’t properly washed in several months, which isn’t too far from the truth I suppose. Again being very thorough, she pulled my bikini bottoms out from my body to chuck water down my bum. I lay back on the slab for round two: the coffee scrub. It smelt amazing and the experience was more gentle than the first round. The whole process was repeated with this, including the slap on the arse signal and mild waterboarding. The final round was a soapy massage. My track record with massages hasn’t been great and this wasn’t much better, with her really going to town on my dodgy shoulder which was quite painful. But after months of uncomfortable hostel beds and long bus journeys it was definitely needed. I’d say I was shocked at how strong she was as she rolled her arms up and down my back, but I wasn’t. She looked very strong! Just when I thought the experience was over she applied a mud mask to my face. That really was the end, and I returned to the main room feeling incredibly smooth and slightly violated.