2007 Turkey 1

Turkey 1

Journal kept by Susan Hanes during a trip around Turkey from September 17– October 19, 2007. Photos by Susan Hanes and George Leonard, copyright 2007. Volume 1.

Cover: Church of St. Saviour in Chora

Turkey September 17-October 19, 2007 Turkey: land of East meets West, the bridge between Europe and Asia. Perhaps no other country in the world brings together the sum of mankind the way that Turkey does. If it isn’t the Cradle of Civilization, it surely is part of its nursery. In the month that we spent there, we had the opportunity to experience the diverse richness that Turkey offers. From isolated Georgian churches to cavernous urban mosques, from the classic ruins of cities past to towns teeming with the business of life, from lazy fishing villages to the lunar landscape of Cappadocia, Turkey revealed herself to us. Our visit coincided with the holy month of Ramazan, allowing us rare experiences along the more than 8,000 kilometers that Jake drove. Throughout our visit we were impressed by the uniform friendliness and helpfulness of virtually everyone with whom we came in contact.

Volume 1

Sunday, September 16

En Route

We are off at last, flying on Air France over a snowfield of clouds far below, on the first leg of our journey to Istanbul. Fortunately, got to O’Hare in plenty of time, for the line through security was out of control. Amazing that a major airport could be so ill-equipped to cope with the crowds. Once on the plane, settled into our bulkhead seats—and waited. An hour later, took off into a brilliant blue September sky, bound for Paris. Heading east, we watched the sky turning gold, red, and purple at the horizon as we rushed into the sunset.

Istanbul may or may not be the world’s most magnificent city, but it is certainly the most magnificently situated. Over the centuries it has been described as the pole to which the world turns, the envy of kings, city of the world’s desire. “O city of Istanbul, priceless and peerless!” rhapsodized the eighteenthcentury Ottoman poet Nedim. “I would sacrifice all Persia for one of your stones.”

—Orhan Pamuk

Monday, September 17

to Istanbul

We arrived at de Gaulle at 9:00 AM, just in time for a bomb scare; we were held back while the area was cordoned off. Eventually, were sent back through security. I was prepared for inter-Europe travel this time and consolidated my purse into my carry-on as only one item per person is allowed in the cabin. Found our seats—row 29 of a total of 29 rows, with seats that didn’t recline. At least they were near the bathroom. Two and a half choppy hours later, we landed in Istanbul. Purchased visa stamps for $20 each, passed passport control and collected our bags. Exiting the secure area, saw crowds of people waiting, holding signs.

I spotted a man holding “George Leonard” and we met the driver sent by our hotel. He helped us with the ATM and Jake’s SIM card for the phone, and we were on our way to Sultanahmet where we had reservations at Ibrahim Pasha. The driver did an impressive job negotiating the van through the narrow passageways and had his work cut out for him when he met a large truck coming the other way. A little patience and a lot of bullying got the truck backing down the street.

Our small room had an intriguing view of the domed rooftops of the adjacent museum and a mosque. As we stood in the open window, the call to prayer boomed over the loud speakers. Neat—but not sure it will be that great hearing it five times a day. Walked down the hill to the grounds of the Sultan Ahmet Camii, or Blue Mosque, so named for the blue Iznik tiles that line the interior. There are over 20,000 of them, high on the walls. We removed our shoes and I wore a headscarf, as the rules demand. The huge red carpet that covered the interior floor was clean and soft. Don’t know whether I was more interested in the architecture or the people—men, old women and children who poured through the doorways. Emerging, I noticed a series of faucets along the outside of the courtyard where the men washed their faces, arms, necks, feet, mouths and noses in preparation for prayers. In the gardens, crowds gathered as sunset marked the end of the day’s fast. Young boys shot pucks on air hockey tables, children rode on mechanized cars and girls checked out jewelry and scarves for sale that were displayed in the grass. Vendors sold doner kebaps, cotton candy, popcorn, roasted chestnuts, and corn on the cob; the smells were divine.

Dinner reservations were at Balikci Sabahattin, a popular fish restaurant, a ten-minute walk from our hotel. Sat outside and chose from a huge tray of mezas that included mussels and brown rice, aubergine, seaweed, fish salad, and zucchini in yoghurt sauce. Shared a delicate blue fish.

Noticed several people at other tables pointing and looking up—we smelled smoke and realized that there was a fire next to the restaurant. A man on an upper floor of the adjacent building was pouring pitchers of water out of the window in a vain effort to douse the flames. The fire department arrived with two big trucks, closely followed by a TV crew. While Jake continued to sip his wine, I went out and took pictures of all the excitement: the firemen unrolling their hoses, the camera crew interviewing the diners, the groups of bystanders who were themselves taking pictures. We shared an apricot and ice cream dessert, paid our bill and headed back to the hotel, passing the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia, both ablaze with lights. Even more people were out in the streets, celebrating the start of the month of Ramazan. Back in our room, the sounds of music, traffic, shouts and calls reminded us that we are in the vital, bustling city of Istanbul. A full day: two major cities, a bomb threat and a fire. We should sleep well!

Tuesday, September 18

Istanbul

A jarringly loud—and long—call to prayer woke me up at 5:00. Jake somehow managed to sleep through it. I got up long enough to take a photo of the silhouette of the mosque at sunrise and then went back to bed. Got up to a cool, clear morning with a fresh breeze blowing in the window and the sound of seagulls calling to each other. Breakfast at the hotel was bountiful and included spinach and potato pastries, cheeses, olives, fruit and the best yoghurt imaginable (full fat). Turkish tea in glasses—strong and delicious. Then off to the Blue Mosque again to take more pictures. Across Sultanahmet Square to Hagia Sophia, joining masses of Italian and German tourists at this wonder, built in 537 and still standing firm despite countless wars and earthquakes. Beautiful mosaics; one in particular from the 6thC depicts Constantine and Justinian offering the city and the church to Christ. In 1453 the church was converted to a mosque when the Turks captured the city. The mosaics were plastered over and Islamic elements and calligraphic roundels were added. Tried to capture the magnificence of the building in pictures—an impossible task.

Hagia Sophia a UNESCO site

Dodged streetcars to cross over to Yerebatan Saray, the Basilica Cistern. With 336 pillars supporting the roof, it was built by the Byzantines in the 4th century. Haunting to walk along the wooden walk, the dimly illuminated columns reflected in the dark waters. Two giant Medusa heads are carved at the base of two of them—one is upside down and one on her side—relics of an earlier Greek building.

Visited the Museum of Turkish and Islamic Arts, located in a palace built by Ibrahim Pasha (c. 1493-1536) across from our hotel, concentrating on their collection of carpets. Played the “What would you take out under your coat?” game and agreed on a choice. In the afternoon, walked to the Kapali Carsi (Grand Bazaar), a fantasy of Eastern opulence ever since its founding in 1461 by Sultan Mehmet II. The Jeweler’s Street on the market’s southern edge was sparkling with gold and precious stones. More than 220,000 pounds of gold is traded there annually. Saw carpet sellers, notoriously aggressive but good-natured. Pottery and scarves and knockoff handbags, and lots of glass “evil eyes.” Ic Bedesten, the original building where slaves were once traded, is now the center for antique jewelry, artifacts, icons, calligraphy and textiles. I bought a silver asyk (heart shaped) pendant with detailed work and a red agate set in the center, made in Turkmenistan around the turn of the last century. Jake looked at a silk ekot robe. Exited the bazaar at the Beyazit Gate, that bears the Arabic inscription, God loves Tradesmen.

Took a “TAKSI” to the Misir Carsisi (Egyptian Bazaar), otherwise known as the Spice Market—colorful piles of spices, bags of pepper, mountains of figs, dates and all manner of dried fruits. Countless stalls of Turkish Delight; signs advertising “Turkish Viagra.” Wandered through the bazaar savoring sights and smells as the wares changed from spices to candies and to jeans, pitchforks, ribbon, and plastic watering cans. Once outside, climbed uphill, passing what must have been the cheap toy section of town and dodging traffic as the sidewalk either disappeared or was used for parking.

Reached Suleymaniye Mosque, one of the finest creations of Sinan, the Ottoman Empire’s great architect. Listened to the call to prayer in the courtyard and visited Sinan’s tomb while we waited to enter. Jake made silly faces at an appreciative little boy outside who had escaped his mother’s watchful eye during prayers. Eventually she caught up with him but not before Jake had snapped his picture. Marveled at the calligraphy and the stained glass windows inside—the mosque has great beauty and lightness in spite of its size. A white-knuckle taxi ride brought us back to Sultanahmet Square. Preparations were underway for the evening’s Ramazan festivities.

Pleasant (and uneventful) dinner at Giritli, another seafood specialty restaurant within walking distance of our hotel. Did a little shopping on the way home at a store that made bags of old Kilim rugs. Enjoyed watching people out enjoying the beautiful weather and the chance to share food and drink together.

Suleymaniye Mosque a UNESCO site

Wednesday, September 19

Istanbul

An early start, hoping to beat the crowds at Topkapi Palace, built by Mehmet II following his conquest of Constantinople in 1459-65. In fact, got there a half-hour before the opening of the palace and an hour before the harem opened. A little standing around was worth it, for we were the first to enter the harem and had the opportunity to walk through that surreal world by ourselves. The maze of narrow corridors, the softly lighted rooms embellished with blue and turquoise Iznik tiles, the views of the Bosphorus from the elegant terraces, were all the more evocative by being ours alone.

We joined throngs of tour groups—predominately Italian—to walk through the treasury rooms with their ostentatious displays of jewelry and great rocks of emerald, ruby and diamond. The grounds were beautifully kept, with ancient trees and beds of begonias and yellow daisies.

Topkapi Palace a UNESCO site

Returned to the hotel to figure out the rest of the day. Deciding to take the ferry down the Bosphorus, taxied to the terminal but discovered that the winter schedule was already in effect and we had missed it. Opted instead for a 90-minute sightseeing cruise that took us up as far as the Rumeli Hisan (Fortress of Europe). Cruised by the gleaming Dolmabahce Palace, where I could see the massive white iron gates before which my father had photographed me 55 years ago. Passed under the Ataturk Bridge, built in 1973 to link Europe and Asia. I looked for the yali where we stayed in 1952, but most of these houses were in terrible disrepair if they were there at all. One had the sense that this magnificent waterfront was surprisingly underdeveloped. Beautiful waterside areas were home to parking lots, burned out structures and cheaply-constructed restaurants. An exception was the village of Ortakoy, near the bridge, with its Ottoman homes along the shore. A pleasant afternoon—temperature about perfect, the sun shining brightly.

Dolmabahce Palace

Disembarked near the Spice Market and returned to pick up some pistachios, dates, and dried apricots (the dates were the best.) Visited another Sinan masterpiece, the Rustem Pasha Mosque, built in 1561 and located adjacent to the market. Tucked into a corner of a narrow street, the entrance was far from imposing and we mistakenly started to enter an area that was clearly for men only. Ascending dark and narrow steps, we found ourselves on a terrace above, at the entrance. The mosque was commissioned by the daughter of Suleyman the Magnificent in memory of her husband and blazes with beautiful Iznik tiles, inside and out. A young man chanted scripture—a lovely, lilting sound. As we were leaving, the imam introduced himself and insisted that we take a copy of the Koran with us. He said that it was a gift on the occasion of Ramazan, and dog-eared a page for us to read that mentioned Jesus and Mary. We descended the steps and re-emerged into the world. Another taxi—this one, slowed to a crawl in rush hour congestion—brought us back to the hotel where we sampled our purchases, as well as the bottle of Turkish red wine that had been placed in our room when we checked in.

Rustem Pasha Mosque

Following the suggestion of the desk clerk, waited until 7:30 to take a taxi to

“genial host,” sat in the open window, a cigarette dangling from his lips,

our dinner reservations in Beyoglu. He pointed out that those following the

watching the proceedings with an expressionless gaze. We were then told that

Ramazan fast cannot eat until sundown and there is a mad dash on the roads

we would be seated inside for the cold mezas and then could move outside

to get home to the dinner table by 7:20, the time of sunset. Thus, at 7:30, the

for the main part of the meal. We were shown into a brightly lighted room full

roads should be empty. They were. We flew down the hill of Sultanahmet,

of empty tables and seated between the only two tables that were occupied.

crossed the bridge, and in no time were on “the other side,” the heart of

As the occupants of both tables were all smoking, we asked to move and

European Istanbul. After three days in the historic area, it was interesting to

were then seated at a small table at the back of the room, totally without

see another face of the city. We had reservations at Refik, billed as a true

character. The meal was basic at best, but we made the most of our situation.

meyhane or tavern. Actually, it was described in Lonely Planet as the original

Surely old Refik was flying on a reputation from the dusty past. We finished

meyhane: “A convivial cubbyhole, famous for its genial host, who will make you

dinner, including a glass of raki for Jake and a small glass of wine for me

feel welcome the moment you set foot through the door.” We arrived at 8:00

(another guide had mentioned “the free-flowing wine and bohemian

and found Refik buried within the maze of narrow pedestrian alleys in the

clientele.”) Walking down the alley, passed one after another dark and cozy

area. Tables were set out in crowded profusion and we requested a place

nooks and stopped for glasses of Turkish tea at one place on the corner.

outside in the lively scene. We were told that they were all reserved. We said

There were crowds of young people everywhere. The scene could have been

that we had reservations. We were then told that the tables outside were

London or Amsterdam or Berlin. It was interesting to think that across the

only for parties of four although there were several couples seated. We said

bridge, another world was celebrating the end of a day of prayer and fasting

again that we would like to be seated outside and again we were told that

by sharing a family meal on the lawn of the Blue Mosque. We were getting a

none of the open tables were available. During this exchange, Refik, our

sense of the amazing diversity of Istanbul.

Thursday, September 20

Istanbul

An extra move this morning, to the Turkeman Hotel next door, as the Ibrahim Pasha was unable to accommodate us for a forth night. A bit of a hassle to stuff everything into our bags, as we will have to re-pack everything in preparation for our respective departures in the morning. After checking into the new hotel— clean and Spartan—took a taxi to the Edirnekapi area to see the Byzantine art at the Church of St. Saviour in Chora. Our driver climbed a steep hill, made a series of impossible turns at breakneck speed, and deposited us at the gate. We paid for our tickets, walked around to the entrance at the side and were blown away by what we saw—more than 100 magnificent mosaics and frescoes that were created in the early 14th century in this 11th century church. They were absolutely stunning—royal blue and gold highlighted the faces of Jesus, Mary, and John the Baptist. Every surface was covered with brilliant color. Paused in the pleasant courtyard for a Coke before finding another taxi to return us to the area near the Grand Bazaar.

Church of St. Saviour in Chora

Traffic was slow, giving us the chance to see street after street of shops from

washed my hair and massaged my head and shoulders. Finally, I was doused

every corner of the world—German technology outlets, Russian clothing

with buckets of warm water until I was squeaky clean. She took my hand and

emporia, Euro boutiques, Turkish cafes, and unidentified places with signs in

led me out of the room; I was wearing only my wet underpants and orange

Arabic. We got off at Vezir Hani and continued on foot to the Cemberlitas

plastic slippers. This was probably something of a surprise to the ladies

Hamam. These historic baths were designed by Sinan and built in 1584. We

preparing to enter the steam hall. My attendant wrapped me up in a large

had read about having a Turkish bath and decided to try it—with a feeling of

green towel and sent me back to the locker area to get dressed. I found Jake

trepidation as we stepped through the entry, for we had no idea what to

in the waiting area and we compared experiences, determining that although

expect. We each purchased a “traditional” package, the mid-priced option at

the process is similar for men and women, the men were afforded more

40 YTL, and were given a square chip marked “massage.” At that point we

modesty and privacy, as they had private dressing rooms and they never

separated, Jake ascending the stairs while I entered a corridor across from the

removed their towels from around their waists.

entrance. There I was met by a young woman who gave me a key and a cloth resembling a large dish towel. She pointed out one of the lockers lining the wall and told me to disrobe and wrap the towel around myself. I did as I was told, shedding my clothes—except for underpants—and tied the cloth over my chest. I was led down the hall and told to enter the bath. There I should lie down for 15 minutes and someone would come for me. I pushed open the wooden door and found myself in a large domed room, lighted only by a series of star-like skylights. The room was entirely of marble, with a huge marble platform dominating the center. Around the walls were a series of marble sinks with decorative brass faucets. There were also a number of alcoves radiating from the main room, with large marble tubs. When I entered, I found a dozen women lying on the marble table, using their wraps as a sort of beach towel. Three attendants, clad only in bikini pants themselves, were busy scrubbing and soaping three women lying in front of them. I spread out my towel and lay down in the steamy room to wait my turn, hoping I wouldn’t faint in the heat. After a half hour, a large, heavily endowed woman signaled to me that I was on. She motioned for me to position myself along the edge of the table and she went to work on me with the scrubbing mitt; first on my backside, then on my front. This was followed by a generous soaping with copious amounts of pleasant-smelling suds which she generated by forcing soapy water though what appeared to be a pillow case. She then guided me to one of the sinks and indicated that I should sit down on my towel. She

Cemberlitas Hamam

Feeling relaxed and exhilarated after our adventure, we returned to the Grand Bazaar. I wanted to locate a shop that carried jewelry designed by Gurhan, now popular with movie stars, Oprah, and Hillary Clinton. With a lot of help from several friendly people, found Umit Berksoy just inside the old bazaar, where he has been for 40 years. A most genial fellow, he was delighted to show us beautiful pieces by Gurhan, as well as his own work. We were there several hours and I left purchasing a necklace of turquoise and gold beads.

Umit ordered earrings to match, which I will pick up upon our return to Istanbul in October. We also discussed his designing a necklace for me, using old agate signet seals—an intriguing idea. The sky looked dark as we left the bazaar and we hurried back to the hotel, missing the rain. Preparations for the evening’s Ramazan activities were well underway around the Blue Mosque.

We’ve enjoyed witnessing the festivities each evening. At 7:30, set out again with a taxi taking us over the bridge to Beyoglu where our reservations were at Cezayir, an Ottoman estate in an impossible location. Our driver had to stop for directions three times before driving up and down and around the warren of alleys and lanes, finally delivering us at the door of the old house.

main dishes were innovative too: bulgar wheat paella for Jake and wild

Once we got there, went up a flight of worn marble stairs and then down

mushrooms, peppers and blue cheese ravioli for me. Finished off the meal

several more flights before descending into a most attractive garden

with aryan (a yoghurt drink, very salty—I did not like it at all) and apple tea.

environment. Had a lovely meal with imaginative mezas—aubergine flowers

The taxi we found to take us back to Sultanahmet obviously knew the area

with pomegranate sauce, purslane and yoghurt, sea bass ginger ceviche. Our

well and shot us back in no time.

Friday, September 21

to Safranbolu

Morning came early as the alarm and the imam’s prayer call went off just after 5:00. We packed and organized our things for the days we’ll be separated. While I went by taxi to Ataturk Airport for my flight to Germany, Jake enjoyed the view of Sultanahmet Square and the Blue Mosque from the breakfast room on the upper floor of the Turkeman Hotel.

At 9:00 he took a taxi to pick up his rental car. It was a challenge to find the car rental agency, which, contrary to its web site, was not in downtown Istanbul but in a gated community in the suburbs. Although difficult to find, it provided easy access to the expressway out of town. He picked up his Renault Megane diesel and was immediately entangled in congestion on the bridge crossing the Bosphorus to Asia.

He proceeded east for 300 kilometers by toll road toward Safranbolu, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, through a desolate industrialized area. About 100 kilometers west of Safranbolu he left the toll road and arrived at his destination around 2:00 pm. Safranbolu is a city of 32,000 which is located in a pretty valley and which has two major sights: an old town of traditional Ottoman houses and the Cinci Han, a 17th century caravanserai that has been converted into the hotel where Jake had reservations. Although the hotel dominated its surroundings and was easy to spot from the main road through town, it was difficult to reach. Roads were narrow, trucks blocked some routes, and he was concerned that the rocky roadbed might damage the undercarriage of the car. The Cinci Han is square threestory building with massive windowless walls and a central courtyard covered with awnings to provide shade. His lodgings consisted of two rooms on the second floor, little changed by renovation and both with original domed ceilings. After checking in, he walked to the nearby bazaar where he took pictures of bakers making pide bread and a woman preparing grape leaves for her restaurant. He explored the streets with Ottoman houses, and noted that although many had been restored, others remained in a state of disrepair. He had dinner at the hotel, where he was served a simple Ramazan meal.

Safranbolu

a UNESCO Site

Saturday, September 22

to Amasya

After breakfast, Jake toured the stalls of the Saturday market located in an open area behind the hotel. Departing at 9:30, he drove to Amasya, a distance of 380 kilometers. After about 60 kilometers, he arrived at Kastamonu, a pleasant city of 64,000 with a citadel built on a tall cliff above the town. Because the roads were poorly marked he had some problems determining the route through town. Arriving in Amasya at around 2:00, he again had difficulties getting to his hotel. Although he could see the Grand Pasha Hotel, a 120-year old Ottoman house located on the other side of the Yeshilirmak River, he searched in vain for a way to access it. He finally parked about 300 meters away and walked to the hotel. When he arrived, he was given directions that enabled him to park outside the hotel entrance. He was disappointed to find that his room was a little shabby. He went for a walk along the river promenade, looking at the restored Ottoman houses lining the river and at the 4th century tombs of the Pontic kings cut deep into the cliffs above. The promenade was crowded with people enjoying the pleasant weather and patronizing sellers of roasted ears of corn and cotton candy. He visited two mosques, the Gok Mederse (Mosque of the Sky-Blue Seminary) that was completed in 1267 and the larger Sultan Beyazit Camii dating from 1486.

Returning to the hotel, he went to dinner at 7:00 but discovered that being Ramazan and before sunset, he was virtually alone for a disappointing meal.

After dinner, he went for another walk, finding the houses and tombs beautifully illuminated. A crowd had gathered for a musical performance taking place near the river promenade and he stopped to watch before returning to he hotel for the evening.

Amasya

Sunday, September 23

to Trabzon

Jake awoke to a light rain. He drove northeast to the Black Sea and followed the coast road toward Trabzon. The coast was unattractive, with dreary beaches and downscale commercial development. At around 2:30, he arrived in Trabzon, a city of 215,000 located on a series of hills. It is the largest port along the eastern coast of Turkey. For more than 1 ½ hours he tried to locate his hotel, unsuccessfully negotiating winding, crowded one-way streets. He finally wrote the name of his hotel on a slip of paper, got out of the car and showed it to a group of people. One of the individuals in the group volunteered to get in the car and show him the way. He acknowledged that, although the hotel was nearby, he never would have found it on his own. Although the Horon Hotel is a fourstar establishment, it had no particular charm. He registered at 4:00 and left the car for the hotel staff to park. He then took a taxi to the Aya Sophia Museum, originally a Byzantine church completed in 1263. The church is set within a walled compound that includes an ancient Ottoman cemetery and commands a view of the Black Sea. Interesting 13th century sculptures are located above the entrances and the interior is decorated with an important series of frescoes in excellent condition. Jake spent more than an hour at Aya Sophia before trying to find a taxi to get back to the hotel. Having no luck, he asked a group of men where he could get a taxi. They told him that none served the area and suggested that he take a dolmus, one of the small vans running on set routes that are the most prevalent form of transportation in Turkey. He paid a fare of 1 YTL (his taxi fare to Aya Sophia had been 20 YTL) and rode back to the town center.

When he got off the dolmus one of the other passengers led him several blocks back to his hotel. This was one of many instances where Jake experienced the hospitality and generosity of Turkish people. Arriving back at his room by 6:00, he went to the hotel restaurant at 7:00 and again found that the restaurant was virtually deserted. He had another simple Ramazan meal by himself. As he was finishing, he was joined by a group coming to watch a soccer match on a large TV in the corner.

Aya Sophia Museum Trabzon

Monday, September 24

Trabzon

On another dreary day Jake drove 50 kilometers to Sumela Monastery on difficult roads. He arrived by 9:00 and parked the car. He had a long walk uphill for several hundred meters and was practically alone as he made his way up the uneven path in a swirling mist. The Greek Orthodox monastery is especially noted for its magical setting, as it clings to a sheer rock wall high above evergreen forests. As he ascended the steep flight of steps up the rock face to the monastery complex, Jake saw a gentleman with a long beard in black clerical robes.

When he motioned with his camera and asked if he might take the priest’s picture he answered, “If you wish� in perfect, accent-free English. He told Jake that he was from Greece. Jake walked the grounds, taking lots of pictures in the hazy light. The main chapel was a highlight, covered inside and out with colorful but defaced frescoes. A couple of small tour groups arrived as he was leaving, one of them an English group that he would run into again the following day in Artvin.

Returning to the hotel by noon, he determined to correct the problem that had made him unable to receive calls on his Razr cell phone. At a large Turkcell store he found an English-speaking salesman and was told that the SIM card that we had purchased on arrival at the Istanbul airport would not work in the Razr and had far fewer minutes than we had paid for. Therefore, in order to comply with Turkish phone requirements, it was necessary for him to buy another phone and additional minutes. Afterwards he walked the commercial area of Trabzon, briefly stopping at the Russian market. At 7:00, he located two restaurants that he had read about, but was disappointed to discover that both were closed for Ramazan and he settled for a simple meal at a storefront cafe.

Semela Monastery

Tuesday, September 25

to Artvin

Early in the morning Jake continued drove east along the Black Sea in misty weather. He noted fishing trawlers and shipping activity. After 50 kilometers, he turned south on the road to Ispir and began to climb from sea level through a lush green landscape. As he ascended through fog, the road became steeper, extensive portions were under construction or in poor condition, and he had to pay close attention to his driving. When the fog lifted, it was sunny and arid hills with little vegetation were revealed. Flocks of sheep and simple stone houses dotted the hills. At Ispir he again turned east toward Yusefeli. The road narrowed with unpaved sections and he was concerned that he might damage the car. He was amused that centerlines were painted on the road where two cars could not pass. As he drove through the Coruh River Valley, the road became more precipitous. There were no guardrails and there was frequent evidence of recent rockslides. He passed local women herding cattle and sheep and saw rickety houses cantilevered off the cliffs above the road.

Coruh River Valley

Leaving the Yusefeli road at 2:00, he took an even more treacherous “road� to reach the Dortkilise, a ruined 10th century Georgian monastery. Since it was not visible from the road, he might have driven past it had he not seen two vans and a car with Georgian plates parked on the shoulder. As he started walking, he came upon a group of Georgian students who had been picnicking nearby. He circled the exterior of the church, noting its cruciform plan and similarity to Romanesque churches in Western Europe. The interior was strewn with rubble from the roof that had once supported a tower at the crossing.

Dortkilise Church

He returned to the car and continued another 10 kilometers to Yusufeli, but was further delayed by paving work on the road. As was after 4:00, he realized that he would be unable to see three additional Georgian churches that he had planned to visit that day. As he continued through the Kackar Mountains, the landscape became more dramatic. He saw simple dwellings, many of which had multiple satellite TV dishes. He encountered a new road that had been blasted out of the mountainside to facilitate access to a massive dam being constructed in the area and arrived at Artvin at dusk. The main road took him through town by a series of hairpin curves that he negotiated as he tried to look for the Karahan Hotel. He was able to find it with less difficulty than on previous evenings. Although it was only a two-star hotel, he was given a large and pleasant room. At 7:30 he went down to the dining room where he was able to select from an extensive buffet laid out for a British tour group that he had encountered the day before at Sumela. In spite of a light rain, he took a short walk after dinner, passing groups of worshipers leaving a mosque, before returning to his room to watch an Arabic TV program before bed.

Wednesday, September 26

to Kars

Jake awoke to a beautiful morning. At breakfast the leader of the British tour group advised him that the roads he would travel that day were much better than he had encountered the day before. Accordingly, he determined that he would visit the three churches that he had hoped to see previous the day. He retraced his route. Near Yusefeli turned off onto a steep, single-lane road in order to ascend to the surprisingly verdant plateau where the 8th century Georgian church of Ishan is located in a village of the same name. The exterior of the church featured a cylindrical central tower surmounted by an intact conical dome and geometric sculptural detail. Inside, an arcade of horseshoe arches lined the apse and supported interesting capitals. Although the interior was in a state of disrepair, delicate blue frescoes were still evident.

Ishan

Jake returned to the road toward Erzurum and drove south to Oskvank, a Georgian cathedral built in the late 10th century.

Located in the center of a small town, the church has figurative details inside and out. The interior was in disrepair but he saw angels and other interesting figures carved on the columns. The dome had survived but the roof had not. A modern mosque had been built next to the cathedral and there was no evidence that the cathedral had ever been used as a mosque.

Oskvank

Returning to the main road, he drove another 30 kilometers to Haho, a 10th century monastery complex. A new roof of corrugated steel enabled the church to be used as a home and the interior was therefore not accessible. The exterior was also disappointing because tree branches and other vegetation obscured the facade and carvings of eagles and other animals.

Haho

It was 2:30 when he left Haho, retraced the route toward Yuselfeli, and drove a further 200 kilometers to Kars. Although he was concerned about road conditions, the landscape became less rugged and the road markedly improved as he proceeded east. He drove from mountainous terrain through progressively greener hills to flat grazing land. He was able to make good time and arrived in Kars at 5:00. A grid system of streets constructed by the Russians during their occupation of Kars in the late 19th century facilitated finding Kars Hotel. Situated in a restored Russian home, the hotel was constructed of thick stone walls that appeared drab from the outside but revealed a modern and comfortable interior. His room had a flat-screen TV, modern bath fixtures, and quality bedding. When he went downstairs to the dining room at 7:30, he discovered that it was already filled. After complying with a staff suggestion that he put on a warm coat, he was shown to a table in an adjoining courtyard. No one else was dining in the courtyard and the door to the restaurant was soon shut to keep out the chill. The menu was intended to be sophisticated international fare of schnitzel, pasta and Chef Orhan’s hamburgers and he was disappointed by the lack of Turkish dishes.

Kars Hotel

Thursday, September 27

Kars

Following a pleasant breakfast at the hotel, Jake set out for Ani. After some initial difficulty finding the road, (Turks tends not to recognize Armenian influences in their country nor facilitate access to them) he was pleased that it was in generally good condition. He arrived at Ani about 9:30, encountering few other visitors. Upon passing through the fortified walls surrounding the city, he found a vast plain strewn with building rubble next to the river that marks the present border with Armenia. Designated the capital of Armenia in 961, Ani was a great city with numerous significant buildings. In 1319 an earthquake toppled many of them and since then they have been slowly crumbling away. As Lonely Planet writes, “Wrecks of great stone buildings adrift on a sea of undulating grass.” Jake said that it was hard to imagine that this barren spot once supported 100,000 people and was a rival of Constantinople and Baghdad. He walked among the stones and ruined churches, lamenting that so little remained of Ani’s former glory. Within the city walls, a citadel occupied by the military was enclosed within a fence and designated “Forbidden.” In the center of Ani stands an 11th century Seljuk mosque, the first built in Anatolia. Jake went through six or seven different buildings, noting their exterior decorations and extensive carvings in Armenian script.

Ani

Ani

a UNESCO site

He returned to the car at about 11:30 and was confronted by a man trying to get a ride to Kars. Jake agreed to drive him half way where he would depart the main road in order to see two other Armenian churches. The first, Oguzlu, a 10th century church, was located in the middle of a small farming community. The road to it was terrible and signage was worse.

After making his way up a rutted tractor path he saw the ruins next to a large haystack.

Ten treacherous kilometers away he found Kizil Kilise or Karmir Vank, another Armenian church which was in better condition. It too was located in a farmyard but its interior was locked since it was being used for storage. Farm implements were stacked against its outside walls. The farmer appeared and accompanied Jake as he looked around. He realized why the farmer had joined him moments later when he saw a large dog, barking and viciously straining at his chains.

Karmir Vank

Jake quickly moved on. He returned to Kars by 2:00 and decided to visit the citadel above the city and to buy some of the honey for which Kars is known. Walking around the city, he noted that interspersed among the shops and store fronts were many late 19th century greystone buildings built during the Russian occupation, some of which had been adapted to new uses and many that were in a sad state of disrepair. Hoping to get a seat in the dining room, Jake went down to dinner at 7:00, but once again found that it was full. Although he was offered the same table in the courtyard, he got a recommendation for a Turkish restaurant in the area where he had a very good meal at significantly lower cost than the night before.

Kars Fortress

Friday, September 28

to Van

Jake got away by 9:00, driving south from Kars towards Van, paralleling the Iranian border. He was looking forward to seeing Mt. Ararat, the legendary site of the landing of Noah’s Ark and a mountain held sacred by the Armenians. When he located the mountain in the distance, it stood alone, capped with snow and dominating the view.

Mt. Ararat

Ishak Pasha Palace

He was glad that he had stopped to take pictures when he did, for when he reached Dogubayazet, Mt. Ararat was obscured by nearby hills and no longer visible. In Dogubayazet, a city of 36,000, he again found himself on narrow roads cluttered with handcarts, donkey carts, cars, trucks, vans and buses. He drove through the town with difficulty and proceeded southeast toward the Ishak Pasha Palace, perched on a small plateau abutting stark cliffs. The palace was completed in 1784 and is a blend of Seljuk, Ottoman, Georgian, Persian and Armenian styles. After taking pictures of its many sculptural details, he retraced his route through Dogubayazet and passed within 3 kilometers of the Iranian border as he continued south on good roads. He was stopped by military police at roadblocks on several occasions. However, when he showed his passport he was promptly allowed to proceed. He said that in no instance did he feel concerned or intimidated.

On his way to Van, he visited the Muradiye waterfalls. Crossing over on a rickety suspension bridge, he stopped to take pictures of the falls. He was soon paralleling Lake Van, the largest lake in Turkey, reaching the city of Van by 2:30. He had hoped to tour the citadel, perched more than 300 meters above the city, but learned that he would have to climb to the top. After he had gone more than a third of the way, he decided that the trek wasn’t worth the effort and decided to find his hotel. However, an erroneous Lonely Planet map resulted in an hour and a half delay as he tried unsuccessfully to locate the Hotel Tamara. He finally got proper directions to the hotel, a four-star establishment with good facilities. After unsuccessfully attempting to find a recommended restaurant in the neighborhood, he decided to dine at the hotel. This proved to be a wise decision for he enjoyed a delicious buffet of Turkish specialties.

Muradiye Waterfalls

Van Citadel

Journal kept by Susan Hanes during a trip around Turkey from September 17– October 19, 2007.

Photos by Susan Hanes and George Leonard, copyright 2007. Volume 1.

V. 1