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You may have heard: Spring has visited London. Or at least it did, for a moment there. It’s gone back into hiding for now. The woolies were put away.
And then retrieved.
But there have been changes. We moved! Moved bedrooms, I mean. We now have the privilege of occupying the master bedroom of the house, with its picture frame windows and more space than we know what to do with. Lucky we bought that rug in Turkey, hey?
Breakfast in bed now comes with a view.
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Last weekend we went to Wales. It was lovely. Want to see? Then look:
There was Victoria sponge; practically a requisite for a good weekend, in my books.
There was a plane that almost landed on us. Or at least we tried to take the photo to make it look that way.
There was a rivery road. We drove through it.
There were fewer vowels than we are accustomed to.
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From Fethiye we wanted even smaller, even quieter and, thanks to the advice of our friendly hotel manager, we found it at Datça.
Datça is a sleepy little harbour town on a hilly peninsula just off Marmaris, and it could not have been a more perfect place to spend our last few days in Turkey - and last two nights with Helen before she left us for her own grand adventure in the Balkans.
Everything in Datça is on the harbour - even the primary school!
This is what a classic-between-the-thighs-beach-shot looks like in a mostly-Muslim country:
Though modesty isn’t exactly a requisite in this liberal town. Helen wasn’t fussed.
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Sometimes you just need the sea, you know? Especially when you live in London (or Berlin) and have gone almost a year without it - probably the longest ocean-less stint of your life. Luckily, Turkey was once again ready to help us out, offering up its endless coastline along the Mediterranean and Aegean seas. We chose a starter of Mediterranean, since it was the closest at the time.
Specifically, we chose Fethiye. It wasn’t the most beachy place to start, but we had an Emergency Travel Document to obtain from the British Consulate there so our choice was made for us. No complaints here.
As per most of the rest of our trip, we had arrived just before the ‘season’ started, which meant, on the upside, that the harbourside was blissfully quiet. On the downside, it meant that none of these pretty boats were ready to take us for a ride just yet.
So we made our own fun.
Kayaköy had been a thriving Greek Orthodox village in the hills outside of Fethiye for hundreds of years until the 1923 population exchange between Greece and Turkey meant that the 3000 residents were forced to abandon their homes and lives and flee to Greece. The village was never permanently resettled and was left to fall into ruin, so what remains now is a semi-destroyed ghost town.
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From that eastern city of Gaziantep (where we last spoke) it is a mere two hour bus ride to the city of Şanlıurfa (more commonly known as Urfa). Even further along on the conservatism scale, Urfa is home to a couple of historical delights, one of which attracts pilgrims by the dozen, the other of which we had almost to ourselves.
Have you heard of Göbekli Tepe? Neither had I. But we really should have, given its significance as the world’s oldest religious structure at around 12,000 years!
I’ll spare you the history lesson for now (see here, if you’re interested), but just know that the site has been called by many “the most important archaeological site in the world”. And the three of us made up about a third of the visitors there.
It was pretty incredible to be able to get so close to these giant, ancient structures (the pillars above stand at around 3m) and to know that there could still be so much under our feet that is yet to be discovered.
Not that the locals seemed all that bothered by it. They were too busy collecting food for their livestock.
In stark contrast to Göbekli Tepe is Urfa’s other (more famous) historical site: Abraham’s Cave, with its accompanying gardens, pools, and sacred fish.
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Eastwards we go. Not to the far East of the country, unfortunately. Twelve hours of bus travel in one day is more than enough. Thankfully there are friendly faces to greet us. Friendly, food-providing faces.
Also, friendly pastries (stuffed with cheese), ice cream (one with the region’s famous pistachios, the other caramel but studded with nuts) and sahlep (our favourite “hot drink”).
Gaziantep (or Antep, as it’s widely known) is more than a little different from Western Turkey. Only 40km from Syria, the area is much more conservative, and more of a stranger to tourism. This is not to say that we did not feel welcome, on the contrary, we felt like we were an attraction ourselves!
English is not widely spoken in Antep, but almost everywhere we went people (i.e. males of all ages) would approach us with a “hello! Where are you from?” Generally the conversation would end there but the thrill of human contact seemed to be mutual.
Life in Antep seems to be pretty traditional still, especially compared to Istanbul.
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Passports are on the way to being sorted, so it’s time for a little exploring of this otherworldy landscape that exists in Cappadocia.
There are a few people here who seem a little otherworldly too, wouldn’t you agree?
We climbed to the top of a “castle” (more like a great fortress carved out of a great rock). On the way Helen and I helped the juice man carry his pomegranates so we were rewarded with free juice and conversation. Most of our conversations with Turkish people go something like this:
“Where are you from?”
“Are you students?”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
I feel like this conversation summary undersells the friendliness somewhat. We are just astounded that almost everyone can say the first sentence in English - even if it’s all the English they know. We’ve decided it’s indicative of people’s curiosity and only wish that we could engage in conversation with them in Turkish!
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Shall we continue? We’re awfully far behind now so I think we ought to. Why not catch a ferry from one side of the Bosphorus to the other? Or (as we prefer to tell ourselves) from Europe to Asia?!
Things aren’t terribly different on the other side. If anything they are a little more modern and real-life. Because it’s far more normal to see a couple stop for a spot of target practise in the middle of their romantic seaside stroll.
The locals, as ever, are more than happy to show off their skills, both visually…
…and gastronomically. Have you tried lahmacun yet? Some people call it turkish pizza, but we think it shouldn’t be compared. Admittedly, it is a very thinly rolled piece of dough, topped with a schmear of meat, onions, parsley and spices before being baked in a (hopefully) wood-fired oven so the base becomes slightly crisp. Top with parsley and fresh lemon, roll, devour. All for less than £2.
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I know that so far we have led you to believe that Istanbul is some little secret we discovered for ourselves, devoid of tourists and the travesties they bring. I hate to break it to you, but this is most definitely not the case. Visit one of the main tourist destinations and you too could take home a delightful sultan-and-his-lady-fancy-dress-photo souvenir. I know, how could one refuse?
This particular instance was found just inside the entrance to the Basilica Cistern.
This vast underground chamber once supplied water to the great palaces of Constantinople. These days it supplies photographic fodder to thousands of tourists each day. Apparently those are Medusa heads, thought I didn’t actually get close enough to see them myself.
I wasn’t that fussed. This was much prettier:
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Breakfast time! I know, you’re still full from last night’s dinner. Don’t let that stop you! We’re on a food tour so buckle up, things are about to get hairy. Actually, no. Wrong word choice. Apologies.
We’re eating with the working men, keeping things local. Just how we like it.
Also how we like it (or at least I do): artichokes, freshly prepared and waiting just outside the door.
Now that breakfast is out of the way, it’s time for morning tea. Of course! We really are on a food tour. It’s run by Istanbul Eats and involves approximately seven hours of walking and tasting our way around the modern (-ish) centre of Beyoğlu. Our tour guide Jen is a San Franciscan who has lived in Istanbul for the last five years and somehow finds the energy to lead our group of six around the back streets, answering thousands of questions along the way. (And actually, we now know how she fuels herself, so the energy is a little easier to understand.)
