Gday all,
Well it seems it’s been some time since I last updated this blog, and for good reason; I’ve been busily tearing my way across the Mediterranean coast, shacking up in treehouses, drinking copious amounts of raki, trekking to mountain top ruins, exploring underground cities, hot air ballooning over Cappadoccia, becoming bed-ridden for days from the local water, and somehow recovering from all that to eventually end up in vibrant, fascinating Istanbul from where I am finally attending to the closest thing I have had to work in months – updating this essay-length blog!
What a journey it has been. Moving on from the hordes of tourists in Marmaris some weeks ago, I travelled east to the beautiful seaside town of Fethiye, where our dorm room at Ferah’s Place overlooked the nearby harbour and down the spectacular cliff-lined coast of the Mediterranean. Ferah’s Place was an experience in itself, with Monica’s (the hostel owner’s) ‘sexy dinners’, and her vine-covered garden oasis, which sheltered us (beers included) from the outside temperature that apparently hit 50 degrees one seriously hot afternoon! During the relatively cool mornings I explored the remarkable ghost city of Kay village, where the 2000 strong Greek Orthodox community had left Turkey for the nearby Greek Islands following WWI, and also the Lycean tombs on the nearby cliff-faces, which turned a spectacular array of colours as I sat on a nearby hill, observing them at sunset.
Following Fethiye, I took a short bus ride further down the coast to the backpacker haven of Olympos, where a small community living in old huts and funky treehouses resides in a seriously beautiful valley. The nearby beach could also be classified as beautiful, if one was to actually see a speck of sand hidden beneath the thousands of sunbathing day-trippers. Solace for me was found in the nearby ruins of ancient Olympos, where unmarked trails lead to vine covered ruins, far from the hordes, with spectacular views down the coast. At night, I joined a group of long-time backpacker locals and hit the ‘town’ for a wild night dancing to Turkish pop and consuming far too much local raki. Feeling that more than one night in this place would set me in a permanent cycle of sleeping and partying, I left the following day in search of a place I had heard about in the nearby area, where an ancient civilization had spend centuries constructing and fiercely guarding a mountain-top fortress city.
Termossos was by far the most spectacular sight I have seen thus far during this trip. After a 45 minute drive out to a national park near Antalya, you embark on a steep climb up through the ancient walls of the city, past the crumbling gymnasium, taking a left at the vine-covered markets, and emerging over a ridge line to view the old amphitheatre, extraordinarily perched precariously atop a cliff that abruptly drops hundreds of metres to the tree-lined valley below. What a sight. For over an hour I sat, alone, simply taking it all in. The photos may look amazing, but trust me, to be up there, high in the brisk mountain air, with no one else around; it was really something else.
Leaving Antalya, I embarked on a marathon bus trip north to Cappadoccia, where ¾ the way into the journey, I mysteriously picked up a stomach bug, leaving me stopping the bus, full of vocally unimpressed locals, every 20 minutes or so to visit the toilet. Truthfully, I have never been so happy to see a squatter in all my life! I made it to Goreme, Cappadoccia, alive, mostly thanks to a Japanese pharmacist onboard who, seeing my predicament, fed me a concoction of drugs that kept me clogged up for days! Arigatou!
Goreme and the nearby region were amazing! I trekked through the nearby valleys lined with caves, and up volcanic mountaintops to obtain superb views of the heavily eroded, and thus fascinating landscape. However the best view, and experience of my time there, was courtesy of an early morning hot air balloon trip, which sent me peacefully floating over craggy mountaintops and through the myriad of valleys with such intimacy that you could literally peer into the windows of the cave dwellings, or pick fruit from the resident’s crops that lined the valley floor below. It was such a memorable experience.
Leaving Cappadoccia was harder than I thought. Yes, in part due to the endless opportunities to further explore the region, but more so because I became so sick again, that it was virtually impossible to travel via bus all the way to Istanbul. Realising this, I rested for a couple of days in my cave accommodation, then made the journey further east to Kayseri, where I would mercifully take a plane to Istanbul, cutting the journey time by 10 hours.
Now in Istanbul, I have visited all the sites, and taken in the vibe that emanates from the bustling bazaars and the musical mosques. The energy in this city is contagious. However, I feel that I am yet to see it in its full glory, and I plan to experience this by attending a football game at the home ground of Harry Kewell’s Galatasaray. With my bazaar bought club jersey, a few Effes in hand, and a crew of rowdy supporters from the hostel, we will soon head off for the stadium…
Kewell to score in the 90th minute for a victory I reakon.
Until then,
Matt.
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