Kapadokya (Cappadocia)

For a while, I could not wrap my head around what Kapadokya was. It seemed that I had heard of it even while in the States, but it didn't register anything familiar. When I decided to go to the city of Kapadokya, I realized how I probably heard of it before--it is one of the most famous cities in Turkey. In Farsi, Kapadokya means "land of beautiful houses." 

The trip started off with a quick stop at the Tuz Gulu, or Salt Lake (left). It was the first time I had ever seen a Salt Lake, so before I went there, I was stupidly expecting a large lake that was salty in taste. I was so wrong. Instead, it was like a vast field of sand grains--edible sand grains. Of all the palettes on my tongue, salt is the one I savor the most. There is nothing that adds flavor to food as salt does. Salt provokes thirst and salt provokes sweetness. I was walking on salt, looking around to only the pure whiteness of salt, and I was just bathing in its flavorful wonder.

I saw some ostriches near the Salt Lake, too. Since I am not a big fan of going to the zoo, I could not recall whether it was my first time seeing an ostrich or not. Either way, upon seeing the ostriches, I could not contain my excitement. They were from the wild, and they were staring through the fence right at me. I felt like a kid again. 

Next, we visited the first round of old, abandoned castles. The word "castle" does not quite justify these mountainous dwellings, since they have been worn down from the effects of time and harsh weather. The tops of each point are rounded, pointing to the sky as some ominous direction. From afar, the little holes on the mountains give the false illusion of a porous sponge, that even a small touch of the mountain would deem it to be soft and malleable. This impression was dumbfounded when I actually attempted to climb atop!

I found small dwellings that were once occupied by people living in small towns. There were remnants of old fireplaces, ashes scattered everywhere as if they had just left to grab some sugar from a neighbor. I felt like I understood their way of living, and I began to imagine what types of rugs, candles, and food would be placed in the tiny cubbies formed in the interior. I played along with my imagination to envision families gathering for dinner. I could not believe I was one with some ancient peoples. Only nature could preserve such an opportunity.

It was still early into the morning when we stopped at the mountain preserves. The entire landscape was just a gigantic cliff large enough to house a waterfall; it stared back at you as if to prompt and dare you to jump. I loved the feeling, especially since I am deathly afraid of heights. Clearly, I tested this phobia with victory!

It seemed as if there were an infinite number of stairs to descend before reaching the bottom, where a beautiful stream ran through and separated the cliff from enjoining its partner. I visited some of the old churches built inside the mountains, which were caged off as if they were small caves. Quite the contrary, they were pretty large and had some paints still in place. However, I still enjoyed the naturistic scenery more because it was not only impressive in its grandeur, but also because I do not see such sights very often, coming from an entirely metropolitan city. It began to rain, and it was our queue to leave.

We arrived at the famous Underground city moments later. I could not begin to fathom how people survived in an underground city, but once again, my understanding was mistaken. It was an underground city only for emergencies; it was not a permanent site for living. Did I mention that I am claustrophobic? I felt caged in as I carefully stepped down each step, deeper and deeper, narrower and narrower! At one point, it became so narrow that some people had to turn sideways just to go through.

It was a good experience, and I recalled a similar experience from when I had visited the Mammoth Caves in Kentucky, United States. In particular, I remember a sign warning visitors that there were some parts so narrow, you would become submerged between the rocks. If ever there was a feeling for becoming "one" with nature, it was then!

We arrived at our hotel in Kapadokya. Again, the word "hotel" does not justify this place of interest. It was more of an experience than it was a hotel. There was no hot water. It was raining the entire weekend, from the moment we were on the bus. The bathroom was half outdoors and half indoors. It was refreshing, though admittedly, that I had to awaken to the cold slap of water while washing my face, surrounded by the rain encircling my bedroom.

After a quick nap full of shivering and restlessness, it was time to have the true Anatolian experience--entertainment and all. Before dinner began, there was a Sufi dancing portion. I was so engulfed in the spirituality of the dancers spiraling in such tranquility that it brought me to tears. It was a whole-body experience for them: hearing the hymns, twisting their feet, closing their eyes, lifting their arms as if gliding through the air. I yearned to join them, envious of their solace. 

After the Sufi dance portion, there was a very lively Turkish dancing portion. The costumes looked very authentic, with elaborate designs sewn on both mens' and womens' wardrobe. With each move, the dancers exuded an unbounded energy that simply lifted spirits throughout the room--mine included. I watched them in awe, from one act to the next, it was a flawless display of their rich culture intertwined with the stories being told subtly through the dance moves. In particular, from the first dance onwards, there was a progression of the story of a woman's marriage proposal. Here is a glimpse of how it played out:

The next morning, we went on another visit to the mountain castles. The view was simply breathtaking and the sky looked surreal. I was thankful that the rain finally ceased to pour; the landscape looked incredibly fresh and the colors of the mountains were very vivid against the backsplash of the blue skies.

I climbed yet another mountain. I was proud of myself because I contradicted my overly-cautious nature.

The next part of this Kapadokya trip was my favorite. It is a memory I will forever cherish. We went to a pottery-making shop, which seemed to be common to the city. Of course it was--Kapadokya was famous for pottery and the actual pottery shop which we visited was owned by a family through a line of generations. As we followed our guided tour through the shop, I watched artists meticulously craft their pots and plates with paints. I saw the entire process from stage one--the bare, colorless molds to the glazed, glass-like creations on display. There were so many beautiful colors and patterns, and I was tempted to spend the rest of the day there.

The artist in me was appeased. I finally got my chance to create pottery of my own! It was so enthralling and I was the lucky one from the whole group with such an opportunity. First, I watched the craftsman perform the pot-making process. It involved much enthusiasm; while I watched his legs kick the base, I questioned my own ability to match such speed and precision. It all went well, though, because I made a bowl good enough to be displayed at a second grader's art fair!

After the exciting pottery making, we headed to the famous Open Air Museum of Kapadokya. This was one of the best preserved mountain houses in Kapadokya, which included churches as well. It was much the same as the others we had visited, and it was the third city we visited.

The food I ate in Kapadokya cannot be matched, however. We were served the typical appetizers of yogurt and chi kofte (meatless meatballs), but the main course was truly impressive. We were each served an individual clay pot's worth of food (as you can observe to the right, the waiter is requesting the chef to pour the food into the bowls). The dish was a mixture of lamb and eggplant. It was warm and there were two different textures--the ease of an eggplant juxtaposing the difficulty of the lamb--in terms of chewing. Although I had always despised eggplant, I could not believe how much I savored the dish. It was amazing, and I don't know where I can ever find something like that again. It's one of those tastes that you know you will never forget.

We went to the "Imagination Desert" afterwards. As you can see, the first thing I noticed was the camel. There were many rock formations in this area. I was astounded at the wonders of nature, and once again, I climbed up the hills.

Afterwards, we visited one final destination with more rock formations. These were a bit different, though, since they looked like pillars with tiny rocks balancing on the top of their point. It was here that I took a short ride on a camel. The came had quite the personality! It was beautiful, so I mistakenly interpreted and assumed that it would also be gentle. It was the complete opposite! At just a foot away from the camel, it was poking at me and almost shooing me away like a fly! I could not understand whether I was offended or whether it was just a camel thing. All I knew was that it was hilarious, and the people watching must have had a show. Taking a picture with it seemed nearly impossible, since I was scared it would bite me!

Amasra, Turkey and the Black Sea

In the states, the last time I looked at a map, I never would have imagined that I would be able to see the Black Sea. It was just another body of water that I had heard about, just another part of geography that seemed to be vaguely located in the Asian continent. But experiencing the Black Sea was an experience that truly fully justified the term known as "travelling." Travelling should mean that you cross borders, you experience sights and sounds, you embody a new self. That you develop an entirely new personality just to be one with the people by whom you are surrounded. The Black Sea was the first time I actually felt like I was a traveler who could draw the world map and point my finger to it and say, I have been there. I have experienced this place. I know what it feels like, what it smells like, what it tastes like.

Amasra is a small coastal city located on the Black Sea region of Northern Turkey. It is famous for its fish, which I clearly tried and thoroughly enjoyed. It seemed there was an enterprise of culture revolving solely around fish. What a feeling, I almost felt like I was on the fictional land of Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. The fish was exceptional, fried, and perfectly accented with the sprinkles of lemon juice.

After eating I decided to explore the town. It is surprisingly intimate despite the allure one would expect from a historical mark that houses a castle. Yes, Amasra Kalesi, the Castle of Amasra, was one of its main attractions. Above is a picture I took describing its history.

The cylindrical rotunda in the picture to the right is actually a mosque. After climbing the stairs to the castle and heading more inland to the living quarters, I discovered the Ezan resounding loudly. A field of cats occupied the steps in front of the mosque. It was a beautiful sight. The mosque overlooked the Black Sea, with stairs spiraling downwards around its periphery.

Take a look at the islands from the vantage point of the castle:

Amasra's size was a definite advantage in terms of navigating around. The restaurant where I had eaten the fish, known as Cesm-i-Cihan, was famous in Northern Turkey. It was in the hub of all the other fish restaurants which were porched in a single row, in a bazaar-like fashion. I appreciated the view from the restaurant, which included the sailboats pictured below. The fishermen, Sea, restaurants and ferries were all just meters away from each other. It was such a sense of community that the realization of lifestyle truly dawned upon me. I concluded that the fishermen outside most probably sailed on the Black Sea facing me, caught the fish I had just eaten, which was then prepared right there a few minutes later.

The Amasra Salata was a favorite. From the moment I tasted its freshly squeezed marinade to the moment I crunched on the crispiness of the vegetables, I knew I would crave it from then on. It was truly the best salad I had ever eaten in my life, and there were no croutons, no cheese, no dressing. It was purely from nature, it was truly a delight and a privilege to be able to taste its freshness.

Going to the extents of what seemed like an island, I hopped onto the rock formations also known as the coast. There was a monument of a brick wall 7 meters high. The height, of course, is not the matter of pride; rather, if you can claim that you made it to the wall itself and additionally hopped on the rocks in the pouring rain, then that is the matter of pride. Yours truly can claim this! 

Take a look at the landscape and a closer look at the climb:

The stairs were slippery and I felt like a grandma trying to make my way down. The small pension on the left was opposite the stairs. How do people live like this? Amazing.

After my travelling feet retired, I witnessed the harsh weather the Black Sea was infamous for. It was pouring all day but I did not leave the coast without first touching the Sea. It was very cold. I felt so happy when I touched the waters of the Black Sea, and with each retraction of a wave I likened it to my trip here in Turkey. It was a force that was constantly pushing and pulling at me to simply stay longer, but just like the waves came and retracted ever so quickly, it was just a tease...

Next was a trip to the Amasra Museum, below.

An old printing of the Quran. I could not believe how closely it resembles those small, contemporary green ones that can be found all around the world. It almost makes the format of Quran standardized, just as is the text it contains.

Here are examples of clothes that citizens of former Amasra used to wear.

These "Amphora" vases are capable of being stacked one atop the other for easy storage and transport. Amphora is an art-history term that is used to describe the characteristics of the vase itself rather than the type of vase it is.

It looks like jewelry has not changed much over the course of history.

Some old ruins that were recovered by archaeologists. I was trying to pose like them, but I was not meticulous enough to note the specific arm raised. Clearly, I fail.

Roman sculptures can be found outside of Rome, too! Yes, these female sculptures lack heads but do embody typical Phydian drapery. The elegance of these stones cannot be understated enough. Imagine carving the drapes with simple tools. How great a task it would be to fool the eye into thinking that even stone can be soft and curled at the edges. As I ran my fingers along the creases of the folds, I pictured what kind of talented artisan must have sculpted it.

Here are some other remains, columns, and grave markers left behind. They were all displayed outside of the museum--out of context, out of memory. That was the only upsetting part--the extent of inauthenticity.

Do you notice the different hats on these grave markers? They indicate the profession of the deceased. In addition, I noted that the languages of inscription varied from Farsi to Arabic to Ottoman Turkish.

The final destination on the agenda was The Bird's Rock Monument, below. It was a huge climb uphill that was made easier by the construction of wooden stairs curling in and out of the mountain leading to the top. Although the embossed figure was on the mountain, it felt like I was hiking through a jungle or a rain forest. All of the rain had left dew on the leaves and I was playing hide-and-seek with each foot I stepped forward. It was worth the efforts as I saw the grandeur the emboss had to offer. I could not understand how people had managed to make their way up this mountain hundreds of years ago and managed to carve a figure out of the stone of a mountain. Lastly, I grasped a finally look and delved in the beauty of the mighty Black Sea.