Early Morning Jaunt

I have a running partner! I think I mentioned that Goreme is situated in one of many valleys that make up the landscape in Cappadocia. From where I’m sitting on the roof terrace at the hotel I can see the fairy chimneys of Love Valley, Rose Valley, Honey Valley and Pigeon Valley (so called because of the many birdhouses carved into the rocks by farmers hoping to harvest pigeon droppings—apparently one of the best fertilizers in the world).

(Pigeon Valley, with Rose Valley in the background)

(Love Valley)

So today Ünal, one of the guys who works at the hotel, came by at SIX AM (his choice, not mine), and we scooted over to Pigeon Valley. I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever been on a more scenic run in my life. Probably about 90% of the people in Goreme are engaged in the tourism industry, and 5% are retired old men who spend all day sitting in cafes drinking Turkish tea, but the remaining 5% are still farmers. Most of their “gardens” are along the streams that run along the base of the valleys, so we spent a lot of time ducking under the drooping branches of walnut trees and skirting fields of pistachios, squash (they eat the seeds and feed the rest to the cows), chickpeas, and sunflowers. (Incidentally, the primary cooking oil in Turkish cuisine—which is pretty heavy on the oil—is not olive oil but sunflower seed oil…do they even sell that at home? Anyway, the upshot is that everywhere you go there are fields and fields of sunflowers.)

(Walnut Trees)

We made it all the way through the valley and (harrowingly) up the side to the city of Uçhisar, home to a “castle” that is the highest point in Cappadocia.
(Uçhisar)


In addition to sunflower seed oil, Turkish people eat a TON of bread…along the lines of a loaf or two a day. In the morning, the streets are overwhelmed by the smell of freshly baked bread; it seems like from the hours of 7 to 10 every corner market is temporarily transformed into a bakery. When we got back into town we feasted on hot, yeasty sesame seed rolls and fizzy pomegranate juice. Ünal didn’t have his wallet on him, but it turns out that Goreme is the kind of small town where you can eat now and pay whenever.

UPDATE: One of the stops on the "History and Adventure" tour I went on a few days ago was the Kaymakli underground city. Cappadocia has more than 200 of these warren-like towns, some of them as deep as eight levels and 50 meters. Most of them were first built by the Phrygians around the 8th century BC and have been enlarged over the years--Kaymakli is most famous as a hiding place for early Christians escaping persecution and Arab raids in the 7th century. People lived in the caves for months at a time, and archaeologists have identified rooms used as kitchens, churches, stables, and...wine presses (wine being very important for Christians). Anyway, the other day I was looking around my room and in a flash of inspiration realized that it DEFINITELY used to be a wine press. There's a sort of sub-cave attached to the main room that looks exactly like the areas used for stomping grapes, and a little hole at the base where the grape juice might have drained out. Look!

And my new job

(Hmm…so I’m not very good at Blogger. I thought I posted this on Friday but I guess I didn’t hit the right button. Anyway, pretend the timestamp says Friday.)

So on my first real day (Thursday), Mehmet sat me down to tell me about my job. Last night I was told that Turkish people do not plan—everything happens in the moment—but that was already pretty apparent to me. I arrived in Turkey having almost no idea what I was going to be doing, and while before leaving I thought this was just a result of my own irresponsibility, it became obvious pretty soon that actually no one, including Mehmet, knew what I was going to be doing. At first he just sort of said, “You will work here in the hotel, and at the restaurant at night!” and that was it. Some prodding elicited that while at the hotel I could check people in, tell them about the area, answer their many questions, and generally attend to their every need by being helpful and knowledgeable about everything. All of which sounded fine, barring the fact that I had been in town for fewer than 12 hours and knew NOTHING about the area. Haha. Oh, well. As long as you know a little bit more than someone it’s easy to pretend that you know a lot more, right?

Actually, in order to get me in working shape, Hasan has been sending me off to “research” all of the things that I’ll be recommending to guests when they first come in…going on the “History and Adventure” tour (the name of which I misheard at first—I was pretty excited to go on an “Eastern Adventure” tour), getting a massage at the hamam (might have to investigate that one a little further), doing a little wine tasting so I can make good recommendations (also might require some more in-depth work)…all in all, not a bad way to start a new job. Still to come is the hiking tour through the Ilhara Valley and the sunrise hot-air balloon ride.

At night I’ll be working in the restaurant. It’s really quite lovely, situated on a little terrace with a view of the village below and the red walls of Rose Valley above. Stella kept telling me before I left that I was terribly unsuited to waitressing, and since it seems to mostly be about being discreet, not dropping or forgetting things and being endlessly pleasant and ingratiating (none of which I would consider my strengths) I fear she might be right.

My New Place

One of the big tourism draws in this area is the "cave hotel"--in fact, I have yet to see a hotel advertising rooms that AREN'T in caves. It's not just the hotels, though; a lot of homes and businesses and at least one (very aromatic) barn in town are also cave-based. My room is no exception. I'm not actually staying IN the hotel, but in a vacant house a few doors down. To get there I have first find my little alley, which is actually not so easy. The streets are small and winding, and their layout is pretty mazelike, and really one cave looks like another to me at this point, so I'm constantly getting turned around. In fact, my run yesterday morning was extended by a good 15 minutes when I made a wrong turn and found myself almost immediately profoundly lost.

Do you want a photo tour of my new place? OK!

This is my alley. The door at the end actually isn't mine (I'm around the corner), though I've been inside that house as well. (It's not really a house...home? dwelling?), having been accosted on the street yesterday by the old woman who lives there. I was heading to the restaurant when she grabbed me very firmly by the hand and whirled me around to the opposite direction. First she led me through a mound of rubble and through the improbably small mouth of a cave that turned out to house a little church carved into the rock, with an apse covered in decorative frescoes. I think it’s fallen out of use, though, both because of the pile of broken stones partly blocking and the entrance and the fact that the center of the church is now filled to chest height with bags of hay. Our next stop was her house, where she showed me her pepper and tomato plants before collapsing on the ground, complaining of the heat. Then she told me that it was really bad that I had been keeping my windows open during the day because the flies could get in, and that I really should close them up when I left to go to the hotel in the morning. Also that I should jam a stick under my front door when I leave in the morning so that no one can force the lock and break in. (At least I think that's what she said--she was pretty good at charades.) All of which made me a little suspicious--how did she know I was keeping my windows open? I feel very watched...


OK, here's the next stop on the tour. After I unjam the stick and go through my front door there's a little courtyard. I go up the stairs and there's my bedroom door...



















It looks kind of medieval to me; I feel like I'm living in a convent.





















Inside, the floor is all covered in carpets, with cushions propped against the walls for lounging around, and shelves conveniently carved directly into the walls. I turn on the lights by plugging in the cord hanging down from the naked light bulb on the ceiling. There's no closet or bureau, so I'm storing my clothes Turkish-style, just piled up on the floor. The caves stay much cooler than other rooms (I have yet to see air conditioning anywhere), and it is hot hot hot here, so coming home is actually pretty wonderful.










Outside my room is a terrace that overlooks Goreme...So far I've taken about three million pictures if my view, but I'll be generous and just post one of them, taken in a jet-lagged burst of energy at about 5 in the morning on Friday. I was already half-awake at 4, and the call to prayer that came blasting through the PA system at 4:05 brought me around to being completely, fully awake. (The call to prayer is sung five times a day, at slightly different times each day but generally starting a bit after 4am. The PA system gets a lot of other use as well, though. Yesterday Pinar, one of the girls I work with at the hotel, told me that aside from the call to prayer most of the announcements are about pressing town issues like a sale on watermelons at the kiosk next to the bus station.) Anyway, shortly after the morning call to prayer, I heard all these weird breathing noises, like a giant, winded brontosaurus was lurking outside my room. It turns out that Goreme is not actually home to any brontosauri, but IS home to a thriving early-morning hot-air balloon ride industry (and, I’ve since found out, home to the world’s largest hot-air balloon, with a basket that can hold up to 35 people). Every morning at least 30 balloons go drifting over the town—some of them close enough that the whoosh of the giant flames igniting inside can be heard through my window…

Arrived in Goreme

I’m going to continually resist the urge to sound ridiculously gushing and mawkish as I describe my arrival and first few hours in Goreme…but lapses might be inevitable.

After some ado at the tiny airport in Kayseri involving me stepping over a (very faint) red line and a succession of four security guards of increasing size and rank, I was met by a driver and bundled into the little van heading to the hotel. Our approach was made in the dark, which meant there was no view but also meant that the tiny sliver of moon and Venus hanging above it were even more apparent as we drove east toward Goreme; I guess now I know where the design for the Turkish flag comes from.

Goreme is situated in one of a series of valleys carved out thousands of years ago by wind and water, which left not only rippling bluffs but also tall, capped spires that descend down the hillside and into the village itself. Most of the original structures were carved out of the rock, and at night the spires appear lit from within by the lights glowing in the caves. Add to this the Turkish love songs being broadcast over the town speakers, the fruit of an exuberant father-of-the-bride’s desire for his daughter’s wedding party to be enjoyed by all 2,000 of Goreme’s residents, and the warm breeze smelling sweetly of cherry tobacco and you have…well, you have the recipe for me being gushing and mawkish. Sorry. Basically, though, this place is incredible.

Isn’t it usually the case that when someone arrives at their destination after 20 hours of travel, especially if it’s around 11pm, they are immediately given chamomile tea and then shuffled off to bed? Not so in Goreme! On the night of my arrival I was first shown my room, then taken to the restaurant where I’ll be working, introduced by Mehmet (hotel and restaurant owner, whom I met in Seattle) to several of his friends and acquaintances, fed spicy bulgar and chickpea soup and Turkish beer (both delicious) and regaled by live music (a man playing an hourglass shaped drum and a Turkish lute player with a very deep voice), then driven by Hasan on his scooter to a mountaintop with a panoramic view of Goreme to look at the milky way and “get oriented.” Which I still am not quite.

Before Leaving

OK, here is most of what I know: Tomorrow I'll be flying to Turkey, eventually landing in the town of Goreme, in Cappadocia. I'm going to be working as a waitress, and staying at one of the "cave hotels" in town. There's a pool there, and hopefully I'll get the chance to take a lot of day trips. I'm not much of a photographer, but I'll do my best to document EVERYTHING I see and hear while I'm there. For now, here are some pictures (thank you, internet!) that make me go a little weak in the knees.

Goreme city center:


Inside the hotel:


View from the the hotel balcony:


Oh, and don't forget! Send me your address! I promise I'll write...