Tag: central asia

(8) Goreme, Turkey: Motorcycle mama

Ahhh…I’m back to being in love with night trains.

When I left you last in Istanbul, I was recovering from a creepy man on a night train and questioning my existence as a traveller. Catching (by 2minutes) a ferry across the Bosphorus to the train station, I made it to my third attempt at a positive night train experience. I was not disappointed.

I spent the equivalent of about $45 for a 16 hour train ride and an immaculate room with bunk beds all to myself. An attendant on each car cam to make up the beds and provide a towel. There was a pull out countertop to make a portable office, and a mini fridge stocked with a few tasty items.

Can’t say I sleep totally well, though, as every time my ladder knocked against the wall or any other similar sound was made, I woke up with a start thinking creepy man was trying to get back in my room again.

Otherwise, lovely.

Arrived in a city called Kayseri, where I slogged to a bus stop with a couple from Montreal in order get to the main bus station. A man at the stop said that he was getting on the same bus and would show us when to get off. He also offered to pay for us. Note that I’m assuming this is what he said based on his hand gestures. Much uncertainty, but it seemed alright to me. The young woman from Montreal almost started crying – the uncertainty, the heat, her heavy pack. She said she was more independent when she travelled alone, but the near meltdown had me thinking otherwise.

Göreme is a main tourist centre of a region of Turkey called Cappadocia. Cappadocia, which once had an economy based on underground lemon storage and collecting pigeon shit for fertilizer, is now heavily tourism dependent. Lemons are still stored. The pigeon shit industry, however, has collapsed.

The attraction of Cappadocia lies in its unique geography and related homes and churches. Long periods of erosion have left many pillars of stone and dirt which dot the landscape. The pillars, called fairy chimneys, once contained complete homes, and but more often now contain guest houses. Similarly unique-looking valleys have complete villages carved into the earth, with bricks used only sparingly.

My stay in Göreme was overwhelmingly relaxing. I spent four days here overall, and used my time to hike, motorcycle, and write. It helped that the place I found to stay at had a lovely shaded rooftop terrace, wifi, and a great view.

While Göreme has become well touristed over the years, I don’t find it offensive. (Update: Camels were just brought by our outdoor restaurant eating area for rides. Perhaps I spoke too soon). I think the surroundings help – the immediate physical geography surrounding the town means there is a reason for people to be here.

My longest hike took me 5 hours up above Göreme, under sedimentary layers and above eroding, rolling, technicolour canyons. I found myself in old rooms (homes?) carved into the mountain, with doors that walked off into thin air (has the geography changed so much?). I spotted lemon caves and old pigeon shit collectors, admired frescoes in old churches built within rock walls, and wandered through a semi-abandoned village carved out of hills and fairy chimneys.

The walk was a great reminder that what I love about travel is most often the physical geography. I can be at peace in stunning surroundings. I can sit, think, enjoy views and be content. History? Meh.

On the hike I also finally bent my orthodontic wire enough so that it snapped off. It’s still in contact with 4 teeth – I hope my hard earned teeth stay in place for the next five months.

My motorcycle circuit took me far. It had been suggested to me the night previously by a local restauranteur that the valley to the east of Göreme was much more scenic than the valleys south. I’m so glad I took his advice. While the road was cold, even with my fleece done up tight, the air was lovely and the views ever changing. I stopped at a great little old monastery looked after by an engaging host who had been looking after the area as a volunteer (along with his father) for 40 years.

Winding my way through the hills, I knew I was getting low on gas, and was starting to get concerned as I hadn’t seen a gas station since I started earlier in the day. I’m sure most villages have a “gas guy” that has buckets of gas somewhere, but I wasn’t desperate enough to start asking, and soon could see that I would make it to the next big town, where I was sure gas would await.

And it did. I filled up, had some chai with with a group hanging out at the station, and headed back to Göreme on a long boring highway. At this point, I was cold, tired and sore and just wanted to get home, but stopped just before Göreme at another scenic village and some viewpoints. I’m really loving the geology here.

Other than these two more major excursions, I walked, met some interesting people, had some great food, and enjoyed the weather (though the nights are cold). I’ve had a lot of time to think about my plans for the next few days, and I’m torn. There are one or two places that interest me, but I worry that I would put a lot of time and effort to getting there, only to be disappointed. I suppose that a poor excuse, but unless the location is in physically stunning surroundings (do I hear an echo in here?), I’m not content (especially if the accommodation is crap). So I’ve cut two originally intended destinations from plans, and am heading directly to Savur, a small village set among valleys and mountains, with a unique guest house. It’s expensive compared to what I’m used to, but I hope it will be worth it.

(7) Istanbul, Turkey: Traveller’s identity crisis

I arrived safe to Istanbul in the late morning, and made my way to a hostel in the historic area of Istanbul, Sultanahmet. My main purpose for being here was to see if I could get my visa for Iran. I had received a reference number online through an Iranian travel agency, which was half the battle, but it still wasn’t a sure thing. Canadian-Iranian relations are tense after an Iranian-Canadian journalist was killed in Iran a few years ago. Better than the situation for Americans though – they have to have a full tour booked to travel in Iran.

At the consul I went through a bit of adminstrivia, but overall it was surprisingly painless. I was asked to come back the next day at 10am, and viola – it was there, and for the time period I had requested. Only hiccup was when I was freaked out for about an hour that I lost my passport as I was preparing to head back to the consul, having forgotten that I had given it to them for my visa.

Also sent a package home. As light as I packed, I sent some stuff home that I’m not willing to pack for as little as I will use it – light down jacket (I managed fine without while hiking in snow in NZ, so I’m willing to risk it), an electrical converter I mispacked, a journal I thought I would write in, but turns out it was full aready from my Peru and Cuba trips, a pack cover that really is more for rain than dust, and a few other assorted small bits. Totalled almost 2kg. I’m very happy to be carrying even less.

The weather so far, including Istanbul, has been quite nice. Probably 25 and sunny during the day, but quite cool and windy at night (ie fleece needed to be outside). During my days I have spent a lot of time – you guessed it – walking. Checking out local markets, eating in little pita doner stalls, walking some more. Took a boat up the Bosphorus – the channel of water that divides European Istanbul from Asian Istanbul.

Toured Ayasofia, built in the 4th century and lasting until the middle ages as the most substantial place of worship for Christians, at which time it was turned into a mosque – it is now designated as a museum. The outside is nothing special – big if nothing else – but the inside features intricate mosaics and amazing architecture. Also visited the Blue Mosque – Islam’s answer to the huge Ayasofia. The Blue Mosque’s exterior offers what the interior of Ayasofia does – beauty. Considering how many tourists are in this area of the city, the ridiculous number of white tour buses trying to get through narrow streets, the overwhelming array of touts and vendors, it can actually be kind of peaceful around here. Or maybe I just have a knack for tuning out European languages.

After my first day or two here, I must say I was feeling a little lost here. It was like I was having my sad first night traveling that I didn’t have on my first night I actually started travelling. The usual “what am I doing here?’, “where am I going?”, “what’s my purpose?”.  A combination of lack of direction (it all hinged on the Iranian visa), not totally loving the city or where I’m staying, and very easily getting absorbed in a book instead.  My original plan, which was to be on the go, exploring and moving until I settle with some more time in Kyrgyzstan, might change. The idea of having a settled destination appeals to me. I wasn’t planning to volunteer on this trip, but I might look into some options now (if anyone has connections, I’d love an introduction).

My gloom changed, though, as soon as I got my Iranian visa, after which I discovered some neat market streets and bought a train ticket to Cappadocia, in the centre of Turkey. While there are many historic sites I am interested in seeing along the Western coast of Turkey, I can’t see everything. And I know myself well enough to know that geography trumps history in terms of my enjoyment of an area. I also have come to realize that I love traveling on trains, despite the odd creepy man. Love the landscapes and the fresh air. So onto Cappadocia, featuring strange rock and dirt formations, caves, and canyons. Goodbye 1000+ year old forts and art. And, since I’m officially crossing the Bosphorus: goodbye Europe, hello Asia.

On a total side bar, the metal wire behind my top teeth (glued in place for over a year) has come loose. I was trying to find ceramic glue in the markets, thinking that if it’s OK to eat off of, it’s probably OK in my mouth. But instead I think I’ll just keep playing with it until all six contact points come loose. Two down, four to go.

(6) Croatia to Turkey via Montenegro, Kosovo, Macedonia, and Greece: Yes, it was a long commute

Yes, this was 50 hours of crazy transit.

While I wanted to spend a bit of time in this area, especially Dubrovnik, Kotor and Pristine, I decided just to push on.

After reviewing my email re: my Iranian visa application number, it sounds as though Thursday and Friday comprise the weekend in Turkey, and my number is only good until approximately the 10th and I want to give myself some “oh shit” days just in case. So while I was tempted to stop over in Dubrovnik and Pristine, the best I did was spend 30 minutes enjoying the fortress views in Kotor Stari Grad, 5 hours in Podgorica enjoying dinner and an impromptu tour of the city with three young local girls, and 5 hours brushing up on my Greek in Thessaloniki thanks to my days taking physics.

I got up for a 5:30am bus across the island from Vela Luka (why did I even try hitching?) all the way through to Dubrovnik. Had a little freakout as the bus schedule said buses further into Montenegro only went on odd numbered days, of which this was not one. But I asked, and one was leaving in 30 minutes. The bus ride through to Kotor was fantastic along the ocean – winding roads with steep drop-offs (complete with rusted smashed cars down below) and beautiful views of the coastline and Adriatic architecture (= terra cotta roof and cream walls). The bus to Podgorica surprised me – outstanding views of mountains and a huge lake I completely did not expect. I associate walls of mountains with ranges like the Himalayas, Rockies, Alps, Southern Alps, or Andes. These weren’t quite as high, but they were nonetheless snowcapped. Also met a man working for the American Embassy in Podgorica who is responsible for distributing military and state aid related to defense for Montenegro. Learning some political and cultural contexts of the area was nice.

The brief stopover in Podgorica was uneventful, but interesting. At one point I offered to take a picture for a group of girls on a bridge, who then offered to show me around. The cousins all had matching shirts, which were in support of one of their brothers, who was running/working for a party that was campaigning on a platform of “clean government” (ie no corruption). As we toured it became obvious that they were disappointed they couldn’t show me very interested things. I explained that just walking around and speaking with people that live in Montenegro was very interesting for me. We’ll catch up further on Facebook.

Interesting fact: Montenegro is home to the ‘.me’ domain, popular with URL shorteners like fb.me and wp.me.

Then onto the overnight bus to Pristina. Had a bit more success sleeping than the last time, but arrived in Pristina at 4:45am. My original intent was to explore the city and take an afternoon overnight bus through to Istanbul, but a Skopje bus was there when I arrived, and I didn’t feel like starting my day walking around at 5am. Kind of wish this part of the trip had been during the day – I could tell we were winding up and around through mountains on narrow roads with snow still on the banks. In Skopje found a soon leaving train to Thessaloniki, which is where I sit now. The views through the rest of Macedonia were stunning – more mountains and staggering canyons. I’ll be landing in Greece soon, hoping to find my next departure to Istanbul. I’m afraid I’m going to be arriving at night, but I’ll just have to make do.

So altogether otherwise it’s been 4 hour bus, 2.5 hour bus, 3 hour bus, 8 hour bus, 2 hour bus, 5 hour train, and a yet unknown hour train to Istanbul, all with minor breaks in between (or sometimes not at all).

While I brushed my teeth out the window at the Macedonia/Greece border, I’m sure what I really need is a shower.

(Update: The train was a night train, so I’ll be arriving in the morning, yay! And it is an 11.5 hour train, with lovely bunk sleeping berths. I have room to myself.)

(Update #2: I hadn’t even considered the current economic situation in Greece – apparently general strikes are about to occur. I guess I lucked out.)

(Update #3: Lovely night train was not so lovely. Creepy man kept trying to get into my room – turning the handle, or knocking and then stepping away to the side (though I could still see him through the fisheye peep hole). After this happening 3 times over 1.5 hours, I yelled at him to stay away from my door. Never heard from him or saw him again, but nonetheless spent 45 minutes standing at my door with my eye to the peep hole, followed by 2 hours half-sleeping sitting up, followed by 4 hours sleeping with the light on. Had to use the toilet, but opted to pee in the small corner sink in my room. I hope they clean those things in between trips.)

(5) Split to Vela Luka, Croatia: Hitchhiking gone bad

Oh dear, what a day. I had hoped to get Dubrovnik today, which would have been easy if I had just taken the bus, but I really wanted to get out on a ferry and see the islands and coast from the water.

There used to be a ferry that travelled from Split to Dubrovnik, but the ferry company was having some financial difficulties earlier this year, so no go.

This should have been easy to do, if the first ferry left in the morning. I could then catch a bus on my destination island to the other side, and then a passenger ferry and another bus to Dubrovnik, but it was not to be. The ferry didn’t leave until 2:30pm (which ended up being a catamaran in which you wouldn’t be outside during sail, which was the whole point of me taking it!!), and when I arrived on the island, it turned out today was a holiday (Labour Day) and there were no buses to the other side of the island (40km away).

I was in the same boat (literally and figuratively, pun totally intended) as two travellers from Boston. Chelsea and Bryan (?) were on a year long trip, and were camping as much as they could. We three thought it would be smart to hitchhike to the other side. I mean, who wouldn’t want to pick up 3 backpackers with huge packs? Well, as it turns out, no one does. We had walked about 5km before we sensed this impending doom. The only car that had even slowed down for us turned out to be a car full of nuns. They gave us a little honk.

After 5km we had reached the turnoff to the next town, of which we didn’t know the accommodation situation, or the bus stop situation, plus Chelsea and Bryan wanted to camp by the beach, and this town was not on one. So we parted ways. I successfully hitched back alone to Vela Luka, where the ferry had originally dropped us off. I found a sobe (like casa particulares in Cuba; homestays) and had a fabulous mussel risotto dinner by the ocean before hitting my hot shower and comfortable bed. I suspect Chelsea and Bryan, who had continued on when I turned back, had a different end to their day. I hope they got to where they were going.

(4) Split, Croatia: The empress and her new clothes

I’ve been on the go for over 5 days now, and today will be the last one with this set of clothes. I only have two sets of clothes (plus pajamas) with me – 2 shirts, 2 pants, and 2 different thicknesses of fleece.

Sure, it may sound rank wearing the same clothing every day, but thus is the life of someone that lives out of a 30L bag.

My day this morning started in a bit of a panic – I caught my 6am bus only by a few minutes because the reception at my hostel slept in accidentally. The ride was a lovely one, especially as we moved through the less populated Hercegovina. The area reminded me of Kelowna, or northwestern Vietnam. I actually wrote in my journal that some of the towns reminded me of quaint European towns, after which I reminded myself that these were quaint European towns.

After arriving in Split and finding a hostel (Silver Gate Hostel – I highly recommend), I explored the historic area. Much of the Croatian coast was developed with fortified Roman cities in the fırst millenium, and the Roman complex (built at the turn of the 4th century) in Split is the focus here. The old city was lovely, but what was craziest was though although this is a protected area, you didn’t just find tourist stalls around in and outside it, but the place was absolutely full with homes, stores and cafes. It was just like an extension of the modern city outside the fortress walls. Totally bizarre.

There was also a great walk around and up a forested hill overlooking Split, complete with fragrant flowers. Met a few other travellers, and shivered my way through some great conversation with two Swiss (it gets chilly at night!). More – you guessed it – walkiıng the next day and planned out the next step in my journey – Dubrovnik.

(3) Sarajevo, Bosnia and Hercegovina: A large dose of history

Travelling into Bosnia in the morning on the train, I was struck by the subtle differences to Croatia. More informal garbage dumps. Tree overhanging rivers, strung with tattered clothes and other garbage swept up in high water. Unfinished buildings.

Again I arrived without any local money but was able to change thanks to a pitying train ticket attendant. Caught a tram into town, on which an older woman chatted me up in Serbian. From what I gleamed, it sounds like she had some family (familia) in Canada, and a sister (siestre) in Syria (Syrie).  On the ride to hostel I was hoping would accept me at 8 in the morning, I was struck by all the bullet pock marks in all of the buildings. The war here happened when I was just becoming a teenager, and I really still don’t know much about it. I pride myself now on trying to keep up with world events, but I must say I couldn’t have 100% for sure have told you whether Yugoslavia still existed as a country or not (it doesn’t).

Sarajevo for me was a city for which I don’t have a good description. I couldn’t get a good sense of the place- what it stands for, what’s its pride is. A city that hosted the Olympics just 26 years ago (which I find incredulous having seen the work required to have a successful Games in Vancouver) yet whose bobsled tracks were used by fighters to shoot from during the fighting in the early 90s. Where I can shop at Benetton and enjoy wifi over a cappuccino, but can’t use a credit card to buy an international train ticket. And chain smokers. Everyone is a chain smoker here.

I had other realizations while in Sarajevo (totally baring my lack of knowledge here, be kind). As the train came in to Sarajevo on Day 3, I noticed what I thought were really interesting church steeples. And then when I saw quite a few women wearing head dresses in Sarajevo, I had an epiphany that these were actually mosque minarets. So these are what the xenophobic Swiss have their undies in a bunch over. Final new knowledge from Sarajevo is for the World War junkies out there. While I knew the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand was the spark to WWI, I didn’t know it happened in Sarajevo – but I can know say I stood on the corner where it happened.

In the end I spent 2 days in Sarajevo – the first was spent mostly sleeping due to my bad reaction to the night train from Zagreb, with a short walk around the old town (followed appropriately by a night of sleeplessness – I finally slept from 7am-10am); the highlight of the second was walking up and up through crowded, steep residential areas to a destructed fort with a great view of the valley. Plus some other assorted walking. I tend to walk a lot. Good thing I have a great sense of direction. I’m not joking. The only time I messed up badly was biking in Vietnam – cutting in right angles through rice paddies, I had meant to make a roughly equilateral triangle of a trip – turned out I made a hugely obtuse triangle and instead of 5km back to town, I had 17km. I blame the hazy overcast sky and no sense of sun. But otherwise, my internal compass is golden.

(2) Zagreb, Croatia: Scamming the bus system

I don’t have much time in the Balkans (or Central Europe as Marina calls it), so I have to enjoy each place to it’s fullest in the least amount of time. I didn’t original intend to even visit this area, but once my flight (that I got with points) was set for Munich, and an Iranian visa application number for Istanbul was received, I knew I could spend up to 10 days in the area.

This day I spent wandering Zagreb. Scammed one more free tram ride to the city centre before I could change money, but overall spent a lovely day walking through city gardens and flowers, exploring the old part of the city and it’s amazingly steep hills and dramatic stone buildings, and enjoying a latte and wifi at one of the many cafes around the city. Marina described this min café area as the “living room” of Zagreb, and she wasn’t wrong. Sometimes I couldn’t even tell where the actually cafes were, but the pedestrian streets were filled with tables and umbrellas, packed with people drinking and smoking. There was also a definite culture of biking here – lots of bike lanes, bikes, and people on them.

When I travel I often consider whether or not I could imagining living in the places I visit. On my 1-year trip through NZ-Australia up through SE Asia, I decided I could probably really enjoy living almost anywhere in NZ, in Vientiane, Laos, and Hanoi, Vietnam. Zagreb is another one of those places. A really great vibe.

But, I couldn’t stay for too long. Found a night train to Sarajevo, which seemed to be a great idea at the time. Save on accommodation, don’t waste precious daylight in transit. Right? Win-win. Right? As much as people might believe I can sleep anywhere (exhibit 1), apparently night trains are an exception to the rule. I slept for about an hour. I’m going to be tired.

PS. I didn’t get a stamp in my passport when I entered Bosnia and Hercegovina. :(