Cappadocia, Turkey

As has been the case for much of the trip (and for much of my roadtrip history when I’m not driving), I slept for the majority of our morning drive on our journey from Istanbul to Cappadocia.  When I first nodded off we were still inside the city, but when I woke up the landscape had changed dramatically.  Lush greenery, rivers, and streams gave way to a brown semi arid desert.  In American terms, goodbye Indiana, hello Arizona.  At a remote truck stop we all piled out of the coach to take a break.  Initially this seemed like any other rural stop, dirty and run down, but turns out we were at salt flat.  I knew nothing about salt flats aside from every time a land speed record is set, it’s done at a salt flat, and standing in the middle of one it was easy to see why.  The ground is so incredibly white that sunglasses are a necessity, much like the morning after a night of intense snowfall.  Amazingly, this flat is actually a lake for half of the year.  And not because TVA dams it up, but because the rainfall varies so greatly.  We took a few pictures and I bought the Turkish version of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish and we headed on our way.

For hours we drove through desert, the scenery hardly changing, when suddenly a valley appeared as if it had been carved out of the ground below us and we descended to its bottom.  The spectacle of Cappadocia isn’t necessarily the valley, but the homes inside.  Within the valley, oddly shaped rock/mud homes seemingly stick up out of the ground nearly everywhere you look.  Every home/structure seems to be carved out of the rock that used to be there…each one a semi-modern cave dwelling.  The omnipresence of these in Cappadocia has made it a popular tourist destination, so conveniences and helpful English speakers are abundant.

After getting a good night of rest at the Flintstone Cave Lodge (under a pink Pebbles comforter no less) , Awal and I decided to rent bicycles to explore the area.  Initially, after climbing a decent grade, enjoying the view, and coasting back down, this seemed that a fantastic idea.  We spotted out a hill way out in the distance and decided to bike out toward it.  After traveling several kilometers mostly downhill, we got on to a trail and made it out to the a hill where we could climb around, check out some of abandoned dwellings and enjoy the view of the city.   From the top of the hill, we spotted a trail that winded through the hills and back to the main road and decided to bike down it.  Unfortunately, after just a few feet Awal realized that his rear tire was completely flat, and he could no longer peddle.  So here we were, off on a trail several kilometers from town without any option but to push our bikes back.  Going back to the road would have meant walking a good bit out of the way, so instead we pushed our bikes up the aforementioned trail.  If we were merely walking uphill, then it wouldn’t have been so bad.  Or if we were pushing our bikes on flat ground, that would have been ok too…pushing the bikes on a hilly dirt trail, however, was grueling.  After pushing for an hour or so we found a cave where we stopped for a short rest.  People were passing by on the trail every so often, so we knew we were still in a safe area…we’d even ask them “how far to the main road?” and nearly every person replied “you’re nearly there!”  Considering this, we didn’t worry too much about being dehydrated or lost or any of those other things you hear about idiot hikers doing.  Besides, we were merely idiot bikers that wouldn’t be so idiotic had the tire not gone flat.  In the middle of our laughing about the situation and discussing our resentment for the bikes, Awal looked up and said “Is that an apple tree?”  Now, I’ve never come across an apple tree in the Turkish wilderness before, but it looked as much like an apple tree as any other apple tree I’ve ever seen, and those red fruits dangling from its branches sure looked like apples.  Awal climbed the tree and from his perch tossed me a smaller one.  I caught it and after debating whether or not it was a good idea, took a bite from the semi-mysterious fruit.  Sure enough, it was an apple…about the best apple I’ve ever tasted.  We sat in the shade and ate as many of the ripe apples that we could reach on the tree and then continued on our way.

Remember earlier when I said that the passersby told us we were nearly there?  Apparently “nearly there” means “not very close” around here because it took about 2 more hours to reach the main road. Even though walking with the bikes was a royal pain, we had just enough energy and sustenance to get us through.  When we were hungry, we found apples, when we were thirsty, we stumbled upon a roadside stand selling water, when we were unsure about directions, we crossed paths with a British man on a BMW motorcycle who affirmed we were going the right way, and when we were thirsty again, we found a water spigot next to a campground.  Weary, heavy legged, and sick of being in possession of bicycles, we made it back to the Flintstone Cave Hotel and promptly began doing nothing for the rest of the day.