Two Weeks in Turkey, October 2011

Blue Mosque

When I told people I was going to spend a fortnight in Turkey I was met with a certain amount scepticism.  To be fair to those who thought that I may prefer an altogether less tame option, I could see where they were coming from.  According to the Foreign Office, Turkey is the holiday destination of choice for over 2.6 million Brits.  The coastline is littered with resorts advertising beautiful beaches, as many activities you could shake a stick at, and most importantly cheap alcohol; the polar opposite of my wish list when looking to relax.  I’d had a couple of recommendations; both of these from Yorkshiremen, the county's reputation was on the line…no pressure.

I’d read the minimal before arriving in Istanbul, I hate ruining the surprise, and booked a hostel in the shadow of the blue mosque and Aya Sofia, in the old town of Sulthanemet.  I woke up to streaming sunshine and a spectacular view of the minarets, set to a backdrop of flawless blue sky.  Breakfast on the terrace: a Turkish standard of a creamy feta-type cheese, cold hams, boiled eggs and weak coffee, meals throughout the day only improved.  I headed towards the mosques which are both gargantuan.  The inside of the blue mosque (which is free to enter) is beautifully decorated with intricate florals and stained glass; which lent the atmosphere a soft and inviting glow.  Despite the hubbub from the thousands of tourists swirling around you, the height if the domed ceilings seemed to absorb the commotion, it’s not hard to feel a sense of calm. 

Next I headed down the hill into the maze of streets which would lead me to the shores of the river Bosphorus.  The bridge which links the two sides of the city is a tumult of activity:  restaurants buzz on the lower level while amateur fishermen hang their lines from the upper.  There was more than one occasion I had to duck to avoid walking into a fish being hauled up from the glistening waters below. 

The mountains of Cappadocia were next on my itinerary.  After an erratic bus ride, (these coaches boast wifi and personal TVs and yet no toilets, the bus stops every few hours for a loo break; frustrating if, like myself, you can easily sleep straight through an overnight journey) I awoke to a moonscape.  The geology of the region is unique; a combination of soft basalt deposits, harsh winds and extreme temperatures have caused rippling undulations  to traverse cliff faces and towering spires of rock to majestically rise from the valley floors like the discarded columns of ancient temples from some prehistoric race of giants.  There are so many points of interest there was nothing for it but to join the hordes and book myself on a day tour.  The highlight was undoubtedly the underground city which was a labyrinth of tunnels burrowed as deep as 60m into the earth.  There are more than 20 subterranean refuges in the region, which would conceal the indigenous population from invading forces for up to 6 months at a time.  They come complete with churches, wineries (yes, more than one, although it is hardly surprising if you have to hide underground for months on end) and livestock stalls but, as seems to be a theme in Turkey, no toilets. 

Another nocturnal drive later and I was stood at the bottom of what looked to be a mountain of brilliant white meringue.  The pale, early morning sunshine highlighted the glimmering azure water that was cascading down the slopes and gathering in terraced pools, a stark contrast from the surrounding valley of rust blushed hills.  The spa town of Pamukkale has been lauded for the healing properties of the hot springs since the Romans; who, incidentally, have left many things lying around which are certainly worth a look.  I was through the entrance gates before 8am and as a result was able to luxuriate in the pools in solitary peace.  I was surprised to discover that much of the mountain has been artificially constructed to protect the natural travertines; however this doesn’t take away from the sheer magnificence of the experience. 

I don’t think a holiday is ever truly complete without a couple of days at the seaside.  Unfortunately my timing is anything but impeccable, within 24 hours of arriving I  n the coastal town of Kusadasi the heavens opened and rain battered the shoreline.  I considered traveling north in search of sunshine but the forecast was anything but encouraging.  Kusadasi is nice enough; the beaches are OK, the bars and restaurants are suitably touristy, the nightlife is loud, the souvenirs expensive.  I discovered it is possible to get burnt on a cloudy day but other than that slouched around the hostel, watching films with the two other residents who were also weathering the storm.