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Published: October 16th 2007
Safranbolu
December 3 - 5, 2006
Sunday
The 225 kilometer bus ride from Ankara to Safranbolu was uneventful, though we really enjoy the full service snack, drink, and perfume service. At a bathroom stop, we each got a little bite to eat, something like warm pita bread rolled with a little cheese and then grilled, a tasty treat that surprisingly filled us up.
When we got to Safranbolu we didn’t really get to Safranbolu. Our bus deposited us on the outskirts of town near an impossibly ancient looking steel mill in Karabuk. From here we followed the rest of the passengers on the bus and boarded a shuttle that would take us, we hoped, to Safranbolu. The town of Safranbolu is made of three distinct sections and the shuttle dropped us in the bustling city center of Kirankoy, where it occurred to us we did not have a clue where we should go from there. Thankfully, as we got off at Kirankoy an older gentlemen, who had also taken the bus, led us a couple blocks through the street to the public bus and told the driver we were bound for Carci, the section of Safranbolu known for
its preserved Ottoman style houses. The older gentleman was very nice and didn’t speak a word of English, and though we were unsure whether to follow him after numerous experiences being hustled in other countries, his only interest in us was to make sure we got to the right place.
After arriving in Carci, a much smaller, narrower, and quieter city center than we had experienced in Kirankoy, we went to the tourist office, which was closed for a break. Before we had a chance to get our bearings we were approached by a man about a room in his pensione, which Roger checked out while Amy stayed with the bags. The pensione was nice enough and had the charm of being located through a lower floor restaurant, but since we had traveled this far to see the Ottoman houses we thought we would just as well stay in one of them. We wandered through the slick stone streets and found Hotel Hatice Hanim (www.hotelhaticehanim.com), one of the traditional Ottoman homes that had been converted into a guest house. It was nice and we were warmly welcomed so for the cost of 70 TL so we had found our
Candy shop employees
are always happy to see a paunchy American.place.
The Ottoman style homes are large, spacious, square blocks of dark wood that stand about three stories tall. The hallways and rooms of Hatice Hanim are lined with all sorts of built in cupboards (our bathroom was even in a cupboard - a very clever use of space). The walls were full of beautiful recesses and every room and corridor had lots of open space and beautiful wood beam ceilings. Every floor had comfortable public sitting areas with long, cushioned benches. On the first and second floor the open seating was nestled along the beautiful glass windows as the building’s front. We were given a large, upstairs corner room that featured a beautiful sitting area, a big bed, and large windows looking out on the clusters of similar homes and businesses in the area.
Having dropped off our bags we went back to the information center where the helpful young woman pointed out a few sites on the local map, though not much beyond what we could have figured out for ourselves - the thing to see in the town was really the town itself. We walked around the town and through the market where numerous shops
make and sell the traditional woodwork the area is known for and Amy bought a cute little mirror with inlaid wood for 5 TL. The woman selling the mirror showed us a picture of a man and then pointed to her wedding ring, proudly showing us that the craftsman who made the mirror was her husband.
We stopped at Cinci Han for tea. Now an upscale hotel and restaurant, Cinci Han is a large, intimidating looking fortress built in 1645 as a caravanserai (essentially ancient, secured, truck stops). The hotel is beautiful inside and the staff very attentive. After tea we stumbled into a store so Roger could get some more Turkish delight even though his supply from Istanbul was not completely diminished. A search for a little ended up with a lot. Every time we asked about an item or requested a piece we would get a box. A wily practice designed to separate the tourist from a little cash, but one not without its merits in this case (merits being more Turkish delights for Roger).
After a quick stop in an internet café we returned to our hotel for dinner. The boy who checked us in
earlier, the son of the owner, also waited on us. He looked like he was about 12 but was probably 15-17. Every time we would order something he would go check to see if it was available. We had stuffed pepper and pide with spinach, which is a local specialty. Roger also tried the yogurt drink which was fine, if foreign, to an American pallet. The drink was just like the yogurt so common on Turkish food, just a little thinner. He had 2 glasses. Amy abstained.
The young man who worked the night shift at the hotel invited us to have tea with him so that he could practice his English. We had a nice conversation with him, sipping tea in the second level seating area near the windows. The young man is very committed to learning English, though as he works 12+ hours a night at the hotel we can not imagine when he finds the time. We gave him a copy of Wizard magazine Roger was carrying in the hopes that it may give him some help in learning English. This was fun for a couple of reasons, one being that we had to teach him
the word “frivolous” as if to apologize for the nature of the magazine, and two being that he may think all of the US is run by and for nerds. The most humorous part of the conversation was when Roger said “during Ramadan you give to the poor” and the young man heard something about Ramadan and “pork.” The look of horror on his face was incredible.
After a very good day we retired to our room to watch The Office on our computer.
Monday
There are some downsides to traditional Ottoman housing. For one, in December, it can become FREEZING. The room’s sole heater was located by the twin bed, on the other side of the room from ours, and it was simply not capable of keeping the room warm. We slept in our long underwear with two comforters and a few more blankets and slept later than we wanted because we did not want to get out of bed until the sun flooded the windows to warm up the room a bit. The other hiccup was in the bathroom where one faucet is off the sink and the shower was either cold/cool or a tiny
trickle of hot. The morning also included the loudest call to prayer we had heard to that point, an absolutely blaring wail of prayer ricocheting among the houses in the narrow town.
We had our first non-buffet breakfast in Turkey: three kinds of cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, bread, green and black olives, a meat that was a lot like baloney, a hard boiled egg, tea or coffee and cherry juice and peach nectar. The greatest joy for Amy (who has never met a dipping sauce she doesn’t love) was that there were three kinds of sauce for dipping, honey, berry puree and apple puree.
Our first stop was the Kaymakamlar Gezi Evi, an Ottoman home set up as a museum, for 2.50 TL each. The home was very nice and well preserved, though the furnishings would leave you to believe the Ottoman Empire forced people to sit exclusively on benches. Our favorite feature of the home was the costumed mannequins illustrating what a wedding celebration looked like. We got to see what “shower in the cupboard” used to mean - a guy sitting in a hole in a closet and washing - compare to the more spacious standards of
our guest house. Once the bathing was complete the cupboard was closed and covered and they would store blankets on it. The first bride’s room, reflecting tremendous foresight on the part of the Ottomans, was deluxe and featured a walk in closet.
Next we went to Hidirlik Tepesi, a flat topped hill overlooking the city. There is no obvious spot to pay the 1.50 TL each fee for visiting the park, but eventually a guy found us and collected the admission (he seemed official enough…) which included a drink in the price. For most of our visit we were the only people up there and we enjoyed the views until the cold inspired us to step into the little building where we could choose our coffee, tea or soda. There was a small seating area in one part of the building, which included a space heater, and we were asked to sit. The young man who served as our host was 25 years old and had been serving in the Turkish military up until January. We were joined for a while by the man who had found us to collect our admission. The young soldier spoke a little English
and the older man, who we would find out was 45, spoke none.
Like most of the Turks we had met they were very friendly and eager to talk and it was amusing to try to have conversations through sheer desire and our clumsy pronunciations of the words in the short Lonely Planet dictionary (perhaps not surprisingly almost without a single useful word, though it does include the phrase for “do you mind if I breastfeed in here.” Lonely Planet is apparently run by total assholes.). Despite his almost complete lack of English the young man managed “Bush bad” with a thumbs down and “Clinton good” while giving the thumbs up. He followed this with “Hillary” and held up two fingers (in two years, the context seemed to indicate). We found the whole exchange very amusing and lacking a grudging attitude as much as a simple expression of support. It has consistently amazed us as we have traveled how enormously popular Bill Clinton, and now apparently Hillary, remain abroad.
As we departed we invited the young man to America for ice cream (we have no idea how this came up or why ice cream, but it is clear
as day in our notes). At the end of our “conversation” we realized the young guy might have been asking for us to help him find a job in America and, as much as Roger wanted to explain he couldn’t help and remove any false promises, it was just too hard so we said ok (if we are ever contacted by the young man, freshly arrived in America carrying his worldly possessions in an old Turkish Army duffle bag, we will do our best to fulfill our promise).
We made a quick stop at an internet café that appears to serve as the video gaming capital of the region, and found out that both the Chiefs and the Broncos suck (Amy’s note here is that “Cutler might not be the promised one” but Roger must add that “he is better than that punk Plummer”). The night staff from our hotel was also at the internet café attempting to catch a score (soccer, we think) and so we pointed out that both of our teams lost. Common misery over the failure of one’s sports franchise, regardless of sport, is a tie that binds virtually all of humanity, from the Man
Turkish Delights!!!
Safranbolu Turkish Delights, Nuts and Sweets U fans in Hanoi bars to the Aussie Rules Football hooligans of Brisbane to the downtrodden traveling Chiefs fan…. We showed him the standings and pointed out where a few of the NFL teams were from - Cowboys from Texas, Chargers and Raiders from California, etc.
We went to Havuzlu Asmazalr Konagi, now a hotel but formerly a mansion, with an indoor pool, to have tea and to see another exotic style of local building (this one much more recently constructed and with more European influence but with colorful and articulate Turkish style tile work). We didn’t see the rest of the hotel but we really enjoyed being able to have tea in the “pool” room. The pool was big enough and deep enough to be a swimming pool but it was constructed to cool the house and provide harmonious sounds.
From the mansion we walked to the castle on the most strategically located hill around Safranbolu. The castle is gone now, replaced by Eski Hukumet Konagi, the government house, and a Jandarma (military) facility and a watch tower. This was another good spot to overlook the city, which is pretty picturesque from any angle. We felt a
bit awkward taking photos up there though because you aren’t supposed to take photos of the military (ever, ever, ever) but inasmuch as they are right next to the castle remnants / tourist attraction there was nothing we could do. Afterwards we found a little café for dolmas, manti and a tomato, egg, and green pepper mixture.
Strolling the small market streets, which offer a variety of wood carvings and metal work, Roger became oddly fascinated by the miniature Ottoman cupboard key holders. The thin, paper-light wood, was built to resemble the famous local doors, a style we both like, but nothing can really excuse our purchase. The thing was cheaply made, and not unreasonably priced, but, while light, was the wrong combination of bulky and fragile Roger carried the horrid thing next to our laptop for two more weeks in Turkey, through a stop in London, and across most of Morocco before we finally dropped it in the mail. After all of that, some day it will hold our keys.
After another short stop at the internet café to try and figure out where we were going to head next, we walked to one of the area’s
The View From Hidirlik Tepesi
Cinci Han, the old caravan cum hotel and restaurant, is in the foreground. more prominent mosques. Underneath the mosque you can see where the valley runs its deepest. The whole of Safranbolu is in a small, steeply sided valley, but this chasm in the center of town was pretty impressive. In this area we also saw where the real artisans were, a stark, sooty contrast to the souvenir shops that are more centrally located.
While we were walking around and looking at the various metal works we met Kazim Madenoglu, an artisan who had a small shop near his workshop with many beautiful things. Despite our lack of ability to communicate with each other he invited us in to join him and his adorable 6 year old for tea and to look at his wares. Shortly we were joined by Kazim’s wife and his 13 year old daughter who received a huge hug from her excited 6 year old sister. Whereas we fumbled a bit in buying the cheap wooden door key holder we may have goofed equally by not buying more of Kazim’s ornate and beautiful work. We bought 2 silver bowls and a very small mortar and pestle for 20 TL.
After the family packaged our items up he
invited us to see his workshop around the corner, a cluttered, drafty shed streaked with smoke stains. Tucked away in the back, and under a ceiling too low for Roger’s head, he showed us all of the many articles that had been written about him in various papers (including a Japanese paper) and a program from a show he was in at the University of Maine. Kazim showed off some pictures and a comment book from previous guests and then, we are not making this up, he had Amy lay down on the bench for a vigorous back massage (we guess he did it professionally for 5 years?). From Amy, “He had some moves I’ve never seen before and that weren’t too comfortable but after we left my back felt pretty good.” It was a little weird and surreal that a metal worker with a wife who wears a headscarf massages strange western women on his work bench, although he also offered to massage Roger (does that make it more or less weird?).
Before we left, and even after such a short time we were kind of sad to leave the hospitable and proud craftsman and his family, Kazim
showed us a variety of coins he had. We are not sure if these are proud family relics or if Kazim was attempting to pawn off fake ancient coins (a common occurrence, we are told), but he was most insistent that we study the coins and take photos of them. He did not seem to want to sell them to us but insisted on the pictures. A strange but warm experience.
It was after dark by the time we made it to the tourist office to try to figure out the bus back to Ankara but it was already closed.
W stopped at the room before heading to dinner at Cinci Han, which was atmospheric in the old caravan but one of the more mediocre meals we’ve had in Turkey (the uninspiring menu seemed geared toward foreign tastes). We had vine leaves, Sanfranbolu pide (with spinach) and some cigar shaped things, plus roasted pumpkin and tea for dessert.
At the hotel we sat for tea with the night man again. The couple who own the hotel were there, watching singers on the television located in the comfortable second floor seating area. We talked for a while and
left the night man with another magazine and some English newspapers as well as a Taco Bell tostado kit (that would seem weird if you did not know that Roger’s mother-in-law had brought a pair of Taco Bell do-it-yourself kits when she met us in Italy (a treasured gesture) and that Roger had carried the un-devoured kit through Florence, Cinque Terre, Venice, two towns in Slovenia, three in Croatia, a pair of stops in Bosnia, and a good part of Turkey, before realizing he was not likely to find a kitchen, ground beef, lettuce, refried beans, and tomato again in the same place for some time). The comedic value of trying to explain what it was and how to use it was probably worth the effort. The young man seemed grateful but we can’t tell if he really was or if he was frightened. He also asked us about how he could come to America to take an English class and if he could use us as references (we should keep a count of how many people want to use us as references).
After we retired to the room our friend reappeared with a bottle of Turkish wine for
us to try. We enjoyed the sweet gesture and, before we left, we picked out a few of the movies we had been traveling with to leave him - Cars, The Mask of Zorro and Dodgeball (all globally recognized for their value in learning English). Before bed we tried to watch a copy of Invincible that we had picked up in Thailand so that we could leave it, too, but it appeared to have been recorded at the drive in movies through a windshield covered in cow dung.
Tuesday
After breakfast we headed to the bus based on the schedule our friend at the hotel provided. We ended up in a bit of a rush to get there, taking a cab to the minibus and minibus to the bus office. The minibus was jam packed with people, including a hearty, grizzled old woman (the most stubborn of creatures in any country) sitting at the end of the row and not budging so everyone had to climb over her. The taxi driver gave Roger the kiss (cheek, cheek - that’s 2 now for him, if you are counting) and we were off to Karabuk.
At Karabuk Amy went
to the bathroom and the attendant hit on her. He was missing a few teeth but wanted to know if she was married, where she was from, what her job was, and he told her he loved her blue eyes (this, oddly, is just a few teeth short of how Roger first met Amy). We arrived in Ankara in about 3 hours (arriving at 12:30) and bought a ticket for the 1:30 bus to Konya where, we would arrive at 5. At the bus station we stocked up on the Turkish version of Hostess products, Pop-Kek, and had lunch. We’re not sure what we had but it was very good - like chili, with meat, tomatoes, green pepper, eggplant and it came with rice and bread. Try that at your local Greyhound terminal.
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