Before the Dawn of Civililization

---

Saban is 22 years old and just recently graduated with an English degree from a university in Tokat, Turkey. Outgoing, friendly, and eager to practice his English a bit, we bumped into this remarkable young lad in the spotless new bus station (which really felt more like an airport) in Keyseri. He approached us as we finalized our ticket, asking if we would like to hang out together to kill the 5 hours before the bus to Urfa left. We happily accepted his invitation for a rendezvous and settled on a cafeteria in the station to get a bite to eat and to relax before the long, all night bus ride.

For three hours we sat and talked to Saban, learning about his studies at university, looking through pictures of his friends, and sharing our travel stories with him. During our conversation, he walked us through an English presentation he put together as a class project on the life and accomplishments of Ataturk. We also chatted about Islam for a while, and, he was shocked to learn that the white American guy (me) he had been talking with all along was a revert. We continued our roaming conversation, and, as we went to settle the bill, Saban covertly paid for our meal as well (we later forced him to accept our reimbursement on an argument of his recent graduate status and lack of income...he complied).

As we made our way out of the restaurant, the conversation continued into the waiting hall at which point Saban invited us to come home with him to his village to meet his family. Always up for an adventure, we agreed but felt that we must be imposing considering this was the first time Saban had been home in two years and we were going to be arriving at 4am completely unknown to his family. He reassured us that his family would be honored to have us as guests and that this is customary. Rozita and I retooled our plan a little bit, got his contact information, purchased a calling card, tested the calling card by calling Saban’s mobile, and made arrangements to contact Saban in two days to finalize the meeting place and time. Once again the Turkish hospitality was on display and amazingly warm and genuine.

While waiting for our departure time, Saban and I made our way to the musallah in the station for mahgrib prayer, and, in our search for the musallah, came across yet another Turk who was floored to learn of my religious persuasion. After many “alhumdulilahs” this man insisted on buying a round of tea for all of us, although, he was in the middle of a meeting at one of the offices at the bus company. So, the man came downstairs to the café, purchased tea for all of us, quickly gave his ‘salam’ and darted off back upstairs to his meeting. This gesture then prompted the manager of the café to inquire as to why a man purchased tea for us then ran off. Saban told the man the reason, and, fascinated by my reversion, this gentleman asked if he could sit with us for a moment, have a chat, and, of course, purchase a round of tea for all of us. Four cups of tea later (we also had one with our dinner), I began feeling like a superstar and started contemplating just how may cups of tea I could consume before exploding.

Our bus finally came a couple hours later and we boarded to a service of drinks and snacks, beginning our 12 hour journey to the town of Urfa in eastern Turkey some 50 kilometers from the border of Syria. The bus ride was long, but, as with our other Turkish bus experience, it was surprisingly comfortable even considering we were in chairs and not sleeper compartments (as we experienced in China and India). Throughout the night, stops would occur every few hours at some well maintained full-service (toilets, cafes, snack shops, souvenirs shops, etc) rest-stop, where each arriving bus would be given a complete bath by staff bus-washers at the rest-stop. The amount of water wasted in order to give all incoming busses a fresh glimmer was staggering as each bus (which really weren’t even very dirty upon arrival) was sprayed top to bottom for about 20 minutes at each rest stop…this all seemed a bit ridiculous as our bus was washed 3 different times in the course of 12 hours.

Our arrival into Urfa was lunged at by an energetic Kurdish man in his mid-fifties (Azziz) looking to snag weary travelers at the bus station to take them to his house which just so happened to double as a guesthouse. Azziz seemed genuine, and offered up a stay (with dinner and breakfast) that was comparable to other places we had read about in Urfa, so, we decided to take our chances at the Lizbon Konukevi. Everything seemed pretty ok at Azziz’s house apart from the fact that the door to our room didn’t lock. Nevermind, we felt reasonably comfortable and took the leap of faith in trusting a complete stranger.

Not wanting to waste the day but struggling to find a crumb of energy after the night bus, we ventured out for a short walk to take a peek at impossibly old Urfa. Immediately obvious was that we had arrived in a much more conservative, and significantly less touristy part of Turkey as women were well covered and tourist traps were few and far between. The buildings in the city were mostly sandy brown and partially enveloped by the remnants of an ancient citadel hanging atop a cliff. Urfa felt incredibly ancient, and gave off a decidedly Middle Eastern vibe compared to the more European feel of Istanbul. We stopped by the cave where Prophet Abraham was supposedly born, fed the sacred carp, and explored the mosques in the area. Knackered, we drug our bones back to the Lizbon for an early sleep.

Day two was much more active as we started off with a brilliant trip to the newly excavated site at Gobeklitepe. Not open to the public, still under excavation, completely devoid of any tourists and of incredible historical significance, Gobeklitepe is not a site to be missed even if you are only vaguely interested in archeology/pre-civilization. It is not my intention to regurgitate historical facts in this blog (just bore you with our personal experiences), however, check here if you want a bit of background on this amazing site:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G%C3%B6bekli_Tepe

The site lies about 18 km from Urfa and really isn’t reachable (in any sort of comfortable way) on public transport of any kind, so, we arranged a private trip with Azziz and his trusty Toyota. Outside of Urfa and leading up to Gobeklitepe are some small Kurdish villages probably well worth a bit of exploration themselves. Along the road to the excavation site, Kurdish men and woman work their fields in the punishing heat and kids run about. Given our limited time and narrow focus, we pressed forward thru the villages to several hills that stood isolated and roasting in the afternoon sun of southern Turkey. Apart from the security guard who watches over the dig site, not a single soul was present on the hill currently undergoing excavation (the German archeologists are supposed to arrive back again in July), so, Azziz, Rozy, myself and the security guard roamed around the barbed wire erected to keep out thieves.

We spent a couple hours walking around the site amid a scattering of ancient flint cutting tools and scrap pieces used for carving the primitive pictures seen on the stone pillars inside the barbed-wire fence. Considering the age of the site (over 11,000 years old!) and the fact that it predates early ancient Egypt by several thousand years, it was difficult not to be sucked into the awe; especially when you can wander around, pick up ancient cutting tools, and view the primitive worksmanship of the tools most likely used to carve the designs in one of the (if not THE) oldest temples known to man. The visit to Gobeklitepe was a captivating experience and one of the more memorable moments of the trip. In 30 years once the excavations are complete and the site is open for tourism, this site will be a significant stop for anyone interested in learning about the evolution of man into the civilized world.

After Gobeklitepe, we returned to Urfa only to catch a dolmus towards Syria to another ancient city, Harran. Just 12 km from the Syrian border, Harran sounded like an interested stop with unique beehive shaped houses, a long history and biblical ties (Abraham married/lived there). Our dolmus (basically just a minibus) drove around Urfa for about 45 minutes picking up people, vegetables, and other random boxes of crap until we were stuffed uncomfortably like sardines for the 1.5 hour ride. After all the effort getting there, we were rather disappointed with Harran for a couple of reasons. First, because we were harassed by school kids who asked us for money to have them show us around, and second because there really wasn’t much to look at in the town! We roamed around the town for a bit, looking at the beehive houses, then headed towards the ancient castle where we met a nice man named Ali. Ali was an interesting character, just recently out of the military and settling into his new job as guardian/souvenir seller at the castle. We hung around the castle for a couple of hours, talking with Ali and two of his brothers, and, listened to a fascinating account of prophet Abraham’s experiences in Urfa (his birthplace) and Harran (place of marriage). Apart from the good conversation and story, there wasn’t much going on in Harran, so, we caught a dolmus back to Urfa in time for dinner.

Back at Azziz’s house, we ate a home-cooked meal of stuffed grape leaves and got to know a little bit more about our hosts. Azziz and his wife Mariam were both Kurdish and grew up close to the Iraqi border living their early adult lives as nomads tending to their flocks and raising their 8 children. As they approached their upper 20’s, they settled down in Urfa trading the nomadic lifestyle for a rooted existence. Their 8 children are all grown up now and have a total of 33 grandchildren among them. Mariam is illiterate, however, she speaks her native Kurdish tongue and quite a bit of English as well. Azziz speaks his native Kurdish tongue, Turkish and English (not sure which of those, if any, Azziz is literate in). Both Azziz and Mariam have traditional tattoos on their hands and forearms representing important memories from their younger years, and, Mariam has several tattoos on her face that indicate important celestial bodies. Mariam is a pretty good cook with a warm heart, however, her meals were a bit stingy on the meat. Azziz is a raving sexist as apparent in his one-sided conversation over dinner with a Czech couple (Martina and Ondra) who also happened to be staying at his house. I am stupid and forgot to take a picture of Mariam, however, I did manage to snap a shot of Azziz.

Azziz later confided in me his liking of Rozita because she is “quiet” and basically knows when to speak whereas the Martina (the Czech lady) was a bad woman who was rude and spreading lies. The point of contention came from the following exchange. In a general discussion on how beautiful Thailand is, Azziz asserted that Thailand is a terrible place and not worthy of a visit because young girls are sold by their fathers into the sex trade. Agreeing with the child abuse aspect of Azziz’s point and attempting to draw a parallel to another issue regarding child abuse, Martina asserted that some women in Iran are married off at extremely young ages (I think she may have used age 13 as an example) which she considered to be abuse as well. This concept didn’t sit well with Azziz and he continued to interrupt Martina when she attempted to further clarify her position calling her a liar and basically stating that child abuse could never happen in Iran. Azziz was relentless and became angry, continuing to block Martina from speaking until she finally just gave up trying to articulate her point of view. The evening meal ended in a weird way with Azziz leaving the table and the rest of us sitting there with Mariam who smiled and attempted to further underscore her husband’s point of view in broken English.

The final score :
Bigotry 1
Intellectual Conversation 0

Our last day in Urfa was a confusing mess as several different plans all failed leaving us no real option but to sit at the bus station all day long until our bus to Antalya arrived in the early evening. We passed the time inhaling other peoples’ smoke in an Internet café, purchasing .50 Lira toilet visits, and eating kebaps and baklava. Unfortunately our plan to visit Saban failed after we purchased our bus tickets to his hometown as we were unable to connect with him on the telephone. We ditched those tickets and continued on with our travels in the direction of Antalya with eyes fixed on Olympos.

*****************************************************************************************************************************************************
MY DEBUT NOVEL, Where's Unimportant AVAILABLE FOR SALE. VISIT www.danielshortell.com FOR DETAILS.
*****************************************************************************************************************************************************



STATISTICS

• Flights taken = 13
  
• Intercity trains rides taken = 19
  
• Intercity bus rides taken = 52
  
• Times lost = 35
  
• Total instances of diarrhea = 12
  
• Total number of requests for pictures with Daniel = 38
  
• Total megabytes of pictures taken = 43,230
  

---

Photos

MY DEBUT NOVEL AVAILABLE NOW!
Visit me at www.danielshortell.com for purchase information.

Comments

[Ariel Kantor]

Marhaba
Guys! It has been a while... We miss you terribly. First of all some good news - We are pregnant! 22 weeks already... Secondly, you are going to be really close to Finike (about 2 hours from Antalya). My mother is currently in Israel but will fly to Turkey soon. Contact us if you want to visit her. She can show around and as you know I am a bit biased but she is very nice and would love to meet you both!