Cappadocia

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Arriving in the small town of Ilhara, we were dismayed to find that all but ones of the pensions were closed as the season had officially ended. Of course, the one that was open would have to be 1 kilometre back up the steep hill that the bus had just brought us down. We lugged the bags back up the hill until some boys on their way home from school came and took Lindas' from her for the steepest section. They seemed happy with the 10p each that I bestowed upon them.

People come to Ilhara to see the Ilhara valley, which is fundamentally misnamed as it's not a valley at all. It is much more of a gorge, canyon or ravine consisting of a fissure in the earth 15 kilometres in length between the towns of Ilhara and Selime.

A stream runs along the bottom nutrifying a verdant assortment of trees and shrubbery.

The cliff walls, sheer in places, rise up 60 to 70 metres above the base. All along their length these walls have been sculpted to create cave dwellings, often at precipitous heights. There is easily enough accommodation to account for a population of several hundred or more.

These were talented people, for there are also churches cut into the rocks where religious frescoes of exquisite artistry remain. Painted 800 years ago, many of these masterpieces have suffered less from the ravages of time than from wanton defacement.

There is a well trodden path, mostly alongside the stream, from one end of the 'valley' to the other. We spent 2 days of solitude walking this path and its tributaries, investigating dwellings and churches, and generally giving thanks for finding ourselves in such a wonderful and peaceful location.

In Guzelyurt we lodged with a widow and her daughter. They shared an old Greek house with vaulted ceilings and had converted one room into a rather luxurious proposition for guests. We had our own 3-piece suite and coffee table but dined with the family and spent the evenings watching telly with them.

Dinner was taken kneeling or sitting cross legged around a low table inches off the floor. With my posture and inflexible joints this was never going to be a sensible arrangement and they found it highly amusing when I creaked and groaned my way back to an upright position at the end of a meal. It was interesting to share their meal, less interesting on the second day and we were happy to have left before the third dinner was due.

Guzelyurt is a small agricultural town. People ride their donkeys to the fields. In the evening an old woman herded about 50 cows through the main street. Some cows started turning down side roads and we thought the the woman was not in control but in fact each cow knew where it lived and was returning to its own nightly quarters.

Guzelyurt has its own collection of rock cut churches spread along a valley heading out of town. Unfortunately, on this occasion we attracted a posse of local children who obviously thought we would find it rather dull without their company. The next day was better as we walked across the fields, around a lake and up a hill to a monastery standing isolated in the middle of the plain.



Ramazan started on the 15th of October. No food or drink, or anything else for that matter, is supposed to pass through a Muslims lips during daylight hours for a complete lunar cycle. Drummers beat through the towns at 4am to awaken the local populace so that they may breakfast before dawn. In this area it appears to be universally observed.

The old men gather listlessly at the tea houses disdaining their usual pastimes of okay and backgammon, waiting for dusk. Other people have their normal jobs to do and it struck me as almost impossible for someone doing a heavy job, such as a construction worker, to go for hours without a drink. Many food and drink places shut during the day for lack of customers.

It emerged that many people stay up all night, have breakfast and then sleep all day which fulfils the obligations but seems to me to miss the point.

Come 6 O'clock, everyone shuts up shop and heads for home. They all have charts telling them the exact time of sunset and hold in abeyance until the given moment. It is undoubtedly a stressful period, even for those who cheat, and the fact that most people retain their good humour becomes more surprising with each passing day. For us (and anyone else) the answer is to be considerate and discreet. We buy our lunch the night before and eat it out of sight of the locals. In the tourist areas it is easier as most cafes are still open.


Goreme sits at the touristic heart of Cappadocia. The choice of pensions alone is overwhelming. After an uncertain start we took the easy option and went to the one closest to the bus station.

Some years ago I created a poster size enlargement of a photograph, which graced our bedroom wall during the years of home ownership. I knew this was a view in Cappadocia but didn't know where and was keen to find out. It didn't take long. It's a photograph of the next town of Uchisar, taken from the panoramic view point over Goreme.

Uchisar is built around a rock outcrop which is visible throughout the whole area. It is a natural defensive position, so has been burrowed through and called a castle. From the top you can see Goreme and the next two towns of Cavusin and Avanos, all seemingly insignificant when compared to the breadth of the ragged plain around them.

The area of Cappadocia is famous for its rock formations, which are both varied and wondrous.

Setting off on foot from Goreme, we walked all of the valleys in the area, each of which was different from the others.

In Pigeon valley we kept finding ourselves on petering tracks on high ridges, looking down on the path we wished we were on.

Rose valley provided panoramic views of the plains for miles around. In Honey valley we did battle with the undergrowth eventually opening up into an area where the upstanding rock formations were particularly and startlingly phallic.

Neskendiz valley, our favourite, was just beautiful. It felt like an enchanted garden raising our spirits.

Each valley has its own collection of unusual rock formations and rock cut dwellings, churches and pigeon lofts, and tiny lizards rushing to escape our footfall.

The area is so fascinating that I am really frustrated by the lack of factual information available about it. The strange landscape has come about by differential erosion of the volcanic rock strata, further modified by human activity,but there is plenty of room for further explanation.

The first inhabitants of the area arrived about 1200 years ago. These were thought to be hermits and monks who hollowed out their own accommodation and then began on the churches. Ordinary people arrived some time later and developed an agricultural economy amongst all the cones and tufts.

There must have been a fairly continuous threat of attack, judging by the number of defensive bolt holes and underground tunnelled cities. I find myself speculating at length about the geology and the lives of the cave inhabitants as we experience the landscape. An exhibition centre would make a huge difference to anyones understanding of this unique area..

Whilst on one of our daily walks we passed one of the major rock-cut churches. We hadn't intended to go in but the attendant was insistent, offering to let us both in on one ticket. Once inside he turned into a guide, dragging us along tunnels and passageways into various chambers and pointing out all the interesting detail we would otherwise have missed. Back outside he made us tea and gave us biscuits even though he could have none himself. We were getting along famously so when he invited us to his house for dinner that night we accepted readily.

Unfortunately, hr lived in the next village 3 km from Goreme, largely up a very steep and winding hill.

We bought a cake as a gift and set off. As we expected, Suleymans house was modest. It appeared to consist of one room and a kitchen and bathroom, rented at £19 per month, he said.

When we arrived his wife was not there and there was no hint of any food prepared which we found surprising as he would have been starving after a day of fasting. Nadia arrived after about 10 minutes and conjured up a very nice meal. We kept the conversation going through a mixture of pigeon English and pigeon Turkish.

I found out some interesting things about ordinary Turkish life, such as where they get their carpets and how much they pay. (Carpet shops are directed at tourists and are therefore the most expensive places to get a carpet. Apparently Turks usually get them through an informal local network).

Suleyman had 8 carpets in his small room covering the floor and seating. Like others in the area his work is seasonal and he gets laid off for 5 months over winter. He could go to Ankara where he would expect to earn about £130 a month, but his living costs there would amount to about £115 he doesn't consider it a sufficiently rewarding option. Linda and I both picked up a cold from this evening which persisted for several weeks.

In Avanos we visited the Hair Museum in the back of a pottery shop. Apparently, 25 years ago, a girlfriend gave the potter a lock of her hair. This gave him an idea and every female visitor since then has been invited to cut off a length of her hair and attach it to the roof or walls of this particular room. They reckon that there are now over a million samples creating a somewhat quirky spectacle.

Lindas peroxide lock can be found about a foot along the edge of the middle shelf near the door.

We spent 3 weeks in Goreme following tracks through valleys and along ridges, busing out to local towns and villages and doing the same there. On our last night our regular restaurant presented us each with a pair of woolly gloves and socks. Next morning Ali at the pension gave us a bottle of wine and more woolly socks. We're hoping that we wont get cold enough to need them.

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