Ramblin' through Romania - May 13-18, 2012

After a couple of hours touring the south-Romanian countryside we entered the suburbs of Bucharest. This is where we got our first taste of Romani culture. As we crossed several intersections of "highway" and more local roads, our car was repeatedly approached by bands of Romani hawking some of the most random things. Having traveled through quite a few countries where people selling things street-side was normal, this place won the prize for strange and random. Some examples of strange things being sold at street corners, to traffic, included: socks, underwear, housewares (ie ladles and spatulas), and even typewriters! Like, this guy was walking around with a typewriter trying to sell it to some passer-by driving in a vehicle! I guess everyone has to make a living somehow.

Marco was tight for time and had to get to the Bucharest airport to drop off the rental car and catch a flight, I had little to no clue where I was going, so I tagged along. We said our goodbyes and swapped Facebook info. And once again I was alone in a strange land with no real plan to speak of. A quick stop at a tourist info desk in the airport got me on a city-bus to the centre of Bucharest. As I stepped off the bus, the uniqueness of Romanian life was presented to me in living colour... I pulled my packs on and looked up to see an intoxicated fellow jeering at a group of young ladies. When his comments did not get the desired effect (I'm not entirely sure what a group of young women would find at all appealing or interesting about an intoxicated guy cat-calling them) he proceeded to drop his pants and vigorously wave his phallus at them. Welcome to Bucharest I guess.

At this time I was pretty much a blank slate as to what to do with myself. I was still groggy from sleeping on the bus and the megalithic cold-war communist architecture of downtown Bucharest was quite overwhelming. I mean, they have buildings that literally span two city blocks or more. I reached into my pocket and found a pamphlet from the X-Hostel in Varna. I recalled that Chitty and his pal were going to be heading up this way in a day or two and said they'd be staying at the X-Hostel in Bucharest. So I checked out the pamphlet map and set out to find my next lodgings. After nearly two hours wandering around Bucharest, my legs and my navigational ego gave up. I flagged down a cab, shoved the pamphlet into the cabby's hands and gesticulated that I wanted to get there. He looked at me with the universal, culturally transcendent look of disbelief and confirmed that this was indeed where I wanted to go. A little more cajoling got the cab moving... for like three, small city blocks. Turns out I had been walking circles AROUND the very street that the hostel was on... duh. So I tipped the cabby large and got myself a dorm-room bunk at the hostel.

Not really having thought about what to see on this leg of my journey I took advantage of the free hostel internet, caught up with some friends on the ol' Facebook, did a little bit of blog writing, and tried to determine where my yet-to-be-earned-credit-dollars would be best spent in Romania. By now I had made it from Ruse, Bulgaria to Bucharest, Romania and was tired, so called it a night. The next day I decided that two things needed to happen. First, although I had bought new socks in Istanbul, my shoes still remained really funky, so I needed to remedy that. Second, check out Bucharest. Thanks to my geo-political privilege it wasn't hard to find folks who spoke enough English to help me navigate my way around the city. It took a couple of hours to find some shoe-spray which solved my foot-stank issues after which I meandered around soaking up some of the architectural sites in the city. But, alas, anything involving people, like locals, that a tourist like myself could enjoy, wasn't happening till the weekend, and it was mid-week. So after a short day, I called it an early night.

Day two in Bucharest was more of me wandering around feeling lonely and getting ready to move on. I stuck it out till the end of the day when I came across a memorial for Vlad the Impaler (aka Count Dracula) and decided to head for my next destination... Transylvania. I checked out of the hostel close to noon the next day. I had literally JUST paid my bill and was walking out of the place when who do I see walking in? The kiwies! Chitty and his pal had just arrived. Traveling around the world this kind of stuff happens more often than one might think. So we exchanged high-fives and a few stories, I told them where I was headed next, Brasov, and they said they were headed there as well... in a few days. The hostel staff were very helpful in directing me to the appropriate buses and subways to reach the depot where I would hop the bus to Brasov.

After a pleasant bus-ride through the Romanian countryside, we entered Transylvania. Having been through Europe a few times already, the terracotta rooftops were beautiful, but not as breath-taking as they had been thirty-odd years ago when I first saw them on a family trip to the Czech Republic. Nevertheless, the feeling such towns inspire when viewed from above is timeless... the sense that people had lived in terracotta-topped-towns here for over a thousand years was palpable. There's just something about medieval inspired architecture that does that to you. I caught a local bus into the town centre and consulted the print-out I acquired from the X-Hostel in Bucharest about possible hostels to patronize. I soon shifted over to my Lonely Planet and made a mental plan of the places I would inquire at based on my current location and the straightest possible path from where I was to the furthest potential lodgings from where I stood. After two or three... "mehs"... I found my home for the next few days.

A funky little place with three or four floors of quality budget-traveler accommodations and entertainment, I can't for the life of me remember the name of this place. Their tourist desk was very helpful in terms of figuring out which Transylvanian sites I should see on my time-$$ budget. I settled in to my dorm space with a shower, some internet, and then a casual walk around the town of Brasov. Now I know I said these latest blog entries were to be more anecdotal than historical, but I just couldn't resist... So, here I was in Brasov, Romania and I got to thinking, surely there's got to be something of note in this quaint little Transylvanian city. And wouldn't you know it... there was!

Strada Sforii "Rope Street", the third narrowest street in all of Europe, was initially developed in the 15th century as a corridor that firemen could use, and it is first mentioned in 17th century documents. Its width varies between 111 (43.7 in) and 135 (53.1 in) centimeters, and it is 80 meters (262.4 feet) long. Sweet! Glad I got that one off my bucket-list.

Next up, and hard to ignore as it dominated the city's roof-scape, was the Biserica Neagră or Black Church. Built in the late 14th century by Bulgarian workers in the Gothic style, the cathedral is Romania's main claim to fame in terms of Gothic architecture and the largest Lutheran place of worship in the region. I've seen lots of cathedrals in my travels, and this one was undergoing renovations. But there's at least one novel story attached to this place. According to popular legend, a German child was disturbing the Bulgarian builders or told them that one of the walls was leaning. An annoyed Bulgarian pushed the child off the church tower and then immured his corpse in the church to conceal his crime. Charming. Also, the Black Church has a 6-ton bell, the largest in Romania.

Just around the corner from the cathedral I found the Piața Sfatului, the Brasov Council Square. In the center of the square lies the Council House, built in 1420. The tower, called the Trumpets Tower, is in fact much older, and was once a watchtower for approaching barbarians before being incorporated into the main building. It was the place where an alarm was sounded when danger menaced the city. What you see today is largely the result of an 81-year renovation after the great fire of 1689. Looks like I showed up at just the right time too as they have a ceremonial changing of the guard which I was about to witness. After the changing of the guards, I wandered through the pedestrian part of town before heading back to the hostel and calling it a night.

In the morning I decided to hop back on the tourist track and check out some of the ruins/castles in the area. Although, to my dismay, Vlad the Impaler's castle ruins (Dracula's castle man!) was way out of the way and amounted to little more than a ruined staircase to nowhere. So, I settled for the Transylvanian tour. First stop for the day's excursion was Peleş Palace aka Peleş Castle, nestled in the Carpathian Mountains.

Commissioned as a royal hunting preserve and summer retreat by King Carol I in the late 19th century, the castle cost the equivalent of about $120 million US to build and is situated on an existing medieval route linking Transylvania and Wallachia. The intricate detail put into every aspect of its construction is apparent in the murals decorating its interior and exterior walls as well as the finely crafted woodwork and sculptures all over the place. During the construction phase Queen Elizabeth of the Romanians wrote in her journal of the scale of the operation: "Italians were masons, Romanians were building terraces, the Gypsies were coolies. Albanians and Greeks worked in stone, Germans and Hungarians were carpenters. Turks were burning brick. Engineers were Polish and the stone carvers were Czech. The Frenchmen were drawing, the Englishmen were measuring, and so was then when you could see hundreds of national costumes and fourteen languages in which they spoke, sang, cursed and quarreled in all dialects and tones, a joyful mix of men, horses, cart oxen and domestic buffaloes."

When we got back on the tour bus I struck up a conversation with a British tourist named Melissa. Turned out she too was a teacher taking some time to explore abroad. We hit it off and ended up being travel buddies for the next few days. Our next stop for the day was at Bran Castle, one of Romania's most famous tourist attractions. This fame is partly due to its rather dubious promotion as "Dracula's Castle". The area has no connection with Bram Stoker's novel, which was set far to the north of here, and only the most tenuous of links with Vlad the Impaler. He may have attacked it once, but even this seems to be far from certain. Oh well, it was still a nice example of medieval architecture and had plenty of neat artifacts on display.

The first documented mentioning of Bran Castle is the act issued by Louis I of Hungary on November 19, 1377, giving the Saxons of Kronstadt (Braşov) the privilege to build the stone citadel at their own expense using their own labor force; the settlement of Bran began to develop nearby. In 1438–1442, the castle was used in defense against the Ottoman Empire, and later became a customs post on the mountain pass between Transylvania and Wallachia. It is believed the castle was briefly held by Mircea the Elder of Wallachia during whose period the customs point was established. Up until the 18th century the citadel was a strategic military point. The artifacts inside were enough to make any fan of medieval warfare drool.

After a lunch at a local village eatery our tour group hopped back onto the tour bus and meandered through the Transylvanian countryside to our final destination for the day...the Rasnov Fortress. Built in the 13th century during the reign of the Teutonic Knights, the fortress played a key role in protecting the villagers living in the surrounding Transylvanian countryside from the seemingly endless stream of invaders that plagued the area during medieval times. Some of the sieges lasted decades forcing the villagers to turn the fortifications into dwellings. The citadel was conquered only once in the early 1600's due to its lack of a well. The invaders discovered the path to get to a nearby secret spring and used it to breach the fortress.

Following this defeat the denizens of the citadel decided to dig a well in the rocky soil within the walls. I don't know why it is that so many historical monuments around the world often come with grizzly stories included. Perhaps it's a testament to the dark side of human nature, maybe all large projects (historical and contemporary alike) require some form of blood-equity. Whatever the case, this fortress had its tale. So, once the villagers discovered that there was no groundwater near the surface of where they started their well (the well ended up being 146 metres (479 ft) deep) they decided to put some Turkish POWs to work. The legend goes that they promised the prisoners their freedom once the well was completed. The two captives dug for 17 years before accomplishing the task. No one knows if they were ever released.

Back in Brasov Melissa and I were spent after a full day of sight-seeing. We went to a local grocer, bought some baguettes, cheese, meat, and beer, and made ourselves a simple dinner. We had done a fair bit of walking during our tours, so called it an early night.

The next day the rain and lightening paid us a visit. I guess I shouldn't be surprised seeing as we were in the Carpathian Mountains and spring had barely sprung. We entertained ourselves in the hostel entertainment room till there was a lull in the storm and decided to wander the streets of Brasov. Melissa hadn't yet seen anything in the town, so I showed her the stuff I had already seen. In addition, we were told that the lookout from Teresa Tampa might be worth a gander, so we hopped on a gondola to take us up. We still had a bit of a walk to get to the lookout... it was better than sitting in the hostel. We cut our exploration of the area short as the mists started rolling in. We ended up hiking down one of the many trails on the mountain before finding our way to a cafe and then back to the hostel. We were done with Brasov and Transylvania in general. As both of us were traveling alone and headed in the same direction, we decided that we would spend the next day journeying together to our next destination... Budapest, Hungary.

We decided to sleep in and check out as late as they would let us before hopping a train to Budapest. At this point I had given up on ever seeing Chitty and his buddy again, they didn't even know which hostel I was staying at. But lo and behold, just as Melissa and I finished paying our bills and huffing our packs on, who should walk up to the hostel front desk? The kiwies!! Un-freaking-believable! We exchanged a few brief words, but, alas, we had a train to catch... well, we needed to get last minute tickets, which meant we had to be at the station early. We gave them a quick run-down of the what-to-sees around Transylvania and off we went. It truly is a small world on the tourist track.

We made it to the train station with some time to spare. As I learned early on in my travels through countries with weak currencies, it's best to get rid of your cash while still in the home-country because finding anyone willing to exchange it outside the borders is difficult at best. I still have a bunch of Indian Rupees I was never able to get rid of after leaving India. So we spent whatever Romanian Leu we had remaining on snacks for the 12-13 hour train ride and set up camp on the platform. Now, two days earlier on our tour of the Transylvanian countryside Melissa and I tried to get some tour-group cohesion going. Both of us had experience with this and knew that getting a bunch of travelers on the same page more often than not leads to good times and tall tales. The only other native English speakers in our tour group had been three young (and I mean like 18 years old) Aussie girls on their European grad-trip. Try as we could, they seemed pretty insular, maybe they were just shy and wide-eyed having never traveled before. They stuck to themselves on the tour and at the hostel despite our efforts to engage them.

The reason I bring this up is because as we were waiting on the train platform a couple of young (like 8-9 year old) Romani kids approached us looking for handouts. They appeared truly pathetic and heart-wrenching. Sadly, we had just spent the last of our hard currency on snacks. I had like a few coins that I gave them, but that was it. The poor little guys were very determined to pull on our heart strings to get some more, but we literally had nothing left and they didn't look like they took Visa. Just as the boys started escalating their antics in the hopes of shocking some more money out of us, who should step onto the platform? The three Aussie girls. Now, admittedly, what we did next was questionable, but it truly seemed like the only option left to us. We tried our best to communicate our lack of hard currency for the boys and they were about to literally start urinating on one another in an effort to extort money we didn't have (I am not exaggerating here, the older one was unzipping his fly while the younger was assuming the position - dreadful). So, we pointed out the three Aussie girls and indicated that far greener pastures lay in their direction. I don't know who to feel more sorry for, the Romani waifs or the poor green-to-traveling Aussie girls. By the looks of it the girls shelled out some Euros and the boys performed a variety of gymnastic maneuvers in exchange until the train arrived. Farewell Romania!

Am I in Prague Yet?: May 9-May 13, 2012

The trip through the Turkish outback was dark, long, and monotonous, but I was quite tired from my day of scampering through the Cappadocian wilderness. One thing I hadn't thought about before my previous day's adventure were the possible consequences of hiking around in 30C+ heat for 6 hours wearing my recently purchased plastic sneakers. As usual, when trying to sleep on a bus, I took my shoes off to get comfortable. I admit, they were olfactorily noticeable, but the locals on the bus weren't that much better off. At our first rest stop I woke up and started putting my shoes on to go get a snack. One of the bus-waiters approached me as I was getting off the bus and, in broken English said,

"Sir, this way please... I must speak with you", and I responded cordially. He leads me by the arm around the corner of the parked bus and leans into me real surreptitiously like and says,

"Sir, your shoes... they are very very bad", in heavily accented English.

The poor fellow looked awfully embarrassed having to inform me that my foot stank was a closed-space problem. I took it in good stride and, begrudgingly, agreed to keep my footwear on for the rest of the journey.

I awoke shortly before the bus entered central Istanbul. I worked the cricks out of my body best as I could in the confined space of the bus seat. They gave us pre-packaged muffins and instant coffee just before we arrived at the main bus depot. Even though I completely agreed with the bus-waiter's call on my stinky feet, I still felt ejected from the bus after the shoe fiasco. I felt the bite of the chill Istanbul morning air as I exited one of the bus depot buildings searching for a place to buy a ticket into Bulgaria a.s.a.p.. Following Lonely Planet directions I quickly found and bought a ride to Burgas, Bulgaria leaving in about 90 minutes... enough time for a quick bite of breakfast, my last real Turkish coffee, and a new pair of socks for the next leg of my bus journey.

Now when I planned this leg of the trip out, I thought I had it all figured according to the map I was using. And, in a perfect world, it should of worked out as I had envisioned it. But, alas, transport between Turkey and Bulgaria at the crossing I had chosen is not the most profitable in a direct line. The bus meandered for several hours through the Turkish countryside picking up passengers in many villages and towns. It was very beautiful, but my limits for this type of travel had been exceeded... I just wanted to get where I was going already.

It had been a few months since I had done a land border-crossing and the uniqueness of the reality of the situation was refreshing. We went from multi-lane highway to mountain road, with a brief march on foot through a forest covered border-crossing, before getting another glimpse of the Black Sea to the east from curving mountainside roads. I had been engrossed in my Lonely Plant for awhile now and really had my heart set on getting to Sozopol. I just wanted a nice chill place for a night or two to gather my thoughts. The bus approached Burgas from the south and had its last rest stop at the turn off to Sozopol. I felt really torn about being lazy and just heading in to Burgas, or making the effort to figure a way from a highway-side rest stop to a village 15 kms away. As it panned out, I met a kiwie fellow went by the name of Chitty at the rest stop who happened to be on the same bus with me. Turned out he was meeting his other kiwie pal in Burgas to begin their eastern Europe journey... guess I'm going to Burgas...

Since I hadn't planned on going to Burgas originally, I hadn't researched possible hostels or accommodations, or maps for that matter. Luckily, Chitty had a smart phone on hand with a little google maps action. After consulting some google maps, we determined the general direction of the hostel we needed to get to in order to meet Chitty's buddy. Awesome. One minor problem confronted us at this point. Our google maps was in English, using the English alphabet, while all the street signs were written in Cyrillic (like crazy Russian alphabet - just think, Burgas = Бургас in Cyrillic). So even though we knew where we were and where we needed to get to, signage was NOT going to help us in our journey. So I got to thinking, who in Burgas, Bulgaria might speak good English and be open to helping out a couple of foreigners without running some sort of scam?... we just happened to be walking past a bank of some sort as this thought skittered across my brain and I, naturally, came to the conclusion: ask a local bank manager, they ought to know English! Even though I had already been through 13 countries at this point in my journey, I forgot how enthusiastic locals can be when encountered with the opportunity to help out native English speakers... bizarre type of cultural privilege, for sure, but we got our directions sorted out right quick. Eventually, we sauntered up to a blacked out glass door with a little sign above indicating the hostel of our choice. We buzzed in and a raggedy looking 20-something guy answered. The hostel turned out to be more of a downhill mountain biker clubhouse/tattoo parlor with a few extra rooms for rent to pay the bills. The hosts were cool and promptly directed us to the bar.

After a night of swapping bar tricks with mountain bikers, the kiwies and I went for a walk around Burgas to soak in some Bulgarian culture. At this point in my journey, I was feeling a little tired of all the history and sites. Don't forget, I had just been through 13 or 14 other countries touristing it up. The boys weren't very impressed either and were eager to get moving on to the next tantalizing destination. After a brief consultation of our combined Lonely Planets we determined the location of the bus depot that might get us to Sunny Beach. Apparently, this was supposed to be quite the "cultural" spot around the time of year we were there... college spring break was about to happen and the kiwie boys were at the beginning of their journey and chomping at the bit for some... culture. So we caught the bus and off we went.

We got dropped off at the bus depot in Sunny Beach, a little bit off to the side of the main Sunny Beach drag. I pulled out my Lonely Planet and the boys pulled out their smart phones. After a few ridiculously over-priced tourist pits we decided to shoot for cheap-and-close-to-the-beach. Following sketchy directions communicated in very bad English we found the "hotel" we were gunning for. Now, I say "hotel" because, well, we arrived literally on shoulder-season. This meant that pretty much everything that was going to happen in Sunny Beach, was going to happen in like 4-5 days. Street vendors were setting up, hotels were preparing, and the place we chose to go to was little more than a ghost-town; so much so that when we walked into the lobby, the lights were out and NOBODY was anywhere to be seen. Being a bit of a miscreant (just a bit mind you) I took it upon myself to explore this unlocked, apparently shut down hotel. I mean come on... can you say harmless mischief and FUN? So we tooled around the premises for like 20 minutes checking out the rooms and layout. We had just about given up when I decided to go down a dark hallway behind the concierge desk. Upon my return some sort of care-taker eerily appeared, kind of like a spooky butler in Dracula's castle. We chatted the guy up and as it turned out, the hotel was indeed open for business (regardless of its no-power-or-staff appearance). We negotiated a room for something like $20 US/night for the three of us and promptly settled down in anticipation of the heralded "culture" we were about to experience.

~ My camera died at this point. So, sadly, no more pics till Romania, but you can optimize your travel-blog experience by doing a brief google search for photos from Sunny Beach, Varna, Golden Sands, and Ruse all in Bulgaria. ~

I'm not entirely sure how to communicate the atmosphere of this tourist-based-economy city to anyone who hasn't lived in such boom-and-bust places. Suffice to say that, regardless of all the bling-bling of neon signs, street-hawkers, and seedy "legitimate business people", it felt like a hollow coconut waiting to be filled with some delicious, tropical, fruity alcoholic beverage. We wandered around this shell of an economy along luxuriously organized city planning tourist routes trying to find some place with... well... people. It was kind of like Mad Max meets good urban planning. Pretty bizarre. We managed to find some trouble to partake of, but ended up calling it an early night with admonitions of the great things to come at our next destination... Varna.

It wasn't hard leaving Sunny Beach. Sure it was sunny and there was plenty of "cultural" potential, but we weren't willing to waste 4 days waiting for it to happen. Another local bus got us to Varna at which point we needed a cab, because our hostel of choice, X Hostel, was a wee bit off the beaten track. Once we arrived the colossal bad-timing of our sojourn through Bulgaria became exceedingly evident. The "culture" wasn't going to happen for at least another half a week. Gah! Oh well, some good came of it. I met a couple of German fellows who were pretty cool, Rene and Marco. Rene was doing a work exchange in Varna and Marco was traveling through. Rene took us out to experience some Varna night life... which was... interesting.

At this time Bulgaria was pretty much still a recovering second world economy. So when people went out to "clubs" it was a once a month kind of thing where everyone dressed up REAL nice and behaved... posh-like. It was also just days away from the tourist explosion that occurs in this part of the world around spring break, so the air was thick with anticipation, and people were generally tourist-cautious. Our group still managed to have a good time. Eastern Europeans take their dance-club dancing pretty seriously, so some of our antics pushed some limits, but I think, overall, everyone enjoyed the spectacle.

The next day Rene took us to visit Golden Sands, a kind of hot spot.. or it would be in 3 days! So once again we experienced the ghost-town quality of businesses getting ready for an influx of thousands of college-break revelers. Rene had "industry-worker-cred" at lots of the places around the beach area... so we took full advantage. It was pleasant, and we spent some time frolicking in the Black Sea. At the end of the day.. did I mention that I was feeling pretty burned out from traveling for over 9 months?.. we ended up back at X Hostel for a huge potlucky-kind of dinner involving, what I estimate to be one of Bulgaria's favourite past-times, drinking Rakia. Apparently, as a kind of throw back to communist times, most towns and villages in Bulgaria have access to a local community distillery where people may bring whatever fruits grow near their domiciles and convert them into high-proof... Rakia. It was a good night... the morning kind of sucked.

At this point the kiwies were ready to dig in and wait for the "culture" to happen in a couple of days. Me? I was burning through credit to stay alive and just wanted to get to my dad's place in the Czech Republic a.s.a.p.. Fortunately for me, Marco had a rental car and was heading for Bucharest, Romania... my next destination. So, I made a deal with Marco and off we went northward to the border crossing at Ruse.

Even though Europe has been out of the Cold-War for like 24 years at this point, the Eastern Bloc still had a very... trying-to-not-be-a-third-world-country feel to it. Albeit it wasn't like Laos where the highway from the capital city to the 2nd largest metropolis consisted of 100m chunks of paved highway interspersed with 200m pot-holey mud tracks, it still took the better part of a day to travel the 200 kms from Varna to Ruse. Marco and I decided to save the border crossing for the morning... that, and he had booked a 2-bed suite in Ruse, and had no one to fill the second bed. We definitely experienced some Bulgarian culture that night; so much culture that we nearly missed the noon check out at the hostel we were staying at. After the "where am I going today" transport of South America and Southeast Asia, the pre-booked, personalized travel of India, and the spontaneity-based travel through Turkey... the border crossing between Bulgaria and Romania left me VERY grateful that I was in a rental car. There was no sign of bus or train type transit anywhere around the Ruse border crossing. In fact, the road to the Bulgaria-Romania border looked like little more than some country road that all-of-a-sudden opened up into a huge truck-stop like border crossing. They pretty much just waved us through upon seeing our Canadian and German passports.

Continuing Cogitations ~ After two years, the conclusion to my cosmopolitan cogitations (Posted Sept. 2014)

Guilt? Irresponsibility? Half-assing it? No, I don't think those concepts accurately reflect why I took so long to conclude my around-the-world travel-blog. The truth is, as awesome as it sounds to be able to travel around the world and live out of a backpack for ten months, if you're the least bit sensitive, the experience of how "the rest" live is pretty mind/soul/perspective shattering. Yes, it's taken me two years to digest that ten month journey through the down and dirty of the people of planet Earth.

Sunset on Isla del Sol, Lake Titicaca, Bolivia

The remaining chapters of my trip are less historical and more anecdotal than the rest. Although I did end up learning about the cultures and places I visited, the passion to share that learning had waned during the tail end of my journey. Not because it all isn't awesome and though-provoking, but because, after bouncing around for nearly a year, the mind and heart begin to wander in the direction of home and the comfort-zone. So, here are the final chapters to my trip around the world... I have many thoughts, conclusions, and paradigm shifts to share, maybe. But first, the conclusion of cosmopolitan cogitations...

And, yes... I have a thing for using alliterative devices.

Half a Turkey: Apr. 22-May 9, 2012

Janet and I didn't sleep much before getting on the plane from New Delhi to Istanbul, so most of the flight was spent recuperating from the constant attention we got as foreigners in India. We landed in Istanbul in the morning so had plenty of time to sort things out. I was just happy that we could actually do some proper "backpacking" as in India we had more or less everything planned out for us. We got out of the airport and headed for the subway station so we could get into downtown Istanbul. Thankfully, Turkey has a substantially better infrastructure than India... and by this I mean THEY HAVE SIGNS. It was relatively easy to get ourselves to the Beyoglu district where the hostel we had chosen from our guidebook was. Although, we did have a bit of an adventure actually finding the specific street... nothing really new to me, but Janet got a thrill out of wandering randomly around an alien city with her backpack on.

Apparently the part of the city we had wandered into was the sight of a terrorist bombing or bomb threat a few years ago, but it sure didn't seem like it while we were there. After getting a bit lost and talking to some locals, we finally found the hostel we were looking for. The heat seemed to have followed us from India, so at this point we were sweaty, a bit tired, and hungry. The hostel owner spoke good English and was a cool guy. He was quick to get us settled and volunteered to walk us to a near-by kabap stand he said was cheap and good. What awesome, friendly, NOT-RIP-YOU-OFF service... we were ecstatic!

So... a little bit about Istanbul... It is the largest city in Turkey, forming the country's economic, cultural, and historical heart. With a population of 13.4 million, the city is at the center of the second-largest urban area in Europe after Moscow, and among the world's largest cities by population within city limits. Straddling the Bosphorus—one of the world's busiest waterways—in northwestern Turkey, between the Sea of Marmara and the Black Sea, Istanbul is a transcontinental city, with one third of its population living in Asia but its commercial and historical center in Europe. Founded around 660 BC as Byzantium on Seraglio Point, the city now known as Istanbul developed to become one of the most significant cities in history. For nearly sixteen centuries following its reestablishment as Constantinople in 330 AD, it served as the capital of four empires — the late classical Roman Empire (330–395), the Eastern Roman ("Byzantine") Empire (395–1204 and 1261–1453), the Latin Empire (1204–1261), and the Ottoman Empire (1453–1922). It was instrumental in the advancement of Christianity during Roman and Byzantine times, before the Ottomans conquered the city in 1453 and transformed it into an Islamic stronghold from which the last caliphate ruled. Although the Republic of Turkey established its capital elsewhere, in Ankara, remnants of Istanbul's previous central role still remain highly visible across the city, with palaces and imperial mosques lining its hills.

Our first full day in Istanbul had two priorities... suss out the possibility of Janet getting visas to continue with me through Eastern Europe and see some of the sights in the Sultanahmet District of the city. After a bit of a wild goose chase around Istanbul we learned that people holding Chinese passports have a hard time moving freely around the EU. With somewhat of a headache over the matter, we trekked to the Sultanahmet District to check out some of the wonders it had to hold. First stop, the Basilica Cistern. Built during the 6th century during the reign of Byzantine Emperor Justinian I, it is said that 7,000 slaves were used to construct it. It is capable of holding 80,000 cubic metres of water and is supported by 336 columns most of which were taken from former ruins or constructions around the empire at the time. Originally used as a water filtration system for the The Great Palace of Constantinople, it was later used, after the Ottoman conquest of 1453, to provide water for Topkapi Palace. Needless to say, wandering around in this place was awe-inspiring, even with the occasional drip-drip on our heads as we marveled at the Ionian, Corinthian, and Doric columns.

After spending some time in the musty cistern, we headed back into the sunlight to check out the famed Blue Mosque just across the street a bit. The Blue Mosque is called such because of the blue tiles adorning various of its surfaces, but it's true name is the Sultan Ahmed Mosque. Built from 1609-1616 during the rule of Ahmed I, the mosque is considered the last great mosque of the classical period. It has 6 minarets, 8 domes, and 1 large main dome and contains 20,000 ceramic tiles. It is quite a massive structure as we discovered by having to go through a "non-believer's" entrance around the side. Once inside the size and scope of the place is quite breath-taking. Even with hundreds of tourists jabbering about, you could still get a sense of peace while inside. While there I ran into a fellow Canadian from Alberta. We got to chatting until we were ushered out so that a prayer session could get under way. Once outside, the heat began oppressing us again, not to mention my oh so soar feet. Earlier in the day we had bought me a pair of new shoes as my airwalks had suffered dramatically during the last 8 months of travel. Unfortunately, my shoe size is not so common in Turkey, so we ended up getting a pair that were a tad bit on the tight side. We made for the hostel and my flip-flops before wandering around Beyoglu in search of some Turkish cuisine. Then the Raki got us and the night was over.

Next day we decided to walk around a bit before heading for Topkapi Palace. Thank goodness we did because we stumbled upon the oldest tower in the world, the Galata Tower. Completed in 1348 C.E. and originally named the Christea Turris (Tower of Christ) it was part of the Genoese colony that underwent expansion at the time. The tower formed the apex of the fortifications surrounding the Genoese citadel of Galata. Starting from 1717 the tower was used by the Ottomans to spot fires in the city. It is said that circa 1630-1632, Hezarfen Ahmet Celebi flew as an early intercontinental aviator using artificial wings for gliding from this tower over the Bosphorus to the slopes of Uskudar on the Anatolian side, nearly six kilometres away.

After soaking up some stunning panoramic views of Istanbul we continued our journey towards Topkapi Palace. Along the way Janet and I got separated, so I figured we'd meet up somewhere in the Palace grounds. Construction began in 1459, ordered by Sultan Mehemed II, the conqueror of Byzantine Constantinople. The palace complex consists of four main courtyards and many smaller buildings. At its peak, the palace was home to as many as 4,000 people and was home to royalty until 1853. To be quite honest, after the soaring domes of the Blue Mosque and the gloomy ancientness of the Basilica Cistern I wasn't so impressed by the Palace. If anything I was a bit disturbed at the amount of space a single family occupied during some tough times for the rest of the city. One thing, however, that did stand out for me was the collection of jewels on display in its several museums, particularly the Spoonmaker's Diamond. This diamond is the fourth largest of its kind in the world at 86 carats (17 grams) and the most valuable piece of the Topkapi exhibit. It was amongst the gold, ruby encrusted jewels of an age now gone that I found Janet... not too surprising in my opinion. We wondered together at the massiveness of the Spoonmaker's Diamond as well as the legend that goes with it...

According to one tale, a poor fisherman in Istanbul near Yenikapi was wandering idly, empty-handed, along the shore when he found a shiny stone among the litter, which he turned over and over, not knowing what it was. After carrying it about in his pocket for a few days, he stopped by the jewelers' market, showing it to the first jeweler he encountered. The jeweler took a casual glance at the stone and appeared disinterested, saying "It's a piece of glass, take it away if you like, or if you like I'll give you three spoons. You brought it all the way here, at least let it be worth your trouble." What was the poor fisherman to do with this piece of glass? What's more, the jeweler had felt sorry for him and was giving three spoons. He said okay and took the spoons, leaving in their place an enormous treasure. It is said that for this reason the diamond came to be named "The Spoonmaker's Diamond". Later, the diamond was bought by a vizier on behalf of the Sultan (or, by a less likely version, it was the vizier who dealt directly with the fisherman).

 We ended the day with my feet feeling like they were being bent in half by the tight shoes I was wearing. So we decided to hit up every shoe store between there and our hostel in search of some properly fitting footwear. We were in luck! The first place we happened upon had my size, albeit in a rather less than promising style. No matter... my feet were delighted with the proper fit. In order to enjoy my new found mobility, we headed to a travel agent to get some bus tickets south to explore more of Turkey's wonders. Next stop... the ruins of Troy.

Located along the Aegean Sea at the mouth of the Dardanelles, the ruins of Troy are not much more than a large pile of grown over stone walls from various of the 9 or so ancient cities to have existed there between 3,000 B.C.E.-1 B.C.E. The site of the ruins was, in times past, a strategic spot due to its overlooking the Dardanelles, a narrow strait and the only access point to the straits of Bosphorus and the Black Sea beyond. Very valuable for exacting tolls on passing traders and defending access to the Sea to its north, for me the place was a must see as I had spent a good deal of time labouring through Homer´s Illiad back in my university days. There is still some controversy over exactly which layers of ruins belonged to the famed Homeric Troy, nevertheless, it was pretty cool to stand atop the hill the city was built upon and gaze down at the plains where surely Achilles rode his chariot and slew Hector in vengeance of his friend Patroclus´s death. Our tour guide was fairly resourceful and we got a fair bit of history along with the explanations of the various layers of ruins, not to mention a nice layer of sweat from the Aegean heat.

A quick minibus and ferry ride back to the sea-side town of Eceabat we awaited our night bus south to Selcuk. While there we learned of the recent Anzac Day celebrations that occurred a few days prior in memory of all the New Zealand, Australian, and Turkish troops to have perished during the second world war in the area. Once on the bus, it was an uncomfortable 7 hours or so to our destination. The buses in South America and even some in Southeast Asia were more comfortable than these! We got off the bus at around 5:30am in this sleepy little town with little more than our guidebook to get us to the pansion we were interested in. Thankfully there was a local out for an early morning stroll who gave us perfect directions to the hostel. As we rocked up to the place we realized that it was barely 6am and we may be out of luck. No problem, a very nice grandmother of the old Greek or Turkish variety let us in and generously offered us a couple of couches to crash out on until the office opened up for us to check in.

We decided to hibernate for the day and recover from the bus ride. The pansion was quaint and the people friendly. The next day we took our breakfast and organized a ride out to the nearby ruins of Ephesus. Ephesus was an ancient Greek city, and later a major Roman city. It was one of the twelve cities of the Ionian League during the Classical Greek era. In the Roman period, Ephesus had a population of more than 250,000 in the 1st century BC, which also made it one of the largest cities in the Mediterranean world. The city was famed for the Temple of Artemis (completed around 550 BC), one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Emperor Constantine I rebuilt much of the city and erected new public baths. Following the Edict of Thessalonica from emperor Theodosius I, the temple was destroyed in 401 AD by a mob led by St. John Chrysostom. The town was partially destroyed by an earthquake in 614 AD. The city's importance as a commercial center declined as the harbor was slowly silted up by the Cayster River. Ephesus was one of the seven churches of Asia that are cited in the Book of Revelation. The Gospel of John may have been written here and the city is also the site of a large gladiators' graveyard.

We spent a good three hours wandering along the few kilometres of these ruins. Not quite as free to exploration as the ruins of Angkor Wat in Cambodia, Janet and I still managed to crawl into some curious places where few tourists likely have been. Wriggling into some of the old rooms of the baths and corners of the amphitheaters, not to mention the bordello and library, gave us a neat little thrill. Nevertheless, it was HOT, I mean buckets of sweat hot, so we made for our pick-up spot with a certain degree of alacrity. Back in Selcuk we learned that the ruins of the Temple of Artemis were just around the corner from our pansion, so we got lost touring through Selcuk's streets until we found the entrance to the Temple grounds. Presently there is not much of the once enormous Temple, just one lonely column remains standing with other parts of the ruins sunk in an encroaching swamp. Archaeologists believe the sight of the temple was considered holy by peoples as far back as the Bronze age (3,300-1,200 B.C.E.) with many structures being built there in worship of various forms of the ancient Goddess, Artemis being the last incarnation to be worshiped there. The Temple itself had been rebuilt three times during its existence... destroyed the first time by a flood, the second time by arson, and the third, and final time, by the invasion of the Goths.

After a marvelous traditional Turkish dinner, the pansion owner inquired of us what the rest of our Turkish travel plans were. We only knew of the next immediate place we were going, so she offered to introduce us to her cousin who ran "Blue Cruises" along the Turkish coast from Fethiye to Olympos. After some negotiations we managed what we thought was a good deal... 150 Euros each for four days and four nights aboard a 29 metre yacht with everything except drinks included... sold! But first, a trip to Pamukkale and the ruins of Hierapolis.

Pamukkale means "cotton castle" in Turkish and is an apt name for the hot springs and travertines, terraces of carbonate minerals left by the flowing water, which are perched upon the hillside of the ancient spa city of Hierapolis. We only had four hours to explore the area between buses from Selcuk to Fethiye, so we trekked and sweat for most of the time, although Janet came prepared with a bathing suit to take a dip in the swimming pool of ruins... pretty cool. Hierapolis itself was built in the 2nd century B.C.E. to take advantage of the hot springs which pump out around 200 litres a minute. The gleaming white carbonate terraces were blinding in the sunlight while the azure waters in the pools beckoned many who simply jumped in fully clothed. Overall, a very cool place, probably worth a few days, but, alas, we had a yacht waiting for us on the coast.

A few more hours on the bus got us to Fethiye where we were informed that the yacht we would be staying on was without electricity for the evening, so the company was going to put us up in our own private room... okay! We got ourselves some delivery Turkish food, and spent the rest of the evening imagining what the next few days were going to be like. As we were eating breakfast in the morning, the hostel hostess let us know that our yacht awaited us. They were nice enough in the yacht office to let Janet sort out a ticket to Istanbul from Antalya so she could meet up with her mom in Beijing, then they ushered us onto the yacht and showed us to our cabin. There was only one other couple on-board aside from the captain, the cook, the cleaning lady, and the cabin boy who was called "Only". Apparently we were going to cruise to a nearby bay for some swimming and snorkeling before dinner, then we were going to await the arrival of the rest of the passengers. No problem, the weather was hot, the sea was cool, and the water was clear enough to do get some of that snorkeling in. The rest of the day involved some pretty tough sun-bathing and gourmet foods... once dark set in, we called it an early night.

The next few days kind of blended into one another as more and more passengers trickled on-board at various bays we explored. The weather was mostly balmy and water continued to be refreshing. By the time everyone was all aboard, we numbered about a dozen or so people. Aside from the general Mediterranean beauty continuously around us, we stopped at a few places along the way which should be mentioned. The first stop was at the island ruins of St. Nicholas. One thing which never ceases to amaze me about Asia and Europe are the plethora of ruins just left to crumble all over the countryside. We dropped anchor and went swimming for a bit before enjoying some lunch and gawking at the island ruins.

The next stop place was Butterfly Valley. This valley is accessible by boat or by a very nasty trail, so it is a nice quiet out of the way kind of spot. The valley is named for the rare and elusive Tiger Butterflies which swarm around the waterfall at the back of the canyon during summer. We were there a little early in the season to catch a glimpse of the butterflies, but we enjoyed a little hike up the canyon to the point where there is a sign indicating possible death to those who continue. We only had an hour or such, so we blasted up the canyon and back at a good clip. Still a nice little break from being on the yacht most of the time for the last two days.

Early one morning, while all the passengers were still asleep, the captain motored us to the seaside village of Kalekoy, also known as Simena, with its Byzantine castle ruins above overlooking the sea and the islands including Kekova. We were permitted to go ashore for an hour or so to check out the ruins which were originally a castle/fortress built to combat pirates in the area who largely based themselves off of nearby Kekova island. Back on the yacht we headed over to Kekova island to check out the partly sunken ruins of Dolchiste/Dolikisthe, an ancient town which was destroyed by an earthquake during the 2nd century. Some of the ruins in this area have not yet been properly dated, but some believe there may have been settlements here as far back as the Bronze Age. The area is under government protection, so we weren't allowed to go swimming or snorkeling there as it is still an active archaeological site.

The last of our noteworthy stops along the coast was at the "Blue Cave" also known as the pirate's cave. Technically people aren't supposed to enter this cave, but our Captain had it on good authority that the coast guard was nowhere near, so he allowed us to swim into the cave for a little bit. I only got to explore a part of it before the ships horn was blown and we were recalled back to the yacht. It's definitely a place I could have spent a couple of hours... oh well, still amazing! So we were on our way to the town of Demre where we would be picked up by a minibus and shuttled to the village near the ruins of Olympos. Still a little ways out from the town docks, I spotted some dorsal fins off the port bow. I signaled to the captain and he pointed the yacht in that direction. Soon enough we came up to a small group of dolphins or porpoises who were fishing and playing in the area. A couple of them even did a little bow-riding with us until we left their fishing area. Cool!

Unfortunately, we were unable to explore the cliff dwellings of Demre where the yacht dropped us off. We had a minibus shuttle to catch to get us to the town near the ruins of Olympos. The former city of Olympos was founded in the Hellenistic Period presumably taking its name from nearby Mount Olympos, one of over twenty mountains with the name Olympos in the Classical world. From these mountains of the Solymi, according to Homer, the god Poseidon looked out to sea and saw Odysseus sailing away from Calypso's island, and called up a great storm that wrecked him on the shores of the island of Nausicaa. The coins of the city of Olympos date back to the 2nd century BC. It was described by Cicero as an ancient city full of riches and works of art. The city became one of the six leading cities of the Lycian League. In the 1st century BC, Olympos was invaded and settled by Cicilian pirates. This ended in 78 BC, when the Roman commander Publius Servilius Isauricus, accompanied by the young Julius Caesar, took the city after a victory at sea, and added Olympos to the Roman Empire. The pirate Zenicetes set fire to his own house and perished. The emperor Hadrian visited the city after which it took the name of Hadrianopolis for a period, in his honour. The chief deity of Olympos was Hephaestus, god of fire and blacksmiths.

We decided to stay put in Olympos in a "treehouse" hostel for a few days to relax and take in the ruins. During our stay we learned of another fascinating sight nearby. Near Olympos, located in the neighbouring village of Cirali and about 200 metres above sea level, the eternal flames called the Chimaera may be seen issuing from the ground. The fuel source for the flames is natural gas, largely methane, seeping through cracks in the earth. The mythical Chimaera - or Chimera - was a monster with the head of a lion, the body of a goat and the tail of a serpent, who roamed these woods and sprouted fire from her mouth. The tour to check out these sacred flames happened at night for better visibility of the fires. As we hiked up the millenia old staircase to the site of the flames, I imagined how it might have felt to be a villager two thousand years ago witnessing the eerie spectacle of seemingly magical, undying flames dancing on the hillside... I thought it was pretty awesome.

After three nights in the relatively sleepy community near Olympos, we hopped on a minibus and headed for the city of Antalya. Although we only had one day and one night in the city before Janet headed for China and I headed for Cappadocia, we managed to see a few of the sights. It is uncertain when the site of the current city was first inhabited. Attalos II, king of Pergamon, was believed to have founded the city around 150 B.C.E., naming it Attalia and selecting it as a naval base for his powerful fleet. However, excavations in 2008 in the Doğu Garajı district of Antalya have uncovered remains dating to the 3rd century BC, suggesting that the city was founded earlier than previously supposed. Antalya became part of the Roman Republic in 133 BC when King Attalos III of Pergamon willed his kingdom to Rome at his death. The city grew and prospered during the Ancient Roman period.

Christianity started to spread in the region after 2nd century. Antalya was visited by Paul of Tarsus, as recorded in the Acts of the Apostles: "From Perga, Paul and Barnabas went down to Attalia and sailed from there to Antioch after preaching in Pisidia and Pamphylia" (Acts 14:25-26). Antalya was a major city in the Byzantine Empire. It was the capital of the Byzantine Theme of Carabisiani which occupied the southern coasts of Anatolia and the Aegean Islands. At the time of the accession of John II Comnenus (1118) it was an isolated outpost surrounded by Turkish beyliks, accessible only by sea. The city, along with the surrounding region, was conquered by the Seljuk Turks in the early 13th century. Antalya was the capital of the Turkish beylik of Teke (1321–1423) until its conquest by the Ottomans.

Early the next morning we took a taxi out to the airport where I saw Janet off on her flight to Istanbul on her way to Beijing to visit her family. I hopped on a city bus and headed for the bus depot where I had already bought a bus ticket the previous day... I was headed for Cappadocia, specifically the town of Goreme. Incidentally, the name "Cappadocia" means "land of beautiful horses" as many fine horses were found here throughout history. The bus ride was long and uneventful... about 13 hours in total. It dropped me off in the town of Nevsehir around 9pm, long after any local shuttles were running to Goreme. My only option was to hail an over-priced taxi to get me to my destination around 20kms away. Once I got into the town I went straight to one of the hostels listed in my guidebook, booked a tour for the next day, and made short work of getting to sleep... long bus trips are more exhausting than you might think.

The Next morning I got my day bag packed and finished breakfast just as the minibus pulled up to the hostel. First stop was the Goreme Panorama, but the weather was overcast, so much of the dramatic effect was missing. Next we drove for about a half hour to one of the many underground cities that may be found throughout Cappadocia, Derinkuyu. To understand the underground cities and fairy chimney's of Cappadocia, one needs to understand the area's geologic history. A couple million years ago this region had the unique experience of being covered by a shallow sea while three large volcanoes erupted simultaneously. The massive amounts of ash blown into the atmosphere fell to this sea and sank to its bottom forming hundreds of metres of volcanic ash silt. Another million or so years went by and the sea dried up leaving ash flats stretching as far as the eye can see. From that point the powers of wind and water erosion formed the soft materialed landscape into what we see today as well as what people saw in the region up to 3,000 years ago. The softness of the solidified volcanic ash made it easy to carve through, hence the plethora of human-made passages and caves in the area.

First built in the soft volcanic rock of the Cappadocia region, possibly by the Phrygians in the 8th-7th centuries B.C.E. according to the Turkish Department of Cultue, the underground city at Derinkuyu may have been enlarged in the Byzantine era. During the Persian Achaemenid empire the city was used as a refugee settlement. There are references to underground refugee settlements built by the Persian king Yima in the second chapter of the Zoroastrian book Vendidad. Therefore many scholars believe that the city may have been built by the Persians. The city was connected with other underground cities through miles of tunnels. Some artifacts discovered in these underground settlements belong to the Middle Byzantine Period, between the 5th and the 10th centuries C.E. The most common explanation for these cities is that they were built and used by early Christians to avoid persecution first by the Romans and later by Muslims.

This particular underground city consisted of 5 levels reaching depths of up to 60 metres. The city could accommodate between 2000 to 3000, maybe 4000 people maximum and had all the usual amenities found in other underground complexes across Cappadocia, such as wine and oil presses, stables, cellars, storage rooms, refectories, and chapels. Unique to the Derinkuyu complex and located on the second floor is a spacious room with a barrel vaulted ceiling. It has been reported that this room was used as a religious school and the rooms to the left were studies.

After an hour or so scurrying through these bizarre subterranean passages and domiciles, we piled back into the minibus and headed for our second stop, the Ihlara Valley. What makes the valley unique is the ancient history of its inhabitants. The whole canyon is honeycombed with rock-cut underground dwellings and churches from the Byzantine period. Due the valley's plentiful supply of water and hidden places, here was the first settlement of the first Christians escaping from Roman soldiers. In the Ihlara Valley there are hundreds of old churches in the volcanic rock caves. Our bus dropped us off at one end of the valley into which we hiked. We were permitted to explore some of the ancient carved out habitations as we walked around 7 kms to our lunch spot and where the minibus would pick us up and cart us off to Selime monastery.

The Selime monastery was carved out of the volcanic ash-stone in the 13th century by a bunch of Christian monks. Once again, it was likely done as a place of religious refuge where monks could freely follow their faith without being prosecuted by the Muslim powers that were running that part of the world at that time. We were given about an hour to run around the various passageways, cathedrals, and living spaces. For me, this was definitely a highlight, but, as I would discover the next day, it was nothing compared to my solo hikes through the Cappadocian countryside.

Last stop worthy of note that day was a panoramic view of Pigeon Valley. The valley gets its name from the many hundreds, if not thousands, of pigeon aviaries carved into the cliff walls. In the past pigeons were used for long distance communication while there eggs were a source of food and their droppings used for fertilizer. Ancient inhabitants figured the best way to ensure a continuous supply of these resources was to provide them with safe nesting areas and have them habituated to human contact. Once again, for me, the next day would prove more interesting to my explorer's lust. Back in town I was bored as night fell, so took the opportunity to wander around the town of Goreme and enjoy the bizarre fairy chimneys with nighttime lighting casting them in intriguing shadows.

In the late morning I got my act together and had a local outline on a map where some interesting areas around Goreme might be found. My first stop was the Goreme open air museum. This "museum" consists of several intricately decorated carved cathedrals and a well preserved monastery complete with living quarters, mess halls, and... more cathedrals. As it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site with lots of tourists coming through, I wasn't able to satisfy my exploration bug. No matter, right across the road from the entrance I spotted many carved dwellings open for anyone to crawl through... I headed for the ridge line. Once there I was rewarded with a view of a narrow chasm with what appeared to be a footpath along its bottom... finally, exploration Indiana Jones style!

I slid down the steep walls of the canyon to the foot path and marveled at various caved-in ruins, but one thing that caught my eye through the bushes turned out to be a score. I happened across a tunnel which had been carved in the ash-stone parallel to the exterior footpath. Water erosion had dropped the floor a few feet, but the tunnel itself extended for several hundred metres, I was giddy with excitement as I clambered along getting peaks through openings along the way. The canyon narrowed further where the tunnel ended, to the point where I could easily stretch both arms out and touch both sides of the canyon. The visual was enchanting. Eventually the path spit me out in a broader valley where the real fairy chimneys began and virtually every one had carved out ruins in it. I think I wasted about an hour in a 100 metre stretch of valley simply checking out EVERY hole I found. I even found some badly damaged cathedrals... too cool. I was getting a bit hungry, so I scrambled back over the ridge and found a kebap stand to fill up at and grab some water as the day was heating up nicely. I discovered that the valley I had been in was called the Kilclar Valley, but the real treats lay in the Kizilcukur Red Valley and Gulludere Rose Valley, so off I went.

The distance I would be traveling if I simply stuck to the trail and hiked would have been about 4 kms each way, something I could cover in about 2 hours with a little bit of looking around. I ended up spending a good 6 hours scrambling into every canyon, gulley, and carved out space exploring to my heart's content. I discovered that contemporary locals still used some of the dwellings as camp out spots as well as party spots. I also managed to climb into a couple of the pigeon aviaries along the way just to check them out. I discovered that locals still maintain some of the pigeon houses for their own uses and they also like to farm wine grapes and various vegetables in the area. There's not much to really say about these valleys that I haven't already covered, but the views were absolutely breath-taking, so I'll let the pictures do the talking.

By the time I made it to the end of the Rose Valley I calculated that I would have to cover the 4 kms back to town in about 45 minutes in order to have time to get my gear and make it to the bus stop for my ride out of the area. Fortunately, I'm no stranger to trekking with a purpose, so I made it with enough time to spare to grab a meal. Originally, I had wanted to travel further east into Turkey to check out a couple more sites of interest to me, but, alas, my money was running thin and my father was expecting me in the Czech Republic sooner rather than later. So, with a somewhat heavy heart, I accepted that I'd only get to see half of Turkey... this time. My bus was direst to Istanbul where I could catch another one into Bulgaria. The journey would take the better part of 24 hours, so on I went and prepared for a long, back cramping, boring haul through the Turkish night.