Fred's Weekend Escape to Ihlara
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by Fred Moore – September 2008
It's
a holiday weekend; Carol and I have escaped our daily routine for another
adventure in the heartland of this wonderful country. As usual, we stay in
Goreme at the Ottoman House, our home away from home. This weekend we've
decided to visit a village of our past (Guzelyurt) and two new sights to add to
our collection of places to see (
We
arrive in Goreme in the early afternoon following our leisurely drive from
Anyway,
I ease myself a step at a time into the water and then turn to sit on the top
step of the ladder. I know one should simply ‘go-for-it' and drive right in but
I don't do that. After several minutes of reluctance I finally force myself
fully into the water and swim across the pool. I find there is no shallow end
as I'm used to in pools; this pool is about a meter and half deep all over
(about 5 feet). Now that I'm fully engulfed in the water, it's quite pleasant.
Off to the side of the main pool there's a children's wading pool as well.
Carol stepped into it and it's about a half-meter deep.
We
spend well over an hour swimming laps in the pool and enjoy our afternoon; the
sun filters through the translucent roof and warms the pool area very nicely.
We're the only guests this afternoon and it's like having our own private pool.
After
our swim we retreat to our room to relax and enjoy a quiet evening on our
balcony. It's not as cool as I thought it might be here, but it's very nice as
compared to the HEAT of
We
opted for dinner on the roof – we have a private dining experience – no one
else in the Ottoman House has chosen to eat at the hotel this evening. Their
special tonight is sac tava, a very flavorful flaming stir-fry. We begin dinner
with tomato soup, then we have a potato dish that is like spiced mash potatoes
deep fried and delicious. After we consume the first two courses, the stir-fry
I mentioned comes on a flaming wok; it's chopped meat, onions, peppers, garlic
and rice.
Sitting
up here on the terrace is lovely – we see only one star; probably the North
Star – unfortunately the streetlights below cast too much light for us to see
more. We finish our main entrée and the dessert (sutlac) is served, Carol
savors both portions. NO, I don't appreciate rice pudding it at all.
As
usual we have a wonderful dinner and have eaten too much. We thank the staff
and descend to our room once again. We decide to soak up more of the evening
air and sit out on our balcony until bedtime.
We
enjoy a leisurely breakfast with friends from
As
we enter the village from Urgup, we note a brown historic sign indicating a
church is nearby; we decide to turn and investigate it. We visit the ancient
Greek Orthodox Church of St. Ayios Vasilios, parking just above the entrance
sidewalk. We pay the 16 TL fee (very high price, we think) and descend a steep
staircase into a cave church. There are several rooms off the main hall and
this entire church has been carved into the hillside. When I look out the
windows that have grates over them I find we're several hundred feet off the
valley floor below. There are some very beautiful frescos (as usual, most have
been defaced to some degree) but it's still very evident this was a significant
place of worship in the distant past. The walls are whitewashed along with the
numerous square columns in the church. These columns are obviously for esthetic
purposes NOT structure supports since this is a cave church. Visit -- the cost
is well worth it!
After
our visit to the church, we drive back toward the village center to find the
Greek House, an old Greek home converted into a restaurant and inn. This
building reminds us very much of the many ethnographic museums we've visited
throughout
We
order lunch and while we wait for it, we're invited to visit the upstairs.
We're directed to the double ancient staircase in the far corner and we ascend
the carpet-covered, somewhat-steep stairs.
The
double staircase becomes a single one at the first landing and we arrive at the
second floor landing at a doorway into a large hall with more tables for
diners. Off to each side of this main hall are other rooms with traditional style
seating; cushions are arranged along the outer walls and large circular trays
are set for the diners. These settings are quite traditional, as you must sit
on cushions around the trays. The wood ceilings and walls are beautifully
artistic (reminiscent of Ottoman style houses we've visited before) and again
worth a stop to see if you happen to be in the village of Mustafa Pasha.
We
return to our table down stairs and enjoy a very leisurely lunch; we're the
only ones in the building aside from the staff. The courtyard atmosphere is
wonderful, the historic nature of the place is truly consuming and every view
lands your eye on a treasure of man's past in this country. As an example, the
photos on the wall in my direct view have to be men of significance within the
confines of the village or more appropriate to the house itself. There are a
number of old agricultural hand tools on display and old carpets both on the
floor beneath our feet and hung on the walls. The small portion of open
courtyard is covered with an arbor with grapevines laden with a bounty of
grapes. One corner of the dinning area is set aside as a ‘tourist trap' with
local crafts for sale. Carol has manti (it's like miniature ravioli in a yogurt
garlic sauce) for lunch and I have soup and salad Carol says her manti is good
and my soup and salad is as well; should certainly be for the price (it's quite
costly, much to our surprise).
After
lunch we head for Urgup to visit our friend Murat. However, before we get out
of the village we spot some lovely carpets and back up to investigate. We enter
into the interior of an old caravan saray that has been restored and turned
into this wonderful carpet emporium. A young woman follows us through the place
but we see nothing we really need to take home and don't get involved in
prices. The last room we visit within the place is set up for carpet
production; they make some of their own designs. The restored building is
certainly worth a look.
On
the road again we get to Urgup and pull up in front of Murat's shop just as
someone is pulling away – perfect timing! We're greeted cordially and go
inside. Almost immediately we're in a conversation about beautiful old carpets
and kilims. Murat disappears into his basement and returns with some exquisite
master works of Manastir kilims. The work of these pieces is extremely fine;
the wool is thin and the color bold. He offers us the privilege to view three
examples in varying stages of life; all three have but a few colors: one basically red and blue, the other two differing
shades of blue and tan. These pieces are surely 150 years of age and they show
their maturity with the finest of style.
Murat
slips away once more and returns with a Mudjar corridor carpet; this piece is
adorned with the boteh design and a wonderful muted purple color. Along with it
he has a couple of old Kirsehir carpets and a very old and most lovely Maden
mihrab carpet. The Kirsehir pieces are nice but I'm drawn to the badly worn and
tattered Maden prayer carpet. This classic antique carpet maintains it's
richness even though it has served a family, or several of them, over its
lifetime. It's gently placed on the floor and it takes several minutes to
smooth out all its tattered edges. Someone has sewn a kilim piece onto the back
of it in an effort to try to salvage the thing. To the novice, this is simply a
rag that should be thrown out with the rubbish; but to the trained eye, this is
a carpet of rare and exquisite beauty. This aged carpet speaks to me – I only
wish I could unravel its life story!
We
spend a few quality hours with Murat and these treasured masterpieces but as
time slips away and we must reluctantly bid our farewell for this visit. We
thank him for his hospitality and for sharing these beautiful ‘old friends'
with us and we're off. We return to our home in Goreme, leave the car and walk
to dinner at the Cappadocia Kabob. After a very fine meal we walk the main
business street in the village. We stop to chat with friends but mostly just
stroll our way back to the Ottoman House for the evening on our balcony.
It's
This
drummer shocks and amazes me, usually we hear what might be akin to a bass drum
beat but tonight this young man (yes, it was a young man, I saw him out the
window) beats his drum in spurts of sharp rapid beats and it's very loud. If
this performance wasn't enough to wake you, every dog in the village is now
providing us with a full concert of barks, howls and yaps.
Just
when the cacophony fades from my conscious mind and I think I might get back to
sleep the neighborhood roosters begin their morning ritual symphony of crowing;
as they welcome our new day. I wonder how they've slept. Do chickens even
sleep? HaHaHa
I
decide sleep is out of the question now and simply get up. Carol doesn't seem
to have been affected so much by this succession of wake-up calls as I have
been so I let her sleep. I step out on the balcony; the air is crisp and filled
with the burst of gas jets from the balloons overhead. Between the bursts of
gas jets from the balloons I hear the chatter of the black birds soaring around
the houses and the cliff faces. It's only
It
isn't long before Carol has joined me and we ascend the stairs to our most
welcome breakfast. No matter how many times we stay at the Ottoman House, I
never tire of the abundant buffet that is spread for the guests. I have a plate
half-filled with quartered tomatoes and half filled with sliced cucumbers. I
get a second plate and fill it with morning salami and white cheese. Our
Our
goal today is to visit Guzelyurt and
We've
not visited Guzelyurt in 12 maybe 15 years; I wonder if I will find it as it
was; as though anything ever stays the same.
A
Turkish lady who worked for me in 1991 initially introduced us to this village
by way of a paper she had written about the village's past. This was a Greek
Orthodox village at the turn of the last century and was wholly engulfed in the
population exchange between
As
we make our way into the village we find it's market day and the street is a
flurry of activity. I crawl through the street hardly moving as villagers dart
back and forth across the street in front of the car. Most of these folks are
totally oblivious to my passing and I have to look out for them as them do not
pay me any mind at all. We pass by tarp cover after tarp cover of produce
venders, fabric venders, pot, pan & kitchen venders and the occasional
chicken sales person. This is a typical street bazaar that happens one day a
week in nearly every village across
After
ten minutes of intense creeping through this chaotic scene, I spy a sign
indicating I need to make a right turn onto a narrow car-lined street. Many of
the churches of this village are below us. We descend a steep winding street to
an entry control booth where a gentleman asks for 5 Lira each; we pay and
continue down the hill to park. We park just outside the walls of the
Around
to one side of the church we find a building covered in white letter/numbers.
As I study this oddity for a few minutes I realize these are completely in
order, it's a code. This building was obviously dismantled and then
reconstructed; it was probably in some stage of ruin before being rebuilt as we
see it today. I try to think back to our visit so many years ago but the only
thoughts I can bring to the surface are of the church and its location at the
bottom of this hill. It's a little frustrating to me how the ‘password' to
information in our mind is always missing when we want to unlock the file
folder with some historic information.
As
we walk through the grounds of this ancient church, we stop to watch a
stonemason work a large block of stone to smooth and size it for the life size
puzzle he is solving. He first works the stone with a power tool that looks as
though he is grinding the end of the block and then he carefully uses a flat
pick like tool to hammer a texture into that same end. There are several
workers on the job today and nothing I see looks like easy work. We notice a
door partially open on this side of the building and peer into the interior;
it's a chaos of construction materials and the only thing of the building we
see are the columns holding the roof up. The floor is or appears to be dirt and
there's a trench cut into it just inside this opening. There's a messy
profusion of electrical wiring snaking across the dirt and piles of tile to one
side.
After
a few minutes of watching the workers we make our way out of the courtyard and
venture on to see other sights within this ‘park'. Just across the street from
our parking space there's a sign for
Once
we're in the car again we drive deeper into the park where we find numerous
other signs for churches. The cliff face we reach at the end of the road is adorned
with many obvious entries to cave dwellings. We don't take the time to
investigate them because we want to get to the
On
our way again now, we drive out of the village and make the left turn onto a
winding country road toward the
We
linger on this beautiful day here above the dam even though we're not able to
enter this compound. The breeze coming across the empty expanse before us is
wonderful and we savor it. The view from up here is vast, we gaze across a
landscape that has every conceivable natural wonder, from the river below to
the mountains in the distance. I too, can't help but imagine the mass of
humanity that trekked out of this region into a life totally unknown and
foreign to them. I can't fathom being ‘exchanged' in some deal between
governments that I had NO control over!
We
get back to the car and drive away. It's lunchtime and we decide to find
something to eat, we head toward
On
our way again now, we return to the crossroads and head towards
We
WILL return, we've discovered if we enter through Belisirma we can drive into
the valley and there are restaurants on the river's edge.
After
an hour and many photos we get back to the car and head for Selime, a village
at the north end of the valley. As we pass through Selime we notice a
collection of carpets hanging in a yard; as we get closer we find a young lad
washing carpets in a concrete reservoir. We pull off the road and up next to a
building that says Anatolian Carpets across the front of it. We notice many
lovely pieces hanging outside and decide to go in and have a look. We enter a
large room, rather dark (lighted only through the door we entered) and in
behind us comes the young lad. There are NO adults around but in quick time we
see that isn't necessary, the young man begins opening and showing us a number
of carpets and kilims as we indicate an interest in this one or that one. Most
of what we are exposed to are primitive pieces, well worn or simply too new to
be considered.
We
spend a half-hour with the lad and ask the cost of a few pieces (reasonable
certainly) but opt to leave without a purchase. We bid the young man good day
and head for the main road between Aksaray and Nevsehir. The roads out here are
very nice and we enjoy the drive through the countryside. Once at the main road
we turn and head for Nevsehir and Goreme.
We
talk about all we've discovered today and look forward to our next visit where
we can travel around the other side of the valley. We're back in Goreme now and
opt for an early dinner. We walk down to talk to our friend Faruk to ask about
his brother's restaurant where we've never eaten; Carol wants to try something
different. We learn the restaurant is immediately down the street from Faruk's
carpet shop. Refik, Faruk's brother meets us at the carpet shop and walks with
us to his place. The restaurant is Nazar Borek Gozleme; we are seated in a
covered patio and order a large Greek salad and main dishes. When the salad
appears it's huge and it's delicious. I order chicken shish and Carol gets a
borek; both are great and we kick ourselves for never stopping here before.
While
enjoying our dinner, I can't help but overhear the conversation of a couple
sitting across from us. They are obviously new here and are looking for the
highlights of the area because they only have a day or two to see it. The young
lady goes somewhere to ask questions and I decide to barge in on the
gentleman's solitude. I ask a couple questions and make a couple of
suggestions. When the lady returns we learn our new friends are Jeff and Zoë.
They are traveling through
Carol
and I finish our dinner slowly and savor every bite. We thank Refik and start
back to the Ottoman House. Half way up the street we again meet Jeff and Zoë
coming back, we get involved in a conversation that wends it way through
Turkish adventures and into the question of where to purchase a grain bag. Zoë
is interested in buying a bag she can make into a pillow to lounge around on.
Carol invites them to visit our friend Faruk's carpet shop, Tribal Collections.
Carol with Zoë, talk with Faruk about bags and in no time there are pieces all
over the floor. Zoë asks questions; Carol and Faruk answer them. Faruk has a
number of different sizes and many designs and colors; Zoë settles on an aged
cicim kilim faced grain bag in mostly blue tones. It's folded and placed in a
zip bag that's no larger than a lunch box. Once more we say our farewells to
Jeff and Zoë, we thank Faruk and walk back to the Ottoman House.
This
has been an extraordinary weekend; as always, a quiet time away with no intense
HEAT. We've collected a few new sights and met new friends. Can life be anymore
rewarding?
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