The East Coast of Turkey

Oh, I know that I am so far behind in this travel blog, but I promise to take you to the end of our journey. It helps me keep writing when I know someone is out there enjoying it! And my brother, my volunteer editor, is off on lighthouse duty without a connection so please, don't laugh too hard at my spelling and other fine writing details! And just to remind you, I put all the towns, villages and cities in bold so both you and I can follow along on a map. Lou

The East Coast of Turkey. April 17th~ 

We are on a 'better' ferry boat from Cyprus this time. What a relief. Before this, we have always wondered if we would really make it 60 miles across the sea to Turkey. We are in line at 11:00 but of course it leaves hours late, now 3:00 pm and we are still at dock. When we load, the cars are elevatored and lined up outside with 7 foot walls around us. The trucks are on the lower deck. Who designed this ferry? We car travelers hang out in our cars. There is no passenger waiting room for us. The truckers have their own cabins and common room. David and I are the lucky ones! Our home is with us and we have every convenience, even our bed should we need it. We are probably leaving Cyprus for the last time and we are saddened by the thought. 

We reach the port in Turkey six hours later, instead of the usual nine. A better ferry for sure! We managed to meet some interesting folks while wandering our little car deck. A Romanian family is heading back to their homeland. The father has worked in construction for years on Cyprus, making money to finish building their family home in Romania. This dream has come true and a new life begins. These eastern European countries face their own hardships. It takes a strong person to look ahead to building a better life for their family. And then we talk to a Welsh man and his wife who live in South Cyprus. So many perspectives come our way. And when darkness falls we jump in the camper and watched a movie, The Artist, and the last of Simon Reeves journey around the Indian Ocean...Java to Australia.

April 18

We have spent some time mapping our way across Turkey to the east and then north. We gas up and fill our propane tank. Once more, the American license plates bring us extra attention, in the form of a delicious sweet coffee on the house. The Turkish people cannot be kind enough. David gets Turkcell WIFI in one store, then goes next door to get a cooked chicken. The propriator brings Turkish tea out to our car for Mr.'s wife. “Miraba” (Hello) he says and I answer thank you “Tesh-oo-koo-let”. What a lovely tradition this tea sharing is. We wait while the chicken is cooked faster by splitting it and putting it on the barbecue. Anything for his customer. 

Now on toward ADANA on a three lane freeway next to the sea. White flowering Hawthorne and pink blooming bushes have been planted in the median. We are back into the old Turkey where again we see all women in peasant Islamic garb; the low crotched trousers of flower motifs, designer extravagant scarves, long sleeved blouses with vest, shoes and socks. Some work in the fields, others are walking the road to somewhere. Beautiful agricultural fields here. Citrus trees. Strawberries are still being harvested. 

Then we enter the city. Apartments! Everyone lives in apartments. Lovely friendly homes in big boxes, painted all colors. Wash hanging on flower bedecked balconies, TV dishes, barrels of water on the roofs. The women dress in a variety of clothing... a scarf with jeans, scarves with nice slacks and sweaters, scarves with dresses and some without scarves, looking like much of the rest of the world. Beyond the residences there is a fort on a hill top. Flat fields surround it. And we enter the agriculture land again. Dry creek beds. Quarries...the rock is taken and the hill is removed! Corn fields. Corn is grown for an American company centered in Iowa! Large silos. Through this all, a wide river flows. 

A gypsy camp is being constructed. A large group. Many tents. Skinny white horses find green stuff to eat. The women are sleeping in the shade of trees, their goats and chickens with them. This band has accompanying white vans to carry their heavy cumbersome stuff. The new way to move around. 

We pass by Flamingos in a field, pink with black tail feathers. Oh dear, a siren goes off when we pass through a deserted toll area. We keep going. The car begins its knocking again. So darn worrisome. We stop at another VW Service Garage. Of course once again a test drive reveals nothing. But the mechanic has brought us fresh mountain water to take with us. He is so proud of it. 

In OSMANIYE we find a computer WIFI chip at the fifth phone store. We are far from English speakers. A young boy stares at me. I smile at him. I must look foreign. I am not used to being in this role...the strange one. 

We move on. More gypsy camps, bigger and more prosperous. Camps are set up on roadsides that belong to the local governments, not private property, so they are close enough for us to get a good look at. These people intrigue me...after all we are a little gypsy-like ourselves. Their individual home tents have become camp universal... white canvas. One camp exhibited a huge tent that looked like a fantastic quilt of all fabrics and colors. Wonderful!

And we encounter a car being towed with a rope, weaving here and there. Illegal at home, here you call your friend and get it done. At home, call the tow truck...big $$$$$.

April 19

We have overnighted in a small Turkish town. No tourists here. No western dress for women. We toss stale bread pieces into the chicken yard beside us. There are about 100 of them, Rhode Island Reds and white hens with tall tail feathers. There is one elegant rooster with a very gravelly voice, sounding less than elegant. The feathered ladies who grab the bread chunks can't eat it because they are chased round and round by the others. This hilarious show keeps our attention for quite a while.

We are slow to start today. The quiet and slow pace here has affected us. The locals look at us in wonder. Curious. Serious. No smiles. One brave man, or maybe the local police, checked us out, first honking and staring at us from his car, then parked and walked to talk to us. “Miraba” says David. He got a smile and a “Miraba” back. That was the end of that encounter. But let's get out of here.

A motor bike honks in a friendly hello, I wave out the window. We follow him over the hills to a big green valley and the town of NURDAGI. Redish-brown butterflies cross the road in front of us in flocks or alone. It happens over and over. Are they migrating north? Careful! There is a turtle in the road. And then a giraff, zebra and camel...stiff statues that feel out of place. Young boys push garbage containers on wheels. They are picking up anything that they can get money for. Good idea and good work. David says that he and his buddies used to do much the same thing...beer bottles, a penny each. Ahhh. The good old days. Another choice, a paper route. Good work at a young age.

In BEYOCLU, population 68,000, there is an electric railroad...a big train just like David's electric train set he had as a kid. Traffic lights are placed further ahead. Often we stop too far ahead when first in line and can't see the light change so a friendly little nudge of a honk sounds behind us. In NARLI PAZARCIK, population 68,900, we  find an ATM just to make sure we have enough cash on us in this more sparsely peopled place. Ahh! David has been looking for a car wash and here it is! 'Oto yikama' CARWASH! It could be the first camper van they have caressed! They take great care and hand it back sparkling. 

As we pull out to the main road a traditionally dressed bent-over elderly woman is walking toward us... sack on her back, sack in her hand on the way to the flour mill. I reflect at what a different life I have been given. I somehow would like to be in her shoes for awhile, to understand how one can work so hard with the body at an older age. But the answer to that, I think, is that she does not have a choice. She needs to feed herself and children, grandchildren and family animals. So, what else is she supposed to do, but 'just do it'. 

This road offers some outrageously painted homes, many tri-colored shades of blue, green, orange, purple, red and yellow. A lone donkey walks the highway. I wonder if he knows where he is going? An orchard on red earth, new leaves just starting. Busy farmers cultivating and planting. And a sighting of snow on the distant mountains. Another donkey but he has a job to do. He has an old style wood saddle on his back. He is herding black goats. Families at road-side stands selling whatever they can. Nuts and grains and something in jars. Honey? And umbrellas! The landscape is stunning, red and green in color. I have a quick deep thought...Isn't it enough that all of us folks are all here on this earth together at this particular time? Should this not be a strong enough bond? 

BALKAR. A town nesting alongside a big lake. GOLBASSI. Depressing. Run down. Unhappy sort of place. But we move on to uplifting nature; woods, planted pines to keep the earth in place where this road was punched through. Rock, copper green and iron red. River, flowing against us as we gain elevation. A mother and son move along the road and riverside, harvesting food that grows naturally there. Lumps of old snow linger in these higher hills. Trees are now sparse. ERKENEC. This town is alive with folks out walking, kids playing. We make our lunch stop in the midst of a soft new spring green stand of tall willows. 

Back on the road we follow a truck with a bed fenced by wood railings. A young girl peeks curiously at us from between the slats. She is riding in the back on her way to help get the current job of the day done. MALATYA. Population 565,000!

The pleasant road through town shows off some nice architecture, uniquely designed lamp posts, pedestrian arched bridges over our line of cars. The 'peach' seems to be the city symbol. We pull to a stop. A truck is in our path, backing out of the tunnel to save his 'too tall' cargo. The terraine here is like Washington State's Yakima or Lake Chelan with a mosque. We stop at a dried fruit stand. Apricots and almonds. The best we have ever tasted! “Two bags of those apricots, please!” 

Still it feels like eastern Washington State, very similar to the bare powerful Columbia River gorge near Wenatchee. But the towns are not familiar. Another big one, ELAZIG. A three lane freeway travels above the wide Firat River which runs in and out of a long lake reservoir. Storks are standing and fussing about in their high-perched nests. Black wild turkeys. COVANCILAR. We stop for the night at 6:30.

April 20

A police visit last night. Bang, bang, bang on the side of the car. As usual it ends in laughter. We had been reported by a concerned citizen in the neighborhood who had led two cop cars to our white van. White van...hmmmm. The new sign of the traveling gypsy. In answer to the question, “What are you doing here?”, David says, “Well, I was sleeping until you guys woke me!” Fortunately they thought that was funny and led us to the police station parking lot where we would sleep safe for the night. This morning we leave a note for the 'guys', a simple thank you and goodbye. And we move on.

More horse and carts. More women in black showing only their eyes. Others in careful Islamic dress but with spiked heels. Motor cycles with side cars filled to the breaking point. We are in Turkey, but this is the Kurdish area. Syria is so close, but we feel none of the danger. We are happy and content participants in a land that still needs to settle, to work things out, to become peaceful. The Turks are not fond of the Kurds. To us, they are friendly wonderful people. We do not carry any baggage of history. 

We are turning north. The countries of Iraq, Iran, Armenia and Georgia border the east of Turkey. We are not far away. The countryside is like Oakland, California, or Bakersfield...brown grassy hills. Snow capped mountains are on our right. Fruit trees are just beginning to flower. Shepherds with their flocks of sheep, leading them to find patches of food that are not on private property. Anywhere the grass is green and public, unless you have permission from the property owner. 

We are stopped when a boy about sixteen comes to our car. He has an open gash on his forhead...opened and reopened, a never-ending wound. “Okay?” he asks us. He is not fully functional. “Okay”, we say, and he offers his hand to David. I touch my forhead with a sad look on my face. He comes to my side of the car and shakes my hand with much emotion...I think because I showed concern. Oh my, my heart is pierced...as we continue our jouney.

Wow, this is a big country, this Turkey. Big and varied and beautiful. We are by lakes and dams and gorges and big brown mountains. Breathtaking. Army trucks, soldiers with guns pointed at the road, looking for refugees. Traffic check. Of course, we are in a white van...we must show our papers. 

I love the manly friendship of taking walks with your buddy, arms around shoulders...men and boys. But, then I see the women at work in the fields, or taking responsibility of herding the sheep. My mind says to me...DO NOT JUDGE. So I let go and let another culture be just as they are. I do not understand their ways. I am not right and they are not wrong. 

Because of the dams, the river changes from wide to big lakes to narrow stretches of tumbling white water. Men fishing with single rods. The roads are four lanes now, through tunnels. Armored personel carriers with tank treads and guns are present on this stretch of road. Forts in use. TUNCELI. A growing nice town on a mountain reservoir. Market day. New buildings. Time to gas up. “95 benzine...full, please”. And with this we are offered tea and a free car wash...these people are so nice to us. We are definitely aware that we are to act as good ambassadors on this fantastic journey.

Continuing on, waterfalls, gorges. Colorado River, Grand Canyon-like. Tunnel after tunnel through the rock mountains, short and long, some just rough hewned. People enjoying the area, building fires to sit around, picnic food spread out. Down hill to a green valley. KANGALI. Just a few scattered homes. Men in groups around fires. PULUMER. 1800 meter high mountain village. If you want the bus to stop put out your arm. We are often mistaken for a bus and have to pass these questioning people by. “Sorry, we are not a real bus and there are too many of you.”

I smell smoke in the air, a pleasant smell. Field burning? We are moving higher. Snow capped mountains all around us. Thunder! Echoing. Military on the mountain summit. We wind downward, the rushing of water far below. Colors of the rock strata; tones of yellow, green, dark purple. The baa-a-a-a of sheep. The spring poplars show their new white-green leaves. Fruit trees greening up. Yellow green of the shorter bushes. White bare trunks of Aspen. The river plane widens and fills with crops. We are often tricked by the road and river...right now it looks like we are riding downhill and the river uphill...in actuality it is the opposite. Blackbird nests built like leafy squirrel homes, in nude trees. Thick communities, 25 per tree. 

YALACIK, a tiny poor village of little houses. Little fat cypress or juniper trees, a few remnants of snow caught hidden in a north pocket of a hill. A donkey and his owner in the middle of the road. He has a huge load of sticks. She leads him to the side to let us pass. A farmer throws grain to the earth from his sack, slowly moving in a straight line. Cows are the predominant animal here. Another small poor village but new houses are being built, about 60 of them all the same, painted in two shades of green, perfectly lined up. Boys play football in a pasture. Another shanty town. Folks living here cannot afford to leave. One town is called Dumlu. Ha! Ha! Dumb Lou. 

We turn north at ERZURUM, in the foothills. A sign points to Kayak, a ski area. We are still in a flat plain but the elevation is high. More and more snow appears on the Aliahuekber range to the Northeast. There is old snow on our level too. Spring has not yet arrived here. We head on downhill. A strange terraine of lumpy spikey brown rock appears around a bend, knobby scrub vegetation, no trees. The mountain walls are cathedral-like. One is topped with a castle! Hardly noticable, made with the same mountain rock. A very special place...brings a touch of the Spirit. 

Shades of brown strata layers, slides, a glacier green lake, then a huge full reservoir muddied from today's rains. We continue by the river. Lombardi poplars and shorter willows at our side. This area is a wonder! Pure and simple nature at its most powerful. Spectacular! Tuscan red on light brown. We get glimpses of more snow capped mountains, in the shape of plates shoved up from the depths of earth. Conifers at a 1160 meter pass. There is an area of rotten strata...like waves of ready-made bricks and ragged rock edges formed from water seepage. Baskets appear at the river sides. Sit in the basket, grab a rope and pull yourself over the river. 

We pass a make-shift town roadside. Lots of tarps pulled into shelters. Fires burning. People milling. Pea patch gardens in the middle of rock mountains. A minaret stands in their midst, made of aluminum foil.

We pull into a gas station and ask the owner if we can stay in his lot for the night. Of course the answer would never be 'no'. We pull out a movie to watch on our little notebook computer. Captain Phillips. 

April 22

The muddy river rushes downhill in a red rock canyon, cerulean blue sky beyond. What a way to start a day. Oh, oh, we seem to have a water leak. Several times we fill the reservoir with our sink water supply until we can find help. Next city, ARTVIN. There are rows and rows of car repair shops but no Volkswagen. We cannot get help here so we continue along the river gorge to the sea, the Black Sea. This spot looks much like the Columbia River entering the Pacific Ocean. Green with vegetation, steep rocky faces turn into hills and then the shore. Wild cherry trees are in blossom. Sword ferns, pink and white rock rose. What is that low humped bush on the hillsides? David thinks it might be tea. Lavender rhododendrons bloom. Alder, blackberries, ivy, nettles, elderberry all close to the Black Sea. It feels like home. I look across the sea toward the Ukraine and expect to see land. Nothing. Only a huge inland sea with one exit where Istanbul separates to let shipping traffic through. I look forward to our drive along this body of water.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

> David says that we seem to be a cross between unwanted gypsies and honored guests when we park in or near a town.

> A game David's family played when traveling. His father would ask, “Are we going uphill, downhill, straight? Look behind you, it sometimes helps.”

> Many men wear rubber boots. Always yellow.

> Many times I have seen men wash their hands in gravel.