On this morning
Creator reached behind the mountains
To pull up the sun and light the land.
When sun was well on his way, Creator turned
And from the palm of His hand,
Threw into the sky
A hundred, multifaceted orbs.
There they danced each among the others
Throwing hands to heaven and earth
Whirling slowly above the chimneys of the fairies.
And so were we...at first rising in the dark, then suspended between shadow and sun. As some balloons rose higher, they caught the sun's light, at times breathing fire to rise, at times descending almost silently to float through canyons and spires. Our balloon captain? Ismail, Captain of the Turkish
Balloon Team and winner of two World Balloon Championships. He is a friend of our guide, Deniz, who also serves as part of Ismail's ground or chase crew during championships. There are truly no words to adequately describe the ballooning experience. On this morning we were one of 83 balloons filling the sky. When we descended, Ismail did a spot-on landing (with a bit of help from the chase crew) right onto the back of the small trailer that hauls the basket from place to place.
After breakfast, we were off to visit the the honeycombed tunnels of Derinkuyu. Since prehistoric times, the vulnerable peoples of Cappadocia excavated dwellings from the soft-tuft terrain. These areas were subsequently expanded by Christians seeking protective shelters from invading Roman forces. Gradually, these original hideaways evolved into huge underground networks of tunnels, caves, and a vast number of dwellings. Altogether, they accommodated up to 30,000 people with storage facilities great enough to sustain such a population below ground for up to 6 months. The tunnels are certainly larger than those of Cu Chi, deep and myriad. Being inside for only an hour or so (with a billion other tourists) was a claustrophobic experience. At one point our small group needed to step aside for a larger group going the other way. We found ourselves in a tiny alcove with Pam, Brooke, and me pushed up against the back wall. I entertained the other two with stories to keep them calm...and in so doing, we stayed easy until we could all proceed. This entire area we are in was the center of the Christian religion after Christ's crucifixion. As members of a new sect, Christians were often persecuted, discriminated against, and actively hunted and killed.
From Derinkuyu we drove toward Ilhara, our hiking destination. On the way, there were women picking potatoes in a field. Deniz asked our driver to stop. He got out and talked to the women. "OK," he said, "These women are waiting for more pickers from Syria. These are the poorest of the poor, so let us go help them." So out we went--all of us, including Kurt and Ann, the owners of Wildland Adventures. The women quickly taught us how to sort large, medium, and small potatoes. We grabbed buckets and went to work for 25 minutes. When you filled a bucket you carried it over to two of the women who were holding 50 pound sacks, dumped your bucket and scurried back to your place in the row. The "real" pickers were so much faster than we, but enjoyed immensely watching and working alongside American tourists. For our part, the work is tedious, backbreaking, dirty, smelly, and hot. I can't begin to understand what this migrant life would be like, but am grateful for this small experience.
Arriving at our targeted destination, we began our day's hike in the Ilhara Valley along the Red River. The hike was charming. In some places it was like walking in Havasu Canyon in the Grand Canyon. In others it was like walking among the ruins at Mesa Verde, only instead of Balcony House, there were caves and churches cut into the rock high above. At one point we stopped to look at the defaced frescoes in such a church. As Pam entered, four older Muslim women were leaving.
"Merhaba," (Hello) said Pam in passing. The women stopped and began talking excitedly. "Oh no," thought Pam. "What have I done?" One turned to the others saying, "Merhaba, Merhaba...no (and here she made a face) hi, hi!" they all smiled, and the women went on. At the bottom of the stairs, the women were resting with their husbands. Pam went over to ask if we could take their picture. Deniz came with us. "Yes, yes," they said and all eight (husbands and wives) began laughing. As I readied the camera, the boss lady pulled Pam into the middle and put her head on Pam's shoulder. Then with Deniz translating, we learned boss lady had a daughter in school in Annapolis. She asked where we were from, how far from her daughter, then she whipped out her cell phone and called her daughter. No answer, but we got the girl's phone number for when we get home to try and send the pictures. Then boss lady says about how wonderful this is that Allah sent these people to her, and everyone was laughing and hugging and saying goodbye, and we were off.
The caves are so amazing in that they have lasted for so long despite the fact that the rock from which they are made is very soft and easy to dig. Archaeologists have since learned, that when the soft rock is cut and exposed to oxygen, it becomes very, very hard.
Our lunch was wonderful. We ate at a small rest stop along the river where tables were located in small shelters built in the middle of the two banks. Lie back and relax. Only two casualties were incurred along the way. Craig fell on loose rock and did a really impressive abrasion on his hand. We broke out the first aid kit in my pack and cleaned and bandaged him with Brooke, his partner doing most of the work...he is an oncologist, she a nurse practioner. The next casualty was Ann, who was stung by a wasp, and required an after-sting pad and a benadryl. Hot, dirty and tired, we were off to the hamam.
The hamam is a public bath in Turkey. We went to Deniz's favorite, owned and operated by three generations of a Turkish family. This one is coed. We all changed in small rooms and came out wearing checkered towel wraps about the consistency of the old flour sack dish towels. Then we showered, towel on, and all of us piled into the steam room for as long as we each could stand it. Coming out of the steam room, you lie down on a heated, round communal slab of marble and await your turn to be scrubbed. Occasionally, you move to a small basin and use a pan to throw water over yourself. When it is your turn to be scrubbed, a guy with a loofa-like mitt goes at it...very invigorating. No soap is involved in this phase; it is only for exfoliating, except for the bar of strong soap the scrubber uses to wash your hair. After that, back to the sauna, or cold shower, or bowls of water, then stretch out on the heated marble again to await the soap wash/massage. After that, shower once more, dry off, get dressed, have a cup of tea, and leave the hamam under the Turkish waxing moon.
We had another fabulous dinner at a place called Ziggy's, great wine, and then off to pack for our six hour ride to our home stay and on the way, investigate some Turkish music cd's, and visit the life and gravesite of Mevlana Jelaleddin Rumi, whom we know in America as a beautiful poet, thanks mostly to the translations of Coleman Barks. In Turkey, it is Rumi's father, Rumi himself, and his son who are responsible for the Sufi religion, and whirling dervishes. As a last note, I will say that the dress of the dervish carries great meaning. Their hats represent tombstones, their over cloaks represent the earth that covers the grave, and the white dress that whirls as the dervish spins represents a burial shroud. Altogether the message is something like: God, I am here and I am dead to you. I give praise to you here on earth. I am yours and ready for you to take me at any time. And that is the end of five hundred more stories from our Adventures in Turkey. May you all rest well.
Morning rising
Captain Ishmail
Baptismal area in Derinkuyu
Picking spuds
Cave church
The ladies
John and Melinda along the trail
Lunch stop
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Location:Capadocia
