Göreme

A long day, and I'm exhausted. Arrived at Göreme yesterday in time to see the sunset at what I thought our concierge was calling "the sunset pint". Willy is from Afghanistan, but speaks, so he told the Clingon, six languages: English, Turkish, Arabic, Uzbek, Hindi/Urdu and Farsi. Strange about this place: every street you walk down, men ask where you're from, hoping you'll step into their restaurant or shop. I always ask the same question back, and so far I've encountered no-one who's "from" Turkey: Kazakstan, yes; Turkey, no.



This morning Butterfly Balloons picked us up from the hotel at 5.30 and drove us down to their headquarters for breakfast, after which we were transported to the balloon lift-off pint. My urge to see the fairy chimneys was the main reason for coming here to Göreme. And I was not disappinted. The landscape is unbelievable. And most of it is out there, waiting for people to experience for free. There's a great deal of it in the outdoor museum, available for a price, which we paid. But too many other people paid the same price and it was a bit of a tourist frenzy. When we left the company of all the other tourists and went for a walk among the fairy chimneys, we were left to ourselves, with the sunshine, the landscape and the birds. We even saw a couple of raptors right overhead; the Clingon was of the opinion that they were stalking us, waiting for us to die.



Thank god there's no hope of getting a tourbus down into those magic valleys.

We walked towards what we were promised would be the Rose Valley, but every sign we saw, no matter how far we walked, said it was 2 km ahead. It was difficult walking, with lots of going up and down slopes slippery with loose sand and gravel, so when we saw the cafe, we decided we'd visit. Surreal, among the weird shapes of the eroded valleys to see a cafe where there are no houses or people, except for the few tourists, who aren't on buses. It was surreal in another way, too. It was a cafe with no coffee or tea or food. The only thing for sale in this cafe was pomegranate juice. We bought a large glass. The cafe guy was blonde, deaf and with dirt-engrained hands, which he used to push dried apricots into my mouth.




Finally, an old man came clopping up to the cafe in his horse and cart; he offered to take us back to town for 20 TL. I declined, but thought better of it when it was too late. It was 4km back to town and by the time we arrived I was not good for much except sitting on the bed and groaning. I could not even drag my sorry arse out to the sunset pint.



So here I am, in bed, nice and cosy. Eyes almost closing as I write, but I must finish this.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad