adventures in the Far East [part II]

Day 2: Tuesday August 14, 2008

The main reason for going to Kars, other than the rightfully famous cheese and honey, is to see the ruins of Ani. Honestly, that’s why people go…contrary to what Orhan Pamuk’s Snow will have you think.

sidenote #1: Do NOT read Snow before going to Kars. But do read it.

Ani, once the capital of Old Armenia, lay along key trade routes. It was taken over by a succession of groups—the Byzantines, Selcuks, the Kingdom of Georgia, and Kurds—before it was left to fall into disrepair by the Mongols and finally wholly abandoned after Tamerlane’s tour.

Earthquakes, wars and weather events have made Ani into what it is today—a desolate walled city 45 kilometers east of Kars, where the remains of fantastic houses of worship have been left to crumble. When you enter the site, you feel as though you’ve entered a sacred place where you are not welcome. Ani is quiet and empty and deserves to be traversed on tip-toe. It’s so distant from the bustling cities around it; it is truly its own little world and a striking testament to the evolution of religious and political history.

Ani is old, it contains no evidence of today. Entering Ani is entering the past, quite literally. Throughout the site, buildings are covered in blocks of indecipherable text, written in ancient Armenian script. Additionally preserved are the significant fluctuations in religious orientation of the area—a Zoroastrian temple, Armenian and Georgian churches, Islamic mosques dot the landscape within the all-encompassing walls.

Despite all this, there is a palpable tension that surrounds Ani. Maybe that’s because it’s still a place of contention—now between Turkey and Armenia. Literally on the border between these two states, Ani used to be entirely inaccessible to non-military characters. It was slowly opened to tourism from the Turkish side, but photography was entirely forbidden. Turkish troops patrolled the site to enforce the rule [hey, they’ve got a lot of soldiers and nowhere to put them]. They say your film would be taken if you were caught.

Later, in the not so distant past, the rules changed and you could take photographs…but they had to be pointed towards Turkey, i.e. you couldn’t take photographs while facing Armenia.

Now, the regulations have been dropped and pictures can be taken facing any which way. But, while most of the ruins are on the Turkish side some lie on the other side of the ravine in modern day Armenia—all you get is a tempting look from a distance.

And, of course, at any given time the regulations could change.

And how fitting to write about Old Armenia now, amidst the everpresent-but-recently-reheated battle over the word genocide…if you don’t know what I’m talking about, take a look at the news from a few months ago. I have my opinions, but let’s not talk about it now. Let’s just bask in the glory that is Ani…

Yvonne had visited Ani a few years back, one winter when she was in Turkey. She described what she remembered to me and though it seemed glorious from both her description and those given by Robert and Seppi, I really couldn’t picture it in my minds eye. Nonetheless, I was excited!

Early in the morning, we went downstairs to get our free hotel breakfast. Discouraged by the lack of Kars cheese—how could they?!—we didn’t eat much. Anxious to get away from the awkward stares of the business men around us, we scuttled into the lobby to wait. Eventually, our other compatriots showed up—an Italian, two Israelis, and Katrina sans Andrew.

Apparently, Andrew aka Maps had picked up a stomach bug while they were hiking in the Kackar Mountains a few days before. He wasn’t doing so great. Yvonne and I suggested Cipro while Celil Ersoglu—the organizer of our Ani trip—ran to get some vinegar. “Have him drink this,” he insisted. So, Katrina ran up and gave it to Maps then went to the eczane to pick up some Cipro.

sidenote #2: that stuff’s cheap as water there! So bloody expensive in the US, on the order of $100…it’s something like 4 ytl there! Yeesh!

Then, it was time to go. We piled into the van, Celil Bey took our money, and we were sent on our way. We stopped to pick up a few other passengers and then got out of the city.

The landscape was beautiful and, yet again, different from any of the other regions I’d trekked around. Flat and expansive, the land was mainly farms and bales of hay with some small villages. It was dry and desolate.

It was the first time [since being in Turkey] I saw a significant horse
population.

All along the route I was continually awed by a remarkable feat of balance—hay on a truck. Honestly, it was fantastic and looked so silly. I don’t know what it is about this picture, but whenever I look at it I start to chuckle.

And then, all of a sudden, there it was…a big, fat wall. Just popped out of nowhere, it did. We shuffled out of the van and all stood around unsure as to what to do. It seemed there was no one at the ticket counter, but then some fella ran in and started taking money for tickets. Yvonne and I asked if they had a student rate—cause we’re so stingy that 5 ytl is way outside our budget [I’m loath to admit we did that]—but it was a no-go, mainly because the guy wasn’t the usual ticket taker and got all flustered at the idea of there not being a set price.

Before entering, it was obvious from the general overview of history and the city plan that we were about to see a place with a very rich and long history. I can’t lie, I got a bit jittery. It was so quiet and silent. It was almost spooky.

So, before getting too overwhelmed by the potential enormity of the site, we got moving. We had 3 hours to see the place and we wanted as much time inside as possible.

And we started, at the beginning: the Aslan Gate.

The Aslan Gate [the Lion’s gate, for those who can’t make-out the animal in the photo], opens onto a most unexpected landscape. The LP actually describes it well:

Your first view of Ani is stunning: wrecks of great stone buildings adrift on a sea of undulating grass, landmarks in a ghost city that was once home to nearly 100,000 people, rivaling Constantinople in power and glory.

--Lonely Planet: Turkey, 2007


Doesn’t that just give you the chills to read?

Well, it’s even affecting more to see that, to see it in real life.

Egad, the pictures can’t even begin to profess the enormity of this place! Even wide-angle lenses leave you unsatisfied. It is truly spectacular and to walk into it was like being punched in the stomach. All the air in my lungs rushed out and I gasped as some weird wave of something—emotion? ghosts? dehydration?—rolled over me.

I don’t know what it was, but I have never felt like that before. The silence and seclusion of the place just stirs something. It’s just Ani, in its glory and its demise. It’s beautiful.

After letting it sink in a bit—it never really sunk in fully—we continued forward. Katrina had hooked on to Yvonne and me, so we had a nice little group to take turns reading the descriptions in the guidebook. There weren’t a lot of people, so we followed the clockwise path suggested and were, for the most part, left alone to visit each ruin.

The first thing we came upon was a 12^th century oil press. One of the less spectacular of the ruins, it was still neat to see. We knew some exciting stuff was coming up, but little things like this kept us in suspense.

It was 10 am and already the sun was harsh.

Moving on, we came to our first big ruin: The Church of the Redeemer, a small domed structure built sometime between 1034 and 1036 to house a piece of the True Cross sent from Constantinople. Armenian script on the outer walls relays the story.

It’s an arresting sight—half the church stands while the other half lies as refuse in front; split perfectly through the center, it seems as if it’s eroding away in some kind of systematic way. In fact, in the late-1950s the church was struck by lightening, which remarkably destroyed only the eastern half and left the western side standing.

Among the piles of fallen stone lie large pieces retaining intricate design work and a large archway carved with ancient Armenian script, just visible beneath the lichen.

Inside, sun-bleached though they are, the walls and domes retain outlines of figures and some color of the original frescoes.

Moving on was hard—the Church of the Redeemer was thrilling, we worried we started with the best first. But, it was 10:30 and the plain was already blazing in the heat. We wanted to be sure to see everything before we melted and the light became too harsh for decent photographs, so we got our butts in motion.

Following the path, we caught our first glance of Armenia. There, on the other side of the Arpi Cayi gorge, we were so close it was painful. Unfortunate that such an ugly history persists, marring the beautiful landscape. Down in the ravine we could see electric fences and in the distance a Turkish fortress where soldiers are ever present.

Eventually, we came to a fork in the road where we saw a little sign indicating the route of the 12^th century Silk Road.

Can you imagine the people and goods that came through here in droves? Now so empty, this place was once alive and kicking...and important to the world.

Turning left and trusting the guidebook, we followed a faint path down towards the river. At first, we didn’t see anything. Then, suddenly, there was a building, like a little fortress on the edge of the mountain.

It’s called the Tigran Honents Church, or the Church of St. Gregory the Illuminator [the apostle to who it is dedicated].

Tigran Honents, a merchant-tradesman, commissioned the construction which finished in 1215 when the Kingdom of Georgia ruled Ani. Subsequent additions to the church were made in mid- and late-13^th century.

Ornate moldings and carvings decorate the facade while poorly preserved frescoes adorn all free wall space, both inside and out. Though crumbling and left to the elements, much of the color and detail of the frescoes remains. The primary themes of the painting include the life of Christ and the life of St. Gregory the Illuminator.

Carved in ancient Armenian script on the wall facing the valley is Honents’ dedication of the church. It’s easy to miss as it’s hidden from direct view. But, the effort to find it is worth it. The inscription is beautiful in its physical form.

Onwards we went. The book mentioned another building, the Convent of the Virgins, which was out of the way and was oftentimes off-limits. We looked around but couldn’t find a path leading towards it, so we ventured on.

Later, when we looked back at the Arpa Cayi we saw it. Down, right on the edge of the gorge, entirely hidden from above, stood the building and a ruined bridge beside it. Next to it you can see the electric fence that delineates the border. It would have been a nice picnic spot back in the day, no?

Actually, the theme of The Picnic played a strong part in our trip to the east. Yvonne had handily stolen an airplane blanket at some point which could serve the purpose of picnic blanket. At Ani, the three of us became hungry quite early on and everywhere we looked we were surrounded by the perfect picnic spot. It was killer, especially when we realized that we could have pulled it off—no one was patrolling, we could totally get away with it. But, alas, it was not to be. Another place, another time—we would have a picnic on this trip!

Anyhow, moving on:

The next building we came upon was the Cathedral. And, from a distance, that is what it looks like—a big, boxy, plain cathedral. However, upon further inspection, the decorative detail and the enormity of the building are a sight to behold.

It switched religious hands since its construction between 987 and 1010. Under the Armenian Orthodox Patriarchate it served as a church but was subsequently converted into a mosque during Seljuk and Islamic rule. Recapture of Ani by the Christians served to reinstate the building as a church.

The Cathedral is constructed of the same multicolored block stone as the other buildings in Ani, though it is the most incredible display of this feature.

Inside, it is dark, except for in the center where a large cylinder of light exists because the dome, originally held up by four gigantic columns, fell down ages ago. All the buildings in Ani were subject to significant earthquakes, and the dome collapse is one of many features evincing these events.

The outer façade of the building holds many instances of great detailed relief work and lovely moldings, particularly around the windows. The main entrance is also embellished by more of the beautifully fashioned Armenian inscriptions.

While not my favorite building of the lot—the architecture felt heavier and more utilitarian than the other buildings—I was not unimpressed by the enormity of the Cathedral. While it looks unoriginal compared to modern church construction, the form of this building was quite cutting edge for its time.

From there, we headed towards the Menucer Camii, walking along a path passing an excavated area that was supposedly a row of shops. Currently, excavation is continuing on the site and we saw the men in action. A woman seemed to be heading the project and it gave me a flashback to Kerkenes, where a lone gal managed to have complete authority over a group of big, brawny, village men. Unlike me, however, she wore Hammer Pants—as in MCHammer…it’s a long story…just take a look at the pants the woman in yellow is wearing. I’ll explain some other time. Passing by, Yvonne and I gave the guys a big ol’ “kolaaaay gelsin!” [may it pass easily] and they seemed appreciative.

The Mencur Camii was an interesting building. Built with the same materials and similar structure to the other churches, this building was embellished with Islamic style.

Unlike the stereotypical view of a camii with domes and minarets, the Mencur Camii is a simple box building with a single octagonal minaret. It was built by the Seljuks, who commissioned Armenians to construct it, explaining the dual influence of style. Here you can see the Mencur Camii, the Cathedral, and the Church of the Redeemer from the foreground to the background.

Much of the front façade of the Mencur Camii has fallen into ruin, but the inside and back wall is well-preserved. The large open windows that line the back wall give fantastic views of the Arpa Cayi below. I can imagine one look could inspire holy thoughts.

The beautiful symmetrical mosaic work so often associated with mosques was not lost on this one but also incorporates the Armenian style of polychromatic stone. The ceilings are adorned with beautiful red-and-black honeycombs, stars, and niches.

A small opening outside the building leads into the minaret, where a heavily damaged staircase remains. It’s prohibited to climb the minaret now, but taking a peek inside I found this gem of modern day calligraphy. That’s right, it’s Pacman. Pacman graffiti on good ol’ Ani.

On the outside of the minaret, two-thirds of the way up, the Arabic word bismillah was subtly incorporated into the stonework.

From outside the camii two inaccessible ruins are visible. First, up on a hill and adorned with a Turkish flag, is the Ic Kale or the Citadel. Apparently, it houses extensive ruins of a castle or fortress, but I wouldn’t know...off limits.

Looking farther in the distance, out into the Arpa Cayi, another small monument is visible. This is the Kiz Kalesi or the Girl’s Castle. How, or why, it was built on this little promontory point I have no idea. But, it’s quite a shock when you suddenly see it—at first, it blends into the surroundings, and then it just pops out at you like woah.

After taking the requisite time to stare in awe and consider the secrets that lay in those inaccessible ruins, we moved on. Time was passing us by quickly.

Following the marked path, we had a view of Armenia sans river. Looking across a dry valley, we could see caves carved into the rock walls, which were likely man-made and used as shelter. A similar phenomenon on a greater scale can be found in the ash and tuffs of the Kapadokya region of central Turkey.

Eventually, we came to the next ruin: The Church of St. Gregory of Abughamrentz. It’s a small building with a beautiful and unusual 12-sided external shape that sticks out like a little lighthouse along the horizon. Inside, it’s comparatively unremarkable but it was built for a single family, the wealthy Pahlavonis, which is impressive.

It was getting late, so we kept moving and got to The Church of the Holy Apostles. This place was originally a church but during Seljuk rule it was turned into a caravanserai.

It looks, on first glance, to be in a high state of disrepair. However, it is actually not as bad as it seems. In fact, it is probably the most fantastic example in all of Ani of the intricate geometric patterns, script carvings and molding techniques the architects employed.

Unfortunately, the building is rapidly decaying. On the bright side, the erosion of the building gives a look into the interesting inner engineering of the walls—stacked, unpolished, flat stones.

The next “building” we came to was…The Church of St. Gregory!

Wha? I thought we were already here.

Well, it is the Church of St. Gregory, but it was built for King Gacik I. So, you know, a bit different.

I actually found this relic to be quite neat and one of my favorite stops of the day. All the remains of the original structure is a wall surrounding a small paddock of crumbling columns and large carved stone blocks.

But, the decoration on and the various shapes of these blocks is fantastic! There is no scale on the pictures, so you can’t tell that these blocks were huge. It took a lot of climbing to get around in this place, but there were some great picnic spots once you got in!

After Gacik I’s church we walked to the remains of the Zoroastrian Temple, aka The Fire Temple. It is generally considered to be the oldest surviving monument in Ani and goes to show just how far back in history this place was occupied [pre-Christian times]! Unfortunately, all that remains are four fantastically thick and stumpy columns and some surrounding wall structures.

The final stop on the trail was another favorite of mine—the Gregorian Church…or more aptly named The Gregorian Church Wall. It’s just a wall standing in the middle of a field! For some reason, it makes me laugh.

After seeing the wall we found ourselves with a bit of time left, so we decided to look for the last site mentioned in the LP—the Seljuk Palace and the Kaya Kilesi. We weren’t sure if we actually found it, but we did find some shade and got as close to Armenia as we would on the trip.

And then we headed back to the entrance.

We were tired and hungry by the end, but the trip to Ani was really a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I am so lucky to have had the opportunity to visit. At this point, Ani ranks in my Top 3 Favorite Places Visited. It is just outstanding.

Hopefully, its essence and atmosphere will be retained for centuries to come, but I’m not holding my breath given the current state of decay. In other words:

Go Visit Ani. Now!

By the time we returned to Kars it was early afternoon. Yvonne and I were starved, so we immediately headed off to get something to eat. We stopped at one of the numerous kebapcis that lined the street and ended up having what would be an incredibly filling meal for the cheapest price ever: 4 YTL for both of us.

A meal of soup, salad, bulgur pilaf and a small lahmacun for just 2 YTL each! We actually only ordered the lahmacun, everything else was included for free! Can you believe it?!?! No wonder the turnover rate of buissinesses in Turkey is so high—can’t make a profit at those prices!

After lunch we putzed around and went to a grocery store looking for snacks. What we found was the Sinergy Bar.

Remind you of anything? Thank you, Turkey, for disregarding copyrights.

Yvonne also wanted to pick up some Kars Peynir to bring home, so we walked around a little and scoped out the different deals. Eventually, we just decided to go back to the hotel and take a little nap.

Around 4 o’clock we picked up Katrina and the three of us took a walk up to the Kars Castle. It was quite a steep hike, but there was a nice breeze when we got to the top. From the fortress we had some splendid views of the city and the mountains along the horizon. The city looked much bigger from that view than it felt when we were walking around downtown. And, of course, the entire castle made for a great picnic spot!

We walked around the fortress for a bit, scoping out the decaying ruins and climbed to the highest point. There was a big Turkish flag at the top [of course], but the gate was locked on the chamber surrounding it. So, we just sat on the steps outside for awhile and then started walking back down. The gates closed at 5 o’clock and it was getting to be that hour anyways.

Unfortunately, while we were at the tip-top we met some young boys who heard us speaking English and decided it would be a keen idea to harass us. So, they started throwing stones and making comments at us as we were walking down. One stone hit me on the head and I was royally pissed. When Yvonne and I finally blew up at them in Turkish they shut up.

We got back to the hotel and made plans to go out for dinner later that night with Katrina and Maps, if he was feeling better.

Around 6 o’clock we started out, trying to find a meze place the LP had mentioned. Unfortunately, it turned into a convoluted trek and lots of questioning locals…none of who had ever heard of the restaurant we were looking for. Oh how typical an experience with the LP in Turkey. It’s generally reliable for specific sites but with business turnover as it is, you can’t really depend on it for restaurants.

Eventually, someone we asked pointed us to another meze place, so we went there. It was ok, but we were the only people in the place and it ended up being more expensive than we had expected it would be. Nonetheless, it was good.

On the way back we were all talking about dessert. Katrina and Yvonne wanted a Cornetto and I wanted some pudding. The gals got their ice cream and Yvonne and I stopped at a pastahane to get me some pudding. Unfortunately, it was rancid. The guy gave me some baklava instead, which was good, but not quite satisfying.

It was about 8pm by the time we were done and we were pretty zonked. So, it was back to the hotel to make plans for the following day’s trip to Dogubayazit and the great Mt. Ararat!

adventures in the Far East [part I]

Day 1: Monday August 13, 2007

Sometime last year, I was afflicted by the sudden fear that I would never manage to travel to eastern Turkey. I was convinced that all the other Fulbrighters would leave, I’d be stuck alone, and thereby I would have no one to go east with. Its one thing to be going to the western coast, but I much preferred that I travel with someone else to the east…if nothing else, it reassured the Loved Ones back home.

sidenote #1: This is an important one because I do not want to be misunderstood.

Eastern Turkey is generally viewed, and rightly so, to be a more conservative region of the country. It is a region filled with tension between Turks and Kurds and, in the past, has been victim to some terrorism, though that is mainly concentrated in the southeast [here I speak of the northeast as simply “the east”]. Note, however:

This does not mean that it is unsafe to travel in eastern Turkey, even as a lone woman.

While women, especially those of the blond hair-blue eyed ilk, are prone to getting weird looks and cat calls, it is rare that one feels physically threatened. It's really more annoying than anything else...but it can be annoying in a way you've never known.

General common sense is, of course, necessary, and traveling with a partner helps one avoid awkward situations [duh]. Luckily, because it is a more religiously conservative region, there’s not much to do in the evening as there aren’t really pubs and bars open and movies are all dubbed. This means one inevitably returns to the hotel at an early hour to watch crappy French or German MTV instead of standing around outside in the dark. Thus, the goals of common sense are aided by the general conservative environment! Who’d have guessed?

In all seriousness, the east is not a place to fear and the people there are generally happy to help. Additionally, any knowledge, really any knowledge, of Turkish is a big plus—even if that just means knowing how to say please and thank you—as it attracts people and inspires the kindness and hospitality that Turks are so known for.

I ardently encourage people—men and women—to go visit eastern Turkey. It’s a fantastic place with an incredibly rich history—so many cultural, religious, and ethnic groups have inhabited it at one time or another—and there are such beautiful relics to show for it. Added bonuses: it’s easy to get around and there are oftentimes many other internationals [French, German, Israeli] traveling the same route, which can be helpful in terms of information and grouping.

Lucky for me, my prophecies were unfulfilled. Dear Yvonne stuck around, consequently, I got to travel out east with someone cool who prioritizes food as much as I do. Can it get much better than that?

Now, if you’ll remember, back in August I had a momentary moral crisis about leaving Ankara during the drought. Thankfully, my moral stature is easily shattered and I got over it, resulting in said trip with said cool person to The East [Kars, Dogubayazit, Van].

Yvonne and I were very much flying by the seat of our pants. I returned from Budapest on August 10^th and we headed out east on August 13^th. We didn’t even really talk about going until I got back to Ankara so, obviously, we didn’t do a whole ton of planning. In retrospect, we were pretty stupid:

Yvonne was living in Istanbul and I was in Ankara. We planned to start in Kars, but the Kars airport was closed. Consequently, we had to fly into Erzurum. Lucky for us, we could get on the same plane—originating in Istanbul [Yvonne], stopping in Ankara [me], on to Erzururm [both of us].

Now, that was a pretty stupid plan, no? Sure, I would know if Yvonne had made it on to the plane, but what was she to do if I didn’t make it? Of course, we didn’t really realize this scenario until that morning…when we were both seated on the plane [hoorah!].

So, off we were to Erzurum. It was a pleasant flight, except for the fact that we were both famished but everything, and I mean everything, is strictly For Sale on the plane. That means any snacks are for purchase. No complimentary nothing! Egad. Luckily, neither of us was thirsty and I had keenly thought to bring some granola bars along.

The Erzurum airport was nice—not too overwhelming—and the bus to the otogar was easy to find. We hopped on, paid our 5ytl and managed to get to the station pretty quickly. Unfortunately, just as we got to the otogar a bus to Kars was about to leave and it was filled to the brim. The next one wasn’t leaving until 4pm. Drat.

But, better to have a seat than to stand for the three or four hours on bumpy dirt roads. So, we went into the otogar and bought tickets for the 4pm bus. Hilariously, as I was walking into the main hub I saw the attendant from the Ankara-Erzurum bus I’d taken with Tiffin at the beginning of our Black Sea adventure. I think he recognized me, as well, because we both did a double take. I reckon he only remembered me because of my entirely awkward sleeping position and perhaps recounted the misery of how he constantly had to chide me for having my feet sticking out in the aisle.

Haha, how ridiculous! But, I digress.

Yvonne was famished, so we went into the cafeteria and munched. It was only about 2pm at that point, so we still had awhile. We went upstairs and Yvonne read while I tried to read but instead fell asleep. Eventually, 4pm rolled around.

We boarded the bus—lucky us, front row seats [that’s what you get for being a foreigner]—and immediately realized that it was going to be a long, hot ride. Yvonne rushed out and bought some more water.

The bus was crowded and the ride took us over some bumpy, dusty roads. The scenery, however, was truly fantastic. We drove through a deep canyon, surrounded by incredibly pink rocks.

sidenote #2: Really, those rocks were fantastic. The only time i've seen a rock that pink--we're not talking pink like a granite here, this was pure pink--was at the Tuscon Gem and Mineral Show. There was this incredible halite [salt] that was bright pink and had beautiful crystalline shapes. Truly magnificent stuff. But, that pink was a result of a certain type of bacteria, which I doubt explains the pinkness of this stuff.

Unfortunately for my rump, however, the trip took longer than expected…partly because we had to go quite slowly since the dust became so blindingly thick at points. It was dark by the time we arrived in Kars, but the driver was kind enough to bring us to our hotel. I was glad for that as I was not stoked about walking around Kars at that hour in the dark with my bags unsure of where I was going.

The hotel was mainly packed with businessmen and other foreigners traveling to Kars to visit Ani [ruins of the ancient Armenian capital], i.e. the same as us! The guy running the desk was a bit gruff, but he treated us with more sympathy than the other tourists because we spoke Turkish. He helped us organize a trip to Ani the next day—a number of people in the hotel were going and there is one guy in Kars who runs a minibus service [he’s actually mentioned in the LP].

We brought our stuff upstairs—not an easy task, I should say. Those stairs were at such an angle, nearly vertical, and we were tired. But, we made it and the room was nice enough. We decided that we should go get some dinner before it was too late and made our way out. On the way down, we stopped by a room where we heard English language TV seeping through the door. We thought we’d ask their opinion on places to eat. The couple—Katrina and Andrew—were from New Zealand and suggested just checking out some places down the main drag.

So, we headed down the street. We saw one place and analyzed the food selection, decided against it, proceeded a bit farther down the street, and then realized there was no other choice. We turned back and ended up with a bunch of yummy ev yemek.

Just as we were finishing up a scrumptious sutlac [sootlach; rice pudding] two fellas, who obviously knew no Turkish except “adana kebap”, walked in and stood around awkwardly. They did know some English, but Yvonne and I couldn’t place their accents. There were some strange exchanges between the guys and the man behind the counter, but eventually they managed to order some kind of kebap. And then…they left.

Everyone was pretty confused.

And then…they came back. With their packed backpacks.

I suppose they were taking a night bus somewhere and thought to have a late dinner while they waited.

The waiter and the cook were discussing how strange the guys were and Yvonne and I laughed because we could understand what they were saying. The waiter gave us a big smile and the we noticed an increase in the Funny Factor of the subsequent comments.

Eventually, though, enough was enough and Yvonne and I went back to the hotel to relax and watch crappy dubbed French MTV.

Our first foray into French MTV was a fantastic one as it gave us this little gem by Kamini. Since returning from our trip this magnificent testament to the art of music has saved me from the depths of despair on oh-so many occasions!

disclaimer: this is NOT for those under 18 or over, let’s say, 32?; those with an aversion to the French language; those with no sense of humor. i will take absolutely NO responsibility for what it does to you, whether that means shaking your head or cramping in your stomach from laughing too much.

After laughing our butt’s off and being entirely unsure as to how we should react, we fell in to bed, dreaming-oh-dreaming of the coming day’s adventure to the glorious ruins of Ani!