a trip to the dark sea of the world [part I]

Days 1 and 2: Sunday July 15, 2007 and Monday July 16, 2007

My trip to the Black Sea region of Turkey with dearest Tiffin was a somewhat spontaneous thing. While at Kerkenes we had discussed traveling together after the dig, but we weren’t sure where we’d trek around. So, on July 15^th, Tiffin showed up in Ankara and we had to decide where to go. Her departure from Turkey wasn’t until the July 25^th, giving us a whopping ten days to play around with.

So many options! Beach? Yoga-hippy communities in the middle of nowhere? Black Sea? Mountains? Hot? Cold? Ruins? Gah! We barely knew where to start. Lucky for us, Tuna and Ahmet had suggested the Kackar Mountains and the Black Sea as being the best. After doing a little guidebook reading we had to agree with them as it sounded awesome. So, we decide to catch an overnight bus that evening to Erzurum.

Of course, we made the decision on the fly [around noon o’clock] and just planned to go with the flow...

sidenote #1: As I’ve traveled in Turkey I’ve realized that that is the only way to do it here—significant planning is not particularly worthwhile. It took awhile for me to accept that approach—to just get on a bus, end up in a place…with absolutely no plan—but it’s one of the best character traits I’ve evolved since being here. Admittedly, I still lapse back to my second-by-second sickeningly detailed planning ways [maybe more as a procrastination technique/way to use the backs of all those rip-off calendar pages than anything else?], but I’ve definitely mellowed out a bunch since being here. Granted, I can’t deny that having a decent guidebook is key—they are helpful for figuring out where to begin and can have useful maps/historical background—but, you can usually only trust them as far as you can chuck them. It’s best to just…go...and have one in your backpack.

Conveniently, Robert was also staying at my place when Tiffin arrived—he decided to make a quick trek out to Ani after the dig and, though I couldn’t go with him, I was able to give him a place to leave bags and restore his sanity [two 16-hour bus rides in four days takes it out of you!]. He was heading back to the U.S. the evening Tiffin came to town, so we gals went with him to the otogar that afternoon.

After dropping Robert at the HAVAS airport shuttle we went find us some bus tickets. We were planning to start our trip in Barhal, a tiny town on the eastern side of the Kackar [cach-car] Mountains. Unsurprisingly, there are no direct buses to Barhal or the next closest town, Yusufeli [yoosoofehlee; Joseph’s hand], but the man selling us our bus tickets said that he would make absolutely sure we get to Yusufeli:

“Problem yok. Merak etme!”
“There is no problem. Don’t worry!”

Well, that was a relief—I was a bit worried that my Turkish wasn’t going to cut it out East, so having the help in place would be great.

Hoorah!
We were excited. Our bus departed at 7:30 pm, so we decided to go to Kizilay and see if the backpacking store was open—I didn’t really want to drag around a duffel bag for ten days. Unfortunately, however, it was closed. Sunday. Bloody Sunday!

After that failure we went back to my apartment and packed. At that point we also decided that, although we didn’t really have a plan it might be wise to get a room reservation in advance for, at least, the first night. It would not be cool to go to the middle of nowhere and find that there was no where to sleep except outside with the bears. Not cool at all.

So, we took care of that, put together a spectacular trail mix using all my dried fruits and nuts and the kilo of dried white mulberries [yum!] that Tiffin so kindly brought from Istanbul, ate the last dregs of food in my fridge, and lumbered back to the otogar.

We arrived at the otogar with plenty of time to do a some people watching before our bus was to depart. As we were mindlessly staring at people around us, a random fellow came up to us:

“Yardimciyim!” [yardumjihyihm]
“I’m a helper!”

I was completely confused by this and immediately began to panic at the thought that we were about to embark on a trip to English-free territory I was the primary Turkish speaker…if I couldn’t figure out what this guy was talking about…well, let’s just say it was going to be a looooong and miserable ten days.

But, he seemed a kind, if not a bit too serious or sad, guy; round and meek and himself a bit confused by us. And, after he repeated it a few times I finally understood—the guy at the desk had enlisted the driver to personally help us figure out how to get to Yusufeli. We later learned that the driver lives in Yusufeli…so, unlike other yardimcis I’ve had, this guy actually did know how to get us there—how lucky were we?! Excited, and relieved by this resolution, we hopped on the bus to begin our adventure! Ooh goody!

The first leg of the ride was better than I expected. We actually stopped at the Sorgun reststop, which felt somewhat strange as we weren’t continuing on to Kerkenes but, rather, we’d be blowing right through. Luckily, we got over the nostalgia bit and enjoyed a spectacular bowl of ezogelin corbasi [ehzohgayleen chorbasuh; Ezo the Bride soup, a delightfully spiced red lentil-bulgar soup]. That stop came around 10:30 pm and afterwards we fell asleep.

Overnight buses are the pits if you don’t get any sleep. This ride wasn’t too bad, but Tiffin said later that the attendant kept trying to wake me up because my feet were on a seat or something, which is totally yasak [yahsahk, prohibited!]. They are such Scrooges, those attendants!

But despite a crick in my neck and insatiable-unexplainable knee pain I was able to sleep until ~5:30 am, when I woke up to find us rumbling through a desolate and beautiful gorge that seemed to engulf us completely. Unfortunately, my camera was not easily accessible, so I have no documentation of the surroundings.

It was silent inside the bus which, combined with the gray and drizzling weather outside, provoking in me an odd warm-but-melancholy-and-somewhat-eerie feeling...but that may have just been the buzzy sleepiness talking. Whatever it was, waking up to that sight just bubbled up the excitement that always come with spontaneous travel and new environments.

And then, after 13 hours, we finally arrived in Erzurum circa 8:30 am. As we got off the bus we were immediately accosted by people screaming out destinations and trying to get us onto another bus. Pah, typical otogar behavior.

It was cold and rainy so Tiffin and I huddled together with our bags until the driver came over, telling us to follow him. He brought us to another guy and told him that we wanted to go to Yusufeli. The guy grabbed our bags and put us on a minibus. It was such a blissfully simple transition—without the driver’s help I think we would have been entirely too shell-shocked to move anywhere. Then we would have been stuck at the Erzurum otogar until the next day with nothing to eat and nowhere to sleep and it would have been super depressing and all…

Maybe an exaggeration, but the point is this: the help was more than just blandly appreciated.

The minibus to Yusufeli was slated to leave at 9 am, but we left a bit late. This prompted some [loud] grumbling from a few passengers. But, when we finally did leave, the bus was filled to the brim. Since the next bus wasn’t until 2pm, I can understand why they were willing to stand for three hours.

The variety of people and lack of places served to make the ride quite interesting and best described as a constant game of musical chairs prompted by people getting on and off. Additional entertainment came in the form of two cute, but pompous, little boys.

As we left the Big City we quickly entered into a landscape I can’t even begin to describe. It was absolutely stunning and a wholly unexpected sight. Basically, we drove along a deep river gorge spotted with wooden houses, sandwiched between clear flowing waters and fierce/awesome mountains, which provided some of the most outstanding displays of geologic structure I have ever seen. The sight was entirely overwhelming in such a good way.

Including the Kackar Moutains in our trip—especially the south-southeast side—was one of the best decisions we could have made. You see, there is a new dam project that has been passed which will entail flooding Yusufeli and the surrounding valleys. Inhabitants will be relocated higher in the moutains, but the access, views, and charm of the area will surely be devastated.

sidenote #2: A similar thing is scheduled to happen to Hasankeyf in southeast Turkey, but that has the added issue of flooding a major archaeological site.

Upon arriving in Yusufeli we were again privileged to be in the company of unnecessarily helpful people, as our driver immediately directed us to someone who would take us to Barhal—our final stop. We loaded our bags in the minibus and the driver told us that we’d be leaving around 3 pm. That gave us 3 hours to explore!

Now, Yusufeli is not very big. Granted, it’s bigger than Tiffin or I ever expected…but that’s not saying much. Nonetheless, we were shocked to see how busy and bustling it was. It was particularly crazy due to the July 22^nd elections quickly closing in. Yusufeli, being one of the bigger towns in the area, was thereby victim to incessant campaigning. Every persons' ears were being constantly bombarded by party campaign buses going back and forth along the main street, belting out obnoxious jingles and slogans at deafening decibels. And, of course, jingles being jingles, they get stuck in your head. Let’s just say I was not happy with the tune that I was humming for the rest of the day.

Needless to say, three hours was a long time to waste in Yusufeli. It had been rainy and freezing since we had arrived in Erzurum—weather I was entirely unprepared for after the heat wave in Ankara—and I couldn’t feel a good part of my body. So, we found a little tea garden where we indulged in our first cup of Black Sea tea, shared a karasik tost [kahrahshik toast; mixed melted cheese and meat sandwich], and people watched—i.e. identified tourists and guessed nationalities. There were a surprising number of them, mostly German, we supposed.

At some point, a young fellow came up to us and started speaking Turkish very quickly. I couldn’t understand him and he eventually figured out that English would be a more effective approach with us. So, he went on to explain to us that he (somehow) heard we were heading to Barhal and that he was a guide, happy and ready to provide us tours around the mountains!!

Oy vey. It’s one thing to have it happen in Istanbul, it’s another thing when this kind of stuff is happening in serious middle-of-nowhere land. But, we took his card and told him that if we decided to take a guided trek we’d be sure to call. And we were sincere.

Eventually he left and we decided to walk around a bit. Again, not many places to go, but we crossed the bridge over the furiously tumbling Barhal Cayi [chay; river, or tea!] and moseyed along the other side. We got back to the van with 45 minutes left to spare and we stocked up on cucumbers, tomatoes, and the ever necessary gum. Back at the minibus durak [deurahk; stop] we couldn’t seem to find our bus. Amongst all the incessant noise and screaming campaign trucks we finally found our driver, who said the bus was moved around the corner.

We decided that there was really no way to waste any more time in Yusufeli, so we just waited by the bus. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, our crazy potential guide guy showed up and started talking to us. It eventually came out that he really really wanted to recommend this [according to him] super great pension—Barhal Pension [owned, by pure chance, by his great friend!]—but we already had a place to stay.

That didn't deter him, however, and he went on to talk about his history as a rafting and trekking guide—a whopping nine years—and all the different people he met along the way. Most of the tourists that come to the Kackar Mountains, he said, are Israeli. Continuing to ramble, he began to recount a bad experience he had the previous year with an Israeli woman:

He was guiding a rafting trip down the Coruh River. It was a rough day and the rapids were at riskier-than-usual levels. There was an Israeli woman on the trip who was acting like a know-it-all—she’d rafted in Nepal, so she knew what to do. At some point in the trip, the woman fell into the water and didn’t listen to the guide’s instructions. She called for him to help, claiming that he had told her not to swim. He argued with her, saying they were in calm water and she could swim to the boat. She refused and, eventually, he jumped in to get her. They entered a rapidy section and she panicked, grabbing onto the guide and thrusting him underwater:

“I was sure I was going to die in that moment. I saw my life flashing before my eyes.”

Eventually, he caught her attention…by grabbing her breast. Offended, she let go and he came back up to the surface. They got back to the boat, but:

“She didn’t even thank me for saving her. She just said ‘where are my sunglasses? You lost my sunglasses!'.”

I guess the experience ended up jading his opinion of Israelis and, though he doesn’t refuse to guide them, he’s not exactly what you’d call kind in talking about them.

Tiffin and I didn’t really know how to respond, it was an uncomfortable situation. Much to our relief, the guy left and we decided it would be best to get in the van and close the door. We were quite happy when the driver came over and finally started up the engine.

We started the trek to Barhal with five passengers. It was a windy and poorly paved road, but the scenery was from a different world…liiiiike, Heaven?

Our first stop was the village of Sarigol 1 [sahreuhgeul; yellow lake], where we dropped a guy off. We then turned around and headed into the depths of an intense forest. Tiffin and I had been sure that we had been on the route to our pension and we were getting excited about how remote and beautiful it was. The forest was so dense and thick, filled with hidden homes, gates of bundled sticks, wild grapevines, and small plots of bright yellow sunflowers that glowed brightly against the damp forest greens. Throughout our trip that day, the colors had just been so vivid, intensified by the wet weather and dreary flat sky.

The road was a mess, but even back in these depths of nowhere we came upon DHP and CHP campaign flags strewn amongst the trees. Campaigning like this, managing to inch its way into every corner of the country—and let me assure you, this was a corner—made it clear that the upcoming election was really no joke.

Passing half-an-hour along this forest- and flag-filled nearly non-existent road, Tiffin and I were ready to be done with transportation already. You can imagine our dismay when we finally stopped, picked up three women and an old man, then turned around and headed back down the impossible road to Sarigol 1. There, we picked up the chap we had left before and a few more people.

Sigh…now it was cramped.

Twisting, turning, stopping, dropping-off, picking up,…more musical chairs and Hot Potato with Baby,…two hours later we finally get to Barhal. The van stopped and, thinking we had arrived at our destination, Tiffin and I got out.

“No! 15 kilometers further!,” chuckled our dear driver.

Ok, back in.

As we waited to get moving again, one of the ladies in back started to talk to us. She had traveled from Istanbul, her sister came from Antalya, but they were both originally from Sarigol 1. They agreed that it was awfully cold. Really, it was the middle of July and I was in desperate need of some long-underwear!

Tiffin and I couldn’t imagine that people actually lived there during the winter! We had considered rafting down the Coruh River, but then we looked at the furious rapids flowing next to the van and noticed the pure aqua-tinted crystal clearness—tell-tale sign of frigid water sourced from the Kackar Dag glacier. Then Tiffin put her hand in to confirm…and that's when we decided against the rafting.

But, I digress.

So, we got back in the car and headed up the hill some more. Again we stopped and I wasn’t sure if it was our stop. I asked, the driver laughed, and said:

“No, we’re waiting for a friend.”

Always chuckling at us, that man was...

We then proceeded to wait around in “town” for [at least] another half-hour. Finally, we started up again, packed to the brim with people once more. And then we arrived at our pension—Karahan Pension—and, with painful unfurling of curled up legs alongside audible sighs of relief, we descended from the van.

The driver gave us our bags then headed off. We looked at the sign. 100 meters thataway. OK!

Orrrr not so OK. We turned our heads in the direction the arrow pointed and our jaws dropped. There in front of us was a steep rocky slope with no significant trail marked. Goodness gracious! The last bit just can’t be easy can it?!

Slowly we started. All of a sudden, a group of three kids popped up behind us, including a very blond-very thin-very not Turkish looking-very spunky girl. The girl was quite intimidating and, it seemed, had definitely been raised in the mountains/was the ring leader. Nonetheless, there was something quite different about her that just didn’t fit in with the surroundings.

They offered to help with our bags and I stupidly said “no, we can do it,” forgetting that we were at nearly 3000 meters altitude, tired, and attempting to cross over slippery rocks with heavy bags. She shrugged and we trundled clumsily forward, almost dead by the time we reached the top. My lungs hurt for at least another hour after.

It seemed rather remarkable to us that the owners and workers at the pension could carry things up the slippery hill all the time. And then we found out about the pulley system...yeah, at the bottom of the slope there was a motorized pulley that you could put luggage or supplies onto and it's pulled up to the house. Cool...but that information cometh a bit too late!

At the top we talked to the owner’s son, Abu Bekir, and sorted things out. I had made a reservation the night before, but some things seemed a bit confused. It was particularly awkward because the other kids were surrounding us and there was some confusion over what language to speak. After five minutes of complete misunderstanding amongst us all, we decided to speak Turkish and settled things.

He brought us to our room which was…cozy. The bathroom was right next to us, but a treacherous set of wooden stairs needed to be braved to reach it. Really, the whole place was not made for nighttime walking. The view from our window was nice--looking right into the vegetable garden, we could see the family picking ingredients for dinner.

It was about 6pm at that point [we managed to just barely miss the 24 hours of travel mark!] and after settling in and layering up, Tiffin and I took a walk up the road. It was beautiful but cold and after a short while we came back. Abu Bekir brought some tea up and I warmed myself under the bedcovers until dinner was served at 7:30.

Dinner was wonderful—all homemade and hearty. The meal consisted of soup and salad, dolma, kofte and potatoes, pasta, and karpuz [carpooz; watermelon]! The soup was my personal favorite, primarily because of it’s physical temperature—hot!—but the flavor was great, too.

On our walk we had passed a number of people walking in the opposite direction who, we discovered at dinner, were all staying at our pension. There was an intense French family and a group of Israelis. Apparently, there was quite a large group of Israelis staying there, but they all kept Kosher so they cooked their own food somewhere else.

After dinner, Abu Bekir asked for our passports, so we traipsed back to the room to get them, nearly dying on some slippery rocks. Then it was off to bed, an early night because we were cold and super sleepy.

All in all, it was a great start to the trip. We couldn't have asked for transportation and transitions to be any easier. The first day was a real show of that famous Turkish hospitality.

pathetic loser.

aka me.

How, oh how!, could I have let my blog become so outdated?! To have chosen travel, adventure, and photo-ops over updates...

Luckily, the holidays are here, giving me further impetus to change my wily and uncouth ways.

Rosh Hashana New Year's Resolution: To get back on the crazy horse and update!
Yom Kippur atonement: I offer my most sincere apologies for being boring and never keeping my promises to update these past four months.

And with that...

Black Sea stories to come!

life in a non-existent state of being [part III]

Day 4: Wednesday May 22, 2007

For our last day in Cyprus, Ryan and I decided that spending it in Gazimagusa [gahzeemaoosa]/Famagusta would be a swell idea. So, we woke up and ate our complimentary breakfast before taking the dolmus to Girne. From Girne we caught another dolmus to Gazimagusa which put us in town an hour later, approximately 11 am.

Gazimagusa is split into two sections: the new part [boring] and the old part [interesting]. Upon arriving, we skipped the modern city—we didn’t really need to hit up the bank and gambling wasn’t on the agenda for the day—and headed straight to the old part of town.

The Old City houses a number of different historical sites and is surrounded by a set of beautiful walls. People still live in the old city and, while it is filled with a number of little tourist shops, it is nice to see that it is still used by regular residents.

Walking into the Old City through the main entrance, we crossed over a gigantic drawbridge and under a spiky metal gate—you know, traditional castle style. Inside, the streets and buildings were mostly stone, or brick. It was a delicate, quaint, and blissfully quiet little town…a wonderfully relaxing place to spend the day.

Upon entering the city, our first priority was to find a bathroom…boy, did we have to pee! So, Ryan has the good sense to go into one the coiffure shop and ask the owner where there is a bathroom. He was kind enough to let us use it. I went first while Ryan talked to the man and his son. Then I came out and had this delightful little conversation with him:

A: Thank you very much for your hospitality.

C: Don’t mention it! And you don’t have to worry—it’s very clean. It’s small, but I clean it every day. You know, to avoid AIDS and other such diseases.

Yep. There is no way I’m gonna be getting AIDS from that toilet seat. Phew! I was really worried, but he laid my fears to rest…ha!!

We talked with the man a bit longer—he was incredibly kind—and got ourselves a restaurant suggestion in the Old City. He said it was not only impeccably clean but also the only place that made traditional Cypriot food. Sounded good to us…especially knowing his standards of cleanliness! After thanking him profusely and, of course, declining tea, we left and continued on our tour of the town.

The Old City is quite small and easy to walk around. We didn’t walk the walls themselves, but they are supposed to be filled with neat little gates, bridges, and bastions. Within the walls are sights that range through history. We didn’t see everything—much is in ruins and we were kind of ruined out—but some of the highlights included:

1. The Royal Palace of the Lusignans--all that remains is a set of stone archways that lead into a little courtyard filled with cannons and cannonballs [odd?]. During Ottoman rule the palace was converted into a prison.

2. The jail cell of Namik Kemal--a prominent Turkish writer who was exiled to Cyprus [it was dark and gloomy, no pictures].

3. A crazy tree

4. Lala Mustafa Pasha Mosque/St. Nicholas Cathedral--originally built during Lusignan rule, this cathedral was converted to a mosque when the Ottoman’s captured the city from the Venetians. A minaret was added by the Ottomans, jarring the beautiful, identifiably cathedral-like, façade. Inside, it is comparatively mosquey, but the long stained-glass windows throughout the hall are reminiscent of the church’s original architecture. Many of the other mosques in Cyprus are similarly converted churches.

5. The King of Famagusta--Ruler of the Tour, he’s the self-proclaimed tourguide supreme in Gazimagusa. I can make no statements on the legitimacy of his claim as I did not take his tour. However, since was the only tour guide in Gazimagusa, I kinda believe him…

After the sights our tummies were rumbling a bit, so we decided to try the restaurant the coiffure had suggested. They had two set menus and I didn’t recognize any of the dishes. So, we randomly picked something comprised of…well, all I could understand was that it was “meat with spinach-like vegetable.”

And well, that's what it was...but, it was pretty darned delicious and nice to have some home-cooked food. The owner took a liking to us, once he found out we were Americans [not such a hard thing to determine], and insisted on talking politics [uugghhh]. He was nice enough, though. Not too critical. So, at his request, we gave him our contact info. I haven't heard from him yet and I don't think Ryan has either.

After declining several offers of tea and coffee we finally got our butts out of the restaurant. I wanted some postcards and we both needed cash, so we went searching around a bit for those things.

At that point, we decided we were over the Old City and it was time to move on. So, we hopped in a cab and headed off to Salamis, ruins of an ancient Roman city.

It was pretty desolate out there and we didn’t know if we’d be able to get a cab back to the main part of town. The last dolmus back to Girne left around 5:30 pm and it was about 2 o’clock when we got to Salamis, so there we were going to have to move pretty quickly through the site.

Salamis was immediately impressive. The entranceway brought us through a set of stone arches into a spectacular gymnasium, surrounded by large marble columns and filled with a number of headless statues. The columns were huge and there were also some nice mosaics remaining on the pathways.

We were, however, a bit skeptical about the locative originality of the sculptures--one of them was placed all too perfectly for photos.

Nonetheless, they were fantastic. Over by the theater there was even one that was headless with its head still somewhat attached! Apparently, when the Christians came threw they beheaded them all. I don't know why this one got to keep it's head and why it has a cross on it, but details.

After meandering through and past the gymnasium the site became significantly less interesting. We walked through sections of ruined walls and followed poorly marked paths to find the Roman baths and a stadium. It was nice, but this was no Ephesus.

After the theater, we got ourselves a bit lost while trying to follow the posted maps. We came upon another group and Ryan thought the guy in front was a private guide, so we followed them for awhile. Then we discovered that they were just as confused as we were.

Our time was running short and the path was long, so we saw what we saw and were pretty content with that. Some of the stuff on the map wasn’t even there—apparently, there are still more areas to be excavated.

Eventually, we came upon a small footpath trodden by numerous other tired visitors who just wanted to get to the beach. While there was still a bit more to see, Ryan and I were hot and the beach looked gorgeous. So, we too took the path.

And yes, the beach was wonderful. We were the only people there, save for one strange speedo donning man who kept doing weird things and staring at us. The water was clear and the perfect temperature. We didn’t have a lot of time, only about half-an-hour, but we managed to soak in the atmosphere a good bit.

Walking along the beach, we slowly headed back to the entrance area of Salamis. There we found a little café and a more formally set-up pier and beach. With the little time we had left, we munched on Magnums [going to the beach isn’t going to the beach unless you eat ice cream!] and enjoyed the view. It’s great when you travel and it’s not high season—peaceful and empty, you can actually enjoy and appreciate what you’re seeing!

Up the hill, back at the entrance, we asked the people at a restaurant where we could find a cab. Graciously, they called one for us and we went out front to wait. In the meantime, we played shadow games and this great one of Ryan came up—see how his arm makes a heart! Aww, how sweeeeeeeeet! Heh.

We got back to center city and caught the dolmus to Girne. From there we headed back to the hotel, just in time to catch the sunset over the sea. After hopping in the shower we went off to have a last dinner. The people at the desk recommended a restaurant at another hotel nearby, which turned out to be wonderful. We sat on a large open deck, right next to the sea, and had a delightful meal. I didn’t really know what to order, so I asked the waiter his suggestion. Oddly, every time we asked “well how is XYZ” he’d respond with the list of ingredients, rather than an opinion. Then again, I’ve received a number of befuddled looks when I ask waiters at restaurants in Turkey for recommendations…I guess they just don’t do that here.

After dinner, we went back to the hotel and slept slept slept. The next morning, we sadly said "toodle-oo" to the great view and the hilarious Hitit Bet: The Future of Betting sign to get ourselves to the airport. From there, we caught a flight to Antalya for a relatively uneventful but enjoyable three day Fulbright conference on the beach. Not such a bad way to reacquaint ourselves with Turkey!

Cyprus is a wonderful and easy place for travel, especially if you’re just taking a short trip. I could have used another two days—I’d like to explore the south a bit more—but I feel generally content with the time we had. The great thing about the island is that it has a rich history but isn’t too large. This set-up allows for a program with a nice balance of both sightseeing and beach sitting. We saw a lot but didn’t feel rushed—it was definitely a great place for an interesting and relaxing little spur-of-the-moment trip!

existing.

Day 3: Tuesday May 21, 2007

Well, Day 3 was the day…the day we attempted to cross the border into the Republic of Cyprus. We really had no idea what to expect, but we were ready for an adventure.

Being me, I ended up waking up at 5 am. While it was not-so-cool to be awake at that hour, I did get some good pictures of the sunrise. Nonetheless, I started out the day on the wrong foot—I was tired and NOT a happy camper.

After finally gaining my morning senses—it took about an hour—I started getting ready. While I was in the shower Ryan woke up and went downstairs to get us some coffee—we were going to be leaving before breakfast was available—which made things better.

Around 7:15 we were on the road. We caught the dolmus into Girne and from Girne we took a dolmus to Lefkosa. In Lefkosa they informed us that the last dolmus back to Girne would be at 7 pm and if we didn’t catch that we’d have to take a cab.

We said “ok!” and made our way to the border crossing. As we neared Ledra Palace [the crossing] I started getting nervous and worried. We had the KKTC stamps in our passports and we never could get a clear and sure answer on whether or not that would be a problem.

We arrived at KKTC customs and they stamped a piece of paper for us with no trouble. We then began our walk across the Green Line.

The Green Line is quite an interesting place. Unfortunately, taking photographs is totally forbidden, so I had to take some mental pictures. The Green Line is basically a wide street that encompasses a number of houses. The houses were abandoned when the line was created by the UN and this is a source of much contention—the people want their houses back! Apparently, you can take tours of the Green Line and on which you see houses that have been split in half—Turkish flags on one side-Greek flags on the other, people’s belongings in the same places as when they left, rotting breakfast on kitchen tables.

Just walking through the area, you can see bullet holes littering the facades of many buildings. The remaining houses are all overgrown with weeds and vines and trees, making the place seem like a jungle. It almost feels like you’re in a guerrilla war zone somewhere in the rainforests of the Congo.

While many of the buildings between the two sides of the Green Line are abandoned and untouched there are a number of active buildings as well, including consulates and a William H. Fulbright center. Why the hell there was a Fulbright center in the middle of the Green Line is beyond me. I mean, it couldn’t be in a more ridiculous place if it wanted to be. When we passed it Ryan and I were pretty shocked.

The Green Line is also chock full of propaganda and signs that are in Turkish when you’re walking towards the Greek side and in Greek when you’re walking towards the Turkish side. Entering from the Greek side there is also an intense billboard with jarring images of all the “recent atrocities committed by North Cyprus.” It’s quite explicit and disturbing, but it’s also dated to sometime in the 90’s.

Anyhow, when we got to the “border” of the Republic of Cyprus, the police guard manning the station didn’t do much of anything! He just took our passports, looked at the pictures, and said "later dudes."

It was totally underwhelming! At the very least I expected some inspection and a stamp! But, then again, we weren’t really crossing a border…at least, that’s the way the southern Cypriots see it. They think the north rightfully belongs to them, they think Northern Cyprus doesn’t exist, so how could we be crossing a border? We weren’t. And that’s why there weren’t border officials on the south side. They were just cops. Pleh.

The process was disappointing, but hey, we made it over! It’s better that a border crossing be easy than complicated, I suppose.

After crossing we popped in a cab and went to the rental car agency.

OH! I ALMOST FORGOT!

On the way to the car place I SAW A NANDO’S!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ahhhhhhhhhh!!!

Whew. Ok, continuing. Just had to get that out.

We managed to get an automatic drive car, which was great. For a bit more money we gained a more relaxed ride and the ability to switch drivers. Being the stick shifter of the two of us, I was not particularly keen on having to drive it on the left side of the road. It would be one thing if I was going to be there for many days, but I wasn’t. So, avoiding the added stress of that was something I was more than happy to pay a bit more for.

We only had the car until 5:45 pm. At least, that’s what we thought. We told the guy we were only in town for a day, so he said to us

“Well, if you want to drop it off at the Larnaka Airport for me, since that’s where you’re going tonight, I’d be happy to let you have it for the evening, too.”

Little did he know, we weren’t taking a flight out…we were crossing the border. We didn’t know if we should say that or not, what kind of repercussions it might have, so we kind of had to make up a story. This was the best part, when we started getting really desperate:

Ryan: Well, you know, we’re gonna have to do some stuff back at the hotel, so bringing it here will just be easier.
The Guy: No, no, you can have it until you need to go to the airport.
Ryan: Well…oh wait, Ayla, doesn’t the hotel have a service? Aren’t they going to bring us to the airport?
Me: Oh yeah, definitely! I forgot about that. It will just be easier if we drop it off at the regular time.
The Guy: Hey, I’m just trying to make it easier for you guys. I mean, this car is going to go to the airport right after you drop it off. So…
Ryan and Me: Ah.

And, in truth, it was really cool of him to offer us that. If I had been departing out of the airport I would have done it in a second…especially because a free service is basically the same as having the car. Yeah, our argument didn’t really make sense.

Anyhow, we got out of the situation somehow and continued on our way. Our key point to hit was the town of Pafos and Aphrodite’s Rock, which the guy said was about two hours from Lefkosia. Along the way, in Lemesos, there seemed to be some other good sites that we would check out if we had time.

Ryan drove first and did a good job. The roads were clear, for the most part, so it wasn’t too bad. As we started nearing Lemesos, we decided to try and find some castle we read about in the Lonely Planet guidebook. There was some complicated traffic and construction going on at the turn-off, so we got a little flustered. They love the roundabouts in Cyprus and driving around them is hard enough when you’re on the right side of the road!

While the general highway signs were great, the signs to the historic sites were a bit lacking. Consequently, we kind of fudged our way down to the waters edge. At that point, we had to choose if we should turn right or left. We chose left, but as we drove along it seemed the wrong direction.

Me: Ryan, in which direction are we headed?
Ryan: West.

Well, west is the direction we wanted to be going in so we continued. And continued. Aaaand continued.

Eventually, we gave up. We never found it. We ended up back on the highway at a place before the original turn-off…Yeah, we had been going east.

We weren’t too disappointed, it wasn’t a key site. We were more concerned with Kourion and Kollosi in Lemesos. So, we kept on truckin’.

Eventually, we started seeing signs for the Kollosi Castle. We followed them and found it.

It was more of a fortress than a castle and was actually quite small, but it was pretty nonetheless. There was a long, thin, nervewracking spiral staircase that brought you to the upper floor and the rooftop, from which there was a nice view.

There was a downstairs part, too, with some empty rooms and this one with just a strange cylinder in it.

Outside, it was very dry and dusty—something that surprised both Ryan and myself—and there were a number of cactus growing in the garden. At the same time, there were tropical flowering trees. Meh, who knows what’s really original.

Anyhow, again, the landscaping was well done and there were two incredibly tall trees in the main courtyard. So tall that they nearly reached the level of the top of the fortress! Now these were Trees of Introspection. These deserved the fame and title. However, they had neither fame nor title. However, their enormity can not help but evoke gasps of surprise and awe from an onlooker.

Exploring the fortress didn’t take too long and we soon continued to forge ahead. It was my turn to drive and after a slightly rickety start—the streets were like alleyways here—I got the hang of it.

We started to see signs for the Kourion Museum, which we decided to skip as the guidebook said it was unremarkable, and then signs for Kourion proper. There we went.

Kourion, which was settled first by the Argives and persisted into Roman times, is a beautifully preserved archaeological site situated on a hill with absolutely breathtaking views of the sea.

It has a number of well-preserved mosaics and a reconstructed amphitheater.

I can only imagine how wonderful it must have been to sit in that theater and see out to the ocean. We were there on a perfectly clear day and you could see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles. I think there was more to the site, but we didn’t end up seeing it. I'm content, though…we saw the good stuff.

After sitting in the amphitheater awhile, contemplating life, waxing philosophical, and realizing I was getting hungry, I found Ryan and we continued on our adventure. We took a winding coastal road which brought us through beautiful rock formations and wonderful glimpses of the ocean. It also took us through the British military base that remains in the Republic of Cyprus. Apparently, when you drive through that section you’re under the jurisdiction of British military law, so if they catch you speeding you answer to them.

Eventually, we came upon Aphrodite’s Rock. We parked, hopped out of the car, and took the underpass across the highway. As we exited the dark tunnel we came upon a most beautiful pebbly beach, with a few monsterous rocks and beautiful views of the mountains. It was a surprisingly secluded place despite being next to a highway. The water was warm—I dipped my toes in—and the waves made that persistent rhythmic wave-y noise they make. Delicious!

Filling ourselves up with viewing unfortunately did not concurrently fill our super hungry tummies. So, off we went to find ourselves some lunch. As we left the beach, we noticed a tree that was covered with trash. All sorts of papers and plastic bags were tied to it, as if it was a wishing tree or the Wailing Wall, but I think it was actually just a trash collection strategy...and it sure does work; the beach is spotless!

sidenote: Tiffin tells me that this is indeed some type of wishing tree. People come and tie paper to it for good luck, wishes, getting rid of bad stuff.

When we got back to the car park we thought about where to go for lunch. A few hundred meters back we had seen signs for the “Aphrodite’s Rock Restaurant” [which should have been our first warning] and we decided to go there instead of the dingy little snack bar by the beach. In retrospect, we should have gone dingy.

We got to the restaurant and upon sitting down we immediately noticed the prevalence of words we could understand, but just barely—it was the Irish. The place was absolutely stuffed with tourists from the UK. We spoke in Turkish to make fun of them and tried to focus our attention out the window at the beautiful view, but they were a pretty funny bunch of people.

We got our menus and decided on our orders. I got a fried haloumi sandwich and Ryan got…well, nothing he wanted was actually available [mind you, this menu was huge…like American Diner huge] and ended up with the fish of the day.

Our meal came and, though the service was a bit slow and brash, the food was decent. By the time we finished it was already 2 o’clock and we realized we were gonna have to book it to Pafos. However, paying for the meal cut that idea short.

We got up to the counter and received the bill: 20 Cypriot pounds. Well, we didn’t have Cypriot pounds…we had dollars, euros, and Turkish lira. Apparently, however, the guy only takes Cypriot pounds! I mean, we’re at a tourist hotspot for heaven’s sakes…of all places, this should be the one that takes any currency!

We tried to get him to take our dollars, but we had to do a complicated conversion. It turns out that the Cypriot pound is incredibly strong: 4 Cypriot pounds = 10 dollars. That made our unassuming, lackluster lunch cost a mind blowing FIFTY DOLLARS. Can you tell that I was not happy? I mean, the meal was good but not that good! Anyhow, we didn’t have a choice and we managed to do the conversion. The guy, however, could not understand how we did it. So, we gave up and I paid on a credit card. Lucky me…fifty dollars and surcharges. Super.

Pissed, we left and drove on to Pafos with wild rage in our eyes. Pafos was packed with people and we got a bit lost. Eventually, we made it to the town center. Then, we found it. The destination that was our whole point in coming to Pafos: The Mosaics of Pafos.

It was about 2:45 when we got there and we went to get tickets. However, once again, they only took Cypriot pounds. We didn’t have any and the banks were closed, so we went to the souvenir shop next door and managed to get some money changed.

We started at the introduction building and kind of separated. Then I walked outside and started heading up towards the crowds of people. I had no idea how large this place was and completely lost track of time once I came upon the mosaics.

These things were like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Perfectly preserved, colors included, there are hundreds of breathtaking mosaics all over the grounds of this UNESCO World Heritage Site. Actually, the entire town of Pafos is a World Heritage Site. But these mosaics deserve it more than anything I’ve ever seen before.

Just take a moment and look at some of these [sorry the angles are a bit odd]. The human figures are so true to form and the detail of each piece is excruciatingly perfect. It’s an entirely overwhelming thing to see.

Pretty swell, huh?

Unfortunately, my experience was brashly interrupted when I looked at my watch and realized it was 3:30, I had no idea where Ryan was, and we were gonna have to get back to Lefkosia to return the car.

CRUD!

So, I started panicking and looking around for Ryan. Luckily, I found him inside one of the villas and we decided to each take a bit more time to look around and then head out. It was incredibly disappointing to have to leave—this place deserves at least half a day and could probably use an entire day—but I am grateful to have seen what I did. They are amazing. Especially these ones in the villas, now covered for protection. Of course, the photos can not begin to do these mosaics justice and they are a must-see-before-you-die kind of thing. I will be going back. Without a doubt. Agh, just look at them!

While we were rushing, we did have time to each grab one of the incredibly large ice cream cones people were carrying around everywhere. I got a delightful combination of yogurt-melon-fig ice creams and Ryan got peach. They were yumtastic, especially the yogurt flavor, and a nice change from the gummy ice creams of Turkey.

And then we really did have to go. Ryan drove back. Again, there was no traffic so it was easy driving and we made good time. As we reached Lefkosia, we realized we had to fill up the tank, so we tried to get to a gas station. They were all on the other side of the median, however, and it took some crazy maneuvering to get us there. It took additionally crazy maneuvering to get us back.

When we got to the car place, I hopped out to let the guy know we were there—we arrived about five minutes late. But, when I got to the door I realized that…no one was there. The guy had gone ahead and left already! This had been our worst fear for the entirety of the day because, in that situation, we had no idea what to do. All we could think of was driving it to Larnaka Airport, which was totally in the wrong direction and we would surely miss the last dolmus home.

Just as I was about to go tell Ryan, I noticed an emergency/information phone number for the store. I went to tell Ryan, who said “this isn’t an emergency; we have to drive it to the airport.” No way. If there was a number, we were gonna call it! It made absolutely no sense to drive it all the way to the airport if we didn’t have to! Fair enough, it wasn’t an emergency, but it’s not like calling the number would send out the police and fire squads! GAH!

So, we went to the travel agency next door to the car place—our cell phones didn’t work in Cyprus—and the man was nice enough to let us use his phone to call. Of course we reach the rental agency guy who says leave the keys under the mat and the door unlocked and everything will be fine. See? No reason to drive it to Larnaka!

With that problem solved we made our way to the border crossing. Of course, some people want to look at the billboards and take some time to stop by the unexciting Fulbright office at the border…so, we end up moseying along very slowly, ending up at the other side at 6:45 and having to basically run to catch the last dolmus.

But, we made it and even though there wasn’t a scheduled dolmus they had one go. Unfortunately, however, I ended up with a creepy man behind me who kept trying to touch me. He intentionally sat down behind me from the beginning and then started to touch me. Yeah, I wasn’t a fan of that.

When we got back to Girne we decided to catch a dolmus back to the hotel. We got on and it ended up being packed. The back seat was filled with a six person family—2 adults [the father ended up sitting on Ryan’s lap for the ride], 4 kids [all super duper cute, especially the oldest boy who was like a little man].

Eventually the big family got off and it was a bit quieter. And that’s when we heard the news report about the bombing in Ankara. We couldn’t quite make all of it out, but we got the gist of it. It was a bit rattling.

And then I did something stupid. For some reason I thought we were closer to our hotel than we were. So, I had the guy stop and we jumped off. We started walking and we walked about half-an-hour before realizing that we were nowhere near the hotel. So, we caught another dolmus. However, this one took us on an unfamiliar route and we ended up going what seemed like halfway around the world to get back! It all worked out, however.

We got back and got some dinner at the hotel restaurant. Ryan got a second dose of bacon with a club sandwich. It was funny. Then, it was off to bed. I was pooped. We watched the news for awhile and then found Scream I on the television. But, being the lame-o I am, I was too scared and made Ryan turn it off.

Another wonderful day in Cyprus completed. It was particularly enjoyable to have reemerged into the real world—the Cyprus that exists. Actually, existing is nothing special. Not all its cracked up to be, I’d say. It’s pretty much exactly like not existing…just with better mosaics and a Nando’s!