Food for Thought...

There is an old saying that states something along the lines of “ being in a foreign country will make you appreciate home”. Whoever said it first knew what they were talking about. I have been in quite a few foreign countries before and have experienced that renewed appreciation every time. But being in Turkey for the last 5 months has redefined the essence of appreciation for the good ole United States of America. I am not saying that Turkey is not a wonderful place to visit, because it certainly is. I have had the privilege of meeting some wonderful people with whom I hope to remain friends with for as long as I live. I have seen and done things here that will remain among the memories that I pull up in my later years when I want to smile and maybe even laugh out loud. But there are some things, that are totally missing or different here that most of us take for granted at home.

Wal-Mart. How many times have you griped and moaned about having to go to the big box store when all you wanted was just a small item like, let’s say shoelaces. My fellow pilot Manie from South Africa and I spent several hours one afternoon looking for new laces for his flying boots. I think he is still looking and in the meantime is relying on the old ones being held together by several small knots. Just little things. Like a spare key for his apartment. You would think that the local hardware store would be just the place….and you would be wrong. Everybody here in the little town of Avanos knows that if you need a spare key, you go to the pharmacy and they will fix you right up. You would also think that a pair of leather gloves, much needed to reduce the calloused pinky epidemic among balloon pilots here in Turkey, would be an easy find at the hardware store. Not only are they not found at the hardware store, they are not found anywhere! As far as I know, along with the other 50 or 60 balloon pilots working here, there is only one place within 50 miles to find a good pair of leather gloves. That would be in the city of Kayseri, but even then that is not a sure thing. Manie and Andy took the time to make the drive one day to pick up some gloves and came back with just some nice memories of a ride to the big city because the gloves were out of stock. If I didn’t say it before, I will mention it now…..a local Wal-Mart would sure come in handy around here.

Back in the summer it was so hot even the critters were looking for some cool place to get out of the heat. Unfortunately, among those looking were some nasty and vicious scorpions. Paco, my upstairs neighbor, like right above my place, can provide the best evidence of this. At last count he has found 6 of the little devils in his apartment. Manie, who lives next to Paco, has only found one, but it was under his pillow! I on the other hand have found none in my place, but I assure you it has not been from lack of trying. It is a complete and very thorough, before bed ritual that I have developed and follow religiously. I may forget to brush my teeth before bed, but I promise you, I will not forget to take my little flashlight and check under the bed, under the pillow, between the sheets, and all adjoining walls before I lay my head down to sleep. You’d think that the hardware store would have just the thing to keep the little buggers outside. Nope, but the pharmacy does. And just for your information, avoiding a sting from the scorpions here is a worthwhile endeavor. My friend Mehmet was not so lucky and was stung on the side of his foot. He missed a few days of work, endured excruciating pain, and his whole foot looked like it was going to fall off from the infection. I’m not saying we don’t have our share of critters that will hurt you back home, because we surely do. But we don’t normally have to do a bed check to make sure they are all still outside.

Living here for the most part by myself has forced me to cook for myself. That in itself is not a problem for me because I kind of enjoy cooking….certain things. I like to make up a big pot of chicken and sausage gumbo on a cool Fall day. Well it is very cool here now, (just got the first snow on the mountain this past weekend), no problem finding a chicken, I could pluck one of those right outside my door. But finding pork sausage is an exercise in futility. They do have something here that looks like sausage and I’m sure after an acquired taste, it is probably just fine, but I don’t think it will work in a good Cajun gumbo.

Thanks to a couple of kind souls back home, I have had a good supply of southern grits to give me good nourishment and great comfort. Did you know that a big bowl of grits with lots of butter can be enjoyed at any meal? I know this because I’ve had them for every meal and sometimes just for a “I miss home” snack. I was also sent some really good pancake mix. However, there is a severe shortage of maple syrup around here. There is something the locals call syrup but it is made from grapes and just does not have the right texture, taste or effect. And what I would not have given for a can of Rotel when I made a pot of chili the other night. Again, where is that Wally World when you really need it?

Everybody complains about traffic cops at home right? I would love to have a good ole boy Louisiana State Trooper follow me around for a couple of days over here. He would have writer’s cramp for sure. I love these Turkish people, I really do. But they are responsible for me breaking out in some terrible fits of road rage. Traffic signs, speed limits, and road markings are obviously just suggestions that are almost always ignored. Driving here has given me a whole new appreciation for the folks I use to fuss at back home for driving too slow…God bless ‘em.

Personal space. I know we all just pretty much take that little space between us and a perfect stranger for granted. We all know that it is just common courtesy to give folks a little breathing room. For example, at home when you go to the bank, there is a line, sometimes defined by a nice colorful rope, chain, ribbon, or such. There is a line which one does not cross until the person in front of you has completed their business at the window and moved on. The window at the counter is narrow and just big enough for one person to interact with the nice teller. Pretty simple, right? Not here it isn’t. There is no rope and no line. There is a number system. Walk in the bank. Take a number, have a seat, which is provided, and wait for your number to light up above the teller’s head therefore indicating it is now your turn to go to the window. Somehow that last part has gotten lost in translation. Maybe it is because the teller window is three feet wide and will fit four grown up people. I suppose folks think if four can stand there, then that is where they should be. Can you imagine doing your private banking business and having three total strangers standing next to you vying for the teller’s attention? And sometimes getting it as the teller will stop helping you and help them? And it is the same at the market check out counter. I have never been a patient person as some members of my chase crew back home can attest, but living here in this country has given me a chance to work on that a bit.

These are just a few of the little things I have encounter here that I find a bit different from home. I am in no way ridiculing or making fun of the Turkish way of doing things. I am a visitor here and should adapt to how things work and I am really trying my best to do so. For them, it all seems to be perfectly fine and logical. I’m the one out of sync. So as I wait for my departure I will do my best to fit in with the locals as they have been so gracious to allow me to at least try. I hate to say it, but having had this experience I believe I have definitely garnered a newborn appreciation for some to the little things that we all take for granted in our everyday lives. And I am glad to say, I have learned much about some things that I previously did not have a clue. In a whole lot of ways, people are pretty much the same all over the world. It is often merely our own perception of what is normal that makes them appear to be different.

The Secrets and Mysteries of Cappadocia

The longer I am here, the more questions I have. But the answers, like everything else in this part of Turkey, come very slowly, or sometimes not at all. There are things about this ancient place that have been a mystery for a very long time. Some will remain so until, well, forever, or the end of time, which ever comes first. But some can and have been solved, maybe only momentarily, and then fall right back into the secret category.
One such secret was revealed to me today as I was assuming the role of “accidental tourist”. I have gotten into a pattern of not planning too far ahead around here. The only given is that every day I will hopefully fly the very big balloon, have breakfast, take a short nap, spend the rest of the day doing whatever, find something to eat for supper, and go to bed. And then repeat the next day. It’s that span of time called “doing whatever” that is usually taken up by spur of the moment whimsy. This morning for some reason I decided to drive the jeep to Cavusin, park it under some nice shade, and walk a part of Rose Valley I have not seen except from the air. The days are getting nicer now and it is possible to actually go trekking in the middle of the day. A week ago you would run the risk of heat stroke by venturing out between the hours of 10 am and 6pm. But now it is quite pleasant most all day, still a little hot in the direct sun, but find a little shade and it is automatically 10 degrees cooler. So off I go, camera, gps, and water bottle in tow.
After being here for three months, one of the mysteries is getting a little clearer. Rose Valley is really one of the five “fingers” of Red Valley. Red Valley, or Kiliclar Valley, is quite large and runs from the town of Goreme like a giant hand to the village of Cavusin. But within its’ boundaries there are at least five smaller valleys, or canyons really, that spread out like fingers from the palm end at Goreme, to the finger tip end at Cavusin. There are hundreds of hiking or trekking trails as they prefer to call it here, throughout the entire complex. And for the most part, all but a couple are not marked. Maybe a dab of red paint on a rock here and there, and sometimes an arrow pointing a particular direction, sometimes straight up. So it makes for a very confusing and mysterious place. Adding to the misery is the fact that no complete or comprehensive map exist of this wonderful place. Another secret I guess. Between you and me and the fence post, I think the reason is simple. The tour guide people want to take you on a trek and having a nice map available for individual trekking pleasure would be way too easy and cut into their booming business. But that’s just me talking.
While Joy was visiting we were on a quest to find as many cave churches as possible. Sounds simple enough. Not so. First there are the written “tourist guide books”. They do a very good job of telling you there are beautiful and exotic stuff to see just about everywhere. But the directions to get to these sites are horrendous! For example. We made no less than three attempts to find the “Madonna” Church. The book says, “If you follow the pathway split from the Tokali Church you can reach the Madonna Church. It is far from the main road around 250 meters. It is located to see the whole Kiliclar Valley. The Church is entered through a 5 meter long narrow passage.” No problem finding the Tokali Church because it is on the main road and, what a novel idea, it has a SIGN on it that tells you it is indeed the Tokali Church!!!! Not so for the lady Madonna. It is one of Cappadocia’s best kept secrets. No signs, no paint, no arrows and about a dozen “pathways split” in the vicinity of the Tokali. But I swear….I will find it before I leave here.
Today, I was not even looking for cave churches. I just wanted to take a nice long walk and enjoy the peace and quiet and solitude of the winding trail that found it’s way through the various shapes and sizes of unique rock formations. Just a simple walk….but I’ll be danged if I didn’t find not one, not two, but three cave churches!
The trail leading into Rose Valley canyon is very dusty. So dusty that at times it is like trying to walk on a very sandy beach. But it soon becomes more and more narrow and the dust gives way to rock which makes for a lot easier walking. The sun was shining in a blue cloudless sky, but the tall rock walls of the canyon shielded me from any direct sunlight. When I looked up, all I could see was blue, blue sky stretching from the top of one side of the canyon to the other like a tightly fitted veil. I could almost see the “tracks” left by the dozens of hot air balloons that had flown gently over and through the canyon that very morning just a few hours before. I knew they had been there, and of course it was just my imagination that made the tracts appear. For they had come and gone just like they do every day, invading the space between the rock walls of the canyon, leaving not a trace or clue they had been there. My imagination kicked in again and I could almost hear the silence of the little valley being abruptly awakened by the roar of the powerful burners bouncing off the rocks. But now the valley was silent. The birds, that had been frightened by the huge balloons, had now forgotten all about the monsters, and were settled into their daily routines. I watched them many times scatter as my very big balloon would sometimes slip silently into the valley, before a deafening blast from the burner was needed to break the descent and send them into a flurry in all directions. I tried vigilantly to see a fox on the trail or sunning on the high rocks. I’ve seen them many times from the balloon, but now without the advantage of height, they are nowhere to be found. But probably really close, very still, just waiting for me to pass on by.

After walking for about a half an hour the little trail split off in two different directions, one straight ahead, and the other a hard left and going almost straight up. Much to my surprise, there was not one, but two signs directing the way to continue the Rose Valley route and the way to the Hacli Kilise, or Hacli Church. I could hardly believe it. An actual navigation aid directing me to one of the hundreds of cave churches in Cappadocia. Another mystery…why this one? Of course the trail that went left and up was the one to follow to get to the church. Up and left I went, almost giggling that I had found the way to go. The “up” was not too bad, but I had to be very careful while on these trails when there is any kind of incline or decline. The rock is very soft and tends to crumble very easily and all the crumbled rock pool together and it is like trying to walk on ball bearings! You can lose you footing in the blink of an eye. Which reminds me of something I have been wanting to mention since I got here. There is no OSHA here in Turkey. The Occupational Safety and Health Administration does not exist here. You are on your own my friend. No handrails, no warning signs, no nice steps, no nothing. You can kill yourself here in a heartbeat by taking one wrong step and nobody will give a flip. You should have been watching where you were going buddy boy!!!. Just thought I’d warn you.
Not far up the trail I found the Hacli Church. I know that’s what it was because it had two big signs that said so. I also found a Turkish man selling souvenirs and freshly squeezed orange juice. Go figure. I was in no need of any souvenirs but the orange juice was pretty good. The church was much like a lot of the others I have visited. Domed ceiling, a couple of little side room cubby holes and some fairly nice frescoes or paintings. The paintings were done by monks in the 10th and 11th century time frame and depict various scenes from the life of Jesus. Some are somewhat crude, while others are just spectacular with detail. All are amazing. Looking at them conjures up all kinds of emotions of different sorts for different people. For me it is just overwhelming to be standing in such an ancient and sacred place.
I was pleased to have found the church, and I wasn’t even looking for it. I still wonder why this one as so well marked? Secrets and mysteries abound here. I left the Hacli Kilise and headed on down the trail while trying to figure out just how I could make it back to the jeep without doubling back. I had left the main trail when I turned left and started climbing up and so now I was above the valley floor. Just needed to find a way down to hopefully hit the main trail that would take me back to the jeep.
I continued to follow the trail and eventually I could see the main trail down below. I slowly began to pick my way down when low and behold, another church appeared. It was very recognizable as being a church, but alas, no name, no sign, nothing. I stepped inside and was treated to a much smaller version of the Halci Church. Fewer frescoes, and not as well preserved. Bonus, two churches in one day. Now I could go home and write about my good fortune. Little did I know, the best was yet to come.
I worked my way on down and finally made it to the valley floor and the main trail without the ball bearings having their way with my backside. Quite an accomplishment in itself. The trail was a little wider now and led to a small stand of what looked like very tall aspen trees. I stopped under the trees to take a break and have some water and enjoy the slight breeze that was sneaking through the leaves. As I rested, I saw three people coming up the trail from the opposite direction. As they approached I greeted them with a “hello”. That’s my super sneaky way of finding out if folks can speak English or not. Sure enough, I got three hellos back. I then engaged them further and found out the couple were from Australia and they were being guided by a Turkish man. (They couldn’t find a map either.) The guide’s name was Necip. Out to the blue he asked me, “did you see the church just down the trail?”. Hmm, I thought to myself. Was this a trick? I did not see any church just down the trail. If there had been one I would have seen it, because today I have been very lucky with church finding. I relented and said no I had not. He replied, with, “please come with us, and I will show you the best church in all of Cappadocia”. Just like that. Not even a blink. Now I was very suspicious, but even more curious and fell in behind the three of them, heading back up the trail from where I had just come.
We only walked 25 yards before Necip stopped and pointing to his left, exclaimed quite calmly, “there it is.” I quickly looked in the direction he was pointing and what I saw was nothing. Well, not nothing, but it sure was not a dang cave church. What I saw was a solid flat rock wall 100 ft across and just as high with a few pigeon holes in it and one small opening on the far end. No signs, or any thing else to indicate that this was anything at all, let alone the “best church in all of Cappadocia!” What has this guy been smoking? I could see him smiling at my distrust as he motioned us to follow him. My God, where is OSHA when you need ‘em. We shimmed on our butts down a ravine and then climbed up the ravine on the other side using steps, more like handholds, carved out of the rock. This put us on a ledge that varied in width from 6 to 12 inches wide. On one side of the ledge, solid rock wall. On the other side, nothing but air. No handrails, no handholds, no nothing. We followed him along the ledge to the far end until we finally reached the little opening we had seen from across the ravine. Necip disappeared inside the hole and we followed. Halleluiah and revelations! Another Cappadocia secret revealed! What we saw was breathtaking. No, really…simply breathtaking. Like something right out of an Indiana Jones movie, the small hole we crawled through opened up into a huge cathedral style room with an arched ceiling 30 feet high and 30 feet wide with giant columns going from the floor to the ceiling. Nobody said a word. I couldn’t if I had wanted to. It was truly unlike anything I had seen or visited before. The columns were massive. There were cross pieces spanning the width carved from the solid rock. The arched ceiling had a column running the length of the room at the top center. There were side rooms. There were grave sites. It was the biggest cave church I had seen in all of Cappadocia. And apparently, a secret to all but a few. Why? Why keep this a secret? Why not let folks know it’s there and God forbid, tell them how to get to it. No signs, No arrows pointing the way. So obscure a rat would have trouble finding it if it was full of cheese. But here we were, standing in a place built in the tenth century that rivals any modern day architectual feat.
I finally found my voice and thanked Necip for his kindness. He did not have to invite me along. He wasn’t going to get paid any more. But out of pure human kindness, he said “come, let me show you”. Maybe it was Turkish pride. Maybe he is just one more example of the kind of people I have met in Turkey. There are many more secrets and mysteries we can talk about, maybe later. But for today I discovered a few answers to just a few of the mysteries. I have lots more questions about the secrets and mysteries of Cappadocia. However, thanks to my new friend Necip, there is no question or mystery remaining in my mind about the pride, compassion, and kindness that can be found in the hearts of the people of Cappadocia.