Kevin Blake's Blog

Pamukkale is just beautiful, and exactly what I needed after the busy non-stop Istanbul. It creeps into the north east corner of the Central Aegean region, though Pamukkale is far from the sea, and seated at the base of an incredible cliff from which it takes its name, “The Cotton Castle”.

For the geologists among you, of which I know there is one – I’ll give a little background. The rest of you can skip straight ahead to the pictures on blakepics if you like. It was such a sight, I couldn’t just write about it without one.There is a spring saturated with dissolved calcium bicarbonate at the top of the cliff. As the water surges over the edge of the plateau, it cools, gives of carbon dioxide and calcium carbonate precipitates as hard chalk. This has been going on for millennia, and forms the fantastic layout that’s become a UNESCO World Heritage site. Further proof that I should devote large amounts of my holidaying time to visiting that list.

If that weren’t enough, the spring emerges in the centre of the ancient city of Hierapolis, founded during the second century BC. It was visited personally by three roman emperors, and contained a health spa not too dissimilar to the one there today. During the Byzantine period, it slid more into obscurity, before being abandoned in the 12th century after the arrival of the Selcuks.

Entrances to the ruins and the travertines are via the aptly named North and South gates, which both feature visitor centres. Cleverly placed long hikes in open sunshine away from anywhere of major interest. There is also a smaller path at the base of the cliff somewhere between these two, originally designed to allow the local villagers to visit the pools. Staying in the local village, I considered myself to be one of them so headed straight up that way. You have to remove your shoes to walk up there (and around any of the pools), because the people who run the site are bastards and enjoy watching weary travellers jump around as sharp stones get stuck into their feet. Still, I detached body from mind, and walked about oblivious to the squeals of pain around me. And followed someone else. So I knew where, and where not to step.

It felt as though I was back in Iceland, walking the steep snowy trail down to the Gulfoss waterfall, with brilliant whites all around. However, with the hot sun shining down from above, and paddling through pools and streams of warm water this was a very different experience. I was very, very happy to have left behind all the cars and constant noise of horns blaring in Istanbul.It’s now approaching the end of my second day in Pamukkale. The sleepy village, and natural surroundings have relaxed me completely. From watching the sunset at the top of the cliff as the the bright orange colours dance across the pools, to strolling along the quiet streets past children playing and smiling villagers.

Turkey, I hear, is full of this contrast. Only the large cities like Istanbul and Ankara are filled with bustling people, all with somewhere to go, and carpets to sell. This is only partly true of Pamukkale, which is still not without its fair share of carpet shops. The computer in the bus company offices stays firmly off, the children laughing and playing in the streets always waving and smiling hellos, and families sit outside of their homes enjoying a meal together. The first two times I tried to find the hostel, I wandered aimlessly for 30 minutes before stumbling across it. In that period, I must have asked a total of 20 different people where to go. Every one of them was at least willing to offer a smile with their shrug, with many asking if they could help. I did look lost, yes. The hostel itself has tree houses in the garden. Which is really cool, and one of the reasons I booked this one. Sadly you don’t get to stay in them overnight but they are decked out with cushions and tables which makes them a great place to relax out of the sun. It’s great to be here

With all of that in mind, tomorrow evening I’ll be catching another overnight bus to Goreme, in the heart of Cappadocia (12 hours away). No tree houses, but it does look from the web site as though it might actually be a cave. I’m looking forward to this immensely

Up until now, I have been booking my hostels through hostels.com, usually a day before I leave the last place. I just like to know that I have somewhere to stay, before I’ve been on a bus for half a day. It’s been great, but now I’ve found something better I’m just not going to turn back.

The website of choice for everyone else I meet seems to be www.hostelworld.com, and now I completely understand why, even if my reasons might be slightly different. Who knows.

I’ve made a concerted effort on this trip to cut down on my GPRS roaming charges. Which is the usual means for my blogging and some checking emails. I’d expected that to mean wasting my time hunting down Internet Cafes during the day, but the abundance of WiFi connections in Turkey hostels has meant that I can just jump on early in the morning or at night when I’ve returned to my room. Hopefully this is becoming more of the norm worldwide, and not just in Turkey. It’s certainly a helluva lot cheaper, convenient, and all included in the price.

So with this in mind, I thought it would be great to book my accommodation using the iPAQ. Alas, Hostels.com doesn’t even work on Opera Mobile. Hostelworld have totally catered for this kind of traveller. Not only does their site work, they also have a mobile version which is easy on the bandwidth.

Well done them

Well, SharpMT decided to delete my post, rather than upload it. So… lost that one. Trust me when I say that speaking to a random Turkish guy for 2 hours, when we couldn’t understand a single word of what the other was were saying was highly entertaining.You’ll have to just take my word for it that Topkapi Palace is quite cool, and that the Harem at said palace used to consist of 809 female slaves.

The dilemma of trying to get a passport out of the Hostel safe shall also go mostly unspoken. It is SO secure, that not even the receptionist knows the code.

But I’ve now left Istanbul behind, and I’ve had a great time, meeting some really really great people. A couple of which I at least have a small chance of keeping in touch with.

But now it’s all about Pamukkale. Maybe I’ll rewrite this entry some other time. Just not now

I’m not really sure what I’d do with a Turkish rug. It’s not that I don’t want one, necessarily – don’t get me wrong. It’s just that I’m not about the success rates of the sales techniques…

“You need a rug?” How many people have a little switch that goes off in their head at that point that squeals, “Hey, I DO need a rug. Thank you my friend, where do I go?”But yes, there is a prevalent rug selling culture in Turkey, and the streets are full of wannabe stores, probably 10 new ones a week if anyone checked to keep track (I make this number up entirely from nothing). I’m forever amazed at the persistence of Turkish shop sellers and restaurant owners who will stand on the streets night and day to be told “No” by at least 97% of the people passing. I know this, I’ve checked. And they suck you in, they suck in by trying to be your friend, and there’s nothing you can do to stop the onslaught until you’ve walked away with seventeen unique collectable rugs. Nothing!

“Excuse me, where are you from?”Ahhh, what a nice chap
“London.”
“Oh really? London… Are you planning on buying a rug while you are here in Istanbul?”
Shit. Shit shit shit. What can you do? “No.”
“No!?” You need a look of complete and total surprise for this part. They’ve practiced. “You’re *not* going to buy a rug?”
“No, demon! Nor any of your Turkish Delight! I’m not buying a handmade rug OR any of your devil jelllies!” Is what I wanted to say… “Nope, sorry.” Is what I ended up saying.
“Heh, amazing.” Shakey head moment. “Well, if you change your mind… You know where we are…”

Great, now I’m responsible for his family not eating or his kids having to drop out of school. I’m a terrible person.And it’s the same thing, everywhere you go. I…just…don’t….get it… But, other people apparently do. There are rare rugs, collectable rugs, expensive rugs, cheap rugs, tradeable rugs the whole lot. Kids have them instead of Pokemon. Battle rugs. They trade them on street corners, as well as school playgrounds, I would assume. Each rug has its particular special power, and the loser has to give up their rug.

It’s not true.

But it could be.

So, enough with the rugs already. Today I had a look around Aya Sofia, the “Pink Mosque”. So called because it stands opposite the “Blue Mosque”, and it’s not blue. I also climbed to the top of Galata tower. Originally named the Tower of Christ. More catchy, I think. It’s 61m tall, and gives the highest lookout point over the rest of Istanbul. Oh, and it has an elevator. So the climbing, well it was just a few steps at the top.

Taxsim Sq. is just around the corner from the tower, and is the second (more modern) centre to the European side of Istanbul. Did I mention that? I’m not sure I did, it’s kind of important to note Istanbul sits on both sides of the European continent, and Asia. Maybe not important, but cool. Maybe not cool, but, look, it just is.One comment made about it was … “Wow… I could swim from Europe to Asia”. And it’s true. Except for the boats that could easily crush, kill, or maim before you get there. It’s the second of these such experiences I’ve had now, what with the tiny bridge joining the European and North American plates in Iceland, and it fills me with a great sense of wanting to boast about it on my blog. There. Done.As I was saying, Taxsim Sq. is a big square, with more crazy traffic, and a huge McDonald’s that I was particularly excited about. I was particularly excited because it had a big swoooooosh looking logo, instead of the familiar golden arches. I ran through all the possibilities in my head for the next 15 minutes of walking. Maybe the golden arches are a sacreligious symbol. Maybe they mean bad luck, or death. They still had Ronald, but why no arches? Perhaps there are already golden arches in Turkey. Perhaps they just don’t display them because they were once displayed on an extremist flag. Perhaps it conjures some sort of a sexual taboo in the minds of the Turkish. Maybe it’s not McDonald’s, but a counterfeit cheap knock-off. Maybe a famous rug manufacturer beat them to it and signed all of his rugs with that symbol.

All these possibilities going through my head. Then I saw another McDonald’s. It had golden arches.

One-off then.

Tomorrow evening, I’ve got an overnight bus trip to Pamukkale, the land of “The Cotton Castle”. I’ll tell you about it some other time. So now I’m town between the cruise down the Bosphorus, that’s the part that splits the continents and joins the Sea of Marmara to the south, to the Black Sea in the north. Or, visiting the palace. I’ll see how much my feet hurt. I’m looking forward to my escape from Istanbul though, with the hope of finding somewhere slightly more peaceful. Preferably where there’s somewhere I can sit, or even stand – without there being an extremely busy, noisy road with grid-lock traffic just 10m away.I can but hope

Whatever happens, I’ll be back here for the end of my trip, too. So whatever doesn’t get done tomorrow. I’m sure there will be time later.

So, it’s the first real day of being Istanbul, as last night didn’t really exist for anything longer than a few minutes.  And I’ve not really done much in the way of sightseeing so far.  I’d expected to spend the day on a frantic speed around Istanbul trying to soak up as much as humanly possible, and trekking the huge stretch of land that it covers, to to find my way around.  Instead, I found myself with four very capable guides whom I’ve really grown to like over the past 24 hours.  It’s very different to the hostel experience of Poland, which was quite far more sparse in the way of much company, and instead I spent the day sightseeing with good company, taking a boat ride, eating good food (well, some of it at least), and really just seeing a glimpse of the city.

All four have been here for 3+ days already, and dare I say it, some of the magic has sort of left.  Is it the last day blues I was sharing in?  Or will I feel the same way about this beautiful and sparse city closer towards the end of the week.  It’s not like the travelling ends today for any of them, but at the same time, the feeling of having to get a bus, train, or plane at any point in the near future, especially on the same day will kind of drain a person.

Either way, I can’t help but feel a little bummed that they’ve all left, or are leaving in the morning – as one has commented “you really hooked up with the wrong people for your first day”.  I only half agree.

For now, the mosques are impressive and there’s something other-worldly about them which is purely my own fault because I’m so not used to seeing them scattered around one after another like, well, churches.
So, interesting fact of the day on Sultanahmet, because, uhhh, I haven’t posted any yet.  Aya Sofya houses the huge brass-clad weeping column.  Legends are wide and varied, by all accounts at the hostel so far.  There’s a suspicious looking hole in the column … One story has it that some large religious dude pointed out that it didn’t face towards Mecca took hold of the pillar and twisted it around, leaving the mark. Another, and this is one Rough Guides support (any Lonely Planet fans out there should certainly post their own thoughts), St Gregory the Miracle Worker, appeared there, and subsequently the moisture seeping from the column has been believed to cure a number of conditions.  Another story again, and here I’m still rather hazy, a tear fell upon the column by another heavy religious-type, and if you place your hand into the hole, and it feels moist – you are said to receive great luck, or heal illnesses, remain healthy, three wishes, etc.  All that kind of thing

Personally, I love that this simple thing has conjured up fantastical legends.  And could just be a hole.  But, where’s the majesty in that?  I have my favourite.  You take your own