Yes, it's very safe here, and no, I'm not anywhere near the Syrian border (do you have any idea how big this country is?). I've been here for almost two weeks and the worst I've run into are extra enthusiastically friendly locals. So, American News Media, please take your head out of your collective asses and stop scaring the folks back home.
I say all this because I met a fellow American (female) traveler in Istanbul last week and she said she hadn't even told her family she was there because when she mentioned in passing that she was interested in going they just about lost their shit. Sorry to disappoint everyone but unless you have a phobia of aggressive salesmen trying to show you carpets you're probably pretty safe.
I arrived in Istanbul on March 1st and exiting the plane into the airport my first thought, verbatim, was, "oh Toto, we are not in Kansas anymore..." Turkey is unlike any other country I've visited so far. That being said I haven't visited any Muslim countries before this. And there is nothing like being very tall and very pale to make a gal stick out around here. Yeah, I couldn't look more like a tourist if I was actually trying. A theory proved in practice by walking around with my new friend Amitabh, who up until meeting and hanging out with me had been largely ignored while walking around, because he looks pretty Turkish. The first day we went out to do some exploring together he went from being ignored to being accosted at all points by the local salesmen, simply because he was walking with me. I can't say I'm flattered by the attention but it's harmless, if a little irritating. No, I do not want to buy a carpet.
But rather than starting with Istanbul, as logic would dictate, I'd rather catch up on events since. I'm actually heading back to Istanbul right now for a few more days so I'll have more to add to that post so why not just group it all together? So, Cappadocia!
I had gotten recommendations to visit Cappadocia left and right and with a little googling I understood why; a more uniquely beautiful natural landscape is hard to come by. I booked a plane from Istanbul to Neveshir, a) because it was cheap and b) the alternative was a 16 hour bus ride and I have my limits of patience with public transport. Also, have I mentioned that Turkish Airlines might be my new favorite airline? These guys are unbelievable. They are believers in real legroom and they insist on feeding you on every flight regardless of length. The food actually doesn't suck, either. Olives, feta cheese, sandwiches with cheese and veggies, eggplant marinated in tomato sauce, cake, they don't mess around.
I booked a shuttle from the airport through the place I was staying and when I arrived at the world's tiniest airport there was a guy with my name on a sign to pick me up.
Not kidding about the world's tiniest airport; you exit the plane onto the Tarmac and there is one baggage carousel that doesn't even bother to loop around, it just dumps the unclaimed bags at the end.
It was about a 30-40 minute drive to Göreme, where I was staying, and there I became acquainted with Emre, who as it would turn out is the nicest hostel owner in the entire country. Having been given tea and cocoa puffs, I then enlisted Emre's help in booking a hot air balloon ride for the morning which he graciously did, getting me a killer deal while at it. I spent the afternoon relaxing before heading out to dinner at one of the local restaurants, where I got a beer, white bean soup, salad, and chicken pottery kebab, aka chicken cooked with tomatoes, garlic, onions, and spices in a clay pot for hours. Oh boy was it good.
I attempted to go to bed early in preparation for my dawn balloon flight but naturally didn't get enough sleep. It was this evening when I first started feeling like I might be coming down with a cold, but didn't read too much into it.
My alarm went off at 5am and I pried myself reluctantly out of bed and got dressed. Emre came by a few minutes later to see if I was ready, and then escorted me and two fellow travelers next door to Kapadokya Balloon where they fed us breakfast while we waited for the 6am report to see if we were weather approved. Reason number one I chose this company - they will not fly if the conditions aren't 100% safe. I would rather no balloon flight than one that ends up with me in a casket, thank you very much. Lucky for us we got the go-ahead and loaded up in the car with out pilot and were driven to the middle of god knows where to catch our ride. The ride to catch the ballon was long enough, in fact, that I was starting to kind of jokingly wonder if we were being sold to ISIS instead, not that I think one American and two Brazilian travelers would be worth all that much. But luckily for all sides we arrived at the launching pad.
Considering how I normally feel about heights, none of this was making me in the least bit nervous. Perhaps because hot air balloons rising in the early morning is one of the most breathtaking things I've seen.
They helped me climb into the basket, and we got a quick tutorial on how to brace ourselves for landing should it be windy or rough when we got there. Then the guys offered to take photos of us which I happily took one of them up on.
And none of this was making me nervous, still. Even when we finally lifted off the ground I wasn't the least bit bothered. For someone who panics trying to climb a 12ft ladder it turns out hot air balloons don't scare me at all.
Taking off.
I can't even describe the feeling. You're truly floating; no engine noise, just the breeze and the occasional blast of heat from above.
And you can't beat the view.
The Valley of Love.
We were in the air for almost an hour when we came in for landing. Which was, oddly enough, plenty of time.
And our pilot managed to land directly on the trailer, eliciting a round of enthusiastic applause.
We then gathered around for the obligatory cake and champagne toast.
I woke up with the realization that yes, I was in fact coming down with something. But, stubbornly, I decided to go out for a bit of a hike. Swan's "rub some dirt in it" type bravado. Ill advised.
View of Göreme from the top of the hill.
I made my way back to the hostel where Emre offered some cold medicine, which I stubbornly declined. By dinner time I amended my previous refusal into grudging acceptance, dragged myself out for food at the same local place, and tried valiantly to eat, but mostly just picked at my food. Never a good sign.
Upon my return to the hostel Emre made me a cup of something called Tylohot, which is apparently the Turkish equivalent of medicated tea, then sent me down to bed with my own personal water boiler, a stash of assorted teas, and sugar cubes. By the time my room mate arrived late that night I knew I was undeniably, horribly ill. That poor Korean woman. Emre offered me pain medication, which again I stubbornly refused (you think I would learn). I must have looked like hell because at this point he offered to drive me to the hospital, which I declined graciously. He would offer at least two more times during my stay.
By the next morning after a sleepless night of alternating chills and sweats, the worst headache I have ever had, and intensely uncomfortable muscle aches, I was willing to swallow my pride and ask for the pain meds. I knew it to be true; I had the flu. This wasn't just a head cold, this was something much more sinister. Emre tried valiantly to get me to come upstairs and eat breakfast (if not go to the hospital), but as my stomach and I were having a difference of opinion as well, I limped back to my bed and didn't move for another 24 hours. My entire day was spent not eating, attempting to drink tea to stay hydrated, sleeping as much as possible to escape the intense head and neck pain, and intermittently paying for and watching movie rentals on my iPad. By that evening I got another offer for a hospital run, but insisted to Emre that if I wasn't feeling better by the morning I would go, but not before. I questioned this decision at least a few times during the night, but willed my immune system to do its job and didn't cave. He also tried again in vain to get me to eat something, and while I still didn't feel up to it, I did so very much appreciate the effort and check-ins, even in my thoroughly wimped out state.
Hallelujah, by the next morning I felt the fever break. Having sweated myself awake (aka the worst feeling in the world) I managed a shower which made me feel semi-human again. I changed into clean leggings, made my way downstairs, and announced to a visibly relieved Emre that I was alive and feeling a bit better. I walked the two blocks to the store where I loaded up on coca cola, water, and ramen (the only soup-like substance available in Göreme markets, apparently). I did go upstairs for breakfast at the insistence of Emre and his staff, and managed to unhappily choke down some plain corn flakes and a half slice of bread with jam before retiring back to bed.
Another day of movies and tea, punctuated by ramen. I was on the mend but now that I had my appetite back my stomach vehemently disagreed with pretty much anything I tried to put in it. Better than the headache, fever, and muscle pain, but not by much, as evidenced by my inability to be in any shape but curled up into the smallest ball possible cursing my digestive system for the sharp, shooting pain I felt in my stomach anytime I moved.
I gained two Korean room mates that night, who very sweetly tried to give me chips, which I accepted but couldn't eat. Feeling that I could at least survive a few hours flying the next day, I booked a flight to Izmir and plotted my escape from Cappadocia.
Waking up the next morning, I was definitely feeling better, if not entirely well. I missed breakfast which elicited a mild-mannered if stern lecture from Emre about it being the most important meal of the day, but he got me a shuttle to the airport and I thanked him profusely for everything.
Central Stone House, you are amazing, and I cannot thank you enough for helping me through what is honestly the worst illness I've had in years. I will be the first to admit that I am a miserable sick person; whiney and irritable and requiring more patience than usual. But this flu was something else. On a pain scale I was topping out at fucking just shoot me now and for me to even consider the hospital an option was out of character and spoke to just how sucky I was feeling. But these guys really put the kind in humankindness. In lieu of being at home with mom force feeding me ginger ale and chicken soup, I could not have asked for better care. In all, my trip to Cappadocia was unforgettable, if not exactly in the way I had planned. There is nothing quite like having your health back to make you appreciate how good it is to feel well.
I am happy to report that as I finish this I am back in Istanbul on the rooftop with a beer, and have even confirmed the source of my illness which was, as I immediately suspected, from a guest I met here before my Cappadocia trip. I wasn't the biggest fan of this Aussie to begin with (which is saying something, because I generally love the Aussies) but I knew it was probably more bad news when he complained of not feeling well and was popping cold meds like it was going out of style. As it turns out, both my friend Amitabh and one of the guys who works here both fell ill right around when I did. Finding someone marginally dislikable on a personal level and then catching the most horrific flu from them doesn't leave me feeling warm and fuzzy and I'll admit that I'm not sorry that he is one person I will never see again. I just hope he didn't share the wealth with too many others, particularly the lovely young girl he was making out with on the rooftop. You can't account for personal taste but I'm sure glad I didn't swap spit with him. Shudder.
Now just going to head off to grab my laundry from the express laundry shop, then probably to grab some food. I'm happy to say my body and I are back on speaking terms and I am excited to explore more of Istanbul tomorrow. I'll catch you up on Izmir soon.
Special shout-out to dad; does that do for pictures for a day or two? The man's been anxious for shots and I hope I didn't sound too snippy when I emailed back and told him it was just proof I was out there living it rather than just living to brag about it to you all... Love you daddy, I wish you and mama could be here experiencing it all first-hand.
~Swan
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