To not leave Istanbul reluctantly means you haven’t embraced the cacophony of cultural opposites that define this city. It’s more than east meets west. It’s where ultra conservatism meets overt sexuality and where the muezzin’s call to prayer must present itself louder than pop culture – and pop music. It’s where seeing a woman fully robed in an Abaya frolic in the sea next to Europeans scantily clad in bikinis seems absolutely normal. From mosques to grand bazaars and Sufis to carpet shops, Istanbul charms you until the end.
Thankfully, the Ottoman Empire is the gift that keeps giving. Arriving in Cappadocia is spellbinding, immediately it feels like a movie set, and locals excitedly remind that in fact it was where the first installment of Star Wars was filmed. Historically, Cappadocia is a place to hide – where Christians escaped from Roman soldiers who were working to minimize the spreading of the Christian religion. The region was so suitable for hiding that the other-worldly rock formations (volcanic chimneys) allowed for immense subterranean cities with churches and underground dwellings containing everything from stables to kitchens, the scale of which is over-whelming as some of these cities are as deep as 25 stories underground.
From here, it’s an easy journey south to Antalya, and the starting point around the southwestern coast to enjoy the many picturesque fishing towns and villages such as Kaş and Fethiye along the way to Ephesus before crossing into Greece. Easiest access around the region is by Dolmus (pronounced dol-moosh). These are regional mini-buses that go great distances at incredibly low costs and are an experience worth description. Starting with the name: it is easy to confuse with the little stuffed grape-leaf wrapped snack and that’s intentional as this four wheeled variety doesn’t leave until they’re stuffed full of people. It’s a confusing, charming, and a totally incomprehensible transportation experience for foreigners.
How it works: you await at a crowded spot on the side of the road that someone has pointed to and indicated as a Dolmus stop. Suddenly a glorified minivan arrives with a sign on the dash with a destination, often one further along the same route. You holler the name of your destination and either the passengers and driver nod their heads to tell you to get on OR they just don’t let you on, the latter means this is not your bus. When you finally get on, and have the good fortune of being a woman, you sit in the front with other women and children or other tourists. To make this system work, there is a great rearranging of seats a la musical chairs as the men move about to give women and tourists front seats. Being a local service, the Dolmus stops every 10 minutes or so, taking longer amounts of time to go short distances exacerbated by the musical chairs depending on the sex of the new passengers. Finally, to prepare to get off, you simply shout your destination or with the help of locals on board, some other unintelligible phrase is shouted in Turkish as you pass money forward to the driver before hopping out. Despite the freneticism, the Turkish people are kind and helpful and the journey goes faster than the Dolmus!
After mastering the Dolmus, it’s to Kuşadası and from here a comfortable ferry ride into Greece. And that’s how we left Turkey.
08/2002