This is the Turkish equivalent of the passeggiata. Crowds come not just for shopping or hanging around for coffee, tea or a drink, but also just to promenade up and down the (mostly) pedestrian-only street. A tram runs the length from Taksim Square at the top down to the funicular that descends under Galata down to within one block of the ferries at Karaköy, Galata Bridge, and the Golden Horn.

The buildings along the avenue are very European and represent Istanbul’s efforts to get modernized when the Ottoman Empire was falling behind and held the nickname “The Sick Man of Europe.” Many of these buildings house restaurants or cafes, and a second-floor perch is a great way to people watch.

The side streets are quiet and labyrinthine during the day. My publisher for The Yogurt Man Cometh, Çitlembik, is down here somewhere and the first several times I tried to find it, I only ended up lost and asking locals who had never heard of the name of the short street. But at night, restaurants and bars spill tables and patrons into the street. Pictured here is Nevizade, an area quite popular with a younger crowd.

The bars in Nevizade and the surrounding area are perfect for some live music, watching an important futbol match (all of them), and having an Efes Pilsner or a glass of rakı.

A shop selling lamps made with mosaic patterns of colored glass.

Turkish ice cream or dondurma is an unusual sort. Made with the powder of orchid bulbs, it is elastic and the vendor routinely plays tricks on the buyer.

Onlookers laugh as this woman gets the full battery of acrobatic/sleight-of-hand pranks you can do with an ice cream cone.  Eventually you get to eat it.

Is there a Romani band in the house??? Not sure where these guys were going in such a hurry, but it was a stitch to see them play on the run. The clarinetist makes a call during the accordion solo. Maybe there was a Romani wedding party somewhere and they needed directions?

Must have been a lovely place to live back in the day. Not far from here is the hotel where Agatha Christie wrote Murder on the Orient Express — Pera Palas. I did a hotel inspection there once and was shown her room. Some day I need to post that story. Funny bunch working there at the time and the place was really worn down, yet you could sense how amazing it once was. You could get in under $100/night in 2006. Then they got a makeover. NOW look how much they want for it. Zowie. I missed my chance.

A few paces off Istiklal Caddesi near the top, almost to Taksim Square is Aya Triyada, a Greek Orthodox Church. Here it is under some surprise snow in Istanbul.

Past the other end of Istiklal and down the hill a bit toward the sea is Galata and Galata Tower. When I first visited back in 1997, there wasn’t much to see here but the tower. Now a bunch of nice cafes and restaurants have sprung up around it and the streets have been cleaned up and made over. Really nice!

Çiçek Pasajı or Flower Passage is the now covered courtyard of a 19th century building. It is now occupied by a lot of seafood restaurants where you point to your fresh catch in the deli counter. It was once a sort of rambunctious place for a drink and a meal, but became very touristy. It certainly has its charm and the food’s decent, but you are definitely overpaying.

Down a side street, Sahne Sokak, which is right next to Çiçek Pasajı, is a short street market. It is called the fish market (Balık Pazar), but there is more here than that. You can buy a popular street snack in Istanbul: fresh steamed mussels. Or get them deep-fried and laid out in a half-loaf of bread. These guys are also selling kokoreç, lamb intestines. An acquired taste I haven’t acquired. I note that the last syllable is pronounced “retch.” I’ll stick with the mussel sandwich (midye sandviç)

There are a couple of churches along Istiklal Caddesi, including this one: the Church of San Antonio di Padua. It’s a nice place for a quiet moment just a few steps off the street.

This might give you some bearings. From a rooftop up above Galata, looking out across the opening of the Golden Horn toward Old Istanbul. Aya Sofya (Hagia Sophia is peaking in on the left and Sultanahmet (the Blue Mosque) is off in the distance. Istiklal off to the right up the hill from Galata Tower.

Read about a stroll down Istiklal and why I love it so much.

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Looking for a car hire in Turkey?

]]> http://www.themadtraveleronline.com/photo-galleries/images-from-independence-street-istanbuls-istiklal-cadessi/feed/ 4 http://www.themadtraveleronline.com/photo-galleries/images-from-independence-street-istanbuls-istiklal-cadessi/ http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/TheMadTravelerOnline/~3/w06CihmRDrU/ http://www.themadtraveleronline.com/photo-galleries/photo-gallery-pamukkale-turkey-the-cotton-castle/#comments Mon, 30 Jan 2012 14:22:31 +0000 Kevin Revolinski http://www.themadtraveleronline.com/?p=1233

Pamukkale means cotton castle in Turkish and the name is fitting for this geological wonder where mineral rich waters tumble down the hillside leaving a gleaming white terrain that looks like frosting on a cake melting in the sun. A glut of hotels and tourism started to mar the beauty of the place and seismic activity even altered the flow of water, threatening the future of Pamukkale. When I lived in Turkey in the 90s we didn’t even bother going, hearing Turks describe it as “not like it used to be.” But the Turkish government have since moved the hotels out and a water rotation system was set up to divert what water continued to flow so that it spread evenly over the site.

Since that time I’ve been twice and it is not to be missed. While the reflecting pools and whitewashed stone are worth the visit, there are also some notable ruins nearby from the city of Hierapolis (founded 190 BCE). Plus, if you stay the night here you can see the pools at sunset or sunrise, something that tours often miss.

Wear sunglasses and plenty of sunscreen. You’ll be getting rays from all directions.

It’s not ALL white. Some of the minerals bring colors. These reminded me a lot of the salt pans of Thailand.

Romans came to this “sacred pool” for healing. Now it is a public thermal soaking area (for a fee) complete with bits of ruins on the bottom.

I always sort of looked dubiously at the labels on those sparkling mineral water bottles that said “bottled at the source” or “natural.” But yes, the water really does come out of the ground fizzy. At the sacred pool here is a place where you can try it. This won’t cost you extra; the cold bottled variety at a couple of vendors in the park will. Bring your own.

Bikinis and risqué dress are pretty common here as the tourists sort of let themselves go. But these two seem to be taking things a bit over the line of improper. I’ve seen tadpoles here on a previous trip. I wonder if there is a connection. Hm. Anyway, watch your step.

Channels have been formed to redirect water each day. By switching them on or off, the park is able to continue the calcium formation though the flow of water isn’t what it once was.

Hierapolis was founded in the second century BCE by the king of Pergamon, King Eumenes II. But you can’t have thermals and not attract Romans. The Roman bath market reached its peak about 400+ years later. You can see a small amphitheater here, a temple for Apollo and a rather well preserved necropolis.

Always be careful around ruins.

Pamukkale is a stop on a lot of bus tours which means it can get crowded. You can get to Pammukale on a day trip from Selcuk and Kusadasi. However, this does limit one’s time at the site. In fact, if you plan to lounge and wade along the mineral-coated cliffs and pools, AND swim in the sacred pool and visit the ruins, you really must come here for the night. It does make a great place to stop for the night on the path between Efes (Ephesus), Selcuk/Kusadasi, and Antalya or other destinations to the east or along the southern coast of Turkey. The bonus of an overnight stay is seeing the pools in the morning light and at sunset.

So it is a great thing indeed to combine one passion with another: music and travel. Here are six great destinations for the rock and roll heart. I’ve been to four of them, but the last two are “On My List.” Got others to add? Leave a comment at the end!

Cleveland

I don’t know that there is a museum around that could keep me so engaged for so long as the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum (read about my experience there). They sell two-day tickets – ‘nuff said. I had to be dragged out. A great microbrewery in town, of course, never hurts (Great Lakes Brewing).

Check out some options for Cleveland hotels.

Memphis

What have you got here? Graceland. Rock and Soul Museum. Sun Studio. Stax Records. A Gibson guitar factory that offers tours. Throw in great food and the live music down on Beale Street and you can’t go wrong. I spent a weekend in Memphis once and realized I hadn’t given myself quite enough time just for the tourist sites let alone the chill time on Beale.

Places to stay in Memphis

Milwaukee

Summerfest! The world’s largest outdoor music festival: 11 days, 11 stages, and truckload of bands. The main stage at Marcus Amphitheater hosts the really big names across several genres of music. The smaller stages start around noon with local and regional acts and work their way up to popular newbies or classic acts. Daily promotions can make the event cheap or free, but even a one-day ticket is only about $12. My favorite shows over the years: Peter Gabriel, Rush, Elvis Costello, Rodrigo and Gabriela, Stanley Clarke. It’s held at the end of June and usually includes the 4th of July with accompanying fireworks.

But Wisconsin was also home to guitar pioneer and virtuoso, Les Paul. Discovery World right along Lake Michigan’s shore between the Summerfest grounds and the amazing Milwaukee Art Museum, has an exhibit dedicated to Les Paul.

A great place to stay near the Summerfest grounds is the fantastic, award-winning Iron Horse Hotel.

Austin

This is truly the Live Music Capital of the World. When I was there I counted over 200 live venues in the weekly entertainment paper. Many of those venues also serve some great food (here’s my roundup of great Austin food and music combos plus my Austin video) Best time to go is during SXSW – South by Southwest, the awesome music and film festival, held in March (March 9-18).

Check out Agoda for Austin hotels.

My Wish List:

Liverpool

I never cease to be amazed by what the four lads from Liverpool did in such a short period of time, and then added during their solo careers. This is where all started so it is only fitting that Liverpool is home to The Beatles Story Museum.  Since opening in 1988 it keeps expanding and now includes two locations in town and an audio guide narrated by John Lennon’s sister Julia. And The Cavern Club is not just the classic venue they used to play, but is now three entities including the original club, an added lounge and the pub across the street.

One of these days, I have to get here.

Find hotels in Liverpool

Manchester

photo by discosour

No, not England. Manchester, Tennessee, home of the music and arts festival Bonnaroo. Here’s another music festival that is basically off the scale big. The festival lasts for four days in June each year and brings in a shockingly good and long list of acts spanning a variety of styles. Rolling Stone has sung its praises as the best.

Hotels? Naw. Buy yourself a tent (use the Tent Finder at REI) or rent one there.

Mountains and river valleys, picturesque waterfalls and caves, elephant rides and monkey shows — Kanchanaburi Province, just northwest of Bangkok, has plenty to offer daytrippers and long-travelers alike. But its most famous attraction is a train ride across a dark page in the history book.

The Thailand-Burma Railway is more infamously known as the Death Railway. It originally ran 258 miles (415 km) from Bangkok to Burma. During World War II, the Japanese Empire needed to run supplies to support its troops in Burma, and so the merciless construction program began. The Japanese had already been eyeing this idea in 1939 and the engineers had estimated it to be a five-year project. Work began in June 1942 and was completed October 17, 1943 — a mere sixteen months. By luring thousands and thousands of Asian workers with bogus “dream-job” offers and often simply rounding up village men as far away as what is now Indonesia, the Japanese were able to put together a massive workforce.

The Thailand-Burma Railway Centre, located next to the Kanchanaburi War Cemetery, gives an estimate of 240,000 conscripted laborers including Malays, Tamils, Chinese and Burmese, sometimes with their bewildered families in tow. Their stories often go untold as they were poor and illiterate. But the more than 60,000 prisoners of war who were similarly used as slave labor preserved the horrors of the story.

The terrain was unforgiving. The heat and humidity of the jungle were lethal. Over 600 high bridges and numerous cuts through solid rock had to be undertaken. Everything was done by backbreaking physical labor, and yet there was no rest for the workers. In many cases they would work fourteen hours straight and have a short break for sleep. Food was limited to meager rations of white rice. Dysentery was arguably the norm, and cholera epidemics were frequent. Malaria and beriberi as well as starvation and pure exhaustion also took a toll on laborers. The POWs at least had some doctors in their midst who could attempt to tend to the sick and injured.

The brutality of the Japanese and Korean guards and engineers was intense, especially toward the end when expectations from the military superiors pushed them to finish the project on time. Beatings even unto death were common. By the time the railway was completed, more than 13,000 POWs had died. Geneva Convention rules compelled the Japanese to keep documentation of the movements and fates of these prisoners, but records for Asian workers were scarce. The best estimate is that close to 100,000 of them met their deaths here as well.

Kanchanaburi’s JEATH War Museum — which takes its name from Japan, England, Australia/America, Thailand and Holland, the nations most commonly associated with the railway’s construction — is set up like one of the work camps with a couple watchtowers and bamboo and thatch quarters. Photographs, texts, and a series of sketches and paintings inside reveal the shocking conditions for the workers and the brutality of the Japanese soldiers toward those who disobeyed or simply no longer had the strength to continue working.

Inside the bamboo hall is a long shelf which would have functioned as the sleeping surface. There were no proper toilets and the unsanitary conditions lead to the outbreaks of cholera. Near the exit is a surprising bronze statue commemorating a former Japanese soldier who had served on the Death Railway project. After the war Takashi Nagase was part of a grave-searching project and was so affected that he became a Buddhist monk and started a peace foundation. (Nagase died in 2011 at the age of 93)

Two local war cemeteries lie in the city of Kanchanaburi where visitors come to pay their respects. The largest holds the remains of around 7,000 men. But a visit to this historical site is not complete without a ride on the rails.

Starting from Nam Tok station, north of Kanchanaburi, one can see how difficult the construction would have been even without the harsh working conditions. The line passes along rocky cliffs at many points on tall trestles. The current train passes over the longest of them, Wampo Viaduct, which winds along, high above the Kwae Noi River. Today’s riders dangle out the windows with their cameras and look over 100 feet down to where workers had to begin raising wood beams up the cliff face.

Rock outcroppings and mountains had to be cut through by hand as well. At Hellfire Pass men worked through the night by the light of torches wielding sledge hammers and large chisels. Dozens were beaten to death during the pass’ construction and in total 700 men died during the three-month effort to carve it. The shadows of the suffering men cast on the rock walls gave the ominous nickname to what was officially known as the Konyu cutting. The rails no longer pass through here but it makes for a good day of hiking and there is another museum nearby dedicated to the site.

The railway is perhaps best known for Bridge 277 made famous by the novel and subsequent film Bridge on the River Kwai. There were actually two bridges crossing what was originally the Mae Khlong River (it is now Kwae Yai, “Big Tributary”). One was built of wood; the other was constructed with steel segments brought by the Japanese from a bridge in Java. Today a remnant of the wooden bridge rests on the river bank within the World War II Museum (which also bears the name JEATH Museum).

Not far away is the steel bridge with much of its original material and repairs done by the Japanese after the war. For visitors who don’t want to take the longer ride along the railway, a small tourist train crosses Bridge 277 frequently throughout the day. But the long lead up, passing over the dizzying views of the Wampo Viaduct and a couple of rocky passes gives a better idea of the enormity of this project.

In the movie story of the bridge, commandoes blow it up. In reality, however, this never happened. Most of the prisoners were sent on to Japan after the railway’s completion. In June 1945, American B-24’s destroyed the steel bridge, but the wooden structure was made operational soon after to continue the Japanese war effort.

Peace has long since returned to the land and there are many alluring natural attractions that bring visitors to Kanchanaburi. But the railway’s combination of human brutality and human endurance creates a story that shouldn’t be missed or forgotten.

Get some travel insurance online — that train ride gets fast in the open stretches. There were moments when passengers were lifted off their seats; a wreck is certain if the tracks don’t see some maintenance someday.

Stop in at a liquor store to pick up some Wisconsin beer and you’ll even find supper club in a bottle. Wisconsin-based Capital Brewery’s Supper Club lager became one of its top sellers as soon as it came out and can be found in most bars and taverns around the state. The motto? The understated Middle American nod of satisfaction: “Not bad.” It got me thinking about the Wisconsin cultural/culinary phenomenon from which it gets its name.

Growing up in central Wisconsin, we didn’t eat lunch at noon and dinner in the evening. It was “dinner” at mid-day and, by gosh, “supper” just before the sun went down. The supper club meant getting uppity without being uppity. Fancy eating tempered by farm-country humility. It is small-town upscale, a high-quality meal without pretension, “Fine Dining” written in neon like a tavern sign — slow food before it was fashionable.

Any irony that the first recorded supper club was in California is put off by the owner’s origin: Lawrence Frank, who opened the first supper club in the 1920s in Beverly Hills, was a Milwaukee native. Supper clubs put a cocktail lounge next to a dining room, brought in a theme and some entertainment, and voila! a trend took off. And then it died. But not in Badgerland. Here it has risen to the level of “institution.”

Supper clubs come in all shapes and sizes, but there are a few aspects that put them all in the same category in the yellow pages.

In small or rural communities the supper club fills a void, the role of a fancy night out, the place for prom dates, wedding parties, special occasions or just the answer to a hankering for a great steak. No one’s putting on airs, but they might put on a nice sweater and some slacks. The menu centers on properly aged steaks and seafood you wouldn’t expect anywhere else in town. A Friday-night fish fry is essential (or a fish boil in Door County). Many supper clubs have been through a couple generations of family ownership; all of them have survived on reputations for good food.

The general lack of taking reservations necessitated a cocktail lounge which opens an hour before the dining room. Diners arrive early for a drink or two and wait at the bar for their table. Even the kids get into it with a Shirley Temple. The iconic drink for the adults, however, is the brandy old-fashioned (sweet or sour) with an orange slice properly muddled.

The atmosphere is often modest; the serving sizes are not. Relish trays – a collection of beets, radishes, carrot and celery sticks, cheese spread and a few olives arranged on a Lazy Susan — often appear at the table automatically, and dinners are the “comes-with” variety, meaning choice of potato, a simple salad with housemade dressing, and/or soup. Back in the golden days the clubs featured dance floors. That element has disappeared in all but a few establishments that do wedding banquets.

Little Bohemia is famous as the supper club where John Dillinger once holed up.

Generally a supper club lies outside of town, along a country road or maybe at a highway intersection. In the beginning this had a lot to do with the fact that the first post-Prohibition liquor licenses went to restaurants outside city limits. It had the additional value of making the restaurant feel more like a destination even if it was only ten minutes down the road. One peculiar common element is they often have no windows. Maybe blocking those familiar surroundings adds to the illusion you’ve actually gone somewhere else.

There are also the occasional supper clubs located in the “big” city. Wisconsin’s larger population centers such as Milwaukee, Green Bay and Madison in many ways still carry that Main Street appeal. Madison has several supper clubs – Delaney’s, Toby’s, The Esquire and the oft-written up Smoky’s Club – but I went right up to the Capitol Square to find the unlikely Tornado Steak House tucked into a side-street in what could have just been another hole-in-the-wall tavern. Its neon signage – “Cocktails” and “Tornado Room” — is visible up the street.

But inside is a throwback to the supper club world. Semi-circular lounge booths face the bar in a dimly lit room. Piped in music, ranging from 1940s crooners to Henry Mancini and John Barry instrumentals, creates a time warp. After a drink in the lounge, I’m taken to my table in one of the separate dining rooms where I find more amber lighting, mounted steer horns, and a couple of prints of a cowboy and a brave riding bareback with his feathered headdress. Service is prompt, professional, and classy, and a decent wine list supplements the superbly concocted cocktails. Or you can just order a bottle of Supper Club beer. Would you like a glass with that? The tables show elegant white linens… with a pragmatic sheet of white butcher paper laid across.

The menu lists all the classics and puts gourmet touches to them: rack of lamb, pork tenderloin, duck breast, surf and turf, venison, rabbit, frog legs – supper clubs are never just a steak house. The relish tray came as a vegetable and olive display like a flower arrangement in a glass, and a small warm loaf of the day’s fresh bread and a slab of butter was a challenge to hold back on.

The hash browns on the side come recommended as do the scallops poached in white wine with heavy cream as an appetizer. I order the day’s housemade soup, corn bisque. After I stuff myself senseless on a Filet au Poivre, a 10-ounce cut of locally raised, grass-fed beef, encrusted with peppercorns and drizzled with a mushroom-cognac sauce, I have little room for dessert. Lawrence Frank was not only the father of supper clubs; he also coined the term “doggie bag.” Come in jeans or come nicely dressed, but definitely come hungry. Not bad at all, I’d say.

Where to Go:

Out in the Country:

Greenwood Supper Club
N9087 County Road A, Fish Creek, WI
920-839-2451
This Door County classic specializes in prime rib and the fish fry brings Lake Michigan fish: fresh perch, whitefish or walleye. Originally a tavern in 1929, Greenwood has been owned by the same family for two generations. The interiors are a look into the past with local murals and custom-made tables and doors.

Little Bohemia Lodge
142 U.S. Route 51, Manitowish Waters, WI
715-543-880
Established in 1929, this supper club now ventures into breakfast and lunch but is best known for its notorious dinner guest John Dillinger, who famously escaped an FBI shootout back in April 1934. People still come for the bullet holes and stay for the broasted chicken. Dillinger’s menu selection was apparently the chicken and ribs. But don’t miss the potato pancakes.

Pinewood Supper Club
1208 Half Moon Lake Dr., Mosinee, WI
715-693-3180
This Central Wisconsin charmer serves hand-cut steaks with a sunset view over Half Moon Lake. Soups, sauces and dressings are made on site. Need something quirky? The restaurant keeps fainting goats to um, recycle all organic waste and fertilize the flower beds.

Urban Supper Clubbing:

Five O’Clock Steakhouse
2416 W. State St., Milwaukee, WI
414-342-3553
Getting national raves for its steaks, the setting still has supper club written all over it. Reservations are, however, necessary. Parking is monitored; a good thing as the neighborhood isn’t the best.

Tornado Steak House
116 S. Hamilton St., Madison, WI
608-256-3570
Seriously, a very nice joint in downtown Madison. Great food and great old fashioneds.

Last summer Cleopatra graced the pages of National Geographic and I was compelled to find the traveling Cleopatra museum exhibit’s nearest stop (Milwaukee!). And as way leads on to way, someone reading my blog post on the matter, recommended the book.

The critical words of Cicero and Octavius, historians such as Plutarch, Dio, Appian, and Josephus – just a few of the sources drawn upon for the book – all have their own takes on the woman and the events that surrounded her. And as everyone writes with their biases and to audiences with their own political inclinations, even what has been written must be judged carefully. Cleopatra has been viewed as a scandalous woman using sex as a weapon to manipulate powerful men who play victims in the story; even some of her contemporaries believed this (as they had to for they were writing for Romans, and how else does one explain how “superior” Roman men end up sharing the wealth and glory with not just a non-Roman, but (gasp) a woman!)

Cleopatra: A Life, however, is a more complex portrait of a clever, powerful woman who reinstates herself as the leader of Egypt after being driven out of Alexandria by her brother, Ptolemy XIII. There’s plenty of plotting, deal making, murder, war, and incestual royal marriages. She was multi-lingual, the first Ptolemaic ruler to actually speak the language of the people she ruled. Some may think of her as the woman who brought the end to the Egyptian empire. But in reality that empire had already come apart, and for her brief life and times as a ruler, Cleopatra brought it back to its glory until its demise at the hands of the Romans. (No small opponent. And even that turning point in history could have gone quite a different direction had Antony been victorious over his rival Octavius.)

Schiff makes it clear what is certain, likely, possible, or simply unknowable. She tells Cleopatra’s story with the pacing and excitement of a plot-driven page turner, and engages the reader with wit and playfulness, a clever turn of phrase, or even an ironic statement or three. This is hard to do as we all know how the story ends. Or we think we do, anyway.

Along the way we also get an enlightening comparison of the Hellenic Egyptian empire and its culture (most notably its attitudes toward and treatment of women) with that of the Romans (the Empire of Testosterone). Plus, the stories of Cleopatra’s two famous Roman consorts get a strong telling.

You don’t have to be a history buff to enjoy a book like this. Schiff is a great storyteller, and Cleopatra is a subject we can’t seem to get enough of.

One of my Favorite Reads of 2011!

Get a copy or download it for Kindle.

Find cheap holiday deals at Travel Supermarket

One nice thing about this book is that it spends a little effort setting up the context. For example, when we reach the Ottoman Period, Tignor gives a couple of pages just on the origins of the Ottomans and their culture before returning to their rule in Egypt and the direct impact on the Egyptian state.

If you are looking for deeper coverage of Ancient Egypt, this may not be the book for you. But the overview of the Old, Middle, and New Kingdoms as well as specific histories and anecdotes of the major players – Ramses, Akhenaton, Hatshepsut, etc. – has got you covered. It will not replace a guide of the features of historical sites. Also, the book was published in 2010 and so the recent Arab Spring is not included (though one see how the modern history of Egypt influenced current events).

Chapter titles and section titles, as well as a good index, also make this a good quick reference if you are not reading it cover to cover while you are traveling.

Tignor taught history at Princeton for 46 years and has written other books on Egypt. His experiences there date back to longer than many of us have been alive. His style is accessible; you won’t need a degree in history, economics, or political science to read this. See the links below for both paper and Kindle versions:
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I am currently at work on a travel narrative based on a trip through Egypt and Syria, using material that wouldn’t have been relevant in The Yogurt Man Cometh. Follow this website to remain up to date on this and other travel stories and photo galleries.

This is just a very short video compilation of various street hawkers along Nanjing Road in Shanghai. I gathered it in about as much time as it will take you to watch it. Notably missing are the prostitutes. Not surprisingly, at the sight of a video camera they scatter like mice when the lights come on. For a Western man walking alone on this busy pedestrian mall, the ladies of Shanghai come running like mosquitoes smelling fresh blood. It doesn’t matter how many people are around — the street may be completely packed with shoppers and tourists — they boldly come forth to proposition. The other vendors are just as pushy and prevalent, except in their case, being in a group of people doesn’t keep them at bay. It’s all a pity because Nanjing Road is lit up with color at night and would make a nice leisurely promenade. Get your photo there and head to The Bund instead (though as that has received a makeover, it too may draw the crowds and hawkers).

For a more extensive video of Shanghai sights and sounds — as well as an amazing noodle maker in action — check out this slightly longer clip.

Check out my blog for more about scams to avoid in Shanghai, China.

A disappointing visit to see the Terra Cotta Army in Xi’an.

I just kept taking the same landscape photo over and over again, as I was left saying Wow each time I put the camera down. Cappadocia makes quite a first impression.

An abandoned stone home in Cappadocia

A view of Goreme town in the distance

The rock that once covered Cappadocia was hard on top and soft underneath, leading to the odd erosion. The tall shafts with the large hard tips at the top are called "fairy chimneys" - but we all know what they really look like. Um... Crayons.

A strange looking tree? Actually, a tree root poking out of the cliff above me far enough to reach the sun.

Uçhisar Hill and Castle offers a commanding view of the region

In the distance, a honeycombed hill turned fortress in Uçhisar; in the foreground a vendor's collection of Nazar Boncuğu, used to protect one from the evil eye.

Turkish ceramics are made in the region. This water pitcher is a Hittite symbol of the sun. Cappadocia was once part of the Bronze-Age Hittite Empire (from about the 1700s to 1100s BCE)

Sunset reflected on high cliffs overlooking Cappadocia with smaller formations already in shadow

Read about my experience in Cappadocia

Just after sunset in Cappadocia

Early Christians were not the first residents of the region (nor the last) but they did create underground cities and many of the homes and churches carved into the stone.

Many of the stone homes were abandoned at the Turkish government's orders in the late 60s when collapses were proving dangerous.

The soft rock near Uçhisar (not far from Goreme) has eroded in smooth formations

The view from the "window" of a hotel carved out of a fairy chimney

Inside one of the cave hotels in Cappadocia

Two kids in Goreme

Buckle Church (Tokali Kilise in Turkish) is the largest of the Goreme Valley churches

The road into Göreme Valley

The Dark Church is one of the Göreme Cave Churches, a UNESCO World Heritage Site in Turkey. Its English nickname explains why the frescoes have retained their vivid color. Once locals kept pigeons here. The resulting mess was removed during restoration.

Christ Pantocrator, an 11th century fresco in the Dark Church (Karanlik Kilise).

A fresco from the Sandal Church (Çarikli Kilise), the Ascension

Another fresco from Sandal Church, named for footprints found in the stone at the entrance.

Another fresco from the Sandal Church

A fresco of Christ in the Sandal Church

Read my article about my experience in Cappadocia

Learn about buying a Turkish carpet or drinking Turkish coffee.

I spent a year in Turkey as a teacher and that experience became the subject of my first book, The Yogurt Man Cometh. Find out more about it here.

Fairy chimneys, they are often called. Spires of soft stone naturally made by wind and rain over the years. A landscape like a mouthful of rotten teeth. Mars. The moon. Certainly not this world. Interspersed amongst small houses and stores were conical outcroppings, ranging in size from a small truck to about three stories high. The uniformity of the shape is what struck me first, but then the details began to emerge. Doorways. Windows. Stairs. Power lines. These were not simply part of the landscape, they were homes, some abandoned, and some still pouring out a warm but eerie light. Our bus stopped briefly and my Turkish friend Merve and I were the only two to get off.

The hotel was two blocks up a gentle hill from the main square of this small town. High walls, closely built homes, and the curving and steep road prevented us from seeing where we were heading. Only a small sign at the bottom of a walled staircase told us we had arrived: Kelebek Pansyon. Butterfly Pension.

We ascended to a patio. “What IS this place?” Three patios of varying levels rested between four towering fairy chimneys. Steps went this way and that and an office and small restaurant sat above and to the right of it all. I opened a wooden door into what in all appearances was a well-lit cave with a full bar. A blond woman in her fifties looked up from behind the bar and smiled. She showed us our room and we stepped down into another cave with two beds in it.

“Tonight this is all we have, but there should be a double bed opening up tomorrow night.” She left us and I flopped down onto a bed, fascinated. An extra third bed rested in an alcove in the wall and everything else was on a hollow hardwood floor made to fit the odd shape of the stone and strewn with rugs.

At a nearby restaurant we ate güveç, a stew—in this case chicken—baked in a small clay pot under a thin layer of cheese. We followed that with a half-liter bottle of a sweet red wine characteristic of the region.

Kelebek Hotel

Merve finished her tea, I grabbed my camera bag, and we headed for the stairs. Göreme Valley, our destination for the day, was just about a mile outside of town and we decided to walk. Along the way a carpet store set up under a tent distracted me for a few moments. Two women wove their wares right there in the midst of the merchandise. Turkey is famous for its fine carpets and a visit to a Turkish carpet shop usually includes a pleasant chat and a cup of tea before the seller even speaks to you of buying.

As we continued down the road, the valley opened up like the land of a fairy tale. I could imagine dwarves and hobbits, dragons and butterflies passing among the trails and staircases that only emerged from their surroundings when we were practically on top of them. As the sun rose, the stone became painfully white. The road passed through the park itself and in the center was a small visitor’s pavilion with restrooms. The first site I ducked into was a church.

See many more photos in my Cappadocia Photo Gallery.

In the fourth century Christians found the desolation and seclusion of Cappadocia fitting for monastic life, and many moved to the area for that purpose. In fact, even into the early twentieth century there were Christians living there. The ceiling rose up twenty feet and the walls were painted in religious frescoes. All the eyes or faces of the figures had been gouged out by Muslim invaders long ago. In the center was an altar, fashioned from the stone of the hill into which it was carved. I looked down into a steep metal staircase that led to a subcavern with more richly colored walls.

I returned to the path outside and Merve and I kept on exploring. We passed in and out of long abandoned dwellings that were nothing more than a few small series of caves and tunnels. Without the extras as we had back at the hotel, they looked cold and foreboding.

Up a steep staircase carved into the rock was the doorway to Karanlık Kilise, the Dark Church, named as such because it was sunk deep into the stone and far from any external light source. But for want of the sun, this place glowed in the most vivid colors I had seen yet. The caverns were low over our heads and too small to hold more than a dozen people. But every inch of the curving walls told a story from the Gospels. The bright human figures were balanced out by a rich blue background full of rivers and hills and geometric designs. I narrated as many of the pictures to Merve as I could.

“The next place is ten kilometers. We can’t walk that. Is there a bus?”

“That will not be necessary. We can hitchhike.”

“Seriously?”

“Tabii. Of course.”

We stood at the edge of Göreme waiting for vehicles heading toward Zelve, our next stop. I felt awkward with my thumb in the air, still effectively conditioned by my mother that only psychopaths—axe murderers and the like—hitchhike or pick up hitchhikers. So I let Merve handle the situation. Fifteen minutes later, a Mercedes slowed down for us, and we stepped up to the window announcing our destination. The two men driving were very friendly and we hopped into the back seat. Our highway hosts were heading past the turn off to Zelve, but insisted on taking us the extra kilometer or so off their course to drop us off directly. Our lira donation was refused absolutely.

We entered another valley that split into two distinct branches. Within each were deep ravines and an assortment of cave-homes. Dusty paths wove among tall dry grass that rustled gently in the breeze. Wild flowers of bright red and electric blue made vivid contrast with the warm but sandy-colored stone. As we ascended the trail we could see out the end of the valley where rich farmland spread toward the horizon occasionally broken by rock formations. I sat in the sun, staring across the ravine, attempting to discern the hidden dwellings in the cliff face. From time to time voices carried on the wind as though from the belly of a beast and moments later a head would emerge like a pigeon from its dwelling high up along a ridge that at first glance hadn’t looked traversable. Merve held up the back of her hand to show me something. I moved closer to observe a ladybug sunning itself on her knuckle.

“They bring good luck here. Do they bring good luck in the United States too?”

“Well, we consider them special, yes.”

I watched her as she watched the tiny creature flex its secret wings and slide away through the tall grass.

We ate lunch just outside the park in a restaurant in a cave. We were alone sitting on dusty seat cushions on the floor next to a low, rickety wooden table. The atmosphere made up for some rather low-grade kebaps and a glass of lumpy ayran, yogurt mixed with water and a bit of salt, which made me cringe after my first and only sip.

Merve apologized. “I’m sorry. I thought it looked fresh.”

On our way out we bought another small bottle of the sweet wine and had the shopkeeper loosen the cork. I packed it away in my camera bag.

We hitched the short ride back toward town, stopping at a village called Çavuşin where we visited the ruins of the Church of St. John the Baptist. A curling ridge half enclosed a tiny farming village and we climbed up chutes, through crawl spaces and through undecorated and roughly hewn rooms until we stood at a precipice. The ruins got smaller every year. As recently as the 1960s people had lived in these caves. But the erosion that created the hills would also destroy them. By the end of the 1960s, several people had been killed by collapsing abodes and the government had forced many to move their families for safety’s sake.

Gül Vadisi or Rose Valley was the last site of the day. We followed a country road through olive orchards and past a cemetery. The graves were on a small rise along the road, and already the sun was dipping behind the headstones the light causing the stony landscape to fill with warmer tones. Unlike the tall spires or the jagged valleys, these rocks were lower to the earth and softly rounded as though made of marshmallow. The marshmallows turned rose and then faded to gray before we walked the rest of the way back to Göreme.

The next day never saw the sun. An intermittent light drizzle kept everything sullen and made getting around a little less pleasant. We found a bus away from the fairy chimneys into rolling farmland to Uçhisar which turned out to be an ordinary Turkish town with only one special feature: its castle. It rose up from the earth like a deformity, like a giant asteroid dropped in the middle of a village on a green hill.

Our bus only passed the edge of town, so we had to meander through the streets to get there. But the sheer size of our goal and the simple one-story houses made navigation easy. When we emerged in the open, the castle was revealed in all its mammoth splendor. This was not what most would expect when they hear the word “castle.” Picture a piece of volcanic rock, a piece of tuff with all its black pores. Now magnify that to the size of a mid-sized high-rise apartment. The massive rock extended out from the steep hillside and rose up much higher than the rest of the town. Inside was a labyrinth of tunnels, a giant honeycomb filled with tourist shops and tourists.

We climbed rock-hewn steps up several flights before the path took us outside and even higher before arriving at the Turkish flag that fluttered above it all. The horizon swept far away in all directions. Here and there a collection of red roofs marked a tiny village or geometric patches delineated crops and vineyards. All I could think of was that it all felt as though it were mine. And in its way, that’s what the little red flag had to say about it. I had a fleeting sense of conquest. All the world lay under my feet right then and there. For a moment I claimed it all. We climbed around as tourists and we snapped our pictures and bought trinkets. We ogled the farmland and giggled through the tunnels as through an amusement park. But this was a fortress. At some point, someone had stood where I was standing and said the same thing with no sense of irony: “Mine.”

We went on to Avanos, a town known for its terra cotta wares. We wandered in and out of artisan shops full of clay pots and Turkish ceramics. We stopped for lunch and shared some delicious lamb and chicken kebabs. But the rainy sky was infectious and it soon sapped our energy. As we jostled along on a shuttle bus back to Göreme, I watched the raindrops slide past the rocky valleys in reverse order, and Merve fell asleep. In the failing light of the day, I could have mistaken it all for a dream.

See many more photos in my Cappadocia Photo Gallery.

Learn about buying a Turkish carpet or drinking Turkish coffee.

I spent a year in Turkey as a teacher and that experience became the subject of my first book, The Yogurt Man Cometh. Find out more about it here.

Places to Stay:

Kelebek Special Cave Hotel
Rooms for two with breakfast start at 40 Euro
Aydinli Mah., Goreme / Nevsehir

See more (and cheaper in some cases) Goreme hotels at my recommended hotel site, Agoda.

Museum Hotel
Stay in rooms carved from the stone without sacrificing luxury.
Doubles starting at 200 Euro
Tekelli Mah.No.1
Uchisar-Nevsehir

More hotel options in Uchisar (using Agoda)

If you are really on the cheap, try Hostelworld: Hostels and Budget Accommodation Worldwide – Book Now!