To the Black Sea

It was 6am and I was back in Ankara. And it was cold, something I had not experienced in quite some time. I had just come off of an overnight bus from İstanbul. I had tried to sleep, but you know how it is on a bus. I sluggishly dragged myself through the early morning streets of Ankara back to my old place. As I passed the little shop around the corner from my home, I saw the owner opening up for the day. He did a double take and then waved when he saw me, as if he had thought I was gone forever and was now surprised to see me back.

I still had my key, so I didn’t have to wake anyone. I collapsed onto my bed, and fell asleep.

The reason I was back in Ankara was to get visas. I needed to secure one (Uzbekistan) and apply for a second one (Turkmenistan). My first day, still exhausted after only a few more hours of sleep, I dragged myself downtown. The Uzbek embassy was in a bit of a hard-to-get to neighbourhood, a part of town I had never been before. I realized that I had never really used the Ankara bus system very much when I was here for the past semester. The places I needed to go were all on dolmuş routes, or maybe via metro. The few times I had taken a bus, it had been with a Turkish student who knew exactly what to do, and I just followed blindly. So now I found myself back in a city where I thought everything would be smooth and comfortable and “just like home” and instead I was going through all of the challenges of being a new-comer to a city. Ah well, I’m all about adventures.

I don’t want to bore you with the details of embassy visits, but I will say that it wouldn’t have been possible without the genuine kindness of a local guy. He was a travel agent, at the Uzbek embassy on behalf of a number of his clients (truck drivers), but he stuck around and waited for me to process my visa. I needed to go to a bank to make a payment, and he escorted me there. You couldn’t pay into this account without a Turkish ID number (which seems ridiculous to me) and so he provided his. I thought maybe he had waited just because he needed to go to the bank anyway and might as well help me out. But no, he was even more generous than that – he had no business of his own at the bank, he was simply taking time out of his day and being helpful! It certainly would have been a much less smooth of a process without him, that’s for sure. And so I secured visa number one!

On my way home, I was passing through downtown and was incredibly hungry. Because Kızılay (downtown) is all commercial garbage anyway, and because I had a moment of weakness, and because I had never tried it yet in Turkey, I ate at… Burger King. I confess. Now, the reason this is interesting, though, is because what it showed me about Ramadan. If you’ve been reading other blog posts, you’ll know that by this time, Ramadan was well underway. Most of my insights in previous posts into the way it affected my travels had actually been in hindsight. I didn’t really realize Ramadan was happening around me, even though I knew in theory that it was. Until I came to Ankara. Perhaps because Ankara is such a conservative city, and perhaps because I know Ankara intimately when it’s not Ramadan, but I was suddenly able to see a lot more of the effects on the people. Teahouses and cafes that are usually full all day long were much less so here in Ankara, and I noticed far less smoking and food selling in popular areas like the Kızılay parks.

But anyway, back to Burger King. Even in Ramadan, there was still a steady flow of customers – by all means, not everyone is a practicing Muslim in this country. But what really surprised me, and even shocked me, were the women in headscarves eating hamburgers at a table nearby. This revealed that despite all I have been learning about the Islamic faith, and specifically how it fits into the lives of Turkish people, there are still some big gaps. I know there are some exceptions for who needs to fast – those who are sick or elderly or children do not need to – but from what I could see, these two women, chatting away happily, didn’t fit those criteria. It seems strange to me that they would be practising Muslims as far as the headscarf was concerned, but not as far as observing Ramadan, one of the key tenets of Islam. This raises questions about how much certain practices are, or have become, cultural in Turkey rather than religious. What does the headscarf mean to these women? What does – or doesn’t – Ramadan mean to them?

Back at home, I finally saw my roommates again. I had missed Yasin and Mustafa, they are such good fun. And, lucky for me, they had a surprise planned for me for dinner that evening – together we would share iftar, the Muslim breaking of the fast after dusk during Ramadan. Of course, I wouldn’t actually be breaking a fast (and neither would be Yasin, incidentally, who only fasts at home with his family), but Mustafa would be, and it was a real honour to be invited along for this important meal. During Ramadan, many restaurants prepare a set iftar meal, since with everyone eating at exactly the same time, it would be near impossible to take orders and serve the hungry customers on time. And so this is what we did for iftar, in a neighbourhood restaurant. When we got there, the restaurant was already quite full of people, all sitting anxiously at tables, waiting for dusk. Looking into kitchen, we could see the waiters and cooks frantically serving up and stacking, three dishes high, plates and bowls of identical meals. On the restaurant televisions, the ‘Ramadan coverage’ was playing. ‘Ramadan coverage’ is just my word for it, but during Ramadan many channels have little boxes in the corner of the screen, indicating the time for breaking fast in the various cities of Turkey. Because breaking the fast comes at dusk, not at a particular hour, it changes a little bit depending on geography, and every city across the country (and, naturally, the whole world) thus breaks fast at a different time. The little indicators tell the exact times (ex. Ankara 8:28pm, Bursa 8:30pm, İstanbul 8:31pm, etc.) and then flash in green when that time is reached. We waited, Yasin and I chatting away, but Mustafa quiet, waiting, waiting. Soups and salads were placed in front of us, but still we could not touch it.

Ramadan selfie! Yasin on the left, Mustafa taking the photo on the right.

Finally the screen flashed Ankara time, and at the same time, we heard the muezzin, or call to prayer, outside the restaurant, echoing through the city from a dozen minarets. No one waited any longer – immediately, everyone was eating. We each started by eating a date – this is the traditional way to break the fast, with the sweet, sticky fruit. Then it was dinner much as usual, except with multiple courses. For dessert, we had güllaç, a traditional milk pastry that is generally eaten during Ramadan.

As wonderful as it was to see Yasin and Mustafa again, and to catch up as quickly as possible on all of the news from METU, Ankara, and both of their lives, I didn’t have a lot of time with them. The next morning, I was off to another embassy again, this time to Turkmenistan’s. After a few hours there – smooth enough, though lots of waiting – I got myself back downtown and headed straight for the bus station. That morning, Jess had left İstanbul, headed for the Anatolian town of Safranbolu, just a few hours north of Ankara, and I was to meet her there.

I got picked up at the bus station by our guesthouse, since it’s outside of the town proper, and so I came down into Safranbolu by car, with a great view into the valley and onto the town below. Safranbolu is a picturesque little Anatolian town, and has been listed as a UNESCO World Heritage town for its preserved old Ottoman buildings. It sits in a little river valley, surrounded by high cliffs, and looking down from these - as I did from the car - you can see the rustic old roofs and painted houses.

When I arrived at the guesthouse, Jess was already there, waiting for me. Despite such a short time apart, it was nice to be reunited. We were definitely in a good travel groove, and very used to each other's company. Being apart was like disturbing some sort of balance. 

Our guesthouse was in a beautiful old traditional house, well preserved in the classical style of the town, and our private room was spacious, comfortable, and pretty (and, I think, the most expensive room we paid for the entire time in Turkey). It was late in the afternoon by this time, but we wanted to see the town and so we ventured out. With the sun low in the sky, the buildings were lit up with bright, orangey light. We climbed up a steep road to a small park (there was supposed to be an entrance fee, but somehow we avoided it. Huzzah!), which had a beautiful view over the town in the valley below. With the sunset lighting, the town was breathtaking. Many of the buildings are built with wood frames, shutters, and balconies, and all of them have red tiled roofs. It is thus the quintessential Ottoman town, and each building is unique, a fascinating look back in time. From our vantage point, we could see so many of these little gems below us, it was fantastic. The sunset itself wasn’t overly fantastic, since the sun slipped behind nearby mountains before it could actually set, but the dusky lighting created the perfect atmosphere.

Anatolian houses.

Overlooking the city from above.

Like us, this kitty is looking out over red-roofed Safranbolu.

Traditional Safranbolu homes.

With the little while of daylight we had left, we ventured back into the town and down some little side streets, in search of an interesting mosque at the northwest end of town. We passed children playing on the street, and saw more of the gorgeous houses up close. We came along the edge of a small river, and followed it out of the town. The houses became further apart, and there were now lush gardens and orchards around the homes, giving things a very rural feel. Finally, we came to a bridge crossing the river, and just up the river a few metres from the bridge was the mosque we had come looking for.

It’s an interesting mosque because, for whatever, reason, its builders decided to put it directly over the river. As you can see, the mosque is built on an archway that spans the river itself. And so while we didn’t go inside, one can surmise that when you are praying, you are doing so physically over the river. I have no idea why this is, but I do think it’s kinda cool.

Wandering out towards the edge of town, where things get green and quiet.

The mosque over the river.

The river running below the mosque. Random, eh?

For dinner we ate at a little restaurant on a side street not too far from our guesthouse. The best part of the meal were these delicious, garlicy dolma. Dolma is a dish that stretches from (at least) Greece to Turkey to the Caucasus, through the Arab world. Dolma is rolls made of grape leaves, containing all sorts of things, but usually rice and/or minced meat. These ones here in Safranbolu were incredibly rich, but also incredibly delicious, and I think the best dolma I’ve had anywhere (it helps that I have a very soft spot for garlic – thanks to my Ukrainian genetics, I think), and I’ve had a LOT of dolma over the past few months.

The next morning was a little dreary, with grey clouds hanging over Safranbolu. But there were sights to see, and so we were off nonetheless. We walked up to the regional museum which, like the park from the day before, provides a pretty good view over the whole town. Sadly, the lighting on such an overcast day wasn’t nearly as good for photos.

The regional museum actually has a few components. The first is a big, bright yellow building, which was once the Safranbolu town hall. We didn’t go in, because the fee seemed a little high for what we thought we’d see, but the outside of the majestic building was still quite a sight. Behind the old town hall is a garden of miniature clock towers. Yes, it’s a bit of a strange concept, and I have no idea why it’s located in Safranbolu of all places. But there are a whole bunch of replicas of clock towers from cities all across Turkey, each about a metre high or so. I happen to like clocks, so I actually enjoyed it, but it still seemed strange to me. But it was fun to pick out the İzmir clock tower which we hadn’t seen too long ago, and which is one of my personal favourite clock towers in the world (What’s YOUR favourite clock tower, oh reader?).

Jess does this thing in her blog where she posts embarrassing photos of me. Now it's my turn. No idea what she's doing here, but in the background  is Safranbolu.

Looking across the town at the misty mountains on the other side.

The old Town Hall building.

The clock tower miniatures in the clock tower garden. 

Here's the Izmir clocktower - my favourite!

Behind the clock tower garden is an old jail, which has also been turned into a museum. I paid the entrance fee to go in, but Jess opted out. It was quite small, so fair enough, but still kind of interesting. There were an assortment of old film gear (cameras, those clacky chalkboard that say “Scene 4. Take 3” which they slam down before a scene, rolls of old films) for some reason, and then a collection of artefacts from the region, ranging from traditional costumes to old farm implements from the area. It was all moderately interesting. My favourite part, however, was a little room at the end of the museum, which had a collection of black and white photographs on the walls, depicting daily life in towns in the far east of Turkey. Again, I’m not sure why they are here in Safranbolu – especially since this region is known to be the heart of the Kemalist movement, where nationalists reject the Kurdish claims for autonomy in the eastern cities pictured here – but they were moving and fascinating anyway.

In a room just off the front hallway of the museum, there were some instruments. We're not sure if we were allowed to touch them, but there was no one around to tell us otherwise, so here's just Jess "playing" some traditional instrument.

The back of the old town hall. Really a very pretty building.

We then headed back into the town, in the hopes of visiting the local hamam, the Cinci Hamam. One a dreary day like this one, it seemed like the perfect time to get a nice scrub in a hot sauna. And, to sweeten the deal, the Cinci Hamam is one of the oldest operating hamams in Turkey, and is renowned throughout the country. Just our luck, however, the hamam was closed for the long term for renovations. It was a huge disappointment, and we agreed that it was one of our biggest disappointments of our whole time in Turkey. Life’s not so bad, if that’s the case, is it?

Instead, we ventured around to some of the mosques in town, which were pretty buildings. In one mosque, an imam was teaching a young boy from the Koran, which was an interesting thing to witness, listening to the imam correct pronunciation of the Arabic while the boy tried to read.

In contrast to the quiet studiousness of the first mosque, the second mosque was lively, and even rambunctious. There seemed to have been a class for children – something comparable to Sunday school in church, and they had finished up the lesson. Now, a game of football had broken out, and the young boys ran wildly around the room trying to score. I had never seen a mosque used as a rec centre before, but the man in charge didn’t seem to be concerned (I personally was worried for the glass chandelier), and it made me happy to see the mosque as a symbol of life and vitality and youth and community.

A boy being taught from the Qu'ran in a Safranbolu mosque.

Safranbolu has these little model houses for sale. But there's something particularly special about this display. Can you figure out why I snapped this pic?

A soccer game broke out in the mosque.

Our final Safranbolu wanderings brought us down to the street of metalworkers. Probably in large part due to the UNESCO status of Safranbolu, there are a number of blacksmiths down in a corner of town who work away in traditional methods to make pretty little metalwork items, from jewellery to dishware. It had started to rain a little bit, so escaping into the warm little workshops was a nice respite. One of the vendors was quite friendly and had a little of English, and Jess bought a pretty little dish from him. He was then even able to point us the right way through the town so that we didn’t get lost in the windy little streets.

Another pretty, traditional, old Safranbolu building, with a pretty, traditional, old goat as an inhabitant. He was yelling at us from his window. Can you pick him out?

Having felt like we had seen quite a decent amount of Safranbolu, we picked up our bags and headed out from the little town. We were headed now to the Black Sea coast, which would carry us all along most of the rest of our trip through Turkey until we crossed eventually into Georgia.

We had to transfer buses, which made the trip seem longer than it should of, but late afternoon brought us into the picturesque little harbour town of Amasra. Some people describe it as the Black Sea’s prettiest Turkish town, and I think there is a good argument to be had – the location is great, jutting out into the sea with two harbours – a “large” harbour and a “small” harbour – one on each side, making the town surrounded by water on three sides.

We had no plan for accommodation when we arrived, so when we were approached by an old toothless woman for a room, we happily negotiated a good price, and found ourselves escorted to a pretty little room with a balcony. No waterfront view and no wifi, but still a pretty little apartment. There was even a shared kitchen with the neighbouring rooms, which was a nice touch. We only wanted to spend the one night in Amasra, so we headed out immediately to see what we could of the town.

The overcast clouds that had haunted us in Safranbolu had disappeared somewhere between there and here, and opened up the sky into a beautiful expanse of blue, making this a perfect introduction to our first taste of the Black Sea coast. We walked down to the “large harbour”, which was just a few hundred metres from our apartment, and stared out at the beautiful blue water. We walked out the length of the pier, and enjoyed the relaxingly cool breeze and beautiful sunshine views over the Black Sea. From this vantage point we could also look east along the coast, in the direction we would be heading the next morning. We saw the tall green cliffs that characterize the Turkish Black Sea coast, and which would define the next part of our adventure. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves!

The beach at the "big harbour"

Amasra boats.

Walking out on the jetty, looking east. You can see the characteristic Black Sea cliffs ahead.

We eventually pulled ourselves out of the lull created by late afternoons sitting in salt-water-fresh air, and headed back down the pier to the edge of Amasra’s Zindan Castle. The castle sits on the end of a peninsula, jutting out into the sea, though a short bridge connecting it to the island of Boztepe means that it doesn’t feel like the “end” of the town. Zindan Castle was built by the Byzantines, then appropriated and repaired by the Genoese when they came through in the late 13^th century (astonishing to think! Genoa seems so far from Amasra! But it’s an interesting connection, since Jess and I traveled to Genoa on our first international voyage together, to Italy four whole years ago). We climbed up some steep steps from the waterfront into the castle itself. Zindan Castle is now a residential area, but it has maintained many of its original walls, which cut through the town, oblivious to the growth of modern houses. The narrow, winding streets mean it is still a fascinating place to explore and brush shoulders with locals going about their daily lives.

From the castle, looking down on the harbour.

Cats (so many!) sunbathing in the streets of the castle. Behind them is an old Chapel, dating back to when Christians were the majority in this region.

We watched kids on trikes and old women with bags of produce walking under these ancient arches. Amazing how the old and the new weave together.

One such winding street we found ourselves on brought us downhill towards the water’s edge. We soon found ourselves in a little cove, protected on all sides (not that we needed protection on such a glorious afternoon) except for a little passageway out into the water. There wasn’t any other soul around, and it felt like we had been transported to another world. We had a great view of the north end of Amasra’s bluffs, and out to a little barren island which, if I can interpret the local travel guide’s poor English translations, might have been “Rabbit Island”, named for its ridiculously high rabbit population (no predators, maybe?) – though we didn’t see any rabbits from our spot. We explored the little cove, clambering over rocks, and found a little grove of mulberry trees just outside an old abandoned shack. Lucky us, mulberry season was in full swing, so we picked some from the trees and our mouths exploded with flavour. It felt like we weren’t even in a city.

A little Black Sea cove, all to ourselves.

Rabbit Island, all to ourselves.

Looking up at old Amasra from our cove.

When we wandered back up the hill into the castle again, we crossed Kemere Bridge, which connects the Zindan Castle to the island of Boztepe, which is itself another castle, called the Sormagir Castle. This castle lacks walls, because the high cliffs over the sea protected the town anyway. By walking the southern length of the castle, we were able to get a good view back towards Amasra, sitting pretty on the water’s edge as the sun descended.

Looking back at Amasra proper from Boztepe. Just in the shadows, to the left of the town, you can see Kemere Bridge.

We walked back from Sormagir Castle to the mainland, exiting Zindan Castle again via its historic gateways. Back in town, we had unexciting food for dinner at a local hole in the wall, though stray dogs and ogling locals kept the meal interesting anyway.  We decided to have the regular after-dinner tea at a sea side place instead, and found a delightful little terrace overlooking the water, with a beautiful view of the setting sun. And what a sunset it was. The sky was clear, lit up with gorgeous oranges and pinks, and the waves of the Black Sea crashed up against the wall, showering sprays up into the fading light. It was a truly phenomenal sunset, and I would confidently say it was one of the most beautiful I have seen in my entire life. And it was a fantastic first night on what would be an incredible trip along the coast.

An incredible sunset.

Real Time Update: I’m posting this from Bukhara, Uzbekistan. I’ve been here in Uzbekistan for a week now, having met my friend Cayley up in Nukus on the 2^nd of this month, and we have since traveled south to Khiva, and then to here. It’s fascinating to really, truly be on the Silk Road now, and really be immersing ourselves in the history. I really can’t wait until I can finally share pictures of it! Bukhara, like Khiva, is a fantastic Silk Road city, and one of the major drawcards that brought me to this fascinating country in the first place; exploring it has so far been incredible.