We stopped in Malaga, Spain, for a day to check out the town after hearing from other travelers that it was a “not-to-be-missed” destination. While this may be true for the more wealthy of travelers, it is not a hot-spot, so to speak, for backpackers. We have had several people comment that we absolutely need to give Malaga a second chance, so I hope we can make it back during our holidays to Spain 2014. With prices in Euros, and the Euro-dollar conversion not in the our favor, we found Malaga to be an exorbitantly expensive town full of cafés, corny souvenir shops and an excess of establishments that catered directly to those disembarking of luxury yachts and cruise ships. On the main drag, several men and women painted their bodies the color of silver or bronze and stood still in various positions, pretending to be monuments. It was interesting to see so many talented people, several musicians, dancers and people in costume. We watched the chaos on main street for a while before heading towards the Picasso museum and exhibit, which we found swamped with tour groups and costing $10 a person for entrance, so we continued to walk around town, simply enjoying the unparalleled architecture of the coastal area.

Castle

We happened upon old town by accident and in the heart of the back alleys, churches and pubs we found Malaga Citadel and castle, which we paid a few Euro to enter. The castle rests atop a hill overlooking the harbor, and offered astonishing views of the town’s center as well. It was built by the invading and conquering Muslims, whose architecture varies from that of the rest of the town, making it a striking piece of architecture. The interior of the castle was recently renovated and looked as if the entire thing has been built only last year. With pools of fresh water cascading down into tiny gutters that ran the length of the walkways, it was as if we were walking inside the Prince of Persia video game, which was set in a Persian castle.

In the harbor we could see a galley ship made of wood and hammered metal and ventured down after our climb through the citadel to have a closer look. It was indeed a very old wooden ship, complete with sails, lockable window hatches and tones of rope. It could have been right out of a pirate movie.

The town was pleasant enough, but expensive and ridiculously clean and organized. After having traveled through Central Asia and the Caucus, the cleanliness and costs of the city were shocking!

If your are looking for a cheap hotel in Malaga, I advise you to check on EasyToBook.com

Since I was a little girl I always dreamed of going to Africa. When we arrived I could not stop repeating in my head, “I can’t believe I’m in Africa!” I was so excited I literally ran through customs and in my rush didn’t even get my passport stamped! No one seemed to care, a small band of three men in red suits played drums and had a hawk sitting on a stick which people were paying to hold or pet. Further down several men in traditional garb were offering camel rides while past that two men blowing into exotic animal skins were making strange and peaceful music. Another man and his companion ran around passing out flowers on the other side of customs while yet more stood around offering cab rides or taxi tours of the city.

We arrived in Tunisia at 7am and quickly walked into town. There was not a lot to see in Tunis itself, but Carthage and the Old Town were several kilometers outside Tunis and transportation costs were extremely outrageous. The taxi drivers by the border were a bit on the untrustworthy side, and they charged in Euro (with a small print 20 Euro per hour sign taped discreetly to the back window). We decided not to take a cab (and buses were not available) to any of the big tourist sites, and opted instead to just enjoy the capital for what it was.

Tunis rests on the Mediterranean, not far from Italy and thus in a prime spot for warm, clean air. The weather was hot and dry by 9am as we strolled through the city’s colorful streets snapping pictures and waving at friendly locals. The number of cats in the city was beyond startling, and rivaled Bulgaria, which also had a preponderance of felines. We walked along the coast watching the early morning fishermen bring in their catch. Many were fishing with nets only, and their return for the morning looked meek. We passed several homes with BMWs parked in the front while along the shore we spotted several women brushing their teeth in the tide.
We walked deeper into town and, although I was feeling a bit ill with a mild case of the flu, decided to just park ourselves on a bench for a while and watch the street activity. A white paneled truck pulled up in front of our spot and began unloading. From our angle it was a ghastly and horrifying sight! The truck had roughly 12 dead cows hanging from hooks drilled into the ceiling, the floor was literally a pool of blood. There were more flies than I have seen in any one place in my life, and when the doors to the truck opened they flew out as if choreographed. The driver got out and grabbed a saw from under his seat, and when he pulled on a leg to begin sawing I felt my stomach do a few cartwheels. This could have been because of the flu, or because I was watching a leg be sawed in half. The passenger nudged a cow’s head (complete with fur, horns and eyeballs and all!) further into the pool of blood and helped the man hold the led as he sawed. While I was watching all this I didn’t notice that a small group of men unloading frozen French-fries out of another truck had stopped to laugh at my horrified expression. When I finally noticed them they were having a hilarious time laughing at me, which was all in good fun.

The smells in Tunis were enough to add to the flu symptoms and the cart wheeling from the massacre in the truck, so after not long at all I decided to call it a day and head back to the room. By 11am it was nearing 90 degrees, and although Mike was insisting it was hot out, I felt extremely cold, which was also a bad sign for my flu being on the rise instead of the fall. Nevertheless, we enjoyed a nice long walk back to the room while Mike hummed various oldies and I snapped pictures of the wonderful blue and white buildings dotting the coast.

We arrived in Bari, on Italy’s southern coast, early in the morning and decided to just walk around the city and absorb as much as possible on foot. It was Sunday, so the town seemed deserted with the exception of the churches. We walked around the old cobblestone alleys snapping pictures of people drying their clothes on lines stretched between the buildings, and waving at friendly people in cafes.

I think of Bari, my first image is of an Italian kingpin gangster in a pinstriped suit complete with a red carnation and a classy black hat. Wherever we turned that Sunday we saw Italian men in this outfit eyeing us skeptically. Every church we went into had a row in the back of the church were several men in these outfits sat whispering to each other while several rows of overdressed women sat before them praying or gazing around the church’s beautiful interior. I couldn’t help but imagine they were all in an international mafia, but perhaps they all just have the same tailor and an affinity for Godfather like clothing.

The churches in Bari are unbelievably beautiful. With ceilings that stretch into the sky, held up by marble pillars and cherubs, beautiful chandeliers, bright paintings and thousands of candles, they are much more awe inspiring than anything I have ever seen.

Bari Castle, on the coast, was a delightful but small structure. The interior was partially under construction so we did not pay to go inside, but enjoyed the exterior. A man with an accordion walked up and down the street playing Italian songs and singing along as people walked in and out of the castle. The structure has withstood a great deal, and although the moat is empty except for a few industrious cats and some litter, looks like it was built yesterday.

We did not have long to spend in Bari, but were delighted with the town, the churches, and the mysteriously suited gentlemen hovering in the churches.

Not at all impressed with Euro-rail as it was the most expensive train, without private cabins, and the lights remained on all night, the fog slowly lifted in the early morning to reveal our slow roll towards the Venetian Islands. As we stepped off the train, a welcome humid breeze met us on the platform, which was in large contrast to the weather we had experienced in the Balkans. Weighed down with our packs, we semi-aimlessly wandered up and over the bridges of Venice and down narrow alleys through which our bags barely fit. When we arrived at the first hotel option we had picked out, we were a little surprised to discover that it was fully booked for the next week.

After receiving a recommendation from the owner, we retraced our exact route back to the train station and headed East. We stopped and asked for a room at every single hotel to find they were either full or wanted 150 Euros ($225) per night. Luckily, we found a place for 60 Euro ($90) – which is by no means, what I consider a bargain and settled in. After unpacking and getting ready to shower for the first time in a few days, I pulled the money I had exchanged at the train station to discover that, unbeknownst to me, we had been charged a 20% service charge for changing $150 to Euros. We should have ended up with 100 Euro, but I only had about 75 in my hand. Furious that Italy would be the first country out of the 19 we had visited to charge a service fee for changing money and losing over 30 USD changing money, I marched all the way back to the train station and demanded that the transaction be voided.
After some arguing she agreed but warned that it would be that way everywhere in Venice – she was right. After all of this, we were free of difficulties for the remainder of our time in Venice. Although Lauren had already been to Venice several years earlier, I had not and found that it lived up to its reputation. It was enjoyable to walk around the streets of the Venetian islands and get lost. In fact, I would wager that it is practically impossible not to get lost in Venice. Even with a map, we got turned around several times. I saw a funny T-shirt that depicted two signs pointing in opposite directions to San Marco Square. It was quite the experience to see all of the old architecture, St. Mark’s Basillica and square – which was mostly under water when we were there, and the gondola owners sing to their customers as they rowed down the hundreds of small waterways going through the city. We sat in cafes, drank coffee and tea, as well as enjoyed a late night Venetian meal – all the things you are supposed to do when in Venice.

We highly recommend going to Venice, but be warned to change your money to Euro before you arrive in Italy. The emergence of the Euro has made the city nearly unaffordable to non-Europeans and we saw very few Americans while we were there. Moreover, we could only really afford to stay there 2 days – which was enough to do and see the main attractions.

We arrived in Ljubljana, Slovenia’s capital, three hours after departing Zagreb, the capital of Croatia. The train was a lovely design with six seats to a cabin with a sliding glass door. We had an extremely friendly Croatian lady in our cabin who was visiting Ljubljana to lay flowers at her family grave plot. The train ride went quickly and the customs officials were extremely efficient and friendly, and we arrived without incident.

Once in Ljubljana, however, things took a nasty turn. The information center at the train station gave us a map and a “good luck!” wave as we walked out the door. It felt a bit odd at the moment but we set off with our bags in the direction indicated on the map towards our hostel. After a grueling walk (our bags now way around 50lbs each) we arrived in the embassy district to discover the map was wrong, and we were now in the outskirts of town without local currency to take a cab or bus, and with no idea where to go. I sat on the ground and took off my bag. A cat jumped out of the bushes next to me and sat on my lap, cheering me up, while Mike consulted the map from the info center and compared it with the already miniscule and incomplete map in the Lonely Planet book. There was nothing to do but attempt to follow main roads until we found signs for old town, and then ask around from there.

The walk was made more humorous by the sheer ridiculousness of it. Mike had his large backpack on his back, which has a red shell on it for waterproofing. On his front he had a smaller backpack that also had a plastic red shell, he looked like a man smashed between two giant ladybugs. I had my pack, and my camera bag and our books in my arms, so that between the two of us we had not one free hand. Perhaps because of our pathetic appearance, we were approached by two travelers who suggested we go to their hostel. Seeing as we had no other option whatsoever, we followed their apt directions and arrived in time to grab two bunk-beds in the 6 man dorm. The dorm had a kitchenette, so we dropped our stuff and went across the river to the shop to grab some fresh veggies to cook with our seemingly endless supply of ramen. Other tenants came and went as we ate, warmed up, and enjoyed the hostel’s atmosphere.

The next morning we walked around Ljubljana in the rain. For us it is hard to imagine any country in Eastern Europe without rain now. We walked up the hill overlooking the city to the Ljubljana Castle, parts of which date from the 15th century. We expected an ancient, Dracula-like castle shrouded in mist and mystery, but were shocked to find a very modern structure that has obviously been erected over the older buildings. In one of the towers there was a modern art exhibit, which was so confusing it left us a bit rattled. There was a chair in the corner which you could sit on while a screen before you showed a spiraling hole, as if you were always falling but never reaching the bottom. Across the tower was a TV showing a play of an old man positioning models to paint them, but never quite getting it right. In the center of the tower was a chandelier which had been lowered all the way to the floor so you were looking down on it. We didn’t stay long in the tower, obviously, but once we mounted the steps in the adjacent building we found another art exhibit full of neon nude women petting various animals. We followed signs to a National Geographic exhibit to find a basement room filled with pictures of animals in yellow frames, rounding the corner we found a circular room filled with lights shaped like worms that glowed just brightly enough to make it extremely creepy. We left the castle after that.

We saw several of the city’s highlight sites, including the dragon bridge and the Franciscan Church, all of which were enjoyable. Our train left at 3:20am. We would arrive in Venice, Italy, at 7am. No matter how we try to resist night transportation, the logic of it always outweighs the discomfort it comes with and we jump right aboard!

Lauren really wanted to go ahead with our plan of 6 capitals in 6 days. Therefore, after our few enjoyable days in Sarajevo, we booked a night-train to leave that same evening. The train station was located right next to the Holiday Inn where journalists from around the world were holed up during the war. The buildings around the train station had not been renovated as well as those in the city center and Old Town. There were bullet holes and shell bursts visible all around.

Night-trains, in our experience, have been really nice cabins with bungalows and you get caught up on a lot of sleep while you save money on accommodation traveling to your next destination. These night-trains easily have been our favorite way to travel. This was a completely different experience. As we walked up to the platform, another train pulled up on the neighboring “paron”. As it came to a stop, a mad dash was made for our train. Lauren and I exchanged a quick look and then dashed toward our train. We have discovered that if the locals do it, there is a pretty good reason for it. What we soon realized was that there were no assigned bunks or seats on the train at all. People were running around opening curtains, cabin doors, and switching lights on and off in search for their preferred cabin.

We found an empty cabin that had no bunks and threw our packs on the chair. Everyone was searching for a semi-empty cabin. We were confused about the situation: Was this it? Would we change trains in the middle of the night? Are there no beds? This was, by far, the most expensive ticket we had purchased yet and it was Euro-rail, which has been said to be the best. The night continued as we laid down on the chairs and tried to sleep. Although no other passengers decided to join us in our cabin, there were several other issues that made this train ride the worst train ride of our entire trip – even worse than the corrupted police train ride from Kazakhstan to Uzbekistan.

We were lucky enough to have heat in our cabin. However, the knob was broken and we were pouring sweat. There was no way to turn it down so we were forced to open a window. Each time we passed through a tunnel, the window would slam shut and then pull all the way open. Moreover, over the course of only 6 hours, we were awakened more than 8 times to have our tickets and passports checked. This was mostly because we exited Bosnia & Herzegovina, entered and exited the Serbian controlled area (SR) in the North of Bosnia & Herzegovina, and then entered Croatia. 45 USD lighter each and 6 sleepless hours later, we arrived in Zagreb, Croatia. Then we found out there was no way to get out of the city! There was only one train for Slovenia, which left in the next 2 hours. We walked with our packs down to the bus station and got the usual tourist runaround just to find out that they didn’t have a single bus that went to Ljubljana, a neighboring capital, only a few hours away. Although the city square and architecture looked beautiful, we only had enough money to each breakfast in Zagreb – after purchasing another overpriced Euro-rail ticket to Ljubljana, the capital of Slovenia.

Our bus ride was somewhat of a highlight as far as nigh transportation goes. We were on the top floor of a double-decker bus, in the very front seats. This gave us an amazing, panoramic view of Serbia as we departed. We were exhausted from sleeping on the train the night before, and walking around the entire day. Once on the bus we stretched out and fell promptly asleep.

I don’t know what time it was when I heard a terrifying sound and awoke with such a start I slipped right out of my bus seat and onto the floor! I looked around but everyone else was sleeping soundly. Just as I climbed back into my seat I heard it again. It sounded like glass shattering, and when I looked up I realized that our double-decker was skidding down a mountain road completely covered in snow and ice! The sound I heard was the sound of ice-covered evergreen branches smacking into the windshield directly above my head!

I sat awake with my face inches from the glass willing the bus not to slide into the ravine on our right, or into the mountain on our left. Apparently intense concentration on a goal like that works, because I lived to tell the harrowing tale. I did not realize that there would be snow in Bosnia & Hercegovina, and the mere sight of it, as beautiful as it was, was a bit of a shock.

We got off the bus at 5:30am and discovered that it had deposited its human cargo at a station 10k from town. At 5:30 not a lot is open, so we could not change our currency. We walked around in the snow and slush and eventually found a place that had an ATM, where we got enough out to last a day. We walked around another half hour before we found the bus stop, and waited another half hour for the bus. By now my shoes, which I bought in China and have been falling apart ever since, were soaked through and my toes were as numb as if they didn’t exist. We sat shivering on the bus as it filled with commuters on their way to work.

We jumped off the bus in Old Town Sarajevo, which showed little signs of earlier conflicts. We had expected a city that was brand new, having been entirely rebuilt since the war, but what we found was a delightful old town with beautiful churches, cobblestone lanes filled with shops and cafes, and a throng of pleasant people bustling about their business. We checked into a hostel for 5 Euro a night and took showers. With two full nights sleeping on buses and trains, and walking in the rain and snow, we were quite a pathetic site to behold! The shower, even on its coldest setting, burned my freezing feet until they adjusted to normal temperatures again. I huddled into several blankets in my bunk until I felt I had defrosted, and then put on nearly every item of clothing in my backpack.

Our first order of business in Sarajevo was to find me a new pair of shoes, preferably something water resistant this time! We walked around Old Town, which was full of designer clothing and brand-named goodies, but nothing in our price range. At the river, however, we found a second-hand store where a friendly local lady helped me try on several pairs of winter shoes. I eventually settled on a pair and we went back to the hostel so I could change into dry shoes. Just in case they were penetrated with snow or slush, I put plastic bags on over my socks to keep my poor feet dry.

Sarajevo was my favorite city since leaving Shanghai. It was beautiful, the locals were friendly and helpful, and it had all the efficiencies of the western world. The river that bisects the city gives it an old fashioned feel while the modernity of the shops makes you remember you are in the 21st century.

The history of the city is still alive. The bridge corner where the Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated is well preserved, and a museum to the moment has been erected on the corner showing a film recreation of the exact moment Gavrilo Princip stepped out of the crowd and shot the Archduke and his wife.

We left Sarajevo after two days of restful enjoyment and ongoing history lessons, and wished we could have stayed longer if time and money had permitted.

We took the night train from Sofia, Bulgaria, to the Serbian capital, Belgrade. We arrived before the city had fully awakened at 6am and had to wait for the luggage storage room to open at the train station before we could stash our bags, change our Bulgarian currency into Serbian cash, and have a quaint, train station breakfast. It was raining when we arrived and, in Mike’s words, “this is exactly what I thought Eastern Europe would look like, rain and all!”

We set off towards Old Town with a general plan of just walking around until we spotted something of interest. The rain came down heavier and heavier until the town was shrouded in a grey haze. In old town we set our sights on the Kalemegdan Citadel, which has withstood some 115 battles over the past 2300 years. As a direct result, the city itself has been razed to the ground over 40 times. Today the interior of the citadel no longer houses terrified people, but a lovely park complete with modern art and extensive seating. It looks out over the junction of the Danube and Sava rivers, which explains why it was such a contested area in antiquity. We stumbled upon the citadel’s military museum and decided to venture inside.
The military museum was a bit confusing since nothing was in English, but it did beautifully outline the entire history of former Yugoslavia in metal recreations of armor, wooden ships and uniforms. After walking through the maze of artifacts for over an hour, we came across the “modern era” section which included bits of an American stealth fighter shot down in 1999, complete with the captured pilot’s uniform and tactical gear, as well as a dangerous amount of weaponry. Outside the museum there was a row of brightly painted tanks, exploded ordinance, and cannons. Some of the military equipment was apparently very rare, and extremely overused, giving the citadel a sad and somber feeling.

We walked back into Old Town to find the national museum, but it was under construction so we wandered around the downtown alleys looking at the elegant shops and busy cafes. Belgrade’s bohemian street, once known for its relaxing and low-key atmosphere, is now a busy cobblestone lane stocked full of tourist trap T-shirts, overpriced pubs and quaint but expensive eateries. We slipped across the cobblestones in the downpour and walked around Old Town for several hours before heading to the train station.

There was no train Sarajevo, so we found a bus that would leave a bit later in the night. We bought bus tickets for the night bus, something we swore we would stop doing since it was exhausting. Nevertheless, traveling by night means at least we are not spending money on accommodation for the day! We ate dinner in town and walked around in the rain snapping pictures of bombed-out buildings that had been left as monuments to former wars, and gazing at the beautiful architecture of the city. As the sky turned dark we returned to the bus station and were amazed to discover we would be on a double-decker bus to Sarajevo, and our seats were on the top, in the very front row!

We spent a day in Plovdiv walking around and admired the Old Town. Luckily, we met a couple from Australia who were on a honeymoon-backpacking trip, which was interesting in itself, and they had a guidebook specifically on Bulgaria. Matt and Lauren perused through the “around Plovdiv” section and discovered several things that were not even in our guide. We decided to go to a Monastery that was only about a 40-minute bus ride away. Once we announced that we were going, we ended up with a whole group of people interested in seeing the Monastery.

The next morning we got up late and left even later after gathering everyone together. We took the long way to the bus station and walked around the alleys of Plovdiv for a good 30 to 40 minutes before we arrived at the bus station. It didn’t take long and we found the bus to the Backhovo Monastery for a pleasant ride South. We played 3-person cribbage and I, of course, lost again on the way to the old Orthodox site. Once we arrived, it was only a short walk up the hill and we were already at the church. There were several Orthodox clergy walking around the grounds. We had all been told that it was possible to stay (sleep) in the monastery so we were all carrying our packs along with us. Unfortunately, no one was really willing to put us up inside or out, and they directed us to a hotel towards the bottom of the hill.

The monastery was nothing special and looked just like all the other Orthodox churches we had seen; The exception being the surrounding building, which looked like lodging for a large number of worshipers / clergy. After looking around, we all got really hungry and returned to the foot of the hill for a quick lunch. The honeymooners decided to head back to Plovdiv. They looked pretty disappointed with the excursion when they left. However, Matt, Lauren, another traveler – Tim, and I decided to start up the modest hiking trail. The monastery had been slightly disappointing so we ascended with lowered expectations.

Camping Intruder

We saw a few other buildings, which were closed down for the season, and continued to hike past obvious camping grounds that had signs NO CAMPING everywhere. Several hundred meters father, we came to a huge clearing that was amazing. The leaves were just starting to change, and we found ourselves in the middle of a vast field, flanked by mountainous treed hills. After admiring the view, we were all invigorated to go on. Next, we came across an Orthodox pilgrimage site up the hill. It was a tiny chapel surrounded by massive Tim Burton – esc trees. There was a pool, feed by a natural spring in the middle of the chapel. The whole experience was becoming a little surreal, after the ordinary morning, we had all experienced.

Farther up the hill we came upon another small wooden chapel built on the side of a cliff and beyond that, yet another church at the top. The inside of the church had beautiful frescoes and paintings, as did the other chapels. Perhaps I appreciated this more because I had been in China and Central Asia so long, but it seemed to me that the church and chapel were buried in a very dense forest. After months in the deserts, we shared great moments of happiness walking through the forest paths.

Tim, although impressed with the location, was in no position to camp – as he had intended to stay at the monastery overnight. After a quick warning about how cold it was about to get, Tim departed to catch the last bus back to Plovdiv. Lauren, Matt and I stayed and we immediately got to work. Lauren set up a campsite, then kicked up her feet while Matt and I collected firewood for the next hour and a half. After collecting enough firewood, we got ready for the fire, waited for dark, and then started up the fire. Luckily, Matt brought a water purifier, so we went to a nearby waterfall and purified some water for cooking. We all sat happily around the fire, which burned for the remainder of the night – fortunate because it was really cold compared to the nice weather we were used to while in Turkey.

We decided to take the night train from Istanbul at 10:00pm across the western boards to Bulgaria. We planned to disembark before Sofia in Bulgaria’s most relaxed city, Plovdiv. The train pulled into the station in Istanbul an hour early and we began to panic a bit at the sight of the metal beast. It was covered from head to tail in graffiti and the conductor was hanging onto the outside of the train, with his right arm reaching into the train presumably to steer. We immediately had a flash back to the horror we experienced on the Kazakh trains that looked equally rusty.

Nevertheless, we loaded ourselves into our compartment. We had spent a bit extra for a sleeper cabin for the three of us, so we were thrilled about the train ride. We talked with the cabin attendant, who ended up being the nicest person we’d met in recent weeks, and he helped us get settled in. Our cabin had three bunks, a small table, and a door to block out all outside sounds. It was perfect, the cabin attendant wasn’t corrupt, and the train left exactly on time. What more could one ask for?

We played cribbage for a few hours and drank a bit of the Cpt. Morgan I had received for my birthday a few weeks earlier. When the tracks began to deteriorate and the clock struck midnight we decided to crash for the evening and I scampered up an unstable ladder to the top bunk.

I woke up at 5am with a start realizing we were not moving. The cabin attendant came into the room and told us we were at the Bulgarian border, and to leave all of our belongings and follow the crowd to customs and border check. This was the first time that we had been asked to disembark from the train for customs, and we were a bit hesitant to just leave our belongings in the cabin. Without other options, however, we grabbed our passports and stood in line to receive a big blue stamp in our passport. “You have now exited Turkey”

I fell back asleep in the top bunk almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. I knew we had to be awake in ten minutes to go through Bulgarian customs and border control, but it was impossible to stay awake. I woke up with my arm outstretched and a Bulgarian military man grabbing the passport that was still in my clutches as I slept. He smiled and stamped the page and put the passport back in my hand. I stuck it under my pillow and was asleep again before he got the cabin door shut.

We arrived in Plovdiv by 11am and since we had no Bulgarian Leva to walk to Old Town to find our hostel. We got lost a few times in the winding, cobblestone streets and I got to try out my Russian again after a month of hiatus to ask how to get to Old Town. We found it after a long, grueling walk with our packs and were overjoyed at the atmosphere at the hiker’s hostel. People were milling around, playing cards, reading and just chatting. We dropped our stuff and started chatting with people to hear their adventures. It turned out one of the guys in the hostel (who had also been on the night train) was in Cappadocia with us a few weeks prior. Small (traveler’s) world. We settled in to enjoy a relaxing day and see the town in the afternoon.

Bosphorus River Cruise

We jumped on an early tram and made our way down to the port the following morning. We arrived just in time as a huge line had already formed for the ferry. The Bosphorus ferry cruise offered a nice affordable day trip for only 20 TL (return ticket). The Bosphorus is a narrow strait where the Mediterranean Sea meets the Black Sea. Initially we were all agitated at how packed the cruise was for October during what we believed to be off-season. Regardless, it quickly accelerated and made several stops through the Sea of Marmaris on the way to the Bosphorus strait.

After passing the Sultan’s Palace, we saw some amazing architecture along the European side of the strait. Monstrous castles and fortresses stood testament to Istanbul’s long history of the clash of religions, cultures, and wars. Each of the fortresses we passed was constructed during one of the Crusades when Istanbul was under siege. One of the most impressive had been constructed in as little as 9 months. The ferry slowly emptied as we drew closer to the Bosphorus. We pulled up and docked at a small coastal town and were immediately not amused with the this destination.

However, as we made our way outside the town and hiked up toward a fort on the hill, the fort opened up to the huge expanse of the Bosphorus. All apprehension and feelings of disappointment about the day disappeared. It was the best view of the whole strait. One of us ran down the hill and bought some beer, while I set up our Esbit stove and started to cook our lunch. We heated up a few pots of water and made noodles. It turned out to be a really enjoyable experience as we shared a few drinks, passed the pot of noodles around, and admired the Bosphorus – which was truly a sight worth seeing. The ferry ride back was much more relaxed and we all took a nap on the 1 hour 20 minute ride back to Istanbul.

Shopping

Having arrived in Istanbul at 11:00pm, we were a little out of luck for transportation. We waited for the Metro and then took the trolley and after a long walk ended up in old town, where we were covered in sweat from hauling our 50lb packs all over town. We checked into the Sultan Hostel and crashed in the 30 bed dorm, which was full of the sounds of people sleeping on the inside, and people partying and drinking on the outside.

In the morning, we all awoke at 5am and bolted out of bed to the loudest call to prayer. The Aya Sofyia and the Blue Mosque, as well as countless smaller mosques in the area, all sounded off at different times between 5 and 6:00am, ensuring no one could stay asleep. We got out of bed and tiredly ate breakfast and planned out our day. We walked around and looked at the mosques, although a bit grumpily considering the wake up they had given us. In the afternoon we toured the Spice Bazaar and the Grand Bazaar, both of which far exceed their reputations. They were full of people screaming, “welcome to Istanbul, where are you from, friend?!” and trying to sell us anything from carpets to T-shirts to bananas to live leeches that clean your dirty infidel blood.

We had kebabs for every meal in Istanbul, so we grabbed a few for lunch near the Bazaar and walked around the Hippodrome and the Cistern before exploring Old Town’s back alleys and quaint little village-like streets. The day flew by quickly, as did the following day while we did laundry in the hostel, wrote in our journals and lazed around on the roof-top terrace overlooking the straights.

The next day we did a tour of the Palace overlooking the straights, which was unbelievably beautiful. However, we saw a few artifacts in the “treasury” that were a bit questionable. A hair from Muhammad’s beard, as well as one of his teeth. A sword from the prophet Daniel, and an arm (encased in gold) from the prophet John. Also swords from various other prophets (whom I didn’t know were armed) and various artifacts from the dome of the rock (which I didn’t know was that small) and a sundry other things that left us shaking our heads in wonderment and disbelief. We walked out and turned to one another and laughed. The highlight had been the staff of Moses, made of wood, that has somehow survived to this day. We probably missed out, but we skipped the harem, which they were charging an extra 15TL to see.

Our first few days in Istanbul were magical and flew by quickly, but it had been a while since we had been in a city, and we were shocked by the amount of people in the city and the craziness of the traffic.

ANZAC graves

After a restful night, we awoke early to talk with the manager of the hostel about the package tours to Gallipoli and Troy. We were shocked at the ridiculous prices and decided to do the trips on our own, which was more our style. We took the public ferry bus from Chanonkale to the European bank and then negotiated with a taxi driver for a tour of several battle and grave sites for 45TL. Our first stop was the ANZAC museum, which contained a minimal amount of information but a ton of pictures and strange war artifacts like bullet casings that show another bullet hole in it, meaning two bullets collided in the air. That makes me imagine the air was just darkened with bullets all the time. We also saw shoes with the foot bone still in them, covered with barnacles, which made me sad because it means the person was never properly buried.

After the museum we went to see the beach cemetery, where John Simpson’s grave is. The architect of the cemeteries made interesting choices in where he places headstones. In the museum we noticed that most graves were haphazard, at best. So, the new architecture is simply symbolic. All of the sites were moving and tranquil; with 31 cemetery sites on the Gallipoli peninsula, there was a lot of sadness to go around. A jolly puppy jumped up to us at the last of the grave sites to cheer us up and put our spirits a bit more in order before we boarded the taxi back to the ferry.

The next morning we added up how much money we had saved by going solo instead of with a tour, and decided to do the same thing again when seeing Troy. We checked out of the hostel and stored our bags there before catching a minibus to Troy for 4TL. Troy itself leaves much to the imagination. The ruins are in such an extreme state of disarray that it is hard to tell what used to be a wall, and what used to be just a pile of rocks outside the wall. Troy, also, was rebuilt so many times that there are ruins all over the place on top of each other, so that different eras are displayed somewhat like strata when you cut into the earth. The site is only partially excavated, and we’re wondering what they are waiting for.

The giant recreation of the Trojan horse is farcical, and only shows how much the town has been hyped above realism. Troy was a small citadel, with short walls, but ingenious placement. The wooden horse inside the ticket office is easily 30 feet tall, which would have been higher than the city walls, and its width would have exceeded that of the main city gate. A more accurate portrayal of the horse, the one from the movie Troy with Brad Pitt, was sitting in a nearby town.

After Troy, we caught a 4TL minibus back to town and then caught the first bus to Istanbul, which would put us in town by midnight.

Us infront of the Library in Ephesus

After posing ridiculously on all of the old ruins and monuments we could find in the three ancient cities and camping for the night, we woke up to the sound of an alarm at 6:00 AM so we could get the rental car back in time.  I had lost miserably at every game of cribbage the night before, so Lauren and Matt were in extraordinarily high spirits the next morning.  We quickly broke down the tent, lit an Esbit, and heated some water for an awesome breakfast of instant oatmeal (thanks Matt + Mom) – which really hit the spot.  It was fairly easy navigating our way out of the city and back toward Ephesus.

On the way we stopped at the alleged home of the Virgin Mary, which was on a hilltop just outside Ephesus.  After driving up the passage, we discovered a very steep entry fee and couldn’t really justify paying the Turkish government that much to see what has only been verified by the Vatican and a German lady’s dream.  A little bummed, we descended and drove back towards town and dropped the car off.  We bought our bus tickets for Cannakale, stored our backpacks at the bus station, and walked 3 km down the road towards ancient Ephesus.  Our only slight disappointment about the Virgin Mary’s house quickly diminished as we entered Ephesus.  Unlike all the other ruins we saw, Ephesus was packed with tourists.  It was amazing as we walked down the magnificent marble streets, weathered by time and tread, to see it bustling with people.

We found that Ephesus was not in ruin at all!  Millions of people come here every year from all over the world.  Most impressive was the Great Library of Ephesus, which the Germans kindly rebuilt the front to its former glory.  The amphitheater was also a big hit, seating over 20,000 people.  We saw road markers, with the text marked in red, commissioned by Caesar Augustus. Ephesus is a must see, but the other less toured ruins should not be missed.  It was nice to have this dichotomy of empty and packed ruins as it helps connect past and present together.  After several hours in Ephesus and witnessing a gladiator reenactment, we got on our bus to Cannakale.  Ephesus was a great experience for us as well as for all the other people there, many of them senior citizens.  I heard on old lady say with a tear in her eye, “I have wanted to come here my entire life, and now I can’t believe my eyes.”

Ancient Pillars

Priene, Miletus and Didyma are three rather impressive ruins along the Aegean Coast that are smaller than Ephesus, but were important pilgrimage or economic sites in their day. We decided to rent a car from Selcuk and drive to all three of the ancient cities for a tour of the ancient world. Since neither Mike or I had driven in quite some time (and the rental car was a manual) Matt took the helm and Mike acted as navigator as I schemed on how best to see all the sites in one day.

Our first stop was Didyma, which was an hour and a half drive from Selcuk, counting the ridiculous detour through Soke (the town we were stuck in on our night-bus nightmare earlier that week). Didyma is the site of the Ancient Temple of Apollo, which missed out on being one of the seven wonders of the ancient world to the Temple of Artemis by a mere seven columns. We found this site much more impressive than the other because of what remains intact.

Our second stop was Militus, which was an ancient ruin of a theatre. It was a full three stories with a later era citadel atop the theatre. Caves wove in and out of the stadium carrying people to various levels. Like modern arenas, they had letters and numbers carved into the seats for their tickets. The ruin was impressive enough, but behind it was a hammam built by Marcus Aurillius’ wife, which was largely intact and impeccably built.

Our third stop was Priene, a hill-top city visited by Alexander the Great. The large Temple to Athena on the top was still standing in places, and the view of the valley (which used to be under water) was astonishing. We jumped from rock to pillar and played in the ancient arena before descending and driving to our camping spot for the night in a town near Selcuk, where we planned on returning the car by 10:00am the following morning. We had pizza and walked along the coast chatting about the ruins we had seen, and how amazingly lucky we were to have seen them. In twenty more years all of these sites might be under glass, or roped off with chains. This was easily one of the best days of the trip, and we were in high spirits as we played cribbage in the tent that evening . We all fell asleep wondering what Ephesus would possibly be like, since we would be seeing it in the morning.

Lauren in a bus

Although we had made a pact never to take another night bus, we found ourselves booked on the 12:30pm bus from Fethiye to Aydan, where we would connect with a mini bus at 4:30am to Selcuk, which is 3k from Ephesus. Things did not go at all according to plan. We attempted to catch a wink at the hostel in Fethiye before the 12:30 bus, so we set up our sleeping bags on a bench on the hostel’s patio. Apparently that particular street is a major racing artery in town, and rap-blaring convertibles laden with hip-hop impersonators were roaring past at maximum volume.

Needless to say, we hardly slept. We got on a mini bus from the hostel to the otogar (bus station) where we boarded our large, luxurious and pleasant bus to Aydan, 4 hours away. We slept well, but 4:30am came too soon and we found ourselves wiping away sleep from our eyes at the otogar. There were no buses in sight- anywhere. The connecting bus we had been told would be there was nowhere in sight.

We waited in the lobby for a while as cockroaches scurried about their business, and by 5:30 we heard the call to prayer and found a mini bus driver who would take us to Selcuk. I fell asleep on this minibus, and woke up in Soke. Apparently we had been duped. The driver took our money for the ride and left, leaving us once again feeling miserably tired and confused. It was 7:00. We got another minibus to Selcuk, this time going in the right direction, and we arrived in town by 8:30. We were harassed from all sides in Selcuk by vendors, bus operators and hostel owners. One particular gentleman stood out as more our age, so he drove us to his hostel on the hill overlooking town. No more night buses! We put our hands into a circle and reaffirmed the pact we had made after the crisis to Olympos on the first Turkish night bus.

Now situated comfortably in Selcuk we surveyed the surrounding area. We geared up for a long day and set off to see the Temple of Artemis and St. John’s Basilica. The Temple of Artemis is one of the seven wonders of the ancient world. It was, at one point, the largest such structure in the world with 127 columns that stretched high into the sky. Today there is only one column left with a giant stork’s nest resting on top. There is little around the ruin except a swamp full of ducks and a few peddlers selling statues of Artemis.

The nearby St. John’s Basilica is more impressive. St. John (the disciple) visited Ephesus twice, and wrote his gospel while sitting atop Ayasuluk Hill, which is in modern day Selcuk. His remains rest nearby. After Christianity was no longer persecuted by the Romans, Emperor Justinian had a church built atop St. John’s tomb. What remains today is rather confusing, since signs on the grounds say the body of the disciple was long ago removed. The church and surrounding area is little more than rubble with support columns standing haphazardly. The view, however, is astonishing, and I can see why John decided to write from that spot.

In the background at the base of the hill is an impressive mosque built in 1375 after the Seljuks lost control of the region. Behind the mosque and overlooking St. John’s Basilica is the even more impressive Byzantine citadel, which looks largely intact. It was closed due to restoration work on the interior complex, but the outside offered an amazing view of the city walls and buttresses.

After visiting these impressive historical sites we walked back to the hostel and took a nap, then had a nice dinner in the downtown area. We decided to sit at one of the many roadside tea houses after dinner and play a game of Rummikube. Five elderly men sat with us and taught us how to play, and were so friendly that we stayed quite a while enjoying their company before retiring for the night.

Coast

We arrived in Fethiye and were immediately hit by how relaxed the city seemed. Boats lined the coast, which was on a steep hill overlooking the water. A castle sat lazily on the top of the hill, and beautifully preserved stone crypts dotted the hillsides. There was a lovely ruined arena in the center of town, although a bit covered in spray paint.

We walked around the town, which was full of friendly folks trying to sell us anything from T-shirts to clothing to their stray cats. We found a cheap place owned by a guy who had spent years in St.Paul, Minnesota. Small world. We enjoyed the entire day in Fethiye and even pondered coming back to this city once we were done traveling as a possible place to live for a while.

Once settled into our hostel, we decided to book a short, day-long cruise around the coast. We hopped on a boat leaving at 10:30 the next morning and spent the entire day on the boat. Our first stop on the 12 Islands Cruise was to a small Island covered in goats, but otherwise uninhabited. We jumped off the front of the boat and into the clear, blue Mediterranean water.

The entire cruise had cost 19 TL a person, which we thought was a phenomenal deal considering it included lunch. We stopped at a second scenic island where we all cooled off again in the bright water before rinsing off and sun bathing on deck. Two more stops followed, including one to a large island where we all hiked up into the mountain and looked straight down into the water, which was so clear you could see deep into its depths.

The cruise returned to Fethiye around 5pm and we spent the afternoon packing and preparing to move up the coast towards Ephesus.

Matt Exploring

We experienced a taste of what hell must be like on the overnight bus from Cappadocia to Olympos. What was supposed to be an 11 hour ride turned into a 14 hour ordeal that resulted in three grumpy backpackers sitting on a pile of their bags looking out over the Mediterranean. We all jumped into the Sea, and after a few minutes of splashing around we were jolly again, though extremely tired.

Since it was my birthday the next day, Mike and Matt gave me my first present—a bottle of Capitan Morgan Black. We sat on the beach, with all of our bags, and sipped the sweet rum as we watched the waves crash against the rocky shore.
We checked into the Turkmen Backpacker’s Tree house complex along the main road to the Sea, and quickly decided to forego the much-needed nap and head back towards the beach, where we had seen ruins poking out of the jungle that was threatening to take over. We hiked for several hours through dense jungle, all of us in flip-flops and our swim suits, to discover random piles of unmarked ruins, small rooms and crypts and unmarked (or unfound) towers and Hellenistic walls. Some of the hike was vertical, requiring focus and strength, two things the sleepless night before had robbed us of. Nevertheless, we made it to the summit of a large hill, which was covered in ruins of a castle. We were alone in the jungle the entire day, and atop the summit we all felt like Indiana Jones.

We had spotted two water caves while swimming, but knew we could not make it out to see them via the Sea. While on the summit we found the opening of one of the caves and Matt and Mike took turns threatening to climb down a vine into the cave while I hiked around the cave to look for a practical way in. None was found and eventually our rumbling tummies had us turn back to the hostel.

The next morning we awoke early and after eating breakfast (and our breakfast beers) we jumped in the Ocean. Mike swam for the Sea Caves that were too far away to get to, and made it. Matt and I watched his progress and marveled. He disappeared into the waves for so long we got extremely worried and hiked back towards the castle hill to call down to him in the cave. When we got there, we heard no reply from poor Mike, so we stashed our bags in the thicket and proceeded to climb along the rock face that protected the castle from the Sea. It was a hard climb, and our hands and feet were cut on the sharp rocks, but we made it all the way to the cave and found no sign of Mike.

Matt headed back to see if he had passed us swimming back to shore while we had been climbing, I proceeded to climb as far down the rock face as possible to see more of the cave in case he was exploring inside. Suddenly, Mike’s head emerged from the water with a big smile and a startled wave when he saw me clinging to the side of the rock-face. After a bit of debate on whether or not I could climb back up, I took off my dress and glasses and, now in my swimsuit, jumped from the rocks into the Sea below!

The sea closed over me and I was shocked by the coldness of it. Matt dropped his shirt and jumped from the rocks into the sea next to us. We all swam into the cave and explored the various rocks and reefs. We swam to the next cave and did likewise before swimming back to the rocks where we had left our clothing. I was wearing the only goggles when I came up panting for air and pointing. A man in all black with a harpoon gun had just swam by not ten feet from us, his expression as shocked as ours at where we were running into someone else. I’m sure he wondered how we got out that far without scuba gear.

Mike swam back (he is like a fish in the water) and Matt and I climbed the rock face and hiked through the jungle back to the beach. We ate a quick lunch and then decided to hike into the jungle further down the beach to explore the ruins there. We scaled another hill and crawled down an old aqueduct, even spotting one rather large (4ft) snake slither into the thicket. The ruins were amazing, and open crypts dotted the hillside.

After dinner that evening we took my camera and decided to climb into the jungle to take night shots of the crypts.

Mike had just finished reading Dracula, and made the experience more interesting by scaring the living hell out of us as we hiked into the deep woods. Noises you only hear in horror films engulfed us and we shivered a bit from the awkwardness of being around smooched crypts at night. Matt put my flashlight inside a crypt and I snapped a shot of it glowing from the inside out. Just then something ran at us from the woods and we all tensed. A scared cat pounced on the crypt and then ran into the woods as we all let out the breath we had been holding. It was time to go.

We sat on the beach looking out and chatting with a few locals who were doing likewise. It was a marvelous night, and a great couple of days, some of the best of my life!

ATC in Cappadocia

We arrived in Cappadocia extremely excited and giddy, having seen the fairy towers out the bus window. We checked into the Traveler’s Cave Hostel, on the fringe of town, which landed us a three person cave room carved directly out of one of the spires. Though our bags were heavy we were light of foot as we headed into town to gape at the larger fairy towers.

A fairy tower, contrary to what I thought (and hoped) is actually ash from a volcano explosion a long, long time ago. Ash, when it makes contact with air, hardens. So, when people put Obsidian tools to the piles of ash and carved caves, they hardened and were a safe dwelling from the elements. Wind and water eroded the exterior into spires, which look super cool and are fun to climb on.

It was late by the time we got into town, so we stopped at Fat Boys for drinks and discovered a Risk board game set, which we proceeded to set up. Until late, we stayed at the pub, had dinner, and attempted to dominate the globe.
The next morning we got up early, having booked an all-day tour of the surrounding area to maximize on what we could see in our minimal time in Cappadocia. The tour group, which was composed of a plethora of young adults from India, Italy and Japan, left at 9:30am with another minibus full of tourists, and an over eager guide named Manchuria. Our first stop was to see the Red Valley structures, which people of antiquity carved into homes for themselves. We snapped photos like true tourists and were mobbed by people selling dolls and scarves.

Our second stop was to the Underground City, which was an 8 story deep ant-hive like network of tunnels and rooms which could hold up to 10,000 people in times of turmoil. People ran down into the caves to hide from enemies, and had such soft limestone walls that they carved out churches, livestock holds, and sleeping quarters—a full city underground. The tunnels were, at times, so small that Matt and Mike had trouble fitting, though I felt that finally something was just my size!

We headed in our mini convoy to a beautiful gorge, where we did a 3k hike through cave ruins along a riverbed, ending at a restaurant where we all dined. From here we set off, stomachs full, to a small town of fairy spires, which was the highlight for our merry group. We had been joined by two other Americans named Sam and Max, who had traveled from Africa and the Middle East to be in Cappadocia. Now we were 5 cube abandoners, and we all fidgeted as the tour guide explained to us not to go into the far left chamber of the highest tower.

Fairy Tower

When the tour guide finished we all went to the far left chamber in the highest tower. Never tell an American not to do something, is the lesson here. We found a crumbled stairway leading straight up into the royal chamber. We climbed up until the tunnel became dark, and then retreated as the tour guides screams started to echo off the walls. We felt like kings, or archeologists, discovering something unseen. Many of us were cut and bleeding from the rough climb, but our smiles were ear to ear as the guide winked at us. I think she told the group not to go to protect the weaker climbers, full well knowing our mini group would attempt the climb.

We next headed to the pigeon valley, a panoramic view of awesomeness. We were all cold by that time, and hungry, but the view was something not to be distracted from and we all stared into the valley reflecting on the day. A tour of a jewelry factory followed, which we hurried through before heading back to town. We quickly had a few drinks and checked out of our cave and bought bus tickets to the Mediterranean Sea Coast, which would be an overnight bus landing us in Olympos by 8am the next morning.

Cappadocia, Goreme

On the evening of the 26th I found a shuttle to the airport and waited for Matt, my friend since 1st grade, to arrive in Ankara. Lauren waited in the hotel room and worked on her several writing contracts. Without thinking, I had brought a pocketknife to the airport with me. Even worse, they had a security check at the entrance – something that is refrained from in the states if you are simply waiting for someone to arrive and not flying. I slowly, and somewhat hesitantly, walked toward the security officers with my unopened pocketknife in one hand. I did this before I went through security and we stumbled through conversation. First, they tried to kick me out, but after a while, one of the guards came over and inspected the knife. I opened it for him and he jokingly put the knife to his neck and pretended to act as if someone – possible me – was cutting his throat. I dramatically shook my head and explained I just wanted to wait for a friend and would not go further into the airport.

I thought for sure it was going to get confiscated so that is why I approached them so it didn’t appear I was trying to sneak it in. To my surprise that had me walk through the metal detector and one of the security ladies came up and slipped the knife into my pocket and told me to keep it in my pocket and not let anyone see it. Although I was surprised, I walked in and nervously waited Matt’s arrival. I was worried he would miss his connection flight because of customs in Istanbul. After waiting for about an additional 40 minutes after his flight landed, I was starting to think he would be on the next flight. Suddenly, I heard a faint yell from behind me. Matt was outside the airport and they wouldn’t let him back in. He was quickly shouting my name as the sliding doors opened and closes for exiting passengers.

It didn’t take us long to find the cheap shuttle, local bus 442 back to Ulus – where we were staying. We were so busy talking and catching-up, also in disbelief the strange location we were meeting each other, that we missed out stop entirely. Luckily we quickly got on the subway back to where Lauren and I had booked a room earlier. After dropping Matt’s stuff off in the room, we went down the street and bought a few local beers – Efes – and then walked toward the Citadel in Ankara, which is the oldest part of the city and the inner walls and foundations were first set by the Galatians. We walked up the steep alleys and streets until we reached near the summit. There was a cul-de-sac with a great panoramic view of the city at the top. We walked over to the wall and kicked our feet over the side of the wall. I think it was a fitting intro to Ankara and it was great to share the experience with Matt and Lauren.

The next morning, after a small breakfast, we went to the impressive Museum of Anatolian Civilizations. It was full of pre-historic, early ages of human settlement, Greek, Hittite, and Roman history etc. The center of the museum housed some of the most interesting collections, several of which have been purchased by the Turkish government from private collections. These comprised of wall frescoes and carvings most of which were from around 9 BCE. After enjoying the museum, we quickly rushed back to the hotel, I repacked my stuff into my old bag – which Matt brought along. (My Chinese knockoff was not going to last another week.)  As we had already purchases tickets to Cappadocia, we barely made out 1:00 bus to Goreme, Turkey.

Ulus, Ankara

Having enjoyed our time in Safranbolu, but eager to get out of a town that was little more than a giant tourist trap complete with cliché souvenirs and overly friendly people trying to rip off any traveler who isn’t used to be wary every waking moment. It was the only town, thus far in Turkey, where people have been rude, tried to swindle us, and have generally left a bad taste in our mouth.

The bus to Ankara was small, and the people on board not particularly friendly. We settled in and put some comedy on the i-pod to liven up our moods. A little bit of laughter goes a long way, and soon we were revived and excited about Ankara.

We arrived in the city and were immediately shocked that it is the capital of Turkey. The city is dirty, expensive, and according to the Lonely Planet, dangerous. The city is divided into three main parts, the cheap part, the party part, and the diplomatic quarter. We went, obviously, to the cheap part, which is also where the Lonely Planet advises against going. The area was safe enough, and we checked into a hotel that smelled of cat urine and cigarette butts. This place makes Hotel California look good. The owner was an old man who had a gentle smile and was affectionately polite. We deposited our belongings in the room (30 TL because it has a bathroom you share with the whole hotel, and no showers at all) and half expected never to see our bags again. We walked around the nearby park, which has been restored and is now clean, nice and heavily guarded. We bought donar kebabs at a booth from a friendly-looking man who told us his brother is in Philadelphia. We had not eaten a real meal in a while, and he gave us a discount when we went to pay—a rare treat when someone loves American travelers, so we relished in it as we walked back through the park.

We spent the next several days in Ankara waiting for our new traveling companion, Matt, to arrive. We saw the Ataturk Mausoleaum and monuments, the Ankara Museum and Citadel and spent hours walking the back alleys and major arteries of Ulus, in Northern Ankara. It is a rather plain and bland city but an expensive one, and we were eager to move on to Cappadocia.

Old Ottoman Museum

We arrived in Safranbolu, named after the plant Safron, around 8pm and instantly realized our bus driver, who was to deposit us in the downtown area, had overshot the landing point by 2k. He pushed us out the door and tossed us our bags as we coughed on exhaust. We shouldered our bags and instantly someone came up and pointed us in the right direction. 2k later, with 50lbs on our backs, we arrived in the right part of town—old town.

Safranbolu’s Old Town area is more than old, its ancient. Some wooden structures still standing are over 300 years old, roof to floor. The Ottoman style homes cover the entire floor of a valley, which is enclosed on all sides by sharp, rocky hills. The only way to enter Old Town is to hike up a hill and over it, which we did in the dark with our bags.

We arrived at our hostel by 9pm and were told it was full. The annual film festival was being held in town this week, so we were out of luck. They did happen to know of a friend who had a room available, so the proprietor picked up Mike’s bag (and nearly fainted at the effort) and marched us up one of the hills to a smaller hostel called the Efe Backpacker’s Pension. We deposited our bags in the dorm room and walked back into town to eat dinner at a small café we had spied on the way up the hill.

Back in the room we met Zoe, a British traveler on her way to South East Asia via Turkey and Iran. She regaled us with stories of meeting the city’s mayor that evening while strolling through town, and of having tea with the film festival’s chairwoman. Zoe was a lively and fun girl to be around, so we stayed up chatting until rather late. We had a few beers we bought at a store down the street, but the owner’s wife came running out onto the patio and told us not to drink there because it was against their religion. The beer we were drinking is called Efes, the Turkish local beer that the hostel was named after. In a daze of irony, we wondered why the named the hostel Efe, why they had a hostel at all if they were so devout, and why they had asked us to stop drinking when we were on the patio. Moreover, why do they sell beer in town if it isn’t to be consumed anywhere? I’m not one to be insensitive to anyone else’s beliefs, but on this count I find the no drinking in a hostel named after a beer just ridiculous. The situation was made all the more ironic because we were in a co-ed dorm, which should really be considered risky in Islam, when you think about it.

In the morning we walked around admiring the old Ottoman structures and snapping pictures of the town’s millions of cats. The town is small, and it took less than an hour to see the entire thing. We did something we never do, and bought a few cheesy souvenirs and a hand-woven shirt. In the evening we had a nice dinner with Zoe of Turkish meatballs and egg pizza. We went to the town’s only bar for a beer afterwards, and enjoyed the live music and atmosphere. On the way out the owner tried to charge us 5 TL for the nuts that had been on the table, but Mike and Zoe did their verbal punching and we ended up walking out paying what was right. I’m convinced that people in tourist towns like Safranbolu are not as good as elsewhere, since they are always trying to turn a quick buck on unwitting, young tourists.

At any rate, we slept in the dorm room again and in the morning notified the owner that we would be moving out. They panicked and pushed us from the breakfast table back into our room to pack up our bags. In a haze, they loaded our bags on our backs and gestured to the door. Apparently, once you pay, you might as well get the hell out because you are no good to them anymore. Three strikes for Safranbolu! Since we were thus evicted, we went to the bus station to get out of dodge, but found that there were no buses until 5pm. It was 11am. We took a minibus to the next town and from there got on a bus to Ankara by 1pm. Take that, crappy bus system of Safranbolu! We’re out of here!

Sinop Harbor

Trabzon and the magnificent hanging monastery of Sumela disappeared in the distance behind us as we boarded yet another bus heading West. Our goal was to go from Trabzon’s main bus station to the Samson station, half way to Sinop along the Black Sea Coast. For better or worse we arrived in Samson behind schedule at midnight and discovered that there was no minibus into town. The bus station was in the outskirts of Samson, and we were not in the mood to spend money and time getting to a hotel just to wake up early to catch another bus. We hastily pitched our tent near the bus station in a field next to a row of wind-break trees. It was dark, creepy and ominous not knowing what else was in the field, but since the frogs and birds were chirping it became a soothing kind of nature as we quickly jumped in the tent and fell asleep.

We awoke to the sound of barking dogs, the only concern in my mind. People you can reason with and explain that we were just camping on their property for the night—you can’t reason with a drooling dog. A farmer emerged through the field and called the dogs off of us just as I was reaching in my bag for a blunt object to protect us with. The farmer simply walked back through the corn stocks and we headed towards the bus station. It was 7am, and our bus, we discovered, left at 8:30.

After a light breakfast we were on another bus heading West….a déjà vu kind of feeling. Sinop was our destination and we had heard great things about the small coastal town. I caught up on my sleep and we arrived by early afternoon and checked into a pension. The owners were two friendly old men who gave us a discount simply based on how pathetic we looked. We cleaned up, showered and changed out of our camping clothes and reemerged to startle the proprietors, who hardly recognized us in our new and clean state.

Sinop was bustling with activity, and we quickly followed the noise towards the harbor, where people of all colors were drinking tea, playing chess and backgammon and smoking. We grabbed a table at a harbor-side café and had a few beers while we watched the fishermen haul in their catch. With Ramadan over, people around us were snacking and we jumped on the bandwagon and headed off to find food of our own.

Mike succeeded in finding beers, which he bought to drink on the harbor. I found some juice and we sat on the dock dangling our feet over the side playing cribbage and watching the sunset.

Because it was such a restful place we were tempted to stay another day, but having made arrangements to meet a friend in Ankara, we had to push on. We checked out of our friendly Pension and waved goodbye to the two proprietors who had been so kind. We took a local bus to the long-distance bus station and boarded yet another bus, this one heading to Kastamonu, mid way between Sinop and Ankara. But we had other plans in mind, at Kastamonu we got on another bus to Safranbolu, and ancient Ottoman town that has survived intact to this day!

Trabzon Mosque

After a restful week in Yusufeli we felt more than up to the task of our 6 hour bus ride to Trabzon. This was no ordinary road, but a winding, rocky pathway on which giant buses passed each other going opposite directions like slugs creeping past one another. I quickly fell into my “sleep when you can!” routine and managed to feel marginally normal for the first twenty minutes. But when we hit the first of a series of winding curves it was back to barfing into a Doritos bag for me! Looked up at one point, mid-puke, and Mike was laughing hysterically as I gave the thumbs up and finished emptying my stomach. Apparently I had eaten something red (I don’t remember that?!).

We arrived relatively unscathed in Trabzon, which is one of the biggest Black Sea coastal cities in Turkey. We had decided not to take a direct bus to Ankara, but to tour the Black Sea Coast and soak in our last glimpses of this temperamental sea. Trabzon was a delightful city with glistening white Christmas lights hanging over pedestrian streets that were crowded with merry people shoving baklava into their mouths by the fistful. We checked into a hotel and received a discount based on how utterly hopeless we looked with our giant bags and sweat-covered faces. We wandered into the central park and had tea before finding a place to dine and exploring the city on foot. Mike’s primary interest was in acquiring a few beers, since Ramadan was now over. This proved more difficult than one would imagine, and Mike became ever more determined as the shops displayed endless amounts of sweets but no beer for poor Mike.
We strolled around feeling like it was a Christmas-like city, without snow and full of Muslims. The attitude was jovial and holiday-like, and everyone seemed happier than normal and full of holiday cheer. It was the last day of post-Ramadan feasting, which was perhaps part of the mood, but I think Trabzon is also just a friendly place.

Sumela Monastery. The next morning we booked a trip with a travel company (our first group tour!) to go to the Sumela hanging Monastery, about 45minutes away. Our minibus held mostly Turkish tourists and three other international travelers. It rained, and our minibus sent showers of water up the windshield with every puddle we hit. We were deposited at the top of the mountain to climb the last 1/4th of the mountain on foot. As usual, Mike forgot his umbrella so we huddled under mine as we climbed through the woods and up ancient stone steps to the monastery. The buildings have been restored, but were original built in Byzantine times by the Greeks who had hoped to acquire the area as a Greek state. The creation of the Turkish Republic saw the demise of Greek Orthodoxy and the abandonment of the monastery. The structure itself clings almost desperately to the side of a sheer rock face high above an evergreen forest, with a raging river and waterfalls galore below. We wandered from room to abandoned room and gaped at the paintings of Christ and the Virgin Mary on cave walls.

After an hour at the Monastery we wandered down the mountain in the rain as cars splashed past us on their way up. Midway down my shoes had more water inside than out, and my toes began to turn to raisins inside my mushy socks. A friendly Turkish family picked us up, thanks to our pathetic looks once again, and drove us down the road (which was now more a river than a road) to the base of the mountain where a small restaurant sat nestled in the woods. Here our driver had instructed us to gather at the appointed time. We ate a small meal so that we could sit inside where it was warm, and then boarded our minibus back to Trabzon where I sat with a German lady, an Australian man and a Polish traveler as we discussed what was worth seeing in Turkey and the highlights of the Caucus—the normal backpacker conversations one hears in every bus station, airport and hostel across the planet.

Mongol Rally Logo

Lauren and Mike landed a team in the Mongol Rally 2010! We’re in the process of picking a few team members, looking for sponsors, and planning our route. You can follow all of our progress via the blog, but we’ll also be creating a Mongol Rally page on our website soon with updates and more information.

The Mongol Rally is a charity event wherein each team (500 total) take a 1 liter car from Europe to Mongolia to donate the car to charity along with $1500 for Mercy Corps. We’re overwhelmed with glee that we get to participate in the event this year, having witnessed several teams from the 2009 rally while in Turkmenistan. It is a once-in-a-lifetime, crazy event and it’s for a good cause.

Our team, the Abandon the Cube team, is conjoined with the Not Cubists team from Yelm, Washington. We’re busy with the preliminary aspects of putting together two winning cars with one winning strategy to make it to Mongolia in our perfectly unsuitable, tiny little cars.

More information on the Mongol Rally  or for other volunteer experiences, see our “Events ” drop-down menu.

To sponsor us, or if you have ideas for sponsors please send us an email at lauren (at) abandonthecube.com or mike (at) abandonthecube.com