Category Turkey

These days we don’t really get to Abandon the Cube as much as we’d like, but this week we’re in sunny Atlantic Beach living the dream.

And by dream I literally do mean living a more vivid dream. I read once that people along the coasts dream more vividly and live life a bit more wildly. At the same time, more great thinkers, philosophers and dreamers have come from coastal cities than inlanders. I knew this before we arrived at the beach and I was looking forward to insane dreams with M.C Escher stairs with droopy Salvador Dali animals running up and down. Oddly enough, the sun has made me more tired so I haven’t been dreaming at all. On the other hand, I had an awesomely deep conversation about the pitfalls of the Machiavellian state vs Confucianism this morning, which was unlikely to happen back inland so there is that….

Dreaming

One thing I’ve always hated about the beach is how commercial it is. And it’s not just American beaches. I went to the beach in Turkmenistan a few years ago and there was a guy selling inflatable bananas, crocodiles and beach balls just like the guy on the coast here in sunny North Carolina. The only beach I’ve ever been to without capitalist swarming all over it was in Olympos, Turkey.

Olympos, Turkey

You had to hike through a jungle following a wall built in the Hellenistic period and the jump around a wall made during the Roman Empire to find this stunning blue lagoon full of hippie backpackers. It was paradise. If I found out tomorrow I had an incurable disease you’d find me the day after on the beach in Olympos looking out of crystal waters with ancient ruins behind me in the jungle. Truly awesome.

Atlantic Beach

And the beach here in North Carolina could be like that if it wasn’t so developed. My uncle has a place along one of the canals and across from his home is an uninhabited island jungle that looks amazingly fun to explore. I bet the pirates of old have buried treasure out there somewhere.

Pirates of North Carolina

I’m also reminded, while looking out at the ocean, how close the Nazi subs were to this very area, and how many ships met their doom at Nazi hands right off the coast here. As one historian put it, “It wasn’t the US Navy or Coast Guard that controlled the Atlantic coast in 1942, it was the Nazi U-boats.”

One U-boat captain told his son (who survived him through the war) that he was most amazed at how life continued on as normal in the US despite it’s being at war. People were on the beaches every day, boats went out on joy rides ride near the lurking subs (unbeknownst to them obviously) and at night the coast was lit up from all the bars, parties and general merriment. This may be one of the reasons Americans have a reputation abroad as always jovial, never serious.

U-Boats Prep for the Atlantic Campaign

Pretty stunning how much history there is right off the coast. (Not even counting the stuff in Kitty Hawk–the first flight of the Wright Brothers.)

Wright Brothers in NC

Baku

After a lot of hard work, Lauren has released our next newsletter.  This issue covers the Azerbaijan, The Republic of Georgia, and Turkey.  I have put it up on several areas throughout our site.  It gives a nice overview our our trip through the area as well as some stories and selected pictures all wrapped up in a really awesome looking PDF file.  I have attached a the file for those of you interested.  Best Wishes for 2010!

Mike & Lauren

Abandon the Cube Caucasus and Turkey Newsletter <———- Click here to read!

Olympos – Olympos is a relatively concealed and close-knit community of hostels and beach-style tree-house cabanas. Very few tourists visit the location, which is filled with backpackers, hippies and Europeans trying to get in touch with their inner child. The town is located 200m from the beach and surrounded on all sides by ancient ruins dating back to the Hellenistic period, and spruced up by the Greeks and Romans in later years. Ruins sit in the jungle along the coast waiting to be discovered, and the rocky beach offers cliff-jumping opportunities along with crystal blue swimming waters.

Fethiye – This small, Mediterranean coastal city is exactly what the doctor ordered for yachters and wealthier travelers. With a charming cove harbor where you can dock your boat directly in front of sea-side restaurants and cafes, what isn’t to like? A castle overlooks the entire scene from atop a hill, and ancient Greek and Roman crypts draw history buffs from around the globe, who can climb atop and even inside the crypts to wonder at ancient methods of entombing the dead. Old town is particularly nice, and offers exotic shopping, eating and drinking opportunities.

Ephesus – While classified more as the Aegean than the Mediterranean, Ephesus hits the top five list because of its amazing history and coastal location, and because early trade routes indicate that Ephesus was in touch with more to the east and west by sea than previously assumed. We enjoyed the ruins of Ephesus, and the nearby ancient cities and religious sites. It would be easy to spend weeks here.

Malaga – Located in southern Spain, Malaga is known for its wine, its castle and its impeccable sense of style. While expensive, this city makes the list because its wide, clean boulevards were filled with live entertainment and bohemian human art. The castle, while groomed and recently rebuilt, still offers great views of the Mediterranean, the harbor and the city itself, making it a fine place to spend a few days if you can afford the luxury digs.

Tunis – The capital of Tunisia sits directly in the Gulf of Tunis, which protects the city from wind and water without hampering the amazing Mediterranean views. The water is warm and teeming with fish, which gives the residents of Tunis opportunity to board themselves in tiny boats and run pattered grids across the harbor at all hours of day. Tunis is close to Carthage, or Roman legend, and offers shopping, spices and a real Middle Eastern atmosphere of entrepreneurship.

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.

Water Pumping

Having arrived in Yusufeli without a map, we had to rely on shabby LP written directions to get us a place to sleep. We have not had good luck with these in the past, but luckily since we were so exhausted after the 4 minibuses that day, we found the place within a half hour. We walked through the very quiet town of Yusufeli to Green Piece Pension. Reading our guide, we were tipped that there were places to camp here, which really appealed to us because we were somewhat shocked at the inflated prices in Turkey, or at least in comparison to everywhere we had been. We walked across a creaky suspension bridge that made Lauren’s stomach churn and down a gravel road for less than 1 k. Nestled next to a rolling stream, several vegetable fields, and rocky hill tops in every direction, this was a great place to stay.

The friendly family immediately showed us the camping area and within a few minutes, our camp was all set up. The nice thing about Green Piece, was that we could use their facilities, which included a restaurant, wifi, warm showers, and bathrooms. Over the next several days, as we really took a liking to the place, it rained 5-6 times a day. I was joking with Lauren that it was a lot like Seattle. Coincidently, we also heard a comedian’s joke about Seattle on my iPod, “You know what they say in Seattle, if you don’t like the weather, just wait 5 minutes and then shoot yourself in the face.” – Probably a little dark for the blog, but the rain was actually really refreshing and the rain lulled us to sleep in the tent at night. We also got a lot of work done on the site. It was funny making a few Skype calls from our tent – as the fact that we had wifi in a tent was ridiculous, but I made a point to tell everyone where we were. Traveling is not what it used to be, huh?

One thing that did not take us too long to pick up was that there was a shortage of food!!! Yusufeli was a very religious Muslim town. We realized this the first night when the 5:00 am call to prayer blared on for several minutes and woke us up in the middle of the night. We also quickly learned that it was the festival or “torture” of Ramadan. Ramadan, a Muslim “holiday,” is a long period of fasting. This made people irritable, hungry, short-tempered, and ill-humored. It was also difficult for us to find food as all the food establishments were closed. It also made me feel guilty to eat in front of the family when they couldn’t eat from sun up to sun down. The lesson learned was, and we had heard it before: Don’t go to Muslim countries during Ramadan. Unfortunately, I don’t really keep track of things like as they usually don’t apply to me. They did in Turkey. We were able to cook a few meals in the kitchen as well. They told us we could use the kitchen, but I am not sure how happy they were about it. We also saw several whitewater rafting groups come there while we were there, a man from Holland who had been riding around on a motorcycle for a year and a half, as well as another Dutch couple with a camper who lived in St. Martin. Besides the great company we had while we were there, the slow atmosphere of the mountain city as well as the trekking around the village, made it a worthwhile place to plan and time the rest of our trip up to Ankara.

The Minibus

Having crossed several borders, with shady officials and legitimate ones, we have now crossed the easiest border on the planet between the Republic of Georgia and Turkey.

Georgia has no visa requirements, but welcomes everyone to their country. Turkey sells visas for $20 a pop at the border crossing, a simple sticker and a quick scanned copy of our passports was all that was needed. They did not check our bags, or fingerprint us, or ask if we had the swine flu, or rob us, or tell us their political views. It was as if we were going from one friendly place to another, which is exactly what we were doing.

We left the beach in Georgia in the morning and caught a simple, 1 GEL bus to the Sarpi border. From there we simply walked across the Georgian side with a wave and an exit stamp, and we were in Turkey! A friendly border guard pointed us to the visa purchasing office, and we bought the required stickers and got the required stamps without hassle.
Once outside the barbed-wire fence we sat around waiting for a bus. Without any Turkish language ability we were SOL for a while before someone came up and offered to take us to Hopa for 4 TL a person, which seemed reasonable. Once in Hopa we watched everyone else pay 2 TL a person and had to grin a bit. Less than twenty minutes in the country and we were swindled. Typical, but we’re not in Georgia anymore, are we! And there was something special about Georgia, perhaps the shared religion, that made the people honest and kind and unable to cheat.

From Hopa we found a nice family who helped us onto another bus to Artvin. Here is where the world proved itself to be a great leveling device. Because the other bus driver had charged us double (and we had agreed in advance) we did not have enough money for the bus to Artvin. The driver took the money we did have, which was 4 less than the correct amount, and drove us all the way to Artvin without complaint. Hence, we ended up getting there for 2 TL less than a local would have. Ironic.

Once in Artvin we had to wait an hour for my stomach to stop hurling from the motion sickness. Hopa to Artvin was a winding, mountainous road that followed a raging river. We hurtled through the mountains without a care to the deathly drop-offs next to the bus, and without worrying about oncoming traffic or rocks in the road, or cows. I’m surprised I didn’t vomit just from looking over the edge of the cliff as we whizzed past. While we waited, our driver got in his minivan and put it in reverse and then floored it! His minivan was aiming right at Mike and I as we sat on a bench catching our breath. Everyone yelled and I propped by feet up on the bench hoping the metal frame would stop the van before it crushed me. Luckily the screaming worked and the driver got out of his minivan and looked at Mike and I (and a local sharing the bench). We still had our feet up, but thanks to the nausea we were more focused on not vomiting than not being hit by crazed, lunatic drivers.

Finally, we boarded the bus to Yusufeli, which was to be our destination for the night. We got in the mini bus (meant to hold 12, but now holding 18) and settled in for a long drive. Midway the road was closed due to an avalanche, so we all got out to throw stones at the river below us. A passenger got in the driver’s seat and put the car in reverse while trying to impress two female passengers. He rammed the minibus directly into a parked truck, rocking both vehicles precariously close to the drop off. Our driver came running, full of curses and wild hand gestures, to the passenger and berated him in front of the ladies—the opposite of his aim. We watched the whole event from the river bank, wondering how we’d fish out our belongings from the river if the car had slid in. Finally, as night approached, we made it to Yusufeli, having left Georgia that morning and taken 4 buses in the course of the day and witnessing two car accidents.

Our New Travel Companion - Photo: Keyboards for There's Always Wednesday

Here at Abandon the Cube we’re always happy to hear other traveler’s adventure tales. We’ve met a lot of great people along the way, and admire (with tears of jealousy) some of the insane routes people have chosen. But now we’d like to announce that Abandon the Cube has a new traveler jumping in on the itinerary.

The story of how Matt is joining the ATC crew is a funny and inspiring one. Matt was at the casino over the weekend when he put a penny in a lucky machine and out popped a $1300 prize.  He got on the web, sent an email to Mike that said, “I’ve won at the penny slots, I’m getting my birth certificate, applying for a passport, and I’m coming to join you!”

Matt will be joining ATC in Ankara, Turkey, and traveling with the, what will become trio,  throughout the Medderiterranian region. We’re happy to have him on board and look forward to the adventure!

Batumi Beach

After Bojormi National Park, Gori, Tbilisi, Kazbegi, Baku, and the Caspian Sea ferry, we were ready for a break. However, we were unaware that we would get such a great one. As our minibus emerged from the foliage and hilltops, we caught our first glimpses of the Black Sea. It was right here that Jason and the Argonauts landed in search of the Golden Fleece. Being a huge fan of the film from childhood, it was an awesome experience coming to the realization that the story was based on actual legend and places and that we were standing on the very ground that the story unfolded upon. My first impression of the Black Sea was that I quickly understood where the name came from. Black clouds were rolling over the hills surrounding the sea and gave the water a opaque dark color. The beach was very rocky and, my imagination running wild, I thought of the rough whitecaps throwing wooden ships onto the rocky shores.

After a few more hours, the bus pulled to a stop near a small port city. The bus driver turned around, enamored that we were from ‘America,’ gave me a head nod and said, “Batumi.” He then gave me a thumbs up and said, “Chicago Bulls.” I immediately got a west coast United States feeling from Batumi. It seemed like a laid-back beach community. We wandered through town with our cumbersome bags, receiving stairs of wonderment and distress. Many women would stop and stare at Lauren and look at her in distress over the big bag she was carrying on her back. I couldn’t help but feel like they then glared at me as if I was some kind of horrible creature to make her walk around carrying such a weight. We found an acceptable place to stay, albeit slightly musty, but we just figured that added to the coastline experience.

We walked down to the beach and, although still very rocky, we found it full of locals. We enjoyed two days and three nights in Batumi and kicked our feet up in the laid-back atmosphere. Lauren read her books, drank a few beers, and snacked in the sun and under umbrellas, while I spent half my time floating out by the buoy and the other half, running into town or the other side of the beach to replenish water and other beverages. I found out, days later, that my parents were worried about us being in flooding that was going on in Turkey. Little did they know that we were laying out on a beach drinking vodka tonics. It was a very enjoyable drive out to Batumi and the atmosphere was unlike anywhere else we had been, and was very different to anything else in Georgia. Batumi makes for an interesting entrance or departure into the Republic of Georgia, but definitely a must see in Georgia, as we saw Georgians in a new relaxed light we had never seen them in before.