Farewell Istanbul

Monday, May 25.

Istanbul to Cappadocia.

Today is goodbye Istanbul. We have enjoyed this crossroads city but do not feel sad to be leaving it. We know Istanbul has a lot to offer in every way. However, as he have grown away from Sydney, largely because of its size, so too we would be happy to make short visits again to Istanbul rather than linger.

We are up early – so early that when Lois goes down to buy some of the traditional bagel like round bread, she has to wait for the man to appear. We have our standard minimalist breakfast of bread with labne and tomato and some water. The taxi that was ordered for us for 8.30am is only a few minutes late. Because we are leaving from Istanbul’s second airport which is further away from the city (on the Asian side), it costs us 125tl which is at least a little better than in Brisbane. By driving time, it is good value as our driver takes nearly 1.5 hours of sometimes ‘edge of the seat’ driving as well as some traffic bottlenecks. Just as well we left when we did otherwise we might be getting knotted.

The twilight life around Galata Tower. It is mostly Efes beer that is consumed.

The money spent on electioneering by the governing party is hard to comprehend.  This is on the way to the airport.

This is the other Istanbul to millions of Turks.

Death defying desperate vendor in the middle of the expressway heading across one of the Bosphorus giant suspension bridges. How he got there is equally daring.

There are two security checks – one at the terminal entry and another at the departure lounges. We hold our breath as we place our substantial bags on the scales. Each is a little over 20kg although we are allowed only 15. We have not started shedding tears but just smile warmly as the check in lady does our processing. Whatever persuaded her to ignore the highlighted information on our booking page, she makes nothing of our heaviness. We notice that most passengers are local travelers and with very little baggage. The plane certainly will not be burning extra fuel because of our gear. The airline company is a subsidiary of Turkish Airlines and the local equivalent of Jetstar. Thus, no surprise that we are bused to our plane way out on the tarmac. I guess theoretically, it is closer to the taxiways and runway to save fuel, even if a little more inconvenient for passengers. You get what you pay for.

Istanbut is not Dubai!

The flight to Nevsehir is smooth, uneventful, with a paper cup of water and a small roll with fetta and lasts a little over an hour. It is a no fuss provincial airport. Our portly Captain stretches his legs and has a smoke between the plane and the terminal building. There are no other planes. In a little while he will turn around and head back his Boeing 737 which would not have been more that 1/3 full.

As we had organized an airport transfer, our name is prominently displayed as we enter the terminal. We follow our ‘guide’ to one of a number of shuttle minibuses which drop passengers off to their various hotels. It is a good and friendly system. After a half hour drive, we arrive at out Ortahisar Cave Hotel. Our host Fatma and her staff Onur and Nurai (sounds like!) greet us warmly. We are nourished and refreshed with a fruit drink, some own made chocolate cake and of course tea. Only then are we shown to our little cave room. It is in fact a cave, being entirely carved out of a large rock which is at the back of the property. It was no doubt once part of the back yard where the family also lived. However, now it has been freshly set up as 9 hotel rooms as well as some terraces and outdoor areas. It is truly most impressively presented.

The entrance to our cave.

One of the upper terrace rooms.

Internally, some of the local stone has been used for a wall. The one disadvantage is that it only has one small window but that is the price you pay for the amenity of very stable and moderate temperature all year round.

There are some nice touches of detail.

One observation I make which could be an improvement is that there are not enough power outlets or thought given where guests can connect their laptops and reasonably conveniently use them. We make do.

We laze around a little enjoying our unusual surroundings, do some unpacking and organizing and of course get connected to the internet. It is quite frightening how dependent on it we have become, especially that the book publishing matters are still not concluded nor is Peter’s case in Cairo. Come concerning emails regarding issues in Egypt are items we wish we did not have but that is life. By the time we put a Skype call to Peter in Sydney, it is 5.30pm and the afternoon has gone.

Some of our unassuming neighbourhood.

We are hungry. The next is our first serious meal of the day. No rituals of reading menus outside and counting the diners inside. We walk the couple of hundred metres into the centre of town and end up at what could hardly be called a restaurant but a very unassuming place which serves meals. However, it offers a magnificent view over Ortahisar, being at the base of the ‘Castle’ – the prominent local rock pinnacle which dominates each of the small towns in Cappadocia.

Heading towards dinner.

The very simple but generous meal with a couple of Efes beers (@5%) all go down very easily and it did not hurt the wallet too at 67tl (about A$34). We stagger back to our cave. We settle back for some emails and internet when the power goes off. We noticed that there were remains of small candles in the niches cut into the rock wall but they have been burned and in any case, we do not have matches. We are surprised that our host did not come to our aid. My small battery powered head lamp proves its usefulness. There is only one thing to do – bed.