This is going to be a bit of a windy one so brew your favorite cup of tea, coffee or have a treat handy and settle in for our next day's adventure.
In the United States, we have a hymn called 'Amazing Grace', throughout the course of this cross-cultural mission I have often thought on it, particularly so on our journey through Nigde (pronounced 'needeh'). The evening and the morning that we spent with the amazing people there did not end at our previous interval.
After receiving numerous gifts and surprises, we all walked down together to stand on the stairs for a group photo. While standing there, an eruption of golden sparkletts burst from either side of the steps. As if the night hadn't been magical enough!
From there we bid good night to one another, then Carole and I loaded into the car of our host family and drove off to their home. This was the night to which I had been most looking forward; spending the night with a family.
The sweet family who hosted us had three children, two of which were older. The daughter, Sedah (I sure hope I spelled that right!), spoke English and she was our translator.
When we arrived at their home, we were taken into a beautiful house. Many of the houses here are relatively humble on the inside, but once you step in through the door you see beauty that is neither opulent or over the top. The interiors are well decorated, typically with designs of gold, but in our experience, regardless of the vestments, you instantly feel comfortable, like you've stepped into your own home. Turkish culture is like that. I thought about all of the uptown houses I've been to in New York, where you usually felt more comfortable touching things in a museum than in their condos.
Anyway, we were lead to their upper, covered patio where we sat with Mehmet, our host, his wife and Sedah. As we walked through their living room I saw that Sedah's little brother who was probably around 7 had instantly logged into his tablet and was in his own little technological world. I joked with Sedah that no matter where you go around the world, children are the same.
With the wonderful help of Sedah the group of us talked about California, San Diego, their travels, what they did and their future plans. Mehmet had been to the States a number of times and when we showed photos of California and our families, he brought out a place mat or something like that, which was a map of the Golden state. The conversations were a lot of fun and it was enjoyable communicating through photos and with the assistance of Sedah. Carole and I were impressed with Sedah's plan to study international business. She has a bright, bubblly personality and I'm glad we were able to meet one another and hopefully we will stay in touch.
Amid the conversation, Mehmet excused himself and we quickly realized that the surprises of Nigde were no where near over yet.
From behind us a plate of ice cream and baklava were placed in front of us. There is something you have to understand about Turkey - the ice cream here is simply superior. My companions and I have become obsessed with the ice cream, which I later learned to ask for in Turkish ('dondurum lutfen!"). And the baklava here is different - it is made with sugar and water, not honey, so the texture and sticky goodness of it is slightly different than that of which we are familiar in the States. Another and largely more important thing to understand about Turkey is that it is a part of the culture to feed people, guests in particular. Wherever we went in Turkey we heard the expression that roughly translated means "guests take 9 things; they eat one, and leave 8." I sure hope this was true because boy did we receive in bulk that one proverbial item!
We continued to talk then Mrs. Mehmet also excused herself and then came a variety of nuts, then there was water mellon and I feel as though I am forgetting some other food item, but by the time the mellon came I was just about to burst!
Luckily enough though it was time to sleep. Mehmet and Sedah showed us downstairs where there was what we would refer to as a full "Granny sweet," complete with a decent sized kitchen and bathroom. Sedah joked with us, "This is the American room." Her family hosts over 20 Americans a year. I told her that they were professionals. We were to sleep on the most comfortable pull-out couches that ever were made and as we were settling down, Sedah told us that there was one problem with the shower. The way she said it made me think, "uh-oh; it's a stall outside." Or, "there is no shower." And this was what she said, "It takes a little while for it to warm up."
Carole and I stared at her for a moment; if that was the only problem, if their house was a hotel it would still receive 5 star ratings from any trip advising site.
Sedah bid us goodnight and after taking my shower that took maybe a minute to warm up, I settled into bed, google chatted with my mom and sisters, then fell fast asleep.
The next morning, we awoke to see the lovely view of the backyard garden. It was bound to be yet another beautiful day.
Carole and I got ready then headed upstairs. We were scheduled to enjoy breakfast at Mr. Afsar's garden house, the wise elder from the night before. When we went upstairs we sat with Sedah for a little while out on the porch. The view was breathtaking. Beyond the garden where peppers were being laid out to dry for winter, was the face of another titanic mountain that we did not even realize was there.
As we sat there talking with Sedah, Mehmet surprised us with these enormous blue velvet boxes. Carole and I looked at each other bashfully - the gifts that we brought for our host family PALED in comparison to the grace and the generosity this family bestowed on us. What we received were beautiful plates.
Recall the shop that we went to a few days ago where Margie attempted make the bowl and where all of the pieces were hand made and hand designed? Well, these beautiful plates were of the same nature. Even the backs were signed by the aritists, so these were unique and original pieces. We expressed our extreme gratitude for all that they had done and after we took a photo of the family, we headed out for the garden house where the majority of our new brothers and sisters from the night before would be.
It was a hundred times as epic as it sounds.
Not only was there a garden full of apples, figs, strawberries, roses and all other amazing, beautiful, breathtaking fauna you could imagine, tucked away inside the garden as if a secret, was the large family home of Mr. Afsar.
This house was incredible. The mostly wooden interior had a tall, grand fireplace made of a special rock. Orange patterns formed within the grey, and legend tells that the patterns reflect whatever image it was that was before the rock. In several of the patterns we could see faces. It was awesome.
Beside the fireplace a long buffet table stood, covered with a white table cloth and every Turkish breakfast goodie you could imagine.
A long banquet table had been laid out for us, but we all sat around the living room in beautiful chairs. We noticed that there were no tvs and Carlos told us that the Afsar's were a wise generation that found centering a house around a tv to be foolish. I have to say that I agree.
Once we were all settled in our seats, Mr. Afsar addressed us once more and we learned more about his school and his life. The man is simply incredible. He started his life's career by standing on the side of the street selling furniture. He was a man destined for greatness and determined to design schools with universal education. Universal meaning no discrimination and the exposure to a well rounded education, including academics, music, dance, art, and the appreciation of every person in the world, regardless their differences. I.E. - global citizen making.
We then discussed our backgrounds more and the people were able to hear about our experiences more in depth. But our rumbling tummies and that beautiful feast called. Mr. Afsar stood at the end of the table and made sure that we took a little bit of everything and I found out a little bit later that his daughter had prepared almost the entire feast herself from scratch and from the garden!
Needless to say, the food was exquisite. I sat next to Fatimah (pronounced Fat'mah", the lovely lady who made the beautiful paintings the night before. She and I had wonderful conversations and I learned from her that Mr. Afsar's daughter was the cook. Fatimah said, "Fatih is a very good cook and very fast!" It took Fatih a few hours to make that meal, it would have taken me days, and I consider myself a good cook/baker.
There was one item in particular that wowed us, I mean it litterally made us say wow. Fatih had made from their garden a rose jam. Stop and think on how incredible that is for a moment. If you don't know how hard it is to make jam, go Google this process and come right back. There's a few reasons why the non-corn syrups, the real organic stuff is expensive State-side. We could not get enough of the jam and later on Mesut would thank Margie for pointing it out because he almost missed it and he too would still be talking about it days later.
With wonderfully full bellies and finished cups of tea (soooooo much tea! My best friend Victoria would be in seventh heaven) we returned to the couch for yet ANOTHER surprise.
One by one we went up to Mr. Afsar to be presented with a wrapped gift. We hugged him and shook his hands and I am certain that the gratitude in our eyes would have been universally understood. We sat down with our wrapped presents and together opened our gifts. Each one of us had our very own kilma - Turkish rugs. Kilma are made from wool and cotton and are absolutely beautiful. I will always think of the grounded warmth of Nigde every single time I walk upon or see that rug.
BUT WAIT! There's more! Mr. Afsar had one more gift. He said something to the effect of this although he said it much more eloquently to Rosemary; "Your heart-filled efforts of teaching the general public that Muslims cannot be terroroists and terrorists cannot be muslim are noble and praiseworthy. May Allah bless you and your work." He then presented her the most beautiful rug. Looking around at the faces of the people in the room you could see their appreciation for her efforts of helping to bring light and understanding to our community during dark and grim times for all. Their faces in that moment will truly stay with me for a long time. They will serve as reminders that our efforts and our trials and struggles to build bridges in our own communities are making hugely positive waves around the globe whether we realize it or not.
We took several photos and exchanged business cards, but unfortunately it was time to go.
While everyone was collecting their things, I wandered out and saw this:
A constant reminder in this house of the brother and sisterhood of our two great nations.
Numerous hugs later, we waved goodbye to our brothers and sisters of Nigde with our henna stamped hands. We all sat reflecting on the grace of those people who treated strangers like kin. I'm sure I'm speaking on behalf of the group that our time in Nigde was the best and that it will stay with us always. The love of Rumi may never have beat more strongly than it does in Nigde.
Cappodocia
The drive to Cappodocia was not long. We were expecting some much needed nap time, but we would not get it until much later in the day.
We stepped out of the bus into the first of many sights for the day. We had arrived at the underground city.
A humble shepherd discovered the massive underground labyrinth after it had long been swallowed by those mischievous sands of time. The caves were expanded over several centuries and they were designed to be quick get aways for the people in the valley were an invading force to come around. The caves had been used for centuries by a variety of different people, cultures and sects. For example, Christians would use the caves to hide from the Romans and the contemporary people of Cappodocia used some of the caves today as basements or larders for food. They had air shafts, secret doors, doors that locked, doors that they could shoot through, hiding places, food storages, mortars, stairs. It was highly advanced, but the LOTR fan in me kept thinking of us as the Hobbits running from goblins and Belrog.
Needless to say, with our group's lively personalities we had more than enough fun squeezing through tiny passageways, avoiding dastardly looking holes in the floor, and quite simply, playing in the caves. It was every child's favorite dream and every adult's secret dream. I know I am not alone in thinking this, but those caves would make for a laser tag arena to end all laser tag arenas. I thought of all the playgrounds that I had been to in my life and none were half as cool (although the ones in NYC were certainly colder) as these caves. I could have played in there for hours.
From there, it was back in the van again and we went to what felt like Mars. The castles of Cappodocia rose out from the ground and they looked like something out of this world. People used to dwell in these natural structures and today many hotels have capitalized on this idea, filling the ancient miraculous walls with their guests. If this isn't the 8th wonder of the world...
We stayed there for a little while enjoying the view and it was peaceful. There was a small market behind us with many vendors selling that ah-mazing ice cream and all sorts of chotsky, but the area was relatively quiet. From our advantage, we could see the whole valley. I watched the birds soar on the breeze through the rock castles.
Our next stop from there was the Fairy palaces.
Over time volcanoes and the waters of the sea that once was in this region receded and eventually dried, leaving behind these incredible pillars reaching up to the sky. Some looked like ice cream cones, some looked like mushrooms, and one collection looked like camels. Conveniently enough, there were camels at hand for comparison.
We hiked all over the caves and had a wonderful time exploring, Mesut probably more so than any of the other adventurers to visit. I think I've gathered enough evidence to prove that Mesut is part spider. Climbing straight up a vertical wall had something to do with this theory.
We hopped back in the van and began to drive to our next stop: lunch! Covered in cave dirt and fairy dust, we went to the Turkish equivalence of a Soup Plantation/Hometown Buffet and it was pretty good. My stomach was a bit on the fritz, so I wasn't able to enjoy as much as I would have liked, but it was enough.
Following this part of Cappodocia we went to see how Turkish rugs are made. We learned about silk worms and the Silk Road and were shown how the young ladies make the rugs by tying a series of thousands of little knots. The rug merchant gave us a presentation that felt too long and there was that awkward "which $1000+ plus rug would you like us to package for you" moment. Needless to say, our needs for rugs were already 1000% satisfied with our rugs from Nigde.
Our next stop for the day was at the Christian churches in Goreme that had been occupied by monks and adorned with frescos. This place was incredible. I hiked up to the higher and more difficult caves to access where the tourists were far less. The view from the mouths of these caves alone were breathtaking, but the frescos within were deeply moving.
Alas, we were not allowed to take photos inside the caves, but I did capture one image of a table, which I justified by saying, "I did not take the photo inside the cave. I took the photo on the outside looking in."
I was glad to have the opportunity to explore the caves by myself for some reflection time. Reflection on the trip and reflection once more for the blessings this earth has to share. It was up here when the song 'Amazing Grace' once more fluttered into my thoughts. Adventures like this where you meet with people believed to be different than yourself and you find instead that your similarities are abundant and the differences beautiful, are what life is all about. This is one of those trips that reinvigorates one's soul to the goodness of mankind and the beauty of this earth. We must protect, preserve, and promote both these lessons.
At last we had our long stretch of a drive and after a long day of hiking it was nap time! I worked on my blog for a short spell, but eventually my eyes grew tired once more.
Once I awoke we were in another city preparing to go to a market, no not the grand bazaar. We had time to kill before dinner and our later flight, so this was a good way to occupy the time. However, it had been raining so there was some discussion among us to see if we should go out or not. Walt's idea of a nice evening did not include shopping and getting wet simultaneously. I was up for any adventure, though I had no intention of making any purchase and eventually we did end up going to the market and of course, none of us bought anything.
The issues of my stomach pursued and I was not able to eat too much of anything, but I did sample the delicacies of the meal, the eating process of which the waiter demonstrated for us. It was fun having a procedure for eating and preparing the meal for consumption. I only wish I had been feeling better so that I could have gulped it all down.
Back in the van for the last time in this part of the country. We had an 11:00pm plane to catch.
Constantinople called.
Our flight out of a tiny little airport with 2 women's toilettes, one of which was completely useless to us foreigners who were (and remain to be) ignorant to the art of using the Turkish style toilettes.
When we arrived back at the dormitories where we first stayed it was almost like coming home. We all took big sighs of relief before tucking into bed after one in the morning. We had yet another big day ahead.
Until the next posting my dear readers,
Your humble and currently exhausted author,
S. Faxon
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