Status Update

moved to Musical Chairs.

Shuttling between East and West

It's more because I've got some time to kill than for any other reason that I get on the bus to Doğubayazıt, about 2.5 hrs from Van near the Iranian border. Supposedly there's a beautiful palace there, and the trip can be done in one day. To my surprise the road is quite good and I really arrive by noon in the nice little town, set at the foot of Mount Ararat. I take a dolmuş to İshak Paşa Sarayı, and driving up the serpentine road I'm deeply impressed by the sublime elegance of the palace's architecture. It is set on top of a rocky hill, built of sandy stone and perfectly complies with every Westerner's cliché of the Orient of Thousand and One Nights.

On my way back to the town I get drawn into a carpet store and prepare myself for the game of bargaining, offering and refusing. But instead I have a nice talk with the shop's owner Osman and his friend Hakan about life, arts, palaces and anything else but carpets.
"Why don't you stay in Doğubayazıt today?" asks Osman. "We're having a party tonight at a friend's hotel. You can see some Kurdish culture and have fun."
"Sounds good," I say, slightly hesitating as I have to live on a budget and don't know how much that will cost me.
"Don't worry, you'll be our guest," adds Hakan. "We know that you don't have any money to spend."

In the afternoon Osman drives me around and shows me the site where some people believe Noah's Arch to have stranded. An unusual rock formation with the measures of the Arch as denoted in the Bible bolsters that assumption.
"Later on the Arch somehow moved from here closer to Mount Ararat, but noone knows how," tells Osman pointing to the massive mountain with its peak covered with permanent snow. "Frankly, I don't believe that."
"Neither do I."
We laugh and decide to smoke a cigarette.
"By the way, I really like you," Osman says. "Do you want to be my girlfriend?"
I shake my head.
"Why not? Don't you like me?"
"It's a bit fast for me. I met you just two hours ago," I say.
He doesn't seem to regard that as a convincing argument.
"You don't have a boyfriend, I'm not married, you're pretty, what's the problem?" Osman asks.
"I just don't want to."
He hangs the head: "I'm an unfortunate man."

We drive back through a beautiful hilly landscape, past some Kurdish villages. Children wave their hands and call out as they see the car, and dogs huge as calves follow us barking and growling. We arrive at sunset at "Murat Camping", set just beneath the palace, and have dinner and beer on a kösk overlooking the valley of Doğubayazıt.


Then the party starts. Hakan, who is a great singer, restlessly performs Turkish and Kurdish songs, accompanied by another musician on the synthesiser. The music is powerful and energetic, very different from the usually sad, pathetic Turkish pop music that prevails in Western Turkey. Two friends of Osman's invite us to their table und take care that my glass is always full with Raki. People start performing the traditional Kurdish dance, taking each other by their little fingers and bouncing forwards and backwards in a circle that is getting bigger and bigger as more and more people join the dancing. There's a group of Turkish mountaineers from Ankara who don't get bothered by Kurdish culture lived to the full. Instead, some of them get into the circle and turn out to be amongst the best dancers.


"Why don't you stay here?", asks Osman's friend. "You could easily find a job as you know English and German."
"I've already got a flight to Izmir tomorrow," say I, which doesn't sound like a proper reason even to me. I really like Doğubayazıt and find the idea of living in such an exotic place quite thrilling.

However, I get on the bus back to Van the next day to fly to Western Turkey. The other night I spend dancing to Turkish pop and American rock music in a posh club at the seashore in Cesme, where girls dressed to kill mix with drunk British tourists. After my fourth 10 Lira-beer I start philosophizing about airplanes, these wonders of modern technology that enable us to switch between two completely different worlds within less than 24 hours. And I ask myself what it is that makes me return to places where I feel uncomfortable wearing jeans and T-shirt amidst painted faces and decorated bodies. As a matter of fact I liked the Kurdish party better. But at the same time I felt much more insecure there than I do here, where I know the rules.

Four people in a car in a volcano

Telling that I'm going to take a bus from Antalya to Van in Eastern Turkey I usually get the reaction of "Are you insane?". It will take me more than a day to cross Central Anatolia, but I'm excited about travelling across that vast high plateau and seeing a part of the country I haven't seen so far. In fact it turns out to be a really nice trip. Just a bit long. Right after Bingöl there's nothing left that one could call a proper road, and after 27 hours on a bus I'm quite fed up with travelling.

In Van I meet Julana, Nick and David. We spend the night in a cheap and dirty hotel and rent a car the next day to drive around Lake Van, the biggest lake in Turkey and - according to a local guide book - the whole world. The surrounding landscape is beautiful and bewildering at the same time: dry brown land, dusty air, and soft hills that look like resting hands or dogs made of sand. During the next two days we visit the Armenian church on Akdamar island, some random Seljuk tombs and a graveyard, castles and a waterfall. The highlight of our trip is the volcano Mount Nemrut (not the famous one!) about 13 km from Tatvan. Driving into its crater at sunset we find an overwhelmingly dramatic scenery with two lakes amidst wide grasslands, surrounded by stony slopes. We decide to come back the following day, have a swim in the warmer of the two lakes (which turns out not to be warm at all) and a picnic in one of the cafés at its shores. Due to the height (more than 3.000 metres) and the lack of sleep I feel so flabby that even drinking the unavoidable Nescafé by the gallon doesn't help. We all agree that early evening is the best time to visit the less-famous Mount Nemrut and drive off.

We spend one night in Tatvan, a small town at the Northern shore of Lake Van, that charms with the same rugged appearance like its bigger counterpart Van, reminding of towns in former Soviet republics. Luckily we stay in a hotel that is just around the corner of the only bar in town, a concrete terrace illuminated by red lights and decorated with oddish fantasy-like pictures. We're not so sure whether we're in a bar or in a brothel, and the men at the table in the corner are not exactly inspiring confidence.
"Maybe one of us should stay sober," I suggest, giggling hysterically and taking my first sip of Rakı.
"Ok, I'll wait 15 minutes before I drink my beer," says David.
After my first drink I feel safer and start liking the bizarre atmosphere of that bar. We discuss the advantages and disadvantages of eternal life and the reasons for drinking - in fine: a normal night out, just in a strange place.

On our last day in Van we have the famous breakfast at Kahvaltıcılar Sokak, a lively cobblestone-street full of plastic chairs and tables and moustached men, directing the customers to a free place. Our table brims over with different kinds of cheese, scrambled eggs, fresh vegetables and local sweets - it's more than enough, and reasonably priced to this. In general we find that people here are very generous with food and drinks, and money seems not to have such a big role. Handing us over a bill of 23 Lira the waiter says: "Let's say twenty, that's alright!"



Then Nick and David set off to the airport to fly back to Istanbul, and Julana buys her bus ticket to Diyarbakır, whereas I feel confused about where to go next. Having a beer at the litter-strewn shore of Lake Van, Julana and I agree that Van is not the best place to get stuck, and even though it exceeds my budget a little bit I buy a flight ticket to İzmir, back to Southern Turkey.

Working Class Heroes

Setting: the "Fullmoon Hotel", a run-down, three-storey concrete building a bit outside the cosy little town of Kaş in Southern Turkey. In front of the hotel entrance there are stairs that lead towards a swimming pool with a water slide. This is where the hotel's staff usually gathers, nibbling sunflower seeds and moaning about the lack of money or the bosses' behaviour.

Characters: Gülhan Hanım - boss no. 2, a beautiful but crazy woman in her mid-fifties; stalking around in highheels, smoking one cigarette after another and bawling at the personnel; dresses up and decorates herself with jewelry in the evening, then sits in front of the entrance for two or three hours, smoking some more cigarettes
Zeynep - Gülhan's youngest child, a seven years old girl; sweet but spoilt
Erol Abi - the hotel's manager; a fat and simple man; usually sits half-naked next to the entrance, smoking cigarettes and having a scratch
Esma - a young manic woman who lives in the hotel for free as Erol is in love with her; of course, she doesn't return his affection but instead keeps crying for some Ahmet each time she gets drunk
Serap Abla - receptionist; struggling hard to provide the guests with rooms with both working air conditioning and television
Mustafa Bey - gardener and caretaker; an old elegant man who wants to marry Serap
Oktay - barman; a good-looking, charismatic Southern-Turkish macho
Gökhan - barman; a relaxed, likable guy; calls himself a communist and gives a shit on social conventions
Osman - a 15 years old Kurdish boy; in charge of the reception during the night
Hasan - Osman's cousin; slim, shy boy; helps cleaning the rooms
Hüseyin - an always stupidly smiling village boy, works in the kitchen
and me - chambermaid; running up and down the stairs, trying to tidy up the chaos that the guests have left

Story: The "Fullmoon Hotel" has significant financial problems as there are not enough customers - for a good reason: the mattresses in the rooms are worn, the toilets and showers don't work properly and half of the air cons are out of order. The bosses keep yelling at the personnel, and the staff is unhappy. Working conditions are bad, the payment is low, the food is cheap. The storyline is centered around the vespertine gatherings on the stairs in front of the hotel entrance. It is here where the characters talk about their dreams and frustrations.

Gülhan Hanım can't cope with aging and envies the younger women in the hotel. She hopelessly spoils her daughter Zeynep, who already behaves bossily towards the personnel and starts crying and screaming each time she doesn't get what she wants. Erol Abi keeps trying to get Esma laid, and Mustafa Bey wants to talk Serap Abla into marrying him. Both attempts are unsuccessful. Oktay and Gökhan are students from İzmir who want to earn some money during the summer break. They are both incredibly lazy and sleep behind the bar all day long. It is Osman who has drawn the short straw and who especially the bosses always dump it on. Serap Abla and me feel very sorry for him and feed him with chips and ice-cream in return. Hasan arrives at the hotel a little later to help me. He adores Oktay for his being outspoken and energetic and tries to copy him. Hüseyin is treated as favourite by Gülhan and at odds with the rest of the personnel, especially Oktay, who as a hot-blooded southerner can't control his aggression.

The story reaches its first climax at a meeting in Erol Abi's office. To make an example of him Erol Abi rips up Osman's T-Shirt in front of the whole staff. The boy has worn a shirt with a hole in the sleeve which Erol didn't appreciate at all. Serap Abla and me are shocked and in the evening me gets drunk and blathers on about discrimination and worker's rights. The rest of the staff leaves in irritation. Me jumps into the swimming pool and sings the Internationale.

A second climax unfolds as the staff doesn't get paid in time. The ambience is dull and everybody sinks into depression. Osman, who had planned to visit his family in Diyarbakır, is forced to stay and keep working, same as Oktay and Gökhan, who want to run away as soon as they get their wages. Again, me comes up with the so-called worker's rights (these strange Europeans seem to be obsessed by that!) and calls out on strike. The personnel meets up in the evening to discuss this proposal. While the Kurds are with me the Turks are hesitating. It is Gökhan who brings matters to a head by stating: "Burası Türkiye!" - This is Turkey, things are different here.

In the closing scene, the staff is seen chasing a chicken for dinner.

Along the Lycian Trail

One early morning I take my backpack, leave a short note on the kitchen table and set off into the mountains to never come back - something I'll deeply regret a couple of hours later, but for the time being I feel happy and free. I stumble along the Lycian Trail, a footpath stretching about 500 km from Fethiye to Antalya through the ancient land of Lycia on the Turkish Aegean Sea. As I feel in full feather and like a real adventurer I consider walking all the way to Kaş, where a friend of mine is staying at her summer house at the moment.

"That will take you about two weeks," say some young Turkish walkers who I meet on my way up the mountain. They share their breakfast with me and show me the route on their map - confronting me with my being completely unprepared for such an extensive trekking tour.
"When did you start walking?", they ask me.
"This morning," I say.
They nod and smile encouragingly.
"You don't have a tent?"
I shake my head.
"Do you have a mosquito net with you then?"
"Yes," I lie.
"And the scorpions don't crawl inside?"
(Scorpions?)
"No, haven't seen any so far."

I walk to the village of Alınca along a stony, narrow path through a mountainous scenery with amazing views over the Turquoise Coast. I'm soaked with sweat as I reach the peak and it begins to dawn on me that I probably better not hike all the way to Kaş but just to the next bus stop - which takes me about three hours. It's hot and I know that I'll have a terrible sunburn that evening, but I enjoy hiking through the beautiful, hilly Southern Turkish landscape. I reach the main road that leads along the coast from Fethiye to Antalya and get on a bus without knowing whether I'm really welcome at my friend's house. They arrived just the day before and I think I'm actually being quite impolite to literally knock at their door without even calling in. But Isolde turns out to be much less complicated than I'd be in such a situation. She smiles and hugs me, and houses me immediately in their guest room.

The following days I have a revival of a proper family holiday. I go walking in the hills around Kaş with Isolde and her husband Diether, who turns out to be an expert in inscriptions on Lycian tombs. While stumbling across stony fields and along rocky paths in the hot midday sun Diether explains me a lot about this ancient culture that populated the area from as early as 1500 BC to 550 BC. According to wikipedia, the Lycian League was the first federation in the world with democratic principles which later influenced the United States Constitution. The most impressive remains of that culture are situated near the beautiful sandy beach of Patara: an old amphitheatre, a promenade and several bunches of stones that might have been former mansions or administrative buildings.

In the afternoons we lie at one of the picturesque beaches around Kaş and in the evenings we have dinner and Rosé on the balcony. And after five days I also find a new job: I'll start my new career as a cleaning lady in the run-down "Fullmoon Hotel" the next day.