The Australian woman in the bus to Cappadocia was a former employer at the administration department of a university. She had thrown her whole life upside down when she got fired at the age of 58. ‘I’m gonna travel the world and nobody can stop me.’ she told me with devastating enthusiasm ‘After that who knows where?…’ I knew the answer, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment. After we had breakfast, we didn’t make a selfie, she didn’t hint for my Facebook account nor did she started following me on Instagram. I comforted myself that it was all due to a generation gap. She didn’t know better.
I went to Bruno. The best choice so far. He was French, absolutely fat, had a beard and long grey hair. He was great. He just sat and listened to your story. And when you finished a sentence and left a silence for him to reply, he said he understood. It was impossible to feel uncomfortable at his place. His house was always filled with Turkish youngsters and international couchsurfers for parties. Especially the hyperactive Rastaturk Jenner was good for the atmosphere.
The Balloon Ride I Didn’t Do
The awful thing about Cappadocia is that you are completely amazed by its beauty and then suddenly you see ten busses filled with American and Chinese tourists aiming their automatic Canons on their target and shoot at random. Bruno arranged that I could do a balloon tour for €65,- and I rejected it saying it was too expensive. Big mistake, because when will I get this chance again!? Anyway, I found a lot of great photo’s online that more or less covered the loss.
The great thing about Cappadocia is that it’s so big that there are many places where the buses can’t come or that are not interesting enough.
The Underground City and The Shaman Who Told Me He Was Dead
One of those places was Mazikoy, an underground city (there is one touristy, but one not touristy). I biked through the Gomere Valley. I got almost bored of the beauty around me. There used to live 200 people in that mountain. They had their own telecommunication system and lifts. Jenner told me that I should ask for a Shaman. He would take you to his house and you would smoke weed before entering the cave. When I arrived a man that should have been born in cubicle of a big office building invited me for a tour. Not really the Shaman I was hoping for. So I asked a guy who looked more like Jenner’s description. “I’m looking for the shaman who gives tours and smokes weed.” I said. “He’s dead” said the Shaman. “He is?” “Yes, he died nine months ago, there is his grave.” and pointed in the distance to validate his words. “My friend told me he was here last month.” I told the Shaman. His eyes were twinkling and with a mischievous grin he said: “No, he is dead. I am sorry, he doesn’t give tours anymore.” So I took the guide who couldn’t speak English. A fun fact about this village is that they buried their dead above the ground. Watch this video I made, I added some Israeli Psytrance so it feels like a real experience. I don’t know if smoking before entering was necessary.
Pigeon Valley and The Girl Who Sold Scarfs
She was sitting in front of a small tourist shop in Uchisar. It was not really a shop, she just sold stuff. She commanded me to sit down. And I did. She asked me if I were married. I said no. I asked her if she was married. She giggled: of course not! She was 18. Of course, I wanted to see her house. The house was built in the rock. It must have been 200 years at least. Everything was very modest, broken windows, creaking wooden doors, no bathroom. She talked about it with so much pride it was like she was on MTV cribs. It was most charming. They grew potatoes and tomatoes on the rooftop. Her room was really sweet, She had pictures of dogs and Ataturk. She told me I had green eyes, I told her she had seen correctly with her beautiful blue eyes and that it looked beautiful with her dark hair. When we were standing in her room I decided I wasn’t going to kiss her, although for the story it would’ve been great. Instead, I bought a scarf that she made herself. I put the scarf around my neck. She said ‘çok güzel’ one of my favourite words.
The Complot Against Erdogan and His Secret Agents
Jenner arrived the next morning with four beers. It was his birthday. We went to a pool that costed 7 euros after that we went to a hammam and I almost died. Afterwards, Jenner told me the guy couldn’t give me the real message because it was Ramadan. Serge and his brother arrived. His brother just came out from prison for being a pimp. It was corrupt as hell. His father is in the opposition and they want to ruin him. Also, they found a lot of prostitutes in their hotel with which they made lots of money, but that had nothing to do with being a pimp.
We went to some guys house to smoke some joints. They’ve been looking forward to this all day. Bruno had a Turkisch couchsurfer. He couldn’t join us because they accused him of being a secret agent of Erdogan. And after smoking the whole night I was so paranoid that I was convinced too and locked my door. Just in case.