Put this on our bucket list! I insist..

Ephesus, Göreme and Gallipoli

Put these on your bucket list! I insist…

Well Ephesus and Göreme for sure, Gallipoli only if you have a keen interest in World War I or are Australian.

Göreme would be without a doubt my favourite out of the three. The day before I left for Turkey, my friend Sharlene Versfeld demanded I stop here, and reluctantly I did. And for that I am eternally grateful!

The landscape is fascinating. The entire area has a mystical hobbit feel to it. You walk around the town or shire half expecting to set eyes on Gandalf or Bilbo. The Nevşehir Province is made up of these dainty cone shaped mountains that all look like fairy chimneys.

The reason for my most recent trip to Turkey was for the FIBA Basketball World Championship for Women. The games were being played in the capital Ankara, a gateway into Cappadocia.  Being based in a big city for six days, I was delighted to discover the tournament followed theatre etiquette and had no games on the Monday night.

I took this opportunity to escape. First thing on Monday morning a hasty yellow cab spat me out at the enormous bus terminal or the AŞTİ in Ankara. I cruised the counters looking for Süha Turizm, a bus company that would take me to the small town, Göreme, a five hour bus ride away.

Göreme is a historic region and is a recognised UNESCO World Heritage Site. The first chronicled inhabitants of the area were Christians during the Roman period and they lived in square carved-out caves usually impressively high up in the cone shaped mountains. Inspired by this knowledge, I opted to dwell in a cave for my one night there, it was simply called the Traveller’s Cave Hotel and for 55Euro B&B, was an affordable experience. Bekir, the hotel owner also kindly shuttled you up the steep hill from the bus stop. From the reception to my room I ambled down 91 steps to my room.

This magical town is easy to navigate, with two main roads bisecting each other. After checking in, I deposited my bags and went walk about. Following the route the shuttle had taken me, I strolled down to the main part of town. Turning left into the next main road, I headed out of town towards the hills to Pigeon Valley. After a decent hike and a bit of rock climbing I literally had a bird’s eye view overlooking all of Göreme.

On my way back I stopped for an early dinner at a spot called One Way. I was eager to try the meal Cappadocia was renowned for, a dish simply called pottery kebab. It came in an enclosed clay pot which the waiter broke open with a small hammer. It was served with rice and a simple garden salad. Delicious!

As night settled in, the peaceful experience of the sun setting was interrupted by keen photographer’s flashes going off. But once the sun had set, the fairy chimneys became more mystical bathed in yellow lights. Some from large spot lights illuminating the hills and others from the huddles of abodes cut into the rocks.

Sunrise greeted early risers, most of them taking the opportunity to float above the chimneys in hot air balloons. The sandstone colour scheme had patches of brightly coloured balloons hovering above them. The experience cost 120Euros through Bekir. Other adventures on offer were quad biking, horse riding, cycling and hiking.

At breakfast, the Turkish lady on duty insisted I have a traditional start to my day. It consisted of a waffle-like pancake with a local version of Nutella. The usual Turkish breakfast options were also available of cheeses and breads.

My highlight in Göreme was cave crashing. I spent several hours walking in the opposite direction to where I had been the previous afternoon, following signs for the Rock Churches. After spending ages in the El Nazar Kilisesi keenly looking at the beautiful cave paintings, I roamed the surrounding area discovering more caves with humble paintings that were just left open to the elements. The former tenants had chipped away steps to their front doors, so with a bit of clambering, you could get in. Each cave had a different feel to it, some with crumbling pillars others with real pigeon holes, small little rooms sprouting off the main living area. All of these had their own simple paintings on the walls, nothing as detailed as the churches, but enchanting none the less.

Next stop, Ephesus. This ancient place is remarkable, picturesque and majestically beautiful, an ancient Greek city that started taking shape in the 10century BC, and then ‘modernised’ by the Romans around 130BC. It is near the coast of Ionia on the Asian side of Turkey, a stone throw away from Greece and its capital Athens.

Like Göreme, my trip to Ephesus was brief. The ruins of Ephesus are a hot favourite tourist attraction and contain the largest collection of Roman ruins in the eastern Mediterranean. Researching Ephesus, words such as flourished, attacked, conquered, destroyed, raided and damaged all jump out at you and standing in amongst the ruins it is hard to imagine all the blood that has spilt in this wonderful area.

Listening to the various tour guides directing large groups of people, they explained that only a fraction of the ruins have been excavated and there is still so much more preserved under the surrounding hills. The entire area is hugely attractive in its history but moments that stood out for me would have to be visiting the original public toilets, the massive and impressive amphitheatre that up until recently hosted live performances, big names like Sting, Pavarotti, Elton John and Ray Charles have graced the stage. The old harbour road and the road leading to the library that is rumoured to have housed all the best retail shops.

An outline of a foot carved into the marble promenade outside the brothels indicating if the customer was man enough to spend time with the ladies. If your foot was smaller than that etched out yard stick, unlucky! The library of Celsus standing in all its glory was fabulous to see. Standing in front of its massive facade I stood in awe admiring the architecture, the details just exquisite. The library used to house 12,000 scrolls and now is home to Celsus who is buried in a sarcophagus beneath the library.

If you have time, the House of the Virgin Mary and the Temple of Artemis are well worth a visit. Both are a short drive away from Ephesus. The House of Virgin Mary has a steady flow of pilgrims passing through it. The shrine itself is not extensively large, but can be best described as a modest chapel. Outside the shrine is the Wishing Wall where pilgrims leave behind their personal intentions on paper or fabric and tie it onto this wall. 

Nowadays, The Temple of Artemis has just a few marble pillars standing lonely in a field on the outskirts of Ephesus. With a bit of imagination you can picture what it must have looked like in its heyday. Most of the temple is on display in British Museums, the site was pillaged in the 60s and the temple was transported by rail to England. 

Finally Gallipoli, directly translated means beautiful city. I accidentally spent a day touring around here in winter. The seaside city was the venue to the great Battle of Gallipoli in World War 1 that lasted 8 months.  The battle is regarded as a defining moment in the nation’s history, the struggle forming the bases for the Turkish War of Independence.

Spotted around are various memorials and burial grounds that are immaculately maintained. Walking around, you find yourself looking up to a massive ANZAC memorial and then further along, standing in actual trenches. 100,000 lives were lost on this peninsula. Littered in the strait there is supposedly 216 French, British and Italian vessels that were sunk and now are fabulous to explore, even for inexperienced divers.

If you find yourself in these parts, be sure to make a detour. It is an affordable trip down a variety of historic lanes.

·         Travelling by bus to Göreme, make sure your bus ticket clearly states the destination as they often deposit you in Nevşehir, a rather costly alternative route that is half an hour away.

·         If you book directly through the website for the Traveller’s Cave Hotel you get 10% discount.

·         Göreme isn’t the most friendly place for wheel chair visitors.

·         Pegasus Airlines flies just outside of Ephesus from Istanbul, and booking in advance you can pick up really good deals.

Kamil Kaya from Hotel Sultan’s Inn in Istanbul can organise tours to both Ephesus and Gallipoli

The Way

The peace and tranquillity of being outdoors, far away from civilisation is soul cleansing and such is the case as you spend time trekking along the Camino de Santiago or The Way of St James.

The Camino is an ancient Catholic pilgrimage in the north of Spain. The main route is usually from the South of France from the town of San Sebastian, nestled in the French Pyrenees and heads west to the awe-inspiring cathedral in the historic town of Santiago de Compostela, close to the Atlantic Ocean on the west coast of Spain. Nowadays a variety of routes can lead you to the cathedral and some pegrenos opt to continue their voyage and go further, catching a glimpse of the mighty Atlantic Ocean.

Everyone’s Camino starts in a different place and everyone’s reason for walking the Camino is as individual as the characters you stumble upon. I met several people who had left their homes months ago, all with the personal aim of landing up in Santiago de Compostela. A couple had spent months cycling from Sweden using different modes of transport to carry them and their hardy bicycles ever nearer, as did a retired wine grower from the North of Italy and an Austrian I met in Santiago, having left in the midst of winter and pedalled the entire way.

The most common way to tackle the Camino is the century old tried and tested hike, but nowadays you can also cycle it or mount a trusty steed to carry you to Santiago, the frowned upon version of driving it is also an option. You carry all your own gear, so packing intelligently and light are essential but stopping for food is a sociable way to meet people.

We had descended on Leon as this was the vibrant hub of all the main transport stops, staying the night before our travels would begin. Home of the most intricate stained glass cathedral in the world, Leon had an inviting European old town feel to it. Soaking up each dappled ray of light that fell from the magnificent centuries old windows was breath-taking and hours ticked by as we slowly circumnavigated the interior.

Cathedrals were the original albergues that housed pegrenos on their epic trail to Santiago; they used to travel from village to village, spending the nights in a house of God. Now-a-days it is totally different experience with a variety of accommodation options in some villages, although the reasoning for forging onwards still remains the same.

For us, we started at arguably the best spot, in the village of Astorga. We spent some time at the Catedral de Santa María de Astorga, admiring yet another feat of Spanish architecture. Time marched on encouraging us to hunt for the pilgrims’ friend, the yellow arrow or sign which would immediately point us in the right direction and continue to guide us to Santiago.

On departing, the horizon glistened with snow-capped peaks, but the weather was a contrasting gloriously warm spring day, the Europeans claiming this spring weather to be a heat wave.

When you are marching forward over a smorgasbord of terrain, for long stretches you have only the chirping birds and sound of your pounding feet hitting the gravel as company. Occasionally you would hear a Buen Camino which would jolt you back to reality as a cyclist would whiz past. This was the greeting and well-wishing or honoured code between pilgrims.

The landscape was ever changing, you would determinedly climb Tour De France like hills, or cruise through lavender lined level dusty paths or amble down steep rocky inclines, but all of it offered the most inspiring breath taking scenery. Some sections you would trudge along tar roads or wander along lush vegetation with a gargling stream flowing next to you or saunter beneath these huge viaducts that soared high above you carrying fast paced vehicles to their destinations. Your surroundings constantly changed, keeping the expedition refreshing and interesting.

Each day, as I looked at the horizon, the dominating whiteness on the mountains decreased and in its place a palette of changing colours, an artist’s dream. I would pause, imagining paths obstructed with easels as painters captured the glorious spring colours as they emerged after their hibernation.

Each town or village that you meandered through had its own feel. We passed derelict villages with ancient stone buildings all slowly crumbling to the ground. On one day we passed two villages, the first situated on a steep winding hill, this village had six inhabitants who had set up shop purely to support the passing pilgrims, offering food and liquid refreshments. The second was in a state of disrepair, two chaps were up on a step ladder weaving leaves together creating shade high above us. They had a pole with a number of large towns being pointed to, the little pointers giving you a rough guide to the distance to each of these places,  Paris 1,000km, New York many more. These two chaps were admirably breathing life back into this place, not having any running water and only recently connecting up to electricity. Observing the surrounds, it looked like the house that they were working on was the only habitable place in the village, with tumbled down stone buildings littering the surrounds.

The highlight for me would have to be the Monastery built in the 6^th Century, having spent the night in Hospital, a few days out from Sarria, at this stage I was travelling with Marc from Belgium and Gary from America. Gary insisted we stop in at the Benedictine Monastery of San Xuliam de Samos in the village of Samos and we managed to catch the tail end of the service.

Sitting at the back we followed all the prompts from the small congregation, standing or kneeling. The priest beautifully sang through a list of saints and then concluded the service. This was the biggest Western Monastery in the world according to Gary. What was really quirky about this town was at the entrance to the town, a small single pump petrol station rescued passing vehicles from dehydration. Towering over the petrol station was the enormous walls of the monastery, and as a car pulled into the bay, a monk wandered out to help.

Another memorable moment was the Iron Cross on the summit of Monte Irago, the cross soars high above a cairn of pebbles, each one individually laid by a pilgrim. The mound of pebbles each represent a wish, a dream, a problem, a failure or a secret and it is Camino tradition to pause here tossing your pebble onto the pile, releasing your burden. Regardless of what people tell you, tossing the stone onto this pile representing so much to so many is completely emotional.

The Camino charges your batteries in so many ways, you hopefully find answers to the questions that were being asked at the beginning of the voyage, and you are invigorated by nature – some people having spent six weeks or longer having the honour of being a pegreno. Everyone prefers to be by themselves, after all, for the majority of pegrenos this is a solo trip and have the joy of travelling at their own pace but you meet some truly humble people. The conversations are intense, somehow missing all the flimsy small talk that we all begin with. 

I caught a train to Santiago, having the fortune of staying one night in this dazzling place. I dumped my bags and wandered across in search of the Cathedral. I glided over cobbled small roads and eventually made the discovery. I entered into the square and was struck by the immense overpowering beauty of the cathedral. I sat for ages, gazing up at the magnitude of the church spirals, the windows, the guardians and statues looking down on the square, taking in as much of the details as I could. I then strolled to a nearby outdoor cafe, relishing a Spanish black rice paella and then made my way back to the cathedral to see it in all its beauty showered by lights at night.

The next day, I went back but this time to soak up the atmosphere. I sat observing the pilgrims as they entered the square. Some punched the air in absolute achievement, some collapsed in a heap sobbing, and others successfully embraced their new found friends. The air was charged with a mixture of emotion as a wonderful journey ended and also began.

The Camino, every moment of it is special, every moment of it is treasured. It is an odyssey where you discover so much about yourself, Buen Camino!