turkey turkey dee, turkey turkey dap…i eat the turkey and i take a nap…
May 29th, 2009 | Written by hurricanic
Well, friends, we’re back from Cappadocia. Fo shiz. It’s officially my third favorite place I’ve ever, ever seen (third only to Venice and Prague). We hopped in a car yesterday morning and drove three and half hours to get there. The highlights? That we didn’t die on the way there, thanks to Curtis’ expert driving skills. And that I successfully conquered the squatty potty for the first time in my life.
The Turks are seriously INSANE on the road, I tell you. No one pays attention to the lines on the road. It’s like watching a school of fish swim. Three lanes become two, or four, depending upon the way the traffic needs to flow. And people…and bikers? They just do whatever they want. The drivers just have to adjust to the newest obstacles on the road. I think it’s amazing no one has died, in or outside of our car, in the last two days. Curtis says it’s like being in a real life video game. I say so long as you’re not in a real life video car crash, I’m fine with it.
The squatty potty? You just don’t want to know. The perk is probably that it’s a whole lot more sanitary. The downfall is the potential for peeing ON your pants becomes a lot higher. I have successfully, so far, managed to not make this blunder.
Okay…so we made it to the underground city in Derinkuyu. It’s pretty much a panic attack for any claustrophobic waiting to happen. Apparently, in and around the seventh century, villages would build underground habitats for themselves 20 stories below ground (around 40 meters deep) as refuges while they were under attack. Now, for only 15 lira, you can walk down and see where these people would hide out. You can duck through insanely low tunnels, climb down uber steep steps, and feel your lungs start to close in on themselves as you hope and pray it doesn’t decide to collapse, because surely at one point it will. The lower we got, the more I started to freak out. Not my finer moment, but I made it. It’s seriously amazing, but it will probably be something I only choose to see once in my life.
We headed to Goreme, the most beautiful of places I think I’ve seen so far in Turkey. We stayed in a cave hotel, which you would think might make me relive moments from Derinkuyu…but we had a window in our room so I was okay. The veranda up top was so beautiful we grabbed a bottle of wine and enjoyed the brisk Turkish air (until the wild and crazy hour of 10:30 p.m.) on a sofa made for four. There, Curtis, Annie, Krista (a friend of theirs from Adana who joined us for this trip), and I laughed, drank, and publicly spooned to keep ourselves warm. It made for only one or two slightly awkward moments when other hotel guests walked by, but you do what you gotta do when it’s cold. I came here thinking it would be 100 degrees and last night? I needed a sweatshirt.
This morning we awoke and headed to the Goreme Open Air Museum. There we saw the fifth camel of the trip and successfully gave the words to “My Humps” by the Black Eyed Peas a run for their money. The camel almost bit Krista’s dad when he went to pet it. Angry camel. Crazy camel. Maybe he wasn’t humored by all our “I’m gonna get you, get you drunk, get you love drunk off my humps” comments. We thought it was funny. I would’ve gladly paid the 15 lira (does everything cost 15 lira?) to get a little ride on those lovely camel lumps, but check it out…when you go almost biting Krista’s dad finger when all he wanted to do was give you some luvin’, I say, “No, no, no, no, don’t funk with my heart”. I’ll take my 15 lira and go elsewhere. Sadly, I report, I am in Turkey and have not ridden a camel yet.
So the Open Air Museum, apart from the camel, proved to be both lovely and fascinating. It used to be a monastery in the ninth century. And where was America in the ninth century? Anyone? Anyone? Here, in these cave structures, there are amazing frescoes telling the stories of the life of Jesus. I think it’s hilarious that frescoes are paintings made of pigeon poo, so said our wonderful tour guide. With a thick Turkish accent, and perhaps an attempt at cultural connection, I first heard this as “pigeon sheets”. Doesn’t take long to understand what he really meant. So thank you, pigeons and your excrement, for giving us what the ninth century monks needed to create art that still tells a timeless story.
Our afternoon consisted of me wearing MC Hammer pants while recreating the movie “Ghost”. Only, well, I didn’t get to make out with Patrick Swayze in the process. We went to a local potter and I was able to sit at the wheel and create a flower pot. I rocked that flower pot. And those Hammer pants. And I have the pictures to prove it. After leaving the pottery joint, we headed to see Fairy Chimneys…more bizarre rock structures…where the most exciting part of our journey lead us to a free roaming, mangy camel (bringing the count to six) waiting to give us yet more opportunity to sing “My Humps.” (We passed a seventh camel and gave the joke a rest.) Then we drove on to see even more bizarre rock structures, these in the forms of the Virgin Mary and, you guessed it, a camel (bringing the count to “kind of” eight)…giving us even more opportunity to drive our joke into the ground. We have, quite successfully, gotten love drunk off these humps.
Tonight, upon return to Adana, we indulged in Adana Kabob. It was insanely good. And now we’re so full and tired from the last two days, we’re going to sleep the night away to make sure we’re rested for our trip to the Mediterranean tomorrow. Annie is telling me she needs to do some expectation management about the Mediterranean. In her own words, “I mean…the sea is beautiful, but some of the beaches leave something to be desired. I’m just saying.” In my own words? “Shut up, Annie. I’m headed to the freaking Mediterranean tomorrow. Don’t ruin this for me.”
squatty potty or “popping a squat?”