Arriving in Turkey for the first time feels a lot like arriving in Italy, Spain or Greece. Old-world Mediterranean. After Asia and Africa, the cobblestoned streets and cafes, vineyards and olive groves all seemed to whisper “…you’re back in the west, now. Those other places were cool, but this civilization is your own. Welcome home.”
It has that romantıc feeling. It makes sense – Istanbul was the capital of the Roman empire for almost a thousand years.
The country is crammed with glorious ruins – more Roman ruins than Italy, more Greek ruins than Greece. The footpaths are littered with ancient pottery shards and chunks of classical sculpture, all overgrown wıth wildflowers and fruit trees.
It’s no longer as cheap as it was, but if you’ve ever had that “Year in Provence” fantasy of owning and renovatıng a charming old villa on a hill, surrounded by your own olıves, grapes and oranges, with maybe a nice view of the Mediterranean in the distance, it’s stıll affordable in Turkey.
It irks the Turks that the world thinks of tulips as a Dutch thing. The tulip is Turkey’s national flower. Their tea cups are all tulip shaped, and tulip patterns blanket the old Byzantine art and mosque walls.
Every April they plant four million tulip bulbs all over Istanbul. It’s a psychedelic experience to taxi in from the airport and encounter miles of brilliant tulips everywhere you look. It makes an amazing first impression.
Then you encounter the Turks, and get an even better second impression. They’re warm and friendly, kind to tourists (and to each other) and surprisingly easy-going and funny. You’ll be walking down the street, savoring the aromas of shish kebab, turkish coffee and baklava, maybe admiring the rug displays.
The shop keepers will (like everywhere) try to entice you in: Hello my friend, which country you from? Congratulations, you have found me! Today you are my lucky first customer, I make special price for you! Ah, you are from California…LA or San Francisco? I have a cousin in Sacramento, would you lıke some nice apple tea? It’s free to look, I have very good quality. If you go Cappadocia, maybe you like visit my mother?
They love the banter, and they’re good at it. Unlike Southeast Asıa, India or Egypt, they do it wıth grace and wit – and they’ll take no for an answer – they won’t hound you mercilessly all the way down the block. They’ll just smile and say okay, maybe later, please remember me. It makes you want to reward them. Walking the streets is fun. Everyone serves you free apple tea.
Turkey is the center of the old world. One foot in Europe, one in Asia. Africa and the Middle East are just over the horizon, Russıa, Iran and Iraq just next door. To be a Turk is to be a mongrel. Everyone took turns conquering the place, so some of the people look like Ghengis Khan, some look like Vikings. They are all fiercely patriotic (flags and pıctures of Ataturk are everywhere) and proud to be part of the special Turkish blend.
The historical attractions are ridiculously plentiful. In the ruins of Troy, blood-red poppies cluster where Achilles slew Hector.
After Christ’s death, his mother Mary lived out her days in a small home near Ephesus – today it looks a lot like a small Napa winery.
The list goes on and on – the ruins at Ephesus, the battle field of Gallipoli (Turkey, Australia and New Zealand all trace theır nationhood to this spot), Istanbul’s stunning Blue Mosque and Hagia Sofia, Noah’s ark’s mountain and three of the seven wonders of the ancient world. There is so much to see that it’s common to hear the tourists complain of cultural overload.
For me, the greatest attraction was the beauty of the coastline (Big Sur rugged, creamsicle-colored cliffs over turquoise waters, a thousand islands) and countryside (jagged mountains separating Sonoma-like valleys).
There are only six agriculturally self-sufficient countries in the world, and Turkey is one of them. They are blessed with a lovely, rich and productive land.
Ours was the standard tourist itinerary: a few days in Istanbul (the biggest city in Europe, looks like SF with mosques) then down to Gallipoli, the ruins at Troy and Ephesus,
a few days chillıng at the lovely small fishing village of Bozburan,
a four-day boat trip down the coast (that’s us on the left – me in the Mary Poppins hat), a few days at a hippy hang-out in Olympos,
and finishing up in the bizarre Flintstones-like geographical whimsy of Cappadocia.
It’s so easy and fun to travel in Turkey. The roads are good if you want to rent a car (although gas is brutally expensive), but the bus system is excellent; reliable, comfortable, frequent and cheap. Everyone helps you. The hotels are friendly, clean, plentiful and reasonably priced – they all offer free breakfast (always the same – wonderful olives, tomatoes, cucumbers, feta cheese, bread, honey, tea/coffee and usually a boiled egg – and every meal comes with a bottomless basket of soft french-style bread) and they’ll set up your travel for you – bus tickets, reservations, tours, etc.
Turkey is not all Turkish Delight, of course. The society ıs divided: Muslim/secular, urban/rural, modern/traditional. In tourist areas the young Turks are as stylish as young Italians, but parts of the eastern countryside are as backward as nearby Iran. Like other muslim countries, the call to prayer wakes you at 4:30 am every morning, so proximity to mosques is a key factor when selecting a hotel. Turkey is a fantastic place to visit. I can’t wait to go back.
Wandering the World 