For the first crossing, the very considerate Bulgarian border police came to each carriage to collect the passports and whispered so as not to wake the kids. He then returned them about half an hour later. At the Turkish border, at around 00:30, we had to take ourselves and all our luggage out onto the freezing platform and make our way to the passport control. The police officer took ages to arrive, leading to Daniel having a teary sense of humour failure over having been woken up to stand around waiting in the cold. We were saved by a screaming baby, who prompted the officials to usher all families with children to the front. We had our passports stamped, bags x-rayed (not that anyone was watching the screen) and were back on the train. We managed a few hours of sleep before we were woken up just outside Istanbul. Not a great experience, but we made it ok.

Istanbul

The train stops at a station about 25km west of Istanbul, so we had to navigate our way onto another train to get into town. Here we experienced the first of many instances of Turkish generosity and kindness. A station cleaner was standing at the ticket kiosk, voluntarily helping out all the clueless tourists to buy tickets and find their way – such an enthusiastic and helpful guy! At the next station we again relied on the kindness of a local to point us in the right direction to find our way onto the right tram. We wound our way up through the old part of Istanbul along cobbled streets and past loads of colourful sweet stands and curio shops, and after a short walk we located our accommodation in a quaint little street in Sultanahmet. We gratefully dropped our bags, as the local muezzins from about a dozen mosques out-called each other, from minarets and through loudspeakers, in an amazing blend of sound.

After a disturbed night on the train, we all crashed for a few hours of much needed sleep. Not feeling up to a full city tour, we opted for a short walk up to the Grand Bazaar. Our trip took us up through the shoe manufacturing district, where every stage of shoe production was visible through the widows. The bazaar was a bit of a sensory overwhelm, with dazzling colours, delicious smells, a lot of noise and streams of people, despite the chilly weather. The shop sellers were enthusiastic in their approaches, but definitely not as pushy as those in Egypt. We thought it wise to wait before buying anything and settled for some delicious pomegranate and pistachio Turkish Delight. 

The Haircut

Both Daniel and I had been overdue for a haircut, but Nicola had insisted that we wait until Turkey to get a proper Turkish barber experience. Just up the street  we spotted as good a place as any (there are hundreds of barbers in Istanbul) and ventured in. After a short negotiation (which I lost), we sat down for the treatment. Mine, needless to say, was over relatively quickly, but was a novel experience of having my ears waxed (ouch!) and head and ears washed by the burly barber (I declined having my nose hairs waxed, and the flaming ear hair torch). The whole family was also treated to Turkish tea – served black and sweet in small curved glass cups. The Turks are the only people on earth who drink more tea than the Thoughtsmiths directors…

Then it was Daniel's turn. The barber was skilled and efficient, transforming Daniel’s mop into a stylish cut. Daniel sat there stoically, not letting his horror show on his face. Once it was over he jumped off the chair, exited the barber shop  and collapsed into a flood of tears. He absolutely hated it. It took about half an hour to pick up the pieces, but he refused to go anywhere without a hat on and swore not to talk to Nicola for a week.

 Our next stops at the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia were a bit of a damp squib, partly because the Blue Mosque was closed for renovation and the line for the Hagia Sophia was unplayably long, but also because of Daniel’s foul mood. This was partly improved by the purchase of ‘dondurma’- the long-awaited stretchy Turkish ice-cream (made from goats milk, sugar and the root of a local orchid that gives it its characteristic elasticity). Nix and Carys went off to see the mid-morning prayer in front of Hagia Sophia while I sat with the grump and watched the array of tourists from all over the globe. 

 We bought a ‘simit’ (sesame seed covered bread ring) to stave off hunger and took a stroll through the lovely Gulhane Park. We had both been reading ‘The Bastard of Istanbul’, so it was really cool to be able to walk through the places and taste some of the food we’d been reading about. Apparently there is a manner of speech in Istanbul – if you sell simit, you are ‘simitist’, if you sell tangerines, you are ‘tangerinist’. It’s quite fun imagining the titles of people as you pass their wares.

The trip to the Spice Bazaar lifted spirits somewhat with the purchase of some more Turkish Delight and ‘sujuk’ (Georgian ‘churchkhela’ – more about this on the Georgia page). The city was buzzing. There are people, cars, and stray cats everywhere, domed mosques and sharp minarets in every direction and accompanying washing stations, with men washing up before prayers.  We noticed more than a random amount of people with bandaged heads and noses, which we guessed may have been people injured in the earthquake. We wandered our way around the city taking in the sights and sounds, but overall it was a trying day. Despite our incredible surroundings, the favourite parts of the day were stroking stray cats on the street, and stopping to watch leeches in a bottle at a ‘flowerist’s’ stall. We keep learning that sometimes travel with children is like that. You just have to stop and stroke cats and watch the leeches. 

Spirits were a bit brighter the next day, so we set off again to try and visit the inside of the Hagia Sophia. The queue was about as long as the day before, but this time we were prepared! We invented ‘Queue-no’ – Uno played in a queue, with one person holding the deck and discard pile, while also being the arbiter of the rules. The time in the queue passed in a flash and after a security check and head covering for the Graham girls, we made it into the historic building. Aside from its fascinating history – being built by Constantine to cement ‘Byzantium’ as the centre of the Holy Roman Empire, then being converted into a mosque by the Ottomans, then a museum, then a mosque again – it is a beautiful building on the inside. None of us except Daniel had ever been into a mosque before, so it was a novel experience. It was weird walking around on the lush, carpeted floor taking pictures as tourists while men prostrated and prayed in the front. We sat down in a quite spot to just take in the experience when we were approached by a young woman. Sumaya was a theology student helping out at the mosque as a volunteer guide and practicing her English.  We had a fascinating conversation about the mosque, Islam, Turkey and the quakes, while she sat with us on the floor and stroked one of the tame mosque cats that has the run of the place. 

Our next activity was to take the commuter ferry across the Bosphorus to the Asian side of Istanbul and back to the European side – the novelty of crisscrossing continental divides. There are hordes of touts in Istanbul selling Bosphorous cruises, but we opted for the cheap local option of the standard ferry, and for a couple of Lira we got a similar experience at a fraction of the price. We sailed up past the Galata Tower and the Dolmabahace Palace and across to the other side. Notable were the huge Turkish flags on all of the hilltops around Istanbul – a highly visible display of nationalism that we assume has lasted since Attaturk’s day. For this week they were all at half-mast as the nation mourned the massive loss of life in the two earthquakes. With no particular agenda on the Asian side, we grabbed a quick and delicious doner kebab, stopped to stroke more kittens in the doorway of a shop, and got back on the ferry to the other side…or so we thought. Turned out that we got on the wrong ferry and ended up taking a much more scenic route beneath the two massive bridges that cross the Bosphorus and way further north than we had intended.  The detour meant that we needed to wait for a bus back to the city centre, but the wait was fairly pleasant as we watched the huge tankers and other ships navigating the straits on their way up to the Black Sea. (Is someone who works on a tanker a tankerist?)  Our departure from Istanbul early the next morning was tainted by being ripped off by a taxi driver for the short trip to the train station, but such are taxi drivers in big cities…  Istanbul is a fantastic city to visit - a sensory overload of sights, smells and sounds...and plenty of cats.

Pammukale

On the advice of our favourite geologist, one of the things we were determined to see in Turkey was the travertine baths of Pammukale. To get there we had opted for a double train trip to Eskisehir and then Denizli – we just love the train. The most amazing thing about the trip was how much snow there was! The landscape was completely white for almost the whole journey as we read, listened to stories and slept. Despite arriving at Denizli quite late, we were able to get a inexpensive taxi and made our way to the Ozbay Hotel. The Dad was sent out to try and locate some ‘gozleme’ (pancake with fillings - either cheese, spinach or meat) for supper. The streets were deserted and it was clearly low season in Turkey’s most visited single tourist destination. After a somewhat awkward, but fascinating wait around a table in the middle of a family’s dinnertime debate, he returned successful, and we tucked in before crashing to bed.  

In the morning we were grateful that the hotel was located directly opposite the entrance to the travertine baths so we could make an early start up the hill. You have to take your shoes off to walk on the travertine. We weren’t prepared for how cold it was going to be, and in the space of a few steps our feet were frozen and aching. It was a long walk up the hill and the only way to cope was to intermittently jump into the lukewarm stream running down the side of the hill so we could defrost our feet. The landscape is totally surreal. In addition to the blinding white stone, the dripping and flowing forms are other-worldly. We later learned that the Turks didn’t treat the place very well in the 1970s, building a road on the travertine and plonking a hotel on the top. Realizing the mistake, the road has been rehabilitated with some man-made pools and the area is much better managed. We felt very privileged to have the whole place to ourselves right up until we got tot the top, when the tourist buses started to arrive. 

We ducked off to explore the other major attraction of the town – the ancient ruins of the Hierapolis. These ruins definitely don’t get as much PR as the travertine baths, but are equally impressive. We had a great time exploring the roman roads, lavitorium, extensive necropolis and impressive amphitheatre. 

Our final stop was at Cleopatra’s bath, created by Mark Anthony for his lover, but it is not known whether she actually visited the place. The large pool receives water from the thermal spring and is a blissful 34-37 degrees. A few hundred years ago, an earthquake had caused some of the surrounding temple to collapse into the pool, and there they have been left, so we got to swim around ancient roman columns and pediments.  We didn’t want to get out and definitely overstayed our allotted two hours, but eventually we had to brave the cold and make our way down the travertine and back home. The sun was setting on the white stone, making for some stunning scenes and great photos.  That night we sought out a very small and local restaurant and tried some more Turkish specialties. The discovery of the evening was Ayran – slightly salty and watered-down yoghurt drunk with meals. Sounds a bit gross but is actually really good!

Cappadocia

Turkey is a big country. We realised this when trying to plan our transport between the things we wanted to see. Our budget wouldn’t allow the easy option of flying so we were forced to take a bus to our next destination – Cappadocia. We decided to split the long trip in two, stopping at Konya. We only realised on our way there that Konya is a pretty interesting place, being the centre of Islam in Turkey and home and resting place of the poet, Rumi. We saw Rumi’s mausoleum and learned that this is the original home of the Sufi dervishes, the sect he founded. We had only booked one night in Konya, with a late arrival and early departure, so our fleeting visit meant we couldn’t get a more in-depth view of the sights. Maybe next time. We woke up to a bone-chilling -13 degrees in Konya and headed to the bus station for breakfast. We tucked into some delicious ‘menemen’ (spicy scrambled egg with onion and peppers) and lots of cups of tea before jumping on the bus. We were very impressed by the long-distance buses in Turkey. They have an efficient online booking system, all arrive and depart on time and have onboard wifi (mostly), power points and even an on-board tea service! 

The entrance to Cappadocia is bizarre. As you travel east from Nevsehir, the Uchisar castle comes into view and you can spy the tiny doorways of the castle and the cave houses in the slope. Suddenly there are strange rock formations that look like giant termite mounds all along the road, many of which have doors and windows carved into them. We had never seen anything like it – the closest thing we could reference was Tatooine from Star Wars. 

In Goreme we were staying in a small, family-owned cave hotel. Our room was literally chiselled by hand into the rock. We had a view of the town and breakfast included – luxury! Breakfast came in waves and included a cheese, veg and cold meat platter, assorted breads, cooked eggs, fried sausages, and (of course) several rounds of tea. Without wanting to pay exorbitant amounts for organised tours, or to travel too far, we decided to head to the Goreme Open Air Museum to explore the many cave churches. Despite the lack of information and the additional fee to see one of the churches, we were able to get a good impression of how the ‘desert fathers and mothers’ hid away in their small clandestine communities to preserve early Christianity. The kids enjoyed crawling around the rooms imagining how they lived and choosing where they would have lived. And then it got a bit boring and they enjoyed rolling snowballs outside instead. 

We took a taxi to Uchisar Castle where we had a look around the outside of the fortification but quickly descended the hill to get out of the icy wind. At the start of the snowy hike through Love Valley, we happened upon the owner of an art gallery, who told us that there was much less snow than he was used to as a child – it used to be 2m deep! So we were somewhat grateful to only be trudging through a few inches of snow, but the steep path down into the valley did get treacherous at times. And hence, the phrase: ‘doing a mommy’ was coined, referring to one’s legs slipping out from under one, and gracefully landing on one’s bottom. We had the entire valley to ourselves and loved the cold, winding path, with the bizarre Cappadocian fairy castles emerging from the sides of the canyon more fully formed as we travelled further along it.  The kids were absolute troopers and managed a total of 12km in the snow by the end of the day. We did benefit from a lot of silliness to keep spirits up, including snow angels, lots of crassness from daddy, and Carys and Daniel coming up with ridiculous names for future pets, including ‘Extra The Snowman’.

The next morning was the only clear day during our stay in Goreme, and the pent up demand for hot air balloon rides really showed when Nick got up early to climb to a sunrise viewing point. He counted around 60 balloons dotting the sky – a very postcard/Instagram sight, but impressive nonetheless. Our day outing involved another walk - this time to Rose Valley. We dodged many of the quadbike and Land Rover tours and ended up at the head of the valley entirely on our own. We clambered up to discover a very cool rock church with carved ceilings, painted arches and interconnected rooms. We could have stayed there for ages, but the sun was setting and the temperature dropped quickly. The valley lit up pink as we descended and we managed to savour the moment despite the rowdy tour groups on the hills above us. We took refuge in a local restaurant to enjoy a spread of even more different types of traditional Turkish food accompanied by loads of little bowls of trimmings. The evening was finished off with baklava (which every country in the region seems to make their own version of) and kunefe. Kunefe is a dessert made of baked cheese, topped with crispy hair-like pasta, and topped with syrup and pistachios. It is the most delicious and calorie-dense thing we ate in Turkey. 

To the east

From Goreme we took another short and relatively pleasant bus trip to Ankara. The stop was strictly a necessary one – we needed to go there to board the Dogu Express train to the eastern city of Kars, but was also an opportunity to get some much-needed clothes washing done and stock up on supplies. The capital was busy doing its thing, unconcerned with, and unpopulated by international tourists- a very different experience from the other places we had visited in Turkey. Although we were only there for a day, we still managed to see the major attraction in town, the Anıtkabir, which is a monument and mausoleum for the most beloved ‘father of modern Turkey’, Mustafa Kamal Attaturk. The place was heaving with local Turkish tourists and was much more strictly controlled than any other tourist attraction – security checks, army and police everywhere, no smoking, etc. On our way back to the train station we stopped at a restaurant for lunch to sample Etliekmek (flatbread with toppings). The waiter was so attentive and generous and we were presented with free desert (more kunefe!) and tea. This act of kindness was followed by the laundry man pulling off an amazing turnaround on washing our clothes and then refusing to take any tip for his excellent service. Cities that have fewer sights often have the most wonderful generosity towards visitors, and this we experienced over and over again. Daniel was insistent that we hadn’t adequately sampled Turkish dondurma, so we went off on a wild goose chase but were ultimately successful in sourcing one final stretchy ice-cream. 

The 27-hour Dogu Express train (which is not so express) that crosses the country from west to east seems to be a bit of a thing in Turkey and our fellow passengers were taking pictures with the train when it arrived at the platform. There was a buzz of excitement, but we were a bit nervous about spending that long on a train. However, we relaxed when we settled into our cosy little cabin where we’d be for the next day and a bit, enjoyed our packed supper and had a relatively good night.

We woke up to beautiful scenery as we wound our way back and forth over the Euphrates River and between snow-covered hills. We ventured to the dining car for some tea and snacks and found that it was a great place for making friends. The first couple to strike up a conversation were Erhan and Berivan.  Turns out that Erhan is a hot-shot Turkish trail runner and plans to run the Ultra Trail Cape Town in November this year. After a short conversation in broken English / Turkish, they offered to buy us dinner – the local specialty from the village of Erzurum where we stopped for a half an hour in the evening. After supper we were chilling in the dining car when we were joined by Masut and his daughters, Nihil and Zeynep.  Masut was very keen to chat and the kids got down to drawing and colouring in together. Shortly after buying us tea and the kids sweets, Masut and family left, offering to host us in his home if we are ever in the area.  We had to admit that we were quite sad when the train arrived in Kars, its final destination, as we all could easily have spent another 24 hours travelling this way.

Kars was absolutely freezing and it was snowing to boot. We braved the cold and the walk along icy pavements to the Konak 2 hotel (learning along the way that it is the poorer relation of the Konak I hotel further up the street). However, it was comfortable enough and despite the stink of cigarette smoke (the worst thing about Turkey), we had a good night. Again we realised that we should have planned two days in Kars, as there is so much to do in the capital of the eastern region. Everywhere is interesting in some way or another! 

We left relatively early for the bus to the Georgian border and it was lucky that we did – we ended up taking a taxi to the wrong bus station, and had to take another taxi back. Dope! After averting a minor crisis, we had time to locate the bus station’s tea stop, were we settled down with the locals for a very authentic simit and Turkish tea experience.  

In contrast to our other bus trips, this one was properly hairy. The first part involved climbing a snowy pass with the road completely covered in ice in places. I was sitting directly behind the driver and could feel his anxiety levels rising - completely different from the usually cavalier attitude of most Turkish bus drivers, who drive with one hand on the wheel, and the other holding their cigarette out the window. Once we had descended off the escarpment he relaxed and we started to wind around a series of massive dams feeding hydropower plants. The dams a were a deep teal in colour and there was evidence of former villages that had been flooded, including the eerie sight of a minaret sticking above the water. At a point, the bus hard braked ahead of a rockfall into the road. Most of the rocks were caught by wire nets, but some sizable ones landed a few metres from the bus. Close shave. When the topography got too steep we started entering the tunnels – one after another - a total of 46 tunnels! Massive infrastructure seems to be a feature of the otherwise impenetrable Artvin region – a civil engineer’s dream.  We reached the town of Hopa and had a relatively simple transition into a waiting taxi. We experienced a last show of Turkish kindness as the taxi driver stopped to let Nick out to change money and while he waited, and handed out naartjies that he keeps above the visor to the rest of us.

We were so touched by the generosity of the Turkish people, which will probably be our lasting impression of the place. Everywhere we went, people treated the kids to buns, sweets, pretzels or peeled fruit - the couple behind us on the bus, the old man in the train station, the restaurant owner in Goreme, the shop keeper in Eskisehir. A number of times one or the other of us said, "These people make me want to be more generous to visitors". So much of what we learn when we travel is how to be more human.