Sherrill and I visited more than 60 countries and most of the United States during our 52 year marriage. This is number 61 of a series about our lives and travels, true stories of two people discovering the world, each other, and themselves through five decades of traveling together. If you scroll down, you'll come to earlier posts in this series. To start at the beginning of our marriage and travels look at the Archives list in the sidebar and start with May, 2017. Older posts are a previous series.
Sherrill & Bruce, 40th Wedding Anniversary, Eastern Turkey Forty years after Sherrill and I impetuously married at the Cupid Drive-In Wedding Chapel in Las Vegas on the way to Mexico City, we found ourselves traveling in a remote corner of Eastern Turkey. Eight of us were exploring with our friend Hala a part of the Middle East that saw few tourists, but over which military planes flew frequently and noisily. Driving through a dry, sparsely populated area near the Iranian border, we chanced into an experience that seemed almost symbolic.
We noticed what looked like a party in progress next to a faded blue house set back from the road. A group of men and women were dancing in a wide circle to recorded folk music on an open area between the house and road. We stopped and Hala and our driver walked over to find out what was happening. It turned out to be an engagement party for a young Kurdish couple—and we were invited.
We noticed what looked like a party in progress next to a faded blue house set back from the road. A group of men and women were dancing in a wide circle to recorded folk music on an open area between the house and road. We stopped and Hala and our driver walked over to find out what was happening. It turned out to be an engagement party for a young Kurdish couple—and we were invited.
Kurdish engagement party, Eastern Turkey Several children ran down to greet us as we walked up the dirt driveway. The adults welcomed us with smiles and gestures and the energetic dancing continued. The joy on the faces of the dancers, especially the younger ones, made us grin, too. Legs and feet pranced and stomped and kicked as arms stretched over the shoulders of other dancers. Some of the women wore long skirts, loose jackets, and kerchiefs, but the younger women left their hair uncovered wore less bulky clothes. Sometimes, the men and women moved in one large circle, other times they separated into two circles moving in opposite directions.
"Where are you from?" one asked. When we said the United States they were surprised, but pleased. They offered us fruit juice and sweets, then pulled us into the dancing circles. Laughing, we all did our best to copy the steps.
"Where are you from?" one asked. When we said the United States they were surprised, but pleased. They offered us fruit juice and sweets, then pulled us into the dancing circles. Laughing, we all did our best to copy the steps.
Kurdish engagement party: bride & groom, bride's sister & baby niece Jet planes suddenly roared overhead, slicing trails like chalk scratches on the blue sky.
"What was that?" I asked.
"A U.S. airbase is near here," someone explained. "The border is just over there."
Sherrill and I dropped out of the circle, but a young man came up and, with his few words of English, invited us to follow him into the house. The engaged couple was inside, sitting with family members in a low-ceilinged room carpeted with overlapping rugs. Very young, the boy and girl gazed up at us, the bride in a long white gown with high collar and full sleeves, the thin young groom, with hollow cheeks, dark eyes, and big ears, in an ill-fitting black suit. Were they as terrified of the future as they appeared?
"Please," I asked the man who took us in, "tell them that we wish them happiness and good fortune." Then, hand over my heart, I bent toward them and backed away.
"What was that?" I asked.
"A U.S. airbase is near here," someone explained. "The border is just over there."
Sherrill and I dropped out of the circle, but a young man came up and, with his few words of English, invited us to follow him into the house. The engaged couple was inside, sitting with family members in a low-ceilinged room carpeted with overlapping rugs. Very young, the boy and girl gazed up at us, the bride in a long white gown with high collar and full sleeves, the thin young groom, with hollow cheeks, dark eyes, and big ears, in an ill-fitting black suit. Were they as terrified of the future as they appeared?
"Please," I asked the man who took us in, "tell them that we wish them happiness and good fortune." Then, hand over my heart, I bent toward them and backed away.
Our close friend and travel mentor, Hala, Topkapi Palace, Istabul When Sherrill and I arrived in Istanbul at the beginning of the trip, we realized once again that it was one of the most beautiful, exciting cities in the world. With Hala and others in our group and alone we visited new places in the city, as well as familiar, including the restored Aya Sophia and the Topkapi Palace, but two days later we were up at 4:30 a.m. for an early Turkish Airlines flight across most of the country to Trabzon on the Black Sea, where we began our exploration of Eastern Turkey.
From Trabzon, we drove east along a narrow coastal strip between green mountains and the sea, then turned inland until we drove along a fast-running river at the bottom of a deep gorge, tall cliffs on each side. Our goal was the Sumela Manastriri, an ancient monastery famous for its frescoes. Eventually, we parked and began a climb on foot up a steep trail of dirt, broken rock, and boulders until we reached a stone staircase of 90 steps and then saw the monastery complex rising like an organic part of the massive cliff face. Then, we descended and walked across the various levels of the ancient buildings, studying early frescoes depicting the life of Mary and various saints. Although damaged, the paintings powerfully dramatized the beliefs of the artists.
From Trabzon, we drove east along a narrow coastal strip between green mountains and the sea, then turned inland until we drove along a fast-running river at the bottom of a deep gorge, tall cliffs on each side. Our goal was the Sumela Manastriri, an ancient monastery famous for its frescoes. Eventually, we parked and began a climb on foot up a steep trail of dirt, broken rock, and boulders until we reached a stone staircase of 90 steps and then saw the monastery complex rising like an organic part of the massive cliff face. Then, we descended and walked across the various levels of the ancient buildings, studying early frescoes depicting the life of Mary and various saints. Although damaged, the paintings powerfully dramatized the beliefs of the artists.
After lunch at a restaurant above the river, where we ate trout fresh from the running water, we drove steadily inland, ascending until we reached a high area of forested mountains and small farms with traditional wooden houses like chalets. Stopping for a while, we walked out a gravel road to the side of a long blue lake and a cluster of old houses. In a corn field, two women bundled in colorful layers and head scarves were cutting corn stocks with curved hand scythes. On the way back, we saw women carrying huge bundles of dried corn stalks on their backs. We noticed a few men and boys in the fields, too, but more often saw them smoking and drinking tea. Then we drove back to the coast and our hotel.
 Sherrill and the Black Sea, Eastern Turkey, and Sumela Byzantine Monastery, near Trabzon |  |
The next morning, Sherrill pranced barefoot across the boulders and rocks below our room to dip her feet into the cold water of the Black Sea, then after breakfast of olives, tomatoes, feta, bread and honey, and hard-boiled eggs we continued following the coast, passing tea plantations on one side and cormorants dive-bombing into the blue water on the other. Eventually, we reached the mountain town of Artvin, where we spent the night. Then we continued our exploration of the area, seeking out the surviving ninth and tenth century Georgian churches and monasteries that a thousand and more years ago—along with mostly gone fortresses and castles—dotted the trade route to the Black Sea.
Village boy, Eastern Turkey mountains After a long drive along a narrow road clinging to the side of a canyon, we left the pavement and began climbing a steep, winding, even narrower, road until we reached a small village and an abandoned but beautifully decorated ninth century church. A little girl ran to get the key to the closed church. Several other children soon appeared. One of the smaller boys wore a faded Pokemon tee shirt, but since there were no televisions in the village he probably had no idea who the Japanese cartoon characters on his chest were.
Rural life, Eastern Turkey, 2004 As the days went by, we left the historic Georgian part of Turkey, driving south into a high plateau region once called the land of Aramea by the Mesopotamians and Syrians, so the people who settled there became "Armenians." At the border city of Ardahan, we passed a huge military complex keeping watch over Turkish/Georgian (formerly USSR) border.
Sherrill and I celebrated the day of our wedding exactly forty years before with a party our good friend Hala gave us with our group in the lounge of our hotel in the historic border town of Kars. We even were treated to a stirring performance of young costumed, sword-flourishing, Armenian dancers: a memorable celebration with good friends in an exciting place.
Sherrill and I celebrated the day of our wedding exactly forty years before with a party our good friend Hala gave us with our group in the lounge of our hotel in the historic border town of Kars. We even were treated to a stirring performance of young costumed, sword-flourishing, Armenian dancers: a memorable celebration with good friends in an exciting place.
Continuing south, we passed small herds of horses—this was a famous horse-breeding area—and villages of sod-roofed houses surrounded by tall cone-shaped haystacks and piles of dried dung to burn in winter. Eventually, we were confronted by the huge double wall and gate of the ancient city of Ani, which stretched to a steep gorge. Visiting this vast archeological site shared by Turkey and Armenia—including the huge remains of both a cathedral and a mosque—required special permits. In fact, we had to report at a military tower, one of a series on both sides of any section of border where there had been violence. Even a farmer had to get permission to retrieve an animal that had wandered across the border.
Ferry boat captain's son, en route to Akdamar Island, Eastern Turkey The hills grew steeper and more rugged, striped with red. Then the snow-capped peak of Mt. Ararat appeared ahead, capping an area where Turkey, Persia, and Armenia came together. We stopped in a dusty, beige-hued village to take photographs of the 17,000 foot peak. In the evening we, sat on a second floor balcony at our hotel nearby, drinking Turkish vodka mixed with cherry juice and watching the sun set over it. The next morning, Sherrill went with a group up the mountain to look for the remains of Noah's ark, while I stayed behind writing and listening to booming sounds from the direction of Iran's border. We never learned what was behind those sounds and Sherrill told me that the "Noah's ark" they saw was just a strange rock formation.
The next morning, a small two-deck boat took us to the island of Akdamar in Lake Van. The captain's son, a boy of about eight, never stopped working, coiling and uncoiling ropes, moving ladders, serving drinks, passing out napkins, carrying sugar for tea, moving fearlessly up and down the steep outside stairs as the boat churned through the lake waters.
The next morning, a small two-deck boat took us to the island of Akdamar in Lake Van. The captain's son, a boy of about eight, never stopped working, coiling and uncoiling ropes, moving ladders, serving drinks, passing out napkins, carrying sugar for tea, moving fearlessly up and down the steep outside stairs as the boat churned through the lake waters.
Armenian church, 915 AD, Akdamar Island, Lake Van If you've never seen a whale, you might assume that it was a big fish with stubby little legs and a piggy head. At least, that was how the 10th century sculptor who decorated the Armenian church built on the rocky island around 915 A.D. portrayed the Biblical whale that swallowed Jonah. A belt of deeply carved reliefs of people and animals illustrating Biblical stories, including Jonah, Abraham and Isaac, and David and Goliath, wrapped around the outside of the stone church. A procession of other whimsical animals circled above, just below the 18-sided cone of the dome. The carvings weren't sophisticated, but were great fun.
So much of Eastern Turkey is mountainous and rocky, we had to wonder why people fought over it for so many centuries. The university town of Bitlis, named after one of Alexander the Great's commanders, was another vertical city, streets and neighborhoods climbing treacherously steep cliffs. Here, as all over Eastern Turkey, 90 percent of the people on the street were men, the few women trudging along the dusty streets under their heavy bundles, completely covered. The cafes, Sherrill noted, were filled with men sitting on low stools, smoking, talking, and sipping small glasses of tea.
So much of Eastern Turkey is mountainous and rocky, we had to wonder why people fought over it for so many centuries. The university town of Bitlis, named after one of Alexander the Great's commanders, was another vertical city, streets and neighborhoods climbing treacherously steep cliffs. Here, as all over Eastern Turkey, 90 percent of the people on the street were men, the few women trudging along the dusty streets under their heavy bundles, completely covered. The cafes, Sherrill noted, were filled with men sitting on low stools, smoking, talking, and sipping small glasses of tea.
We saw soldiers, armored cars, and tanks along here, as well. Of course, we were close to the Iraqi border. When we stopped at the town of Batvan to examine a gracefully arched Ottoman bridge from 1165, several dusty little boys ran over, pointing toy guns guns at us and shouting "Money! Money!" The children of Kurdish refugees, possibly from Iraq, they weren't allowed to go to school, we were told, because they spoke little or no Turkish. Apparently, little effort had been made to help them fit into the local society.
Sherrill and great tower, Hosap Kalesi Citadel, 1643 Further along, we came to the ancient city of Diyarbakir with its fourth century Byzantine city wall, older than the great walls of Istanbul. Built of black stone, with 82 massive round towers, it is largest city wall on earth and the longest wall anywhere, except for the Great Wall of China. We saw no other foreigners and the local people did tend to stare at us. However, in the evening, at an internet cafe, I saw teenagers listening to loud music with their earphones and playing computer games—even in that remote corner of eastern Turkey. The next day, though, we discovered a large military presence. Even the police had a tank, painted blue and white. While we were in the mosque's courtyard, we saw fighter jets roaring overhead. Later, as we crossed the Tigris River on an 11th century bridge, we saw more—U.S. planes on their way to Iraq.
Mud brick beehive houses in 4,000 year-old town of Harran, where Abraham lived More mountains followed, more vertical cities, more fascinating and often beautiful historic sites—and, unfortunately, more displays of military might. Several times, as we strolled through markets, people asked, "Deutsch?" Once, a man asked, "Canada?" Nobody asked "American," but when I identified myself as American people simply looked surprised or even responded, "Welcome."
The Biblical Abraham was said to have lived in the ancient village of Harran around 2000 B.C. Large mounds called tels were scattered around the village and as far away as Syria, all of them the remains of prehistoric settlements. We climbed the huge Harran Mound, or tel, many layers of history dating back at least to the third millennium B.C. beneath our feet. We almost could feel the layers of history underfoot, stories waiting to be told: tales of the Iron Age, Pagan, Jewish, and Moslem stories, perhaps Christian stories, as well. Harran and environs is said to be the first place in the world to build with adobe mud brick. About 1,000 of the traditional mud brick beehive houses survived. We visited one, four connecting beehive-roofed rooms, cool inside, despite the heat outside.
The Biblical Abraham was said to have lived in the ancient village of Harran around 2000 B.C. Large mounds called tels were scattered around the village and as far away as Syria, all of them the remains of prehistoric settlements. We climbed the huge Harran Mound, or tel, many layers of history dating back at least to the third millennium B.C. beneath our feet. We almost could feel the layers of history underfoot, stories waiting to be told: tales of the Iron Age, Pagan, Jewish, and Moslem stories, perhaps Christian stories, as well. Harran and environs is said to be the first place in the world to build with adobe mud brick. About 1,000 of the traditional mud brick beehive houses survived. We visited one, four connecting beehive-roofed rooms, cool inside, despite the heat outside.
Bruce standing by heads from decapitated colossal statues, Mt. Nemrut Passing the huge Attaturk Dam, second largest in the world at the time, after Egypt's Aswan Dam, we to Mt. Nemrut, where, around 50 B.C., King Mithradates built his great monument to himself. Gradually, the road began to climb, spectacular peaks around us. Eventually, we entered the Mt. Nemrut National Park, driving through a village of stone houses with flat roofs of mud, straw, and dung. Some of the rooftops were bright yellow with corn drying on them.
Finally, we reached a small parking lot below the summit, from which we could walk up. A few people elected to ride donkeys. Later, Sherrill told me that her donkey driver spoke enough English to tell her that he supported a wife and five children with his job. Half way up to the summit, she heard an odd ringing sound. His cell phone. Although the donkey stopped while he took the call, when Hala and I reached the summit on foot there was Sherrill, sitting on the stone steps leading to the altar on the Eastern Terrance, staring at the great stone heads that had been placed in front of the monumental statues from which they'd fallen—the king and the gods, including Hercules and Apollo.
Finally, we reached a small parking lot below the summit, from which we could walk up. A few people elected to ride donkeys. Later, Sherrill told me that her donkey driver spoke enough English to tell her that he supported a wife and five children with his job. Half way up to the summit, she heard an odd ringing sound. His cell phone. Although the donkey stopped while he took the call, when Hala and I reached the summit on foot there was Sherrill, sitting on the stone steps leading to the altar on the Eastern Terrance, staring at the great stone heads that had been placed in front of the monumental statues from which they'd fallen—the king and the gods, including Hercules and Apollo.
Sherrill & Bruce at mountain rest stop, Eastern Turkey At the park guest house that evening, Sherrill and I met a red-haired woman from Texas who was traveling through Turkey for three weeks with her guide. She indicated a mustached Turk standing behind her.
"She is under my protection," he said—a very Moslem/Middle Eastern way of expressing the situation, I thought.
The plane from Gaziantep in the east to Istanbul was crowded, but the flight was smooth and from the air we could see how empty and rugged much of Turkey still was. The next morning, we were up early for our flight to Ankara, the capital of the country and much closer to Cappadocia, our next destination. First, we visited the State Archeology Museum in a large Ottoman-era building. Ranging from prehistoric to Neolithic to Hittite and more, the collection gave a breath-taking picture of early Turkish history, even pieces from the 8th century B.C. burial treasure of King Midas--and his skull.
"She is under my protection," he said—a very Moslem/Middle Eastern way of expressing the situation, I thought.
The plane from Gaziantep in the east to Istanbul was crowded, but the flight was smooth and from the air we could see how empty and rugged much of Turkey still was. The next morning, we were up early for our flight to Ankara, the capital of the country and much closer to Cappadocia, our next destination. First, we visited the State Archeology Museum in a large Ottoman-era building. Ranging from prehistoric to Neolithic to Hittite and more, the collection gave a breath-taking picture of early Turkish history, even pieces from the 8th century B.C. burial treasure of King Midas--and his skull.
The drive to Cappadocia turned a bit hair-raising after dark. Buses and trucks seemed to be trying to squeeze our van off the road. Once, we nearly ran into an unlighted farm wagon and horse plodding along at the edge of the pavement. At times, we suddenly came upon unlighted road construction and a surprising number of trucks and cars didn't bother with headlights. Finally, we passed the remains of a Silk Road caravansary and drove up a narrow cobblestone-paved alley until we reached massive white cliffs, the lower part of which was pocked with windows, doors, staircases, and terraces, part of it our cave hotel.
 Rock formations & caves, Cappadocia |  Cave hotel, Cappadocia |
After climbing up steep staircases and crossing several terraces dug from the cliffs, we reached our rooms. Sherrill and I were surprised by the size of the room that had been carved from the tufa rock and the modern bathroom and comfortable furniture. Then we hiked back across the main courtyard to the restaurant, where we ate classic Turkish dishes and drank Cappadocian red wine, which was very good. After breakfast the next day, our guide took the six of us to explore the natural wonders and history of the area, ranging from chimney-like formations that sometimes resembled giant mushrooms to an abandoned town of cave houses to an underground city in which early Christians hid from persecutors. We also found the remains of cave churches dug into the cliffs.
Forty years and still counting! After our two day exploration of Cappadocia, we drove to the airport at Kayseri, a modern city on a site dating back to Hittite times. (Any trip to the Middle East automatically redefines the word "old.") The little airport reminded Sherrill and me of provincial airports we'd encountered in many third world countries: small, crowded, chaotic. A group of elderly men and women sprawled in the waiting room chairs or paced the grubby floor. The women were short and stout, in long skirts, long sleeves, and high necklines, white scarves covering their heads and shoulders. The men wore loose trousers, baggy shirts and jackets, and on their heads knitted caps with little knobs on top. They were going on a pilgrimage.
By the time we landed in Istanbul, the city glowed with electric lights. After a few days on our own in the city, Sherrill and I flew back to San Francisco, but we promised ourselves that we'd return. Three visits simply weren't enough. That didn't happen, but we always remembered Turkey and Istanbul as among our favorite places.
By the time we landed in Istanbul, the city glowed with electric lights. After a few days on our own in the city, Sherrill and I flew back to San Francisco, but we promised ourselves that we'd return. Three visits simply weren't enough. That didn't happen, but we always remembered Turkey and Istanbul as among our favorite places.
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