A trip for the mind and senses
22 May – 12 June 2004

The thrill is back again, finally it is time to explore the world once again. For months have I been wondering where I should go. Malawi has been cancelled in 2002 and 2003, maybe back to India again, or do I dare go to Ethiopia. In the end I made up my mind by not going that far this time, but still to a country where all the travel senses will be worked upon. Why not Eastern Turkey, far away from all the major tourists destinations as in the Mediterrenean. Eastern Turkey has gotten my attention since I took a little peak in a travel guide from a friend, who started his travel TV-program career in Cappadoccia. It looked like Eastern Turkey could offer me all ingredients for a beautiful trip: new (Kurdish) culture, people who are not very much used to tourism, great variety of beautiful nature & great cuisine.

Let’s take a little peak into the history of Eastern Turkey, or as the locals still prefer, Kurdistan. Trouble, trouble and more trouble. It all began ….
Armenia, exodus of Iraqi Kurdis during the Gulf War in the beginning of the 90’s. The capture of PKK’s Ocalan… But still, the Kurdis are proud of their own culture, which is not bound by the current borders in the Middle East, but also is found in Iran, Iraq, Syria en Armenia.

As soon I step foot outside the airport arrival hall, I feel this is a totally different world. The hassles from the taxi touts are responsible for that. After setting the maximum price for a, possible very short, ride to the otogar, as the bus station is named in Turkey, I know I am in big metropolis. Istanbul is home for a population somewhere between 12 and 16 milion people, depending on where you draw the line. One line is sure though, the line between what’s Europe and what’s Asia: the Bosphorus.

While driving towards the Otogar I notice that there are no separate driving lanes. Everybody is driving like maniacs, like a big ant family no noticing the other members. Once in a while I take a little peak at the dashboards trying to find out how fast we are going driving like this. Ok, 160/ hour. Thank God, the breaks are working, because cars in front of our car come sometimes really close. The cabdriver doesn’t speak much English, but the most obvious questions, “Where are you from”?, is soon followed by “Pierre van Hooijdonk is Turka!”. As we are entering the entrance of the Otogar, the cabdriver is asking me where I want to go. “Malatya”, is my answer. Before I know it, the driver I shouting around “Malatya, Malatya!”. Within the second ten people are running out of the busticke offices and gathering around the car. Malatya is like half way to Iraq, but still plenty of busses seem to be going there. One of busticketboys is very ambitious. He’s opening the trunk of the car and grapping my luggage. “Hands off my luggage”, I shout, knowing he won’t run away with, but as friendly as he probably is wants to take it to his office hoping I will a ticket from his office. Well, he guessed poorly. I don’t like your style, mister. I start walking around the immense busstation, whee at least 50 office are clustered next to reachother, reminding of the station scale stations and actually pretty well organised bus stations in South America. The first office where I won’t be shouted to, I enter to ask what the possibilities are.

First I decide not to go straight to Malatya, but make a first stop in Cappadoccia. This in order to acclamitise a bit to local customs in a more or less touristy area.
So let’s go to Goreme. When I ask fo a ticket to this place, of course my pronounciation is totally wrong. So already I have to take out my book, to point out the name of this place I want to go to. Then they understand the place. They try to explain in their poor English, that I have to go to Kayseri first and then a next bus to Goreme. Hmm, this will be a nice experience already, because I will arriving in Kayseri around 5 a.m. After paying for the ticket and putting my luggage in the bus, I just have to wait for an hour or so before I leaving. Just taking a short walk on the other side of the busstation, I am taking in this immensity of the city of Istanbul. I can look five or six hills ahead, all of them not leaving any space, just slumps. The guide already mentioned the fact that this enormous busstation is built in not one of the nicest areas of Istanbul. I won’t be walking outside of it for fun, I guess.

Finally after soaking up some first sun, the bus is leaving after two hours of waiting, not one. But then again, what do you expect? The bus is actually pretty good, nice chairs, quite some space for my not too long legs and of course an airconditioning which makes it neccesary to put on my sweater. The first three hours the bus is just trying to make its way out of the city. Traffic is crazy here, as a peasant you are definitely not safe on one of many zebra crossings. Everybody just doesn’t care about those white lines on the street, so what’s the use of all the white paint on the street then? While crossing the Bosphorus, I notice a little sign on the other side saying “welcome to Asia”.