Tag Archives: March 2010

Antalya Museum and our intro to CouchSurfing

At first Antalya looked like many of the larger cities in Turkey, row after row of off-white or peach apart­ment build­ings all mod­elled after the same design. But once we started walking around, the beauty of the city was apparent.

A typical view of a street in Antalya, Turkey.

The city is located on the Mediterranean ocean. It’s natural for­ti­fic­a­tions resemble those of Dieppe in France. The city is perched on dra­matic and beau­ti­ful cliffs. Walks, prom­en­ades and quaint parks weave in and out along this impress­ive coast­line. The build­ings in the old city all look as if they just received a fresh coat of paint. The shops display col­our­ful shawls, pillow cases and rugs. Above all, the people of Antalya are wel­com­ing, relaxed and friendly.

Rugs for sale in the old town in Antalya. This area is extremely pic­tur­esque and caters to tour­ists in every way.

The beau­ti­ful, well kept build­ings of Antalya. Notice how the upper floor sticks out further then the first floor?

In fact, having just joined CouchSurfing 10 days before arriv­ing, Chris and I were aware of a monthly CouchSurfing meeting occur­ring while we were in Antalya. We were also aware that Ben and Pen, the Australian couple we first met on our Gallipoli Battlefield Tour, were also in the city, so of course we had to meet up with them. On purpose we hunted down the hotel they were staying at. We enjoyed our break­fasts and dinners with them. We also visited the Antalya Museum which does a won­der­ful job of taking you from the stone age to more recent finds from Turkey. The museum costs 15 Turkish Lira ($10 CAN). My advice is to make sure you are well fed before you go to the museum because they do not have any food on site and the secur­ity will not let you re-enter even a few minutes later if you leave (not the greatest cus­tomer service). We unfor­tu­nately had to rush through the museum because we were feeling very faint.

An example at the Antalya Museum of the tra­di­tional Turkish blue tiles.

An example at the Antalya Museum of the tra­di­tional Turkish blue tiles.

The ancient civil­iz­a­tions of Turkey use to bury their dead in large pots. Here is one such indi­vidual on display in the Antalya Museum (15.00 Turkish Lira/person)

This is an ancient burial pot from Turkey. It stands roughly five feet tall. Observing the burial pots on display in the Antalya Museum, I was amazed at how small the major­ity of the pots are, and curious to know just how big the pot would have to be to hold me or Chris. Huge!

We enjoyed the company of our friends but Ben and Pen left Antalya before us, catch­ing the bus that night to Cappadocia. The morning after they left Chris and I were 80% sure we were going to get the bus that night to catch up with them but while enjoy­ing break­fast Chris piped up and said, “I forgot to tell you some­thing...” He men­tioned the .CA contest and I agreed that we should enter. In order to do so we would need to stay and work on the devel­op­ment and full pro­duc­tion of the video in Antalya. We brain stormed for hours at the hotel.  For a break we headed to a cafe with the view of the sea. While enjoy­ing our Efes beer and throw­ing ideas back and forth a man approached us. He asked if he could sit with us and chat. This had not happened to us before, so not wanting to be entirely rude I said he was welcome to sit next to us but that we were busy working. “Working?”, he ques­tioned. After I mumbled a few other things and Chris too was trying to explain he said, “Let me guess. You’re Chris and your Laura.” Chris and I were both shocked and our minds frantic­ally tried to figure out how he knew that. “The blog? Surely not.”, I thought. Then Chris said, “Turker”. And so it was!

Turker is an ambas­sador on CouchSurfing. We had e-mailed  back and forth a few times but had not planned on meeting. He was per­sist­ent and determ­ined to find us. Apparently, while strolling around Antalya with his mom and sister he looked every­where for us. He said he saw us go into the res­taur­ant. At least he was pretty sure it was us. So the three of them sat at another table on the side walk level and when a table became avail­able on the patio where we sat they changed tables. Whipping open the ever handy cell phone he signed onto CouchSurfing and had his mom and sister compare our profile photo with us. They agreed, it must be us and he was right. Can you believe it?!

Needless to say we put the video work aside and had the most enjoy­able after­noon hanging out with Turker and his mom and sister. We chatted as we fin­ished our beers and with Turker as our guide we hopped onto a city bus to visit the local water­fall. We returned from the water­fall just in time to catch the 6:30 pm nightly light and water show at the cities main down­town park. I haven’t seen such a won­der­ful display and syn­chron­iz­a­tion of water and music since Disneyland.

It just so happened that it was also the day of the CouchSurfing Antalya meeting. So, promptly after enjoy­ing a lovely meal with Turker and his sister, we went to the des­ig­nated bar to meet and meet and meet. In the course of the evening and into the wee hours of the morning Chris and I made con­ver­sa­tion with many locals and some other trav­el­lers who came to the meeting as well. We could not have found a better way to start meeting the CouchSurfing community.

In Antalya the pomp-trees come equip with buttons to hail a taxi. Amazing! I think this is some­thing Canada should pick up, perhaps not the pomp-trees but I’m sure an Elm or Blue Spruce would do just a good.

The next day I was hit with my first case of food pois­on­ing which left me toilet/bed ridden for one day and night. With determ­in­a­tion, between visits with the toilet, I put on a smile and we filmed the footage you see in our .CA video entry.

The next day it seemed my visits with the toilet were over so we decided to catch the 10-hour night bus to Cappadocia. All in all it took my stomach  five days to fully recover from my first exper­i­ence with food poisoning.

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Cappadocia is Turkey’s version of Canada’s badlands without the dinosaur bones

Here are some older photos from the land­scape of central Turkey in the area known as Cappadocia. I’m also just fin­ish­ing a post about Lanciano for you before I con­vince Chris and my girl friend to retire to the apart­ment to watch more of the “Sopranos”.

The remark­able pigeon holes in Cappadocia are meters above the ground to keep the birds safe from pred­at­ors. The people who cared for the pigeons, and col­lec­ted their drop­ping for fer­til­izer, use to climb up pas­sage­ways carved within the stone moun­tain. Some pigeon holes even feature won­der­ful painted dec­or­a­tions like the ones see here.

The dra­matic land­scape of Cappadocia (enhanced with some post-processing).

Cappadocia from up high.

The mushroom-capped rocks of Cappadocia. There is one valley full of these geo­lo­gical rock form­a­tions which is known as the “Valley of Love”...

Thousands of years ago humans carved homes into the rocks in Cappadocia.

In Imagination Valley in Cappadocia, you can spend an entire morning looking for shapes in the rocks.

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Animals and Nature of Olympos, Turkey

Hi guys! Just to reas­sure you in regards to our April Fool’s joke (hee,hee) we are actu­ally safe and sound in Italy. We are hanging out in my old stomp­ing ground of Lanciano where I went to high school at the Canadian College of Italy (CCI). Chris and I are both working on photos to show this lovely place to you, but for now here are some photos from back in Olympos in Turkey. Enjoy. –Laura–

I spotted this lonely locust on the ground near the beach in Olympos, Turkey.

The land­scape around Olympos is truly amazing. If you are looking to get away from the daily grind and hurried pace of life, come stay in Olympos for a week or two in February.

Wild flowers are start­ing to show their colours.

Chris spotted this little fellow while we walked along the beach in Olympos. He was about 5 inches wide.

Turkish people put plants in whatever they can get their hands on.

The mag­ni­fi­cent beach at Olympos. It’s a great loc­a­tion to find hand­some men, like the lone-stallion fea­tured in this photo.

The ancient ruins at Olympos straddle this river, which flows out into the ocean only meters from where Chris is taking some photographs.

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The 50-millimeter Canon lens bounced down the Ihlara Valley

Coming out of the mosque I put my purse down to free my hands and aid in my safe journey back down the awkward, eroded carved steps. Suddenly the world was in slow motion as I heard my bag shift. Even though the top was sealed with Velcro, the only two objects similar in size and shape came rolling out. In dis­be­lief I stared as a red shinny apple and my 50-millimeter Canon lens dropped-off the mosque steps.

It all started when the four of us, Ben, Pen, Chris and I piled out of the car to hike the Ihlara Valley. I had hiked the valley 11-years ago with my mom, dad and two friends, so it held a special place in my heart. To help you with the THEN and NOW feel­ings I was having, here are some photos.

We spent five hours hiking and explor­ing the Ihlara Valley with Ben and Pen. I hiked the same valley with my parents and two friends back in 1999. See the next photo.

Laura, on the right of the Ihlara Valley sign 11-years ago. My friend Lindsey on the left.

Hiking through Ihlara Valley with Chris, Ben and Pen in 2010.

Laura (15-years old) and her friend Casey, hiking the Ihlara Valley in 1999.

Laura and Chris at the same loc­a­tion and view point at the Ihlara Valley as Laura was 11-years ago.

Group shot at the Ihlara Valley view point. Laura, Casey, Lindsay and in the back Laura’s mom and dad.

We were extremely excited to hike the valley because of the tunnels, pigeon holes and churches carved into the steep cliffs.

One of the many rock-carved churches found in the Ihlara Valley.

This is a paint­ing on the central dome in one of the rock-carved churches in the Ihlara Valley. In the past many of the churches were painted. However, over the cen­tur­ies most of the fres­coes have been van­dal­ized or faded.

While hiking we came across a con­veni­ently placed res­taur­ant with log stumps for seats and each table equip with the Turkish neces­sit­ies, an ash tray and sugar cubes.

A con­veni­ently placed res­taur­ant along the hiking trail of the Ihlara Valley.

Above all, we were espe­cially excited to locate a hidden mosque the owner of our hotel told us about. We hike further and further into the belly of the Ihlara, never boring of the mag­ni­fi­cent landscape.

The Ihlara Valley in Turkey.

Rounding a curve we were sud­denly sur­roun­ded by giant cliffs. High up we could see carved door­ways. Was that the entrance the hotel owner tried to describe? And is this the cliff edge he haphaz­ardly marked on our map with an “X”?

The Ihlara Valley in Turkey.

Without further hes­it­a­tion we pulled out our head­lamps and flash­lights. One by one we entered the small, claustrophobic tunnel. What a dis­cov­ery! We had found what appeared to be an old well, a bar­ri­caded door, a small church and two grand rooms meas­ur­ing 5 by 10 meters. Only twenty more meters down the valley we found the mosque.

A mosque carved into the cliffs in the Ihlara Valley. This is a sight rarely seen by tour­ists. It’s off the beaten trail.

...I stared as a red shinny apple and my 50-millimeter Canon lens dropped-off the mosque steps.

Oh no...” , I muttered. Time froze as both apple and lens gain speed with their descent, each one boun­cing harder and further the more it crashed down the Ihlara Valley. The apple, like a runner in a mara­thon only feet from the finish line, flings itself off the hill dir­ectly into the gushing river below. “Oh no...” I think, being even more intel­li­gent than I was a few moments ago. “Perhaps the lens will stop boun­cing. Perhaps I’ll be lucky enough that it just stops and doesn’t follow the apple into the river. Or perhaps because of the ten bounces and bangs this unpro­tec­ted 50-millimeter Canon lens has just endured down the moun­tain side, I should hope it puts me and itself out of misery by landing in the river.”

What does the lens do? It stops-dead 2/3 of the way down the hill. Collecting the lens cap which popped off at the top of the hill, I slowly make my way down to my injured 50. “It might still work”, I think. “Sure. It’s little.....and tough?” I pick it up. Its glass eye star­ring at me, still intact. “Um?” Chris tries the lens on his camera. “ERROR”. My heart sinks a little. “Darn it. I’ve already des­troyed a lens and we’re only two months into the trip.”

Two days later I try the lens out on my camera and the most amazing and impress­ive thing happens. It works! It’s been a week since my poor 50-millimeter rolled down the Ihlara Valley, but remark­ably it is still pro­du­cing quality pho­to­graphs! So for you photo buffs out there who need sturdy, reli­able equip­ment, I think this one passes the test.

Updated on March 28, 2010.

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Some snap shots

Chris enjoy­ing Turkish coffee at a cafe by the coast in Fethiye, Turkey.

Pen and Ben, our Australian buddies we first met on our tour of the Gallipoli bat­tle­fields, and then again, by chance, two weeks later in Olympos.

A tracker crosses the river, the only path for vehicles to get from our hotels side of the river to the other.

Chris pre­par­ing dinner with Petrit and Gloria, who we met in Selcuk and traveled with for two days.

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