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Eastern Turkey: Where is everyone? Even Noah's Ark is empty in this
dramatic land
The top prize in last year's Bradt/IoS travel-writing competition was
a trip to eastern Turkey and the chance to write about it in these
pages. Here, winner Simon Duncan reveals a region rich in antiquities
but startlingly bereft of western tourists
Simon Duncan
http://www.independent.co.uk/travel/asia/eastern-turkey-where-is-everyone-even-noahs-ark-is-empty-in-this-dramatic-land-8081038.html
Sunday 26 August 2012
Timeless outlook: The Ishak Pasha Palace at Dogubeyazit
AFP
'And there is Noah's Ark." Silence greeted the prophetic scene. "I
can't see it," I said eventually. More silence. But I knew the rest of
the tour group staring at the hillside, in the shadow of Mount Ararat,
couldn't see it either. Our guide, Denis, outlined the contours of the
hill again trying to make us see a boat shape while we willed him to
succeed.
"You can see better on the photos," he said, conceding defeat. We
ventured inside to a makeshift museum, a stale, round room looking
over the hillside and protected by a white-haired man who sat at a
table, smoking. The yellowing aerial photographs showed the outline of
a boat, but archaeologists continue to survey and argue the
provenance. What struck me even more was that here were the apparent
remains of one of the great stories of the Bible and we were the only
visitors. It had been a recurring theme of my trip.
Part of the allure of visiting this part of eastern Turkey, was that
10 years ago it would have been near impossible to do so. Much of the
area was heavily militarised, with relations tense along the border
with Armenia and Iran. Tourists were vetted and chaperoned. Now, with
only the presentation of passports at occasional checkpoints to bother
us, we had the freedom to move about. Nevertheless, this part of the
country has been slow, or unwilling, to cash in on the European
tourist market. Guests at the busy hotels we stayed in appeared to be
fairly local; Iranians on a weekend break or Turkish families on a
trip to the seaside.
>From our starting place, Lake Van, we spent a week travelling north
via minibus, running parallel with Turkey's eastern border, winding
our way across extinct lava fields in which the black rock had churned
the vast green emptiness. The land is rich in minerals, and zinc has
turned the soil blood-red. We would stop for tea and to stretch our
legs on the plains and feast on endless watermelons.
On a hillside overlooking the town of Dogubeyazit, a few miles from
the Iranian border and Noah's Ark, stood the proud 17th-century Ishak
Pasha Palace. The Sultan was apparently so pleased with this creation
that he had his architect's hands cut off to prevent him designing
another. We were the only people there to appreciate the Ottoman
architecture and panoramic scenery. As we left, a tribe of
schoolchildren appeared from nowhere. "Hello! Hello!" they shouted,
pleased with using their one English word and giggling when we
repeated it back. Their teachers insisted on taking a photo as the
children gathered around the exotic strangers. When we drove away we
were waved off like royalty.
Further north, we came to Ani, a grand, desolate city, at the end of a
nondescript road to the Armenian border. It had served as an important
stopping point on the original Silk Road and at its height nearly
200,000 people lived here. Again we were alone, walking within
20m-high sand-coloured walls that provided respite from the sun. The
once grand monuments were now forlorn buildings, ruptured by
earthquakes and neglect. No signs told us which route to follow or
what we could or couldn't touch. Like unruly school kids we traipsed
through shops in the agora, clambered over toppled marble pillars that
once supported roofs of grand churches and investigated a vast broken
monastery while swifts darted above.
At the far end of the site an earthquake had shifted some buildings on
to Armenian territory. "You could be shot if you go there," Denis
warned; a reminder of its recent past. We saw clearly the
orange-topped lookout posts on the other side of the hills and I
couldn't quite shake the fanciful feeling that I was being watched
through crosshairs.
On our final days Denis navigated us and our minivan across mountains
drenched in tea plantations and cloud, and over roads that were still
being built to connect east to west. Our last excursion late one
afternoon took us to the Greek Orthodox Sumela monastery, founded in
the fourth century and carved out of the cliffs.
According to Denis this was normally a busy tourist attraction, but
the snowmelt that poured across the approach road and down into the
valley had put off visitors. Inside the complex, mist and rain
rendered the scene ethereal, while the views across the valley were
wrapped in thick cloud. Two-hundred-year-old fresco s appeared almost
freshly painted in the torchlight of the chapel. As we set off back
down the precarious track in the dwindling light, I noticed that we
were, once again, the only visitors there.
Travel essentials
Getting there
Simon Duncan travelled as a guest of Anatolian Sky Holidays (0844 273
3586; anatoliansky.co.uk) which offers a seven-night `North Eastern
Anatolia' small group tour incorporating Van, Dogubeyazit, Kars, Rize
and Trabzon from £1,499pp. The price includes return Turkish Airlines
flights from the UK (Birmingham, Heathrow or Manchester) via Istanbul,
the services of an English-speaking guide and driver; seven nights'
accommodation with breakfast and lunch included; entrance fees and
excursions, including Hosap Castle in Van, the ruins of Ani, the
fourth-century Sumela monastery and the Hagia Sophia Museum in
Trabzon. Next departure 15 Sept; departure dates for 2013 to be
announced shortly.
More information
Turkish Culture and Tourism Office (020 7839 7778; gototurkey.co.uk).
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
dramatic land
The top prize in last year's Bradt/IoS travel-writing competition was
a trip to eastern Turkey and the chance to write about it in these
pages. Here, winner Simon Duncan reveals a region rich in antiquities
but startlingly bereft of western tourists
Simon Duncan
http://www.independent.co.uk/travel/asia/eastern-turkey-where-is-everyone-even-noahs-ark-is-empty-in-this-dramatic-land-8081038.html
Sunday 26 August 2012
Timeless outlook: The Ishak Pasha Palace at Dogubeyazit
AFP
'And there is Noah's Ark." Silence greeted the prophetic scene. "I
can't see it," I said eventually. More silence. But I knew the rest of
the tour group staring at the hillside, in the shadow of Mount Ararat,
couldn't see it either. Our guide, Denis, outlined the contours of the
hill again trying to make us see a boat shape while we willed him to
succeed.
"You can see better on the photos," he said, conceding defeat. We
ventured inside to a makeshift museum, a stale, round room looking
over the hillside and protected by a white-haired man who sat at a
table, smoking. The yellowing aerial photographs showed the outline of
a boat, but archaeologists continue to survey and argue the
provenance. What struck me even more was that here were the apparent
remains of one of the great stories of the Bible and we were the only
visitors. It had been a recurring theme of my trip.
Part of the allure of visiting this part of eastern Turkey, was that
10 years ago it would have been near impossible to do so. Much of the
area was heavily militarised, with relations tense along the border
with Armenia and Iran. Tourists were vetted and chaperoned. Now, with
only the presentation of passports at occasional checkpoints to bother
us, we had the freedom to move about. Nevertheless, this part of the
country has been slow, or unwilling, to cash in on the European
tourist market. Guests at the busy hotels we stayed in appeared to be
fairly local; Iranians on a weekend break or Turkish families on a
trip to the seaside.
>From our starting place, Lake Van, we spent a week travelling north
via minibus, running parallel with Turkey's eastern border, winding
our way across extinct lava fields in which the black rock had churned
the vast green emptiness. The land is rich in minerals, and zinc has
turned the soil blood-red. We would stop for tea and to stretch our
legs on the plains and feast on endless watermelons.
On a hillside overlooking the town of Dogubeyazit, a few miles from
the Iranian border and Noah's Ark, stood the proud 17th-century Ishak
Pasha Palace. The Sultan was apparently so pleased with this creation
that he had his architect's hands cut off to prevent him designing
another. We were the only people there to appreciate the Ottoman
architecture and panoramic scenery. As we left, a tribe of
schoolchildren appeared from nowhere. "Hello! Hello!" they shouted,
pleased with using their one English word and giggling when we
repeated it back. Their teachers insisted on taking a photo as the
children gathered around the exotic strangers. When we drove away we
were waved off like royalty.
Further north, we came to Ani, a grand, desolate city, at the end of a
nondescript road to the Armenian border. It had served as an important
stopping point on the original Silk Road and at its height nearly
200,000 people lived here. Again we were alone, walking within
20m-high sand-coloured walls that provided respite from the sun. The
once grand monuments were now forlorn buildings, ruptured by
earthquakes and neglect. No signs told us which route to follow or
what we could or couldn't touch. Like unruly school kids we traipsed
through shops in the agora, clambered over toppled marble pillars that
once supported roofs of grand churches and investigated a vast broken
monastery while swifts darted above.
At the far end of the site an earthquake had shifted some buildings on
to Armenian territory. "You could be shot if you go there," Denis
warned; a reminder of its recent past. We saw clearly the
orange-topped lookout posts on the other side of the hills and I
couldn't quite shake the fanciful feeling that I was being watched
through crosshairs.
On our final days Denis navigated us and our minivan across mountains
drenched in tea plantations and cloud, and over roads that were still
being built to connect east to west. Our last excursion late one
afternoon took us to the Greek Orthodox Sumela monastery, founded in
the fourth century and carved out of the cliffs.
According to Denis this was normally a busy tourist attraction, but
the snowmelt that poured across the approach road and down into the
valley had put off visitors. Inside the complex, mist and rain
rendered the scene ethereal, while the views across the valley were
wrapped in thick cloud. Two-hundred-year-old fresco s appeared almost
freshly painted in the torchlight of the chapel. As we set off back
down the precarious track in the dwindling light, I noticed that we
were, once again, the only visitors there.
Travel essentials
Getting there
Simon Duncan travelled as a guest of Anatolian Sky Holidays (0844 273
3586; anatoliansky.co.uk) which offers a seven-night `North Eastern
Anatolia' small group tour incorporating Van, Dogubeyazit, Kars, Rize
and Trabzon from £1,499pp. The price includes return Turkish Airlines
flights from the UK (Birmingham, Heathrow or Manchester) via Istanbul,
the services of an English-speaking guide and driver; seven nights'
accommodation with breakfast and lunch included; entrance fees and
excursions, including Hosap Castle in Van, the ruins of Ani, the
fourth-century Sumela monastery and the Hagia Sophia Museum in
Trabzon. Next departure 15 Sept; departure dates for 2013 to be
announced shortly.
More information
Turkish Culture and Tourism Office (020 7839 7778; gototurkey.co.uk).
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress