Adventures between Christmas and New Year

The annoying rattle of the door handle that leads from our hotel room into our children’s shakes me from slumber; at first I think it is a wakeful child pestering us. From the fug of sleep I realise the bed is moving and a low rumbling from deep below is building up: a heavy lorry passing? It only takes seconds for me to catch on but even then I do nothing. What should you do when the ground is shaking beneath the 15 storey building you and your children are sleeping in? It is only a few minutes before stillness envelops us again but now Dave is awake too. We sat up in our kingsize Hilton bed wondering if this was the build up to a bigger shake. ‘Yes’, the concierge replies calmly when I call down to the front desk, ‘It was an earthquake. Nothing to worry. Don’t coming downstairs madam. No problem.’

We silently (and dozily) contemplate this information. How many times have we heard that before? The Turks are eternal optimists: ‘Problem yok’ (‘no problem’) is their mantra. By saying it we ensure there will be no problem (even if we think there may actually be a tinsy winsy leak in your plumbing/ hole in your tyre/ extra charge on your bill) And its true: their benevolent attitude does often pay off, and they probably know more about their earthquakes than we do. Nevertheless, we read the fire safety instructions and locate the nearest stairs on the map; in case. Ayelen gets up to go to the loo and asks what’s up. ‘Problem yok’ we reply. See? Even we have the hang of it now. The boys turn over in bed.

There are no horns blaring outside, no sirens, and no swarm of masses seeking cover. I peek outside: the city of Ankara is frosted with a layer of sparkling ice and it sleeps soundly. There are no holes in the ground.

‘Problem yok’ we agree and go back to sleep.

At breakfast the next day there are mostly business people discreetly taking the healthy option: no one holds back from their plates of olives, cheese and cucumbers. And no one says the dreaded word. We are glad as we don’t want to spook the children. Is this what it’s like the day after an earthquake? Can’t have been much of a deal. Maybe everyone slept through it.

The children in question are happily carbo loading for the long car journey to our final destination of Goreme, a small village at the heart of an extraordinary valley that was sculptured by lava and moulded by water 50 million years ago in an area known as Cappadocia. All the boys needed to know was that its surreal landscape was featured in a major Star Wars movie (which one? Answers on a postcard for all those fans…..)

We endured unpleasant foggy and icy conditions on the road the day before and are keen to clear some kilometers in daylight. Firstly, in an attempt to understand something of the fascination that the man has for the Turks, we make a very brief and very cold visit to the truly monumental mausoleum in Ankara where Ataturk (founder of the Republic) is buried. We then rev up the Volvo ready for the next leg. The outskirsts of the capital are as depressingly run down and industrial as any other city’s but there are no obvious signs of earthquake damage. Nevertheless I am glad not to have another night here.

After 200 km of climbing and twisting roads, the low cloud and sleet that have enveloped us disperse suddenly and we are on a flat plain with a straight road, a stunning landscape and bright blue sky. With shaking cities far behind us, it finally feels as though we are on holiday. Ah, the joy of the open road. Our mood lightens and I pick up some speed for the home stretch. The amazing volcanic rock structures and underground cities of this most unique place are almost within our vision. So is a hand written rather small sign saying ‘radar’. I decide it is quite impossible that this could be a speed control sign – out here? In the middle of nowhere? On an empty road with no speed limit indications? Nah!..Problem yok (negative). But of course Turkey is also the land of the random and unpredictable …problem var (positive) - in the shape of 3 rather bored provincial traffic police with a new toy.

It wasn’t the on the spot fine of £40 (reduced rate for cash) that bothered me as much as the sheer injustice of it. ME! The careful advanced skills driver who never cuts people up, never pulls out at junctions without looking or drives the wrong way down a dual carriageway as is the wont of the average Turkish driver. I tried the ‘no understand Turkish’ routine but I probably just gave too much away and the senior police officer very politely tried out his best few words of English. As always in Turkey, the social interaction is so agreeable that you find yourself going along with it just because you are making friends (even with traffic police – imagine!)


So..off we went again. This time we make it to destination. We are treated to the red-gold strokes of late afternoon winter sun on the most unimaginably beautiful and unusual landscape. A wide valley chopped up by ridges and plains, adorned with teethlike cones of ‘tuff’ rock described as ‘fairy chimneys’ for the tourists. The holes inside many of the towers are entrances to homes or churches. The rock itself is a golden sandy hue and today the whole enchanted scene is sprinkled liberally with glistening snowfall: icing on the cake. After so much time in the car the children are delighted to jump out and clamber around this magical place.. And there deep down in the valley is the little town of Goreme and our home for the next few days – reassuringly low rise and solid looking.

It proved to be as good as it looked and even better than the guide book descriptions. We explored underground cities 50 metres down inhabited from at least 7th century BC by trogolodytes hiding from warring invaders. We marveled at churches used by early Christians as hiding places before they became a legitimate religion and Byzantine cave churches and monastic centres with frescos dating from 9th century. There were also beautiful carpets to buy, wood fires to build and balloon rides at sunrise. By the time our 3 days was up, we had forgotten completely about our first night in Ankara and were filled with the glow of adventure.

Safely back in Istanbul on New Year’s Eve a friend remarked – ‘You were in Ankara? There was an earthquake there– 5.5 on the Richter scale the papers said.’ We scoured back copies of the Turkish Daily News and there it was on the front page: ‘our’ earthquake was a follow up from one the previous week that had measured 5.7. Over 300 buildings damaged and people out on the streets in some districts of the city. Hmm.. now we had an experience to brag about to other expats. It also made me think how isolated the wealthy are from the hardships of the average turk. As in the 1999 earthquake near Istanbul, poorer districts with badly constructed dwellings do not withstand the tremors as well as modern reinforced buildings like the Hilton.

The concierge had reassured me that the building was good up to 9 (meaning on the Richter scale). One of our boys, misunderstanding this comment and thinking he meant the tower block was only safe up to floor 9 later remarked, ‘but what good is that if you are on 12 (meaning twelfth floor). Perish the thought! Rest assured, we will be the ones asking for rooms on floors 1to8 from now on - or the underground cave dwellings!