Eastern Turkey: from Sanliurfa to Erzurum

From Sunday 19 December 2021 to Thursday 30 December 2021

Sanliurfa

We leave the beautiful region of Cappadocia to go to the southeast of the country, to Sanliurfa. Again, we take a night bus, the best alternative when we have a long journey. It allows us not to lose a day and especially to save a night of hotel 😁. We arrive at our destination on time, in spite of the 30 minutes of the bus of delay at the beginning.

In Sanliurfa, a new adventure awaits us: that of the Couchsurfing. We had already heard a lot about it and we had been tempted several times, without never jumping the step. Marc and Victorien have moreover privileged the Couchsurfing during their trip and given that Victorien still sticks to us, it is the moment to try.

We join the apartment of our host, Fatma in city bus. And as we did not find how to buy a card of transport and as it does not seem possible to buy it directly to the driver of bus, we do not pay the first bus. As for the second bus, a man helps us by validating his card for us against 10 liras (0,60 €).

Fatma's apartment is spacious, and the kitchen is filled with small plants (she does research for the government in the field of plant biology). While Fatma goes back to bed after having welcomed us, we decide to make a small nap.

Sanliurfa means "Urfa the glorious" and owes this name to the legendary resistance against the French troops in 1920 who occupied the city since 1919. Urfa has a population of about 2.5 million, of which 1.5 million are Turks and 1 million are Kurds.

We begin the visit of the city by the archaeological museum, the largest of Turkey, which traces the history of the man in the area since the paleolithic period. The entire museum is composed of a succession of scenes that trace the way of life of prehistoric men. All of this is accompanied by exhaustive explanations of the major periods and archaeological objects. It would take a whole day to read all the information and certainly a week to integrate it! We complete the tour with a visit to the mosaic museum of Edessa.

Fatma picks us up by car, accompanied by one of her friends, and offers to take us to our next visit: the prehistoric site of Göbekli Tepe, the oldest temple of humanity. Before reaching the site, we attend an incredible cinematography set up by the museum representing the life of the prehistoric men.

Fatma leads us then in the city center of Urfa and makes us discover the "Menengic coffee", a local specialty composed of a coffee sprinkled with pistachio. We take advantage of it to explore the old bazaar, even if many stores are closed at 18h. We go to see the cave of Abraham, the place of birth of the prophet in question. Men and women enter in two separate entrances. Victor and I make the visit separated by a screen.

There are many legends about Abraham in the region. One of them tells that Abraham lived in this cave until he was 7 years old, to escape the fury of the Assyrian king Nemrut, who was convinced that a newborn child would one day steal his throne. For this reason, he has all newborns murdered. Abraham survives and fights against the idea of polytheism in force at the time. King Nemrut captures him and has him killed. God intervenes and turns Abraham into fish and the embers into water. From this legend, remains today the lake "Balikli" whose fish are sacred and whose waters are reputed to be curative.

Right next to the lake is the Mevlidi mosque and one of the oldest universities in the world.

We have dinner with Fatma and her friend in a typical restaurant then we finish our evening by listening to traditional Turkish music in live. We immerse ourselves in the night life of Urfa, and even if the cultural codes miss us, we take pleasure there. I even have the chance to learn a traditional dance with Victorien and Fatma. Victor prefers to watch from afar, to film us and laugh at us discreetly. The men play drums and sing (only men can sing in this kind of place). The tips, numerous, are thrown directly on the musicians. The drummer sets his drum on fire several times, ensures the show and collects more and more tickets. The men on our right do not hesitate to throw bundles of large bills. One is authorized to film everyone, except them. We wonder one moment if that would not be men of the mafia...

We are sitting, barefoot, on cushions on the floor. In front of us, the tables are filled with baskets of fruits, drinks and other small snacks. The waiter passes in front of us and seems to offer us a small coffee. We do not know very well if it is offered or if it is paying. The answer it is Fatma who brings it to us: the tradition wants that the customers drink the coffee then return the cup hand to hand to the waiter. If the cup is put on the table, the waiter will ask for a tip. So we will pay a tip for this time 😅.

Fatma explains to us that she comes here very regularly, even every night some weeks. We understand that we are in the presence of the privileged youth of Turkey. And the return to the house way "fast and furious" of Fatma confirms it to us. She specifies to us that the speed controls do not frighten her, one of her friends in the police force takes care of it for her.

Mardin

After a good night's sleep on Fatma's sofa (Victorien had the right to the room), we take a bus towards Mardin.

On the road, the bus is stopped by a police control. We don't understand very well what's going on, it seems that the policemen are checking the identity of the Kurds. They ask us for our passports, give us back Victor's almost immediately, take mine to one of their colleagues outside. After several minutes of waiting, the colleague in question enters in his turn in the bus, asks me my profession, discusses during several minutes with his colleagues and gives me back my passport. We do not know too much what has just happened. One wonders if it is the stamp of the immigration that they had difficulty to find (it is however quite visible) or if it is the other visas that my passport contains that they did not like 🤷🏼.

On top of this, the bus drops us off well before the scheduled stop and tells us to take the city bus. The driver of the city bus in question is not happy at all to see us disembarking with our backpacks. And we understand why, when, some stops further, it is so full that people don't know where to put themselves. And we are very embarrassed to impose our backpacks to them.

Again, we have to change bus. Finally, this journey of 3 hours initially lasted 5 hours.

Mardin, it is a city situated very close to the Syrian border, where the majority of the population is Kurdish.

Obviously, when we announced a few days ago to the Turks that we were going to Mardin, they warned us. The relations between Kurds and Turks are tense, it is not a surprise. We spent a very good traditional Turkish evening the old one, and we do not know it yet, but we will spend in some hours a very pleasant moment with Kurds. It is a mostly medieval city, built on a hill which gives a splendid view on the Mesapotanian plains. This magnificent view, we will not see it, it will remain hidden behind the thick fog and the incessant rain.

The hotel we chose is nice. The clean and spacious room, the walls covered with stones remind us of the cellar room we had booked in Gorëme (Cappadocia). There is even a well in the room, covered with a glass plate.

Our things deposited, we put ourselves in search of a coffee to escape the rain and to warm up. We find a kind of inn, the manager, Saddam, is sitting in front of his homemade stove (a simple iron barrel and a pipe put above, fed by the bars of the chairs) with one of his friends. He invites us to join them. We drink tea and coffee. And if the conversation is shy at the beginning, tea and coffee give way to raki and home-made wine (only one glass because it is foul), beer and gin and tonic. Saddam also makes us discover his wine liqueur, made by him. It is excellent!

We finally stay the evening with him and his friends, singing, eating, drinking home-made wine (which is bad, it must be said), and dancing. Saddam is Kurdish, he explains us how he worked for 20 years in a hotel in Germany where he learned the language and perfected his English, French and Russian. Since the arrival of COVID, it is no longer possible for him to work abroad. So he returned home, took over the family business and is expecting his first daughter.

His friends are musicians, university professors and wine growers. One of them is a former guerrilla.

This evening is expensive (alcohol is expensive in Turkey), it is our last evening in the presence of Victorien (who leaves for France tomorrow). And then, to immerse oneself in a new culture is priceless.

The next morning, waking up is difficult. Because of the excesses of the old lady, it is obvious, but also because of a water damage which took place in our room during the night. The floor is covered with several centimeters of water, our bags and a good part of our stuff are wet. Perhaps it is the water of the well which went up a little too high during the night? We discuss the problem with the reception, which invites us to take our breakfast (included in the room) while they settle the problem. When we return in the room, we see well that they removed the surplus of water on the floor and put the heating in bottom. Even so, our things are still wet. It is 10 hours, the check-out is at 11 am. And the reception makes us understand that we can't be late. There is no chance that our things dry in one hour without the help of a dryer. The reception says to us that they do not have a dryer and as they do not speak a word of English, they call somebody who will act as a translator. They finally ask us to bring them our things and bring them back to us 20 minutes later, partially dry. We understand that we cannot obtain better.

The rain did not stop, is even worse than yesterday. The fog has not lifted. We will not be able to enjoy the visit of Mardin.

We have just enough time to buy our bus tickets to leave the city, to have a bite to eat before heading to the bus station. This is where we part ways: Victorien starts his journey back to France while Victor and I go to the north of the country, hoping to enjoy the snow in Erzurum for Christmas.

The bus station is crowded. We see people arriving singing, some women crying. It is the departure of the young men for their military service, obligatory in Turkey.

We have chosen to divide our journey to Erzurum into two stages. The first stage takes us to Bingöl from Mardin and the second stage will take us to Erzurum. However, the bus station of Bingöl is not indicated in the right place on Google. During our research, we had seen several hotels next to the bus station, however where the bus drops us off, there is nothing around. Not even a restaurant! We are a little bit annoyed, it is 9 pm and we absolutely do not want to take a cab to go downtown to try to find a hotel. No, we decide to advance the hour of our next bus to 2:30 am and we lie down on a bench in the bus station.

Erzurum

We reach Erzurum around 5 am and it is -16 degrees Celsius. We wait for the city bus service to start and at 6 am, we are on the way to our hotel. The few minutes that we spend outside are enough for us to understand the atmosphere: roads and sidewalks are frozen, enormous stalactites are present in front of every store, and on the body of buses and cars. At the beginning, we find it rather funny, of course. It is much less when we see these same stalactites crashing on the ground at our feet! We understand that the danger in Erzurum does not come only from the frozen ground, but also from the roofs above our heads!

The hotel authorizes us to realize our check-in earlier than foreseen and we collapse on the bed as soon as we close the door. At 9:45 am, we go to the breakfast, included in the price of the room. We planned to stay 5 days in Erzurum, to settle down a little, to think about the continuation of our trip and to spend Christmas on the ski runs!

Around 4 pm, we leave our hotel room to discover a little the city. We stop to drink a coffee, we play a little in the snow, we go to dinner. And then we return quietly to our hotel, even if we rested this afternoon, the tiredness is still there.

The next morning, we go to the Iranian consulate to try to make accelerate our request of visa for Iran. It is already more than one week that we made it and we did not have any return. When we arrive at the consulate, the receptionist tells us that his system does not work, we have to return in one hour.

We thus take advantage of it to visit the house of Attaturk, an emblematic figure of Turkey about which we spoke very little until now. It was time that we inform ourselves a little more about him, his life. Unfortunately, no information is in English...

We then try to go to the museum of the city of Erzurum which is closed.

We fall back then on the museum of the Islamic art. The building is very beautiful, the doors inside are very small, it is necessary to bend in two to enter. We see traditional clothes and jewels, weapons, carpets and calligraphied Korans.

We then go back to the consulate, where the consul himself informs us that Iran does not currently issue visas for French people because of the COVID. It is apparently a news of last minute because it is impossible for us to find a trace of this rule on Internet. We are disappointed, we understand that we cannot go to Iran. It was a big part of our trip so we have now to think to reorganize ourselves and to see the options which are offered to us.

To finish our day, we visit the citadel of the city, which consists mainly of a set of walls surrounding a tower. At the top of the tower, we have a pleasant view on the snowy city.

We finish by a walk towards the three tombs and we return to put ourselves in the warmth in the hotel. We have to prepare the next days that we will spend in the ski.

It is while getting out of the shower, that evening, that a drama occurs: Victor banged his toe so hard against the shower's edge that he screamed in pain. When I arrived in the bathroom, I saw him holding his toe, bleeding. His toenail has lifted from the impact. We make a makeshift bandage for the night and we give ourselves until the next day to really evaluate the level of pain.

Unfortunately, the pain was still there the next morning and Victor could not walk properly. A little constrained by a worried Emeline, he agrees to consult.

The hotel calls us a cab, we are immediately received by a host from the hospital. Maybe it's because it's a private hospital, but hosts and hostesses are present from the moment we enter the building and accompany the patients through their treatment. We are escorted by a young man who takes us to see an orthopedic doctor. At the doctor's request, Victor goes for an X-ray. Our host accompanies us to do the administrative papers and then brings us back to see the doctor. The verdict falls, a crack is present on the bone of the big toe. Victor has to wear a splint for 10 days minimum and then has to go back to the doctor for a check-up. The doctor puts the splint on, which must not be removed, and puts a bandage on the foot. Since Victor can no longer wear his shoe (the splint is too big), he is given an overshoe.

Of course, skiing is strictly forbidden!

Our host takes us back to the exit and calls us a cab.

It is our program of the next days which has just been turned upside down. We understand that we shall not be able to make much except staying in the hotel and going out to eat in the surroundings.

Before returning to the hotel, we leave to the search of a pair of shoes that Victor could wear with his splint. The problem is that the Turks are rather small in size and that Victor usually shoes of the 45. No store has shoes of such a big size, then we do not even imagine to find one or two paintings above. After several stores, we find shoes (size 44) that are flexible enough to be folded in the back. With a set of laces, the shoe holds up pretty well.

That's how Victor ended up walking around with two different shoes for 3 weeks...

The rest of our stay in Erzurum continues calmly, alternating moments of rest and moments of visit. Obviously, with Victor's foot, the visits remain very brief and few.

The desire was too big, we nevertheless pushed the foot until the ski resort Palandöken the day of Christmas. It is very charming, well maintained and with a beautiful sight on the mountain. We can only imagine the view from the cable cars and the summits.

Before going down again towards Erzurum, we promise ourselves to return there... with the two feet in good condition this time...