The plane to Ankara took a massive
bowleg to avoid Syrian and Iraqi airspace, flying over Iran and then
curving west to fly down the length of Turkey. It was kind of
disappointing given my travel insurance policy insured me for both
Syria and Iraq and it could have saved a good chunk of time... ah, first world problems. I
starred down, wowed by the unbroken aridity of the landscape I
planned to cross over the next ten days. Aside from the Jordanian
desert I'd have to say it looked like I was in for experiencing a
landscape harsher than any other I'd travelled through so far.
Browny-golden hills, flowing in a rhythmic pattern, testimony to the winds that had eroded their
slopes, extended for hundreds of kilometres, broken only by large,
open expanses of steppe and the occasional foreboding division of a canyon. Suddenly we were over a solid body of dark blue. Lake Van. The lake was such a contrast to the light ochres of the steppe, and destined to be my last stop in the country.
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| Hmmmm.... |
Getting off the plane in Ankara I was
one of the first off the plane and was bound to be the first person
in the visa line if it wasn't for a plain clothes policeman that took
me to an interrogation room with a desk advertising Iraqi Visas. The
check appeared completely random. I guess I was young, male and alone
which made me a target. He asked questions about why I had no flight
booked out of Turkey and standard questions about accommodation but
weirdly no questions specifically targeted towards whether I planned
to go to any of Turkey's more volatile regions with current
separatist conflicts, or bordering war-torn states. After taking a copy of my passport I was free
to go.
Returning to the line I was now stuck
behind three Arab families, each with two wives and at least five
children. The border officers were slow processing their documents
and I waited behind them for a good twenty minutes before the
uniformed man gestured for me to approach the desk. He quickly looked
at my e-visa print out, stamped my passport and I was officially on
Turkish soil. With the interrogation and the wait time my pack was
already waiting for me and I anxiously left the double doors to be
greeted by the unrelenting Anatolian sun, the air dry and sitting on
just upwards of thirty-five degrees despite being around 6pm.
I jumped onto the first bus I saw
heading for the city, not having any idea whatsoever where I was
going. For the 35km ride it cost a mere 8 Lira, or 4 AUD. The traffic
was hectic and the ride took around 40mins. No one spoke English so I
just gave it the benefit of the doubt and stayed on until the last
stop before showing the driver the address of the accommodation I had
booked. He nodded at me and drove off. Great.
I went to the closest shops and asked
again. For some strange reason the one person that spoke English was
a man that was likely at least seventy and Kurdish, judging by his vest. By some remote happenstance I was a mere four streets away
and the walk took all of about five minutes. Sometimes you just get
lucky. I checked in and went for a walk around the bustling
commercial hub of the capital, buying some street food, again working
my way through that one with a lot of gesturing and pointing. For a major national capital not a lot of people speak English. At least some
Turkish was going to be essential to not feel like a complete idiot.
The following morning I tried to sleep
in but just couldn't, my body clock waking me up at around 6am. I just
got out of bed, dressed and walked out into the street with intention
of finding some breakfast and the vague plan of navigating the city
to find Ankara castle, some 2-3km away. I found a place to
sit down and got what I can best describe as the Turkish equivalent
of a toasted panini, the obligatory Chai, and a big glass
of freshly squeezed orange juice. In typical Ankara style it came to
the equivalent of about four Australian dollars and I likely got over
charged. During my time in Ankara I saw a small handful of other
tourists but it seems that prices on almost anything change depending
who you are and how much you bargain. With experience I would learn
that this even applies to big franchises like Vodafone.
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| Finding my way to the fortress |
Leaving I walked down Ankara's main
boulevards, sticking to a park for most of it. I knew roughly where
the fortress was and just followed my nose without bothering to look
at the streets the receptionist in my accommodation had recommended I
follow. I just kept heading up and soon enough began walking through
the dilapidated Ottoman old town, its intricate facades of white
interspersed with ornate wood carvings crumbling. I couldn't believe
such prime real estate, with views right across the city and such
history was allowed to be reduced to this rather than be snapped up
for development.
I walked through mazes of narrow
alleyways before passing under an arch in the old town walls and
scrambling up a sketchy short wall to the beginning of the castle
ramparts. I don't think it was the normal way but it got me up just
fine. The view was stunning and I was up there all alone. I couldn't
believe it, being a such a major city in peak tourist season. People had told me in the
past that no tourists come to Ankara but I had taken it with a grain
of salt. Now it seemed they really are few and far between. Weird,
given the popularity of Turkey as a travel destination on a whole.
I sat, dangling my feet from the
cliffier, higher side for a while, enjoying the breeze. A German
couple came up and I talked to them for a bit before heading to the
other side of the hill to check out the other part of the castle.
Unfortunately the wall that once passed between the two is long gone,
forcing you down into the alleyways below rather than following the
ridge. I still couldn't get over just how run down the old town was. The top of the hill was no better with many cobblestones
missing from the roads, dust and grime everywhere and a population
that largely seemed to be struggling heavily financially.
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| The approach to the second castle |
I tried multiple approaches to the
fortress but no avail. First I walked along a narrow path cut into
the steep hill side that the castle crowns but the walls were
unrelenting, providing no egress. On second attempt I headed up a
path that looked more promising, winding its way up to a place that
looked more than logical for the entrance to the ancient citadel.
Nothing. Just the barking of a dog, at first distant, then appearing, now charging my way. I sprinted back down the alley, frantic. The dog
looked pretty damn viscous and was gaining on me.
After maybe a hundred metres it
suddenly halted, gave one last bark and turned back the way it
came. I felt relieved to say the least. With the state of the
buildings it felt like quite the sketchy neighbourhood to begin with. I sat down for a bit in the shade. By this stage the day had real heated up and the running really made me realise it.
 |
| The restored part of the Ottoman Old Town |
On the way back down I stumbled into a
restored and very touristy part of the old town that had somehow
evaded me on the way up. It was obviously designed for tourists with
restaurants with jacked up prices and commoditised local handy crafts
but I didn't see a single foreigner. Ankara's tourism industry is
booming.
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| Detail of Ankara's dilapidated back streets |
