June 23rd, 2009
The Highs and Lows of Living in Cappadocia
Originally printed in Good Teacher Magazine: Term 4, 2007, page 32 – 34
Ever had one of those dreams where you are flying through the air with no visible means of support (very much like us teachers), where everything is deadly quiet around you, you have this wonderful view of the surrounding countryside, the wind is ruffling through what is left of your hair, you believe you are one with the gods when suddenly you crash and come to your senses.
Well welcome to hot air ballooning Cappadocia style.
Well the “love of my life Finona” (lomlF) and I, having heard so much about the wonders of this incredible experience decided to save our drachmas and indulge in what was truly one of the most amazing things I have ever done. Although the cost was high, anywhere between 150 Euro and 230 Euro (290 – 450 $NZ) it was well worth it.
As “lomlF” and I were being paid a pittance it took us some time to save up for this luxury.
When we woke to the sound of the alarm that momentous morning all I could think of was the amount of cheap Turkish wine we’d had the night before. The thought of going sailing with the birds at 1000 ft was not an exciting prospect and it was also only 5.30am. Having dodged the amorous “lomlF” and struggled out of bed, I showered and had my Turkish pick me up, a cup of the tar that they commonly call coffee over here.
Standing on the side of the road at 5.55am I could just get a glimpse of the dawn breaking over the mountains, a very faint pink and gold colour. It was going to be a momentous day.
We had chosen a company that was the cheapest we could find and after much bargaining we had eventually got them to knock 10% off the price on the condition that they could use us as ballast and that we rode on the outside of the basket. (Just kidding). When the van arrived we understood how they could give such a cheap price, as they certainly weren’t spending money on transportation.
We arrived at the launch site and Cape Canaveral it certainly wasn’t. Apparently they move the site depending on the wind and conditions on the day. The balloon was draped across the ground like a very large, brightly coloured unrolled French letter. We were invited to partake of croissant and coffee while the menials scurried round getting everything in order.
Suddenly there was the sound of a 747 taking off. My reflexes were up to the challenge and with amazing dexterity and courage I threw myself flat on the ground. Realising that nobody else had been so quick (they were all still standing) I looked around and realised that it was the burner igniting which they required to start to blow up the balloon. Having dusted myself off and tried to remove the goats droppings from my jumper we watched as the aforesaid long tube steadily became more and more rampant until at last there it was fully erect and tugging at the ropes that held it firmly to the ground.
We had decided to take our video camera and to take a film of the experience as most of the kids at the school had never been on a balloon before.
With “lomlF” manning (or should it be womanning) the camera (appropriate, as I am the star of this story) I was helped into the basket by one of the attendants. No brightly coloured uniform for this crowd, it was strictly jeans and jumpers all round. I then very courteously helped “lomlF” into the balloon, along with the other 14 passengers and the 2 pilots. With a roar of the burner and an “up, up and away” they released the ropes and we started to climb rapidly. It seemed to rise faster than the average plane probably because we were in this small shopping basket that they were using and the feeling of danger was considerably heightened.
The sensation was of absolute freedom. In between the roar of the burner it was deathly still. There was no feeling of rising or falling. Just this sensation of floating above the world. Absolutely wonderful. After 5 minutes we had climbed high enough to witness the glory of the dawn over Cappadocia. The shadows made the landscape even more surrealistic than it was normally, with its natural towers of what is called tufaceous rock standing like a very disorganised army of stone giants.
By the time we were at an altitude where we could see the sun we were approaching Goreme. Here we had the most amazing view of the townspeople getting ready to start the day. We dropped down to about 50 ft off the ground at this stage and our pilot was able to control the height with the judicious use of the aforementioned burner. With “lomlF” videoing every move we were able to catch a lot of the kids from school on film. In fact once the word got out it was like a veritable pied piper with us being the piper at 50 odd feet and a trail of children chasing us down the road. The kids were popping out of their cave houses like rabbits out of warrens.
What made things more interesting was that we were drifting across town but not in line with the streets. So not only was it a matter of the pied piper and the trail of kids but they were also having to take part in a mini steeplechase as they climbed over the fences and stone walls that surrounded the homes. We left Goreme and the trail of kids and drifted across the landscape for over an hour seeing a small part of this beautiful scenery with its amazing valleys and caves and incredible cave houses.
Eventually we reached the area where we were to land and we began a nice slow descent. Unfortunately nobody had bothered to tell our pilot about the large poplar like tree that was directly between the landing ground and us. No problem to this kamikaze pilot who went straight thru the tree with the only slight problem being the basket tilting over to be level with the ground and the screams of the passengers. A matter of milliseconds later we hit the ground with the same gentleness as a large bag of cement. We were all spilled onto the ground and after we had disentangled ourselves we were treated to a glass of very welcome bubbly. We were then presented with our badly interpreted souvenir certificates to show that we had survived the experience.
The following day “lomlF” and I were back at school reliving this experience with our kids. What amazed me the most was the absolute delight of the children when they were able to see the view of their homes and themselves from a different perspective. It made me realise how absolutely privileged we are in NZ where we have such incredible opportunities available to us all the time.
Over a few drinks that evening with more of the bad (but cheap) Turkish wine and a couple of the locals we were regaled with stories of how harsh justice was in Turkey. The local innkeeper where we had stayed when we first arrived in Goreme told us of his experience when he was renovating his hotel. The hotel was partially above ground with a few rooms built into the hill face. It was thus thought of as a national treasure which could only be altered by agreement with the local council. Apparently he had permission to change some of the structure but nothing to say he could change the steps leading up to his entrance. After he had finished his renovations he was arrested and charged with altering the steps without authorisation. The judge said to him a number of times “now Mr ………… you didn’t alter the steps did you.” But being a truthful Turk he replied that he had. He was eventually found guilty and spent some months in prison for this dastardly crime.
One of the things that Cappadocia is famous for is the underground cities. It is believed that there are about 300 of them of all different sizes and types. Some of the cities are thought to be 4000 years old and they are mentioned in the writings of Xenophen of about 400BC. Also Genesis (Gen 23:20, 49:30, 50:13) has mentions of the Hittites and caves. They can be up to 90 metres deep.
Two stories of underground living!
There is a theory that they were built (dug) by the Hittites as secure storage areas and then were extended and used by Christians who were being persecuted by the Romans. Other theories are that they were created later by the Phrygians as a line of defence against the Assyrians or that they were excavated during the Roman or Byzantine times. Its unlikely that they were ever built as a permanent settlement but they were clearly built to withstand attacks and could support large numbers of people and animals for long periods of time. Extensive networks of passages linked family rooms and communal areas where people would meet work and worship. The cities were complete with wells, chimneys for air circulation, niches for oil lamps, stores, water tanks, stables and areas where the dead could be placed until such time as conditions on the surface would allow their proper disposal. Most importantly, carefully balanced stone doors resembling large mill stones about 8 feet across and 2 feet thick were carved out of the rock to quickly block the corridors in the event of attack. Of course they could only be opened from the inside. There was normally a hole in the middle about 6 inches across for the defenders to fire arrows at the invaders and to put a piece of wood through to open the stone door. They were very heavy.
Well, having shown the kids the highs of the area, I thought it would be really good to take them to see the lows of the area as well, as in one of the buried cities.
The one we chose is called Derinkuyu. This city which is about 18 to 20 stories deep was only discovered in 1963 and it is believed that up to 20,000 people lived here. It contains at least 15,000 ventilation ducts, which provided fresh air deep within the bowels of the earth.
Well we planned the trip for the following Monday and went through the rigmarole of getting parent helpers and permission slips from all the parents. By Friday it was all organised and we proceeded to give the kids the mandatory talk about behaving themselves and that any valuable artifacts found were to be given to one of the 2 teachers (“lomlF” and myself) and that we would have the right to dispose of them as we saw fit.
Monday morning saw all of us arrive at the school at a breathtaking time of 7.30am. It was an hour’s drive to the site of the city and by the time we had arrived, unpacked all and sundry and lined up and completed a count it was 9.30.
The city has all the usual amenities found in other underground complexes (wine and oil presses, stables, cellars, storage rooms, refectories and chapels.) What is unique to this city is on the 2nd floor a spacious room with a barrel vault (believed to be a religious school), then between the 3rd and 4th floor is a vertical staircase which leads to a cruciform church on the lowest level. Each floor has a large stone, which can be rolled across to isolate the floor in case of attack.
Things were going really well. We had been to all the niches and I had explained the areas where they crushed the grapes for the wine and where they collected the grape juice, shown them some of the ventilation shafts, and the stables and the areas where they had their candles. We had been to the vaulted room where in the time honoured manner of all zealots I had sat the children down and talked about religious tolerance especially between Christian and Muslim. Like all Turks they were very polite and listened patiently until I had finished. I suppose I should also point out that the only lighting was a single power line, which ran between the surface and the lowest point, which we reached after navigating the vertical stairs, and we then entered the church. The power line went down the stairs and through the doorway.
Stone door on an upper floor
Things were going so well that I let my normal attention slip. As previously mentioned there were big millstones at the entrance to each level. They were positioned so that they were on a sloping groove, which sloped so that if the door were unencumbered it would roll closed. The only thing keeping the door open was a rock in the shape of a wedge. Completely secure I thought. Not so when you consider the devious minds of the little genius’s in my care. While I was expounding on the masterful way that the past inhabitants had built this amazing church, 3 of my little charmers were struggling to free the door from its encumbrances.
You might wonder what is the worst sound you could ever hear when you are 40 feet underground. No, its not the sound of an earthquake, it’s the sound of rock against rock as a very large and very heavy round rock rolls shut removing any chance of escaping from this underground tomb. This sound was a millisecond ahead of the lights failing as the stone door tore the sole power line to shreds. Ever been in a place that is totally black. It’s not a good place to be.
What do you do? Well, on the advice of “lomlF” I asked all the kids and parents to sit down where they were. We then asked everyone if anyone had a lighter or matches. One of my 13- year-olds replied that he had a lighter and produced it and flicked it on. With the ice broken, 10 of the fifteen boys in my class then admitted that they also had lighters. Smoking is endemic in Turkey it seems. Keeping just one lighter going we sat down and looked at our challenges. The door was solid rock. Although it had a hole in the door it could only be opened from our side. It was also bloody heavy. To be able to move it we really needed to get some leverage. There was nothing around. We had really run out of options.
Ventilation Shaft
What do you do when everything seems hopeless?
You do what every good teacher does.
Ask for another opinion.
So, I turned to “lomlF” and said “Darling, this was your idea, What are you going to do?” Surprisingly she turned our challenge into a learning experience. She talked to the group and reminded them of our predicament. She then asked everybody to try and remember what was special about this underground city. Silence descended and you could almost hear the cogs clicking over, interspersed with the expletives from the young man holding the lighter as it heated up and burnt his fingers. Good, I thought, until his light was extinguished as the pain became unbearable. No problem as one of the other kids flicked his lighter on.
A lone and plaintive voice spoke in the semi gloom and reminded us that this was one of the few cities that had wooden poles to hold up the passageways. They were normally in the lower levels where the pressure was the greatest. Why didn’t we see if we could find a piece of wood and use it to roll the door open.
What a great idea I thought, so without further ado I organised a search party and we moved to the next level down. Brushing past the signs that said Danger etc., we progressed down two further levels only being hindered by rockfalls. These apparently are a problem in this city.
We searched using the light of a lighter and eventually found a piece of wood 1.5 metres long and about 100mm thick. We returned to the church with our precious find, and being in charge of the group I turned the organisation of opening the door over to “lomlF”. She organised 3 of the larger male parents to hold on to the wood and poke the other end thru the small hole in the door. She then told them to move to the left holding the wood perfectly stiff. As with our experience with the young Turkish men in Assos (see previous story) they appreciated the direction, especially coming from a woman. However terror overcame pride and they worked together very well. Wonder of wonders the door slowly opened. It was a revelation and I suddenly realised how Jesus must have felt after the crucifixion. Well to cut a long story short we eventually arrived back at school a little late but a lot wiser.
All in all it was a successful day. I wasn’t transferred and I think that we all learnt a lot from the experience.
See you next time.
Travelling Teacher