Digital Wanderer

We live as long as we fly

☰

Turkey — 8, Uphill Climb and the Town of Edincik

2009-05-20

I realized that the philosophy I've been trying to stick to lately needs to be reinforced even more. I'm talking about how I not only haven't finished writing about the second day of Skaņu Mežs. Not only haven't I published about my long-ago trip to Riga. I haven't even had time to write about the finale of the last Forest of Sounds, because I left for America back then.

Green mesh fence with a red warning sign, behind which palm trees grow in a row under a clear blue sky. In the foreground, roadside grass with small yellow flowers is visible. Palm trees, thankfully, are present – otherwise we'd be completely done for without any exoticism

That's why I absolutely have to finish everything about Turkey come hell or high water, before I leave for somewhere else again, and while the details are still fresh in my memory. If I had a pool, I'd crank it all out in a heartbeat, that's how much it invigorates me. But I'll manage even without one, I hope.

2009-05-01 09-46-27 - 0105The first spring we encountered. Afterwards there were countless multitudes of them

From here on out, there will probably be skips over large chunks – there's nothing much to write about. After we washed the dishes, we set off wherever the road led, which meant upwards. The fact that the terrain here is hilly was palpable enough last night, but now we got the chance to see it with our own eyes.

Keep in mind that I took the photos with my ultracompact one-handed while moving, often risking my life. Have you ever ridden a bicycle at over 50 km/h? Well, during the trip that was pretty much all we had to do. Stops weren't planned for this. True, this was compensated by the frequent application of zero speed to conquer mountains (aka hills) – namely, getting off the bike and stomping on foot. This is, of course, somewhat reprehensible from a sporting point of view, but very few people carrying luggage are capable of climbing steep ascents for 80 km a day for a week.

Terraced recreation area with a red-orange wall in the foreground, decorated with an information plaque and graffiti «BUKET OČEAN». Behind it, white walls with levels, picnic tables, and vases are visible, and the background is occupied by a dense forest with green trees and an ancient stone structure on the hillside. Another one, even with a rest area

As for the springs, we were too scared to fill our bottles from them. Probably a mistake, since bottled water is a known evil from the standpoint of ecology and common sense. By the way, I never managed to translate the inscription buket doğan. Literally – something like "a bouquet is born". I asked around here, let's see, maybe something will turn up.

A group of people with bicycles is moving along a winding rural road strewn with fine gravel, surrounded by olive groves. In the distance, buildings are visible on the hills under a clear blue sky. That's how we climbed up the mountain

An old blue motorcycle is parked in the shade of an olive tree on dry rocky soil. A large canvas bag is attached to the back of the motorcycle. In case anyone's too lazy to look closer – it says "Minsk" on the gas tank

Generally speaking, it must be said that in the provinces (and not only there), Turks happily ride around on all sorts of clunkers, including Soviet-made ones. We saw a Niva too, well, you'll see for yourself in a few posts.

A hillside covered with bright green grass with red poppies and yellow wildflowers, crowned with olive trees and bordered by a light road below.

These very flowers turned out to be a dime a dozen in Turkey. Actually, the national symbol of Turkey is the tulip. Whether it has any relation to these plants, I, being a complete ignoramus in biology, find it hard to say. I should probably try my luck on a resource like https://web.archive.org/web/20090627022009/https://explainthisimage.com/, although that specific one specializes in oddities.

A landscape of a hilly area covered with olive groves and trees, with a dirt road and a pole in the foreground. On the horizon, multi-story residential buildings, a minaret, and a distant hill under a blue sky are visible.

An elite residential complex, hehe

Here people ask a reasonable question: how's the weather over there in Turkey. The weather in Turkey is not bad. As I wrote before, it's much better to go in the spring than in the heat of summer. The only downside is that there's still a bit more rain, and it gets chilly in the evening. I was wearing my nano-jacket, and I definitely felt it. As for the temperature, my companions for some reason optimistically assumed it would be quite warm, around 18-20 degrees. I, on the other hand, checked online, and was aiming more for 15. Shchukin, however, doesn't trust statistics. How he manages to be a scientist himself with such a skeptical attitude towards scientific methods is a bit beyond me. Or maybe that's exactly the reason – he realized that in science everyone lies and hypocritizes just like everywhere else. In any case, it actually turned out to be somewhere in the middle – from 15 when it rained, up to 22 in Istanbul. Gismeteo and my favorite smhi.se promised clouds and rain in places, and wind too. This ruined our parade quite a bit – which you'll read about in the following parts.

A sunny landscape of an olive grove with dense trees and their silvery-green foliage. In the foreground on the left is a large mossy stone, and on the right a dirt path goes deeper into the grove.Just a decent rock

A brown dog stands on a paved area by a concrete pole, next to a pile of branches and two garbage cans. Behind them stretch greenery-covered hills and mountains under a bright sky.

A dog, one of the first we met. Here I must report some interesting facts. Firstly, the dogs in Turkey are all very similar – even though they are mutts, they are clearly of some shepherd breed, which is easy to see when you encounter flocks of sheep with a shepherd – a common sight. Secondly, the dogs are usually very phlegmatic, and they are afraid of bicycles. Even though they bark, they usually don't come close. I'm not really afraid of dogs, so it wasn't a problem for me, but they definitely stressed some people out.

Thirdly, alongside the road leading to the high-rises on the hill ran some pipes. This has nothing to do with dogs, but still. My companions decided it was the sewage system, but it could just as well have been the water supply. They can just dump it straight into the sea; Turks, while being the heirs of a great civilization, aren't exactly Europeans obsessed with ecology and order.

By the way, we eventually made it to the top of the hill. There was a nice little town there, of which we encountered quite a few on our way. This one, I think, is called Edincik (Edincik). 'C' in Turkish is usually pronounced like "j".

Facade of a two-story house with peeling yellowish plaster on the upper floor. Below are two doors: a simple wooden one on the left and a turquoise one with a decorative metal grate on the right, surrounded by many plants in various pots. In town

A white memorial plaque on a brick wall, surrounded by blooming lilacs and other trees, states that Süleyman Pasha tied his horse to a plane tree in 1357. Memorial plaque – in 1357, Süleyman Pasha tied his horse to this tree

I called Atatürk "pasha" as well, so here is your cultural program for today:

Pasha (Turk. paşa, Ott. پاشا — paşa) — a high rank in the political system of the Ottoman Empire. It is an abbreviated form of the title padishah, used by Ottoman sultans.

Pashas were typically governors or generals. As an honorary title, "pasha" is roughly equivalent to "Sir" or "Lord." Only the Ottoman sultan Turkey and (by delegation) the khedive of Egypt could bestow the title of pasha. Initially, the title was used exclusively for military commanders, but it was later devalued and could be applied to any high-ranking official or even to an outsider deemed worthy of such an honor. Above pashas were khedives and viziers, below were beys.

Bey, by the way, in modern Turkish is just a polite form of address, like "san" in Japanese. Used like this: "Ahmed-bey".

A narrow paved alley, lit by the sun, runs between old buildings with red tiled roofs. On the right is a wall of rough stone with grated windows, on the left is a light-colored house with a blue wrought-iron grate on the window; in the background, green hills under a blue sky. Narrow streets (as part of the program to ease the delivery of material using clichés)

A narrow city street between old dilapidated buildings, where two dogs are visible on a stone parapet: a fluffy white one and a spotted one lying down. In the lower left corner of the frame, the profile of a man is barely visible. A rare case of non-standard dogs

2009-05-01 10-07-56 - 0122 Right in the middle of town

A bottom-up view of a severely ruined facade of an old wooden building with dilapidated gray boards, broken windows, and a damaged roof through which the blue sky shines. Also in the middle

And who says there's ruin in Latvia but prosperity in Turkey? (This is a dig at my fellow bikers)

A street scene with a brown-and-black dog leaning over a wet sidewalk, and three cats in the background. On the right, stacks of wooden crates by a cracked wall are visible, and on the left — a white building with a red tiled roof. Near the fish shop – also a non-standard dog

A man in a sweater and vest stands in the blue doorframe of an old fish stall, looking at the camera. Inside, piles of fresh small fish in wooden crates are visible. Secretly snapped a pic of the fish seller, that's why the horizon is tilted

Here is some more cultural programming for you to finish off.

Mikhail Lermontov (1838?)

Farewell, unwashed Russia,
Land of slaves, land of lords,
And you, blue uniforms,
And you, the people devoted to them.
Perhaps, behind the wall of the Caucasus
I will hide from your pashas,
From their all-seeing eye,
From their all-hearing ears.

I just brought this up because the word "pasha" is in there. The further along in life I get, the less I like Russia – it's too wild and Asian a country. Fortunately, I stopped reading Apach and Goblin, but instead started reading Verbitsky, and he's always expressing himself in this spirit, only a hundred times harsher and angrier. A bad influence, though. What can you do – I'd rather watch Euronews about my beloved Europe, but damn livestation.com hasn't shown it in Russian for a long time now, and I don't have cable.

What does this have to do with Turkey? Well, if only that Turkey, which many paint as wild and scary, is far more civilized than Russia. But I still wouldn't let it into the European Union if it were up to me.

Ctrl + ←
Ctrl + →
To contents Ctrl + ↑