Soooo...

Since the last time that I've blogged, my time has been filled with sleeping in caves and treehouses, wandering around Star Wars movie sets, avoiding falling fairy chimnies, eating bad Turkish vegetarian food, and last but not least, sitting next to overly macho Turkish men who smell like cheap gas station cologne and drink too much beer. Oh, and I've managed to sit on one of the most serene and tranquil beaches I have ever seen in my lifetime.

Before I came to Turkey, I could remember people telling me that the buses can compete with Argentina, or even Chile, in terms of service and comfort. Unfortunately, nobody ever told me that they stop every two hours, they smell like smoke and--as previously mentioned--really bad and repugnant gas station cologne (think black panther from Anchorman). My bus ride from Denizli to Goreme in Cappadocia was no different. I got on, ready to sleep, and shortly thereafter this boisterous and rather large man got onto the bus and sat down in the seat across the aisle from me, then proceeded to move over to sit next to me. I couldn't understand what he said to the two young bus attendants, but I'm pretty sure he was stressing his discomfort. At that point, one of them decided that they'd try to get the foreigner to move, since no Turkish man or woman--in their right mind--would do so. That foreigner was me. He asked for my ticket for the third time and wrote down 18, and hinted strongly that I needed to move from my super sweet seat 32 to 18. I could pretty much tell what was going on, and said no, refusing to get up from my seat. At this point some Turkish women behind me started to laugh, which kind of eased the tension. The large gentleman was pretty upset he didn't get his way though, but hey, that's life, right? Well, apparently these two kids were working for him or something, as they proceeded to try to make my life hell throughout the bus ride (trying to spill things on me, tell me that my seat needed to be up, just ridiculous juvenile stuff). I rolled with it though, through the 12 hours, and arrived in Goreme a little later, after trying to save this German couple from getting lured off the bus by these nasty little travel agents (another story in itself). Finally, I got to my cave in Goreme--the heart of Cappadocia--and crashed amongst the musty silence of my settings.

Cappadocia is dry, dusty, and windy. Not for a second could you ever claim that it's barren. The entirety of the area of Central Anatolia is shaped and formed from centuries old volcanic tuff, and the waters and winds that subsequently molded the rock. It, in less than a few words, is otherworldly. I'll do my best to post some pictures, which make it that much easier to explain. You'll have to wait though, if you can.

After three days of hiking throughout the region, and some really sore legs and still recovering lungs, I hopped another bus to Olympos where I've resided on a beach for the last four days, licking my wounds (not really, I'm not flexible enough), and telling myself to relax before I head off to New Delhi--the capitol of India.

More pictures and words will come as soon as I get back to Istanbul...