Take a Balloon to Mars (Turkey)

The peaceful darkness of the cave hotel was broken by the harsh sounds of the alarm, beckoning me to rise from my deep slumber. My eyes opened but were unable to see anything until I stumbled to the lights in the bathroom. At 5:00am, I waited in the coolness of the early morning when the first call to prayer began at a nearby mosque. The echoed tune had an eerie tone as it bounced off the rock faces around me. I arrived at the lift off area and noticed the blackness towards the east starting to transform into pinks and purples. Multicolored balloons quickly followed the path from infancy to full-blown adulthood as their bellies filled with hot air. Our balloon floated just above our heads, yet lacked the strength to lift all 14 passengers. The pilot unleashed six-foot flames from the nozzles in the center of the balloon in order to heat the air and yet the sphere seemed determined to stay earthbound. Finally, the balloon relented and we traveled mere inches above the dewed-covered soil. Inches turned into feet and feet turned into yards and yards compounded so much so that the cars below turned into the Hot Wheels of my childhood.

We were airborne over 2,000 feet above the Martian landscape of Cappadocia, Turkey. Below I could see the Fairy Houses with their teepees casting strange shadows in the early morning light. Our pilot descended deep into a canyon and we passed numerous Pigeon houses that had been hollowed out long ago to facilitate the collection of
“natural fertilizer.” Thousands of years ago, a huge volcanic explosion endowed the area of Cappadocia with the necessary volcanic ash required to form the most unique rock formations I have ever witnessed. The shapes seemed to have been a gift from God, immune from the forces of nature. How could erosion create such masterpieces?

After an hour and a half of exploring the bizarre Turkish landscape, our pilot initiated the balloon landing procedure, which simply consisted of gliding along in the wind until a suitable flat area was found. Unfortunately, the wind did not want to cooperate and our gliding turned to crawling. Now that it was airborne, the balloon no longer wanted to return to Earth. Finally, we found a suitable spot in a farmer’s field just outside of Göreme. The pilot dropped a line and several workers from the tour company dragged us to an open area. We slowly descended, yards turning into feet and feet turning into inches. I was selected to join the crew and help tame the balloon. We lifted it unto a trailer and joined the passengers in the basket as they tried to force one particularly stubborn corner into place. With the basket secured, our next step was to pull down the proud balloon. We grabbed a rope that connected to the top of the balloon and pulled. The balloon fought back but without the continued supply of hot air that formed its lifeblood, the sphere could only postpone the inevitable. With all passengers on firm ground, we toasted our flight over the Martian land with glasses of champagne.

Joel Montgomery

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Cons & Cars Part II (Turkey)

As I pass through the automatic toll on my way to work, a loud buzzer warns me that my transmitter didn’t register. I must have been driving a little too fast through the toll. I continue my commute through Asia and thank God that I am not five feet to my left on the other side of the barrier where thousands of people are sitting, waiting to cross the bridge onto the European side of Istanbul. As the collection of European cars and an occasional Ford travel North with me, we engage in a dance of which I have become all too familiar. A speedy Mercedes quickly makes up the distance between my rear and his front bumper. He signals his desire to continue forward at a faster pace than I am going and I oblige by quickly moving into the middle lane. A few minutes later it is my turn to flick my lights as a red Renault creeps up a hill. This dance continues at all hours of the day on Turkish motorways.

After passing the Renault, I arrive at the second toll of my journey and am surprised when the angry buzzer yells at me for a second time. Now, this is not normal. My fingers make their way behind the rearview mirror but are saddened when they are unable to find the goal of their pursuit. My transmitter has suddenly disappeared. Has Houdini come back from the dead to posses my innocent black Opel? Soon, my thoughts turn to the seedy parking lot attendants that I have grown to loathe. It has to be them. I continue on my journey trying to give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe, the transmitter has fallen down somewhere in the car. As I pull into work, I quickly do a search in the car, trying to find this little white box that I have taken for granted all summer. As I peer under the seat of the car, I do not find the transmitter but another clue in the mystery that envelops my morning. I find a sack full of food wrappers, including two discarded Ayran containers. Aha!!! Further evidence supporting my theory that someone has indeed entered the car and stolen my transmitter. I share the news with my boss and we return to the dilemma that has plagued us since the first incident with these crooks… there is no other parking lot near where I live. The only other option is to try and park on the street, which is even more of a crapshoot. Begrudgingly, we arise at the conclusion that we must continue to deal with these dishonest folk for another 15 days when my contract expires.

The next morning as I walk towards the parking lot, I get a sense that Houdini has moved on and decided to let me be. As I expected, the transmitter magically reappeared overnight. I call my boss and he responds with a traditional Turkish saying. “God makes you lose and find your donkey.” Certainly, you value even the most invaluable items once you have rescued them from being lost.

Joel Montgomery

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Cons & Cars (Turkey)

Con artists live among us, no matter in which country we live. Throughout my travels, I have received my fair share of con attempts and my time in Turkey has been no different. The simplest cons have been a gift from some of those road warriors in yellow, the taksi drivers. Although the majority of my travels in taxis have been “con free,” there are those drivers that can’t help themselves when they see a foreigner. The first trick occurs when a driver will decide that a passenger is not savvy enough to notice that he has not started the taximeter over from the last fare. Currently, taxis cost 1.73 YTL during the day (6:00am – 12:00am) and 2.46 YTL during the night (12:00am – 6:00am). If the taximeter does not display the proper starting rate, then the driver is probably trying this simple con. The second trick occurs when a taxi driver charges unsuspecting passengers the night rate instead of the day rate. In Turkish, day is Gündüz and night is Gece. The taximeter will blink between the current fare and either Gündüz or Gece, depending upon the time of day. This has been attempted on me several times, but by simply pointing to the taximeter and saying "Gündüz" (Gewn-Dewz), the drivers have stopped the car and reset the fare. A third taxi trick occurs when the driver refuses to turn on the taximeter and desires instead to haggle over the price before or after the trip. Although this has never happened to me in Turkey, Tom Brosnahan at turkeytravelplanner.com suggests that you point at the taximeter and firmly say Taksimetre (TAHK-see-MEHT-treh). If all else fails, choose another taxi. Taxi drivers are required by law to use the taximeter.

While these taxi cons may result in a 5 or 10 dollar loss, this next con that occurred to me was subtler and cost me a lot more money. Parking on the street is a nightmare here in Istanbul. Thankfully, my employer has been gracious enough to pay for a monthly parking lot. The cost is 200 YTL/month in the neighborhood of Beşiktaş (I live one block away from the Çirağan Palace). Recently, I returned to the US for my sister’s wedding, but before I left, I filled my tank full of gasoline. Upon my return, one week later, I noticed that as soon as I was pulling out of the parking lot that my empty light came on. The strange thing was that my odometer read only 81km, when I can usually get at least 400km per full tank. Anytime I purchase gasoline, I always restart the odometer to count how many miles (or kilometers) I have traveled. I thought I had filled the tank before I had left on vacation, but who can remember 9 days later? Luckily, I found the receipt that confirmed my suspicions. I had indeed filled the tank the day before my departure. Although I could do nothing to the attendants, I did have my boss call them to let them know that WE KNEW what they had done. Hopefully, that fact will keep them from doing it again. Looking back on it, the only way that they would have been able to use so much gasoline without changing the odometer is to have siphoned it out of the gas tank. Here in Turkey, gasoline is extremely expensive. The minimum octane available is 95 and the current price is 2.96 YTL/liter.

A few weeks prior to the previous incident, I went to pickup my car and it was not there. These same parking attendants were supposedly fixing one of my tires that had gone flat. That assured me that the car would return any moment from the tire repair shop. About half an hour later, the car arrived and they charged me 20 YTL. I still do not know if the fix was legit or not.

Joel Montgomery

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Bearing North to the Black Sea (Turkey)

On a particularly steamy Sunday afternoon, my friend and I decided to take refuge in my air-conditioned Opel and do some modern-day exploration. As we made our heading northward along the shoreline, we noticed lots of men swimming in the waters to our East. A few women dotted the crowds of men but not many. It was interesting to see people lying on the cement as if the sand within had not been previously hardened by lime and water.
As we left the congestion of Istanbul behind, the scene transformed into a small beach village. Thick trees lined the streets, holding hands to form a tunnel of green. Heads popped out of the open windows of old wooden houses that had seen better days. Our progress up the coast was swift until we hit the junction of three streets. Chaos ensued. A bus full of passengers barely missed hitting me by mere centimeters. Pedestrians casually weaved their way through the mess, as us less fortunate souls in modern vehicles watched longingly. The bottleneck was largely a gift from some selfish driver, whose parked car had reduced this small two-lane road by half. After passing this second major obstacle in our route, my friend and I were met by an additional impediment to our journey: the reverse tails lights of ten cars moving in our direction. We decided that this was not the ideal path for us to follow and so we turned around to find another way up the coast.

In a country with very few street signs, we felt lucky to have actually found one that pointed toward our destination. Now whether or not its sister signs were in place was a different tale, but at least we had our first bearing. I gladly made my way up the mountain, away from the chaos at the water’s edge. To our good fortune, we found a newly paved road with another sign marking the continuation of our journey.

Passage along the ridgeline was much more pleasant. As we closed in on the Black Sea, we noticed that for some strange reason, cars were suddenly pulling off the main highway into wooded alcoves. Some cars even seemed to be stuck in the rolling hills just off the highway. What would tempt these drivers to leave the newly laid pavement to brave the vegetation beyond? It took me a while to realize the goal they sought… a picnic. Now that I think about it, I have passed many a happy Turkish family picnicking in all sorts of places: in city parks, on the grassy shoulders of busy roads, at the beach, on the cement walkway next to the Bosphorus. As an American, I must admit that we Americans are truly picnic snobs. We rarely picnic anywhere that is not designated an official picnic area with proper picnic benches. The Turks on the other hand are much more creative, for them, the possibilities are endless. They don’t need a sign to tell them that they are in a designated picnic area; they picnic when and where they want.

Back to our adventure… Far off in the distance, the Black Sea highlighted the horizon in a deep shade of blue. It began as just a sliver and quickly grew thicker and thicker as the land retreated below the circling tires of our car. My friend and I had finally reached our objective and to our delight, an old fortress stood on the shoreline, waiting patiently for a pair of explorers. We headed straight for the stone tower to peer down on this newly found land. We lowered our heads and traveled up the stairs that countless soldiers had climbed centuries before. From the lookout we spotted beachcombers in every direction. At the water’s edge, swimmers danced in the white frothy waves. Hiding in the shade of Roman arches were several Turkish women in full-length burkas. Off in the distance, ships seemed to follow one another towards the only exit for hundreds of miles, that same exit that hundreds of years before this very fort had been built to protect. The Bosphorus Strait.

Joel Montgomery

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Cultural Highlights (Turkey)

Each day is full of new cultural adventures. Here are some highlights:

Haircut – What a seemingly simple task to get a haircut. You arrive, sit for a few minutes, chat a bit about current events, and leave a little lighter. Imagine that you have to go to a new barber and all you can say is, “Hello,” “Thank you,” “I don’t understand,” and “I am American.” I entered the Turkish barbershop as I always do, with my hair a little too long and the usual air of patience. I don’t know what it is about the barbershop, but unlike so many other aspects of my life, patience pervades the experience. Anyway, back to the story, my barber and I spent the first few minutes trying to agree on what I actually needed. I pointed at the sides and top of my hair showing different lengths with my tweezer fingers. I thought we were in agreement until huge chunks of hair started to fall in my lap. I must not have been clear. I stopped the Turkish barber and showed him once again the length of hair to cut off, but this time using my newly cut locks as a reference. After the cut, he washed my hair twice and then dried it. Now I must admit that I am not used to other people washing my hair, but I decided that the old “When in Rome” adage might be a good rule to follow. I have to say that in spite of the language barrier, my Turkish barber cut my hair better than many of the barbers that have scissored me in the States. The experience was well worth 15 Lira.

Traffic –A few days ago, I was in a bus that was driving down the main road that runs parallel to the Bosporus and we suddenly came to a standstill. Now traffic in Istanbul is not an unusual occurrence, but this time, there seemed to be no way to pass. A bus with its blinking hazard light sat diagonally, blocking the outgoing lane, while a smaller truck was blocking the incoming lane. Obviously, the bus had been involved in some kind of accident. Just when I began to embrace the fact that we were going to be sitting for a long while, a policeman arrived on the scene and motioned for the truck to back up and make room for the incoming traffic. The truck driver slowly navigated the small spaces around him, following the police officer’s every order. Just enough space had been cleared for a police bus to pass. The officer returned to his comrades and the vehicle sped on by, leaving the scene in chaos. By some miracle, we were able to pass the wreck.

Driving – Driving etiquette in emerging markets is slightly different than in much of the developed world. Now New York City has its quirks, but Istanbul has been a whole new experience. Firstly, there are no exit numbers or road markers at all. Now that doesn’t really matter when you are driving in your hometown, but for people not accustomed to the city, it’s extremely helpful. Directions here are similar to much of Latin America, where landmarks are the key. In Costa Rica, we always joked that directions in the countryside went like this: “Go 400m and take a right at the lemon tree. Continue on the dirt road until you see a herd of cattle. Take a left, drive 200m east past the church…” Anyway, back to Turkey, the second quirk about driving is the invisibility of lanes. Unlike the West, staying in lanes is optional, especially in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Every evening I spend at least 30 minutes maneuvering through the traffic towards the bridge that crosses the Bosphorus back into Europe. Even though there are only three official lanes, Turkish drivers take advantage of every possible inch of asphalt. I guess the logic is why stay in three lanes when there is room for five.

Food – Plain yogurt is a staple of meals here in Turkey. They even have a homemade drinkable yogurt that is essentially regular yogurt mixed with water. Pistachios are the nut of choice. They are everywhere, in the ice cream, on the ice cream cones, in the desserts, in salads, etc. Fruit and vegetables are incredibly fresh here in Istanbul. Cherries, apricots, green plumbs, watermelon. Often a plate of fruit is served after meals in Turkish restaurants. The lamb here is incredible! In fact, most meat is very tastefully prepared.

Pictures: http://www.theblackstripe.com/public.php?u=&album=1185

Joel Montgomery

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