Day 92 - Sunday 2nd July - Istanbul

It was a slow start to the morning for us, after the previous night’s events. It was no better for Ali and Marcelo.

We headed off to climb the Galeta Tower on our way to get a ferry over to Kadakoy on the Asian side of the city, for lunch. When you get married in Istanbul, it must be the tradition to have your photo taken in front of the tower. There were a steady stream of brides rolling up to be shot.

Graffeti abounds

While the temperature was climbing rapidly again, the sea breeze across the bay kept things a bit measured. Dolphins jumped next to our ferry and gulls swarmed chasing schools of pilchards.

We weren’t the only ones who had decided to cross the bay for lunch. It seemed that most of Istanbul was on the hunt for a restaurant seat. Luckily there, there seemed to be more seats than there are inhabitants.

Not only was the start to the day slow, but the whole day seemed to be unfolding at a similar pace. WE wandered around the back streets and explored a few shops, before the ferry home and the walk back up the hill to our hotel.

Away from the water and its accompanying sea breeze, things were hot. We were a lather of sweat by the time we were half way back to our hotel and ducked into Ali’s favourite book shop where we found a book of walking tours of Istanbul.

After a swim and a cool down we headed off to the Pera Palace Hotel. It was next door. Out of the 1800’s it was the place that Agatha Christie stayed at and most of the notables. It was a palace of political intrigue as, at that time most countries with diplomatic relations with Turkey were located near by and came her for a drink and dinner. Today it still smells of the era, the lounges antique and unfortunately empty.

Day 91 - Saturday 1st July - Istanbul

Western Turkey was experiencing a heatwave and Istanbul was not exempt, despite all the water. We moved slowly as a consequence.

First stop was the Museum of Modern Art on the waterfront in Karakoy, just down the hill from Ali’s apartment. A beautify setting and a great representation of local artists, photographers and installation art. Education seemed to be very high on their CV’s with all studding at one of the local university fine art schools and also overseas. I had never heard of any of them, but from the quality of the work, probably should have.

Loris and Ali went to the hamam attached to the 16th century Kilic Ali Pasa mosque for a scrub down while Marcelo and I wandered around the waterfront and across Galata Bridge to see if the fishermen were catching anything. On the way got stung by a local shoe shiner. He dropped his brush in front of me, I picked it up and in thanks he offered to clean my very scruffy shoes which I had now been wearing through mud and dust for the past 90 days. I offered to pay something, he wanted double, some Turkish negotiation followed.

After lunch at one of the Karakoy cafes set under grape vine covered lanes we hoped on the tram and off to the Grand Bazaar. Ali wanted some cushion covers and to look at a rug. I love this bazaar, it is the biggest and most varied and a fitting destination for our Silk Road journey. The goods sold here still travel the same routes across Asia that they have for centuries. Silk from China and Uzbekistan, jewellery and carpets from Afghanistan and Turkmenistan, paintings and inlaid picture frames and boxes from Iran. Plus a lot of locally produced silver, gold, copper and carpets. It was despite the down turn in Turkish tourism, thriving.

There is some interesting stuff in the Bazaar

Message: Don't mess with the Traffic Police or your car will be lifted.

Ali had organised dinner in the only Michelin stared restaurant in Istanbul. A six course degustation meal with accompanying Turkish wines. The restaurant was conveniently located on the roof of our hotel, which is one of the tallest buildings in Pera, just up the hill from the Galeta Tower. The views were expansive during the day, and spectacular in the evenings. The city is a blaze of light and colour and maybe it was the wine, but the sight is quite unique: two continents and a history of the world before you. From Justinian’s Haiga Sophia built in the 6th century Bizantine Roman era, to the Suleyman Mosque built to celebrate the life of the Ottoman conqueror, to the traffic of the modern bustling city.

The food was as you would expect of a restaurant of this repute and the wine, well let’s just say that things got a bit out of control. Our waiter and Marcelo spent a considerable part of the evening taking soccer. Each time he came over to discuss another player, team or world cup event, another bottle would appear, and there were lots of things he wanted to discuss. Let me just conclude by saying that Turkey is making some fine wines from both mainstream and local and unpronounceable grapes.

Day 90 - Friday 30th June - Pamukkale to Istanbul

The group was heading further west to Ephesus and then on to Canakkale to visit Gallipoli. We decided to head north to Istanbul to visit Ali who has moved there as a new base for her ongoing Iraq and new Turkish training programs.

There were a couple of nagging concerns about travelling on our own for the first time. Firstly the navigation. Garmin was showing the route to Istanbul as 660k, while Google Maps had it down as 560k. I had not had time to reconcile the differences by the time we left. Secondly we were totally unsupported if anything went wrong with the car and with the failing gearbox, leaking head gasket and weeping front shock absorber, not to mention the vagaries of the fuel pump, the car was not without some concerns. And finally there was the issue of Istanbul traffic.

As we headed off at 0745, the temperature was already climbing into the mid thirties. We were headed in an arc north west up towards the Sea of Marmara. After an hour we started to descend to nearly sea level. Other than around the Caspian Sea, this was the first time we had been below an altitude of around 1000m since we entered Iran. The sky was now coloured with heat haze and pollution and out in the paddocks it was an endless sea of grape vines.

After morning tea I handed the controls over to Loris as we were on a freeway and there was not a lot of traffic. I set about resolving the 100 kilometer difference between the Garmin and Google routes. In the end it was simple. One was taking us around the Sea of Marmara and the other across it, and there was no mention of a ferry. So we followed the signs to Istanbul and Google and watched as the Garmin had us in unchartered territory. Its disappointing that I had just purchased the Garmin maps to find that the latest roads are not recorded. You would have thought that they may have had some notice that a new tollway and bridge across the Sea of Marmara was imminent, or even under construction.

Once across to the northern side we were on a crowded freeway into Istanbul. The Turkish drivers are amongst the best we have had to contend with, a vast difference to the Iranian. But in most cases as we headed west, we had been driving in light traffic conditions. The only issue we had was that they all drove fast and ignored the speed signs. On the freeway into Istanbul, the speed limit was 90. The trucks were doing 100 and the cars much more. And it was crowded. We were sharing the road uncomfortably with the trucks. As we turned onto the O-1 to take us across the Bosphorus and the Bogazici Bridge linking Asia and Europe the traffic lightened remarkably and unexpectedly, until we came overa rise, could see Europe for the first time and the traffic at an absolute stand still.

The MG does a lot of things well, but idling in stop – start, bumper to bumper traffic when the temperature is above 40c is not one of them. It only took a few minutes of this and the engine started to misfire and generally choke. There was no emergency lane, but luckily the road was slightly down hill. So we would crawl for a few car lengths, turn the motor off and wait for the traffic to move again. We did this for 6 kilometers. Luckily the engine temperature behaved and the starter and battery held out.

It was an amazing feeling to cross the Bosphorus and realize that we were now entering a new Continent. Once across and off the freeway, what seemed as an easy route to our hotel was made more complicated by Garmin sending us on a couple of unnecessary loops and detours. Eventually with a bit of luck and random navigational decisions we made it to the Mamara Pera Hotel overlooking the Bosphorus, the Golden Horn and the Sea of Marmara.

Time to relax for a few days and catch up with Ali.

Day 89 - Thursday 29th June - Beysehir to Pamukkale

Today we are stopping off at a couple of Greek and Roman ruins. But as we start the day its already starting to get hot.

The first stop is a place called Sagalassos. Its marked on the map as being in the middle of the mountains with no road to it. Tony assures us that there is and has organised for some associates to meet up with us and show us around.

While Sagalassos is due west of Beysehir, we have to go north west first then south west to get there around mountains and lakes. Firstly Beysehir and then Lake Egirdir, climbing and dipping through mountain roads. It cools as we gain altitude and the driving is mostly on deserted roads.

We were met on site by Peter, a lecturer from the Belgian University that is doing much of the archaeological work on site in conjunction with the Turkish government. It is recorded that the site was occupied as early as the 14th century BC. It was occupied by Alexander in the 3rd century BC and much of the architecture of that period is of a Greek style. Later on it came under the control of the Romans and became a major town in the region with around 3000 inhabitants. Its hard to imagine how it gained its wealth as its perched high up in the barren, craggy mountains. But it was on a major southern trade route and an administrative centre.

Peter was trying to cram a 4 hour tour into 2 hours and spoke non stop. The ruins have mostly been left in place. A few have been restored. Apparently the rule is that something does not get restored until you have 85% original parts. It’s clear from our travels that this rule is not universally applied. The city suffered major earthquakes in the 3rd and 6th centuries which eventually lead to its demise as the water from mountain springs ceased or significantly deteriorated. From there the inhabitants moved down the hill onto what I would have considered more hospitable land.

The route from Sagalassos to Pamukkale was not direct. There were three routes. Two around Lake Burbur, and a third direct route marked on the map, across the top of the mountains. We took the indirect, but slightly shorter route around the mountains.

Last time we visited Turkey Loris had no interest in revisiting Pamukkale. Her view was that the white travertine pools and cliffs were too touristy and the Greco- Roman ruins of Heirapolis were less than inspiring. As the temperature at 42c was very authentic, our tour was put off until 5.30 until it was supposedly cooling down. But it was slow to do this.

I thought that Loris had been a bit harsh on the ruins, but not our guide for the afternoon. Unfortunately he was a bookend to Sagalassos Peter. One enthusiastic and knowledgeable, the other – well he may have known something, but he failed to impart it and it was late and hot so his desire to park us at the travertine pools with the other tourists, may just have been misguided.   

Day 88 - Wednesday 28th June - Urgup to Beysehir

We had about 350 kilometers to travel and a couple of things I was keen to see on the way. Luckily they were well spaced so that we could combine morning tea and lunch breaks.

The countryside was wheat, sugar beat and distant mountains as we drove towards Sultanhami for morning tea. It was not actually the town we wanted to see, but their old caravanseri, regarded as one of the largest and best preserved in Turkey.

A caravanseri was like a motel for camel trains. They were evenly spaced across the countryside providing accommodation and food for the camel trains and were also market places where goods were bought and sold. In the ‘Stans and Iran we had not seen any. I think most of them had been either demolished by Ghengis Khan, Tamerlain or as many seemed to have been built of mud brick, they fell down in earthquakes and succumbed to the ravages of time. The Turkish ones on the other hand seemed to have been built of stone, and usually just had one open market place surrounded with rooms for accommodation. The Sultanhami caravanseri was also a bit unusual as it had both covered and uncovered market places so that trade could continue in both summer and winter.

We had no longer arrived when were met by the mayor of the town who invited us back to his council chambers for tea. A garrulous character who had run a carpet repair business prior to entering politics. He had left school at 14 to learn the trade. He informed us that Sultanhami is the rug repair capital of Turkey and that Prince Charles sends his carpets there when they need mending.

Our plans of a running a tight schedule for the day were dashed as he related to us his life story, small town politics and the economy of countryside Turkey.

Photos for the mayor’s Facebook page and we were off to Konya, and the 13th century Mausoleum of Rumi, the third of the five great Persian poet philosophers we had come across on our travels. Konya is a city of 1.5 million people and the Mausoleum is in the centre of the old town. I was dreading that we would get bogged down in blind alleyways and one way streets with no parking when we got there. We were surprised.

Wide tree lined boulevards reminiscent of Europe paved our way to a large car park a short walk from our destination. The Mausoleum of Mevlana, as Rumi is also known, is one of the most holly sites in Turkey attracting millions of pilgrims each year. The guide books said it was conservative and to dress accordingly – read: no shorts and covered heads for the women. The site was also a big part of the local economy. In addition to making some significant additions to Persian literature and poetry, Mevlana also started the Whirling Dervish faction of the Moslem faith.

From here it was a 100k to our destination for the evening, Beysehir on the shores of a large lake by the same name and part of what is considered as the lakes district of Turkey.    

Day 87 - Tuesday 27th June - Urgup

I am an early riser. But usually as the sun starts push back the darkness and add some colour to the sky, so getting up at 3.45am is generally not my preference. However, for some reason when you go riding a balloon, they make you do this.

When we were in Cappadocia 12 years ago, there were 2 balloon companies and 4 balloons. When we arrived at the take off point, there were acres of the things in states of half inflation and the bus driver had to find which were ours. I tried to explore the issue of whether there was any order or scheme to the array, or it was just a matter of when the balloon was inflated and the passengers ready, they took off, but the language skills were lacking.

The morning was clear and a very gentle breeze was blowing as we ascended with 120 other balloons each carrying between 8 and 28 passengers. We had two 8 man balloons. As we ascended we started to blow in one direction, but as we got higher, the wind had changed and we blew back to where we started. After getting to nearly 1000m and expansive views of the landscape and looking down on everyone else, we descended and rode up a valley below the cliff line.

On the ground recovery vehicles were scurrying in every direction following their responsibilities so that they were on site before the balloon touched down. Ours landed pin point on its trailer. The team scurried about, picked some wild flowers, adorned the balloon basket, set up a table with tip box containing a lazy 50 Turkish Lire and opened a bottle of local, non alcoholic sparkling wine, as is the tradition when one goes ballooning.

We were back at the hotel by 0800 for a leisurely breakfast. The others were off on a bus for a guided tour of the cave houses, the underground city, pottery workshops and a bunch of other stuff which we had seen on our previous visit. As I had conference calls back to Australia with lawyers, we gave the tour a miss and decided to drive to Avenos after the calls had finished.

Our recollection was that Avenos was a small town at the centre of the Turkish ceramics industry. We had bought some beautify pieces there previously, cheaply from the studios. We watched old men play cards and drafts under the spreading shade next to the river.  

Like the number of balloons, things have changed in Avenos. Bus tours all visit the studios, the deserted streets are now crowded. The old men must have all died off or something as the river banks were crowded with young families enjoying their last day of the Eid holiday break following Ramadan. Venician gondolas ferry families along quieter spots on the river, while a jet speed boat roars up and down with thrill seekers in brightly coloured life vests. The relaxed pace was difficult to find, especially in the ceramic studios.

We ended up in a carpet shop. Loris was looking for a kilim. They were traditionally woven by girls as part of their bride package, a sort of dowry that they kept to warm their new home and husband when they married. They were traditional in the Anatolian region. Many of the pieces are now 50 to 100 years old.

Ali was a rug wholesaler. He travelled eastern Turkey, Iran, Afghanistan and up to the Kazakhstan in search of rugs. He had a wealth of stories and lots of rugs to share. We spent most of the afternoon with him and eventually bought a couple of older rugs to be shipped home by FEDEX.

The next day we were leading the team to Beysehir, so headed back to Urgup to work out the itinerary for the day. On the way we stopped for a photo and I picked up a new navigator.

After dinner in town, we set off to see if we could find an antique jewellery shop that we had visited on our previous trip. On that occasion we had spent some hours with the owner chatting about sources of his wares, his travels and his family. There was not much else happening in town back then. And today, not much had changed. The shop was still piled with antique silver jewellery, head pieces for brides, arm bands and even stuff for camels. While the restaurants and bars were crowded, his shop was quiet, so while we passed another hour or so catching up on the last decade, the jewellery was unchanged.        

Day 86 - Monday 26th June - Sivas to Urgup

Again we had a delayed start so that the team could see the sights with guide Tony. I took the tme to catch up o stuff and repack the car as we had bought stuff and it was not easily accommodated. We needed to jettison things that were not being used (like 4 rolls of toilet paper) to make room.

When we eventually left at 1030, the city was still like a morgue. The busy street where we had parked the cars the night before was empty, as was the way out of town.

The leader for the day had decided to take us on a scenic detour, rather than follow the highway. The first problem was a non existent bridge over the river. The next was the dirt roads and pot holes that we had all secretly parked in Turkmenistan. However, it was pleasant to meander along the wild flower strewn roads, watch the cows and sheep graze, try to work out what all the scare crows were protecting in the small green paddocks and marvel at the number of bee hives that can be stacked together.

Photo of cow herder taking photo of the navigators taking photos of his cows, while the drivers navigate through the herd

Towards Kayseri a large snow capped mountain appeared in our view. At a bit over 4000m, Erciyes Dagi is the second highest mountain in Turkey, another volcanic peak and home to the local ski resorts.

We arrived at our destination around 1600. Urgup was crowded with tourists. Garmin took us the back route to our hotel up some very narrow and steep cobble stone lanes, winding its way through the stone and dug out houses. The area is known for its cave houses and underground houses.

Cappadocia has been settled for thousands of years. Its searingly hot (40c +) in summer and bitterly cold in winter (-20c). The locals decided to make their houses underground, or in caves in the local tuft pinnacles which give the landscape its distinctive character and attractions for tourists.

Its dry, but there is enough water diverted from the rivers that run off the mountains to cultivate the soil. Grapes are grown as small bushes, not on conventional terraces, and the usual range of fruit (apricot, peaches, cherries) and nut trees (almonds) dot the landscape. It was an early Christian settlement, visited by St Paul, but constantly attacked by the Hittites. The underground houses provided protection from the marauders.

We stayed in Urgup 12 years ago when we visited Cappadocia. Then, it seemed quiet and relaxed, a bit off the beaten track. The centre of action being in Goreme. Being away from all the tourists and sharing a bit more local flavour suited us. In the space since our last visit, development has been frenetic. The town has grown to a resident population of over 20,000 and the main dormitory for tourists. Goreme does not seem to have changed much.

The temperature was climbing into the 30s by the time we arrived at our hotel. So we took advantage of the bar set in the shady garden. It was the first time we had been able to have a beer in a relaxing environment since entering Iran a couple of weeks before. The EFFYS Pilsner is not a bad drop, but at 5.0% alcohol stronger than we had been drinking in the past 86 days.

Unusually, we ate at the hotel as well, rather than wander down into town. I am sure that it was the offer of the garden dining that attracted us, rather than the local red wine, made from a number of unpronounceable grape varieties. It was quite good, but like all alcohol in Turkey, on the expensive side.

The group was starting to relax again. I don’t think that it was an issue us needing cold beer to function normally, although it did help, but rather the tension of Iran combined with Ramadan, the constant difficulty of finding somewhere to eat, and the lack of variety in the menu had put on more pressure than we realised. I had expected a vibrant food scene in Iran, man be something out of an Otolengi cook book, but that was not the case. It was pretty much kebabs each night. And had also expected that something to drink may have been varied, such as hot and cold teas and juices, rather than a dozen varieties of sugar and fruit infused zero alcohol, fake beer.     

Day 85 - Sunday 25th June - Erzurum to Sivas

It should have been a fairly quick and straight forward day, getting into Sivas early. However, we left late so that the others, who had not wandered the town the night before could do some exploring, lead by Tony. It also gave those who chose not to tour some time to catch up on things, or sleep in.

Like the other parts of Turkey we had travelled through, the valley floors were all cultivated with a wide variety of crops. Prolific wild flowers bordered the roadside and the mountains were sparse.

I was curious why we had not seen cows and sheep grazing on them and came to the conclusion that it was because of the altitude. We were constantly climbing over 2000m on the passes we crossed and dropping back to around 1500m. In winter this would have been too cold for the animals. Today the mountains were still stained with patches of snow. And clearly they do not have the summer migration to the higher pastures.

After lunch we started to come across a heightened military presence. But what was curious was that the soldiers were wearing light blue berets, like UN peace keepers. However the armoured personnel carriers parked nearby were completely unmarked. No Turkish or UN markings. Tony suggested someone stop and ask who they were and what they were doing. As we were 350k from the Syrian bordered, we concluded that as we were very close to the Kurdish areas of Turkey the presence was for the PKK.

On the outskirts of Sivas we were stopped at a police check point. It had a combined military presence. A parked APC sat idling. Soldiers patrolled with heavy duty rifles in hand, not casually slung across their backs. It was Passport first and stay in your cars. They then ordered Mike, who was the leader for the day out of his car and started patting him down from head to foot, followed by an instruction to empty the car for inspection. It was not cursory, they were going through everything. By this stage the rest of us were out of our cars and the Chinese TV crew were out with cameras filming the episode. Other police started to inspect the other vehicles, thoroughly. A few of the team were getting stressed at what was happening, They asked questions to which they got no response, other than a signal to open the boot. Suddenly the Passports were returned from the office and the search was called off.

It was stressful for some as this was the first time we had been searched thoroughly, even compared to border crossings. I guess we were a bunch of foreign registered cars in a fairly sensitive area. The irony was that the TV crew were allowed to continue filming. Generally we are not allowed to take photos of any police or military installation, or at any border crossing.

We arrived into Sivas to find that our secure parking was on the street in front of the hotel. It was the first of a three day holiday to mark the end of Ramadan and the old city was packed, so the cars in the street attract a lot of attention. Its probably unlikely that someone would do something malicious, or for that matter break into the cars. The highest risk is really just someone sitting on a part that is not made for it, such as the bonnet. Peter, our Turkey leader, was stressed firstly from the police search and then this.

The hotel was only a block from the old city square with its 12th century madrassas and mosque. We wandered around. The buildings have been converted into tea houses now and they were packed with locals lounging in discussion of the topics of the day. They were still there after our hotel dinner.

Day 84 - Saturday 24th June 2017 - Maku to Erzurum (Turkey)

The border crossing sits in the shadow of Mt Arrarat, which at 5100m is the highest mountain in Turkey. All I can say is that it must have been one hell of a flood for Noah to park his Ark on top of it.

Before moving to the border gate, we filled up for petrol. It was 40 cents a litre in Iran and just under AU$2.00 a litre in Turkey. But even though Iran has plenty of it, no 95 octane was available, only Standard, whatever that was.

There were trucks queued back for kilometres waiting for their turn to cross. We drove to the head of the line. Said our good-byes to David and Pat who were headed back to Tehran to sort the export of the wrecked Ginger, Hesan our guide and to the MG Service crew.

Getting through Immigration in these border crossings is generally straight forward, especially on the outgoing leg. Customs can be more tedious. Coming into Iran they just wanted to stamp our Carnet for the cars, outgoing was somewhat more complex. We wandered back and forwards to get a number of stamps and signatures, for purposes unknown. In the Customs Hall the guards were getting stuck into a number of people with rubber batons. As you can imagine they were not taking kindly to being beaten an having their luggage tossed on the floor. We did not know whether this was part of the usual exit process and we were next, so tried to stand unobtrusively in the corner while the fracas calmed down. At the Tax window, we stood calmly in line, while everyone else walked around us and pushed their papers under the nose of the Assessor. Call us slow, but it took a few minutes for us to realise we were just being by passed, so we then stood across the counter and blocked off the 3 windows, while I fed each of the Carenets through to the Assessor. The locals were not happy and tried to climb over us, and just shove their papers through the window. We told them all in our most polite English (so as not to cause another baton beating episode) to bugger off and wait their turn. It took a while for them to realise that we were serious. It took us an hour to get in to Iran and an hour and a half to get out.

As we entered the Turkish side the young guards wandered over, phones drawn for photos of the cars and “Welcome to Turkey, and ladies you may now take off your scarves, it’s a free country”. Processing was straight forward from there as everyone spoke English. We were ushered to the head of the Immigration queue and off to only one Customs official, with Passports, Carnets and Insurance documents to get the cars processed.

The girls in particular were pleased to leave Iran. Many had been looking forward to the country, but found it a particularly tough place for travellers. The scarves were hot and difficult to manage. Ramadan added another significant layer of complexity. On the whole, the people were extremely welcoming and friendly towards Australians, but I am not sure how the Americans would have fared.

We were on our way, Arrarat standing over us on our right as we headed down a newly paved dual carriageway at 90kph, just to prove wrong, our theory that roads deteriorate the further you go from the capital.

In the east of Iran the wheat was harvested, in the west it was a golden colour ready for harvest, in Turkey it was still green. I guess this was all a function of when the rains came to allow the farmers to sow they crop.

Dogubayazit was our first stop. The Isak Pasa Palace is perched on the side of a craggy mountain amongst the ruins of an 18c Ottoman village.

The roadside was a blaze of colour. White, purple, yellow and pink wild flowers spread across uncultivated meadows. And on the road, no one was trying to kill us. The sparse traffic overtook on our left, they indicated when they want to pass, if we had not already moved right, and the cars were mainly new and European. They ignored the speed limit. There were a number of Police checks, but with their armoured personnel carriers, it seems they were there for regional security, rather than concerned with speed limits.

Erzurum is noted for study (a quarter of the 400k population are university students) and skiing in the nearby Kackar Mountains. It also has a rich and old history. The Yakutiye Madresesi dominates the cities central park. It was built in 1310 when the Mongols controlled the place. Differing to the ones we saw in Central Asia its central court yard is completely roofed in. This may have had something to do with the climate. The older Cifte Minareli Medrese was also built during the control of the Mongols. Its style was similar to the Central Asian buildings, with perhaps a little less mosaics. The large Citadel was built in the 5th Century by Theodosius, the Byzantine emperor.   

We experienced an one and a half hour time change when we crossed the border, so dinner was now back to 8.00pm. In looking for a restaurant for dinner, scouting parties were not so interested in what was on the menu, but whether they served beer. Call us weak, but we were all desperate for a cold beer. The guidebooks and a few quick questions indicated that Erzurum’s oldest restaurant was licensed. We arrive just as the call to prayer echoed out across town. The eating could commence.

As we shuffled our chairs into place, the first course hit the table with glasses of water. The second a few minutes later and after 10 minutes we were into our third and main course. But beers were a problem. Not until the final call to prayer during Ramadan. This was at 10.00pm. Erzurum is categorised as a conservative city. The restaurant manager was apologetic, but he had a house full of locals enjoying the set course Ramadan special menu and he was not going to upset them for us. The whole meal including desert, but no beer, was finished within 40 minutes and we managed to drag it out to an hour with a couple of cups of TEA. We were the last to leave at 9.00pm as the staff were settling in for their meals.

It had been a long day, so we were off to bed. But I think we were the only ones. The whole of town, including babies must have been wandering up and down the main street.

Day 83 - Friday 23th June - Orumiyeh to Maku

Driving with altitude.

From our hotel room window you could see the snow capped peaks of the border. About 40 kilometers to the southwest Iraq and due west Turkey. But today we were headed north to Maku in the north west corner to Iran, our last stop before the border crossing. Maku is situated just across the border from Armenia and a little to the east Azerbaijan.

The morning was cool and crisp. The sky, the clearest we had seen for ages. No smog, desert dust or salt haze. The rugged, rocky brown mountains were vivid. The locals must have all been sleeping in after a late night celebrating the closing stages of Ramadan as the roads were deserted. Along the roadside the melon vendors were our limited company.

North of Orumiyeh

In the fields a multitude of crops were being cultivated, from sun flower to canola and wheat. We even spotted an ostrich in a cage. While the mountains were bare the valleys were wall to wall cultivation with irrigation ditches running through the paddocks. 

We had some ambitious challenges set for the day, a couple of sites and a BBQ lunch. A number of us were sceptical that this feat could be pulled off, but Hesan our guide assured us that with the help of the MG Service team he had things under control.

First stop for the day was a tower in the town of Khoy to visit the burial site of Shams Tabrizi a Muslim - dervish philosopher of the 13th century who is reputed to have put Rumi, the great Persian poet on the right track. It is marked with a 20m brick tower adorned with sheep skulls and horns.

It was a challenge to get there as the main streets were all blocked off with barriers and police. A spontaneous demonstration had been organised across the country to protest against the US treatment of Palestinians. We were not sure what that actually meant, and so were anyone we met. 

From there off to find a spot for a BBQ. Its not easy when all the flat ground is cultivated, the rocky, arid hills are exposed and flat, and the villages are no go zones because its Ramadan and the locals will kill us for eating. An out of the way spot was selected amongst the vegetable patches after a short negotiation with a local farmer, but as soon as we stopped all the local kids arrived on their push bikes, shortly followed by their parents. There was of course no a scrap of fire wood to be found, but the ever thoughtful MG Service team had contemplated this and had a couple of bags of charcoal. A few river stones to rest the skewers on and we were cooking. The sceptics had to eat humble pie.

After lunch we headed off for the Qareh Kalisa (black church) of St Thaddaeus. The road climbed and we were driving through rolling, arid hills up to 2000m. Broad acres of golden wheat swayed in the breeze, waiting for harvest. The cars swept and dipped on the smooth, deserted road. It was magnificent driving.   

And then over a short rise, the Church appeared. It is the best maintained of all Iran’s medieval churches. Today it stands alone, not far from a small Kurdish village. Buts its difficult to understand how it had come to be built in this remote location. It is believed that St Thaddaeus established the church on this site in AD43. As the story goes, he was either an apostle of St Bartholomew or was St Bartholomew. But whatever the case he was so successful, that the Armenian king, who ruled this area, lopped off his head and that of 3000 of his followers in AD66. The chapel was built here in AD371 on the site of his supposed grave. Like all these things, what you see today may not actually be the original church. It’s been extended, renovated, fallen down in earthquakes and rebuilt over the past 17 centuries. But is was a very moving site.

Today the nearby Kurdish village, carries on life much as they must have done at the time the church was originally built. Low mud huts, piles of dung stacked up against the walls to provide fuel for their stoves and a few sheep scatted around the hills. I suspect that life would be fairly challenging for them in the middle of winter.

We descended down out of the hills to Maku, our destination for the night, a few kilometres from the border.  The town sits boxed in a soaring, rocky canyon. A long time gateway through the mountains, Maku guarded the Ottoman – Persian frontier. To get a better view, we clambered up the steep slope to the crumbling remnants of the old citadel, built under a massive overhanging cliff.

Despite this being the major border crossing with Turkey, open 24 hours a day, the town showed very little benefit from the traffic (nearly all trucks) passing through.