Reminiscence from Anatolia- Part Nineteen: Ephemeral Humans and Long-lasting cultures

Momo is a staple diet in Tibetan culture… I love them… and so does my wife.

When I came to Afghanistan, I discovered something called Manto… which is more famous in Hazarajat (Bamiyan and adjoining areas) as well as the northern parts (among the Tajiks and Uzbeks)… it is less popular in Pashtoon areas, though. Manto is a close variant of Momo, served with minted Yoghurt and cream- it is delicious… it was a serendipity discovering a Momo’s variant in Afghanistan.

I argued that perhaps it’s a cross cultural thing… The Central Asian and Tibetan culture met at Kashgar in Xinjiang… and a lot of cross-cultural exchanges must have occurred over there… some of them must have entered Afghanistan from Kashgar. (A similar variant is found in Central Asia as Sambousek, and is a pre-cursor to North Indian fast-food known as Samosa… in fact the first time when I was introduced to Momo… I was told it is a Chicken Samosa)

When I landed at Kayseri… I found a shop selling a similar such thing in Turkey… called Manti… it was an amazing cross culture discovery… culture- in form of languages and food- has an amazing ability to diffuse… the study of cultures and their similarities can be a great source of learning about common human heritage…

A few days ago, I was talking to a senior diplomat, who had been in Brazil a few days ago… he told me that Brazilians call shirts as Qamees… and wondered how a far-off land could have a similar word for shirts as South Asia… I pointed out… he has missed a point… Cultural diffusion!!!

Qamees is an Arabic word… and Arabs ruled Andalusia for ages… Spanish developed as a bridge language between Arabs and Europe… and borrowed heavily from Arabic (at least the common nouns)… and then Spanish moved to South America… these words must have travelled with the Spanish to Brazil… like it did travel with Arabs to South Asia.

The bus journey from Kayseri to Kahta was eventless… I arrived at Kahta in the early morning. But I had to go even farther to Nemrut Dagi.

A day ago, I made a call to Karadut Pension in Karadut village … Kahta, Adiyaman, Karadut- all these places are in the vicinity of Nemrut Dagi… Karadut is the closest inhabitation that one can get to while approaching Nemrut… I told the Karadut person to pick me up from Kahta Bus Stand… and drive me to Nemrut… he offered me stay in his pension, drive up to Nemrut and some local sight-seeing for 100 dollars… he also offered me to drop at Euphrates crossing from where I can go to Diyarbakir. The offer sounded nice.

The Karadut person (let’s call him Aly, though I have forgotten his name) picked me up from Kahta Bus stand and drove me to his Pension… and served me some frugal breakfast… he asked me at what time I would like to go to Nemrut… I told him that I would prefer sunset… I was told that around sunset time… the Western ruins of Nemrut acquire an orange hue, which adds to their solitude and mystery.

I took a quick shower and went to sleep… and slept for few hours in order to recharge myself… the last night was sleepless… the bus started at 11:45 pm and landed me in Kahta at 5 am- not giving me any time for sound sleep. Moreover, I realized that the ticket that I had bought in Goreme was a wee bit expensive and I would have been better off if I would had traveled to Kayseri and then bought ticket directly from Kayseri Company…. That also hung heavy on my mind.

I was woken up by Aly at around 12 noon… he told me that its getting cloudy and therefore I may not be able to see the Sunset at Nemrut… he told me that I would be better off if I make it to Nemrut now… as it would give me some time to see other sites around the place. I looked out… the weather was ominous…I bought into his argument and nodded…

We set out for Nemrut right after… and reached there in about half an hour… in the mid-way, I saw a place called Cesme Pension… about 3 kilometers from Nemrut… I gathered that I could have reached even closer to Nemrut by staying at Cesme… and could have walked up to Nemrut Dagi from there… Karadut, incidentally, was about 6 kilometers away from Nemrut… as compared to Cesme’s 3 kilometers.

Dagi… literally means hill… and Nemrut Dagi is located no-where… amidst rolling hills standing majestic as the tallest peak in the vicinity… it wouldn’t have been any better than other hillocks in the vicinity but for its commanding position from where one can get panoramic views of the mighty Euphrates… and probably this is the reason why, almost 2000 years ago) the mighty Commagene king (landmass between the Caspian and Black Sea, between the Roman and Parthian empires) Antichous chose this site to construct his giant statues… one in the East terrace and other in the West (as a depiction that he oversaw the East and the West and therefore ruled the entire world)… Antichous constructed his giant statues among the statues of Hercules, Apollo, Zeus and Commagene Goddess… indicating that he, himself, was a God.

Antichous reign did not last very long… after 26 years, within a few years of his death the Commagene empire became a part of Roman empire… his mighty project- the Nemrut Dagi- which announced his stature as God… was forgotten… and then destroyed by an earthquake… the head of Antichous fell on earth… and the place became further oblivious due to frequent dust storms in the region… his mighty memorial got buried under the dust… only to be discovered in modern times… accidentally.

It was initially believed that the place was associated with the biblical king Nemrod who used to kill his enemies and turn their heads into stone and place them atop a mound as a warning to his enemies… thus the place started being called Nemrut Dagi….

The Nemrut statues, today stand enigmatically… perhaps depicting the ephemeral nature of humans… and their kings.

Reminiscence from Anatolia- Part Eighteen: Cappadocia by dusk!

The couple’s name were Nabil and Rasha… they were from Alexandria… where Nabil worked as a Doctor.

It was nice talking to them… they had got married, recently and were on a honeymoon. They had taken a different route to Cappadocia… going to Canakkale, Troy… then to Ankara and then to Cappadocia. They said that I shouldn’t miss Canakkale… I smiled and thought aloud- some other time. I knew I have missed a number of jewels in Turkey… my idea was to cover as many different zones in Turkey as possible- breadth of experience than depth- that, perhaps has been my talisman while traveling… I don’t stay at any place for more than a day… moving constantly… that helps me in covering higher number of places… the depth, I make up for it by reading thereafter.

The Ilhara Valley trek is magical… it makes you stop from time to time… stop, look around and relish the ethereal beauty of the place… the burbling brook- which resonates with your thoughts and amplifies them… giving you a vista to think upon… or the woods which give you solace… or the grottos all around… suggesting you of human possibilities…

I befriended the Iranian couple and the Malaysian guy… while on the trek… the Malaysian, I noticed, had an excellent understanding of photo-ops… he told me to take pictures here and there… and all of them turned out to be extremely well done. Nevertheless, the two of us couldn’t communicate more than that- due to language problems… it actually amazes me… as to how Chinese or Malays or Koreans or Japanese… travel so much… with little knowledge of English or French… the global languages. And yet they do, they are open to so much of international experience. We Indians, sadly, don’t open up to such experiences.

The trek lasted almost an hour… within which we completed about 4 kilometers… it ended at a place called Belisirima. There, on the edge of the river was a small Restaurant- where we were supposed to have our lunch… the restaurant had created seating arrangements wooden canopies by the river… and a few on small man-made islets amidst the river… I chose the islet… the whole environment was magical… the taste of bread, amidst these environs, was mellower… more subtle.

It was time to move… to Selimiye Monastery- a beautiful, rock-cut monastery- which was the epicenter of religion in entire Cappadocia region… Esraa told me that Cappadocia was an important center for Orthodox Christianity Monasticism… and Christian monks from different parts of world… and of different denomination came to Selimiye.

Selimiye was a great place to visit… it was getting darker and perched atop at a height in Selimiye, we could see the silhouettes of Cappadocia panorama. A mosque here… a village there… an abundant Greek church… and hilly surrounding. Selimiye was a great vantage point…

It had a wonderful defense and a great line of sight… which alerted the monks in the monastery even when enemies were afar… the monks used to climb to higher altitude or could fight back- taking advantage of their heights… the cathedral of Selimiye was equally magical… with frescoes- that time has ravaged… slots for books and scrolls…

We were supposed to move to Pigeon Valley panorama from here on… Cappadocian used to rear pigeons in large numbers- they were a good source of meat, and their droppings were great manure… although, Esraa told us, pigeons were plentiful everywhere in Cappadocia… they were astonishingly abundant in the Pigeon Valley… where Cappadocians had made special shelters. Pigeon Valley trek is by itself a stand-alone trek and primary fixture when one is in Cappadocia.

Near the Pigeon Valley panorama was a Onyx Showroom. Onyx is a special stone, which is found abundantly in Cappadocia… and Onyx jewellery has become a sort of cottage industry over here… I was least interested in it… I sat on a bench seeing the wonderful pigeon valley… and wondering… if I could stay in Cappadocia for one more day… I was supposed to leave today… by 8 pm bus to Kayseri and thereafter at 11 pm to Kahta… my whirlwind touring didn’t spare me enough time for Cappadocia… which had much-much more to offer. Nearby someone had created a tree of evil-eyes… Turkish evil-eye (a shining blue round pendant like thing) has assumed global recognition… it is present everywhere… in India, in Egypt, in Jordan, Syria… in the time of dusk… with little light… the evil eye tree looked extremely beautiful and magical…

I was joined by the Tamil gentleman… we started talking… he was originally from Rameshwaram… a Tamil Brahmin… bitter about the treatment given to his community in India… he didn’t long to go back… and found himself comfortable in the West… most of the people I met over here in Cappadocia… were flying back to Istanbul… Cappadocia, for them is the farthest east one comes to travel in Turkey.

I got back to my hotel at around 7… and was packing the wares… when the hotel owner came to clear the bill… he asked me where I am headed after Kahta or Nemrut… I told him to wild South-East… but do not have any plans… any reservations… he said- I like your attitude… you are a true traveler… these words sounded sweet to me.

The bus to Kayseri was late… I had to wait in a small Bus company kiosk for about an hour… it was getting chilly day by day… and days were getting shorter… I was hungry… I wondered if I would have enough time to catch up with a dinner in Kayseri…

I reached Kayseri at around 10.30 pm… I still had about half an hour for my bus… Kayseri bus stand was well organized- so I didn’t have any problem in locating my bus terminal and the bus company…

I rushed for a quick dinner… and came across something unusual… something recognizable… a steamed dough… filled with meat and potato… called Manti…

Time for some more cultural revelations.

Reminiscence from Anatolia- Part Seventeen: On Greeks and Turks, and on Humans

While moving towards Derinkuyu underground city from Goreme Panorama point, we came across a tri-junction… to go to Derinkuyu, we were supposed to move left… the right side road went to Aksaray… and in-front I could see a beautiful vantage of Mount Hassan.

It was cloudy, and the sun was peeping through the clouds every now and then… blessing Mount Hassan with its benevolent rays… it was an ethereal sight… I asked Esraa, if we could stop and I can take a few photographs… she stopped the vehicle… told me that Mount Hassan was less than 3 kilometers from the spot… and in summer-time, one can actually hike all the way up… in a three day trek.

While clicking Mount Hassan and hide-and-seek playing sun… I realized why our forefathers worshipped Sun… the ancient civilizations were mesmerized by Sun… which bestowed them with life… the Egyptian, the Aryans, the Pagans… all worshipped Sun. Today, when we have learnt all the mysteries of it, we find it common-place, in the same league (or the bottom of it) as millions of stars all over the universe… but before these mysteries were solved, Sun had God-like proportions.

When I came out of Derinkuyu, I saw a desolate Greek Orthodox standing forlorn at a distance… I asked Esraa if she could wait for a while… till I check out that church… she said OK… I ran towards the Chruch, wondering if I can take a look inside it… the gate was locked… and it appeared that no one used the place any more, not even open it for maintenance purposes.

Nearby, I saw an old man sitting on a chair, under a tree… I beckoned him and pointed towards the church… wondering if I can go inside… he said something in Turkish and then waived his hands… as if he was saying no-body opens it anymore. He must have been in his early 80s… his wrinkles told me that he has witnessed the harrowing events of Greek-Turkish population exchange when he was an infant.

Greek and Turks used to live in the areas of Turkey and Greek Islands… all over the Agean Sea (as also some parts of mainland Greece) for centuries, together… there were, at times, minor tensions between the two- but never reached a flash-point… however, a few years after the humiliating defeat of Turkey in First World War and rise of Turkish nationalism… tensions between the two communities started rising… leading to the Greek-Turkish war from 1919 to 1922. Greece, left in a lurch by its European allies, succumbed to a humiliating defeat and a treaty was signed between the two parties… which led to a massive population transfer of Greeks in Turkey and Turks in Greece… largely on the basis of religion…

This was one of the first massive population exchange in the world… the biggest of them was in India and Pakistan in 1947. It is a numbing feeling.

A few years ago, while I was in Cyprus… I went to Northern Cyprus for a day with a Greek driver… he took me to a small village and told me that he was born over here… until the war between the Greeks and Turks forced him to leave North Cyprus and migrate to South. There are millions such stories in India, Pakistan, Bangladesh… and many other places… we still live in a world… where religion defines person’s identity and acceptability… and I fear, that this phenomena is not receding but in on the rise.

Our next stop was Ilhara Valley, while going towards it we came across a number of small Cappadocian villages… perhaps, Esraa could read the rumblings inside me, she pointed out a number of dilapidated and deserted churches… she told that in Cappadocia, a vibrant Greek Orthodox community used to live… replaced, all by Turks- including herself… she lamented that though we show people this place like it belonged to our ancestors… the truth is that the heirs of this place are long gone… Turks after all came in Turkey only in medieval ages…

I asked if she feels that the population exchange was futile… she said she was not sure… but almost prophetically said- people would have found some other reasons to fight… how true! The basic bond between humans is that of faith and respect… and when that is gone- issues crop up… issues are symptoms… you solve one, other would crop up… almost unendingly…

We reached Ilhara Valley at around 12… Ilhara is a river gorge… along the cliffs of the gorge; the early Christians made dwelling caves… Cappadocia was a dry place… and the effort was to somehow live near water sources… whatever be the discomforts… Esraa told us- that Ilhara Valley trek is almost 12 kilometers long… but that we would do only do a 4 kilometer stretch till Belisirma… and there, amidst the surrounding, would be treated with a sumptuous lunch.

One needs to go down and down the staircase to the bottom of the valley to start the trek… on my way down; I came across a few cave churches… with beautiful frescoes… still very evident after thousands of years. Esraa told me that these colorful frescoes were made with natural dyes… human-consciousness always had one language…Egypt, India or Turkey… our forefathers used similar elements to express themselves… even the language- people use the same syntax… a noun a verb to express their basic thoughts… a verse in Quran mentions- that God taught human being the names… indicating that the language of humans has always been the same… the sounds differ, the language doesn’t.

Ilhara is a magical place… you trek along a river… a mountain brook… among the woods… and occasionally you lift your head and look at the edges of the cliff- a cave here and a church there… wondering how could our forefathers make a dwelling place in such difficult areas… I was mesmerized by the beauty of the place… and started remembering the beautiful treks of the yesteryears, in the Himalayas…

I promised that I would come again to this place… and trek all of 12 kilometers… and may other treks, which have been left untreaded this time on.

My thoughts were broken by a call… “ Izzayak”… I looked around and saw the same Egyptian couple that I had met at Haga Sofia in Istanbul a few days ago.