Day 4
I woke at 5 feeling not so much like a sultan but managed to
get ready and drag my bag upstairs around 5:30 (the cab was
called for 5:45). I went up to lili's room, two more flights
up, and in the time it took to get up there and escort her
down, a minivan had come and the night manager had loaded
my bag into it. Only it wasn't the right conveyance - it was
headed for the other airport with other people, and I
snatched my bag out just in time.

Our cab, a regular one, came just a little late. We'd been
promised that our fare would be 30 ... on arrival the meter
read something like 30.45; he asked for 30; I gave him 35.

The airport was buzzing, and only one TK chicken was working.
Furthermore, people were cutting in line - some brazenly,
some masterfully - for security. Chaos. Beware old imams who
pretend not to know anything. Especially when they have
canes. Especially when they have canes and large middle-
eastern looking escorts. This time we had no contretemps at
screening (the screener did throw some checkpoint louse out
of line, which provoked much approval from the crowd) and
got to the gate just around boarding time, only to see the
display flashing "30 minute delay." We had just secured
a couple places together in the lobby (there is no Star
lounge in the domestic part of IST) when we heard them
calling boarding all rows. So much for 30 minute delays.

TK2010 IST KSR 0720 0845 321 22BC

We got the nonreclining double in front of the exit row, but
both of us managed to sleep reasonably well. On TK you can't
get the exit row with OLCI.

A short flight that came with sweets and coffee; afterward
the line for the restroom was huge, so I decided to go look
for our van. Discovered there was no re-entry into the area,
I tried to get in the departures side, bladder complaining:
no luck. So I looked forward to the prospect of an hour plus
on a minibus with my eyeballs filling with yellow fluid.

And we waited quite a while for someone on the roster who
didn't show up; eventually we decided she probably had
missed the flight, and the driver drove us off after giving
instructions to one of his cohorts on what to do should the
person eventually get there.

Kayseri is an industrial town, and the landscape, here
merely bleak, turns to blasted but otherworldly as one
got closer to our destination.

The minibus system has evolved peculiarly, with vehicles
crisscrossing paths on apparently no particular schedule
with rendezvous probably much aided by modern cellular
technology. It's a mix and match situation for the
passengers, who get traded back and forth between buses
depending on their destination, but it seems to work,
except that this unfortunate Salvadoran and his wife were
caught in between when the next van didn't show up; they
were told to get into the car owned by the local tea joint,
and the proprietor promised to drive them wherever they were
supposed to go, improv at its best.
===
Our destination, Goreme, is the site of the most famous cave
dwellings. I'd expressed interest in inhabiting same, so
lili had found us accommodation at the Sultan Cave Suites
(as opposed to the Sultanahmet Suites, where we had been in
Istanbul). This facility is part of the Kelebek Hotel, the
first luxury facility to take advantage of the tourist
potential of this area.

We were greeted with true Middle Eastern hospitality and
were offered breakfast before check-in: breads, cheese,
fruit, jams, olives, and beverages, all of exemplary
variety, quantity, and quality.

The hotel (supposedly, according to the literature) occupies
a former cloister carved into the cliffside: the austere
monastic cells have now been turned into rather luxurious
accommodations. In order to afford these, we took one suite
in contrast to our usual splurgy practice of getting two
rooms (beforehand lili had sent me a link to photos of our
digs, which looked big enough so we could have our privacy
as necessary). It turned out to be enormous, luxurious, and
modernly appointed. On negotiating the staircases and twisty
turns on the way from the office, first we encountered the
dining area in front, a patio with a nice little table that
might seat four; then the anteroom, with an armoire and an
antique chest of drawers, as well as plenty of room for
lounging around, but no chairs; off that the front bedroom,
quite attractive, with a queen-size bed; then the bath,
about the size of your ordinary motel room, with a
whirlpool, an old-style sink (with no drain, but I didn't
notice that until I used it) such as we saw in the harem
of the Dolmabahce, a modern sink, a smallish but adequate
shower, and a toilet with about 15 of feet space in front.
Upstairs to the living room, with an apparently nonworking
fireplace, and then the back bedroom, up two giant steps
(they should have made 3 steps, maybe 4); this was actually
inside the cliff proper and very cozy, fitting the king bed
with not an enormous amount of space to spare. In respect
of my Lasix habit, lili took this room.

After getting settled we walked downtown and then the extra
kilometer or two to the open-air museum, a former Orthodox
monastery carved into the mushroom rocks, with frescoes in
some of the churches dating back to the 7th century (though
the nice ones, done in tempera, were maybe 4 or 5 hundred
years later). This is said to be the quintessential cave
community, and it was amazing. On a clear day, which this
was, you can stay forever. We stayed until we got tired of
having bonked our heads on the short doors and until our
feet hurt, having seen many chapels, many frescoes, and
many tourists. Camels, too. Across the road, outside the
museum proper, there's a bigger church, dear to me because
it has a painting of St. Michael in it. And beyond is the
community tucked into the cliffs and mushroom rocks from
which the monastery got its clientele.

The walk back, though largely downhill, seemed harder and
longer, and so when we got back to town we strolled through
the streets of downtown at a relaxing tourist's pace, poking
our noses into stores and restaurants and making plans for
the evening's entertainment. After this surprisingly
refreshing activity, we had the energy to climb up the hill
behind town for a lovely view of the open-air museum and its
nearby valleys. We came down as it was getting cold and dark
and stumbled into a restaurant called Silk Road, on the main
drag, and, as it turns out, recommended in Lonely Planet. As
tourist season was winding down, there were only a couple
other tables occupied; and as it was cold, portable heaters
were deployed and welcome. lili had the traditional warming
comfort meal of tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich,
neither of which was quite the same as what one had when one
was a kid, and hurray for that. I had the famous Cappadocian
pottery stew - you lop off the top of the jug, and all this
delicious lamb and juice bubble out, making a mess, in
anticipation of which they put a paper napkin under the
pottery, and the juices make a mess of that, too. This
version was lamb, zucchini, eggplant, and potatoes in 1/3"
dice (the potatoes twice that size), in a thin brothy tomato
sauce. Pretty good. For her: cheap red wine; for me, Efes.

We returned slowly and satisfiedly to our room, where I
showered with the Kelebek Hotel's custom-made thyme soap.
Made me imagine I was a stew myself.

There's a mosque just down the way. Its auto-muzzein was
out of synch with itself, and the canonic effect was amusing
or annoying ... our quarters were not so soundproof as one
might wish of a cave, and my front room was downright noisy
at times, with revelers coming and going through the night.