Sunday, March 27, 2005
Chris' First night in an Iraqi Jail
The first thing to cross my mind was that there were far too many people in the room. In retrospect this was the mother of all understatements, I felt like I was in an Amnesty International brochure. All of my worst fears in one and yet for some strange reason I was too shocked or scared be scared just yet. Forty nine pairs of eyes turned to look at me from what I would have considered a single cell. I stood there frozen with my back against the door, barely even enough room for me to stand and glanced around. In that brief moment everyone in the room looked like a terrorist, long beards and angry eyes, exactly the people that I was trying to avoid and now here I was locked up in a very small space with loads of them. Surely the fact that they were in jail meant that they were all hardened criminals and were willing to chop heads for the cause or even just for fun?
"Salaam..." I mumbled in a weak gesture of peace."Sit down, sit down" a voice came from somewhere near my right knee. There was some shuffling and a small space appeared, just about large enough for me to squat in."Where are you from?" the inevitable question. I winced as I answered them knowing that British citizens have few friends in Iraq, but also silently grateful that there weren't any British soldiers in this part of the country.
Before I could even stop and think what had happened to me I was summoned to meet the boss. It took me a minute or two to negotiate the five metres to the other end of the room, carefully stepping over the sprawling mass of people that lay in my way. Despite the intense lack of space and the boss and his sidekick being the two fattest people in the room, they were sitting in relative comfort and there was easily enough space for me to sit down next to them. For a moment I sat there in silence, their stares fixed upon me and I began to contemplate my fate. The very fact that there was a boss at all scared me as it played to one of the many stereotypes that I had about life in prison, the other being that I was going to spend the rest of my very short life being savagely ass raped by the fat sweaty mass that I saw before me, and, for that matter, anyone else who cared to have me as their bitch. Fortunately my first impressions were wrong and the fat sweaty mass extended his fat sweaty hand and introduced himself.
"You are English? Welcome to my room, my name is Naif. You know like the English word knife." With which he slowly drew his finger across his throat. "Ha ha, do not worry I am joking." I tried to crack a smile but forgive me if I didn't think it was the funniest of gags
"I like English. What is your name?" and with that we were friends. There was of course an ulterior motive for his 'charming' manner; he wanted someone to help him improve his English.
He called over an older Egyptian man called Ahmed, one of many, so we called him Caca Mouserie, (Egyptian Uncle). Caca Mouserie was one of the nicest people that I was to meet in prison. He had travelled the world as a ship's engineer, had lived for many years in Greece and Spain and spoke almost fluent English. Being able to speak to someone who could actually understand me made such a difference and he really helped me get through the first few hours. I was still visibly shaking and there was a tremble to my voice so he got out a small chess set carved from pieces of candle and we began to play to take my mind off things but somehow it made things worse as if I was putting off the inevitable. I have never tried so hard to loose a game of chess in my life, so after a few short minutes he carefully packed the game away and introduced me to some of the people that we were lying on.
"This is Karzan, he is the Kurdish taekwondo champion but he has been in here for the last seven months." Karzan was missing all of the toes on one foot and delighted in telling me that he had killed five people. He then proceeded to point people out and give me each person's body count, simulating the method in which each victim was dispatched in gruesome detail.
I suppose that I should have been scared, which of course I was, I was petrified, but everything was just washing over me. I was still under the impression that there had been a terrible mistake and I would wake up any minute safe and sound back in Turkey. All I could think of for ages was that today is my ex girlfriend's birthday. For the last few days I had been looking forward to e-mailing her as her birthday is the only real time that I feel welcome to communicate with her. Now as the reality of the situation dawned on me I came to realise that I wouldn't be able to wish her a happy birthday after all.
After a few hours the door was opened and food was handed out. This cut down on space even more as we all crouched with our knees under our chins and tucked in to the food which was a chicken drumstick and bread which we ate with our hands as there was only about ten plastic spoons to go around. There were four two litre plastic coke bottles of water that we were allowed do drink from but we had to be sparing as that is not very much between fifty people. Everything was shared by two in the cell and eating was no exception. Luckily for me on that first night I shared with Naif, who obviously normally ate alone, which meant that I was well fed as he could pretty much eat as much as he liked.
Shortly after we had finished our food we were allowed out to the toilet in twos and threes, but only for a minute or two. Prisoners assigned to the task would walk up and down shouting"De de hasara de, yalla de yalla de yalla yalla yalla", which loosely translates as get a fucking move on. There was no lock on the door which meant that they could kick on the door causing it to crash open on to your head if you spent any longer than a few second in the booth. This just added to the misery as we weren't even allowed to piss in peace. For some people this was a serious problem. Caca Mouserie, for example had diabetes and a bladder infection, neither of which benefited from this kind of treatment.
While I was washing my hands I was called over to talk with the guard who was supervising us all. I was a little nervous but I was to become very accustomed to being the object of attention. It turned out that he was the nicest guard in the whole prison and a really nice guy as well. His name was Ahmed and even thought the real motive for him calling me over was to practice his English he gave me a cigarette and assured me that there had been some sort of mistake and that I obviously wasn't a terrorist and he was quite sure that I would be released the following morning.
"Do not worry you will not stay here long. You are only here because you arrived after the director had gone home and no one can be released without his approval." He said "I am sure that you will be out of here in the morning."
He even went to another cell who were still eating and got me another chicken drumstick and a piece of bread. I felt quite bad as I was feeling so scared that I didn't really have an appetite and I knew that there were those in my cell who were watching me that would have loved to be eating it and were also more deserving of it. I sat there eating with him hoping that they wouldn't resent me too much for the preferential treatment I was getting.
All too quickly it was time to lock the door again and so I reluctantly went back in. As soon as the door was locked behind us people started praying. This took up at least half an hour as most of us would have to stand with our backs against the wall while fifteen or so people prayed and then they would swap and the whole process would start again. I was one of three people out of fifty that didn't pray.
This happened five times a day, the first being before sunrise every morning. To me it was just one more inconvenience that I could have done without, but for them it seemed to provide a real focus to their days. There were people in there that certainly weren't so religious on the outside and yet in here they were as pious as could be. The only two books that we were allowed in the cell were Korans and they were treated with the utmost respect. So much so in fact that I, as an infidel, wasn't even allowed to touch either of them, even if that meant waking someone else up to pass it along the cell.
As we felt the night draw in (it was hard to tell as there were no windows in the cell), we arranged ourselves for bed. Naif and his three friends, Mohammed Fil, Cac Najat and Karzan all had enough space to lie down comfortably. They took up about four metres squared between them, leaving fourteen square metres for the remaining forty six of us which works out as almost exactly one square foot of space each. We were all in pairs and took it in turns to lean against the wall and half lie down. We slept in three hour shifts. I say slept but being six foot I am taller then the average Iraqi and so had even less space to play with. The space was the worst thing to have to deal with but there were other factors too such as the strip light that was on twenty four hours a day which took some getting used to. Then there was the heat. Fifty men in one very small cell with no windows, you can imagine that it got pretty hot. Thankfully it was only spring.
For my first night I was paired up with this kind but very annoying man called Kawa who slept against the door. This was kind of a mixed blessing as the strip under the door was our only supply of fresh air, so I was relatively cool, but everyone else in the room became very concerned that I might block it up so I was constantly being told off in either Arabic of Kurdish, neither of which I could understand. I hardly even closed my eyes that night and after three hours Kawa and I changed places, but three hours after that he refused to change again so I spent the night sitting up trying to get whatever sleep I could until five thirty when I had to get up to make room for people praying...
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Full Moon Rising
We arrived in Mardin as the sun was setting and the moon was rising. The Syrian plain is the view from our window and the prospect for tomorrow, but Zim is still without a visa.
We went in search of an alleged synagogue, but were led to a church by a child in the dark.
We went in search of an alleged synagogue, but were led to a church by a child in the dark.
The Legend of Dirbakir
Again we found ourselves having to say goodbye to the friends we had made. The day was not solely dedicated to goodbyes however, as we also made new friends.
We were taken to a house in the heart of the old city by our friend ''the old man from the hotel.'' We followed him down narrow alleys where children's playful screams (occasionally mixed with the call to prayer) were the music to their mother's doing their washing and meat hug in shop windows. The house belonged to another friendly old man who, in no time was playing a Kurish instrument & singing to us. We enjoyed tea, ''nargillah'' and live music to start the day.
In the afternoon we walked for twenty minutes to say goodbye to our friends the pigeon shepherds who turned out not to be there. We instead said goodbye to thirty people we had never met before. To add to the awkward we shock all of their hands. After about ten we realized it was just weird, but that we still had a long way to go.
We were taken to a house in the heart of the old city by our friend ''the old man from the hotel.'' We followed him down narrow alleys where children's playful screams (occasionally mixed with the call to prayer) were the music to their mother's doing their washing and meat hug in shop windows. The house belonged to another friendly old man who, in no time was playing a Kurish instrument & singing to us. We enjoyed tea, ''nargillah'' and live music to start the day.
In the afternoon we walked for twenty minutes to say goodbye to our friends the pigeon shepherds who turned out not to be there. We instead said goodbye to thirty people we had never met before. To add to the awkward we shock all of their hands. After about ten we realized it was just weird, but that we still had a long way to go.
Monday, March 21, 2005
A lot of people with a lot of gas
On the way to Newroz celebrations
Kurdish Pride
Displaying this flag on any other day is liable to get you arrested, or worse.
Newroz Piroz Be
Happy New Year!
Today we celebrated Kurdish New Year in style. We joined ten thousand people for a New Year's celebration in a field a few miles out of town. After losing ourselves in the crowd we found each other again on the roof of a warehouse. Perched there we watched a sea of red, green, and yellow (the colors of Kurdistan). The party lasted all day and culminated in a concert by Ibrahim Tatlisis, quite the star in Turkey. It was an honor to be a part of the celebrations and to be a witness to the unity of the Kurdish people.
Today we celebrated Kurdish New Year in style. We joined ten thousand people for a New Year's celebration in a field a few miles out of town. After losing ourselves in the crowd we found each other again on the roof of a warehouse. Perched there we watched a sea of red, green, and yellow (the colors of Kurdistan). The party lasted all day and culminated in a concert by Ibrahim Tatlisis, quite the star in Turkey. It was an honor to be a part of the celebrations and to be a witness to the unity of the Kurdish people.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
The Cheeseman
(Theme song of the Cheeseman is the same as that of Shaft)
Today was a day of meetings all over town. Our first appointment was with a group of pigeon shepherds. We were invited to sit for a while and spent the morning talking in an old man's shanty in the sun.
Appointment number two was with an old man who lives in our motel. He took us on a walk to a mosque that used to be a church.
Appointment number three was epic: The Cheeseman! Our friend from the cheese and chilly shop who invited us back to his "bachelor pad" where we spent the evening on his roof around a fire. Quite soon we realized that the Cheeseman spoke German and communication improved for a time before declining again on account of his heavy drinking. A Kurdish wedding nearby provided us with music. One of the evenings many highlights was the cheeseman pissing into the stream that dissected his house.
As we retired we had another brief meeting with the old man from the motel, but the cheeseman was a hard act to follow.
Today was a day of meetings all over town. Our first appointment was with a group of pigeon shepherds. We were invited to sit for a while and spent the morning talking in an old man's shanty in the sun.
Appointment number two was with an old man who lives in our motel. He took us on a walk to a mosque that used to be a church.
Appointment number three was epic: The Cheeseman! Our friend from the cheese and chilly shop who invited us back to his "bachelor pad" where we spent the evening on his roof around a fire. Quite soon we realized that the Cheeseman spoke German and communication improved for a time before declining again on account of his heavy drinking. A Kurdish wedding nearby provided us with music. One of the evenings many highlights was the cheeseman pissing into the stream that dissected his house.
As we retired we had another brief meeting with the old man from the motel, but the cheeseman was a hard act to follow.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
All the fun of the fair with none of the height restrictions
Today we were invited by a Haji for tea as we walked around the walls of Dirkabir in Kurdish Mesopotamia.
After sitting for a considerable time we met his son and a while later were introduced to a friend of theirs as he shouted a word we had not heard in weeks; "Hash-hash!" Being guests in their country it would have been rude to refuse. Our group soon walked off and smoked few joints. We were then taken down the hill away from the city walls and into a field on the banks of the Tigers River where they soon readied a fire for making more hash. As one of our new friends was cooking up the hash we heard gun shots in the distance and in responses one of the men in our group pulled a gun out which he soon used to empty a clip into a field of Romaine lettuce (Marror in Kurdish). Under normal circumstances this might have been alarming but we have grown quite accustomed to expecting the unexpected. Nobody raised an eyebrow so we continued chatting and soon were enjoying the fruits of our labor.
Making Hash the Kurdish way
Our first impression of Kurdish hospitality was much like that of Turkish hospitality nearly two months ago: leaving little to be desired.
The epilogue to our wonderful day: We scaled the city walls, enjoyed a meal of cheese, bread, and chilies. As we admired the city below from a perfect view we witnessed a minor blackout.
After sitting for a considerable time we met his son and a while later were introduced to a friend of theirs as he shouted a word we had not heard in weeks; "Hash-hash!" Being guests in their country it would have been rude to refuse. Our group soon walked off and smoked few joints. We were then taken down the hill away from the city walls and into a field on the banks of the Tigers River where they soon readied a fire for making more hash. As one of our new friends was cooking up the hash we heard gun shots in the distance and in responses one of the men in our group pulled a gun out which he soon used to empty a clip into a field of Romaine lettuce (Marror in Kurdish). Under normal circumstances this might have been alarming but we have grown quite accustomed to expecting the unexpected. Nobody raised an eyebrow so we continued chatting and soon were enjoying the fruits of our labor.
Making Hash the Kurdish way
Our first impression of Kurdish hospitality was much like that of Turkish hospitality nearly two months ago: leaving little to be desired.
The epilogue to our wonderful day: We scaled the city walls, enjoyed a meal of cheese, bread, and chilies. As we admired the city below from a perfect view we witnessed a minor blackout.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Facial slug
Zim has a moustache. It is offensive in the extreme and quite frankly unacceptable. I would like to quote him from an earlier post if I may:
"I am not sure if you have ever been in a confined space with a group of mustaches, but it is more then frightening. It is down right disturbing" (Turbulence - 11 March)
"I am not sure if you have ever been in a confined space with a group of mustaches, but it is more then frightening. It is down right disturbing" (Turbulence - 11 March)
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Van Tastic
We would like to add that we are now in Van, a place made famous by cats with two different colored eyes and a large lake.
Monday, March 14, 2005
I am proud to call my self a Türk.
At Gunpoint I would be proud to call myself anything!
In search of Noah
Our journey east into Kurdistan took us to Doğubeyazit, the home of Mount Ararat and the final resting place of Noah's Ark (as legend has it). I wish there were something interesting that I could write about it but unfortunately such is not the case. It is a huge mountain with snow on it...
Sadly the most exciting part of the trip was the massive military base at the foot of the mountain which is home to thousands of tanks and the large amounts of propaganda which are no doubt there to remind the Kurdish population how happy they are to be Turkish.
Ishakpaşa Serai
As we walked past the base to Ishakpaşa Serai (a fort that is on the 100Lira note) a group of children on their way home from school walked and entertained us. If we stopped for more then a second we were whistled at by the whistle bitch, a soldier whose only job on the base is to stand at the fence and whistle if people stop to look.
We explored the mountains around the fort and tried to get a better view of Ararat to see the ark itself, but wouldn't you know it.... It isn't there.
Peek-a-boo
Mount Ararat just visible behind a bullet holed sign
Sunday, March 13, 2005
Awful Man
The man on the bus who listens to all his ringtones and thinks its cool!
Saturday, March 12, 2005
A Shaky Start
This morning as we were reading our book deciding where we would venture to next we came across many mentions of earthquakes and started discussing how it would be crazy to experience one. An hour or so later as we were still sitting in our room discussing a plan for the day our beds began to shake. We both looked at each other with some uncertainty as to what was happening, but when out the window we saw that our building was not the only thing shaking we soon became aware of what was happening. Though the earthquake was small and no damage was done it was still slightly unnerving to have the earth shake. Being on the second floor of a building with five floors above, we were lucky that the earth shock as little as it did.
Having now been struck by lightening together (while swimming in a storm in China) and in an earthquake together we are both very appreciative to still be alive.
Having now been struck by lightening together (while swimming in a storm in China) and in an earthquake together we are both very appreciative to still be alive.
Friday, March 11, 2005
Turbulence
What was supposed to be a normal bus trip from Göreme (Cappadocian region) to Erzerum (Eastern Turkey on the Iranian border) proved to be far from it. As early as buying the tickets we found that this trip was doomed. The ticket seller in Göreme decided to tell us that there were no tickets to our destination just because we asked another bus company about there prices. As we just sat and waited for the bus regardless he figured that in the end he would sell us the ticket, but as the bus was already in the station we had little time to work out the details. We were also short with money and when Chris went to withdraw the difference the machine ate his card. Lucky for us there was a different machine around the corner and with tickets in hand we were off. Outside snow continued to fall horizontally with increasing vigor. After a bus switch an hour away we were off once again with a bus full of mustachioed men. The funniest of our bus company however was an older woman seated across from us who was holding on to the bus for dear life and had a look of fear that I have never seen someone maintain for such a long period of time. As we were sleeping she left us, but her reason for fear soon became clear as we awoke to a load noise. The noise sounded like a mountain was falling on the bus and we began to feel the drivers loss of control as soon as the sound began. We are not sure what exactly caused us to hit the side of a mountain, but no reason is a good enough. With no one on the bus speaking English there are a number of things that could have happened depending on what the sign language was intended to mean. Either way, we were now in the middle of nowhere being slowly snowed in on the "side" of the road. As time passed we both felt it best to resume sleeping but the ever growing boredom of our band of mustachioed men soon became too much for them and with us as their only chance of entertainment they soon woke us. I am not sure if you have ever been in a confined space with a group of mustaches, but it is more then frightening. It is down right disturbing especially if they are talking to you in Turkish and so bored they will not take sleeping as a legitimate form of escape from the overwhelming situation. I have had nightmares that I enjoyed more.
As we were the only ones going to Erzerum, our bus bitch (the bus steward) stopped the next bus going our way and rushed us onto our new uncrashed bus. Just when we thought we were finally on our way however a man came to collect money from us and we were again faced with conflict. Having paid for a ticket to our destination once already we were unwilling to hand over more money. Had we known that we would pay twice were certainly would not have agreed to switch buses, but with that not an option anymore we were at a loss. Our lack of Turkish proved useful as it bought us time, but the man demanding money grew impatient very fast and began to threaten us (with force) that our choices were pay or be left. The threat of being thrown off would not have carried so much weight were it not for the storm outside and the fact that now were were miles from anything. Looking outside white was all there was to be seen. Getting out in the middle of nowhere with a very limited knowledge of Turkish in the midst of a blizzard was hardly an option. Lucky for us a blind man who spoke English calmed the man down and began to translate for us. After an hour and a half of this the blind man became tired of his job and the angry defeated man (as we were clearly never going to pay or get off the bus) just sat behind us and watched us with evil eyes for the duration of the ride.
When we finally arrived we walked as fast as one can without running in the knee high snow and found our way to a cheap place to leave our things
As we were the only ones going to Erzerum, our bus bitch (the bus steward) stopped the next bus going our way and rushed us onto our new uncrashed bus. Just when we thought we were finally on our way however a man came to collect money from us and we were again faced with conflict. Having paid for a ticket to our destination once already we were unwilling to hand over more money. Had we known that we would pay twice were certainly would not have agreed to switch buses, but with that not an option anymore we were at a loss. Our lack of Turkish proved useful as it bought us time, but the man demanding money grew impatient very fast and began to threaten us (with force) that our choices were pay or be left. The threat of being thrown off would not have carried so much weight were it not for the storm outside and the fact that now were were miles from anything. Looking outside white was all there was to be seen. Getting out in the middle of nowhere with a very limited knowledge of Turkish in the midst of a blizzard was hardly an option. Lucky for us a blind man who spoke English calmed the man down and began to translate for us. After an hour and a half of this the blind man became tired of his job and the angry defeated man (as we were clearly never going to pay or get off the bus) just sat behind us and watched us with evil eyes for the duration of the ride.
When we finally arrived we walked as fast as one can without running in the knee high snow and found our way to a cheap place to leave our things
Monday, March 07, 2005
Dino... Day 5
We awoke to a boiled egg and tea breakfast and then due to dwindling food supplies we packed up and headed to the next town. We were also in search of cave #3. At the village we paid a visit to our friend the shop keeper who, surprising as it may seem, was watching the oscars. We joined him, enjoyed tea and re-supplied. As we left the town neither of us could get over how surreal our little excursion into the village had been.
While exploring more tunnels and caves we stumbled upon the perfect cave #3, a luxury penthouse apartment and with expert timing as rain began during our wood gathering. After hauling the best part of a tree up the 20 foot vertical hole that led to our cave we set about burning it which turned out to be a dismal failure. So much so that after 1 hour and lots of paper later our fire was not even adequate enough to bother the bat that flew in to it. He seemed so comfortable in fact that he decided to stay there for a photo.
With a mounting sense of failure we reluctantly left the cave and started the dark journey to the next town aided only by a candle which proved to be more of a hindrance than a help. After losing our way many times we eventually came to a beautiful waterfall lit by the stars.
When we eventually came to the town we found shelter and hot water.
But who took the photo?
While exploring more tunnels and caves we stumbled upon the perfect cave #3, a luxury penthouse apartment and with expert timing as rain began during our wood gathering. After hauling the best part of a tree up the 20 foot vertical hole that led to our cave we set about burning it which turned out to be a dismal failure. So much so that after 1 hour and lots of paper later our fire was not even adequate enough to bother the bat that flew in to it. He seemed so comfortable in fact that he decided to stay there for a photo.
With a mounting sense of failure we reluctantly left the cave and started the dark journey to the next town aided only by a candle which proved to be more of a hindrance than a help. After losing our way many times we eventually came to a beautiful waterfall lit by the stars.
When we eventually came to the town we found shelter and hot water.
But who took the photo?
Sunday, March 06, 2005
Barney... Day 4
Popped next door to check out our neighbouring caves and crawled into a small opening in the ground that led us in to various chambers. We soon found ourselves deep underground crawling through long small tunnels on our bellies like Indiana Jones. Oh how we were scared. When we could take the fear no longer we began climbing and exploring the upper levels which after much scrambling up vertical tunnels we found ourselves in a large church 3/4 of the way up the cliff face. The back wall had colapsed in to the valley 150 feet below leaving us exposed to the sheer magnitude of our location.
The view down the valley
We sat and smoked a joint at the top but when the rock that we were sitting on began to slide off the edge we decided that it was time to come back down.
To celebrate our days exploration we enjoyed a pasta and boiled egg feast that night.
The view down the valley
We sat and smoked a joint at the top but when the rock that we were sitting on began to slide off the edge we decided that it was time to come back down.
To celebrate our days exploration we enjoyed a pasta and boiled egg feast that night.
Saturday, March 05, 2005
Betty...Day 3
Spent a long lazy day lounging around the cave. Zim was sick - caused by drinking the river water. Chris, solid as a rock after building an immune system to rival that of God's after drinking Afghani river water, got bored of mocking Zim and set to work turning the blanket into a sleeping bag.
That evening we spent many more hours abusing our lungs and eyes nursing our smoke pile that produced little fire, but enough to pull off tea and momentary warmth.
Beautiful clear night and almost every star was visible but the fear of savage beasts and marauding psychos prevented us from going out so we could only enjoy the view from the realative safety of our 3rd floor terrace.
That evening we spent many more hours abusing our lungs and eyes nursing our smoke pile that produced little fire, but enough to pull off tea and momentary warmth.
Beautiful clear night and almost every star was visible but the fear of savage beasts and marauding psychos prevented us from going out so we could only enjoy the view from the realative safety of our 3rd floor terrace.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Fred...Day 2
Relocated to the perfect cave #2.
3 floors of cave luxury at an affordable price. This cave was better than most homes we have seen and we had it all to ourselves - well us and a pair of bats. We left our bags there and continued down the gorge to the next village to get supplies - notably a blanket. On our return as the rain increased we quickly took shelter under a boulder with 2 fishermen who taught us how to throw a net - which we don't have. Once back home we dropped off the supplies and took the axe to find some fire wood which we soon realised we should have done prior to the rain.
After as much smoke inhalation as one might immagine from trying to start a fire with wet wood we settled down to a dinner of cheese omlette and much tea. Chris slept under a blanket-Rejoice
3 floors of cave luxury at an affordable price. This cave was better than most homes we have seen and we had it all to ourselves - well us and a pair of bats. We left our bags there and continued down the gorge to the next village to get supplies - notably a blanket. On our return as the rain increased we quickly took shelter under a boulder with 2 fishermen who taught us how to throw a net - which we don't have. Once back home we dropped off the supplies and took the axe to find some fire wood which we soon realised we should have done prior to the rain.
After as much smoke inhalation as one might immagine from trying to start a fire with wet wood we settled down to a dinner of cheese omlette and much tea. Chris slept under a blanket-Rejoice
Thursday, March 03, 2005
Wilmaa. Cave life day 1
Arrived in the Ilhara valley after a series of trains busses and minibusses from Izmir via Ankara - again!. The gorge is a 16km velley that the guidebook (Thanks MJ) describes as "as beautiful place as one might conceive". After being chased down the valley by the ticket inspector we decided to get our moneys worth and immediatly set to work finding the perfect cave home.
Cave #1 had a seperate bedroom with a large living area and an ideal fire pit which we had soon transformed into a raging inferno. Cave #1 was sadly lacking in a chimney and while smiking ourselves to the very brink of death we decided that the next day we would have to find a better home.
That night Zim slept in the warmth and luxury of his sleeping bag - he even wore pyjamas - while a fully clothed Chris lay huddled in a ball on the floor with not so much as a cotton sheet to protect him. Tomorrow must get blanket!
Cave #1 had a seperate bedroom with a large living area and an ideal fire pit which we had soon transformed into a raging inferno. Cave #1 was sadly lacking in a chimney and while smiking ourselves to the very brink of death we decided that the next day we would have to find a better home.
That night Zim slept in the warmth and luxury of his sleeping bag - he even wore pyjamas - while a fully clothed Chris lay huddled in a ball on the floor with not so much as a cotton sheet to protect him. Tomorrow must get blanket!
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