Travel Albumfrom Diyarbakır to Nemrut Dağı Milli Parkı

Turkey – January, 2011

by Miguel Bichara

Music:.

Yüce Dağ Başında Kar Varby Âşık Veysel Şatıroğlu

My wife Rita and I spent the whole month of January of 2011 travelling throughout Turkey. Our path is shown above. This slideshow covers only the stretch between Diyarbakır (not included) and Nemrut Dağı

Milli Parkı (also not included), which are marks “T“ and “U” on the map above.

Late in the afternoon of January 24th, 2011 we left Diyarbakır intending to sleep somewhere near Nemrut Dağı National Park, maybe in Kâhta, but we had no indication of where to lodge. Ahmed had advised us to head to the town of Siverek, where there was a ferryboat service to cross the Atatürk Dam’s lake. We arrived to the ferryboat’s pier about one hour before the last boat of the day. While waiting, we carried out our usual site survey and then meddled ourselves in a group of locals, confident of arousing their curiosity on us. After a few minutes, one of them asked us something in Turkish, and we promptly replied that we couldn’t speak Turkish, only English. The Turks are commonly able to ask “Where are you from?” in English. When we answered “Brazil”, they noisily began to list the names of all the Brazilian soccer players that they knew, many of them playing in Turkish teams. We then presented ourselves telling our names. One of these guys, Süleyman, was particularly interested in talking with us. As he didn’t speak English, our conversation depended on my sparse vocabulary of Turkish and on my Langenscheidt pocket dictionary. Turkish grammar is very different and the words are formed with many different suffixes. As I couldn’t make sentences, I just chose some keywords hoping Süleyman could connect them properly into the idea I wanted to pass. That way I could ask him if he knew any hotel near Nemrut Park where we could stay for the night. After a brief thinking, looking at my map, he wrote down in Turkish what I translated into English as “This night you are my guests”. Surprised, I asked him if he had beds available at home. He said “Many”. I asked Rita what she thought about it, and we decided to accept the offer. We then agreed to follow him on his Renault Kangoo after we went ashore on the other side of the lake. After some kilometers on the D-360 (the main road), running as fast as 140 km/h, we entered some very narrow roads. After some 20 minutes, Süleyman pulled over his car, stopped the engine, turned off the lights , got out of the car, signalled us to wait and disappeared in the dark. We got frightened, but after a brief deliberation, we decided to wait. Two minutes later he came back, entered the car and went on his way. About another 20 minutes later, at the third village that we had crossed, he finally signalled that we had arrived. We parked our cars and in a moment we were in front of his one-room house taking our shoes off. Inside, his family and relatives waited for us with curiosity. The house had in fact other dependencies, but they didn’t appear to interconnect. The bathroom, in which I saw no shower, was a small and clumsy construction with a squat toilet inside. The only sink was out, next to another construction which I supposed to be the kitchen (its door was closed) . The pictures of the present slideshow were taken from the moment we arrived at the Siverek Feribot İskelesi to the moment we arrived in Nemrut Dağı Milli Parkı, at the end of the morning of January 25th, 2011.

While waiting for the ferryboat, Mr. Mehmet and his son invited us in to their home-grocery to escape from the cold out there (about 3ºC).

I was completely delighted by their heating system... It was so comfortably warm in there...

Mr. Mehmet offered us some tea. While waiting, Rita was finally able to warm her hands a little.

Before drinking my tea, I had to take a picture of this equipment. By opening or closing the kerosene tap, Mr. Mehmet could easily adjust its heating capacity.

Mr. Mehmet owns an inn nearby and wanted us to stay for the night, but we politely refused.

This 12-year-old boy runs a sandwich shop all by himself.

Süleyman and his brother-in-law Hassari.

Rita with Emrah and Hazal, Süleyman’s mother-in-law and sister-in-law.

Rita prefers to speak ‘gesturish’. The women do their best to understand.

Brothers Deniz (12) and Berfin (1).

Brothers Bey Han (13), Deniz and Berfin.

The Boyraz brothers.

A view of Süleyman’s living room. Literally, the room where they live.

Deniz and Berfin.

In a few minutes, Rita and little Berfin became close friends.

Süleyman’s youngest had had his first birthday a few days before.

Süleyman wears traditional Kurdish trousers.

We used my pocket Langenscheidt and Deniz’ school dictionary to communicate.

Süleyman seeks a word in Turkish to show me its meaning in English. Efficient communication...

Berfin stares at me with some awe. I am too strange for him.

Rita plays with Berfin.

Rita draws on her hands to play with Berfin.

Berfin is very happy playing with Rita.

Deniz knew only a few words in English. But he was very diligent in easing our communication, using the dictionary all the time.

Hülya, Süleyman’s wife, comes with dinner for him and us: Fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, olives, dried yoghurt, sausage omelet, a delicious puree of potatoes and tomato sauce and home-made pita

bread (kind of).

Berfin is very fond of olives.

Pause for picture!!!The drink is, as usual, hot tea. I would pay high for a coke, if there was how.

Sitting for hours on the floor makes my spine hurt a little.

Berfin tries to use the fork to stick the olives.

Berfin wakes up in the next morning.

Berfin wakes up in the next morning.

Rita wakes up. We slept like babies. The high-quality cotton bed dressing was clean and pleasant-smelling.

A view of the living-room in the morning. Its only door opens to the “street”.

Would you guess that Berfin is a little Kurdish boy?

The stand that supports the TV set and holds a few books is the only piece of furniture in the living-room.

This is the view one gets when exiting the living-room.It was not before the daylight that I fully understood where we were.

I stepped out in the early morning cold to go to the bathroom and take pictures.

Tobacco leaves dry out in the cold-and-dry weather.

A house in Pınaryayla Köyu. Most of them have satellite dishes.

Deniz came to call me to a visit to the school. The way goes near the roof of a house.

A view of Deniz’ school, with Atatürk’s face painted on the wall.

Another view of the school. The car belongs to a teacher. The “02” on its plate stands for Adıyaman Province.

We had bread and tea for breakfast. I update my contacts in my cell phone.

Süleyman and me exchange personal data.

Berfin.

Berfin.

Cheerful laughter...

This is where Süleyman chops the tobacco (tütün in Turkish) that his family has previously grown, harvested, and put to dry. He then packs the tobacco, loads his Kangoo and sets out to sell it in

Adıyaman and Diyarbakır.

Dried tobacco leaves ready for chopping.

A view of Pınaryayla with the mosque’s minaret.

One of the many stone houses in Pınaryayla. The mule is commonly used for moving things. People walk.

A view of Pınaryayla. Mean elevation at this part of Turkey is 1,000 meters.

At least in winter, it is hard to believe that this land can yield any crop.

We are heading northeast to Nemrut Daği, despite warnings about the cold and the heavy snow.

The road winds through montains and tobacco fields.

Rita insists to take pictures on the move... Not the best ones, but still depicting the beauty of the land.

The way from Pınaryayla to Nemrut Dağı Milli Parkı in Adıyaman Province.

The way from Pınaryayla to Nemrut Dağı Milli Parkı in Adıyaman Province.

The way from Pınaryayla to Nemrut Dağı Milli Parkı in Adıyaman Province.

Ok, let us wait till the sheeps cross the road...

Look! Down there you can see a river bed... But where is the water?

Ok, now we see a narrow stream flowing over this large bed. Would it be the Euphrates? No it is just one of its affluents discharging in the lake of Atatürk Dam... Later I discovered it to be Cendere Çayı

(Cendere Creek).

Look at this! A Roman bridge! Yes, it is the Severan Bridge (or Cendere Köprüsü, in Turkish), it is 1,700 years old, and quite possibly the second largest extant arch bridge built by the Romans,

according to the Wikipedia.

A view of Cendere Çayı (Cendere Creek). Why the river bed is so large?

This is the new bridge, right down river from Cendere Bridge. Up to some years ago, the 1,700-year-old bridge held all the road traffic (which is not that much, in fact).

It doesn’t seem but it is really cold here. The car’s thermometer shows 2ºC.

A closer view of Cendere Creek. Its waters are really clear.

Cendere Creek and surrounding mountains.

Cendere Creek and surrounding mountains.

The landscape is dry, stony , empty and vast.You feel yourself at the end of the world, but in fact it is a land full of history.

Let me clean the camera lens...

Another view of the Cendere Bridge. I thought that one of the columns at the eastern side had probably collapsed somewhere in the past, but later I learned that it was destroyed . Wikipedia will

tell you more about this.

The fields can get green if irrigated.

Rita likes to depict me in my joy.

We have just entered Nemrut Dağı Millî Parkı. But the monuments we want to see are high up in the mountains.

Beautiful landscape, isn’t it?

Hey, look at that rock... Is there a castle or a fortress built upon it?

I zoom on the summit to make myself certain. Yes, it seems to be an old castle.

Let’s get closer... Interesting, there is a coloured village nearby...I am uncomfortable because I know nothing about what I see.

Yeni Kale? That means “new castle”. It is “new” because what we see today is a reshape made by the Mamluks 700 years ago, and this is quite recent history for Turkey’s standards. The village is

Kocahişar, also known as Eski Kâhta.

Yeni Kale, a piece of recently plowed land and snow capped mountains behind.

One more picture of Yeni Kale and the mountains behind, this one made by Rita.

What are these holes in the mountain? I guess they are Lycian tombs, but I don’t know.

This man carries this load up to a village 3 km further and about 400 m higher. I wonder what is the load for.

We reach the first section of the park. It is windy and cold. Very cold.

We reach our first tomb, carved in the mountain, with inscriptions in greek and this marvelous view. Our story in Nemrut Daği is about to begin... But this will be another slideshow.

I dedicate this slideshow to the family of Süleyman Boyraz, my friend in Pinaryayla Köyu, Turkey. Our differences and even the language barrier we faced ended up fomenting a kind, friendly and respectful cross-cultural relationship, based in mutual curiosity. Three months after my arrival in Rio, precisely on April 24th, a Sunday, my phone rang and woke me up early in the morning. At the other side of the line, a woman asked me in English if I was Miguel Bichara. Thereafter she said she was calling by demand of a certain Süleyman, in Turkey, who wanted to say hello and thank me for having sent to him so many pictures of his family and of our gathering at his house. I was delighted. I asked her to tell him that, at his house, with his family, I had lived one of the most unforgetable experiences of my life, and that I would be grateful to him forever. When I thought it was time to hang up the phone, the woman said: - “Wait a moment! Mr. Süleyman would like to hear your voice... Can I pass the phone to -” him?” - “Of course”, I replied, and in a moment I heard Süleyman’s voice: - “Miguel?” - “Süleyman?! İyi akşamlar! Teşekkür ederim! Ben seni severim!”, I said, spending all the - “stock of expressions in Turkish that I could remember.He laughed and said: - “Hiç iyi akşamlar, ama Günaydın! Gün-ay-dın! Gün-ay-dın!” - “Günaydın, Süleyman! Günaydın! Ok! Ok! Bye-Bye!” - “Bye-bye, Miguel!”