Cappadocia

Cappadocia has got to be one of the wierdest looking places I've ever been. Not that the architecture is unusual or outlandish. What conventional buildings there are are non descript. It's the natural landscape which is bizarre; bizarre in ways that attract and appeal. Blimey, the oddness is even enough to persuade you you're living on another planet, that it wasn't just a hope that an oxygen rich alternative to the world- ravaged blue Earth might be possible.

Until that is you spy, as you must, the plethora of tourist establishments. But I should be fair. It's not that bad or trashy or imposing. In fact the tourism seems to blend with the environment and the indigenous population's daily life in an harmonious, laid-backish way that reminds me of Northern Dharamsala, India. There the pervading serenity, happily blunting the sharp edge of mercantile desire, can be explained in terms of the abundant Buddhist vibes emanating from everything. Here, perhaps, the serenity can be attributed to the sheer energy of the surreality radiating from the enveloping 'honeycomb cliffs' and 'fairy chimneys' surrounding Goreme and the nearby valleys. The extra-terrestrial quality of the rock, in terms both of colour and formation, attracts the eye and sends the meditations it generates up into the ether. This effect is especially enhanced at dusk. Maybe it is for this reason that the silence hangs so densely here; perhaps what you see short circuits the ear in some way. Who knows. But it is odd, the layered quality of the quietness. Even when you hear clear, distinct, obvious noises the background, heavy, space-age hush is there.

Anyway I won't go overboard describing the ineffable formations since you can see them for yourselves here or at any other number of random sites. Some of the so called 'fairy chimneys' look distinctly phallic. This you're not meant to to comment on, especially since the area attracts Christian pilgrims to the churches and underground cities built by early Christians wanting to hide from Roman intolerance and Arab incursions. But it's perhaps why one valley, replete most fecundly with these thinner, taller pinnacles, has been called 'Love valley'.

(As an aside, the Abrahamic, fretful attitude towards sexuality is a fascinating preoccupation about which reams can be written, for, against or sideways. For now I shall only say I find it sad that just as the Heavens are sundered from the Earth, spirituality is sundered from sexuality. Even though I can perhaps understand why this has had to happen - given the potentially virulent triumphalism of reductive, earthbound earth worship, for example- that doesn't stop it being sad.)

The strange formations by the way are the result of volcanic explosions erupting thousands of years ago, depositing their lava in creative combinations then moulded in some manner. Beyond that my scientific aetiology loses grip.

On my first evening in Goreme it was pleasant and engaging to meet Justin, a vigorous yet balanced, liberal Georgetown university gradiate from 'DC' (so yet another crushing blow to the head of the 'all yanks are dumb and insensitive' school of philosophy). Since his field of study had been International Relations, it was great to talk to him about the Middle East and absorb what he knew. I was also surprised that he'd been able to travel from Jordan to Lebanon despite having an Israeli stamp in his passport. Why that was I don't know but it may bode well for my future if I want to explore such sensitive regions of the Earth.

Perhaps his most interesting comment was that it is now impossible in America not to be a radical. At first I thought he meant by radical extreme against Islamic fundamentalism, or whatever. But in fact, more subtly, he meant a radical in terms of not allowing for any middle ground with a political opponent - extreme and fixed in your own position (Republican, Democratic, Libertarian, Green or whatever).

If this is true, I'm thinking, and if it's also true that America is in terminal decline, perhaps this internal, unyielding, dialectical enmity may be revealed in the long run as a cause. Well, combined with its generally langourous, decadent consumerism.

Something of a spine, then, appears to be missing in America. But not a spine, I'm thinking, of the kind that an extreme, cultural triumphalism - a la Bush and Fukuyama for example- would feel supporting its endeavours. This is not true spine, it is apparent spine, strength born of declining desparation. The loud, impressive cry of a sinking man. True spine invigorates and bears confidently on its way the man, the woman, the culture that knows who and what he, she and it is and therefore doesn't feel the need to lather itself over with the pyrotechnics of radical posturing or beam itself out of reality by resource to the glitter and glamour of a merely simulated, media reality. True spine that is strong enough to be weak, confident enough not to know and curious enough to deride image and seek the real. Naturally, this is not only America's problem, but Justin was talking about his country (which he wants to leave) , so there we are.

I'd begun to think Kiwis and Aussies (the correct spelling) are not to be found in Central Western Turkey. But a whole load appeared yesterday, with whom I enjoyed a very pleasant organised tour around one of the biggest of the underground cities (Derinkuyu)* Inside I got really ill, after crouching and walking snugly through one of the tunnels that lead from the cemetery. Perhaps I was ill, or maybe I'm just very unfit, or maybe a ghost of one of the buried Christians had a go at me. Apart from that, it was a great place to see. The Christians, up to 2,000 of them, could live down here for up to 3 weeks, hiding from the Arabs. I was reminded of the Tin mines of Bolivia I saw in 1990 and of various caving trips I went on as a child.

After my second valley walk we went to an Onyx factory and for answering a question correctly (what does Cappadocia mean? Answer - Land of beautiful or well-bred horses) I was given a small egg he had just sculpted. Outside, domesticated pigeons were leaping in backwards sommersaults in the air and refusing to eat the grain that I'd bought them out oif my hand.

Possibly I shall live to regret not spending 110 euros on a hot air balloon ride over the area, a morning voyage many people say is the best thing about Turkey, let alone Cappadocia. But spoilsport as I am, I couldn't help thinking I could imagine what it looks like from a height. Or probably it was the bastard money talking. That said, I have availed myself of 5 new books at the excellent second hand bookshop in Goreme, now that I've finally finished 'Saturday' which I thought got really very good towards the end. Since I plan to head east (to Urfa) I cannot expect to find any more reading material for awhile. Knowing what it feels like, from India, to lug around a backpack full of books, I bowed to the irritating wisdom - both financial and physical- of selling 'Saturday', as well as a book about Greek culture, both my 2003 Eastern Europe and only recently bought 2006 Greece Lonely Planets. But now, with my new purchases, I'm glad to have more than Harry Potter parts 6 and 7 to look forward to.