the tourists

My parents have come to visit me before in foreign places.  Jersey, New York, Rome . . . I was their ultimate tour guide, planning everything down to even bathroom breaks and naps.  This time I didn't, and I didn't really care.  I had some ideas, but what I didn't know was whether I'd be able keep up with them - physically, emotionally or financially.

the best sight

A baby changes everything, and I'm glad for this.  Mornings are long and slow, evenings are early, and days in the most amazing of sights carries very little significance because the best sight in the world is this small creation in our arms.  It was a good self-check for all of us.

But it wasn't enough for my mother.  She's never been an either/or sort of person - you would never hear her say, I'd like to visit the Roman ruins or walk around the lake.  She's always been a both/and person: I would like to visit the Roman ruins, walk around the lake, go out to dinner AND scour eastern Turkey along the way - with me and my two month old in tow.  She came to see her grandson AND Turkey.

Ankara isn't nearly as exciting as Istanbul, but it is the capital city and where we live.  Modern, hilly, populated.  Spring was only just beginning so everything was brown.  They only rested for two days in Ankara before we took off out for Capadoccia.  It is an area three hours south of Ankara where a volcano had left the ground soft and porous.  It has a long history of cave dwellers, and most famously during the time of Christian persecution where whole cities were built underground.  The area's erosion is a thing of beautiful pinks and tans.  Hotels are built into the caves for the tourists' sakes and the area boasts wine, pottery, hand painted ceramics, and kilims - traditional Turkish carpets.

We had rented a car and my mom kept wanting a map.  I love maps too, but I'd kind of given up on the idea in Turkey.  I had several guidebooks that my mom was reading and she came across a note that you could find a map at a gas station but the roads lacked the detail we needed.   My husband's a geologist, so you'd think I'd have access to better maps of Turkey, but road signs and maps are hard to come by.  Tolga was away on business, and we were on our own.

We had a late start.  While Tolga's parents on travel days are up and ready in the wee hours of the morning, my parents kind of amble around.  I amble around.  And preparing for our first trip Teoman was a task in itself.  It was my first time traveling with him and it was hard not to pack EVERYTHING.  It was like a trial outting - we'd only be gone for two days, but as a new mom I felt stress when thinking about when, where and how I'd feed him, put him to sleep, change him, and so on.
I didn't really care about maps.
I cared about how long Teoman rode in his car seat.  (Is it bad for his back?  Will he starve, get stuffy, get too hot?)  He had rarely cried - two short cries the day he was born, on sad cry at his one month checkup for the shot, and once when I accidentally scratched his leg while change him - and I wasn't ready to have him start crying now because of tourism.

Teoman turned out to be an excellent traveller.  He slept all the while in the car seat, and it may even helped with his gas.  We stopped twice for me to feed him, but mostly cause I wanted to pull him out of the car seat and make sure his back wasn't permanently molded to the car seat.  When we arrived in Göreme, we hadn't booked a hotel and wondered around the small streets looking at the different hotels.  I wore Teoman in my carrier, and the weather had gone from the low 60s in Ankara, to the low 70s here in Capadoccia.  We finally settled on a hotel over our budget - set in a cave with a separate sitting room and fireplace.  I was determined to keep my parents in the budget frame, but when I saw English books, an armchair, and wood in the fireplace - I lost all resolve.

breakfast at the hotel with
overbearing Turkish mom

A young sweet woman was our receptionist and host.  Her mother kept taking Teoman and fussing over him.  By the next day, she actually made him cry with all her fussing.  We had a traditional Turkish dinner in the town and watched the sunset over the valley.  We reserved the following day for the museums.  The first was an open air museum.  Crowded  even in April.  We walked around slowly with the stroller, going in and out of the caves.  At one point, I waited at the bottom of the stairs for my parents and Teoman started crying - I walked him in the stroller, but it soon became clear he was just plain hungry.  I couldn't help feeling a bit of panic.  Where would I feed him?  In a cave?  But there were way too many curious tourists in every good and cranny.  In the bathroom?  In the car?  I didn't have the key...

overlooking the valley of Capadoccia

I finally just left the open-air museum, and sat under the shade of a tree near the dirt parking lot and nursed Teoman like a goat and her kid.

The next museum I didn't go in.  I waited out in a cool tea shop and made sure I had the car key.

"fairy chimney" cave hotel

Goreme Open Air Museum