Yesterday it was easy to mini-bus from Deyarbakir to Batman. At Batman a fellow passenger directed me to the hotel of my intent. Then immediately after checking in I crossed the street and caught another mini-bus for the small town and ruins at Hasankeyf.
Oh, what a place it is! I felt finally in my element. The scenery is somewhat remeniscent of Central Oregon. But then, much of Turkey reminds me of my home state of Oregon. But Oregon on steroids.
Upon arriving I immediately walked through the shop area, found a narrow canyon and began to walk into it. An anciently inhabited area, it was a well worn path, narrow and deep as it is. Nevertheless, it didn't take long to get beyond the close-in area that most visitors settle for, and there are a few domestic animal pens in the rock recesses.
I was looking for a way to climb out of the canyon and get to the heights above. This is always a trick. As you go up, higher in the canyon, the ridges on the side are also gaining in altitude. I was leery of not trying to climb up at someplace that I could not climb back down should I get deadended. I have enough experience to know that it is easier to climb up than down. (I go to places that should something happen, nobody would know where to find me, much less, here in Turkey, know to look. I remind myself of that American guy who had to cut off his own hand to get out of a--literal--pinch).
I finally did find such a way to the top of the ridge, which itself did come to an end high above a roadway winding yet higher up into an opposing mountain area. Then I walked down the ridge, back toward the town.
What a view! Near, across a gorge to the left, were the cave and castle ruins. And across the Tigris River a long ridge of high hills (which I want to climb up to tomorrow). The wide slope along those hills was certainly the area which Xenophon and the Ten Thousand had passed on their retreat from Mesopotamia, and the area of which I had just read about a day or two before.
Well, actually I don't know that. I guess I'm wanting to imagine that. I have a modern map of Turkey, and a small map in the book, The Anabasis. The book, of course has a crude map, and using classical names. It's at times like this that I wish there was a concordance pairing the classical names with the modern. Perhaps there is, and I don't know of it. I am a dilettante, after all. Actually, they, the ten thousand, probably didn't march this way. Here the river flows west to east (I think). Oh, well.
Back to the ridge. I followed it down toward town. And it came to an abrupt end. A precipitous end! I think it might have even been a humanly cut chasm, so square were the sides. In any case, I had to go back and find another way down, actually an easier way up too. I had missed it.
I toured the castle area for a while. In a niche I saw what I called the Original Rototiller. It was the late afternoon of a Sunday. The town had been thronged with Turkish tourists--families, school kids of high school and college age. Seemingly, I was the only foreigner about. Probably not, but there weren't many. While wandering the castle ruins--many underground caves and such--I thought that this place made Cappadoccia seem effete.
Down from the castle I went to one of the Tigris River riverside restaurants for a fish dinner. Very nice.
Next I checked out the accommodations in the town's "motel." Pretty basic: a room with a bed (three, actually) and a shared shower and a la turca toilet. A view over the river, and the sound of the water.
It was getting late, so I needed to head back to Batman. I walked up into the non-tourist part of town on the main highway, looking for the mini-bus stop. A man took me on up town and indicated a place to stand. But it didn't take long for me to feel antsy there. The sun was going down and I just wasn't sure about that location.
I decided to walk back down, cross the bridge, and at least try hitchhiking until a mini-bus might come. At least once across the bridge I would have a chance of hitching with any Turkish tourists or weekenders returning to Batman, so I thought.
I was about 30 yards from the far end of the bridge when the first vehicle approached. I stuck out my thumb. He pulled up at the end of the bridge! Just like that. It was a lawyer, his wife and very small son. We couldn't have a conversation since my Turkish is just not that complete. People hear my few words, then run on with a vocabulary I have no notion of. But I did hear that he was a lawyer. And they did learn that I was not married--though twice divorced. The rest of the way he played Kurdish music, and dropped me off right at the door of my hotel. I actually prefer Kurdish music to most of the popular Turkish stuff.
The room I had been given was on the third floor in front. On the highway out of town, with a gas station across the way, and lights from a rail yard. I asked the desk clerk for a room on the backside of the hotel. He moved me to that side, but two floors down. Right over the bar/night club where loud, idiotic music was thumping away. Some joke.
While that music was distracting from classical music I was able to call up on my laptop's iTunes channel, it did subside by the time I was ready to pack it in. And if it did continue, with earplugs I was bothered of sleep not a bit.
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