This is the 19th in a series of articles about a trip to the interesting country of Turkey

TURKEY UNDERGROUND

By Charles N. Stevens

During the night the temperature had dropped to about 10 degrees. The morning dawns clear and cold with the distinct smell of coal smoke in the air. I have a breakfast of green olives, cheese, “luncheon meat”, bread, apricot jam and tea.

At 9:30 we walk out in the biting air to board a van that will take us to see the sights around Nevsehir, an all-day tour. Before stepping on the van, I look up at a nearby hill covered with modest houses and mosques, the roofs and mosque domes all covered with snow and gleaming eerily in the angled sun of the morning. Coal smoke pours from hundreds of chimneys and stove pipes, each source adding to the layer of haze and smoke that lies trapped in a flat blanket over the city.

Once out of town we roll over an undulating road, a black ribbon cleared in the dazzling snow. We pass an abandoned city where the glassless windows give us a view through to other vacant buildings. It is like looking through a geometric skeleton. Some of the house fronts abut the soft tufa cliffs, many of the houses’ rooms being carved out of it into the cliff. We speed by rolling fields buried in snow with distant white peaks as a backdrop and by leafless poplars with the dark clots of old birds’ nests in them.

At Derinkuya we visit one of the many underground cities, all carved out of soft but sturdy tufa beneath the surface. Although the Hittites had hacked out many of the underground rooms and passageways, the early Christians expanded the network in the second and third centuries as hiding places from the Romans. Normally the Christians lived in villages on the surface, but if the Romans swept the area with raiding parties they would run underground, sealing off the passages with great stones.

We walk downstairs into the cold chambers which seem to be only a few degrees warmer than the freezing temperatures outside. The groove-like gouges of their metal instruments still mark the walls and ceilings. We follow each other through narrow tunnels and dank chambers to a former kitchen complete with a sunken fireplace, vent holes and a basin for washing dishes, all hewn out of the rock. We walk by baptismal immersion pools and a missionary school where students once sat on tufa benches and listened to their teachers. We admire a large, carved basin with two holes at the lower side, used for crushing grapes. The juice would pour through the two holes and be collected in a small cistern below where the juice would be allowed to ferment. We shuffle by niches in the passage and chamber walls that once held candles or icons. We only examine a small part of the underground city, eight floors of it still lying below us.

Once outside in the bright sunlight again, we pick out some postcards then purchase a handmade doll wearing a white dress with designs and sequins and two flower-like decorations on the shoulders. A kerchiefed woman sells all her dolls to our group. Two young men kick a soccer ball to each other on a snowy field.

We move on to “Pigeon Valley”, a valley with tufa walls and slim tufa projections that rise like thick fingers out of the valley floor. Since the 10th century people have carved  homes, storage chambers and even churches out of the cliffs and fingers. The snow lies thick and curved on them like white icing on strange conical pastry. Above the doors of many homes are rows of holes or niches used for raising pigeons. They used their egg shells for making lime for white washing and the egg itself for stabilizing the paint in frescoes. The pigeon guano served as fertilizer for the fields above. The shapes of the projections are so fantastic, so smooth and beautiful that they appear unreal. Beyond the valley stands a whole tufa mountain called the “castle” containing the doorways and carved fronts of many houses. I am totally taken by the way the thick, fresh snow lies on the curves of the cliffs and on the tufa chimneys. I find it interesting that some members of the tour shop at souvenir booths near the cliff’s edge before they ever look at the magic of “Pigeon Valley”.

Back in our van we rattle down the road to the outdoor museum at Goreme, another area of fantastic tufa spires and cliffs. We walk through the snow and ice, our boots and shoes crunching and squeaking at every step. We visit five tufa spires that contain 10th century churches inside. We admire their beauty and simplicity and the architectural knowledge that the people who chipped away the stone must have had. The inverted dome ceilings are all done in the Byzantine style. Some of the churches are decorated with simple Christian designs and paintings, but the last one we see, the largest of all, is adorned with paintings on the walls and the inverted bowls of the ceilings in the most vivid colors, especially red and blue. The complex frescoes depict the life of Jesus as well as Christian myths and history. Unfortunately the lower frescoes are marred, especially the eyes and faces, with deliberate destruction by Moslems who considered the frescoes the work of infidels. Ordinary graffiti by the ego-stroking mindless and the chipping away of pieces by Christian pilgrims who felt that the mementos would give them religious powers also added to the desecration. By this time my nose and feet ache with the cold.

Inside the Hanedan Restaurant, largely carved out of a tufa cliff in a nearby town, we sit at long tables waiting for lunch. An empty doner kebab machine, directing its heat at us, takes off some of the chill. Within the tufa walls the staff has arranged the tables with clean tablecloths and folded pink linen napkins curving out of wine glasses. Around the walls hang ancient artifacts—an old plow, a threshing device, an evil eye, a camel’s raiment, and many others. We begin our lunch with what we think is cream of broccoli soup with croutons. A Turkish omelette with tomatoes and peppers arrives next. Our main course is cubed meat and vegetables, a Turkish standard, with rice and small, thick potato chips. Dessert is diced oranges and apples with a dollop of whipped cream and a sprinkling of fleshy red pomegranate seeds.

MONTEREY PARK AUTHOR PUBLISHES 4th BOOK – Seeking More of the Sky: Growing Up in the 1930’s:

Charles “Norm” Stevens, a 49 year resident of Monterey Park has recently published his 4^th book: Seeking More of the Sky: Growing Up in the 1930’s. This is the story of a young boy growing up in Inglewood, California in the l930’s. This was a time during the depression when unemployment was affecting many and the banks were closed, while the clouds of war were gathering in Europe. But he was lucky enough to be raised in a loving family, the power of that love reflected throughout his stories.

Stevens is the author of three previous books about his experiences during WWII:

An Innocent at Polebrook: A Memoir of an 8th Air Force Bombardier (Story of his 34 bombing missions from his base at Polebrook, England over Germany and France)

The Innocent Cadet: Becoming A World War II Bombardier (A prequel to the first, telling of his training in the U.S. before going overseas into combat.)

Back from Combat: A WWII Bombardier Faces His Military Future from Combat: (This book details the time from when he returned from combat in England until the end of the war.)

He is known to the readers of The Citizen’s Voice as the author of Travel Log Articles including “Cruising the Rhine and Mosel”,” Best of the West”, “In Search of Snow” ,  “From Paris to Normandy on the Seine”, and “Exploring New York”.  He is retired, having taught for 32 years, primarily in the Montebello Unified School District.

Those interested in purchasing an autographed copy of any of his books, may contact the author at 323-721-8230 or  Normstevens24@gmail.com.