It was clear from the start that this planet was like none other I had ever seen before. A vast landscape of moonstone and lava rocks, every dwelling was carved into the rocks that rose up from the ground like bizarre, conical stone teepees. As far as the eye could see, there were miles of these caves, nestled in valleys of red and black rock created by volcanic explosions five or ten million years ago.
It was early in the morning when our transport arrived, and the sky was just beginning to lighten in the East where the sun was starting to consider getting out of bed. I hadn't slept all night, (the regulations in this galaxy don't seem to prohibit smoking on transports, and I had chosen to eschew the express service, meaning we were perpetually stopping along the way to pick up other travelers), and was wondering if I should try to find some lodgings to get some sleep. Standing outside a local cantina, I was approached by a surly looking local, who enquired as to whether I would like to come inside for a moment and have some apple tea (a local specialty). I consented, hoping a warm drink would help me get my bearings. As I sat there, the man asked me how long I would be staying. "Just two days," I replied, "then on to [Alderaan] Istanbul." He recommended that I take a ride in an airship that morning, to enjoy the panoramic views of the area, something I had heard was very popular in this part of the world and was intending to do tomorrow. But he insisted: "You are already awake now, no sense in waking up early tomorrow too!" I thought this was a compelling argument, and anyway he could arrange for the airship pilot to come and pick me up from there in forty five minutes, so it seemed like a good idea. A couple glasses of apple tea later, I climbed into a People Mover full of other tourists and headed to a nearby field, where they were preparing our airships for a sunrise launch. 
The trip was not disappointing: seeing this planet from the air was breathtaking, and I was constantly awestruck by the incredible and implausible geological formations. Miles of cave dwellings, pigeon houses, towers of rock carved into deliberate looking shapes by hundreds of years of wind and water erosion. I have never seen anything like it. Certainly it is like nothing that exists on my own planet. I wondered if perhaps I had landed on a small moon on some undiscovered part of the universe.
Our convoy landed many miles away, and celebrated our safe and beautiful trip with some champagne and cookies (the breakfast of champions). I was then taken back to a small hotel nearby, a family owned inn with eight quaint rooms carved into the rock of one of those imposing stone towers that filled the landscape. 
But there was no time to sleep -- after a quick hot shower of thermal spring water, I was picked up and taken by landspeeder on a full day tour of this great planet. A vacationing American couple and I were taken by our tour guide, Mehmet, who was a local and had actually been born and raised in a small cave here, and told us all of the stories and secrets of the area. (For reference, this guy also later offered me $400 to have sex with him. Yeah. Ew. Way to go, Turkey.) We travelled around the valleys and canyons just staring out our window at the amazing
"fairy chimneys", these impossible looking rock formations that give this area of the world it's distinctive fame. It was beautiful, and so weird, so alien to everything that is familiar to me, it was hard to know how to react.The area was a hideout for persecuted Christians during the first centuries after Christ, and the mountains were full of labrynthine caverns that once housed hundreds of families, small churches devoted to St. Simon (of course), some even with their original wall paintings still preserved inside the cool, stone chambers. We walked through these old houses, (more like apartment complexes, really), to see how they stored and cooked their food, where they slept, and 
what life was like hiding from the advancing Roman armies. We toured a factory that specializes in the production of beautiful, handmade rugs, and I even got to try my hand at making a small piece of one. There were many opportunities to try the local food, like tomato mint soup and creamy rice pudding. Later in the day we visited a family that has been making porcelain and pottery in a small workshop for over four hundred years, and who then fairly aggressively tried to push us all into buying something to take home. (I had to explain very firmly that, as a backpacker, it really was impractical for me to buy something porcelain to carry around with me.) Later we came to the home of a kind of strange, old hermit, living out past the Dune Sea. It was a long trip in our landspeeder to the isolated area, and dangerous as well. On the way we frequently came across those most dangerous of enemies: sand people! But the banthas were no match for our landspeeders, and we sped past them to meet the old man living in this wilderness.
what life was like hiding from the advancing Roman armies. We toured a factory that specializes in the production of beautiful, handmade rugs, and I even got to try my hand at making a small piece of one. There were many opportunities to try the local food, like tomato mint soup and creamy rice pudding. Later in the day we visited a family that has been making porcelain and pottery in a small workshop for over four hundred years, and who then fairly aggressively tried to push us all into buying something to take home. (I had to explain very firmly that, as a backpacker, it really was impractical for me to buy something porcelain to carry around with me.) Later we came to the home of a kind of strange, old hermit, living out past the Dune Sea. It was a long trip in our landspeeder to the isolated area, and dangerous as well. On the way we frequently came across those most dangerous of enemies: sand people! But the banthas were no match for our landspeeders, and we sped past them to meet the old man living in this wilderness.At the end of the day I was obviously exhausted, having not slept in about 36 hours, but was totally excited at how I had spent this first full day on a new planet. The next day was another tour, although thankfully we had a different guide who did not solicit me for prositutional services. She took us on a two hour hike through the Red Valley, where we had the chance to climb into some of the "pigeon houses" that were carved out to provide a place for pigeons to leave their droppings, and for local farmers to come and collect it later to use as fertilizer. Then, the crown jewel of the trip, was a visit to the Underground City. During times of all-out seige of the Christians here, the entire community would retreat to this Underground City, a sort of Helms Deep of the Byzantine times, sometimes for months at a time. Again carved out of the soft volcanic stone that penetrates hundreds of meters down into the earth, this city contained eighteen floors of houses, passages and rooms. Archaeologists here estimate that 2,500 people could have lived there at once, along with hundreds of horses and other animals kept in the underground stables. We got to climb all through it, down winding stone staircases 
and through dark, narrow passageways into living rooms, bedrooms, kitchens and pantries that served hundreds of hiding refugees. It was really crazy, and felt like something out of a dream. There were even military defense mechanisms built into the complex: as you walk down spiral staircases, you notice that there are long, narrow holes carved into the side. Once you get to the end of the staircase, and look around the wall, you see that there is a large stone wheel on the other side, with a hole carved into the middle. If the city dwellers were being chased by invaders, they would run down the staircase, then quickly roll the stone wheel into the way so that the staircase was no longer passable. Using the small hole in the middle of the wheel, they would then shove spears and arrows at the invaders, killing them from the other side of the stone. Very Indiana Jones.
and through dark, narrow passageways into living rooms, bedrooms, kitchens and pantries that served hundreds of hiding refugees. It was really crazy, and felt like something out of a dream. There were even military defense mechanisms built into the complex: as you walk down spiral staircases, you notice that there are long, narrow holes carved into the side. Once you get to the end of the staircase, and look around the wall, you see that there is a large stone wheel on the other side, with a hole carved into the middle. If the city dwellers were being chased by invaders, they would run down the staircase, then quickly roll the stone wheel into the way so that the staircase was no longer passable. Using the small hole in the middle of the wheel, they would then shove spears and arrows at the invaders, killing them from the other side of the stone. Very Indiana Jones. So that was Capadoccia. A crazy, bizarre, dreamlike and otherworldly place that I couldn't possibly compare to anything else I've ever seen. I've never been to the Grand Canyon, and maybe that's pretty cool too, but I seriously doubt anything in the world, geophysically, is as cool as this. (It is also, for the record, where the first Star Wars was filmed.)
I think the concept of geological tourism is interesting though. Instead of coming to visit a place for its culture, or history, or because of its recreational activities, you come just to look at what God and nature have done to it over the course of thousands of years. Actually, this is a nice way to see the world, to just sit back and gape at the amazing things that exist with no help from anyone else.
From Capadoccia I took another long overnight bus to Istanbul. Actually, the overnight buses are not that bad. Certainly not as comfortable as an overnight train, because there are no beds, but the bus system in Turkey is something they take very seriously. All of them are clean, comfortable air-conditioned coaches with reclining seats, and, although people do occasionally light up when they need a nicotine fix (this problem gets worse and worse the farther East you go, both with the ubiquity of smokers and their lack of consideration for others), by and large the ride is very comfortable. With the right mix of music and sleep drugs, you can actually have a reasonable night on one of these.I did not, however, plan to have enough time in Istanbul to really explore it. We arrived at 6am, and after two hours of hassle trying to get into the city with a pair of Kiwis who were visiting for ANZAC Day, I wound up at a hostel that happily let me store my bags for a couple hours and go out and explore the city. But I needed to be at the airport at noon to catch my flight to Cairo, so that left me minimal time to visit just the top sights, take a quick picture, and then ramble down to the other areas of town. A lame way to be a tourist, and I didn't particularly enjoy it. But I was starting to get really sick of Turkey at this point, specifically, Turkish men. God. They are ridiculous. Just walking down the street, they will call out after you "What's your name?!" or "Wherru fromm?!", two questions that I am so freaking sick of right now I would be glad if no one ever asked me that again. I hate that they just start asking you those questions without any introduction or conversation at all. They just see you walking and yell at you. For a while I would be polite and stop and talk, but it became too much after a couple days in Antalya, because it's everyone. Dozens, hundreds of Turkish men, constantly yelling at you to stop and tell you their name and where you're from. And whether you do or not, as you walk away they will yell after you again, "You want my phone number?!" Most of them don't even speak English! For Pete's sake, you don't even speak my language, what kind of interaction do you expect to have with me?!
Oh. Right. That kind of interaction.
Gross. I hate them. I am so sick of it. At this point I mostly just ignore them, but sometimes it's really hard. If you sit down by yourself for one minute, a man will come and sit next to you and say "Wherru fromm?". So if I'm in a position where I must respond to this question, I just say, "Turkey." They then give me a very perplexed look, and are disarmed just long enough for me to quickly get up and walk away. If I must continue talking to them any longer, I just respond with the same word over and over again: "Turkey."
"Wherru fromm?"
"Turkey."
"No, really? What's your name?"
"Turkey."
"What?"
"Turkey."
"How long you be in [Antalya/Goreme/Istanbul]?"
"Turkey."
Sometimes I mix it up by adding different inflections to the world. "Tur-KEY!" or "Turkey?" or "Tuuuurrrrkey." They get fed up with it pretty quickly, laugh uncomfortably and then leave me alone. But I hate being hassled so much all the time. I hate that I can't sit alone somewhere and just have peace and quiet. They are like mosquitoes, constantly buzzing around you, mostly harmless but whiny, horrible, irritating and unfazed. You can swat at them as much as you want, but they will always return, usually in greater numbers. I actually can't wait to get back to a country where the men ignore you in favor of watching a football game. How nice would it be to go a whole day without being asked for random sex by a gross, sleazy Middle Eastern guy?
So three hours in Istanbul was enough. It was time to get out of Turkey, time to get something new. Besides, I had a lovely Starwood hotel waiting for me in Cairo, and after two nearly sleepless nights on a Turkish bus, I was ready for a Heavenly Bed.
To Egypt!
