Bearing the imprint of time

We are still not getting very far, very fast. Today we are back in Güzelyurt visiting Monastery Valley, and as we head down into it we are enchanted by how parts of this place look as though it has stood here for centuries. Monastery Valley is overlooked by a small domed church, now a mosque, reputedly built for St Gregory of Nazianzus in the early 4th cent AD at a time when being a Christian was no longer a crime. He was a theologian and a scholar whose writings were among those that influenced the split to Orthodoxy. During his lifetime, wherever he was stationed, people flocked to hear him preach.

A monastery was set up here to train young novitiates and the near vertical rocks on all sides of this pretty and ancient valley are riddled with cave dwellings, chapels, and churches that have grown up through the ages. Too many to count. Pilgrims trekked from afar to visit. Then, and now. Monastery Valley follows a stream, edged with willows, and there is a tree, probably near a sacred spring, bearing ribboned votive offerings and pledges to the gods.

The valley is dotted with subsiding holes that indicate that there is an underground city, lost and forgotten, beneath our feet. There are hundreds of these all over Cappadocia, but just a small number opened at the moment. Many have still to be found. On some flat sections in the valley there are fresh plots of vegetable gardens, attached to leaning rock dwellings, that are sometimes crumbling, sometimes made stable, still inhabited.

One colourful group of buildings stand out on high: terraced houses built by the Greeks who lived here before the population exchange. The Greeks were master stone masons and carved the rock material so plentiful in this valley into beautiful homes, using traditional methods and built them to last.

We became absorbed by the tale of St Gregory so tracked him further afield driving over a treacherous little mountain road to yet another peaceful and picturesque valley, south of a village called Sivrihisar, high on fragile rock that looked as if it might erupt any day.

Here we found what is locally called, the Red Church, with its charming central dome on four pillars, and in near perfect proportions for a small country church. It is one of the oldest Christian churches in Cappadocia, and folk lore has it that St Gregory spent his last days here, preaching, and was buried in a field not far from here. And well he may. Here, they say, pilgrims came from afar, before heading on towards Antioch, then Jerusalem, leaving behind a deeply imprinted footpath that can still be seen today, if you know where to look. We were hard pressed to differentiate it from the many possible mountain goat tracks also permanently etched into the hills.

We drag ourselves away and head deeper into rural Cappadocia with its vast high plains of grain stretching until another mountain range stops cultivation. Enroute to the underground cities of Derinkuyu and Kaymakli we are attracted by a sign that advertises the ‘biggest’ underground city, Gaziemir. We are becoming more successful at translating the translations on signs and information boards throughout Turkey. We take ‘biggest’ to mean ‘tallest’, and after hearing horror stories of some of the underground cities being really claustrophobic and difficult to negotiate, we quickly do a u-turn and head back to Gaziemir, hoping that this is the case. And we find a treasure trove of a little city, utterly unique in so many ways, and, not only that, we have it all to ourselves. If the tour buses have passed through here, it must have been earlier today, as now, late in the afternoon, we are the only ones visiting, and are free to explore it in peace.

We pay our fee and enter through a heavy, block stone passage way, still bedecked with a locking millstone which could be levered into place to block unwanted intruders. This doorway has been labelled a Hittite structure as it is similar to those found in Hatussus. So already a remarkable and unusual feature showing that this underground city goes way back. And, over time, it has likely been used for many different purposes: hiding from animals, seeking protection from inclement weather, and escaping religious persecution. The living spaces reveal the imprint of the passage of time.

The Hittite doorway leads into a central organising courtyard, from which the various buildings for different functions branch off accessed through different doorways, some of them decoratively carved. Through one of these we access a Byzantine church with an amazing dome of stones arched in air, almost. It looks as if it should fall. The church features large pillars, decoratively carved out of the rock. Close by there is a wine factory, with a large indentation which seems to be for treading the grapes and great clay amphorae buried into the ground, used for storing wine. Handy for Communions, no doubt. And grapes were everywhere around here by then, as they were planted further east, from here by Noah. One of the first jobs he undertook when the Ark was safely grounded. So, very sensible, Noah. And no doubt traders regularly brought seeds for vines from back east.

Tucked away in another corner on this level is a prison, accessed through a beautiful curved narrow corridor. The prison walls are heavily pitted. These might be the marks of the rock carving tools. Or, it might even be the scarring of prisoners who are counting the days. There is another church, and kitchens with great cavities carved out for tandir ovens, and a pantry for the storage of cereals, grains, oils and olives. There are many living spaces and even a hamam, well served no doubt by the large cistern and plumbing throughout on the various levels. There are ventilation shafts for ladder access, rainwater collection, and for security, way up we could see a shaft accessed by steps for the sentries who happened to be on lookout duty for the protection of the community.

And, surprisingly, there is a caravanserai. The only one yet found in an underground city. Deep in the bowels of the city they carved out a home, not only for the merchants passing through this place, but for their animals. All through Gaziemir are spaces wide enough for a camel to pass until it reaches its stables down a ramp into the next level. Everything they wanted was accessible in the city. Residents could live here for as long as they needed to withstand whatever force it was that might have sent them hiding here in the first place. But, at times of no threat, they likely spent most of their time outdoors.

Gaziemir reminded us of Catalhoyuk. When similar threats applied to the folk at Gaziemir, they used similar solutions to solve those problems, gradually introducing small changes. Life slowly evolving.

We only realise how slow we had been today when we catch up with some French cyclists. This family of four with two kids, ages 6 and 4, have cycled from France to see Turkey and are now spending 15 days in Cappadocia. They stayed at the same pansiyon where we camped last night. Their trip is set to take them all of six months, and they are now half way through. On two bicycles. With two kids. They left before us this morning , and while we have been on the move non-stop have clearly not gone very far as we caught up with them late in the afternoon when we were rushing to reach another camp for the night and they were not far from their next pansiyon. We may as well be on bikes at the pace we are going.