Doppleganger

Safranbolu

Distance: 37.7 km
Time elapsed: 2:36:00
Average speed: 15.1 km/ hr
Max speed: 41.7 km/ hr
Temp: 16 C
Weather: Cold cold! Early morning chill. Sun never burned off the blanket of low clouds.

Biking out of Istanbul, we crossed the Bosporus birdge one last time (during morning rush hour, yay!) and then 38 km along the highway. The city never really ends; sort of like Phoenix it just dwindles into suburb after suburb, an endless urban sprawl.

We ended up in a truck with two guys from Georgia, speaking Russian. They knew about as much Turkish as we do. After their split, we biked a few more km through a beautiful wide valley, as now we had entered a region full of steep green mountains. It was getting much colder, and luckily we left all of our jackets and thermals in Ankara...

Another truck picked us up, conveniently heading to the north, through Safranbolu, Gjirokaster's twin Ottoman style city. Well why not detour another night? The guys dropped us at the city center, where we promptly jumped into the nearest lokante to warm up and eat a late dinner (also lunch). Chris got some stuffed peppers and I ordered one of my favorites, fasuliye (bean soup), both accompanied by fresh fluffy pide and a salad. We began conversation with a guy whose English is good- actually he began conversation with us, that's usually the case- and he treated us to two bowls of milky rice pudding. I don't know what they call it here, in fact I never learned in Albania either because I avoid it like the plague, so I very discretely switched Chris' empty bowl with mine when no one was looking. This is how I get rid of a lot of things such as Fanta or Coke, anything meaty, and ayran (Turkish dhalle, or salty yogurt drink). It's a good system.


Welcome to Safranbolu

For the night we found a nearby old house, in the forgotten section of the neighborhood, that has been restored into a beautiful hotel. Waking the keeper, who let us in and gave a tour, we took a large, warm family room for 40 TYL since we were the only guests of the night. Actually since summer is over we're probably the only guests of the season.


Deja vu

The house has pretty much all the same Ottoman features as Gjiro's homes, minus the cistern, which was damaged and never rebuilt. Same lace on the windows and lattice woodwork. Carved ceilings. Chris oohed and ahwed at the good restoration quality, sticking his nose into every crevice.


Same same but different

In the morning we woke early to explore the lower town, where the larger cluster of restored homes are. A heavy fog hung low over the little valley, trapping in the cold air, and the windchill was excruciatingly painful on our faces and toes as we sailed downhill.


Looks familiar... have I slept here before?


Chilly morning, also a climate double

The first time walking through town everything was closed, still sleeping. Turks are not early birds like Albanians. We wandered around, climbed the hill to a museum, where a castle once stood, then around the outlying neighborhood. Back in the center we found a restored caravanserai, now a luxury hotel. I prefer our more authentic house hotel, but this would be a pretty amazing place to stay also. Not hard to imagine it full of foreign traders and camels!

Caravanserai time

Thick animal skins keep the cold air out

By now the town was stirring, so we stopped in a nearby lokante for some breakfast. This time I tried Ezogelin çorbasi, a red lentil mint soup, while Chris tested buğday çorbasi, a yogurty soup.


Fiddler in the Alley

Another spin around the now-lifelike cobbled streets, delaying our departure in hopes that the sun would burn off the cold cloud cover, then we biked up and out of the valley. Out of Safranbolu, passed the nearby industrial towns, and on the road to Ankara.

Fresh baked goodies to wake us up!

Entering the capitol city was çok zor (very difficult) because the highway traffic and somewhat confusing directions we were given by various pedestrians.


Metalware from Safran

Eventually we did arrive, albeit late, at Hamdi's house. We cooked him dinner and then went out together to sample the infamous Mado ice cream. The company runs a semi posh cafe version of the incredibly thick Maraş dondurma (get it? Ma+do) that is eaten with a fork and knife. We ordered cups of the softer, fresh variety, also delicious. It fueled us with plenty of energy to stay up and catch our 4 am train!


Ice cream in the dark (tastes just as good)