grey marble

September 20, 2004


Kars to Dogubeyazit

The rain abated as soon as we finished lunch. Back at the hotel we asked about buses to Igdir. We were en route to Dogubeyazit, but there was no direct service. The manager made some phone calls and told us the last bus was leaving at 3pm. It was 2:57. They told us that after leaving the station, the bus was still to make its rounds through the city and we could still catch it on the outskirts of town by the sugar factory. A valet rushed us to a nearby taxi stand where he communicated our urgency to the driver. He turned on the meter and stepped on it.

We stood on either side of the road. A drizzle had started up. We were skeptical about the bus so we flagged down every passing vehicle. A taxi offered to drive us for $100US. A truck offered to give us a lift. Finally, at 3:25 the bus arrived. The passengers laughed at our predicament. We settled into the back seat and shared the ipod.

In Igdir a boy directed us (incorrectly) to the dolmus stand for buses to Dogubeyazit. A van finally gave us a lift to where it stood, beside the town mosque. The town was small, and walking from one end to another wouldn't have taken very long. We waited for critical mass. The driver smoked a cigarette while his passengers waited around the lot. I bought snacks from a nearby store. The sun began to set, and a man shuttered the small office and went home. Ed and I talked about our travel plans and I stepped into the van to check the guidebook. Suddenly there was a flurry of activity as the driver collected fares and people clambored aboard. We left Igdir as night fell.

Mt. Ararat loomed off to our left as we drove the darkened streets. Near Dogubeyazit the van was halted at a checkpoint. We waited as they checked our I.D.'s. Ed told me a story about his London training sessions with respect to checkpoints that ended with one journalist making a critical mistake during simulations.

We checked into a hotel on a darkened street. Walking back to the main street we searched for dinner, finding a pide place and a patisserie. In the main square a crowd had collected. A screen had been set up and a film was being projected from a VCD player. It was set in Europe during a war, but we were unable to decipher much more. We caught the last few minutes before they switched to a promotional film about the area. After that it was over. We ate dinner and then dessert and went home.

The next morning we took a cab to the Ishak Pasha Palace, an 18th century mosque/palace perched on a hill overlooking the city. The Kurdish cab driver talked about the relations between the Turks and Kurds and how it had relaxed somewhat in recent years. He talked about the Armenian situation and his grandfather's stories about the war.

When we reached the palace, we tried the doors. It was locked. The driver moaned. "I forgot. Closed on Mondays." He wasn't the only one as various cars came and went and Turkish families rattled the chain securing the entrance. We looked for a caretaker with a key to bribe, but there were none. We climbed a nearby hill to look down into the palace and cursed our luck. We then toured the nearby mosque and the tomb of Kurdish writer Ahmedi Hani before heading back to town. Posted by eku at September 20, 2004 12:56 PM
Search


Archives
Recent Entries
Links