Cappadocia: A Turkish delight

by Nosizwe Sadiki (South Africa)

I didn't expect to find Turkey

I was in the taxi on the way to Cappadocia, a black girl traveling alone into unfamiliar territory. I was nervous, I wasn’t sure what I would be greeted with when I got to this tiny town that is famous for the postcard pictures I’d lusted over for years – you know those pictures, the ones with the dreamy blue skies dotted with colourful hot air balloons floating over a history rich landscape. After driving in darkness for what felt like a life time we turned the bend and I was floored by bright lights that disrupted the solid blanket of darkness. I was here, I’d made it, I was finally going to live out my dream. We drove into the town and the streets were bustling. I looked at the time, it was 10:30pm yet there were dozens of people zigzagging the oddly designed streets, walking in and out of the shops and restaurants. I was surprised... no actually I was confused, I’d expected to see tumble weed rolling across the pavement, yet I could compare the energy in the air to what I imagine New York feels like by night. The taxi wound up the narrow, cobbled streets. There were points where I thought the driver would tell me this is his stop, I’ll have to walk the rest of the way because the car won’t fit through the tight passage, but we made it, he dropped me off right in front of my home for the next 3 days, this interesting cave hotel I’d read only good things about. The manager was delightful, very chatty and friendly but I was too tired to entertain a conversation, so I memorized the WiFi password and quickly retreated to my room. I was woken up by the crow of a rooster, something I definitely had not expected to hear. I only vaguely remembered driving past a chicken coop. I got ready for my adventure ahead – a jam-packed tour to visit some of the local attractions like the Derinkuyu Underground City, Ihlara Valley hike and the Selime Monastery. I asked the manager how to get to the meeting point and made my way. While I was walking in the blistering heat, I was painfully aware that no-one I walked past looked like me... it made me a little apprehensive. I’d gotten a few stares in Istanbul but it wasn’t so bad because I was with a friend and I walked past a lot of other black travelers but in Cappadocia I was one in three (I counted). I pulled my shoulders back, held my head high and walked down the cobbled streets with determination and sweat on my brows ready to shoot cold stares at anyone that dared me. When I received no such reaction I started to relax and exhaled a little, turns out that to the locals I was just another tourist, any looks I got were more out of curiosity, I was even thrown a few smiles. I could finally let down my defenses. Ok... this was different... most of the time as a black traveler (especially a young female) people look at you and wonder how you could afford to be there on the same holiday as them and that’s what I get in cosmopolitan places where you’d think there’d be used to it by now. But here I was in this tucked away town that isn’t usually at the top of anyone’s bucket list and I felt comfortable, almost welcomed. As I visited different attractions I began to learn more about this small, history rich town. And I understood why I felt comfortable and the locals were welcoming. Cappadocia has had its fair share of discrimination and prejudice in the past. There’s a kinship that you develop with people that have had similar experiences to you, but what really amazed me was the ability to build this tie with people who live 10 761,2 km, look nothing like you, speak a different language and live differently to you... now that, I did not expect to find and what a delight.