The citadel rises atop one of Uçhisar’s tuff pinnacles, in Cappadocia’s highest region. We disappeared inside the darkened cone, climbed towards its peak by rock carved stairs, and were spat out a few metres below the summit, where our ascent continued along the cone’s exterior. Beneath us, the fawn folds in the earth extended for miles; erosion at its most artistic.
Damascus: Part I
Sharia ath-Thawra was a jumble of shining yellow taxis, fearlessly zipping between moving metal. Their drivers rested weary elbows on horns, hooting, blind to all but their destination. A pedestrian flyover was visible in the distance, beyond a mammoth neon Sony sign, about a ten minute walk away. But Iain and I had slept too late; we had things to see, a city to explore, and so stood, peering onto the street, waiting for a gap. A truck chugged along further down – at a safe speed, it seemed. We took the chance, darted across the road, and began a sprint as one of the faceless yellow vehicles sped toward us, its horn hooting profanities. A leap forward and we were out of its path, balancing on a white line. Cars swished behind and in front of us, displacing bulks of air that slapped you in the face; ‘idiot’ they screamed. I exhaled, stood jelly legged in between the two rows of speeding traffic, and clutched Iain’s hand in terrified futility.
Across the road, vegetables were laid out on pieces of sacking, spread over the bare tarmac. Women sat in front of a few shrivelled vegetables, headscarves hanging over their foreheads as they stared at me, blank. Hundreds of people manned a makeshift market place that curved along the pavements and led to a wider avenue of street sellers. Arranged before them, on tables or the street, were bundles of shoelaces, polyester socks, flimsy plastic toys or seed bars: a handful of meagre items formed their livelihood. Men squeezed lemon juice into yellowed glasses and water was doused onto tired cucumber slices, refreshing their chance of purchase. All around me, people stood or sat, hoping to make a sale, and a living. Continue reading Damascus: Part I>>
