Goodbye

At night at the train station café in Kadiköy, I mentally prepare for my odyssey by alternating between ordering tea and ayran while listening to the chatting group of men. In the coming days, I will be sitting on trains, buses, or minibuses daily. Kadiköy - Erzincan - Trabzon - Batumi - Mestia. Before I reach the hiking paradise of Georgia, I need to make several stops within 5 days. First the duty, then the pleasure.

It seems that animals are regularly fed on the grass behind me. A cat gnaws on leftover meat. A tame fox sneaks up anxiously wanting its share, but as the cat arches its back, the fox, three times its size, takes flight.
I make an anthropological observation: I notice that cats are attracted differently here than in Germany. Instead of a rather squeaky sound, cat lovers in Turkey make an 'Ssss' like a snake. Interesting.

The Eastern Express, scheduled for 1:15 AM, is 45 minutes late in Kadiköy and arrives in Erzincan over 2 1/2 hours late. The air conditioning in the compartment is so cold overnight that I put on a sweater and jacket, and completely shuts off in the morning, turning the train from a refrigerator to a sauna in seconds. I tell the next German complaining about the German railway what train travel in Turkey can mean. But I don't have any appointments and continue to drink my Turkish tea and ayran in the onboard restaurant.
Upon arriving in Erzincan, it's time for a haircut. Sides at zero. Besides drinking water from yogurt cups, another strange quirk in Turkey is that similar shops are always located in the same area. That means butcher shops line up next to butcher shops, bakeries next to bakeries, and phone case shops next to phone case shops. So I don’t have to look long since my hotel is in the barber district, and I walk into the first salon I find. The price is awkwardly quoted to me - in the northeast of Turkey, people speak even less English than in Ankara. The shop belongs to Mahmut, who has gathered a bunch of young apprentices around 16 years old, who constantly ask him for advice. As soon as a new customer takes a seat, a cluster of three to four hairdresser boys forms around them and watches their colleague cut. Curious and shy, they practice their English with me: 'What's your name?' or 'How old are you?' Using a translation app, they ask me if I like Erzincan, and I can honestly say: 'Evet! Yes, very much!' Despite communication difficulties, I am quite satisfied with my 8-Euro haircut. When I go to the hairdresser in Berlin or Leipzig, it’s usually the opposite.
Although there is a bus from Erzincan to Trabzon, I try hitchhiking. I once heard that it is supposed to be very easy in Turkey and that the Turks, being as hospitable as they are, like to pick up hitchhikers. After 30 minutes in the blazing sun, I give up. Perhaps I was standing in the wrong place or was just too impatient. At the next taxi stand, I let myself be taken to the bus station without getting anything accomplished..
I am now a modern cruise traveler and have booked a tour from Trabzon. The only way to get to the significant rock monastery of Sümele is through a guided tour or a rented car. Both are stressful in their own way. So I let myself be driven in a minibus through the Pontic Alps. If a minaret didn’t occasionally peek out from the needle forest, one could think they were in Bolzano.

After arriving at the monastery, I weave through selfies and Instagram girls with their boyfriends. For them, there is no pointless enjoying the view or simply gazing at the 1500-year-old Byzantine frescoes. Everything must conform to the photo sessions: finding backgrounds, posing, taking photos, critically checking the screen, repeat.

My motto, on the other hand, is photobombing whenever the opportunity arises. I style myself as a mass tourism guerrilla fighter. If I were a Christian icon, I would be Saint Maximus, patron saint of all photo bombers. What nonsense.

Next stop: Hamsiköy - rice pudding tasting with a view. An American-Korean girl is taking photos in panorama mode with her digital camera like machine-gun fire. Another woman holds her pudding bowl in front of the mountain scenery as if it were an offering to the gods and makes a video of it.

On the way back, we come to a sudden stop in front of a tunnel while the valley lies in fog outside. Two Arab women get out and start filming. Maybe they've never seen fog before?

I wonder if it was worth the money and the many stops to see the monastery. One was predictably rushed through the stops: 50 minutes at the monastery, 45 minutes for lunch, 30 minutes at a stalactite cave, 20 minutes for a picture stop, 15 minutes in the candy shop. Hardly any background information goes beyond a Wikipedia intro. But like an early Christian hermit, I practice calmness and gather my thoughts. I have plenty of opportunities to do so. After all, on such tours, one spends most of the time in the minibus. I look forward even more to Georgia and the opportunity to hike and see the sights on my own.

On the tour in Göreme, an American remarked, in response to Darryn's comment, that the small chapels were too crowded for him: 'That's the whole world, buddy!' That became our running gag on our two hikes in Cappadocia. Apparently, our American travel companion rarely moves outside of his comfort zone and knows only crowded hotspots. However, it can still be remote and deserted, at least that is what I hope for from Georgia.