Fred and Carol Moore are two of the finest representatives the United States could have sent to live in Turkey. Most Americans have never given Turkey a thought and few really know the important role Turkey plays in world affairs. A muslim-majority country which looks westward for its inspiration, a government modeled with an eye toward the way countries in the western world operate, and - very much like America - it is full of people who, early on, came from other places. See InformationConsequently as Fred and Carol trudged their way through the back roads and countryside of Turkey they gained a deep understanding of the people, the customs, and a huge respect for these wonderful people who, for 6,000 years, have taken care of enormous numbers of historical artifacts, documented the history of important peoples, and who are so justifiably proud of all they have accomplished. That said, Fred and Carol Moore stand out as our longest-serving military members who lived in Turkey not for a two year deployment, but for decades, remaining on after the military career to work as civilians in Turkey.

So we could not help but ask Fred and Carol for "MORE from the MOORES!" We wanted "Fred-the-essayist" to do some backward glances so we could get an idea of just what they took away from their experiences in the country, perhaps some advice to travelers, and more of what so many of us readers revere so deeply. Our suggestion is to check back on this page frequently as new material is being added to the bottom of the page whenever Fred and Carol have the time to write a bit.

Back In Augusta, GA, and Looking Back at Turkey

Fred and Carol Moore are Back Home

© 2011 by Author

Let’s talk Turkey, the country that is, not the bird!

I was active duty Air Force and in 1981 I got the orders assigning me to Turkey. When the call came I was initially devastated, but quickly realized – orders are orders. I had no inclination what to expect, I had visions of living in a tent or primitive encampment. How much does the average American really know about Turkey? Mostly nothing, except maybe some biased or seriously skewed news commentators’ views: CNN, FOX, or whichever.

I was slightly involved at the time of the call with a very fascinating lady; when I indicated my predicament to her she was quite animated over it. She said it would be a wonderful adventure; I was not very enthusiastic personally. Anyway, that call precipitated our getting married.

When there was free time, we began to investigate the country of Turkey and found very little to give us any real idea of the nature of things. The news at the time was all bad: the country had just recently suffered a military coup and it was under martial law. As I say, news was not glowing, but after some serious digging we found ourselves introduced to a couple who had spent time living in Turkey,Warren and Barbara Walker. He was a Fulbright Scholar there in the 1960s. We made plans to sit down with this wonderful couple and to “talk Turkey.” They had nothing but praise for the country and the Turkish people most especially. Barbara had translated numerous Turkish fairytales into English and gave us several books. Wonderful stories, I’ve read and re-read them.

Our initial introduction to the real country, one on one, occurred when we landed on our Pan Am flight in Istanbul in July 1982. We were deplaned on the apron and bused to a warehouse, not a terminal, everything was under construction. We were herded into the building and became a small part of a massive crowd of passengers going in all directions.

Istanbul ,as you may know, is a major transfer point to all parts of the Middle East. We were carefully threaded through customs and taken to our domestic flight destined for Ankara, the Capital city. That leg of the trip was on Turkish Airlines, and aboard the flight we were offered a glass of juice and a piece of pound cake, both very Turkish. This was after 12 or 14 hours of travel and I still very vividly remember that glass of juice; it was cherry and it was great! I can’t say that much about the cake.

In Ankara, we had been met by our American military sponsors and were taken to the transient hotel used by the military. We were registered and shown to a very large cluster of rooms on the four or fifth floor of the building. We were now, officially, IN Turkey.

The next day, Carol wanted to venture out but I was still quite reticent about my new ‘home’. This was a major city of several million people and we were housed on this very busy intersection with businesses of every kind around us. The Turkish staff in the building was extremely friendly and gracious hosts.

I’m no longer completely clear on the immediate transition (age does that) but the next morning Carol wanted to get out and see the city around us. I must admit, I saw no goats or tents as we walked around that morning. The shops all looked as normal - unusual maybe, but normal as anything in our cities. The cars on the street were different as they were Turkish and European except for the dolmus (DOLE-moosh ). A dolmus is different in Turkey from taxi cabs. With Taxis it is one price for the cost of the ride regardless of the number of passenters. In a dolmus, each passenger pays a set fee based on the number of seats: sedan, van, etc. These dolmuses were American cars, Chevrolet & Dodge mostly, 1950s era models) the word dolmus means to stuff, and they were generally stuffed full of riders; a passenger paid pennies to ride the dolmus. Once adjusted to the city, though, we rode them often – my favorite was a 1957 Chevy station wagon that had been converted to three rows of seats for more passengers.

The first thing that drew us into our deep appreciation of the local surroundings was food! Tthere is simply no way to describe Turkish food but to say: it’s without equal! We miss many things about the country after living in and out of Turkey for 14 years but the food for me is ‘way toward the top. No matter where we stopped to eat, small café or large restaurant we were always treated as royalty and later in our experiences – Family.

Once we became acclimated to the environment and city encompassing Ankara we began walking for miles (or kilometers) up and down the streets. Ankara sits in the central plains of Turkey, but it is a city that reminds one of San Francisco; very little of it rests on level ground.

Our first task as new arrivals was to find a place to live. The US Military had no “base facilities” for married couples and only a few dorms for the single people, so we began viewing apartments available for rent (flats in the local vernacular). This was especially eye popping as in the states we are used to seeing resident-ready facilities. Not so in Turkey. Rentals here are simply empty spaces; no appliances, no light fixtures, no curtains and native bathrooms. It is European custom in many countries that when one moves they take all their belongings, which may include the stove, refrigerator, washer/dryer and other things which are left behind (and are part of a selling or renting price) in the U.S.

Our first flat was a penthouse in a five story building, a very small 2 bedroom unit, that needed a great deal of work. The building had no elevator and our landlord lived just below us. Carol insisted on painting, and it really did need it. So right off, we went to buy light fixtures and drapes.

There were no phones, some Turks we had spoken with told us they had been on waiting lists for years! This little matter helped us establish our half hour rule. If we had set an appointment and the other party did not show within 30 minutes we went about on our own. This served us well for the whole time we lived in Turkey on our first stay.

Keep in mind this was 30 years ago and a great deal has evolved since then; our recent years in Turkey had shown great leaps in both communications and transportation. Let’s get back to the walking.

We are explorers. We wanted to see our surroundings and walking made that most convenient. That is how we discovered little cafes for wonderful meals, pasta shops for tea, coffee and pastry, green grocers for produce and little shops for ‘supermarket’ shopping. All of these were in our immediate neighborhood and easily accessible. We quickly became a ‘native couple’ and were extremely comfortable being a part of our little micro village.

Hillsides in Ankara can be steep and stairways ascending and descending were everywhere, thousands of steps. Carol found a hairdresser she was very pleased with and I found a barber. We ate out a great deal and never went to the same place more than once a month unless we simply chose to. Food was cheap, service was first rate and the food was awesome. Our flat was half way up a hillside, so when we left for a walk it was either down the hill or up and steps were inevitable in either direction. The routes both up and down were numerous and we rarely planned to go one way or the other, we simply left the flat and let circumstances dictate our day.

If we didn’t wish to walk great distances, we would catch a dolmus. Remember this is a shared ride, like a taxi but very inexpensive and their routes were set. Public transportation in the city and even throughout the country was readily available and pretty reasonable in cost. In the city you had the dolmus routes, city (red) bus routes and commercial (blue). The taxi that would take you to your destination. The cost of each of these got more progressive from dolmus to taxi. The dolmus took small coins; the city bus only paper tickets you bought in tiny little pads, the commercial bus coins and the taxi cash. The dolmus across town (say a 45 minute walk) was like a nickel while the city bus might be ten cents. The taxi was maybe a dollar.

One thing I always found curious was the taxi; as the city was very hilly, at the top of most streets the taxi would shut off the engine and coast to the bottom, saving petrol. As you might imagine, control of the taxi was less than optimal but we never once experienced any challenges. The city bus was another story, they were generally filled to overflowing. Many times we would mount a bus and personal space was nonexistent; you would be so closely crammed into one that people getting off had some challenges. Nobody seemed to mind though and we simply learned to be a part of it. In our initial acclimation we simply kept in mind we were not in the states anymore.

My apprehension about the country and the assignment slowly melted away as we became ‘residents’ of the community in which we lived.

Talking with the local population when one doesn’t speak the language.

I know you must be wondering how one gets along in a foreign country when the language is not your own.

One way is you tend to use your hands far more!

We were given a short course in the Turkish language when we arrived, mostly learning the greetings and polite phrases. We bought a language book and began getting out on the town. We did a lot of pointing and listening to the locals and slowly we picked up enough language to get by. Carol was far better at speaking than I was (she tried far harder than I did as well). Also, living on the local economy helped a great deal, too, because you hear the proper words and begin to link them to your purchases. You become sensitized to listening more carefully, and memorizing the words you recognize as meaningful in whatever conversation or transaction you’re involved in.

One of the most rewarding things for me was to see the Turks’ expressions change when we tried to communicate using Turkish. Turks are unfailingly warm and extremely enthusiastic toward those who at least make an attempt to speak to them in their native tongue. They are a most gracious people. To this day I cannot hold a true conversation in Turkish and I’m saddened by that, but I simply gave up trying to master the tongue; in our latest years in the country far more Turks spoke English and did it far better than I could speak Turkish.

In traveling throughout the countryside, I was always frustrated that I could not stop and go into a field and say, “what are you doing, how’s the crop coming this year, or have you had enough rain?” I would see older men gathered in çay (tea) houses enjoying çay and backgammon or cards and I so wanted to sit down and chat about nothing, yet about everything; it simply could not happen! It was my fault totally.

I’ll never forget a train trip we were on. We were in the dining car for breakfast and had eaten our last piece of bread. The gentleman across the aisle had fresh bread just brought onto the train and offered us half. It was hot and wonderful, we didn’t know this person from anyone, but that’s just how these incredibly gracious people respond to others, nationality be hanged! As I think back to that occasion, there was almost no verbal exchange involved, yet the language barrier was non-existent because words were not necessary. The gentleman had too much bread and we had none, thus he felt he needed to share. We saw this time and again, simple acts of human kindness; it was more than obvious we were not natives on that train; as far as the gentleman thought, we were simply fellow travelers sharing a moment in time.

Let’s eat!

There’s a pontoon bridge in Istanbul (think years ago, though the Galata Bridge is still there, and still the ferry terminal for all points in the Sea of Marmara), the bridge had cafes under it between the water line and the deck. These were small cafes and mostly fish places, and we ate at one some years ago. The fish was wonderful and the place was jammed. We were walking the streets of Istanbul and passed this restaurant; there were whole chickens on multiple rotisseries and the smell was heavenly, we had to go in for lunch! Carol and I shared a whole chicken and left there absolutely stuffed. Another day we were walking through the neighborhood in "old Istanbul" near the covered bazaar, and we passed by a restaurant with steaming windows. The food displayed looked great and we went in. It was a cafeteria-like environment and we ordered as we walked. Again, we were overwhelmed by the wonderful food. Turkey presents so many wonderful adventures in food!

Kids walk the streets with large pans or boards on their heads that are stacked high with what looks like a pretzel donut, they’re called ‘simit’. Many foreigners are using the derogatory term Hepatitis rings; we’ve eaten a ton of these over the years and never had a problem. They’re different texture and sizes all over Turkey and we ate all of them at one time or another, always good. Another wonderful thing on the street is Halka – deep fried pastry soaked with sugar water; absolutely great and delightfully messy!

One of my favorite places (as if I could pick only one) is a café in Ulus, the oldest part of Ankara. There’s no menu, and we ordered by descending the stairs into the kitchen and opening pots! "I’ll have some of this, and some of that" and we'd go back up and get a table; the food was brought up and, realizing we’ve over done it, we ate every bite. In another part of Ankara there’s a small place that serves only goat; the cooking is done in a silo-like oven dug into the floor. The meat is baked for 8 to 12 hours. This place has no flatware. You eat with your fingers, and like many other places you eat too much! This meat is to die for, falls off the bone, melt-in-your-mouth delicious. Another more refined dining experience got us into a very fine restaurant where we had stuffed chicken breast. The breasts are rolled and stuffed with cheese and mushrooms in a fabulous presentation; the rolled breast has a bone sticking out one end and it is wrapped with cotton that is set afire! The breasts are baked on a clay tile with all the bone ends hanging over the side.

Another major draw was the fish restaurant that baked your choice on clay tiles with tons of butter and chunks of chopped potatoes and onions. Salads came with every meal and the diversity in these is enough to make a vegetarian cry. Chopped romaine lettuce, carrots, radishes, celery root, tomatoes and tiny peppers covered in light olive oil and lemon juice; are you salivating yet?!

Here are a few expanded eating experiences to make you salivate:

Just outside of Ankara is an industrial complex where furniture is made; within the confines of this location is a fabulous eating adventure. This is the setting: it’s winter in Ankara, there’s snow in places, it’s extremely cold and there’s 8 or 10 of us going to lunch. The place chosen is a “tander Kabob house” (this is baked/roast goat); the meat is cooked in a floor oven. Envision a cylindrical hole in the floor that’s a meter in diameter and maybe two meters deep with a stone cover; there are shelves within this oven at maybe half meter intervals; the meat is cooked beginning at the bottom just above the fire that covers the floor of the oven. The process takes several hours and the meat is moved from the bottom shelf to the top shelf over a period of 6 or 8 hours. This is the original slow cooker.

This cooking technique has a long history and I don’t know it all but found the process most fascinating. The only meal served is this type kabob with plenty of raw onions (cut into quarters) and fresh baked bread. We find seating and sit with our coats and hats fully encasing our near frozen selves; the place is not heated. I feel as though I’m eating in a cold storage warehouse. We can see our breathe as we talk! Each of us in turn is brought a stainless steel twelve inch plate heaped with large chunks of roast meat, probably enough onion quarters to make an onion and a half or two and a half loaf of bread. The plate is steaming in the cold atmosphere and I’m waiting for flatware; surprise, I’m told this place does not have flatware; you simply eat this meal with your bare hands/fingers! I’m a ‘neatnik’ by nature and do not eat with my fingers. Well, this time I do or I won’t eat at all. I use a makeshift collection of tools to eat; a crust of bread to tear the meat apart (it’s incredibly tender and falls off the bone without much effort and a piece of onion as scoops. Everyone else is making out fine without makeshift utensils and they appear to enjoy the lunch.

Aside from the inconvenience of no flatware this lunch is without exaggeration the finest kabob one could ever slip between their lips! After eating we retreat to the row of sinks in the back to wash up. Most all eating establishments we’ve visited have water but rarely do they have warm let alone hot; this place has hot water and stacks of inkless newspaper for paper towels.

We’re on a tour out in the countryside, we’re supposed to have lunch at a local kabob house; as we arrive, the place appears to be closed and our guide is not very happy when he investigates and fines it’s, indeed, closed. The guide and the driver decide to improvise; we go into the little village and stop at the bakery, small store and the local “green grocery” (produce stand). They buy us bread, tomatoes, cucumbers and cheese. We break into the bread and it’s so hot we can hardly hold it; talk about fresh, you can’t do any better than this for great food! We eat sliced tomatoes, cucumbers and cheese on our bread; we all thank them profusely and tell them we’re pleased the restaurant was closed. As I type, I remember that picnic most distinctly and with very fond memories.

Another trip we were on, we stopped at a truck stop near Afyon for lunch. Everyone is getting a cafeteria style meal, once I’m through with mine I notice our bus driver, sitting off in the corner, is eating from what looks like a small Chinese wok. I go over and with the help of the guide find out what he’s eating. The meal is called, çoban karvarma (a Shepherd stew). Forgive my Turkish misspellings please. The driver sees I’m very curious about the meal and hands me a plate of bread and invites me to join him; I hesitate, but he insists, so I do and I’m smitten by this wonderful stew. It was composed of tiny lamb pieces, chopped peppers, onions and spices all stir-fried. I've never gotten another plate of it as long as I've been traveling; even though each time I saw it on a menu I ordered it but never once did I get anything like that first and most tasty plate of food!

Then there’s the time we were on a yacht trip alone the south coast from Alanya and we docked in a small cove where a man was grilling on the beach. He had bamboo shoots laden with tiny pieces of meat over a grill; this is called “cop shish”. Cop is the Turkish word for trash, pronounced Chirp. I must have eaten two dozen of those little things before deciding—enough! Once more I was hooked on a great eating experience and I ordered it anytime I saw it on a menu. Eating in Turkey as I’ve said before is a passion after nearly 14 years but it’s also an adventure because no two plates from across the country, even if named the same, are the same! Rarely did we dine anywhere, big city or the tiniest village, where food was not the highlight of the adventure.

I could go on about food for days and pages, but here you get the idea; food in Turkey is a passion!

The Black Sea and Sinop

Turkey by the sea; this country is a large peninsula surrounded on three sides by water. To the north is the Black Sea; a beautiful body of water that is caressed by a unique boat of a distinct design. The boats are short and wide built to carry large quantities of raw materials and have plied the waters here for centuries. I can still here the lapping of waves on the pier below my hotel window in Sinop. Sinop is a small fishing village that straddles an isthmus; my hotel is right on the seawall and just across from the old roman fortress wall still standing.

No swimming here now, the jellyfish have invaded the harbor area and the water looks translucent white with them. I step out on my balcony and look directly down into the infested waters. I love this room; the waves always put me to sleep. The hotel staff was always ready to do whatever they could to make my visit more memorable each time I stayed. Every day fresh fish was severed and the vegetables; tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers and radishes, eating was always the highlight of any visit.

To the west was the Aegean Sea, Izmir was the city we most always visited there and again we stayed on the seaside. The bay was always beautiful blue and crisscrossed by ferries constantly. The sounds of ferry horns and the washing up of waves against the breakers was music to the soul.

To the south is the Mediterranean Sea; a beauty I can scarcely describe with mere words. The colors would change over time during the day, beginning with aqua green and finishing a deep royal blue. Watching the sun rise and the moon rise over the water was a treat every time we got the opportunity to stay on the coast. We visited numerous hotels along the Med Coast even on one occasion staying on the north coast of Cyprus.

Where it was Sinop, Izmir or any number of hotels along the south coast; the Turks were gracious, hospitable hosts. Yes, we were paying guests but ‘service’ in Turkey is an art form and those who provide it strive to be better than the last place you stayed. As I write these words I can’t help but be saddened by a longing for those waterfront hotels.

Turkey of Old

Looking historically, it’s old, it’s ancient, its past dates before most of us can fathom; 50,000 years has been documented by archaeologist. The most recent digging has been around a site in southeastern Turkey where a settlement is said to date from 8,200 BC! It has the feel of Stonehenge but dates centuries before.

This country contains the excavated sites of the seven churches of Revelations. There are major excavations of Hittite ruins dating from the Old Testament stories. Santa Claus was born on the south coast of Turkey. Significant portions of the Silk Road have been unearthed here, as well as more Roman ruins than I can possibly write about in this short note.

Known in the ancient past as Asia Minor, Turkey can boast of conquests from the east, north and south, it’s no wonder the population demonstrates such a massive diversity.

Carol and I have walked the streets of Ephesus, Pergamum, Aphrodisius, ancient Smyrna, and numerous other sites. We’ve walked in the footsteps of Paul of Tarsus, Diogenes, Alexander the Great, Fredric the Great and many others. We’ve adventured through Cappadocia where our human ancestors lived like ants underground in major communities of tunnels and carved rooms. We’ve walked the hillsides and visited the tombs of the Pontiff Kings. We strode the gardens of the Ottoman Places and visited the Harems of that time.

Whether on the fields of battle or in the palaces of power (both past and present) the awe of this country gets into your bones and will not let you go!

Best Way to See the Sights? WALK!

Walking the pathways of time: Carol and I used to escort newcomers to Ankara around the city. We would begin by meeting up at the Roman Bath complex; this excavation is in Ulus the older part of Ankara. We would walk through the site and see the basic foundation, piles of circular tiles used to hold up the floor. Hot humid air used to circulate under the floors and throughout the facility. There were cold chambers and warm ones, there was a very large pool and dressing rooms (think locker room).

From here we’d walk several blocks to visit the Julian Column; this monument was set in place to commemorate the visit of Emperor Julian to Ankara. Next we’d visit the ruin of the Temple of Augustus; today it’s adjacent to and a part of an old mosque, two walls are still standing one as part of the mosque the other stands alone. The walk standing on its own holds the massive inscriptions documented the deed of Augustus. Unfortunately, modern day pollution is eroding the inscription and if it’s not fully protected it will be lost to the generations following us.

From here, we ascend the hillside and walk through the massive gate of the Galatians built castle/fortress that crowns the hilltop above Ulus. This fortress has both an outer wall and an inner one; we explore the interior to the point where we ascend to the most pinnacle of the ancient structure. From this vantage we can see a full range of modern Ankara. As we leave out of the castle we visit the Museum of Anatolian Civilizations. The museum is located in an old caravan saray renovated and fully restored for the purpose. This museum begins at the Neolithic age and proceeds through the Greek and Romans. This is not an attraction in Ankara to pass up; this is one of the finest collections of artifacts anywhere on the planet. After visiting here we stop for lunch.

After eating a wonderful meal we walk over to the ethnographic museum and visit the textiles and daily life exhibits from Ottoman times to the Ataturk years. This museum housed the crypt of Ataturk before his mausoleum was constructed. Next to this museum is the art museum but we take no time there because our day is fast slipping away. We instead walk over to the Ataturk Mausoleum and visit the majestic surroundings of this incredible architecture. The mausoleum sits on a rolling hill that gives accent to the significance of what’s here. Ataturk is the founder and father of modern Turkey, his life and contributions to the people of Turkey are enshrined here. This is without exaggeration the highlight of the days touring; the cars that carried Ataturk to the fields and to official functions are on display here, Lincoln, and Cadillac. A massive collection of mementos are housed in this complex. This is another of Ankara’s don’t miss attractions.

One can visit the first building used by the revolutionary congress before the republic was formed. A few footsteps away one can also visit the second parliamentary building, both now museums. Other major sites to see are the modern parliament building, Kocatepe Mosque and the Atakula Tower. A visit to Ankara cannot be fully appreciated in a day; it simply too much history and culture to fathom in 24 hours.

Writing this makes me homesick, but I want to encourage anyone thinking of a trip to make plenty of time for an education and historical adventure you won’t soon forget!

Breakup of the Soviet Union

Soviet disintegration. In 1991, the Soviet Union begins its transition from communism to “something” new and different. Masses of their citizens came to Turkey to find their fortunes; across the Black Sea, from the east through the Caucasus and west through Istanbul. Budding entrepreneurs began flooding into Turkey with all matter of Soviet made products. Flea markets became collection points for these people; street corners were popular places for the lone individuals to plop down a sports bag and begin hawking goods. We bought watches, stamps, lacquer boxes, ‘matchbox’ cast medal toys and models. A big seller back then was the “commendrusky” pilot watch; I have several, one most prized is the KGB. These people would sell anything to get a few Lira or US Dollars; they were starving for a currency that had some value and strength.

A typical Saturday back then; catch the local dolmus and ride down town to the old area of Discopi and walk around the market. Soviets were very evident, heavily dressed and not very well groomed, they had tarps laid out on the ground and all matter of ‘junk’ for sale. One unforgettable group had come in by bus; this was an old gray school bus, the presentation was simply broken and dysfunctional scarps of chairs, fans, power tools and dirty clothes. The Turks were rummaging through the lot but I didn’t see anyone buying as we made our way around. Keep in mind this was a very primitive market; there was produce on one side and vendors selling Chinese plastic ware, there were fabric sellers and shoes sellers and plenty of other things. This was simply a lower class bazaar that happened every Saturday but we ventured there because every once in a while some treasure would appear.

The Soviet invasion of this market made those treasures appear a little more frequently. We always said as we walked the pathways through this market, “you have to view and lot of toads before the handsome prince appeared”! These were great times to be strolling the streets because great buys might just be in some little shoulder bag around the next corner. I bought some beautiful stamp collection this way; Soviet postal stamps with first rate art work!

Taking the Train

Taking the train; many times in our years in Turkey we boarded the night train for a weekend getaway. We used to take the train from Ankara to Izmir, from Ankara to Istanbul and in our latest stay in country from Adana to Ankara. We would board in the early evening, get to our sleeper compartment and relax. Most destinations were billed as eight to ten hours and most dragged into 12 to 14. That was no problem really; we were never on a tight schedule of any schedule at all.

We’d take a taxi to the train station and drag our bags through the terminal, down under the tracks and then up to our designated platform. We were usually a little early and once we were on the proper platform, we’d sit and watch the commuter trains come and leave the station while waiting for our train to arrive. People watching was also a wonderful pastime; it doesn’t matter whether you’re in Turkey or in any other city at a major transportation hub, people treat waiting in a thousand different ways.

Once our train pulled into the station, we’d wait for the conductor to summon us. Generally, the conductor would actually come to us and take our bags, asking us to follow him. The sleeper car was nearly always the last car on the train and we would have a compartment midway in the car. I would usually slip the man a few Lira and verbally thank him for his help. Once the trip was at destination it was customary to tip the conductor for his services; his getting you on the train, turning down your beds and anything you might ask of him for while you’re on board. Our routine usually meant sitting around for departure and then watching the city fade from view as the train took us away. Once we were out of the city and the train was moving normally, we’d make our way to the dining car. Usually, it was the next car ahead of ours, but occasionally it was a few cars up the train. In the old days back in the 1980s, the dining car was always quite smoky and fully in use; it’s not so much anymore. We never had any difficulty finding a table but sometimes it was a challenge. We’d often order the special of the day, some kind of chicken or maybe kurta (ground lamb meat patties). Every meal came with salad, bread and drinks (except alcohol, which was extra); the food was always quite good. The service was a different story; it always depended on the size of the crowd and the cook.

We’d leisurely enjoy our dinner; main course, salad, bread, plenty of tea or other refreshment and then walk back to our compartment; or wobble back depending on the placement of the tracks, HaHaha. Walking through the cars was always a challenge, not a serious one but depending on the trains speed and the rail bed you could be tossed gently from side to side. Moving from one car to another was always interesting as well because you had to slide a double set of doors open as you were swaying side to side, some of them opened with ease but others made you work at it. Back in our compartment the conductor has turned down our beds and we’d retire for the evening.

Many people have told me they don’t sleep well on the train but I’ve never had any problem; with all the swaying going on it’s akin to being rocked in a very large cradle. Every once in a while though, there’s a major jolt that tends to wake me when we pull away from a scheduled stop but most of the trip I sleep very well. Nearly forgot to mention the rest rooms; they are located in the front and rear of each train car. Generally, there’s a Turkish restroom at one end and a European one at the other.

When morning arrives we repeat the evening ritual, and make our way to the dining car for breakfast. We always opted for the traditional Turkish breakfast: tea, bread and a plate of sliced tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, white and yellow cheese. I’m not a fan of olives so Carol got them and she passed her white cheese to me. We were usually the first to the dining car; Turks are not early risers, so we had plenty of time to enjoy our meal and the passing landscape. This is a pastime we truly miss now we live back in the states! Should you ever have the opportunity DO NOT pass it up.