Napping is a beautiful thing. When I wake-up from a nap I feel refreshed. Revived. Renewed.
I woke up mid-afternoon in Goreme and quickly emerged from the damp cave to take in my surroundings.
Scotty sat outside at picnic bench, working on paper work.
A few minutes later, Claire emerged from her bed, too.
Claire and I had been reunited in Olympos on our last night.
“I’m on your bus,” she said as we sat in the tree house bar.
I was thrilled.
She and I bonded over the gross stories of Murat and decided to hang out in Goreme for three days, along with Scotty.
We didn’t do much in those three days. We ate. We lounged at the pool. We walked around town.
But, mostly we marveled at the sheer beauty of the town.
Goreme isn’t big. In fact, it has a distinct small town feel. It has Old Man Alley, where old men (of course) sit at a cafe and stare at you as you walk by.
Like they’ve seen you naked.
Everyone at the shops knows everyone else at the shops. They tell you were to go (because they get a nice kickback), they give you “good deals.” Restaurants are abundant and delicious, specializing in clay pot meals where they cook the food in terracotta pots all day and then bring it to your table and crack it open, displaying a mix of veggies and meat in a delicious sauce. They serve amazing homemade wine.
There are locals and then there are tourists of all kinds, all in town to see one thing — the cave homes and fairy chimneys of the land.
The homes and chimneys jut out of the ground, big hunks of light-colored rocks, some with windows, some with doors, some housing entire hotels.
They are freaks of nature in the coolest sense possible.
I loved it.
At sunset, the tall caves would echo the sky, turning pink and purple and orange as night grew closer.
I wanted to take tours, to go on the hot air balloon ride, but instead, I just relaxed. Money was a bit tight, so I was OK with hearing every one’s reviews of the tours and experiences they had at night as we sat around enjoying the delicious barbecue.
On my last night in Goreme, I went out with Scotty, Claire and another Fez tour guide. We went to a cave bar and sat around, listening to “We Don’t Speak No Americano” and “Waka Waka.”
After we were done, we ran into a local Scotty knew and hitched a ride in a pimped out van to the desert next to the city.
For about 20 minutes, I just looked up.
The stars were like Koygeicz, sparkling in the vast black sky.
It was a good way to end my time on the Fez tour.
I was ready to go back to Istanbul the next day and to have my reunion with one of my favorite mates from Down Under, Chris.