Turkey Tour: Part 4 - Trabzon/Sümela Monastery/Uzungöl

Part 4a - Sümela Monastery

So. In the last episode, there was talk about embracing challenges. Well, imagine the annoying bubbly overtly optimistic cheerleader Sky voice in my head as we by some super driving skills made it through the Sivas city center traffic, found our way after looping many circles around the parking garage and asking the guard through google translate where on earth to return the rental car because there’s no marked station, made it inside the terminal to discover the Avis rental booth closed, asked another kind security guard through google translate if they could help call the staff, THEN tried to check-in for our flight which didn’t work online - ONLY to find out our tickets were mysteriously cancelled and supposedly refunded on THE DAY WE BOOKED THEM (which our emails/credit card statement show no trace of).

… -_____- my face.

*yay, Tong! go, Tong! You can do this!

Nope, Mam, nothing we can do, all flights are booked today.
Nope, there are no trains to Trabzon.

We left the ticket counter, and after a very brief moment of sulking, ideas and strategies instantly began popping into our heads.

Actually, this is better. This is exactly what we talked about, how it’s much better to actually drive between the cities, instead of flying the opposite direction to have a long layover in Istanbul and taking just as long to arrive in Trabzon. We quickly made our way to the rental car booth, when the kind Avis man who helped us the previous day was just arriving. We explained the situation, and he patiently helped us check the possibilities, and even helped lower the high cost of returning the car at a different location. Still pricey, but we were pumped. Extended roadtrip with Walker! We decided to take an extra two days, and we can explore all the beautiful countryside roads and hit some of the more remote destinations outside the city limits of Trabzon. “Killing many stones with one bird”, as Darvn would put it.

All we could do was laugh at the ridiculousness and how perfectly meant to be everything turned out. Because how wild an adventure we’re about to experience the next two days thanks to having Walker. Driving those 5 hours through stunning mountain passes, winding up and down dramatic slopes, shockingly majestic terrains, sceneries changing by the hour as we head more northeast and approach the Black Sea and the valleys - more pine trees yet also more lush mountains. Darvn said it feels like just like Banff, and yes, but somehow even more vibrant and green. We got to pass through a cute little town for a delicious relaxing lunch at a geeky cafe called The Ring full of fantasy vibes from, well, Lord of the Rings, and other beloved worlds of Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, etc. etc. And we went straight to our first destination outside of Trabzon which for me, was definitely a highlight of the trip: the mystical Sümela Monastery perched 3900 feet high on the side of a cliff.

Journeying up to the monastery was a surreal kind of experience. It’s definitely a popular tourist destination, with swarms of people and tour buses and chaotic ticket sales. We just zoomed past them all and without much hesitation started charging up the zig zag mountain. And how fulfilling the climb up was. To tilt your head up and see that impossible bizarre structure glued to the face of the mountain, and step by step make your way towards it, not knowing - not knowing exactly how long it will take, what the path is like, if it’s even possible to get there by foot.

But we’re comfortable with uncertainty. We find a way.

And we were pretty much the only people climbing that trail by foot. Step by step around the waterfall that quickly steepens beneath us. Each time we gaze into the distance, the rolling mist and residue late afternoon sun creates a different haze that glows with such soft peaceful serenity. No wonder, yes, actually still wondrous this is perhaps what is meant to seek your path into the depth of the mountains, on top of mountain peaks to train and practice and honour your spirituality. There’s an incredibly charged mystical energy here. From the history and nature. The people and land and fusing of worlds. Finding humbly a space to simply take in the awe. No picture could capture it. No film or soundtrack.

So many moments I stopped and just wondered at the incredible smell of the rainforest. Breathing so deeply that the fresh spiritual nourishment wasn’t just coming through my nostrils, but permeating through ever pore on my skin. Simply that. Breathing in awe. I remember that. How fresh, how delicious the air. The most beautiful symphony of waterfall and and wind and birds and the simple joy of ascending with your own two feet, step by step, step by step.

That’s such a different feeling than just being crammed into a tour bus and waiting forever in line to get up.

Once we reached the monestary, the awe just kept compounding. On the path there we heard the traditional fast-paced huron dance music played by a kemençe musician (I even got to try a bit, and sounded like a dying cat!). The fresco inside and outside the various chapels were mesmerizing - their colours, details, patterns, and finally just taking in the mysterious curiosity of how such a structure could exist and be built thousands of years ago - it was all so humbling and thrilling. At the same time, observing with the same curiosity the people’s relation to and with such a work of art - the stereotypical travellers posing for their IG and TikTok vacation videos, the families that look exhausted and kids who seem bored, the date couples with the lady dressed in stiletto heels. Curious. Why we travel to such lengths to snap a photo. To have some proof we existed here. To carve in initials and graffiti onto ancient relics. To want evidence, permanence, meaning.

What also touched us was our hilarious walk down. Where a series of at least 10 different groups and drivers tried to offer us help. First the tour bus driver who in the beginning charged us then offered us a free ride down - to which we politely declined, deciding we genuinely wanted to enjoy the fresh air and beautiful mountain stroll some more. And from there, the family who stopped and asked if we needed help or a lift down, the countless other private vans and travellers who offered us a ride - it was remarkable how people go out of their way to offer a helping hand here. All the while, we just kept derpily bouncing down the zig zag path to the now waning sunset.

That was quite the experience.

From there, getting to our hotel was not an easy stroll either. Our hotel was right in the center of the city, and driving and parking there was horrendous. Alongside the million buses, the much crazier traffic than Sivas, and the endless pedestrians that walk in all directions at all times… I felt like a real hero when finally found our hotel and a parking space. My head was about to explode.

And that was only part 1 of the 2 part driving challenges. The next day we had a crazier one to come.

Whose idea?

Yep. Still me. Crazy wild and ‘stupid’ as Darvn would (lovingly) say.

Part 4b - Uzungöl/Karester Yaylası

So now we’re getting a bit more confident and a bit too much more brave. I knew Uzungöl lake was an iconic destination to visit while we had the car, but us being us, we had to find the highest peak we could get to. And ta-dah, there’s a road path up to Karester Yaylası, 9000 feet in the mist. The photos looked stunning, farmlands and panoramic views of the lake emerging above the clouds. The reviews were questionable, occasionally remarking on the ‘difficult journey up’ and the dense fog.

But - welp, won’t find out until we try!

Well, little did we know what fog can be. What freezing rain can be 9000 feet up in the mountains. This time I admit, quite a lot of foolishness in how underprepared we were with clothing. Though we did have enough water, and we were smart enough at a certain point of the steep zig-zag road to abandon the car because we literally, literally not as in exaggeration but actually could not see more than two feet in front behind or around us.

It’s VOID in its utmost definition. Bizarre. No depth, no perspective. No time or dimensions or even flatness or sense of anything. Just in the white hazy nothingness. Nothing behind reach. It was a new kind of thrilling. Not loud, not fast, not terrifying - well, terrifying in a kind of perplexing soft way. It was beautiful. Other-worldly.

But first, the initial 30 min part of the drive once we started going up the slope - that’s where all the reality check of ‘uh-oh, should we really be doing this’ came in.

It was an incredibly packed one lane road for two way traffic. All the minivans and taxis were stalled going both ways - the path was congested with people trying to reach the restaurants at the first stretch of the slopes. And the maneuvering was some high level acrobatics. Cars with their side rear windows pushed in, barely scraping past each other. Locals getting out and yelling directions to try to help move along the traffic. Quite a decent amount of honking and angry shouts but people generally just amused or exasperated at the situation. No accidents from what we could tell. But a stretch that should have taken 5 min to drive turned into 1 hour. And all we could think about was - how on earth were we supposed to get down. This is it. This is where Walker says goodbye, where we say goodbye, perhaps.

We attempted to leave the car once when I found a tiny stop and did my most spectacular parallel parking to date to squeeze in there. But once we started hiking up the remaining 10km, we quickly realized the worst of the traffic is over, and decided we would try to drive up a bit more. Along the way we saw an epic lookout with swings that launched right over panoramic views of Uzungöl lake. It was epic. And we probably loitered there too long because the fog immediately rolled in, taking us into that impossible fog where we had to stop and abandon ship again.

It’s funny to walk in that limbo state. Not knowing. How much further, what the view is like, whether any of this struggle is worth it. And we were so cold, tired, hungry.

Then suddenly, as quickly as the fog rolled in, it began to clear up. Not completely. But the light suddenly brightened. We looked down the lower side of the cliff and gasped at the earth that began to appear beneath - it was glorious, the stretch of valleys and hills and the perspective that came back, momentarily. Then - turn our heads, and on the other side we see the steep slopes have flattened and we’ve arrived at the peak, the flatlands and farm village with lush green rolling grass fields, COWS, and - a charming wood cabin, a restaurant/hotel!

We didn’t see a single person coming down while we were hiking up, so we were skeptical whether we’d find food and shelter at the top, but miraculously, there was light inside the cabin. We knocked and a young friendly couple smiled and welcomed us in, “of course, we’re open, please! Are you cold? Let me grab you some blankets!”

And with the help of google translate again, we spent nearly a hour just bonding with the family - talking about their love for Canada, their dream of visiting, the local culture in the Black Sea region, the different instruments and music in the folk tradition along with their oral language that is nearly lost. After the feast they prepared right their across in the kitchen for us, the husband challenged Darvn to an arm-wrestle - and there, we were all one family in the course of one mysterious afternoon!

That was one of the most heartwarming experiences of this trip. And during our late lunch, the fog cleared up some more, and we walked outside to witness the most dramatic changes in the clouds as they morphed in all directions, tangling with the sunlight across the deep valleys. Being up here 9000 feet, just watching these natural phenomenons, eating delicious hot foot and creamy rice pudding and endless Turkish tea, making new friends - it was again, something we could have never imagined.

On the way down, the rain picked up, and we thought we wouldn’t make it… never once did we expect after 42 degrees Bodrum to be so cold in Turkey. Again, miraculously, a car of dentists on vacation were driving down and stopped to pick us two drenched freezing turkeys (ha) on the way and dropped us off at the park. Everything was frozen, we could barely laugh at the whole situation, it was miserable. I really thought I would collapse as we were jogging down that hill. And that was a moment where a teenage boy could come up with something like, “see, it’s not just about the good moments, but difficult ones too, right?”

I was so proud of Darvn that entire day. Up and down, he somehow kept our spirits up and in his annoying way with his ridiculous jokes kept us going forwards.

Part 4c - Trabzon

The third day was another people day. Again, unexpected. What a sweet way to end our time in Turkey. Couchsurfing is a community and platform that has already countless times facilitated the most unlikely yet deep, intimate, long-lasting relationships I’m fostering to this day. All around the world, strangers who have opened up their homes and became friends, collaborators, sisters, family, sometimes for a few days, sometimes for months - my Swiss host parents!

And this time, just for a day - we were again amazed at the length a stranger would go to help us. It both puzzles and disarms me - why? And I don’t ask seeking for any solid answer, but simply out of an amused disbelief. Why do people help each other? Is it really transactional?

This time we did’t even stay with our host - we were just seeking for locals to show us around Trabzon and connect us to local musicians. And there we have it - Nuri, a host with thousands of reviews for his hospitality, shows up in the afternoon to guide us through a complete personalized research tour we were not in the least expecting. A man of few words, Nuri walked quickly throughout the city showing us the historical sites, a gem of an artist hub called the “Art House” where we saw up close the variety of hand crafts by artists of many different mediums - silver and gold sewing, traditional Islamic artists, leather goods craftswomen, calligraphers, embroidery artists, the list goes on and on - it was fascinating to see the meticulous detail and amount of time, patience, and attention to create all these pieces from scratch.

Next, we went to the first meeting point with ‘a musician friend’. We had no idea what to expect. And when we entered a random commercial looking building and stepped into the elevator, part of me laughed inside and thought - alright, so this is where we get kidnapped. But ta-dah, the doors open and we see an entrance to a music school, where a teacher politely invites us into her office, the students eagerly watching us as we sit down in front of her table.

Part of me now was still confused - the occasion seemed rather formal, like I was the guest of honour. And later I found out, that was indeed what happened. Somehow word got passed to the school that I was here to give - a masterclass! And the teacher and students have already found my website and music and were so looking forward to performing for me and getting my feedback.

Not only did the teacher and students at Hazal Tanç Bekar receive us with such respect and hospitality, the teacher went through the effort to meticulously hand write a page detailing the history, background, and theoretical elements of music from the Black Sea region, printing out for us sheet music of traditional tunes. They then went on to demonstrate a well-known tune on bağlama and Qanun/Kanun.

At the end, we took a photo together and in the long silence of translation being typed into the phone, I felt a deep connection with the kids here through our shared love for music, whichever instrument, whatever meter or mode. “Thank you” she wrote, “the students will treasure this memory, they have been inspired deeply.”

Such a brief moment, such a short encounter in an afternoon, and so much could blossom. And I’m still thinking of those children now, all ages and experiences - asking them a seemingly simple, yet necessary question, “do you like playing music?” and being reminded, reminding themselves the gleam on their faces, the glow in their eyes as they shyly smile and nod. That’s 90 percent of the ‘masterclass’, to listen.

I played some Gershwin/Wild and 绣金匾 for them, tried out the Kanun, laughed some more at the difficulties in translation, and bid our farewells, promising our return and to stay in touch. I do sincerely hope whether it’s classical or traditional music, that these student’s paths to discovery music will continue to be nurtured so beautifully.

So, from there, we were ready to return to our hotel - only to find out there was part 2 planned by Nuri for us! We wandered quickly through the streets and found ourselves at another music school - where we encountered our soon-to-be new Turkish brother - Irfan. Again, the generosity just overwhelmed us. Irfan sat down with us to patiently explain his bağlama, called in his girlfriend as a translator to conduct an interview with us, then demonstrated a variety of stunning pieces on his instrument.

What struck me most was how passionate we all musicians were to share and communicate and give and receive. In this classic case where language is a barrier, music speaks volumes. Even though the musical language is also different, there’s an expression of something raw and ‘basic’ yet profound that is felt when sitting so close to a new instrument speaking the same ancient language, feeling that live, feeling the vibrations, the focus, the intensity, not just the craft and skill but the love for creating and channeling rhythm, melody, sound, stories.

These were not just ‘mini-concerts’ or interviews. These private personal demonstrations made all the difference in our journey across Turkey. They left such a rich imprint on my heart and fuelled my humble fascination and appreciation for traditional music cultures in a completely new way. Not just imagined or studied through recordings, but witnessed how this music is a part of daily life for the wonderfully warm and giving human beings on this side of the world.

In the evening, we wandered to the waterfront, and by chance encountered a massive open air concert with a popular singer and a rock band with traditional instruments including the Kanun alongside keyboard and drums. The atmopshere was so celebratory, people sitting on the steps, groups dancing the huron in a line, clapping, chanting, laughing, families and couples and youngsters with their icecream. When we sat down near the front, a funny moment occurred when a woman came up behind me, tapped me on the shoulder and began enthusiastically speaking to me in Turkish while pointing at her phone - an Instagram story of me just today performing/teaching at Hazal Tanç! I smiled and nodded at what she was saying - which in some combination of Turkish/English sounded like her expressing her appreciation for my visit. It was wild, how things come around. My one moment of ‘fame’ being spotted in the crowd! But that’s besides the point. Sitting there with the group, moved by the rhythm of the fusion between traditional Black Sea region music and pop song melodies, the glow of the deep blue sky with streaks of purple and red from the residue sunset, the waves of the sea, the lights on the doc, the wrapping of a chapter… there was a charm that was so real, so memorable, so intensely simple, peaceful, and joyful in that resonance, in the collective rhythms and fresh evening air.

And that was Turkey. In a nutshell. Lots of shells, cause we sure had a lot of walnuts and sunflower seeds. The smallest moments I will always treasure, just finding a market for water, just wandering and walking under the scorching sun, every confused dialogue with locals, every song and note we heard, the words we started to understand and be able to repeat. A language infused into our bodies as we existed in a space. That, perhaps, is the ‘immersing’. With all humility and respect, with acknowledgement to our limitations, we have tasted a tiny part of this foreign, now strangely familiar land.

Teşekkürler,

Yours,

Skye.pianist

xoxo

Day 10