Southern Turkey: On and Off the Beaten Path

Southeastern Turkey feels more Middle Eastern than the rest of the country. Sharing borders with Syria, Iraq, and Iran, this region has substantial Kurdish and Arabic populations, with Turks in the minority. Most travelers in Turkey skip the area altogether, as it’s a long way from Istanbul and its sights may be less compelling than those in more convenient locales. As I planned to cross the Turkish border from Syria, I welcomed the opportunity to walk the road less traveled.

Few tourists are seen here at any time of year; when I went, it was the end of low season. Add on the usual alien-Asian factor and the residents of Sanliurfa and Gaziantep didn’t know quite what to make of me. I spent a large amount of the time feeling uncomfortable with the stares, pointing and people in my face crying, "Hapon! Chink. Cine?" Children would follow me on their bikes yelling, "Konichiwa!" And for most of the time, I faced people who were genuinely baffled by English. I appreciated it on one level, as I certainly don’t think everyone in the world should be expected to know English, but it did make travel a bit difficult.

But the benefits of exploring the Southeast include lower accommodation prices, cuisine envied by Istanbul natives, some interesting religious sites, bargain shopping, wide-open space as the sole tourist in town, and, of course, proximity to Nemrut Dagi.

Nemrut Dagi is definitely THE highlight of the region. Crumbling monuments dramatically perched at the summit of a mountain, heads fallen from bodies and staring at the sunrise. It’s not actually the SOUTHeast but is easily reachable using Urfa as a base. I wanted desperately to travel farther east, but with only 13 days to explore Turkey, Nemrut was the farthest I could go; that alone made the Southeast a worthwhile stop.

On the other end of the spectrum is Olympos. On the Western Mediterranean coast, Olympos is an entirely different world—a world almost entirely populated by tourists. There is a reason tourists come—the scenery is breathtaking, but it’s a shock after traveling through the southeast.

Many people come to Turkey and spend most of their time in Istanbul. If you have the time and are tolerant of long bus rides, going south is a fantastic way to see another side of the country.

Quick Tips:

If you plan to visit Nemrut Dagi, stay in Urfa (aka Sanliurfa). There are several other towns to choose from and some are closer to the mountain itself, but Urfa has the most to offer, with more accommodation and restaurant options and its own sights of interest.

A recommended tour from Urfa (which I didn’t take) is to Harran. According to the Book of Genesis, Harran was briefly home to Abraham and his family. This ancient area is still covered in distinctive beehive houses made of baked mud. One reason I didn’t make time to go is that there isn’t much left to see—however, with a good tour guide to explain, it should be worthwhile. Harran and Nemrut Tours in Urfa is excellent if you get the owner as a guide.

Don’t plan too long for Olympos. It is beautiful but crowded, and hardly a beach paradise. Unless you are with a huge group of friends, it can be kind of boring.

Have a good phrasebook, or learn to be comfortable with gestures and lots of patience. Few people speak English in the Southeast. Few people don't speak English in Olympos.

I took a chance on using a Footprint guidebook, not wanting to be dependant on Lonely Planet. I'd heard Footprint was excellent for South America, and LP had really let me down in Egypt. But for Turkey, Footprint's not quite there yet. Explanations for getting around are poor to nonexistent, the maps are difficult to read, some of the hotel recommendations are iffy, and the sheer number of spelling errors is very distracting. LP books on Turkey are updated frequently while the last Footprint is from 2001. It's less of an issue in the touristy parts, but I had some trouble in the Southeast.

The older editions of LP were written by Turkey authority Tom Brosnahon. Check out Tom's Turkey Travel Planner for great starting info on the whole country.

Best Way To Get Around:

The bus. That’s it. Get ready for sore asses. Extra sore for me, as I came from Syria. It was almost 4 hours from Aleppo to Antakya, at which point I transferred to a 9-hour bus to Sanliurfa. From Urfa it was about 3 hours by bus to Antep. After a stop in Cappadocia (7 hours away from Antep), I rode another 10 hours down to a mountain area near Olympus. Which then requires a transfer to a smaller bus that actually goes down toward the beach. The return is then…13 hours to Istanbul.

Urfa and Antep are walkable small cities. From Urfa’s bus station I took a taxi in to town (and got ripped off), but from Antep I took a local bus to town instead. Once in town, you can basically walk everywhere. Walking south toward the lake in Urfa is especially pleasant, passing numerous mosques and the souk along the way.

Olympos’ main "street" is basically all hotels. Where I stayed, it was about an 7-minute walk to the start of the ruins, then another 10 minutes to the water. Some hotels are farther and provide shuttle service.

I met Bayram in Goreme, and spent a strange night out with him. After much pushing and prodding, I was finally swayed into visiting Olympos.

Bayram was still in Goreme when I left. Brian and Phoenix, who I’d met in Goreme, decided 15YTL was too expensive and left in search of cheaper lodgings. They soon returned, discovering that in this over-touristed area, the prices were similar across the board. There’s really no reason for cutthroat competition with so many tourists to go around.

Despite its half-outdoors setup and Dahab-esque common space (i.e. several areas of low cushions surrounding low table) Bayram’s had a more "professional" feel than any other hotel I’d visited in the Middle East. That meant definitely no haggling, 15YTL was the price.

It's a bargain. It includes a shared room in a treehouse—Olympos is famous for treehouse hotels—choice of several delicious breakfast dishes like omelets or traditional Turkish (tomato, bread, cheese), and hearty dinner buffets. Generally the dinners were vegetarian stews and rice, occasionally fish. Lunch is available for purchase at the bar, mostly very large tasty sandwiches. Since there is little else to spend money on in Olympos, it ends up being less than 20YTL per day unless you drink a lot of beer.

The treehouses are not so much IN the trees as they are MADE of trees. Kind of like my treedresser and treebookshelves at home. The rooms sleep four, and I always worried I’d wake up my roommates climbing the creaky wooden steps. The windows are very hard to open so there's not much fresh air. The treehouses make going to the shared bathrooms inconvenient, but on the plus side the bathrooms are spotlessly clean, with completely separate showers and good water pressure.

Internet is available but not cheap; combination of captive audience and remote location. The book exchange is excellent and not guarded well. I have to admit I stole a book, but it was one of the unintentionally funniest things I'd ever read involving a hyperviolent homosexual prison relationship. Bayram's also offers evening tours to Chimera (the flames) and has a nice bar.

Bayram’s vibe wasn’t that friendly, although a girl who'd left her previous hotel told me others were worse—all couples. Looking around, I couldn’t see much difference.

For a solo traveler like me, Bayram’s felt uninviting. The common space is too big to force guests into new friendships. The long communal tables in the dining area are reminiscent of "cool" and "dorky" tables in a high school cafeteria. The staff was polite but not especially friendly, unlike most budget hotels I’d visited.

Bayram’s was highly recommended by a fellow traveler at Mar Musa, and I think it would be a fun place to be with friends. From talking to many other travelers and Istanbul residents, I decided my issues were with Olympos itself, not necessarily Bayram’s. If you decide to visit Olympos, Bayram's is a good place to stay.

Hotel Evin’s facilities are clean and comfortable. A room with private bath was 15YTL after some light bargaining with the sweet manager, while a shared bath (with squat toilet) was 12YTL. After two days of squatting and hose-showering in Urfa I was more than happy to pay a little extra.

The staff does not speak English, but is very kind. When the manager asked if I would be requesting breakfast in the morning, we reached a roadblock in our collective language skills. Finally he said "Good morning!" several times while miming scooping food and chewing. Adorable, and very clear. I opted to forage on my own instead. The odd thing was my guidebook wrote this hotel did NOT offer breakfast—either it was another mistake or they’d started something new.

The hotel is 5 stories high and does not feature an elevator. Despite the fact that the hotel seemed empty, I was assigned to the 4th floor. The room is quite large with two beds, very nice bathroom (happily, shower and toilet are separate here) and satellite TV. I enjoyed several episodes of CSI, Cold Case and Nip/Tuck, shows I never watch at home.

There is no A/C but the large windows let a decent amount of air in. There is a very large common area that has a decidedly formal feel to the décor, but the staff members and their friends seemed to enjoy using it. Overall, I had a very pleasant overnight stay at Hotel Evin, which is convenient to the center of town and certainly recommended as a stopover.

Gul Palas is located in a narrow street lined with dim rooms full of men, eating or playing some sort of game. The manager’s office and lounge are separate from the rooms.

After coming from Syria, I still held the image of warmth and hospitality in my mind. This image was quickly shattered. The creepy old man inside the office leered at me after notifying the manager. The young manager arrived in a bad mood, barked at me in Turkish with the attitude, “what the hell do you want?” Didn’t he want my business?

The rooms are next door, up a long, narrow flight of stairs. The creepy old man pointed out the lovely squat toilets, and the shower room featuring a hose. He yelled at me for a while, but maybe he wasn’t, it’s hard to tell with Turkish. I have no idea what his job was, but he skeeved me.

The room itself is pleasant and large, with high ceilings, air-conditioning, and Turkish TV. There was some kind of long American Idol-type/belly dancing contest on late at night, very entertaining. The air-conditioning stopped working my second night, and since it was too high up to investigate and I was too chicken to alert the manager, I never got it fixed.

Squat toilets in general are not particularly pleasant. The ones at this hotel felt worse… possibly just the overall feel of the hotel. Also, going to the bathroom felt like an ordeal—I would peek out, quickly lock my door, RUN to the toilet and RUN back, genuinely uneasy. Luckily, there was a sink in my room. The shower felt dirty, and of course it’s a bit inconvenient to have to hold the hose while washing. At least it was separate from the squat toilets.

Several times the creepy old man appeared at my door, yelling about something. Perhaps he was asking, “how was your day?” but it sounded so harsh. The final time I yelled back. I ALWAYS kept the door locked from the inside.

When I met the owner of Harran and Nemrut Tours, he clucked disapprovingly at my choice of hotels. He professed shock that I found a room in Urfa for 10YTL ($7.50 circa June 2005), extremely low for private rooms in most parts of Turkey. He then told me it was “not a family place,” which in Syria was code for “brothel.” I began wondering about all the men in the vicinity of the hotel and its weird vibe.

But late my second night an actual family did appear, complete with small children and kittens. And when I checked out, the manager finally attempted a stiff smile and said, “thank you” in English.

I can’t give this hotel a high rating because I was pretty uncomfortable there, but my guidebook claimed it was the “best of the rock-bottom cheapies.” That worried me about the other options. Since it was conveniently-located and some of the issues were probably in my head, I wouldn’t necessarily vote against it.

My welcome to Urfa was abrupt. An aggressive taxi driver grabbed me straight off the bus. Feeling too overwhelmed to tell him to back off and let me get my bearings, to even wonder if I should try getting to the city center cheaply by bus instead, I allowed myself to be propelled to his taxi. Later he charged a whopping 7YTL for the brief ride, when I thought I’d agreed to 3YTL.

I felt off from the minute I arrived in Urfa. As people pointed and stared at me and glared in response to my hesitant smiles, I wondered why I had been so all-fired insistent to try a part of Turkey untouched my tourism. (Untouched is a relative term of course, but during the two days I was there I met just one other tourist). Clearly, it seemed to me, the residents preferred that tourists stay away. I had also told myself it was best for me to be somewhere non-English-speaking for a while. As I stumbled around the city in a helpless daze, I again asked myself: why?

I always felt I was being yelled at. Maybe it’s just because I don’t speak the language, but to me Turkish sounds extremely harsh. I started imagining myself as Lisa in the Simpsons episode where she rides the city bus alone and ends up in Little Russia. There, everyone screamed at her, but if she’d understood Russian she would have known they were screaming "HAVE A NICE DAY!" Everyone treated me like some crazy alien being, but maybe I just didn’t get Urfa-style friendliness.

Once I got used to the kids following me and yelling Japanese words, it was actually a pretty enjoyable place to be. The attention was harmless, and just another factor of travel to deal with. There were plenty of affable people in the restaurants, and the owner of Harran and Nemrut Tours was wonderful. A guy running an internet café allowed me to check my e-mail for free. There were winding small side streets to explore. The food was fantastic. And there was the shopping.

I didn’t attempt shopping until I met Urfa’s other foreign tourist, Natalie from Venezuela. Natalie had been in Urfa one day longer than I had, so she was the expert. And while she was actually living in Ankara teaching Spanish, she had been to Istanbul enough times to assure me the merchandise in Urfa was high quality at bargain prices.

In the souk—covered and dense, very Arab-style—we saw beautiful silk scarves and pillowcases, and plenty of rugs. The sellers were not aggressive at all, and in fact often stopped us to chat and share cay. Luckily Natalie had picked up a decent amount of Turkish.

Jewelry was my main goal in Turkey; I love chunky rings and pendants, and since my favorite jewelry store in New York is Turkish-owned, I had high hopes. I was nervous about buying in Urfa rather than waiting for Istanbul, but Natalie assured me the pieces I picked were unique. At 60YTL for both ($45) they were pricier than I expected, but when two less-cool pieces cost me $10 more in Istanbul, I realized I’d done well. The jewelry stores are not in the covered souk but in the modern strip-mall area, window after window filled with silver jewelry.

Urfa is a religious city, and walking down toward the castle (kale) we passed no fewer than 5 mosques. There are others off on side streets. The beautiful complex of mosques on the inviting lake is dedicated to Abraham. Legend tells that Abraham was to be burned at the stake by King Nemrut, but God intervened, turning the flames to water and the firewood to carp.

The lake overflows with fat carp today. The scary thing is the carp literally climb over each other to get at the food thrown by visitors, and many have rubbed off their own skin from this exertion. The carp are deemed "sacred," but it’s hard to tell from the blank stares people direct at the fish whether they are pondering their sacred-ness or simply hypnotized by the motion.

The lakeside park area is a lovely place to pass an evening. The café prices are raised a bit because of the location, but it’s not too bad. Natalie and I spent the evening reading our respective books. It was also entertaining to watch the locals, as it was clearly a popular gathering spot. Families met for dinner, children took rowboat rides and couples smoked waterpipes along the water’s edge.

After the initial discomfort of my first day in Urfa, I found myself wishing I had time to explore its sights by day. Urfa had an unusual feel and after visiting more popular locales in Turkey I had gained new perspective and an appreciation for its character.

Bring your sweet tooth to Gaziantep! There are fried, sugary, syrup-coated things for sale everywhere, in the form of rings, churro-style sticks, balls, rolls…it’s pretty amazing. Some are crispy outside, stuffed with a creamy sugary mass inside. Intense. Walk along any side street and look for the glistening golden-brown delicacies in the open storefronts.

Other pastries are amazing here as well—the baklava I had in Antep was the stickiest and sweetest I’ve had in my life. Bureks, with lamb or spinach or cheese tucked between their flaky layers, were my favorite breakfast.

The delicious traditional-style "K. Maras" or just "Maras" ice cream (dondurma) is widely available throughout the south. Made with salep, dried orchid bulbs, this ice cream has an incredibly dense, stretchy texture and an unforgettable mouthfeel. Average price was .75YTL – 1.5YTL per giant scoop, with chocolate, vanilla, lemon and pistachio being the most common flavors.

Fresh juice is also easily found, the cheapest usually being orange or lemon juice. It’s on par with prices in Aleppo’s juice street, allowing for the exchange rate difference. The options are vast, including sour cherry and melon.

Gozleme is another treat of the central/southern Turkish regions, and while it’s certainly available in Istanbul, it won’t be in every other shop like in Urfa, Antep, and throughout Cappadocia. Gozleme are basically Turkish crepes, with a lovely spongy texture, filled with cheese or meats. In Istanbul, restaurants that serve gozleme tend to put costumed women in the window, displaying them hard at work preparing the pancakes. In Antep it feels real—the restaurants are small and cozy and cater to locals only.

Eat lots of kebabs. Eat kebabs for every meal if you can handle it. Have kebabs with eggplant, have them baked or grilled, have them with yogurt, and PLEASE eat Iskender kebab, a caloric bomb involving thinly sliced doner meat over chunks of pide bread, soaked in tomato sauce and topped with yogurt.

In Antep I met up with someone for lunch, allowing for a shared feast. We ate at the famous Imam Cagdas, a very old restaurant widely respected for its baklava. We stuffed ourselves with 3 delicious varieties of kebabs in one meal, plus my new love lahmacun, like a very thin lamb pizza. Dessert was the heavenly baklava, more than I could finish. It was pricier than expected at 30YTL for two, but completely worthwhile.

Altin Sis is a very friendly restaurant in Urfa, on Sarayonu Caddesi. The Iskender kebab here is excellent. The dish was actually invented in Bursa and is available nationwide, but since I didn’t visit Bursa, I never had its equal outside Urfa. Altin Sis had exceptionally moist doner meat, very flavorful sauce, and the portion was generous enough for two meals, especially with the extra pide thrown in.

The staff of Altin Sis is also very friendly, with at least one English-speaker. They also serve delicious spicy adana kebabs, which are not mouth-on-fire spicy but just full of great flavor, and icli kofte, deep-fried egg-shaped parcels containing spiced minced lamb. The usual price range for these dishes is 5.50 – 7YTL.

You should have a high tolerance for lamb to fully enjoy eating in Turkey. Afiyet olsun!

On my night bus from Goreme, I was surprised to run into Phoenix and Brian, the Dutch/American hippie couple I’d met over beers at the carpet store—a story for my Goreme journal. They were far more unconventional than I, but had also been persuaded by all the Olympos promotion.

Most people might not understand why I resisted the idea of Olympos for so long. The short description of it—beach surrounded by lush mountains, requiring a walk through ancient ruins to reach, and even just the name! Olympos, home of the gods!—sounds appealing, certainly. But I’d been hearing so much about it from tourists, and even ones who loved it admitted it wasn’t really a town, only tourists (but still loads of fun, you know). The idea turned me off.

I was already in Goreme when the serious push started happening—everyone had been to or was going to Olympos, the manager of my pension was close friends with Bayram, who owned a treehouse hotel in Olympos. They constantly asked me how I could so easily discount the place without trying it, which made me feel guilty. Since I’d come up to Goreme from the Southeast, the idea was ridiculously out of my way. But eventually I began to believe that it must be overtouristed for a reason, and had to check it out for myself. I gave up ideas of using my final 2.5 days before Istanbul at Bursa, Bergamum or Safranbolu, and bought myself a 10-hour bus ride to the Mediterranean.

The drive as we approached Olympos was gorgeous. The mountains, the turquoise water in the distance, the road winding through trees—absolutely breathtaking. The long-distance bus only goes to a bus station on the mountain, so we transferred to a minibus to descend to sea level, with more beautiful views along the way.

But it wasn’t all I’d hoped. On all my beach trips on various solo trips, there have been more features than just seawater. There have been reasons to enjoy it alone, whether it’s spectacular snorkeling or colorful locals to encounter, or just the joy of being in an undiscovered cove. I’ve always loved my beach days despite not being much of a beach person.

Olympos has none of this. The scenery really is spectacular. After I took that in, I thought: now what? It’s just the beach, which is crowded. Everyone is a tourist. It's true that it isn't a town, it's just a dirt road flanked by treehouse hotels. There’s nothing to do, which isn’t as relaxing as it sounds.

The first time I strolled through the ruins to reach the water, I thought it was charming and beautiful. Subsequent times I found annoying. Even in Dahab, where I was across the street from the beach, even in Punta Uva, where I was 200 meters from the beach—I was close enough that if I forgot something I could run back to the hotel. This was almost like a mini daytrip, with wading through streams and ducking low branches and guards who actually try to charge admission to the ruins—which, since you’re forced to walk through them, is kind of ridiculous.

The beach itself is all rocks. Not even the pebbly beaches of Dahab prepared me for this—the rocks were pointy and scorching hot. I occasionally looked around at my fellow loungers in wonder. Did they not notice? Each decision to get up and enter the water involved a great deal of pain. Even with shoes on, I had to lie on the rocks and occasionally put my hand down…ouch.

Olympos is essentially couples and large groups of friends. Many groups come on the 4-day Blue Cruise from Fethiye, so even previously-solo travelers have new pals on arrival. Groups litter the rock beach. It’s impossible to break in. Turkish couples are everywhere, every single one playing the game where the man lifts the woman underwater and the woman squeals, each couple believing themselves totally unique.

The vibe of Olympos was noticeable in Bayram’s as well. The only people I really spoke to the whole time were Claudia, also alone, and Phoenix and Brian who I’d met in Goreme.

German Claudia had just graduated from fashion school, which instantly bonded us—it’s extremely rare to meet backpackers from my profession. Turned out she wasn’t a backpacker though, she was on a simple beach vacation in Olympos in a nice private room. Her first couple nights were at Turkman Treehouses down the road, which was only couples. No one would talk to her, so she moved to Bayram’s. I was having trouble seeing a big difference at Bayram’s.

Of course it was hardly all bad, just a bit boring. Part of my problem was my natural tendency to backlash against hype. I overheard so many people at Bayram’s raving about how they come to Olympos every few months, and just love Bayram’s soooo much! To my immense surprise and delight I ran into Natalie, the Venezuelan woman I’d met in Urfa. After sharing so many stories in Urfa, it was so nice to actually meet her husband. They too, agreed that there were many couples of course and the beach was painfully rocky, but also said it was their favorite spot in the whole country.

I felt more relaxed after I met Claudia, and the second morning we wandered an extra 10 minutes to find a somewhat more solitary spot including beach chairs and umbrellas. It was really lovely once we had something comfortable to lie on. The water is luxuriously warm and clear, not as buoyant as the Red Sea but close to it. Bayram’s was a pretty good bargain, with the food provided and not much else to spend on.

The night swimming was excellent, too. I was so excited to swim amongst the phosphorescent plankton of the Med. Unfortunately, the long walk through ruins in the dark means I wouldn’t necessarily recommend going alone, and if I didn’t finally convince Phoenix and Brian to put down the beer cans I would have missed out. The walk requires good flashlights of course, and steeled nerves against many spooky sounds along the way. But once in the water, the phosphorescence is AMAZING. I practically hypnotized myself dragging my shimmering arms through the water. It definitely encourages childlike wonder; the three of us oohed and ahhed each other’s glowing trails and spun in the water with excitement. Incidentally, it’s pretty private at night, fewer people go night swimming than I expected. It’s an ideal spot for skinny dipping, if so moved.

I couldn’t help thinking about a Turkish acquaintance’s advice, which was that there were probably more beautiful beaches in America than Turkey, and I should see something more uniquely Turkish. He was completely correct, but I know I would have wondered about how the turquoise Med compared to my mental picture. The beach won’t be my priority for the next trip to Turkey, but I'm glad I had a pretty well-rounded trip this time around.

My Footprint guidebook for Turkey had an odd map style, although it’s probably safe to assume all Footprint books are the same. The drawings are sort of rounded and cartoony, reminiscent of maps you’d find in zoos. The point is, Harran and Nemrut Tours, an agency less than a 3-minute walk from my hotel, took me a few hours to find.

I had chosen Urfa as a base for getting up to Mt. Nemrut and by the end of the day was feeling desperate—without finding the place I was kind of stuck in Urfa for the evening with nothing to do.

When I finally spotted the tour agency on a small back alley, it was almost 10PM. It was still open, to my great surprise—they had a tour leaving that very evening at midnight! The longer daytime tour that included more smaller sites along the mountain was not running due to lack of interest. Someone else had intrigued me with the idea of going up to the mountain for sunset, camping overnight, and going up again for sunrise. This also wasn’t an option. Because it was slow season, there had not been a tour the previous day and would not be one the next. Luck was on my side.

At the agency I met Natalie, the only other foreign tourist in town. Venezuela native Natalie had been living in Ankara for a year teaching Spanish, and was finally getting ready to go home. With her last few days she took a vacation alone to the southeast while her husband finished up his job in Ankara. It was such a relief to meet her, independence be damned.

The owner was talkative and friendly, suggesting I eat dinner at Altin Sis and get out of my scary hotel right away. When I returned for the tour, he loaned me a photo book of the various Nemrut sights. He offered us some sort of Turkish kunafe-style pastry and plenty of tea.

The tour cost 47.50YTL for a midnight departure in a large, very modern van (compared to the minibuses I’d been riding), with breakfast on the way back down. It wasn’t quite as good as it could have been, though. The Turks on our tour were loud and obnoxious. The van was only comfortable for about an hour. The kind English-speaking owner did not accompany us; instead the alleged "guide" was the driver’s son, an unfriendly, somewhat lazy young man who wanted to be anything BUT a tour guide. He tried his best to ignore me and Natalie, even though she could speak Turkish. And I had been under the impression we would see more of the sights from the book the owner showed me, some of which are detailed in HobWahid’s entry on Mt. Nemrut.

At 4AM, we stopped to rest at the café just below the summit. After some tea and a bathroom break (dark outdoor squat toilets), we headed for the summit. Now we could see a chain of taillights heading up the mountain…we would not be alone for this experience.

From the carpark it’s about 20 minutes to climb to the top. It’s not very steep until the end, but all the rocks make it a bit slippery. The summit itself is artificial and surprisingly tiny, covered with Turkish tourists. We huddled in the morning chill—thankfully Natalie had brought a thick blanket—and watched the gorgeous sunrise over the mountains below.

The ruins are of two shrines to the gods, built by Kommagene King Antiochus I. In reality Antiochus’ kingdom was very small, but his firm belief in his own power and status led him to build colossal statues of himself seated with the gods, his peers. Two sets of bodies are seated in a row, one set facing east and one facing west. On the Eastern Terrace the toppled heads have been carefully arranged in a row before their respective bodies, behind a chain that everyone ignores. The Western Terrace is the more extraordinary side that is featured in most photos, with more bodies, the heads scattered, some tipped over, unencumbered by fences.

Expecting a guided tour, Natalie and I had not prepared by reading more about Nemrut. The dawn scenery was still beautiful from the Eastern Terrace, but both of us were completely unaware of the Western Terrace’s existence. I knew something looked off about the Eastern Terrace, but I couldn’t figure out where the dramatically scattered heads I’d seen in photos would be. I do wish I’d known about the Western Terrace, but I like to believe I’ll get another chance.

The walk back happened at everyone’s own pace, and was much more relaxing than the rush up to catch the sunrise. I was able to take my time and enjoy the solitude and beauty of the mountains.

Breakfast at the café was traditional Turkish, with tomatoes and cucumbers, bread, cheese and honey. I don’t usually like raw tomatoes, but these were so red and fresh, really delicious.

We stopped at a small mosque on the way down the mountain. Our so-called guide didn’t explain a thing, the bus just stopped, and since no one suggested we even get out, most of the Turkish tourists stayed on. Finally I realized this was a long-term stop and got out.

The yard of the mosque was full of cloaked women. As soon as I approached one of their young sons approached me with tea. It was a Saturday, and for the women in the surrounding villages, this was their usual weekend family picnicking spot.

Eventually the sole English speaker came up to me beaming—"you are American? I love Americans!" Her accent was impeccable. She worked on a nearby American army base, and was hoping her daughter would be able to join the American army as well. I was curious why. The woman sadly told me that her daughter had no opportunities here. It was getting more and more expensive to live in Turkey, especially outside of Istanbul, where salaries were lower. I told her I knew Turkey was pushing to join the EU, to which she gave a resigned sigh and said she wasn't ready for that.

She hoped the American army would be a way for her daughter to leave the country, or at least gain skills to start a useful career. Coming from a place where the U.S. armed services are looked on with disdain and blame, it was touching.

There was one last short stop at a dam, completely uninteresting, although maybe if we’d had guidance it would have made more sense. On the way back the young "guide" popped in a video about Mt. Nemrut and its various sites, which was in English. Since no one else would understand it, he muted it and explained it all in Turkish.

It’s possible to get up to Nemrut by hitching or even walking from the one pension located on the mountain, but if you want to guarantee sunrise or sunset arrival, use a tour company. Supposedly admission to the park itself is not included in the tour, but I didn’t see anyone paying extra to enter. Do the trip in the summer because it gets very cold at the summit and may even be snow-covered in spring or autumn.

If you get a chance to go further east, Nemrut is a must-see. The ruins are fascinating, and the view over the Taurus mountains is incredible in the warm morning light. Even without seeing the more striking Western Terrace, I’m so happy I was able to visit this lovely place.