This parasol has been sat in the middle of our road for the past few weeks. A big summer umbrella wouldn’t last three hours, let alone three weeks, in the same position in the UK before some form of officialdom took an interest.
A few months ago Brandon Fralic emailed from his cave room in Cappadocia to say he had scored a volunteer position we had mentioned on our other site, the Jobs Abroad Bulletin. We told him how the hotel cat gets into his room and, in exchange, he tells us more about his job.
Our guidebook warned us about Tanya*. She worked in a club just off Taksim. The sort of place where, according to the Dangers and Annoyances section of our guidebook, the following might happen:
For many travellers in the late 1960s and early 1970s the journey east really began in Istanbul. Though the hippy trail may have begun in a New York bucket or cross Channel ferry and ended in several places on the sub-continent, such as Kathmandu or Kabul, the route’s choke point was Istanbul.
Turkey’s most popular beer is named after Ephesus. I only mention this because, after an expensive week in Istanbul, my informal accountant had started clamping down on unnecessary spending.
A photo of Selimiye, Turkey.
A happy family man for the past 17 years, he had a normal white, middle class childhood in suburban America and at age nine had a significant encounter with Jesus Christ that still impacts his life today. Though he and his family have already spent many years living in Kazakstan, Uzbekistan and Ankara, they are fairly new residents of Cappadocia and tell us more about living there.
Unlike Latin America or Europe, volunteers looking for pre-arranged or ad hoc volunteer work won’t find the opportunities quite as bountiful in Turkey. Nonetheless, from street art festivals to the ANZAC Day commemorations via organic farming or cave hotel work, the variety of intriguing volunteer options in Turkey makes up for the lack of quantity.
A good little traveller I had turned off my Turkish phone on boarding the plane to the UK. I realised my mistake immediately even though I had made it many months before when I chucked the password in the bin without memorising it.
I wanted to return to Olympos before we had left. We’d been lured there by the idea of living for a few days in a treehouse and though the fairly comfortable reality of this didn’t match the primitive expectation we both fell for Olympos.