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The cities grew smaller in the distance as our tour group approached the rocky, otherworldly hills of the Cappadocia region. The road leading to the village of Mustafapaşa passed by herds of sheep and goats, farmers waving to our bus, free range cattle, intricate piles of rocks, golden fields of grass, nomads living in tents, a small pickup truck painted with an evil eye, and 14th-century caravanseray ruins. In the morning Sidar led us on a walk about town. From inside one house we heard a deep moo. Around one corner we came across an outdoor cave house, which Angie nicknamed the desert thieves' hideout. Once inside the mağara (ma-a-RA, cave), Sidar gave us water and Fanta from the fridge bolted to one wall. |
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