Antakya, Liverburger.

We left Syria in a service taxi, the same way we had arrived. The taxi took us from Aleppo to Antakya in Turkey, about a 3 hour journey. The night before leaving Aleppo we had found the place where the service taxis leave from and arranged for one at about 8.30am. The next morning we walked the short distance to the taxi stand. Our driver was waiting, luggage stowed we all got in expecting to be off, but we circled the block and stopped again near where we had started. Our driver got out and put something in the boot, Alan thought he heard zips opening so he got out and looked at our bags. The driver had put something in two of the back packs, Brian investigated and found a box of loose tea from Ceylon in each. Because the driver had no English we weren't sure what was happening, he showed us the boxes and sure enough they looked like cellophane sealed boxes of loose tea, they sounded like tea leaves and were light enough for tea. Smuggling tea seemed a bit weird. At the border he seemed more concerned about the Syrian customs inspection than the Turkish inspection. It was like he was smuggling something out of Syria rather than into Turkey. He wanted us to say they were ours and off course we said.. "no, no NO". The boxes were stowed in the boot not in our bags and we went off with a slightly disgruntled driver. We had asked him to stop at a money changer before the border as we all had too many Syrian Pounds left. So we hoped he would not "forget" because we wouldn't co operate over the tea. We eventually got close to the border and he pulled into the money changer, so he wasn't too unhappy. The long line of trucks waiting to cross the Syria/ Turkey border stretched for a kilometer or two, thankfully we didn't have to wait for them, the taxi slid on past them to a very quiet border post.

The Syrian immigration officer could only type with one finger and got a bit mixed up with where our names were and where our place of passport issue was. A bit confusing for someone who reads right to left, we were either all called Wellington or Ward! Then was our country Wellington or New Zealand and by the way where is New Zealand? A bit of laughter later and obvious ribbing from his colleagues we were stamped out ready to leave Syria. Our taxi driver in the mean time was getting a bit agitated at how long it was all taking, we kept an eye on him making sure he didn't get into the boot again. We figured out he wanted to drive through the Syrian border post when one particular officer was there. The favoured officer gave the boot a quick glance and after a quick tap on our bags we were cleared to drive through the gates out of Syria, no doubt to the drivers relief. A little baksheesh had obviously changed hands. We were relieved too that there was no issue over the tea. He stopped again to buy duty free cigarettes before crossing into Turkey. The Turkish customs presumed they were ours, we let that pass but all agreed that there would be no tip when we arrived in Antakya. We figured his tip was using us to earn a little extra with the tea and cigarettes. We later saw the same make of tea for sale in some shops in Antakya, so not sure what the tea thing was all about and we don't really want to know either!

Antakya is a city about the size of Hamilton on the eastern Mediterranean coast of Turkey, very close to Syria and in fact until 1938 was part of Syria. Today it is a passing through point for travelers crossing the Turkey/Syria border and the home to a marvelous archaeology museum full of Roman mosaics. Antakya is also home to the Liverburger. Probably not a franchise that would flourish in New Zealand. We decided to get a night bus onto Nevsehir in Kapadokya. One bus company said yes, his 10pm bus would take us to Askaray, arriving at 6am then we could get a bus on to Nevsehir. We filled in the remainder of the day in the museum, wandering the souq and old city, had leisurely dinner and caught the 10pm bus.

At 4.30 in the morning we were woken up and told , you get out here this is Askaray. There we were standing on the side of the road, not even at an otogar, freezing cold feeling a little shell shocked. After we had gathered our thoughts, dug out our beanies and scarves, we looked around for someone to ask where on earth we had to go to get the bus to Nevsehir. Somewhere along the way between languages we must have got something mixed up. We trailed over to the petrol station across the road and a little man appeared.

"Bus to Nevsehir?"

He pointed across the road where we had just been standing. We spread our hands to ask when, he held up 10 fingers.

"Ahh 10 minutes, do you think he is right?"

"Sure hope so its damn freezing."

So we went back again across the road to wait. We watched several long distance buses go down the opposite side of the road and disappear round a corner and others appear out of that road and come around the roundabout towards us. We decided the otogar was down that road somewhere and if we needed too we could get a taxi there. Although we then realized it was too early for taxis, maybe it wasn't too far to walk. Buses to Ankara slowed, we waved them on then eventually about 20 mins later our little man from the petrol station came over the road, waved a bus down and said , "Nevsehir". Never doubt a Turk, they are always helpful.

Our timing was spot on the bus steward was about to serve a hot drink, very welcome after a cold 20 mins standing on the side of the road. The English speaking lady in front of us helped by telling us the fare and that the bus would take us right to Goreme, no need to change at Nevsehir. We arrived in Goreme just as the sun and hot air balloons were rising, shortly after 6am. The bus man at Antakya did say we would get somewhere at 6am, he just omitted the important part about changing buses at 4.30am in the freezing cold.

6am , too early for hotels to be open. We knocked on the door of Phoenix hotel where we wanted to stay, not a sound no one stirred. We bumped our bags over the cobbles down to where there looked to be some cafes, hoping to find a warm refuge until the Phoenix woke up. The only place open was what I call a men's chai house. Every town in Turkey has these little cafes dotted about, full of mostly elderly men drinking chai, playing backgammon and okey, (a game a bit like dominos) not a female in sight. The only place open so we timidly opened the door and inspite of two of us being female they welcomed us in and shifted places so we too could warm our toes in front of the pot belly stove. In a jiffy welcome hot chai was placed in front of us and we all watched the TV news in Turkish. I figured our chai drinking, toe warming companions had been there since after first prayers at about 5am, the mosque being just across the way.

I've changed my mind about these tea houses, may be they don't mind sharing with woman, just that Turkish woman are too busy keeping the home fires burning to join in the chai drinking, leisurely world of their menfolk. Looking out the window we saw hot air balloons floating silently past the rock pyramids and cave hotels, Kapadokya looked like it would live up to its reputation of a fascinating place to visit.