Touring Turkey. Part II

August 13...24, 2015

Lorries in Turkey typically have either metal angle irons or other, more complex structures welded onto their hubcaps. I still can’t see what the point is — seems to me that they’re just there to flicker.

On the back of all the tanker trucks there’s a dashed line around the circumference.

A complex highway sign explaining where trucks are allowed to drive.

Half of the country’s roads are toll roads. There are different acronyms explaining which payment method you can use in which lane. It’s worth noting that you can’t just pay by card or in cash in any given lane. And I still haven’t gotten around to buying that transponder. So I drove around Turkey for two weeks flouting the rules. Funnily enough, I subsequently wasn’t sent any traffic fine notices. This means that the Turks haven’t yet figured out how to send traffic fines to drivers with Russian number plates.

Turkey used to make its own Zhiguli cars (Fiats made under licence here are called Tofas).

Istanbul

Grabbing breakfast in my favourite café before hitting the road.

Karabük

There’s nothing to do here.

Safranbolu

The town is highly touristy and museumified, but pleasant nonetheless.

With traditional Ottoman architecture.

Cross-sectioned beauty.

I landed in a pleasant hotel in the traditional Safranbolu style. The doorway to the bathroom is especially neat.

They’ve tried to maintain the “cosy retro” style right down to the last detail.

A local rubbish bin made to look like a little house.

For some reason this payphone reminded me of Lviv.

Safranbolu facades are so emblematic that they are what almost all of the souvenirs depict.

Passably authentic old woman.

The onion trade.

Great spot.

Sinop

Hearty scenery.

The town is lively.

There’s a fortress wall in the town centre. They haven’t quite forgotten about it, but nor have they done much to preserve it. It’s like the chest of drawers you inherited from your gran in a modern apartment.

Remains of antiquity of some sort.

Small rubbish bin.

Traditional dumpster.

Underground rubbish storage.

— Darling, I am literally calling you from the womb of a dolphin!

Modern, yet cosy.

Plumbing fantasy.

Slumber.

Samsun

Seen from afar (online), this is an utterly unremarkable town. In reality, it’s an amazing monument to modern multi-storey construction. What in Russia turns into insipid suburbia here they’ve managed to turn into a most pleasant town on the Black Sea. Despite the fact that there’s the exact same number of floors, and that it’s all made of the same reinforced concrete.

The town itself is made up almost exclusively of nine-storey buildings, but it takes a while for you to notice this.

Such varied shapes.

Such diverse facades.

At times it seems like this is resort architecture, and yet there’s always at least seven floors.

Even this trendy tram pales in comparison to the unexpected beauty in the background.

Amasya

The town is important due to its history. So it’s better to take a quick look around at nighttime and then drive on.

If you do give into temptation and spend the night, travellers and antiquity lovers will find a replica of the old town awaiting them the next morning.

The river is real, everything else is a tourist trap.

Rubbish bin.

Art piece.

Something about Amasya evokes Lijiang — a place that’s just as ancient and every bit as artificial.

Tokat

It’s the first time I’ve seen LED ribbons attached to traffic light poles. Most probably China’s influence.

This rubbish bin also resembles bins in China.

Divriği

Roads.

There’s a beautiful ancient mosque here that doubles as a hospital.

Мalatya

At first blush this is just an ordinary modern Turkish town. But if you look at it from above you’ll see that it’s special. All of the roofs here are tiled! Locals can do as they please with the awnings, but that’s it. It’s one of the best zoning regulations out there — the end result if awfully beautiful.

There’s also an intriguing trolleybus.