Fairies or something else?

While still in Istanbul, I went to the Cemberlitas Hamami because, as my faithful readers know, I like hamams.  I was quite excited to check this one out because it was designed by Sinan, an Ottoman sultan's go-to architect, and built in 1584.  This hamam is swank, folks.  It's not cheap and the clientele seems to be mostly tourists, but they supply you with everything: lockers, sandals, towels, even a new pair of panties, which you keep, of course (and they're not even terrible granny panties). 
The place is gorgeous - multiple levels connected by spiral staircases, the "dry" areas are paneled in gorgeous wood, cushioned seating everywhere, and the main room of the hamam is something.  It's a large round room with a circular, elevated, heated marble platform.  The ceiling above is domed and decorated with circular and star-shaped cutouts.  Around the perimeter of the room, there are individual fountains and basins, all marble.  Have I sold you yet?  If not, wait, there's more!  After you hang out on the hot slab for a bit, then get covered in mounds and mounds of bubbles, exfoliated, massaged and shampooed by one of the stout, half-naked women working there (stout is part of job description, I swear), you then go to the "pool" room, which has a hot tub - bubbles! - as well as a 38 degree (Celsius of course) lounging pool.  When you're done with all that, you can go hang out on that hot marble slab for as long as you like.  And when you think you're going to faint from all the warmth, you retreat into the dry areas where they ply you with beverages.  Thank goodness too, I was feeling a little iffy at the end - sometimes marble slabs can be too warm.  Do you know what else they have at Cemberlitas?  Hair dryers!  I was so excited to use one, which is hilarious because normally I hate blow-drying my hair.   But it felt that one of those formerly everyday luxuries, so I seized the chance.

That was my last evening in Istanbul.  I spent last night on a bus from Istanbul to Gorume, in Cappadocia,  and I'm amazed that I haven't taken a nap.  But immediately after getting off the bus, I was helpfully assisted by one of the tourist information guys, who insisted on buying me tea (caffeine!) and then insisted on taking me to dinner, which awaits me in about an hour and a half.  His idea was to go to something called Turkish Night, but I think that sounds cheesy - all you can eat and drink raki and wine plus whirling dervishes and belly dancers.  But then he countered with "a very romantic restaurant.  I called his very romantic and suggested a little bit romantic.  But now I am thinking that the Turkish Night might be a fun kind of cheese, so I'll see if I can exercise my womanly prerogative and change my mind.

Today, I set off on one of the trails just outside of Goreme, which as far as I can suss out consists of about 2000 people and lots of cafes and hotels built in caves.  Following the signs to a church built into one of these rock cones, I headed up a hill and found the church, one other potential visitor, and one attendant who informed me that tickets to see inside were 8 Turkish Lira.  I knew I'd be seeing more churches of this sort, so I told him I'd skip.  But he indicated that once "these people" left, meaning the one middle-aged guy who drove up there, he'd let me in for free.  Deal.  So I got to see the inside of this church, and it was pretty cool.  The church was built in the 9th century, and the frescoes were done in the 10th, and they are holding up pretty well, considering.  Lots of standard New Testament scenes:  the Nativity, Lazarus being raised from the dead, Gabriel visiting Mary.  After 5 minutes of viewing these on my part and lots of arm touching and comparing me to an angel on the part of the attendant later, I was ready to move on.  But no, I needed to stay and have some tea.  I didn't need tea at all, but I felt for this guy, getting dressed up in a suit and tie to spend most of the day on a rock all by himself.  This job looked boring, and I too would want to have tea with any random semi-nice person in his position.

We were drinking tea in his office, also carved out of rock, natch, and he began to show me a brochure about Cappadocia.  Picture by picture, page by page, he told me the names of things and places, only stopping to take a call on his mobile.  While he was on the phone, I got to thinking about these "fairy chimneys," which are these volcanic rock formations found in this little part of the world (google an image if you like, I can't get a search to load due to a very weak connection).  That moniker sounded like it was coined by an English speaker, so I asked my attendant what they were called in Turkish.  His English, while many times better than my Turkish, had its limits, so I wasn't sure if he understood me.  While we were attempting to communicate, I had a thought that this particular photo of a fairy chimney was mighty phallic.  And then he gave me a phrase that sounded a lot like "penis valley."  I wasn't sure if I was hearing him right or what, but then he turned to a different photo of a different kind of rock formation in a valley and said "ice cream valley," and the photo was indeed reminiscent of those smooth mounds they make in gelato.  As if to drive the point home, he turned back to what I used to think of as a fairy chimney and reiterated "penis valley."  I had heard him correctly and decided it was time to drain that tea and move on, just in case he wanted to resume arm touching.  But I laughed about it the rest of the hike.  It's all in how you see it.  Fairy Chimney v. Penis Valley.  I report.  You decide.