A Midday’s Cappadocian Dream: Part 2 (of 3)
We descended to the car and prepared our packs and our minds for the adventure ahead. On the south side of the town square, each step down the cobble-stoned street turned back the hands of time. Cars were replaced by donkeys eating grass and dried bread; the mild hum of activity from the town square fell all but silent. Winding our way closer to the remains the ancient urban center, a set of dirty stone steps between two walls led downward. They seemed our best bet for direct descent to the valley floor. We walked past reconstructed homes whose facades blended seamlessly with uninhabited rock dwellings. When the people had left, where they had gone, and why they had vacated this paradise setting were unclear, questions further complicated by numbered stone porticos with old wooden doors and the debris of a timeless livelihood. Pointed stone archways led onto the porches of houses dug deep into the rock. Multiple layers of rooms extended inward, left and right. Inside, the light was dim and air musty, the walls cob-webbed and spectacularly dusty. Far from lifeless, the space was heavy with the flutter of small grey, brown and blue moths, who, in their…
