Ankara Adventures With Clive

Last weekend, I went to visit my friend Clive in Ankara.

Clive and I were roommates and coworkers in Yalova and after months of systematically wearing him down, I coerced him into being my best friend in Turkey.  Clive moved to Ankara this fall to get his masters in English Literature at the very prestigious METU.  He’s been keeping a lot of his stuff at my apartment in Istanbul and recently put in a request for his winter clothes and (naturally) about 15 of his books.

So I decided to take the Yüksek Hızlı Tren, the new high-speed train in Turkey, to visit my Eastern Hemisphere BFF.

Having never been to Ankara, I was looking forward to seeing a new part of the country from the train. But when I sat down in my window seat with ample legroom, I saw that it was quickly getting dark. I had forgotten that the sun sets at 4:30 now. Fifteen-minutes into the journey all I could see was my squinting reflection in the black window punctuated by the occasional yellow city lights in the distance. Nevertheless, the journey was extremely comfortable and it was pretty cool to go 250 km/h. After four short hours, I was in Ankara.

Weeee!!

Clive met me at the train station and we set off for the hotel. As Clive lives in the dormitories and the campus is far from the city center, we decided an inexpensive hotel would be a better option. Having spent a year on the same modest salary, Clive and I are both extremely thrifty, especially when it comes to lodging.

Without much thought, I booked a twin room at the cheapest hotel in Ankara, Yavuz Otel. It had a lofty 6.3/10 rating on Booking.com. I skimmed the first couple of reviews and Muhammad from the US said, “I spent a good 13 days [there]. I really love the place, the people who work in the hotel are so nice, and a good breakfast. It was great.” 

We arrived at the hotel and the bellhop took us up to room 504. It was clear right away that we'd made a mistake. The room reeked of flatulence, feces, and fear. In lieu of the standard tacky artwork found it most hotels, the walls were covered in suspicious smudges. The derelict furniture was clearly taken from the side of the road. While the online listing stated that we had a private bathroom, it neglected to mention that the toilet would be shared...with the entire floor.The sheets were starchy, but mercifully clean.

We immediately went out to eat.

This is the best picture I could find.

After a late dinner, we headed back to the hotel.  As we sat on our respective beds, the horror of Yavuz Otel really started to set in.  

I started ranting to Clive saying, “This is the filthiest place I’ve ever stayed!  What were we thinking?  A hostel would’ve been a million times better than this!  What is that stain over there?  This is revolting!  I can’t tell anyone at work about this!  They’ll all laugh and say, “I told you so”.  We’ll probably be murdered here tonight, if the fumes don’t kill us!”

I ran out of breath and put my head in my hands.

It was quiet for a moment and then Clive said, “Cheer up.  At least we have a solid gold wardrobe.”

For the first time I noticed the synthetic wooden wardrobe to my left.  It was covered in uneven metallic spray paint and like everything else in our room, it looked like it should be incinerated.  I turned back to Clive and laughed hysterically for a full two minutes.

We spent the rest of the night watching a honey infomercial and breathing through our mouths.

I woke up in the middle of the night to hear Clive sighing in disgust and rustling his sheets across the room.  I say 'across the room', but it was more like 18-inches from my face.  

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.  Just bleeding all over my sheets.”

“What?”

“I’m fine!”

“Okay...goodnight.”

The next morning Clive explained that he had cut his hand accidentally on the jagged bedside table, resulting in blood speckled sheets.

“Well, if it’s any comfort, I think it’s the least of the room’s problems”, I told him.

Miraculously still breathing, we started our day at Ankara Castle.  I read aloud to Clive from a Turkey application on my phone, “Ankara Castle is a fortification from the ancient or medieval era.  The exact date of construction is unknown”.

“Ancient or Medieval!?  They couldn’t narrow it down??”

“Yeah, no kidding!”, I said as though I were equally outraged.

Clive studied ancient history for his undergraduate degree and can recount in great detail historical events from several millennia ago more readily than most people can recite their phone number.  I lived with him for a year and can say with authority that he spends about 80% of his waking hours reading.

If you don’t have access to Wikipedia, having Clive Campbell within arm’s reach is the next best thing.  Besides, I doubt Wikipedia can describe the Seljuq Turks with such fervor.   

"Wow.  We almost look like friends in this picture", I told Clive.

"Hmmm", he said in a tone that could only mean "that's a problem".

We spent most of the time debating whether or not the fortress could withstand the zombie apocalypse. Although our zombie survival knowledge was based entirely on the first three season of ‘Walking Dead’ and a few blockbuster movies, we agreed that if we were dealing with AMC zombies, we might stand a chance. A couple of the entrances would need to be sealed off, but it should hold. There were a few well-stocked corner stores that could supply enough food for months. However, if it were “28 Days Later” or “World War Z” flesh eating monsters, they would make short work of our fortress and our brains.

"Okay, now take a picture of me.  Hey, the sun is really bright, so count to three and I'll open my eyes."

"One...two...*Click*...three".
"Did you get it?"
"Yeah. It's a good one."

We went to the Museum of Anatolian Civilizations and it was freaking awesome!

Looking good, Clive-O!

Ankara itself has Hittite, Phrygian, Hellenistic, Roman, Byzantine, and Ottoman archaeological sites.  (Thank you, Clive/Wikipedia.)  I hadn’t even heard of the first two before my visit.  As I walked around the museum, I realized that Istanbul’s long and eventful history is very apparent; expansive mosques, ancient churches, and imposing obelisks are all in plain sight. Ankara’s history largely had to be excavated and now resides in the immaculate glass cases of the museum.

An exact likeness of yours truly.

In the US, I'm pretty sure we import the majority of our artifacts. In Turkey, they unearth a fascinating ritual vessel every time they lay down the foundation for a new building (which is often). It was pretty cool to know that almost everything in the museum was acquired within driving distance.

Clive described this as "the first human hamburger".

Best marketing ever!

After a long day of sightseeing and location scouting for the impending zombie apocalypse, we headed back to the hotel.

The smell in our room was significantly worse.  I realized that Muhammad’s Booking.com review was probably written under the pseudonym of an escaped convict who was using Yuvuz Otel as a hideout with the understanding that he would give the hotel a rave review in exchange for refuge.

We sat down for about 20-minutes before I said, "I can't take it.  I'm going to ask for a different room.  This is unbearable."

"No, don't.  It's fine."

"Are you freaking kidding me?  Clive, we will suffocate and someone will come to harvest our organs if we don't leave.  I'm sure they'll let us switch rooms."

"It's okay, really."

“Do you not want me to say anything because of blood on the sheets?”

“Yes.”

I told Clive that every single woman in the history of bedsheets had been in his situation, which seemed to comfort him.   We flipped his linens and I went down to talk to reception.  

They didn't seem surprised when I told them in broken Turkish, "Our room in many bad smell there is". The guy behind the desk obligingly offered to show me another room. The first one was too dirty. The second one was too smelly. I felt like Goldilocks debating which circle of hell would be the most palatable. The third one was just right. It even had its own toilet.

A private toilet, tacky artwork, and a glass of tea.  Clive is happy.

On Sunday we went to Anıtkabir, the mausoleum of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, the first president of Turkey. It's definitely the most important and arguably most impressive monument in Ankara.

Entrance was free, and the grounds also included an interesting museum housing some of Atatürk's personal belongings and chronicling his accomplishments. Over the past couple of years, I've learned a lot about Atatürk and, for the most part, I admire him quite a bit.

We were lucky enough to see the changing of the guards.

After the Turkish War of Independence and the founding of the Republic of Turkey, Ankara became the new capital in 1923. At the time, the city only had about 35,000 residents. Today, Ankara is Turkey’s second biggest city with 4.5 million people. Wowee!

This soldier had his march down!

This soldier had his march down!

I don't know why I pose like this in every picture. I'm open to suggestions for a new signature pose. (My mom says no rude hand gestures.)

After leaving Anıtkabir, Clive and I enjoyed our respective tea and coffee and talked about our near death experiences at Yavuz Otel. As the sun started to set, I headed towards the Ankara Garı.

I said farewell to my friend and boarded the train home to Istanbul.  It was great seeing Clive and I'll see him again soon.  I know this, because I explicitly told him that if he didn't come to my house for Christmas, I would be incredibly upset and in the market for a replacement best friend.