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Zirve, İkinci Defa.

This weekend, I headed back to Bursa, back to Uludağ. This time around, I didn’t conquer the mountain on foot, but with two pieces of fiberglass strapped to my feet. That’s right, this time I took the Great Mountain by skis.

Ready to hit the slopes!

Early on Saturday, my fellow travelers and I set out early for the resort area. We thought getting up the mountain from the heart of Bursa, where our hotel was, would be a monumental challenge, but it turned out to be quite easy. We hopped in a dolmuş and we were off!

The ascent was an exciting one. Spring had sprung down in Bursa, but as we climbed the flowers disappeared and the snow slowly collected on the roadside. When we reached the part of the road that snowplows didn’t frequent, the snow collected in the road. Many cars didn’t have snow tires or chains and were slipping and sliding around the hairpin turns. Luckily, our dolmuş driver was a seasoned veteran, who confidently cruised passed the other drivers as they fishtailed across the road. Once we reached the resort area, we learned, to our collective horror, that our dolmuş had neither snow tires nor chains.

After getting outfitted with all the gear we needed, R.O., B.G., C.B., and I hit the slopes, while C.M. and J.W. set off to explore the five-star hotels.

“These bindings seem a little loose. And the poles don’t match.” Such is skiing in Turkey.

We skiers spent the snowy morning getting our ski-legs and figuring out the lay of the mountain. This proved a difficult task, as none of the runs were marked with signage. Although the lifts were numbered on the map, the physical lifts didn’t have any numbers on them and lift attendants (when there were lift attendants) didn’t know what number lift they were operating. Additionally, Uludağ has this strange obsession with T-bars (very European, according to my mother). This made for many exciting games of chicken – when trying to cut across the path of a T-bar that was in the middle of a run; with the small child who had fallen down on the T-bar and couldn’t get up again; with the Turkish snowmobilers, who zipped around the mountain with wild abandon.

Turk-a-lurking to the max.

But these challenges didn’t preclude us from having a fabulous time. It had snowed the night before and continued to snow throughout the day, which meant beautiful, clean, fresh, fluffy powder. Once we reached some of the more advanced slopes, with fewer people on them, we were able to carve up the powder, making fresh tracks in the snow. There is nothing like the pure bliss of being up on the mountain on a virtually untouched trail, cutting through ankle-deep snow. This excellent snow was complemented by an absolutely fantastic lunch — we had the friendliest, most enthusiastic waiter; I had Bailey’s in my hot chocolate; and we spent a memorable hour laughing and cringing at the people taking spills on the crowded beginner’s slope. By the end of the day, we were all tuckered out, but very, very happy.

Our adventures continued apres-ski, with all of the Bursa bests – a massive plate of tender, buttery İskender, and story-telling over pints of Efes at my favorite bar. As always with Bursa, it was good to be back.

Gece otobüsünde

Ugh, why did I choose the 9:30 bus? That was so dumb of me. Now I’m going to get back to Afyon at like 4 am.

But what could I do? The ticket had been purchased, the seat reserved. And at least I started work late on Mondays, so I could sleep for a couple of hours in my own bed. I’d be a little better rested than if I spent the whole night on a bus. So I put on my headphones, cued up Harry Potter (as read by Jim Dale, tabii), and settled in for the seven-hour ride home.

Around 1:45 am, the lights came on, signaling our approach to a bus station. I rubbed my eyes and peered out the window into the foggy night. Kütahya Otogar.

Good, this is the last stop before home. Only about an hour and a half to go. Then I can snuggle in my own bed.

The conductor announced the Kütahya stop, but I didn’t pay much mind to the announcement. I had made this stop half a dozen times. We’d sit here for a few minutes and then be on our way.

Geez…it’s been like 45 minutes. What is going on?!

Then I overhear the conductor talking with another passenger. It’s snowing in Afyon and the road is closed. It’s going to be at least another two hours before we get anywhere. Ugh.

Finally, two sleepless hours later, around 5:00, we pull out of the Kütahya bus station and get on the road to Afyon. I doze off again, only to be woken up again by the lights coming on.

Finally, we’re… At a rest stop in Afyon?! Seriously? We just spent three hours at the Kütahya Otogar and are behind schedule, and we’re stopping? But I’m so close to home…

Luckily, there was a small service bus for those of us who were actually going into Afyon. I squeezed into the clown car with the Afyonlular and we trundled off into the rising sun.

Then the bus took a sharp left turn. I rolled my eyes in impatience, now just wanting enough time to shower before I go into work. The bus inches through the snow-covered streets, only to arrive at the bus station. Really? After dropping off a passenger at the bus station, we took a detour by the university campus, 15 minutes outside of town, before we finally looped back through town. I schlepped home through the two inches of snow that had shut down the highway and the haze of exhaustion that surrounded me, just as the sun broke over the mountains behind me.

Deck the Halls

‘Twas the week before Christmas, when all through the town,

Not a single light was strung, but the snow (kinda) fell down.

In Fatih Apartment, four yabancıs brought some holiday cheer

To celebrate Christmas, or was it… the New Year?

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.

All of our stockings are hung on the “wall” with care.

Santa Claus is coming to town…luckily Myra is so close!