He has piercing grey eyes, a strong hawk-nosed profile and a trim beard.

Dressed in dishdashah robes, and wearing a traditional chequered head scarf, (shumag), banded in place with a coiled ogal, he sits astride an Arab stallion, looking for all the world like a bit-actor in Hollywood’s Lawrence of Arabia.

The mountain that is T.E. Lawrence’s inspiration for the title of his Seven Pillars of Wisdom serves as a perfect backdrop.

I’m at the Wadi Rum Visitors’ Centre in Jordan, and the horseman, oblivious to my goggling, is chatting to our bus driver.

A small group of us are about to board three jeeps each driven by Bedouins, (the only ones qualified to navigate the trackless desert), and take off in a convoy through the Wadi Rum which Lawrence once described as “vast, echoing and God-like”.

I’d imagined the desert as a swell of sand dunes stretching endlessly to a distant horizon, but the Wadi Rum is a wilderness of a different sort.

Stunted bushes pock-mark the sandy soil, and gigantic monolithic crags rear up against the sky, their surfaces worn by time and weather into fantastical shapes. Some appear crumbly as insect-bored wood; others are wind-sculpted into clenched fists, or crenellated bastions.

The colours shift from dun to ochre, and in the distance, the rocks fade to a pale grey. The sun brazens down from a metallic sky, and the sand shimmers in the heat haze.

Following the advice of our guide, Ibrahim, the group disperses, each of us seeking to experience this immense wilderness in solitude. I toil up a slope, my feet sinking into the sand, and when I get to the top my fellow travellers are black specks crawling across the tan landscape.

There is nothing but the lonely grandeur of the desert—its breath the wind that whines in my ears, and brushes warm against my skin. Sand flies dart around me, and a little way off, the bleached skull of some small animal lies half buried in the sand.

The interlude ends all too soon, and the convoy takes off again on a roller-coaster ride over the humped dunes.

At our next stop we tumble out of the jeeps to squint against the sun at the oft-photographed Burdah rock bridge arching 35 metres above us. My companions waste little time clambering up the steep, rocky pathway to walk along the bridge while waving and posing jubilantly for my camera.

Our final stop in the Wadi Rum is at dusk, when the cool evening wind spins the sand into miniature dust-devils.

As the sun sinks to the horizon, the sandstone rocks around us are softened into pale mauve, and the desert is transformed into an enchanted fantasy world. The light is bronze, and the distant ranges become navy blue silhouettes against the enormous blood-orange orb now fast sliding out of sight. To my right a wild camel and its baby stand motionless against a rising full moon.

By the time we arrive at our Bedouin camp where we are to spend the night, the sky is a thicket of stars.

Brown canvas tents are arranged in a V with a heavy cloth curtain at each room’s entrance. My candle-lit room, with its double bed is partitioned from my neighbours’ tents by large hanging rugs. At the far side of the camp a row of flush toilets and shower stalls are an unexpected luxury.

Our Bedouin hosts welcome us with glasses of sweet tea followed later by dinner served under the desert sky. We nibble on hummus, baba ghanouj, khubez (roti) as appetizers and a main course Bedouin speciality, Mansaf —tender lamb seasoned with herbs and yoghurt.

A tin-foil moon rises high above our encampment, and we circle a leaping bonfire, dancing to the rhythm of a tabla (drum) and lute. When the flames sink into ashes, some of us, like our Bedouin hosts, sleep on bedding set out on benches in the open.

I wake early, a pale dawn gleaming through my tent curtain. In the breakfast buffet tent, a drop-dead handsome Bedouin pours me a cup of strong coffee. “Did you sleep well?” he asks, flashing a gently flirtatious, dimpled smile. I nod, wishing, not for the first time, that I was forty years younger…

But then, of course, I may never have left!

About the author:

This week Traveling Tales welcomes Margaret Deefholts, an author and freelance travel writer who lives in Surrey, a suburb of Vancouver B.C. Learn more about Margaret at her website www.margaretdeefholts-journeys.com

About the photos:
1: Exploring the vast Wadi Rum desert. Margaret Deefholts photo.
2: Burdah rock bridge. Margaret Deefholts photo.
3: Bedouin camp tents in the Wadi Rum. Margaret Deefholts photo.

For further information visit www.seejordan.org/

Tipping the wide brim of my sunhat down a little further on my brow, I chuckled as his words followed me up the street, “Why you walk so fast lady? Come back. Come back.”

Earlier that morning I had stood alone on the bow of our cruise ship and watched the sun rise like a blood red orange from the Sea of Marmara. In my atlas, this inland sea looked insignificant yet it is the link between two mighty oceans, the Aegean Sea to the west and the Black Sea to the east.

As we approached the busy port of Istanbul, our vessel was surrounded by a pandemonium of water craft. Packed passenger ferries zigzagged across the harbor, fishing boats seemed oblivious to danger while massive oil tankers and heavily laden freighters were bound for Romania, Russia and Bulgaria.

Our ship’s horn blared sotto voce competing with other vociferous vessels. Fellow passengers lined the railings and took in the scene through binoculars. Meanwhile our shipboard commentator calmly informed us that accidents were commonplace because many ships do not take a pilot on board. The waters are international and therefore do not come under the jurisdiction of Turkish authorities.

I fleetingly pondered the details of our lifeboat drill which had taken place a week earlier in Civitavecchia, Italy. However, I took solace in the fact that most nearby water traffic was smaller than our the Galaxy cruise ship.

I was so engrossed in the scenario unfolding before me that I had almost forgotten to look upon Istanbul, the only city in the world built on two continents. Despite being swathed in an ethereal blue haze that covered its face like a veil, I could spot the Blue Mosque with its six minarets and the dome of the famous Agia Sofia.

Later that afternoon my husband and I enjoyed a fascinating visit to both these architectural wonders which are well described in many travel books.

In the early evening our tour bus pulled into one of the entrances to the labyrinthine Grand Bazaar. Before disembarking, our local guide, Tomay, gave us a pep talk about pick pockets, bargaining and how to avoid getting lost in this rabbit warren of alleys and thousands of covered shops.

Despite imaginings that I might be held up by a scimitar- wielding mugger, I thoroughly enjoyed my visit to this Aladdin’s Cave . No-one tried to rob me and the merchants were polite and entertaining. Sometimes we were offered tea poured into tulip-shaped glasses suspended on silver trays.

This is a common gesture of hospitality. After sauntering past kiosks of leather purses, gold jewelry, colorful tiles and exotic belly-dancing costumes, my constraint sagged and I chose two beautiful Pashmir scarves.

The real fun came when I tried to extricate my liras for the purchase. The notes were so tightly encased inside my money belt that my husband finished up paying for the purchase rather than cause further embarrassment.

Our arrival in Istanbul coincided with the first day of the holy month of Ramazan, a time when Muslims do not allow anything to pass their lips between dawn and dusk. This includes food, drink, smoking and even chewing gum.

No wonder many merchants were yawning in the early evening and our tour guide admitted being very thirsty. By the time we exited the Grand Bazaar, darkness had enfolded the city and fairy lights encircling the minarets were lit announcing the end of the day’s fast. Hundreds of people stood in line for a free meal from the Mosque. According to Tomay, it would be close to a three-hour wait.

The tortoise-paced bus trip back to the ship gave us a glimpse into the life of Istanbullus. Modern trams whisked along the streets, jam packed with commuters who were now free to drink bottled water. Traffic snarled along and police controlled busy intersections with whistles and hand signals.

At 7 pm shopkeepers snapped their gates closed and bakeries and street vendors opened up to sell all kinds of pastries made with honey and nuts. Women wearing colorful scarves and several dressed in black chadors waited patiently while a vendor juiced dozens of pomegranates.

Street-side restaurants were packed to overflowing with tiny stools and tables abutting the curb. At this time of night it can take over two hours to drive across the Galata Bridge. With a city of nearly 20 million residents, it is perhaps not surprising. Everyone within sight was eating and I spotted a bus driver using his steering wheel on which to balance his dinner plate.

The following day we visited Topkapi Palace, once the residence of the Ottoman Sultans from the 15th to 19th centuries. This huge place is a series of pavilions and courtyards featuring the Harem, Library, Throne Room and the Exhibition of Imperial Costumes.

One glance into the Weaponry Pavilion exhibiting the brutal looking swords of Selim the Grim was enough to have me scurrying onto the Treasury. Here I goggled at the famous Topkapi dagger with three enormous emeralds and the teardrop-shaped 84-carat Spoonmaker diamond which according to legend was found by a pauper who traded it for three wooden spoons.

Our shore excursion ended with lunch on the rooftop of the World Park Hotel. Here out of sight from most fasting Muslims, we were introduced to a variety of mezes, delicious hors d’oeuvres made of stuffed peppers, cucumber with yogurt, eggplant and humus.

Even though I had only experienced a taste of Istanbul, I was intrigued by this city and hoped that one day I would return.

About the author:

This week Traveling Tales welcomes Canadian freelance travel editor Caroline Jackson, who lives in North Vancouver on Canada’s West Coast. View her website at www.crestlynn.com

Photos by Hamish Jackson:
1: Browsing the markets is popular with visitors.
2: A typical Turkish family strolling the streets of Istanbul.
3: Lots of choices at the fruit stands.

Okay…perhaps not exactly “petrified”, but certainly awfully apprehensive! I’m standing on a rough pathway, and far ahead of me, now disappearing caterpillar-like into a cavernous opening, is the rest of my group. It is dark; the only lights along the way are a series of dim candles inside brown paper bags, lining one side of the path.

This is Petra by candlelight-and something I’ve come half way across the globe to experience. But…”The path is uneven, and it’s easy to stumble and fall,” the guide had said, “so watch your step very carefully.”

I’m cursing my short-sightedness-both literally and figuratively. I’m night blind, have a recent leg injury, and have left my flashlight behind at the hotel. Too far to go back and retrieve it. My group has now been swallowed up inside the black Siq ahead. I stand irresolute, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

One of the security guards approaches me. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

I explain. My voice quavers with disappointment. He peers closer at me. “No problem. I’ll take you with me. Come…” He takes my hand gently in his, and leads the way. He says, “Petra is so beautiful by candle-light…and you have come all the way from Canada…”

He is as good as his word. In some spots where the cobble-stones are rough, he puts his arm around my shoulder. “Slow, slow,” he cautions.

His name is Yousuf, and he is not much older than 25. His family, he tells me, live close to the Syrian border and, intending it as a compliment, he adds that I look like his grandmother! “Same white hair,” he says. “Same nice smile!”

As we wind deeper into the Siq, the towering rock walls close in. The candle-lit path twisting through the narrow canyon is deserted, hushed-and I instinctively fall silent. My companion whispers, “It is wonderful, is it not?”

The Siq, as I’d discovered earlier, was a different world by day. I’d been dazzled by the play of light and shade, the hues of the immense walls of rock face that varied from a glowing peach to orange, gold and turquoise. In some areas, the swirls of coloured stratas did indeed resemble petrified wood. The winding 2 kilometre cleft with its rough 2000 year-old cobblestones had resounded to the clatter of light horse-drawn vehicles carrying passengers who were unable, or unwilling, to walk the distance.

The canyon walls had fallen away suddenly, dramatically. Like curtains being drawn aside from a stage the famed Treasury of Petra stood revealed-in all its rose-hued glory. Although it is the most photographed sight in Petra, it came as a small shock to actually stand in front of it; to take in its enormous size and grandeur.

The Treasury’s function remains an enigma, although one thing is certain: it was never an actual treasury.

However the name “El Khazneh” meaning “Pharoah’s Treasury” perpetuated a myth so persuasive that every passing Arab with a gun in hand, took a pot shot at the urn on top of facade, in the (vain!) hope that its treasure would shower down upon him!

The monument may have been a royal tomb, or a memorial mausoleum-its façade decorated with mythological Nabatean Greek, Egyptian and Roman gods, goddesses, birds and animals, all of which are associated with the afterlife.

When Petra was rediscovered by Swiss explorer, Johann Ludwig in 1812 it was assumed that this was a vast Nabatean burial ground with tombs hewn out of the rock-face.

However, further excavations revealed residential-type cave complexes, several public buildings, and a sophisticated water distribution system-all of which indicated that Petra was actually a thriving Nabatean city of several thousand inhabitants that flourished between 60 BC and 200 AD.

By mid-day, the heat was blow-torch fierce, and the shadows short as I scrunched my way along the hot sandy pathways, map of Petra in hand.

The ancient walled city sprawling over steep hillsides is enormous; far larger than I could cover in a day. The Street of Facades leading off the entrance square took me past a series of royal tombs.

The rock-cut steps are steep and uneven, and I envied my lithe young companions, who unhindered by leg injuries, scaled their way up. Reduced to antlike proportions they crawled along the catacombs, pausing to wave to me from time to time.

A boy leading a donkey eyed me hopefully. “I take you to High Place of Sacrifice?” he offered. The site is reputed to be one of the best preserved ancient sacrificial sites, and I was tempted to accept the invitation. However the group was, by then, on its way down to rejoin me.

We filed along the ancient stone-flagged colonnade (once Petra’s main street), where steps led to the well-preserved ruins of the Qasr Al-Bint Temple. Constructed between 30 BC and 40 AD, it is dedicated to Dushara, the Nabatean god of wine, as funeral banquets apparently involved a goodly amount of imbibing.

The Al Deir “monastery” is second only to the Treasury in terms of impressiveness, and the view across the entire area, is nothing short of spectacular. However, the long hike up 800 rough-hewn steps is not for the faint-hearted or the athletically challenged. I’m both. I consoled myself with the idea of doing the candle-light walk instead.

And so here I am, with my Good Samaritan.

We emerge out of the Siq onto the square where the Treasury glimmers in the light of hundreds of flickering candles. A plaintive Bedouin melody played on a flute wafts on the cool night air. Yousef hands me a cup of honey-flavoured tea.

A full moon creeps across the desert sky and as the music dies away, the audience remains hushed-held in the spell of this splendid and ancient land.

About the author:

This week Traveling Tales welcomes Margaret Deefholts, an author and freelance travel writer
who lives in Surrey, a suburb of Vancouver B.C.

About the photos:
1: In the Siq, en-route to Petra
2: Behold – The Treasury
3: Approaching the Royal Tombs

If You Go:
Royal Jordanian Airlines operates twice weekly non-stop flights from Montreal to Amman on Mondays and Fridays. For details go to: http://www.rja.com.jo/Home/tabid/260/Default.aspx

Getting to Petra:
By bus: Alpha Daily Tours organizes full day tours from Alpha Terminal (Gulf Hotel) in Amman. JETT also operates a fleet of airconditioned coaches to Wadi Musa (Petra) from Abdali Station in Amman
By car: Wadi Musa (Petra) is a 3-hour drive from Amman on the Desert Highway.
By taxi: Negotiate prices (roughly 50 Jordanian Dinars for a one-way trip) before departure.

For more detailed information go to:
www.visitjordan.com/visitjordan_cms/Default.aspx?tabid=90

Where to Stay:
There is a large range of hotels to select from in Wadi Musa. Five star hotels include the internationally known Crowne Plaza Resort and the Mariott Hotel. For the ultimate in luxury the Movenpick Resort Petra Hotel is a winner. For a range of less expensive hotels go to www.visitjordan.com/visitjordan_cms/Default.aspx?tabid=81
which lists hotels by ratings.

Several Canadian tour operators handle trip arrangements to Jordan. See www.visitjordan.com/visitjordan_cms/TourOperators/tabid/55/Default.aspx
for contact details.

General Information:
The climate is generally sunny and cloudless, with temperatures in the range of 25oC – 32oC. Nights can be chilly – take a light sweater.

Women should dress conservatively (sleeveless apparel isn’t appropriate). One or two-piece swim-wear is acceptable in hotels, and on beaches.

The Jordanian Dinar is equivalent to CA$1.52 (varies). Most credit cards are acceptable. Canadian dollars aren’t widely accepted and while U.S. dollars are, smaller shops prefer payment in Jordanian currency.

Tipping is the norm, rather than the exception.
The souks (markets) in Jordan offer a range of modern and traditional crafts. Bargaining is an accepted tradition. Traditional crafts include very attractive glass, ceramics, woven scarves and Bedouin jewellery.

Below our Furat Cham Palace Hotel in Deir ez-Zor, Syria’s northern farming and oil capital, the Euphrates flowed in all its majesty. As I glanced on the waters of this mighty river which had witnessed the birth of civilization, I felt an emotional pull to explore its buried cultures whose history goes back to over 5,000 years.

I was thinking of Mari whose tablets told the story of humankind long before the monotheistic religions came into existence, when I heard my daughter’s voice, “Come! Our driver is waiting. I’m so excited!

I want to see the remains of our ancestors, especially the ruins of Mari.” Quickly I joined her for I too was anxious to explore these historic vestiges close to the Euphrates banks – the spots where humans had first laid the bases of our lives today.

Leaving Deir ez-Zor which had for long been considered in the backwaters of Syria but which has today, as a result of irrigation and oil, has become a booming city, we made our way eastward.

On both sides of the road, the irrigated fields of grain, dominated by corn and vegetables, flourished beside white cotton fields, ready for plucking. In places, from high points on the road, the greenery edging both sides of the Euphrates appeared like a string of emeralds hugged by the brownish barren desert.

Climbing on to a desert plateau, we spotted the wind-worn walls of Doura Europos standing before us – at first sight impressive in their size. A fortified town overlooking the lush irrigated Euphrates Valley on one side and the empty desert on the other, it was once a very important economic and cultural centre in the Hellenistic, Roman, Persian and Palmyran periods.

Today, once inside, the remains are disappointing. Besides its still-standing walls and impressive entrance, little remains of the fortress-town. The most cherished relic found in the partially excavated ruins is a large well-preserved coloured mural found in the city’s synagogue – now exhibited in the Syrian National Museum in Damascus.

Down again along the fields, we soon reached Mari, known locally as Tel Hariri, some 125 km (78 mi) east of Deir Ez-Zor. Flourishing between 3000 and 2000 B.C., the city was destroyed by Hammurabi in 1760 B.C. In the ensuing years, Mari faded into oblivion and, as the centuries went by, it was totally reclaimed by the desert until discovered by André Parrot in 1933.

Mari has long been famous for its excavated mid-third millennium Sacred Enclosure – a royal palace of 300 rooms, halls with courtyards and a hall for officers, decorated with pictographs – now located in Paris’s Louvre.

However, much more has been uncovered, including the Temples of Ishtar, Ishtarat, Ninhursag, Ninni-zaza, Shamash and the Lions; the palace of Shakkanakku; a remarkable water collecting and sewage system, and 20,000 clay cuneiform tablets, dealing with administration, political life of the palace and health. Thanks to these tablets, much of Syro-Mesopotamian history is well documented.

We entered the ruins in anticipation. Before us was a jigsaw puzzle of excavation sites. On a map at the edge of the covered Sacred Enclosure, we could make out some of the excavated spots. Nevertheless, it soon became apparent that, to get a true picture of Mari’s history, a guide was a dire necessity.

Group tours have their guides but if, like us, one is travelling alone a farmer’s family on the edge of the ruins, selling drinks and tickets to the site and, at times, acting as guides, is a good source of information.

As we walked away, we turned to survey the excavated spots whose plaster tiles and packed earth floors are gradually being destroyed by erosion. Yet, even though the rapid deterioration of the past is irreplaceable, in the last few decades, new methods of preservation are greatly improving the chances of saving what is left and those to be excavated in the future.

On the other hand, objects of exceptional quality found in Mari which are not in the Louvre Museum in Paris, are kept in the museums of Aleppo, Deir ez-Zor and Damascus. The finds have contributed much to Mari’s fame.

In addition to the tradition of great wall paintings, no other place in the Mesopotamian area has produced so much amulets, jewellery, pottery, seals, statuettes of goddess, kings and priests; and art objects of exceptional quality.

The site is not only a gold mine of Middle Eastern history but tells the story of humankind.

About the author:

This week, Traveling Tales welcomes Habeeb Salloum, a freelance travel writer/photographer who makes his home in Toronto, ON, Canada.

Photos by Habeeb Salloum:
1: Overview of the Mari ruins.
2: Doura Europus – Gate in the walls.
3: Visitors greeting at entrance to the ruins..

Facts to Know When Travelling in Syria:

1) All foreigners entering Syria require a visa, which is best obtained from an embassy or consulate outside of Syria. Visas are valid for 15 days, but can be extended once inside the country.

2) Convert money only in banks. New exchange rates have eliminated the once thriving black market – currently $1. U.S. equals about 54 Syrian liras in banks.

3) Despite being depicted in some of the Western media as a land full of terrorists, Syria is very safe for travellers – one of the safest countries in the world. Even women travelling alone find few problems. Urban crime that plagues most modern cities is virtually non-existent in Syria.

4) For tourists in Deir ez- Zor, the Fourat Cham Palace and the Badia Cham Hotel are the only places to eat. However, if one is adventurous and doesn’t mind flies interrupting the meal, there are numerous restaurants along the Euphrates River offering barbecued meats.

5) While in Deir ez-Zor, the Deir ez-Zor Museum is a must. One of the best museums in the Middle East, it features 8,000 years of history with fantastic statues, bas-reliefs, jewellery, building implements, hunting weapons, and household utensils.

6) Internet cafes are found in all the major cities in Syria. In luxury hotels the price is from $6 to $7.U.S. per hour; in regular cafes from $1. to $2. U.S.

The Only Places to StayWhen travelling in Northeastern Syria:
The top places to stay in Syria are the Cham Palaces and Hotels – a deluxe chain covering the whole of Syria.
In Deir ez-Zor, the Fourat Cham Palace and Badia Cham Hotel, edging the Euphrates River are the places to stay.
For prices and for reserving rooms in all the Cham Palace Hotels in Damascus and the remainder of Syria, check http://www.chamhotels.com/syria.html .
As well, Chamtours and Chamcar Rentals cover the whole of Syria.

For Further Information, Contact:
Syrian Embassy, Ottawa,
151 Slater Street, Suite 1000,
Ottawa Ontario,
Canada, K1P 5H3.
Tel: 613-569- 5556.
Fax: 613-569- 3800.
E-mail: syrianembassy@on.aibn.com or
Embassy of the Syrian Arab Republic,
2215 Wyoming Ave. N.W.,
Washington D.C., 20008 U.S.A.
Tel: 202/232-6313.
Fax: 202-234-9548.
E-mail: info@syrianembassy

“The sea, once it casts its spell, holds one in its net of wonder forever.
–Jacques Yves Cousteau

A world of wonder is what you find at Turkey’s Black Sea. The region is rich in heritage, in sights, in culture – from stunning landscapes and natural wonders to World Heritage sites – here in all its ancient and mesmerizing glory. Standing on top of Al-Petri Mountain, one may wonder why such an iridescent blue sea is called the black sea. It’s thought that the name was given to it by sailors and pirates who were struck by its dark appearance when the sky turned leaden with storm clouds. Known by another name as well, the ancient Greeks called it the Scythian Sea as they plundered shipwrecks and made wine goblets from sailors’ skulls. Happily, on a recent visit I enjoyed my wine served in a pretty crystal glass as I gazed out over a perfect Blue sea. Reasons to make this your next go-to vacation spot are many. Here are just a few of them:

Ancient History

The coastal town of Amsara, built atop the ancient port of Sesamus, has a Roman bridge, Byzantine city walls, 14 th century Genoese forts and historic mosques; inland is the town of Kastamonu with its 12 th century castle. While there, we made a side-trip to Bafra to view some pretty imposing excavations which date back to the Iron Age Hittite civilization.

Modern History

Samsun is the town where Mustafa Kemal Ataturk drew up plans for what was to become the modern Turkish Republic. The hotel where he stayed honors him in its incarnation as the Gazi Museum, and a villa that once belonged to Ataturk is on the outskirts of Trabzon. There we found colorful gardens with exotic flora: passion flowers, mullein, hornbeam and sweet chestnut.

World Heritage

The Black Sea has some of Turkey’s most scenic World Heritage sites, and one of the best is the town of Safranbolu with its Ottoman konaks (mansions) made of timber and stone. Soon two more landmarks of the region will become World Heritage Sites: the Sumela Monastery and the Genovese Trade Routes’ Trading Posts and Fortifications.

Archeology

Named for the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, Trabzon’s Hagia Sophia dominates the town. It was dizzying to gaze up to the cathedral’s vaulted ceilings soaring heaven-ward and then, look down at the intricate mosaic work beneath our feet. Another celestial experience was journeying to the Sumela Monastery built 4,000 feet up in the cliffs of Mt. Mela. Begun in the 4th century by Greek monks, it was ultimately completed in the 14 th century – a very important archeological highlight of the Black Sea.

Sinop is the only naturally sheltered harbor on the Black Sea, and has been a port for 1,000 years. Here you’ll find the commanding Sinop Castle. It was constructed in the 7 th Century BC with walls 10 feet thick and 100 feet high. Sinop takes its name from the Amazon queen Sinop and wandering through this special town, it still after millennia, exudes warrior-like strength.

Eco-Tourism

A really good way to experience this region is by road tripping. After all, the Black Sea is home to no less than 16 protected nature reserves in the provinces of Artvin, Balikesir, Bolu, Duzce, Samsun, Sinop and Zonguldak. The goal of these areas is to preserve endangered species of flora and fauna. The Highlands here are covered with fir, spruce, cedar, oak and elm trees as well as flowers like snowdrops, wild azalea and forest rose.

Local Culture

The easternmost outpost on the Black Sea is Artvin, famous throughout Turkey for its many festivals celebrating regional cultures and featuring music, food, costumes, dancing and more.

Most festivals take place in late spring, summer and early autumn. This past summer I had the good luck to be in Artvin during a festival featuring such memorable activities as the famed bull wrestling competition. It’s for certain there are not too many places in the world where one can view this extraordinary contest. Mano-a-mano wrestling competitions followed the bull thing but it wasn’t nearly as exciting! A colorful part of this festival is the traditional dance troupes decked-out in vivid, ethnic costumes. While here, add to your not-to-be-missed-list the Karagol-Sahara National Park with its deep forests and glass-like lakes.

Adventure

Lake Uzungol is in Zigana’s Kalkanli Mountains. The lake is extraordinary at 3,200 feet long and surrounded by pine forests and typical village houses that have now become popular with campers, hikers, and fishermen. Near the Georgian border is the rugged Yusufeli conservation area, remote and historic with Georgian and Armenian churches. Feel a need to get out on the water? There’s white water rafting on neighboring Coruh River.

Turkish Tea

In Rize, coffee is a hallmark of Turkish culture, but tea is the essential part of daily life and the town is the center of Turkey’s tea production. I saw vast, terraced plantations of both black and green tea and in a bazaar, a nice Turkish lady made me a cup, taking the time to brew tea leaves in boiling water which she then served me in a delicate, clear glass to show the deep red color and to transmit the heat to my hand.

Black Sea Cuisine

How can we leave out Hamsi? This small fish is similar to the anchovy and in the region it is abundant. In fact, there are no less than forty different dishes made with hamsi, including desserts. Let’s just say it’s an acquired taste and leave it at that. More to my liking, there’s the Akcabat Kofte Hazelnut center in Ordu and in July, it hosts a Golden Hazelnut Festival.

“The trouble with the Black Sea weather is that you can’t trust it,” says Ihsan Cetin, an official in Ankara’s Tourism Ministry, “but if you’ve ever been swimming in this sea, you won’t want to swim anywhere else. Because it is so clear and sweet, you wouldn’t mind drinking it!” Sweet, indeed – the entire Black Sea region. Plan a visit soon.

To Know If You Go:

Turkey Tourist Board – www.goturkey.com

Photos courtesy of Sloane Travel Photography