Unusual things remind us of the passage of time on a trip like this. Empty toothpaste and shampoo containers, haircuts, holes in socks and, this week, the comings and goings of eagerly-anticipated rendezvous with friends from home. In terms of the latter, we've managed to cross paths with friends from home every six weeks or so. Each and every one of them count among the absolute highlights of our trip. Our recent visit with the Pontin/Harris family in Turkey was no exception. In just over a week we managed to pack in some amazing experiences and activities combined with a few sumptuously laid back days. Some days we felt like seeing and doing as much as we could. On others, sitting in the sun with a glass of wine, a few mezes and a backgammon board was all we needed. On our last day in Cirali, Dave and I took the kids rock climbing for the afternoon. Our guide, who was a bit too hands off on our Lycian Way hike the day prior, earned his stripes on the rock face. We walked through the ruins of Olympos again and forded a couple of ageless streams to reach our destined climbing spot. After setting up a couple of top ropes and giving us the basics of climbing, we found ourselves clambering up the vertical rock faces and repelling down again and again. The kids proved to be great climbers and even Dave and I hauled our creaky old bones to the top a few times. Learning to push ourselves just a little outside the comfort zone and putting complete faith in our gear was the road school lesson of the day.

We barely had time to eat dinner before a noisy farm tractor turned up at the hotel to escort us down the road on a cushioned hay wagon to see the eternal flames at Chimaera. The sun was just going down as we reached the top of the rough pathway. As night descended, we stumbled over ancient ruins to find a seat on the ground next to one of the five or six fires that have been flickering mysteriously from cracks in the rock for at least 2,500 years. We roasted marshmallows, warmed our hands and toes, made up stories about the source of the flames and gazed up at the infinite heavens as whispers from thousands of years of visitors to this place reminded us of our mortality. "One hundred years, all new people," as the perspective granting adage goes.

Our next stop was Urgup in the heart of the Cappadocia region of central Turkey. It was getting dark as we pulled into town, but it was obvious that this was a very unusual place. Many thousands of years ago this area was covered in hundreds of metres of volcanic ash which eventually hardened into a chalky, layered rock. Rainfall and rivers gradually sculpted intricate valleys through the soft stone, leaving behind the most strange and beautiful landscape. The area is covered with massive, phallic pillars with harder stones balanced precariously atop them. The locals call them fairy chimneys. To my eyes they look like something a Smurf or Barney Rubble might have lived in or a giant wizard's crooked hat. In fact, people have been carving homes, hideaways, churches and hotels out of the pillars and cliffs for thousands of years. Some of the earliest known Christians, fearing persecution by the Romans, built churches deep into these rocks just decades after Christ's death. Many of them were painted with beautiful frescoes of New Testament scenes which can still be enjoyed today thanks to limited sunlight in the caves. Full cities, some eight stories underground, were carved into the rocks where local villagers could seek refuge from invaders. The endless maze of tunnels in these massive cave cities show where people slept, cooked, hung baby cradles, dug impossibly deep wells, stored fresh food and livestock, and made impressive quantities of wine. We have been wandering around the villages of Cappadocia for just about a week now and the otherworldly scenery still hasn't begun to sink in. On the recommendation of my old buddy Eric Toupin, we have booked into one of the popular "cave hotels" for our last few nights. As I write, I can look up and see the marks in the arched ceiling left by the ancient iron tools used to hollow this room out of a quant fairy chimney. The wonders of human ingenuity never cease to amaze.

As mentioned several times in previous blogs, shopping, for me, is as close to pure misery as one can get. With the exception of shopping for fresh food that I plan to cook myself, walking through a mall or big box outlet is as spirit-draining and futile an experience as I've had. In Turkey, however, I have discovered two additional exceptions: candy and carpet. Both are exquisite products of this country. There is a candy shop two doors down from our hotel here in Urgup that specializes in fresh, pastel-coloured Turkish Delight, ornate baklava, dried fruit, fragrant spices and crunchy nuts. Every time I pass by, the shopkeeper waves me in and insists that I take a nibble of anything that catches my eye. He follows me around with a pair of scissors and cuts off a piece of everything I stop to look at. Within minutes his wife brings me out a glass jar of steaming Turkish tea and we are chatting about the use of rose petals, honey, mint and other enticing natural ingredients in the sweets of this intoxicating land. There is never any pressure to buy, nor need there be. It's all irresistible.

The stakes are much higher when it comes to rug shopping. Turkish rugs are known the world over for their beauty, sublime craftsmanship, durability and cultural significance. The simplest of rugs take months to make, each by hand. The lambs wool used to make them is dyed by exotic natural ingredients such as saffron, indigo and pistachio. The dazzling patterns are tied into long cotton or wool strands on a loom with hundreds of thousands of individual, double knots. As the knots tighten and the wool flattens, the carpets get consistently better with age. "Used" or "dowry" carpets are as sought after as new ones. A fifty year old carpet can cost as much or more than one of a higher quality fresh off the loom. Each carpet tells a unique story and expresses the individual hopes and fears of the woman who made it. It took me some courage to walk into the first shop, but as I learn more about this ancient craft and how fundamental the carpets are to Turkish history and culture, I am utterly transfixed. They are each exquisite works of art. We have a short list of about 25 carpets and hallway runners in about five different shops that we would like to purchase, and I am awaiting some sort of divine intervention to help me decide on one, and only one, to take back home. In the meantime, I need to stay away from any more carpet shops. The moment one catches my eye, no matter how hard I resist, I find myself sitting on the floor with a cup of tea, coffee or wine in my hand and a stack of carpets unrolled ceremoniously with a thump in front of me, one atop the other in delicious angles competing for my attention. I think I need an intervention.

A few nights ago we had another bizarre Yellowknife connection. Don Couturier, who has been an intern at my workplace for the last year, contacted me on the blog site a few weeks ago to advise that he would be in Cappadocia around the same time as us. Sure enough, we were staying in the same town on the same two nights he was here. We made plans to meet for dinner on Don's last night. I got the sense from his emails that he was traveling with others, but didn't know with whom. The evening call to prayer was ringing out from the local mosques as I spotted Don and two others waiting for me, as planned, below the town's red lit clock tower. I shook Don's hand and turned to meet his traveling companions when who should I see but his mother, Marie, and sister Annalise! I worked closely with Marie at the City of Yellowknife ten years ago and, until recently, she lived just a few doors down the street from us in Yellowknife. She knew she was meeting up with us, but I was completely and pleasantly surprised to see her. To add to the coincidence, Don, Marie and Annalise were all staying at a hotel that they learned on arrival was owned by someone from Yellowknife. Sure enough, the next day one of the many carpet salesmen I fell under the spell of mentioned that he had supplied the rugs to a local hotel owned by someone named "Butch" from this "Yellowknife" place from which I came. I remember hearing once that long-time Yellowknifer Butch Bisaro had a place in Turkey. Who could have guessed that we would cross paths with it in such an unlikely way.

We are so enjoying Cappadocia that we have decided to hang out here a few extra days while the dust settles on the upcoming national election. The food and culture of this area are fabulous. The local specialty is stew cooked in a sealed clay pot which they break open at your table with a few dull cracks from the back of a knife. Endless baskets of chewy, fresh bread are delivered to soak up the sauce remaining once the meat and vegetables have been devoured. Meals are relaxed affairs. A few times now I have been instructed by service staff to sit down and enjoy tea and dessert before running off somewhere. Resistance is futile. If you don't order it, they will bring it to your table anyway, on the house. Refusing to order sweets for the children after a meal is akin to child abuse here. Everywhere the kids go shop owners and waiters shower them with free stuff. Turkey is a fabulous place to travel with children, but not necessarily for the parents who are trying to maintain some manner of routine and healthy diet.

After a visit to the whirling dervishes and a penultimate game of cards, we bid a sad farewell to Dave, Jen and the kids. We stirred slightly as they made their way to the airport at 5:00 am as the call to prayer rang out eerily in the cool morning darkness. Their departure marks the passing of another milestone on our year long voyage around the world. Only a few more of those to go. While these farewells show us how fast time is passing, in one unexpected way it is standing still. Everywhere we have visited it has been just on the outside fringe of high tourist season. It seems as though we are following fall and now spring around the world. Dave and Jen are having the same experience and it is truly wonderful. The weather is good, business people are happy to see you, nothing is crowded and people are carrying on the every day business of life. I may dedicate a future blog post to the joys of travel in the shoulder season. In the meantime, I'm off to get a haircut, a shave and a few pairs of new socks. Only six weeks until we see the Joyal/Christies in Croatia. Lots more Turkey, Greece and Rome to go before then though! Merhaba from Cappadocia.