Kappadokya (also known as Cappadocia)
Extracts from Frankey’s travel journal while on holiday in the Turkish region…
“What’s the WiFi password?” It permeates rather opaquely through the first handful of days abroad, but it slowly fades into an irrelevant abyss. Any misconceived desire to remain connected to the world is eventually overcome by the pure satisfaction of living in the moment. Everything you need is right here in front of you and this is, at the end of the day, the default human state.
It is the way we lived for millennia before concerning ourselves with the tally of likes and comments against an over-composed, filtered, unartistic shot of one of a million landmarks or tourist destinations around the world, let alone the uninspired mundane image of one of a billion meals eaten every single day. In these moments, your time consists purely of real human connections. No longer are you consumed by the virtual and lifeless interactions with people you’ve barely spoken to, let alone seen in real life for as long as you can remember.
Sitting in a café in Kapadokya, you feel more naturally inclined to strike up a conversation with a random acquaintance, couple, or family about the heat or the view than you might be at a communal table at Red Spice Road. And that’s just the way it is.
The Brazilians call it ‘el amigo superficial’: the fleeting friendships you make on a plane, at a bus stop, on the metro, or while waiting for a free walking tour to start: Kapadokyan life is teeming with this. This is the colourful stitching of life that binds the greatest memories. You form these unique connections that you might otherwise never make. From the unforgettable hospitality of a street vendor to the cathartic conversations of inconsequence, Kapadokya has an unmistakable energy that cannot be found on any other place on Earth.
Cover image by Frankey Chung