Living low, feeling high

As I descend into the dark, cool emptiness, I wonder at the sacredness of the human beings that once upon a time lived here. Here is the ancient, underground city at Derinkuyu. A hands-on exploration of the past fascinates me, yet I had no idea this exploration would touch my heart and fill me so much with a true appreciation for Turkish culture.

Of the 40 or so ancient underground cities in central Turkey, Derinkuyu is the largest that has been excavated. It has 11 stories, though only 8 of the floors have been excavated. Underground cities are made by volcanic rock, and researchers have discovered that the first inhabitants of Anatolia expanded the openings created by the hardened lava to escape wild animals and survive harsh winters. The underground cities became places for Christians to hide from their Roman persecutors. The early inhabitants built kitchens and bathrooms. They also made places for worship; storage facilities for grains and vegetables; and pens for goats, sheep, cows and chickens.

As I snoop through one of the kitchens, I find myself envying the simplicity of the living quarters while at the same time wondering how anyone could live here. The chairs, if there ever were any, are gone. So is the table. In some of the rooms I can only tell what they used to be because of the modern signage on the wall. The bed is easy to find; it’s dug out of the wall. And the toilet is a hole in the floor. I touch the walls. They are hard and scratchy, and I realize I have to be extra careful as I squeeze my way through the narrow hallways down to the next levels.

My eyes adjust to the darkness, and the occasional cast of the yellow light bulb dangling from a string on the wall warms each small dwelling. As I meander, I begin to enjoy a camaraderie with the folks who lived here thousands of years ago. As I consider these inhabitants hiding out from certain death at the hands of invaders, I feel their terror. As I think about community, however, I feel a coziness and safety that I hope they felt, too. The quietness of the place settles me, and I can feel the grownups taking care of the children. Of the cooking a delicious meal like I had back in the cave I’m staying in in Goreme and of the tucking into bed, again like me in my own cave.

All too soon our time is up. We told the hotel manager who drove us here we would be ready in an hour. How wrong that was; I need more time. This place may be dark and cool, but it is certainly not empty. As I ascend to the surface, I appreciate the fullness of this culture and embrace the bit of Turkey I get to take to my own home.