A Few Hours in Rize Turkey: Things To Do in The City and More
Rize was more than a transit town for me. I had arrived in Rize around 11 am from Avanos. Avanos is a sister town of Göreme, where I had been for two nights and three days. Göreme is Capadoccia, the most famous location in Turkey, where you can find tourists from around the world. That is not so true for other places in Turkey.
Göreme was the only place in Turkey where I saw other Indian faces, not that I was looking for them. In Rize, there were only locals; at least, I didn’t see any tourists.
I had had a special bus experience from Avanos to Rize. But more on that in a separate article on the bus journey.
Supposed to arrive at 10 am, I arrived at 11 at the bus station in Rize. It was a small bus station compared to Istanbul or Izmir. The many company counters displayed names such as Kamil Koc, Ali Usman…, Penskale, etc. First, I had to look for a bus to Batumi in Georgia. I had been told that there were frequent buses from Rize to Batumi, and I didn’t need to book one in advance. My plan was to investigate the various companies to find the perfect timing and the right price. The attendant at Ali Usman… in Avanos had told me that the bus would cost 100 liras, but it was available at 3 pm.
I didn’t know whether he was giving the right information, or more like, if he had the right information. The bus offices in Rize told me that the bus to Batumi would cost 290 liras. I thought of taking the bus to the border, and then crossing on foot, and taking another bus or minivan to Batumi. I would save some money that way. But the idea of traveling on one bus, getting down at immigration, and then hopping onto the bus again, as I had done in South America or Southeast Asia, was tempting. I was sure that if they were selling the ticket to Batumi, they would take us to Batumi.
As everyone was selling the ticket for the same price and they all had buses every hour, I went back to the friendlier company. The man there had smiled at me, had given me the information easily, and, when I went back, he smiled again, took my bag, and rushed to help me. I paid 290 in cash, they didn’t take a card, and I told them I would be back at 3. He said 3 pm would work. I didn’t ask him in detail if the minibus would cross the border and pick me up again. I assumed they would do it.
I should have asked.
Leaving behind any worries of exit and entry immigration at the Turkey-Georgia border, I left the bus station to explore Rize. The sun was out, the day was beautiful, and I had my last few hours in Turkey.
I had made up my mind to buy bread and baklava before I crossed the border. Those two had accompanied me in Turkey for a month, and I couldn’t do without a baklava, at least during the first few days of our parting. I also wanted to see this big border city, one that wasn’t on tourists’ lists.
Passing the small eating joints at the bus station, which were many, I looked for fish restaurants on Google Maps. I had enjoyed fried anchovies sandwiches in Izmir, and I kind of missed one. Who knew if I would later find a fish sandwich in Batumi! There were a few places on the map, nothing great or immediately appealing, though. One place was about fifty meters from me, and there were more cafes I could explore. I walked towards this fish place, crossing a supermarket whose vegetable and fruit collection was proudly displayed outside with price tags.
In Göreme, or Cappadocia, I had struggled to find any kind of green or good vegetables. It was a touristy place with supermarkets catering to foreigners who wanted chocolates, bread, soups, ketchup, packed tomato sauces, wine, beer, cold drinks, yoghurt, and so on. The vegetable section of Göreme markets had sad apples, maybe some shriveled cucumbers, onions, potatoes, tomatoes, maybe mushrooms, bananas, and that was where the fresh produce adventure ended. I am sure the restaurants and cafes of Göreme were buying their ingredients directly from outside, and no one was buying fruits and vegetables. And when there was none, how could anyone buy anyway? Once, I had bought a packet of mushrooms, some onions, and tomatoes. The prices were such that a bottle of tomato salsa cost me much less than fresh tomatoes. The salsa was without any preservatives.
In Rize, the first market I crossed had an array of greens, eggplants, chilies, carrots, bell peppers, turnips, and a lot of big fresh juicy strawberries. The strawberries were 150 Turkish liras per kilo, the cheapest I had seen them. I couldn’t buy strawberries to take. They would get squished in the bag. The greens tempted me much, and I thought of buying them perhaps later. Inside the supermarket, it was a regular affair, and I didn’t find anything interesting.
A few steps ahead, the fish restaurant appeared. The white board outside it had some names mentioned on it, but the place looked empty. Probably not even started so early in the day. No one was there. I didn’t even stop. Somewhere else!
Of course, I was hungry. I had a proper meal at three pm the previous day, after which I had had chocolate croissants and the biscuits that you are served on the bus only. They might fill you at the moment, but don’t satiate you. I wanted something hot to eat.
Walking on, I crossed more markets, more grocery shops, and now I was at a town square or something. On my right was a beautiful mosque, and on my left was a clock tower, behind which was an ugly glass building. There was some commotion at the mosque; I think someone’s prayer meeting was being held. There were a lot of pigeons at the square, and locals were everywhere around. It was bustling.
Now I was surrounded by restaurants, buildings, shops, markets, and schools. Parents were waiting outside a school to pick up their kids. All restaurants displayed mostly chicken and meat preparations, as always in Turkey. The few fish restaurants I passed seemed fine dining and would have needed more time and money.
I was loving this regular Turkish city. As I was coming from the remote Southern mountains and the touristic Fethiye, I was delighted to see so many market fairs spread on the road. The vegetable and fruit shops displayed large piles of colorful products on the street side, bakeries were abundant, women were selling greens on the roadside with other local products, and later in markets, I would also see pumpkins, brooms, onions of many kinds, nuts, bundles of garlic, sacks of pulses, trays of eggs, corn, and olives, and other items. This was a vibrant market. People were busy with themselves, and they were noticing me, too. I didn’t think many Indians walked in that city.
My stomach grumbled and brought me to my senses. A baklava shop looked too good to miss, and I wasn’t sure if there would be another one. So I went straight to it, and amongst the three baklava options, chose one. This wasn’t pistachio. I don’t know what it was, but it was 650 Turkish liras per kilo, and I got about 250 grams, I think. Or for 150 liras, I can’t remember. As I was putting the pack in my bag, the lady seller gestured to me to hold it straight and not vertically, and preferably in my hand. I listened to her and held onto the packet. Turkish people were mostly sweet and helpful.
Further on in a bustling market, I entered a busy bakery, proof that locals loved it. Tens of breads were on display. There were many people at the counter, serving the customers. I took my time and decided upon trying a new bread, a large simit, and a small cheese sandwich. The staff was friendly, the boy put everything in a pack for me quickly, following my gestures, and the woman at the cash counter exclaimed, “Aah! Hindistaan?” I said, “Yeah, Hindistaan.” She smiled from ear to ear, and I paid 78 liras with my card and thanked them.
The cheese sandwich was my savior. I started eating it immediately. The pavements were full of people, all busy about their day, but I wasn’t shy. I put the other breads in my bag and held onto the baklava. At this time, it was important for me to remind myself that I couldn’t go overboard. I had limited space in my bag, and to carry things in my hand wouldn’t be easy as I had to go through immigration as well. You should have seen the Turkish people at the border! They were carrying whole supermarkets in plastic bags in their hands. I would understand why they did it later.
Pushing aside the immigration rumble in my stomach, I focused on eating, feeling the warm sun on my tired face. The mosque prayer was echoing through the city, and I rejoiced in the smells of bread mixed with garlic and many other things I couldn’t identify. Now my walk would mostly become a food-buying affair. At another bakery, tempted by their huge cakes, I bought a chocolate bread. They couldn’t work my card, so I had to pay in cash. The cash was for emergencies, you know. And at another shop, where my favorite kind of baklava, which I was told is called keydif was on display. I didn’t think a second before letting myself in through the door.
This long, cylindrical baklava filled with pistachios is the one I had eaten in Istanbul and hadn’t been able to forget. Now it was in Istanbul one piece for some 70 liras, but here I was ready to buy per kilo. The thin attendant at the shop didn’t speak English. He was pleasant. We tried to talk, but couldn’t really. I used Google Translate.
“How much per kilo?”
First, he showed me with his hands, and then he typed in the price in my phone, too.
“Can I get 250 grams please?”
This he didn’t understand, of course. I typed in Translate, and he said, “Yeah, okay.” We also talked about how this one was so good.
He cut the two ends of the long cylinders for me and divided them into two parts. Then he put four in the box, and finally six could fit. He weighed it and put up three fingers to show it would cost three hundred liras, and if it was okay. I looked at the price machine, and I nodded, “Yeah, okay.”
The more the better. Through Google Translate, I told him to pack the baklava well as I had to take it on a bus. He smiled and nodded. He had been making some pastry which had been rolled out very thin on the steel slab. I smiled, and he smiled too. We would have talked more if language permitted. He seemed like a nice guy.
I put this box with the other one and walked out. I was sure I had to put a stop to the purchases now. I had gotten my bread, baklava, and what else did I need?
I hadn’t picked up the usual Turkish loaf that I had been eating, but I was okay with that.
All done, I still had more than one hour. I wanted to eat something hot, but none of the places seemed to have anything that I could eat. No great hot vegetarian or fish options apart from desserts. While walking to the market, I had checked out a dessert shop too. It was selling Sut Lac, the milk pies I had drooled over in Izmir but hadn’t tried. I had tried a supermarket version of that pie in Fethiye, and it was much like the milk pudding we made back home. I wanted something savory and hot. At another restaurant, I checked prices, and the only thing that I could eat, gozleme, which is like stuffed bread with potatoes or cheese or greens or all of it together, wasn’t available.
I gave up. I thought about the pasta I had. Yes, I had saved pasta the previous day in the Capadoccia hostel, and it rested in a box in my bag. I had forgotten about it. So, taking the direction towards the coast, which was basically to cross the road, I found myself in a small road-facing park. This was the best I was going to get. A little child played with her toy car, and her giggles were louder every second. I couldn’t see her parents, but they must be around. I took out my pasta and, in the lack of a spoon, ate it with the simit I had just bought. It is never a bad idea to have some homemade food and bread with you. The girl had made its mission to get on every ride, and she squealed with an innocent pleasure, making my meal more delightful. The weather was cold, and my fingers were freezing but nothing I could do.
After food, I crossed the road by a walkover bridge from which I had great views of the city and the Black Sea, and then walked towards the sea. This wasn’t the best idea. This access to the sea was blocked by nets and stuff. It was so weird that the promenade was right there, its garden right there, but it was blocked from the back side. I couldn’t enter it. I turned around, went back, and from the main road, tried accessing it from another establishment, where I was called in by men.
“Where are you from?” They asked. One old man in particular was very nice.
“Hindistaan.”
“Oh, Hindistan,” he nodded. Then he started to tell me that the entrance further was closed, but I could go. I didn’t understand it that well. This was some fish port or fish unit or something, but when I walked further and exited through their back gate, I found that I was on the same path I had been on earlier. The entry was blocked, and I returned, thanking them. I was close to my bus time, and I had to suffice myself with the Black Sea view from the overbridge only.
No worries. I would get a lot of Black Sea on my onwards journey, as from Rize to Batumi, we drove by the coast. And Batumi was situated on the coast as well.
For then, I hurried to the bus station, crossing the park on my way. It had a free toilet, and I was very happy to use it. Cold water froze my hands, but nevertheless, a free toilet was a big deal in Turkey. hah!
At the bus station, I waited, and soon the minivan was there. My bag was kept at the back. They asked people about who was going where, and then I was made to sit next to an old woman who was very nice, and we sat in perfect camaraderie the whole time.
Thus began my journey to Georgia, with two packets of baklava in my hands and multiple Turkish breads in my bag. Rize had been really good to me, and I would always remember it as the city with street markets, many bakeries, a lot of sunshine, the Black Sea Coast, the friendly people at the plant nursery, and women selling greens on streets like in India. It felt very much like India, with its chaos and vibrant streets, and perhaps that was why I liked it so much.
I would definitely visit Rize again on my next Turkey trip, and enjoy those markets overspilling local food. Hope you enjoy the city too.
Would you love to visit the Rize City in Turkey?
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