Cappadocia Claustrophobia

Well I learned something new about myself during my Turkish excursion; I have some pretty serious claustrophobia, definitely a legit, close-space-induced panic issue with all of the symptoms you might expect.  My heart raced, my breath was ragged, I felt like a caged, suffocating animal.  I was freaking the f*** out.  Let me throw down some background information and some pictures of Cappadocia before I delve into the gory details of my claustrophobic episode:

The region of Cappadocia, located in east central Turkey, is a pretty incredible place in regards to it's scenery.  Cappadocia's distinctive landscape is the product of volcanic ash deposited by ancient, now dormant volcanoes.  Over the centuries, wind, rain, and rivers have sculpted the rock into a variety of surreal forms, including the famous "fairy chimneys.  "Distinctive" is probably too light of an adjective to describe this place.  I've never seen any naturally formed scenery that comes even close to this place.  My descriptions and even my pictures cannot do it justice.  It's like a hopped up version of the Badlands, literally the Badlands on psychedelic drugs.  Pardon the blasphemy, but I wouldn't be surprised if God had been tripping balls when he sculpted Cappadocia.  Here's a few photos to give you just the palest sense of this place:

Goreme: City in the Rocks

Ash Rock Spires

I love this place.  We've only been here for two days and I could certainly use some more time here.  Taking pictures, scrambling up and down ash rock faces, hiking, exploring: it's all been freaking awesome, and I only wish we could stay here longer.

Now, onto the account of my freak out.  On our first day in Cappadocia, we visited an underground city built by early Christians.  When Arabs and Mongols mounted attacks on the ancient Christian towns of Cappadocia, Christian residents would retreat into these underground strongholds for protection.  I'm not a brutish Mongol warrior or a fierce Arab fighter,  but I am a big dude, and I'm usually a pretty daring fellow.  However, I had a damn tough time braving my way through those caves.  I am proud to say that I made it through our entire tour, but I'm embarrassed to admit that I griped and whined the whole way.  During the tightest squeezes, I had to crouch down to my knees with my shoulders rolled over and my arms held tight to my chest.  In this hunched pose, I shuffled my way through the narrow passages, praying with every panicky breath that the roof of the passage would hold up until I had passed.  My heart was racing, my breath was ragged; I felt like I was on the edge of passing out; I scraped my head and shoulders multiple times; I was convinced that the exit tunnels would collapse leaving me trapped four stories down into the earth.  If I was 20 years older, I would've had a heart attack.  My refrain for the day was, "I don't like this.  I don't like this.  Not cool.  God, I don't like this.  I'm freaking out, man.  I'm freaking out!" etc. etc.  And imagine that refrain sung in a voice soaked with panic, cracking all over the place, tense as steel cable pulled taut between two John Deere tractors.  Here's a set of pics from down in the caves, just to give you an idea of what I was dealing with:

Squattin' (I may look happy, but let me assure you, that's sheer panic you're seeing in my eyes)

Tight Squeeze

The Group Ducking Down (I'm over a head taller than everyone in this photo.  Needless to say, my neck was craned all the way over the whole time we were down in the caves)

I can't say that my experience in the caves was actually a full-blown panic attack, but it was easily one of the most extreme feelings of panic I've ever experienced.  For the most part, I can keep my cool, but not this time.  I'm tempted to attribute my extreme discomfort to the incompatibility between tiny, carved out caves and my own huge body, but I don't think that would be fair to all of the smaller, equally claustrophobic people who may or may not have explored the caves before me with more courage, and probably with far less complaining than I. 

Well, I did survive and I did learn something new about myself as far as phobias go.  I'll tell you this though; I will not be going back down into any underground cities for a long, long time.  My experience didn't kill me, it probably didn't make me any stronger, but it did make me a bit smarter.  Now I know that I need to avoid close quarters of the underground variety at all costs.  I'm lucky I'm young.  There's no way I could've made it through that damn place if I was 40. 

Until next time (barring my death in an underground cave collapse),
Your Favorite Luker