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Access Granted: Entering Turkey’s Macahel


Road tunnels of greenery link the hidden villages of Macahel.

Everything is a cloud. Even the dashboard in front of me sweats from the fog in the dolmuş (minibus). The white layer of fuzz on the windows tells of the cold moisture outside hitting the hot shaking glass of the car. My arms are clammy and I can feel stray pieces of hair, dust particles, and breadcrumbs sticking to my face. I can barely see the front of the car, let alone the cliff’s edge that hugs our wheels. Almost teetering over the edge, we slam to a halt, and the 25 people around me gasp in a series of stifled cries. The 17 day-old baby asleep on my lap wrinkles its nose. (more…)

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