Part 8: Hopa: A Little Berlin
At Hopa, the transit highway turns inland to negotiate the
majestic Cankurtaran Pass on the way to Artvin. The 21 kilometers of
coastline that remains between Hopa and the Sarp border gate is a
very scenic stretch of deserted beaches, roadside waterfalls and tea
fields. Until 1988 this was a restricted military zone. With
glasnost, it has now been opened to passenger traffic.
Sarp is a tiny Laz village of maybe 600 souls, clinging to a steep
hillside engulfed in tea fields on the shores of a small bay. In
1921 an agreement between the revolutionary governments of Ankara
and Moscow set the frontier between the two countries at the little
stream that traverses the village. At first the division did not
affect Sarp very much. By the 30s border crossings were made harder;
by the 50s, when Turkey and the USSR found themselves in opposite
trenches of the Cold War, they were banned altogether. A visit to
Uncle Temel down the street now required a 3000-mile journey through
Ankara and Moscow. Prohibitions were issued against shouting
messages and even staring too long across the stream. A special
inflection in the müezzin's call to prayer or a discreet whistle
informed the other side of a birth, marriage or death in the family.
An agreement was reached in 1974 to reopen the border. The Soviets
even built a frontier trading area and a new luxury hotel in Batumi
in anticipation of fat capitalists who were expected to pour in. But
politics intervened, things got delayed and it was only in August
1988 that, finally, the border was officially opened to the
accompaniment of great enthusiasm on both sides.
A survey of opinions on the Turkish side of the fence during the
run-up to the big "Opening" found everyone between Samsun and Artvin
excited about the prospects. The Black Sea region would cease to be
a dead end. Both Turkish and European tourists would come through on
their way to see Russia. One day, God willing, Russian tourists
might be allowed to visit Turkey and shop there. Bilateral trade
would burgeon as in the days when grandfather went to market in
Batumi and Sochi. One worry was voiced in Hopa: the town had
flourished briefly as a transit point during the early years of the
Iran-Iraq war when Iran imported a lot of western goods through this
port. Would Batumi snatch the prize with its much bigger port and
lower port fees, now that Iran was expected to be back in the
market? This apart, history seemed to lend support to great hopes:
the eastern Black Sea had always prospered in periods of increased
northern and eastern trade. What had happened in antiquity, in the
13th century and in the decades before World War I could happen
again.
Not much has happened yet. A few visas were granted for family
visits and transit trucks. Several tour operators began organizing
cross border trips in 1989, though individual ad hoc travel was
still discouraged by the requirement for Soviet visas which could
only be obtained in
Istanbul or Ankara.
The visaless visitor can still make a quick visit to the western
half of the little Berlin that is Sarp and imagine the romance that
the hills across the bay hide from view. The Caucasus, some say, is
the most fantastic part of the Soviet Union to travel in, and
Tbilisi its most charming city. Closer to Turkey, Batumi is said to
offer a genteel 19th century ambience and Gagra, some 250 kilometers
further north, is one of the world's biggest modern beach resorts.
And what seasoned traveler could resist the prospect of a complete
Black Sea tour through Sebastopol, Yalta and Odessa? So apply for
your visas and persevere.
Free Travel Guide of Turkey Pontic
coast: East of Trabzon - Trebizond
Part 9:
Bull wrestling
in Artvin
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