Open up a world of Turkish inspiration with a Cornucopia digital subscription

Buy or gift a stand-alone digital subscription and get unlimited access to dozens of back issues for just £18.99 / $18.99 a year.

Please register at with your subscriber account number or contact

Buy a digital subscription Go to the Digital Edition


The Season Ticket

In the dead of winter, the photographer and filmmaker Annette Louise Solakoğlu takes the long, slow train journey east from Ankara to the borderland where Turkey meets Armenia and Georgia, scanning the frozen vastness of the north Anatolian landscape

  • Snow-capped mountains east of Erzurum, 23 hours into the journey from Ankara to Kars (Annette Louiose Solakoğlu)
  • Left: Emerging above the snow-line in the twisting valley of the Upper Euphrates Right Tunnel vision: the view from the rear window of the end carriage as the train snakes through narrow stone tunnels cut into the ravines of the river gorge. The tunnels date from a brave era of Turkish railway building, pioneered by the Demirağ brothers from Divriği (see ‘A Treasured Shell’, page 59). The Sivas-to-Erzurum line, built in 1933–36, has more than 22 kilometres of tunnel

Click here to read the full illustrated article

In Orhan Pamuk’s novel Kar, a whole city is covered in deep snow. Kar is Turkish for snow; add an ‘s’ and you have the name of the snowiest city in the country. The architecture of remote and far-flung Kars attests to a turbulent history, under the rule of Armenians, Seljuks, Turks, Ottomans… It was annexed by Tsarist Russia in 1878 and retaken by Turkey in 1920. Standing on a plateau 1,768 metres above sea level, close to the border with Armenia and Georgia, once Turkey’s frontier with the Soviet Union, it is blanketed in white for some 120 days a year. Unlikely as it seems, it has become a tourist destination, home to decent hotels and restaurants serving exceptional food, and just a minibus or taxi ride away from the evocative medieval ghost city of Ani, on every visitor’s itinerary.

The most enjoyable way to reach Kars is by train. My husband and I packed Pamuk’s book and two old-world fur caps, which turned out to be essential. Little did we know about winter temperatures that can drop to below minus 30.

The famed Eastern Express, one of the oldest train lines in Turkey, ran from Istanbul to Kars, a trip of around 48 hours. Since 2019 it has departed from Ankara, passing through five Anatolian provinces across some 1,000 kilometres and almost halving the journey time. Thus our journey started at Ankara’s
old train station in the heart of the capital, an Art Deco building from the early years of the Republic.

Just two weeks before, horrific earthquakes had devastated vast areas of southern Turkey and northwest Syria. All the classy sleeper cars of what TCDD, Turkish State Railways, calls the “Touristic Eastern Express” (Turistik Doğu Ekspresi) were sent to Antakya. We felt this was an excellent decision and gladly settled into the regular train.

The compartment, our private quarters for the next 28 hours, had four seats in daytime mode and a small semicircular table by the window. Two young travellers next door were busy decorating their nest with colourful fairy lights and posing for Instagram selfies. The steward welcomed us with a stack of crisp white cotton blankets and pillows. As we left Ankara behind and rolled into the night, we relished the bread and cheese we had brought for supper. The restaurant car serves only basic snacks and tea and coffee, so it is worth getting in supplies before leaving.

Dimly lit streets and sleepy villages went by. Lulled by the gentle rocking of the train, we continued to read Kar for a while, then rolled the seats over and turned them into beds. And I slept soundly, with WH Auden’s poem ‘Night Mail’ running through my head:

Pulling up Beattock,
      a steady climb:
The gradient’s against her,
      but she’s on time.

Stanza by stanza the train chugs up and down hills to deliver longed-for letters from all over the world.

At sunrise we found ourselves in a frozen winter wonderland somewhere between Kayseri and Sivas. After a short stop at the iron-mining town of Divriği, with its exuberant medieval mosque, the train cuts through the gorges of Karanlık Kanyon, literally “dark canyon”. Chiselled into the almost vertical cliff, the track runs directly along the Euphrates, making this one of the most scenic stretches.

After the gorges we whistled through a series of narrow stone tunnels and rolled over the wider parts of the Euphrates valley, where the river meanders gently between softly coloured rocky hills. Seeing the landscape change slowly as you sip a glass of tea is one of the joys of train travel in Turkey.
Next stop: Erzincan. The train came to a halt at the station on the edge of a city hit in 1939 by an earthquake not equalled in magnitude in Turkey until the worst of the recent quakes. We strolled up and down the platform, admired the snowcapped mountains all around and quickly got back on board just as the whistle sounded.

An hour before reaching Erzurum, last stop before Kars, the steward knocked on every compartment door to take orders for kebabs. Erzurum’s speciality is çağ kebabı, marinated lamb cooked on a horizontal spit, which a local restaurant delivers to the platform. Erzurum station, at an altitude of 2,000 metres, was covered in glistening ice. The kebab made for a lovely dinner back on the train. We rolled out of the station and, lit festively by the setting sun, started climbing through the central Anatolian steppe towards Kars…

Click here to read the full article, illustrated with Annette Solakoğlu's stunning photographs of her journey to Kars and the ruins of Ani

To read the full article, purchase Issue 66

Buy the issue
Issue 66, December 2023 Turkey’s Centenary Issue
£15.00 / $19.10 / €17.77
Other Highlights from Cornucopia 66
  • Don McCullin’s Wars and Peace

    The great photojournalist Don McCullin talks to Maureen Freely of the darkness and light that have marked his life and his searingly truthful work

  • The Treasured Shell

    Since the 1940s time has stood still under the pines and palms of this modest Art Deco villa on Istanbul’s Marmara shore. Berrin Torolsan meets Suna Erbil Demirağ, who has fiercely protected it as a tribute to her pioneering father, who carved out a thousand kilometres of Turkey’s railways before building this much-loved haven. Photographs by Monica Fritz

Buy the issue
Issue 66, December 2023 Turkey’s Centenary Issue
£15.00 / $19.10 / 621.95 TL
Related Destinations
Cornucopia Digital Subscription

The Digital Edition

Cornucopia works in partnership with the digital publishing platform Exact Editions to offer individual and institutional subscribers unlimited access to a searchable archive of fascinating back issues and every newly published issue. The digital edition of Cornucopia is available cross-platform on web, iOS and Android and offers a comprehensive search function, allowing the title’s cultural content to be delved into at the touch of a button.

Digital Subscription: £18.99 / $18.99 (1 year)

Subscribe now