“Whatever you want to pay me for, you can have,” laughs Karim, the masseur, as we sit face to face in Ankara’s historic Karacabey Hamami bathhouse. Both dressed in small towels, Karim wears a grin on his face. I’m here for a thorough skin scrub and massage in the steamy communal room, where the calming atmosphere is occasionally interrupted by the lingering scent of tobacco from other patrons.
I’m about to embark on Turkey’s longest train journey and I need my muscles relaxed and knots smoothed out. Spending an entire day and night on a slow-moving train can be uncomfortable, especially for someone as tall as myself.
Known as the Doğu Express, meaning “East Express” in Turkish, this train route covers a distance of 800 miles between Ankara and the city of Kars. From Kars, it’s a two-hour, 100-mile drive north to Turkey’s border with Georgia. So, not only does the train take you deep into eastern Turkey, but it also offers an adventurous overland route into the Caucasus, a trip that is usually done by flying to Tbilisi from Istanbul for British travelers.
Initially, the Doğu Express route was relatively unknown outside of Turkey, overshadowed by Istanbul as a tourist destination. Eastern Turkey was even more off the radar. However, that changed when travel vloggers started featuring the scenic beauty of the route in their videos, showcasing icy station platforms and enigmatic lakes. This brought attention to the Doğu Express, and tour companies began offering cheap subsidized tickets, resulting in cabins selling out within seconds. The train became a popular destination in itself.
In response to the overwhelming demand, Turkish State Railways launched the Touristic Doğu Express in 2019. This train runs three times a week from December to March, with extended stops allowing passengers to visit places like Karanlık Canyon and the mosaic-filled city of Erzincan. Suddenly, Turkey, not traditionally known for its train journeys, had some of Europe’s most sought-after rail tickets.
“The fairy lights… you can see them in all the Instagram photos,” Sena explains. “It’s our dream to take this train.” Sena, a student from Ankara, invites me into her cabin, shared with her friend Selcan, and shows me the fairy lights they’ve put up. The giggly students attempt to light a candle in the jolting cabin, trying to create a more enchanting ambiance.
As the train chugs through the countryside, moonlight reflects on fields covered in deep snow. I catch glimpses of stray dogs wagging their tails among the trees, their white fur blending with the surroundings. Anticipating a full day of scenic views ahead, my friend and I create a makeshift platform from our cabin’s bunk ladder, balance an iPad on it, and open Netflix.
Since the booking system requires mixed-gender parties to reserve a whole cabin, we ended up buying all four berths. It’s a shame that some berths go unused due to the high demand. Nevertheless, it ensures a night free of snoring.
The heart of a night train is its dining carriage, so I make my way there in the morning. As friendly staff serve kumru sandwiches, made with toasted cheese, tomatoes, and sausages, a group of middle-aged German tourists tells me they flew to Turkey specifically for a tour based around the Doğu Express. They brought a large quantity of gooey baklava from Ankara, which they kindly share with me.
The train not only caters to tourists but also plays a vital role for many Turks, like Ender, a medical student studying in Erzurum. “The plane would be too expensive for me,” he says, taking a break from studying kidneys on his tablet. “The train takes more than 24 hours, giving me time to study. I also love these trips because I get to meet new people.”
The sociability factor also inspired Metin, a “VIP minivan driver and actor,” to take the trip. “I talk to everyone,” he says, sitting beside me. “I’m from Antalya, a very hot city in Turkey. But I like snow – the snow made me come here.” After persuading me to follow him on Instagram, Metin dashes off the train during a stop and buries his face deep into the snow.
As we travel along the Euphrates, surrounded by snowy hills, the river widens as it flows south towards Syria and Iraq. At Erzurum, the jovial atmosphere in the dining carriage is further uplifted by a delivery of kebabs. They bring meals for me and 65 other passengers, ordered from a kebab shop on the platform.
Although the train runs nine hours behind schedule due to engineering problems, the hot lamb kebab almost makes up for it. We finally arrive in Kars at 5 am, 35 hours after leaving Ankara. “All part of the adventure,” I sigh as I drag my wheeled suitcase through the snow-covered streets to my hotel.
The next day, I wake up early to explore Kars’s top attraction, the breathtaking Ani ruins. Just a short drive from the city, these ruins date back 1,600 years and now serve as a ticketed ghost city. The ruins are overlooked by the Armenian border, along the Arpaçay (Akhurian) river canyon, where Russian guards patrol due to the absence of diplomatic relations between Turkey and Armenia. The border has been closed to travelers for many years, only briefly opening for humanitarian aid transport after earthquakes hit Turkey and Syria.
My plan was to continue on to Georgia, a country I fell in love with on previous visits. However, the planned train route from Kars into Georgia is still “under construction.” During peak tourist season, buses run to the BCP Vale border point, but not in winter. Fortunately, a local driver agrees to take me there for a fee of around £90.
This isn’t a border crossing for those with small children or expensive luggage. After queuing with a few chain-smoking truckers at the nearly deserted customs post, I pull my suitcase across a border line marked by brown slush. Some negotiations with an elderly “taxi driver” in a beat-up saloon car get me to Borjomi.
Borjomi, a small rural resort town, is famous for its Borjomi branded sparkling water, often referred to as the San Pellegrino of Georgia. If you’re a water enthusiast, you’ll love Borjomi. In addition to its atmospheric old water-bottling buildings, there are natural thermal spring baths nestled in a nearby forest.
I take a short hike through crunchy snow to reach the outdoor baths, where I strip down to my swim shorts amid the snowy hills. The biting cold turns my nipples into tungsten, but the invigorating experience is worth it.
As I
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