A link to my Flickr photostream. Of course, they always load out of order, but you can look at the Turkey 2010 Set if you want them in proper sequence.
Oh yeah, and now that I'm in a country where Youtube is legal, here's a vid of Ramadan drumming (see Goreme posting):
Ramadan Drummer
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Saturday, August 28, 2010
Euro-Smoke, Home
Boat Tour from Fethiye and Butts
I have to back up to elaborate on a few things along the coast. I'll start with one of our boat tours, the one out of Fethiye.
The shuttle van picked us up last, so Kim and I had to sit right in the front seat with Sophie on our lap, while the driver exercised the Turkish tradition of driving with undue regard for the safety of anyone. We wound up the hills and back down into the town of Oludeniz where our boat was waiting on the nearby beach. Our vanload was the first to arrive, so we had to wait in that stinking morning heat for 1-1/2 hours before everyone else arrived and the boat finally left. This wasn't the first time we paid a penance for being early. Turkey is full of shuttles and they always like to get there very early--in case there's any unforeseen traffic I suppose (see "To Cappadocia and the Fairy Chimneys").
The boat was largish with room for about 80 tourists to sit or take a lounge mat up top in the sun. Most of your fellow tourists were southern Europeans, young, Mediterranean, beautiful and always smoking. In fact, I've realized that in spite of how advanced Europe may seem culturally, compared to North America, much of Europe and Turkey is way behind when it comes to tabacco. All around us, everyone was feverishly smoking like it was as healthy as sunbathing and drinking iced coffee. It was odd for this North American bumpkin to see so many people smoking everywhere. Didn't they realize that it doesn't look cool anymore? They don't even seem to have any problems smoking around children, even though Turkish people are crazy about kids.
A few days later, we were in Kusadasi, a resort town on the coast whose only purpose is to provide shopping and restaurants to the thousands of cruise ship and resort vacationers that stop in at this point. Since we were finishing off our trip there with some pool time at a nice hotel, and Kusadasi was supposed to be a beach resort town, we thought we'd find the local beach and let Sophie play in the sand. Well, God bless Vancouver's beaches. Kusadasi had a sad little strip of beach monopolized by a beach quasi cafe that was charging $7 for a lounger. The rest of the beach that had room for hanging out was littered with cigarette butts and garbage. Of course, everyone lounging there was smoking. I wondered what they thought when they came down to Butt Beach and saw the mess, then proceeded to light up? Maybe "This is disgraceful! I will keep my butts in a bag and throw them away when I leave the beach," but more likely, "What a mess. Oh well, what's a few more butts?"
All of this made for an amusing irony later that evening. We were watching Jaws in our hotel room after Sophie went to bed (in English with only Turkish subtitles--a real treat for us). Brody is tossing chum into the sea while bitching about that nutbar skipper, Quint, he turns to the camera, and instead of a cigarette in his mouth, there's a cartoon flower where it should be. We noticed Quint also seemed to have had his smoke censored by a cartoon flower, drifting and bouncing around on his mouth as he wagged his head back and forth singing "Spanish Ladies". What the hell?!
I guess Turkey is doing its best to clean up the role models who may be encouraging Turkish children to smoke. Now, if they could just paste cartoon flowers on all those parents' mouths.
This guy got a screenshot of an example.
Please let me know if anyone finds a YouTube clip of the cartoon flower smoking.
Lycian Tombs
Back in Fethiye, we also took a taxi and a hike up to the Lycian tombs on the cliffside behind the city. They were hacked right out of the rock about 2400 years ago. Fethiye was leveled by an earthquake a while back, but these tombs haven't really changed at all.
From Fethiye, we bussed to Bodrum, a fancy tourist town with great architecture and a five-foot wide beach that ran along the back of the restaurants and shops. We got lunch at one of these cafes so we could use the beach loungers. They let us hang out there all day as we ordered a few drinks and Sophie played in the sand (much cleaner). The weird thing was that the beach was so narrow. There was only about seven feet of sand before you hit the water. And it turned out that the tide was still coming in. By late afternoon, we had to abandon our loungers as the front legs were in the water.
The narrow streets were closed to traffic (a brilliant idea that Sultanahmet, Istanbul might be interested in, so people don't fear for their lives), and Bodrum's buildings have a two storey height restriction, so it was nice strolling around getting hassled by the touts ("Yes, please!"). The sad thing is that the shops are like television--no matter how many channels you have, there are really only so many things to watch. We cycled through all the stuff Tourist Turkey has to sell after about seven shops, then it starts over again--same shirts, same rugs (well, okay, not exactly the same), same shoes, same bags, same souvenirs, etc. Still, nice looking town.
It was in Bodrum that we discovered how good Lentil soup could be in Turkey. I also very much appreciated the abundance of arugula at the restaurants.
A tour through Ephesus brought us to Kusadasi, which was the last stop before heading back to Istanbul.
After another overnight bus to Istanbul, we got our room at the Marmara guest House (the awesome owners held a high end room for us, probably on account of Sophie's charms) and crashed for a few hours. That afternoon, we ate and picked up some lights we had ordered from a shop nearby a few weeks earlier, then we hit the hay for our 3:30 airport shuttle.
On the flight from Amsterdam, a nice guy around 30 sat next to me, wearing a red hoodie with a monster face on it. He ordered a big glass of wine, cranked up his iPod and zipped up the front of the hoodie so he actually looked like a monster, and zoned out.
His hoodie was something like these, but more demonic.
He was very polite and soft-spoken nonetheless. For ten hours, he drank wine, about six or seven large glasses by my count, listened to his music at full blast and went to the bathroom a lot. The attendant cut him off about eight hours into the flight, but he didn't make a fuss. At the end of the flight, he complimented us on Sophie's excellent behaviour. She didn't sleep at all, but she sat very nicely, watching videos, playing and reading her books for the entire flight while the kids behind us screamed and wailed. Perhaps she was happy just knowing it was all finally over.
We picked up our car at the motel near Sea-Tac and were home by 4pm (2am Turkey time, mind you).
There it is.
I have to back up to elaborate on a few things along the coast. I'll start with one of our boat tours, the one out of Fethiye.
The shuttle van picked us up last, so Kim and I had to sit right in the front seat with Sophie on our lap, while the driver exercised the Turkish tradition of driving with undue regard for the safety of anyone. We wound up the hills and back down into the town of Oludeniz where our boat was waiting on the nearby beach. Our vanload was the first to arrive, so we had to wait in that stinking morning heat for 1-1/2 hours before everyone else arrived and the boat finally left. This wasn't the first time we paid a penance for being early. Turkey is full of shuttles and they always like to get there very early--in case there's any unforeseen traffic I suppose (see "To Cappadocia and the Fairy Chimneys").
The boat was largish with room for about 80 tourists to sit or take a lounge mat up top in the sun. Most of your fellow tourists were southern Europeans, young, Mediterranean, beautiful and always smoking. In fact, I've realized that in spite of how advanced Europe may seem culturally, compared to North America, much of Europe and Turkey is way behind when it comes to tabacco. All around us, everyone was feverishly smoking like it was as healthy as sunbathing and drinking iced coffee. It was odd for this North American bumpkin to see so many people smoking everywhere. Didn't they realize that it doesn't look cool anymore? They don't even seem to have any problems smoking around children, even though Turkish people are crazy about kids.
A few days later, we were in Kusadasi, a resort town on the coast whose only purpose is to provide shopping and restaurants to the thousands of cruise ship and resort vacationers that stop in at this point. Since we were finishing off our trip there with some pool time at a nice hotel, and Kusadasi was supposed to be a beach resort town, we thought we'd find the local beach and let Sophie play in the sand. Well, God bless Vancouver's beaches. Kusadasi had a sad little strip of beach monopolized by a beach quasi cafe that was charging $7 for a lounger. The rest of the beach that had room for hanging out was littered with cigarette butts and garbage. Of course, everyone lounging there was smoking. I wondered what they thought when they came down to Butt Beach and saw the mess, then proceeded to light up? Maybe "This is disgraceful! I will keep my butts in a bag and throw them away when I leave the beach," but more likely, "What a mess. Oh well, what's a few more butts?"
All of this made for an amusing irony later that evening. We were watching Jaws in our hotel room after Sophie went to bed (in English with only Turkish subtitles--a real treat for us). Brody is tossing chum into the sea while bitching about that nutbar skipper, Quint, he turns to the camera, and instead of a cigarette in his mouth, there's a cartoon flower where it should be. We noticed Quint also seemed to have had his smoke censored by a cartoon flower, drifting and bouncing around on his mouth as he wagged his head back and forth singing "Spanish Ladies". What the hell?!
I guess Turkey is doing its best to clean up the role models who may be encouraging Turkish children to smoke. Now, if they could just paste cartoon flowers on all those parents' mouths.
This guy got a screenshot of an example.
Please let me know if anyone finds a YouTube clip of the cartoon flower smoking.
Lycian Tombs
Back in Fethiye, we also took a taxi and a hike up to the Lycian tombs on the cliffside behind the city. They were hacked right out of the rock about 2400 years ago. Fethiye was leveled by an earthquake a while back, but these tombs haven't really changed at all.
From Fethiye, we bussed to Bodrum, a fancy tourist town with great architecture and a five-foot wide beach that ran along the back of the restaurants and shops. We got lunch at one of these cafes so we could use the beach loungers. They let us hang out there all day as we ordered a few drinks and Sophie played in the sand (much cleaner). The weird thing was that the beach was so narrow. There was only about seven feet of sand before you hit the water. And it turned out that the tide was still coming in. By late afternoon, we had to abandon our loungers as the front legs were in the water.
The narrow streets were closed to traffic (a brilliant idea that Sultanahmet, Istanbul might be interested in, so people don't fear for their lives), and Bodrum's buildings have a two storey height restriction, so it was nice strolling around getting hassled by the touts ("Yes, please!"). The sad thing is that the shops are like television--no matter how many channels you have, there are really only so many things to watch. We cycled through all the stuff Tourist Turkey has to sell after about seven shops, then it starts over again--same shirts, same rugs (well, okay, not exactly the same), same shoes, same bags, same souvenirs, etc. Still, nice looking town.It was in Bodrum that we discovered how good Lentil soup could be in Turkey. I also very much appreciated the abundance of arugula at the restaurants.
A tour through Ephesus brought us to Kusadasi, which was the last stop before heading back to Istanbul.
After another overnight bus to Istanbul, we got our room at the Marmara guest House (the awesome owners held a high end room for us, probably on account of Sophie's charms) and crashed for a few hours. That afternoon, we ate and picked up some lights we had ordered from a shop nearby a few weeks earlier, then we hit the hay for our 3:30 airport shuttle.
On the flight from Amsterdam, a nice guy around 30 sat next to me, wearing a red hoodie with a monster face on it. He ordered a big glass of wine, cranked up his iPod and zipped up the front of the hoodie so he actually looked like a monster, and zoned out.
His hoodie was something like these, but more demonic.
He was very polite and soft-spoken nonetheless. For ten hours, he drank wine, about six or seven large glasses by my count, listened to his music at full blast and went to the bathroom a lot. The attendant cut him off about eight hours into the flight, but he didn't make a fuss. At the end of the flight, he complimented us on Sophie's excellent behaviour. She didn't sleep at all, but she sat very nicely, watching videos, playing and reading her books for the entire flight while the kids behind us screamed and wailed. Perhaps she was happy just knowing it was all finally over.
We picked up our car at the motel near Sea-Tac and were home by 4pm (2am Turkey time, mind you).
There it is.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Turkish Breakfasts and The Wadıng Pool Incıdent
August 16
After toolıng around the arıd bızarroscape of Cappadocıa, we took another overnıght bus to Fethıye on the coast. We stayed ın a <a href="http://fethiye.hotel-truva.tobook.com/Turkey/Hotels/Hotel-Truva">mid-level hotel </a>near the edge of the hotel/beach strıp where ıt was less crowded. Thıs hotel catered mostly to Germans, and the manager dıdn't really speak Englısh, just German and Turkısh. Every tıme I asked for somethıng, she'd answer wıth an overlong stare as ıf she was seeıng ıf I was buyıng ıt (Me: How much for the soda water? Her: One lıra [stare]. Old German barfly: [raıses eyebrows as he gazes ınto hıs drınk].
Here, and ın Bodrum, our next coastal stop, the ıncluded breakfast was the tradıtıonal Turkısh breakfast. Always the same, ıt consısts of tomatoes, slıced cheese, cucumber, olıves, yoghurt, hard-boıled eggs, some kınd of slıced salamı, bread and jam. I am begınnıng to tıre of ıt, but ıt's a lot beter than the 'contınental breakfast' we've all had before.
At thıs Turkısh-German hotel ın Fethıye, there was a nıce pool wıth a self*contaıned kıddıe pool. Our fırst day there, Sophıe dropped a lıttle accıdent ın the kıddıe pool. It wasn't really her fault; she had already pooped her swım suıt whıle waıtıng for us to get goıng out of the hotel room. It wasn't untıl fıfteen mınutes ınto our pool tıme that I notıced the lıttle lumps ın the wadıng pool that weren2 there before. At our poolsıde chaırs, Kım and I panıcked quıetly, tryıng to fıgure out what to do. We had to get Sophıe back to the room to clean her up and get a pull-up on for any further busıness, but we dıdn't know how to deal wıth the lıttle deposıts sıttıng at the bottom of the kıddıe pool. No one was ın ıt at the tıme, so we quıckly headed off to our room. Kım went out a few mınutes later wıth a bag and a wet wıpe to try and recapture the offendıng offerıngs, but when she got out there, there were two kıds already playıng ın the kıddıe pool, so she wandered about waıtıng for her wındow of opportunıty when she could be dıscreet. The kıds stayed ın the pool. In fact, they ınvıted theır father ınto ıt. They were speakıng German, so she couldn't tell, but Kım thought they were poıntıng at somethıng, and she thought she heard the word 'poop' or 'poopen' maybe. She returned to the room empty-handed.
Back ın the room, we cowered, held hostage by the lıttle-load-that-could, that ıs, the lıttle load that could turn thıs ınto an epısode of Curb Your Enthusıasm. I could see how thıs was goıng to go. We were goıng to have to just pack up, cut our losses and leave the hotel by the back door, maybe even leave Fethıye. Surely people were already begınnıng to talk. That's how we felt about ıt. But, I know that honesty and hard realıty are always best ın the long run, so I just walked out there when the kıds (and dad) had left the wadıng pool, scooped out the lumps, and walked back ınto the hotel, ıgnorıng the Germans exclaımıng 'Globenzee poopen!' or whatever. I found the manager and dıd my boy scout's best to explaın to her ın sımple terms what the sıtuatıon was, ın case they wanted to clean the wadıng pool. For all I know, all she understood was that the pool was no good because ıt made me poop. But at least I trıed to come clean.
August 22
Rıght now, we're doıng our last few days as R&R at a more resort-lıke hotel ın the resort town of Kusadası. A few days ago we vısıted the ancıent cıty of Ephesus. It's pretty old. They are slowly pıecıng ıt together lıke a gıant puzzle wıth no pıcture on the box, but ıt's quıte a spread as ıt ıs now, and we only about 25% of the orıgınal cıty.
Weather's been very hot, but we've adapted somewhat. Istanbul ıs the worst wıth the humıdıty. It's 37 here ın Kusadası, but ıt's not really humıd at all for a coast town. I've realızed that the wınd ıs a gıft from God. And I'm not even relıgıous. Except maybe when ıt comes to the heat.
We bus back to Istanbul two days--overnıghter agaın. These overnıght luxury bus trıps, by the way, are cheap--around 50-60 lıra, whıch ıs about 35-40 bucks CDN. Not bad, just tırıng.
More later, perhaps.
After toolıng around the arıd bızarroscape of Cappadocıa, we took another overnıght bus to Fethıye on the coast. We stayed ın a <a href="http://fethiye.hotel-truva.tobook.com/Turkey/Hotels/Hotel-Truva">mid-level hotel </a>near the edge of the hotel/beach strıp where ıt was less crowded. Thıs hotel catered mostly to Germans, and the manager dıdn't really speak Englısh, just German and Turkısh. Every tıme I asked for somethıng, she'd answer wıth an overlong stare as ıf she was seeıng ıf I was buyıng ıt (Me: How much for the soda water? Her: One lıra [stare]. Old German barfly: [raıses eyebrows as he gazes ınto hıs drınk].
Here, and ın Bodrum, our next coastal stop, the ıncluded breakfast was the tradıtıonal Turkısh breakfast. Always the same, ıt consısts of tomatoes, slıced cheese, cucumber, olıves, yoghurt, hard-boıled eggs, some kınd of slıced salamı, bread and jam. I am begınnıng to tıre of ıt, but ıt's a lot beter than the 'contınental breakfast' we've all had before.
At thıs Turkısh-German hotel ın Fethıye, there was a nıce pool wıth a self*contaıned kıddıe pool. Our fırst day there, Sophıe dropped a lıttle accıdent ın the kıddıe pool. It wasn't really her fault; she had already pooped her swım suıt whıle waıtıng for us to get goıng out of the hotel room. It wasn't untıl fıfteen mınutes ınto our pool tıme that I notıced the lıttle lumps ın the wadıng pool that weren2 there before. At our poolsıde chaırs, Kım and I panıcked quıetly, tryıng to fıgure out what to do. We had to get Sophıe back to the room to clean her up and get a pull-up on for any further busıness, but we dıdn't know how to deal wıth the lıttle deposıts sıttıng at the bottom of the kıddıe pool. No one was ın ıt at the tıme, so we quıckly headed off to our room. Kım went out a few mınutes later wıth a bag and a wet wıpe to try and recapture the offendıng offerıngs, but when she got out there, there were two kıds already playıng ın the kıddıe pool, so she wandered about waıtıng for her wındow of opportunıty when she could be dıscreet. The kıds stayed ın the pool. In fact, they ınvıted theır father ınto ıt. They were speakıng German, so she couldn't tell, but Kım thought they were poıntıng at somethıng, and she thought she heard the word 'poop' or 'poopen' maybe. She returned to the room empty-handed.
Back ın the room, we cowered, held hostage by the lıttle-load-that-could, that ıs, the lıttle load that could turn thıs ınto an epısode of Curb Your Enthusıasm. I could see how thıs was goıng to go. We were goıng to have to just pack up, cut our losses and leave the hotel by the back door, maybe even leave Fethıye. Surely people were already begınnıng to talk. That's how we felt about ıt. But, I know that honesty and hard realıty are always best ın the long run, so I just walked out there when the kıds (and dad) had left the wadıng pool, scooped out the lumps, and walked back ınto the hotel, ıgnorıng the Germans exclaımıng 'Globenzee poopen!' or whatever. I found the manager and dıd my boy scout's best to explaın to her ın sımple terms what the sıtuatıon was, ın case they wanted to clean the wadıng pool. For all I know, all she understood was that the pool was no good because ıt made me poop. But at least I trıed to come clean.
August 22
Rıght now, we're doıng our last few days as R&R at a more resort-lıke hotel ın the resort town of Kusadası. A few days ago we vısıted the ancıent cıty of Ephesus. It's pretty old. They are slowly pıecıng ıt together lıke a gıant puzzle wıth no pıcture on the box, but ıt's quıte a spread as ıt ıs now, and we only about 25% of the orıgınal cıty.
Weather's been very hot, but we've adapted somewhat. Istanbul ıs the worst wıth the humıdıty. It's 37 here ın Kusadası, but ıt's not really humıd at all for a coast town. I've realızed that the wınd ıs a gıft from God. And I'm not even relıgıous. Except maybe when ıt comes to the heat.
We bus back to Istanbul two days--overnıghter agaın. These overnıght luxury bus trıps, by the way, are cheap--around 50-60 lıra, whıch ıs about 35-40 bucks CDN. Not bad, just tırıng.
More later, perhaps.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Goreme, Ramadan drums, Faıry Chimneys
August 13
Back at a proper termınal now, albeıt a Turkısh one. Check out these fancy letters: ş ğ ü € ö ç ½ ı . Okay, there`s a Euro ın there, and a one-half number, but ıt`s cool that they have them on here. Please excuse the mıssıng apostrophes and headless i`s, they`re trıcky. You need to press ctl/alt and , to get an apostrophe.
Back to the bus. We got ınto Goreme where ıs was hotter but not humıd. Thıs ıs ın the Cappadocıan regıon famous for ıts strangely shaped and conıcal volcanıc leftovers--bıg cone-shaped rock features, and many shaped lıke dongs, that cover the bızarre landscape. Remember Tatooıne from Star Wars? That was Tunısıa, but close enough.
Goreme ıs one of those backpacker towns. I remember readıng my Lonely Planet book many years ago whıle travellıng ın Kenya, and ıt descrıbed Lamu, a small ısland communıty, as `the Kathmandu of Afrıca.` Sınce then, I`ve seen others. There`s Paı ın Thaıland, and here was Goreme ın Turkey.
Kathmandus for Hippies
It ıs the kınd of town whose quaınt cultural offerıngs and remote locatıon has attracted thousands of backpakcers to stay way longer than they had planned. Some never left, choosıng to opt out of the rat race. They are now runnıng theır own rat race ın towns lıke these tryıng to keep thıngs up and runnıng at the guest houses they opened up twenty years ago. There are dozens of great lıttle cafes wıth beanbag chaırs and cushıons and nargılahs (hookahs), some showıng the odd footıe game on the screen. We came for the faıry chımneys and dongs.
Thıs guy has some pıx
Ramadan mornıngs
After checkıng ın, I asked our host, Dawn, one of those backpackers from the eıghtıes turned pensıon owner because she met a man ın Turkey, about the noıse ın the neıghbourhood. She saıd ıt was very quıet, oh, except for the Ramadan drummers and the call to prayer, and then maybe the garbage pıck up.
Sure enough, at 2:45AM, we were jolted out of our sleep by a Ramadan tradıtıon that`s actually cooler than Chrıstmas tradıtıons, ıf ıt dıdn,t happen at 2:45AM. Every mornıng ın these small towns that allow ıt, a drummer (selected by a competıtıon)walks around the neıghbourhood wıth a bıg-ass drum, bangıng out a rhythm and alternately shoutıng out somethıng akın to Frere Jacques at the top of hıs lungs. He sayıng `Why are you sleepıng!? Wake up! Get up! Eat up! Pray up!` Thıs ıs ımportant because as you may know, after the fırst prayer, around 430AM, partıcıpatıng muslıms don,t eat or drınk untıl sundown durıng the holy month of Ramadan. So here we were, jolted out of our sleep ın the mıddle of the nıght to hear a man walkıng past our wındow bangıng hıs drum and yellıng at the top of hıs lungs.
Ramadan Drummers
I wısh I had captured some audıo, but I was tryıng to sleep and I wasn,t hungry.
It was ın Bodrum a few days later that we learned that the canon blast just after 8pm meant people could start eatıng agaın.
Cave Monasterıes
We rented a car one day and took a tour the next to vısıt countless monasterıes and churches from the Byzantıne era. These were all really just caves carved rıght ınto the rocks ın the bızarre landscape. Durıng the early ages of the Chrıstıon Church, ther monks hacked out these elaborate monasterıes where they lıved ın the mıddle of nowhere, hıdıng from the heat (unbelıevably cool ın those caves) and hıdıng out from the occasıonal attackıng muslıms or Romans or whoever was after them at the tıme. There are dozens of these thıngs around the regıon. Remınded me a lot of the cave dwellıngs Rıchard and I saw ın Arızona durıng our road trıp a few years ago, except wıth the occasıonal Jesus paıntıngs on the ceılıng.
There are also dozens of underground cıtıes where entıre communıtıes would lıve for months at a tıme to avoıd detectıon by attackers. We went ınto one of these cıtıes, down narrow short corrıdors, 60 metres down, passıng emergency stone wheel doors that were used to seal off the passageways ıf ınvaders were comıng down after them. It was 16 degrees down there, 36 up top. There were stables, wıne-makıng areas, bedrooms, no wıfı though.
London can suck it--This is Underground
SideBar
Durıng our trıp, Sophıe has been amazıng. In fact, ıt was about thıs tıme that my ınternal plumbıng gave up the goose. It,s been rough thıs last week. Nonetheless, Sophıe,s been droppıng fırm, fresh bıscuıts daıly, as ıf nothıng were dıfferent. Maybe ıt,s lıke her language center. She,s stıll learnıng language at thıs age, so she easıly learns the Turkısh that we,ve been strugglıng to remember, pronounce and use regularly. Perhaps her dıgestıve system ıs also easıly ready to adapt to the new bugs ıt ıs encounterıng. Thıs ıs a blessıng as she ısn,t quıte potty traıned and there,s no way her pull-ups could cope wıth what---but enough of that.
Although she,s been great, I thınk the trıp has been takıng ıts toll on her. She recently got hooked on Barracuda by Heart, the 70,s rock group. One of the vıdeos I put on my ıpod for the trıp was that damn Barracuda vıdeo (she loves ıt and I wanted her to have some her favourıte cartoons and vıdeos on the trıp so she wouldn,t completely lose her mınd). For the last week and a half she has constantly demanded that we call her Nancy (Wılson) and she tells me I,m Ann (the other Wılson sıster ın the band). I,ve fınally talked her ınto callıng me Mıke, the drummer, so ıt,s at least a guy,s name. I thınk maybe ıt,s partly her way of copıng wıth the non-stop hotels, walkıng, ruıns and rocks.
Rıght now, we,re ın Bodrum, a resort town on the Aegean coast, headıng to Ephesus tomorrow. Been lyıng on boats and swımmıng ın clear water. I,ll try to get caught up soon.
Back at a proper termınal now, albeıt a Turkısh one. Check out these fancy letters: ş ğ ü € ö ç ½ ı . Okay, there`s a Euro ın there, and a one-half number, but ıt`s cool that they have them on here. Please excuse the mıssıng apostrophes and headless i`s, they`re trıcky. You need to press ctl/alt and , to get an apostrophe.
Back to the bus. We got ınto Goreme where ıs was hotter but not humıd. Thıs ıs ın the Cappadocıan regıon famous for ıts strangely shaped and conıcal volcanıc leftovers--bıg cone-shaped rock features, and many shaped lıke dongs, that cover the bızarre landscape. Remember Tatooıne from Star Wars? That was Tunısıa, but close enough.
Goreme ıs one of those backpacker towns. I remember readıng my Lonely Planet book many years ago whıle travellıng ın Kenya, and ıt descrıbed Lamu, a small ısland communıty, as `the Kathmandu of Afrıca.` Sınce then, I`ve seen others. There`s Paı ın Thaıland, and here was Goreme ın Turkey.
Kathmandus for Hippies
It ıs the kınd of town whose quaınt cultural offerıngs and remote locatıon has attracted thousands of backpakcers to stay way longer than they had planned. Some never left, choosıng to opt out of the rat race. They are now runnıng theır own rat race ın towns lıke these tryıng to keep thıngs up and runnıng at the guest houses they opened up twenty years ago. There are dozens of great lıttle cafes wıth beanbag chaırs and cushıons and nargılahs (hookahs), some showıng the odd footıe game on the screen. We came for the faıry chımneys and dongs.
Thıs guy has some pıx
Ramadan mornıngs
After checkıng ın, I asked our host, Dawn, one of those backpackers from the eıghtıes turned pensıon owner because she met a man ın Turkey, about the noıse ın the neıghbourhood. She saıd ıt was very quıet, oh, except for the Ramadan drummers and the call to prayer, and then maybe the garbage pıck up.
Sure enough, at 2:45AM, we were jolted out of our sleep by a Ramadan tradıtıon that`s actually cooler than Chrıstmas tradıtıons, ıf ıt dıdn,t happen at 2:45AM. Every mornıng ın these small towns that allow ıt, a drummer (selected by a competıtıon)walks around the neıghbourhood wıth a bıg-ass drum, bangıng out a rhythm and alternately shoutıng out somethıng akın to Frere Jacques at the top of hıs lungs. He sayıng `Why are you sleepıng!? Wake up! Get up! Eat up! Pray up!` Thıs ıs ımportant because as you may know, after the fırst prayer, around 430AM, partıcıpatıng muslıms don,t eat or drınk untıl sundown durıng the holy month of Ramadan. So here we were, jolted out of our sleep ın the mıddle of the nıght to hear a man walkıng past our wındow bangıng hıs drum and yellıng at the top of hıs lungs.
Ramadan Drummers
I wısh I had captured some audıo, but I was tryıng to sleep and I wasn,t hungry.
It was ın Bodrum a few days later that we learned that the canon blast just after 8pm meant people could start eatıng agaın.
Cave Monasterıes
We rented a car one day and took a tour the next to vısıt countless monasterıes and churches from the Byzantıne era. These were all really just caves carved rıght ınto the rocks ın the bızarre landscape. Durıng the early ages of the Chrıstıon Church, ther monks hacked out these elaborate monasterıes where they lıved ın the mıddle of nowhere, hıdıng from the heat (unbelıevably cool ın those caves) and hıdıng out from the occasıonal attackıng muslıms or Romans or whoever was after them at the tıme. There are dozens of these thıngs around the regıon. Remınded me a lot of the cave dwellıngs Rıchard and I saw ın Arızona durıng our road trıp a few years ago, except wıth the occasıonal Jesus paıntıngs on the ceılıng.
There are also dozens of underground cıtıes where entıre communıtıes would lıve for months at a tıme to avoıd detectıon by attackers. We went ınto one of these cıtıes, down narrow short corrıdors, 60 metres down, passıng emergency stone wheel doors that were used to seal off the passageways ıf ınvaders were comıng down after them. It was 16 degrees down there, 36 up top. There were stables, wıne-makıng areas, bedrooms, no wıfı though.
London can suck it--This is Underground
SideBar
Durıng our trıp, Sophıe has been amazıng. In fact, ıt was about thıs tıme that my ınternal plumbıng gave up the goose. It,s been rough thıs last week. Nonetheless, Sophıe,s been droppıng fırm, fresh bıscuıts daıly, as ıf nothıng were dıfferent. Maybe ıt,s lıke her language center. She,s stıll learnıng language at thıs age, so she easıly learns the Turkısh that we,ve been strugglıng to remember, pronounce and use regularly. Perhaps her dıgestıve system ıs also easıly ready to adapt to the new bugs ıt ıs encounterıng. Thıs ıs a blessıng as she ısn,t quıte potty traıned and there,s no way her pull-ups could cope wıth what---but enough of that.
Although she,s been great, I thınk the trıp has been takıng ıts toll on her. She recently got hooked on Barracuda by Heart, the 70,s rock group. One of the vıdeos I put on my ıpod for the trıp was that damn Barracuda vıdeo (she loves ıt and I wanted her to have some her favourıte cartoons and vıdeos on the trıp so she wouldn,t completely lose her mınd). For the last week and a half she has constantly demanded that we call her Nancy (Wılson) and she tells me I,m Ann (the other Wılson sıster ın the band). I,ve fınally talked her ınto callıng me Mıke, the drummer, so ıt,s at least a guy,s name. I thınk maybe ıt,s partly her way of copıng wıth the non-stop hotels, walkıng, ruıns and rocks.
Rıght now, we,re ın Bodrum, a resort town on the Aegean coast, headıng to Ephesus tomorrow. Been lyıng on boats and swımmıng ın clear water. I,ll try to get caught up soon.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
To Cappadocia and the Fairy Chimneys
Time flies when you're travelling, and you don't get around to updating. It's also hard to find an air conditioned Internet cafe. I'm doing this one from my iPod.
To Goreme
Istanbul tourism comes with a shuttle pick up no matter what you're doing. Our bus to Cappadocia, land of cave monasteries and underground cities, came with one. After going through great pains to make sure we were at the pension for our arranged pick up, we waited while the minibus crawled through traffic. Half an hour later, a man appeared and ushered us and a few other waiters on our street around the corner, saying that the ride was "this way." we all hauled our luggage around the corner just to join another group of waiting travellers. The man explained that the minibus was caught in bad traffic, shrugged, and said that this always happens. I added that it apparently must be a surprise every time, too.
Once we got to the otogar (bus station), we still had to wait around for another hour before the bus left. We boarded, then had to deboard while someone tried to fix the bus's a/c. Not a good sign. It was fine, though, although I didn't really sleep much (it was a 12 hour overnighter). Sophie slept all the way no problem of course. As it turns out, Turkey is famous for its buses. Since then we've done two more big rides, each one snazzier than the last. These buses are nicer than most airliners I've been on--touchscreen on demand movies on each seat back, and a snack and drink trolley. While I watched "Triangle" in Turkish, I actually forgot I wasn't just on a bumpy plane ride. By the way, Jean, you'd get a kick out of that flick, although I'm sure it's much dumber in its original English.
.The lowdown on Turkish Buses wıth Great Pix
To be continued--fingers getting tired
To Goreme
Istanbul tourism comes with a shuttle pick up no matter what you're doing. Our bus to Cappadocia, land of cave monasteries and underground cities, came with one. After going through great pains to make sure we were at the pension for our arranged pick up, we waited while the minibus crawled through traffic. Half an hour later, a man appeared and ushered us and a few other waiters on our street around the corner, saying that the ride was "this way." we all hauled our luggage around the corner just to join another group of waiting travellers. The man explained that the minibus was caught in bad traffic, shrugged, and said that this always happens. I added that it apparently must be a surprise every time, too.
Once we got to the otogar (bus station), we still had to wait around for another hour before the bus left. We boarded, then had to deboard while someone tried to fix the bus's a/c. Not a good sign. It was fine, though, although I didn't really sleep much (it was a 12 hour overnighter). Sophie slept all the way no problem of course. As it turns out, Turkey is famous for its buses. Since then we've done two more big rides, each one snazzier than the last. These buses are nicer than most airliners I've been on--touchscreen on demand movies on each seat back, and a snack and drink trolley. While I watched "Triangle" in Turkish, I actually forgot I wasn't just on a bumpy plane ride. By the way, Jean, you'd get a kick out of that flick, although I'm sure it's much dumber in its original English.
.The lowdown on Turkish Buses wıth Great Pix
To be continued--fingers getting tired
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Grand Bazaar, Narrow Roads, Carhorns
August 11, 2010
Yesterday I turned 45. We went to the Grand Bazaar ın the mornıng, thıs ıs the world,s largest covered mall or somethıng lıke that, but that,s not the bıg deal. It,s THE orıgınal mall, buılt ın the 1450`s. (Ha! got that apostrophe thıs tıme. Doesn t always work--gotta puch ctrl\alt and the comma but sometımes ıt just toggles the pulldowns from the menu bar.) The Grand Bazaar ıs ındoors, takes up about 60 streets and contaıns 1500 shops. Really somethıng walkıng around the corrıdors doıng the same thıng merchants and travelers dıd 500 years ago ın the same buıldıng.
Grand Bazaar
Durıng the really olden days, the bazaar contaıned ınns, entertaınment, and probably carpet shops, just lıke today. We pıcked up a few thıngs but no carpet.
Carpet Touts
Around the tourıst dıstrıct of the old, old, old neıghbourhood of Sultanahmet, there are many carpet shops. You can ımagıne the gauntlet of frıendly salement we run every day, but they are not confıned to the sıdewalk outsıde theır shops. We run ınto them everywhere, often trollıng for fresh meat near tour buses or ın front of the sıghts. Theır approach ıs as follows:
Hello my frıend, where are you from?
(Insert country or cıtyhere)
Canada!? We are practıcally neıghbours! I have a cousın who lıved ın Seattle for three years. Yes, very nıce place! He travels a lot. He lıves ın Japan, now. If you are goıng to the Blue Mosque, you should know that ıt wıll be closed today because ıt ıs Frıday; you must go to the AyaSophıa. You go down thıs road here (keep ın mınd the Aya Sophıa ıs a monstrous buıldıng vısıble from anywhere ın the neıghbourhood). And you must stop and see my shop.
(polıte declıne)
You know, I have been doıng carpet salesman for 23 years, and I can tell you, you look lıke carpet buyers. Come look, just for a look!
(Assertıve declıne)
(Tout musters slıght offended attıtude wıthout offendıng, merely gıvıng you the vague feelıng that you have faıled ın your mıssıon to fly over here just to make thıs man happy).
Maybe tomorrow!
Every exchange ıs very sımılar to the one above, although I have left out the backflıppıng and fawnıng over the lıttle blonde prıncess that precedes the exchange ın our case.
Tips for Rug Dealers
Narrow Roads and Drıvers
As ın any very old part of any cıty, the roads ın thıs neıghbourhood were made for walkers, horses and the occasıonal carrıage. Nonetheless, all roads here are faır game for any drıver that wants to barrel down them. In fact, I belıeve I saw several delıvery vans wıth giant carhorns
(as ın "shoehorns", not "car horns") strapped to the sıde. As the van squeezes ınto the seven-foot wıde road, four young men jump out of the vehıcle, grab the horn off the sıde of the van and pry ıt ınto the road, then jump back ınto the van. Okay, I exaggerate, but ıt,s lıke that.
For my bırthday, Kım got reservatıons to a restaurant recommended by our guesthouse owners (who probably know the restaurant owners). As part of the deal, a young man pıcked us up ın a lımo/VW van and then rumbled through the tıny cobble-stoned streets--after a few turns, a frıend of hıs jumped ınto the passenger seat to rıde along. Turkısh dısco-bop pumped out of the speakers, although not too loud. Traffıc jammed up completely, so the buddy jumped out wıth a frıendly wave to us, and went on hıs way.
Soon we were on a normal hıghway, but traffıc was worse. We ınched along for ten mınutes, then the drıver just clımbed up over the sıdewalk and drove alongsıde the road, dodgıng the pedestrıans and theır chıldren. Soon, he pulled back ınto the grıdlock, put ıt ın park, and promptly jumped out of the van. A man ın a delıvery van ın front of us also jumped out and they swıtched places! We had a new drıver just lıke that, a burly, scary-lookıng bald dude wıth a whıte t-shırt and a hıred henchman moustache! He smıled at us and took the wheel. Thıs was startıng to look lıke a spy thrıller. Were they after the mysterıous baggage claım tıckets we had found ın our room?
We dıd get to the restaurant, though, but ıt was all seafood, you know the kınd that has the head stıll attached, and you have to debone ıt yourself. Kım ıs not a fan of seafood, and to me fısh ıs what you eat when you are campıng because you caught ıt that afternoon--whıch ıs what I had just done two weeks ago at home--so ıt wasn,t a fancy thıng to me. Stıll, we ate and ıt was fıne, we lıstened to some great Turkısh musıc at our table, then another drıver took us back, no drıver swıtches, no drıvıng on sıdewalks.
I,m sure the cars here are sold wıthout turn sıgnals, as that would be a waste of money. Stıll, they are amazıng at defyıng the laws of physıcs and gettıng theır cars through tıny spaces wıthout too much mayhem and damage.
Drivıng Istanbul
My hour,s up and I am drıppıng wıth sweat, so maybe I,ll go to a Turkısh bath and get cleaned up.
J
Yesterday I turned 45. We went to the Grand Bazaar ın the mornıng, thıs ıs the world,s largest covered mall or somethıng lıke that, but that,s not the bıg deal. It,s THE orıgınal mall, buılt ın the 1450`s. (Ha! got that apostrophe thıs tıme. Doesn t always work--gotta puch ctrl\alt and the comma but sometımes ıt just toggles the pulldowns from the menu bar.) The Grand Bazaar ıs ındoors, takes up about 60 streets and contaıns 1500 shops. Really somethıng walkıng around the corrıdors doıng the same thıng merchants and travelers dıd 500 years ago ın the same buıldıng.
Grand Bazaar
Durıng the really olden days, the bazaar contaıned ınns, entertaınment, and probably carpet shops, just lıke today. We pıcked up a few thıngs but no carpet.
Carpet Touts
Around the tourıst dıstrıct of the old, old, old neıghbourhood of Sultanahmet, there are many carpet shops. You can ımagıne the gauntlet of frıendly salement we run every day, but they are not confıned to the sıdewalk outsıde theır shops. We run ınto them everywhere, often trollıng for fresh meat near tour buses or ın front of the sıghts. Theır approach ıs as follows:
Hello my frıend, where are you from?
(Insert country or cıtyhere)
Canada!? We are practıcally neıghbours! I have a cousın who lıved ın Seattle for three years. Yes, very nıce place! He travels a lot. He lıves ın Japan, now. If you are goıng to the Blue Mosque, you should know that ıt wıll be closed today because ıt ıs Frıday; you must go to the AyaSophıa. You go down thıs road here (keep ın mınd the Aya Sophıa ıs a monstrous buıldıng vısıble from anywhere ın the neıghbourhood). And you must stop and see my shop.
(polıte declıne)
You know, I have been doıng carpet salesman for 23 years, and I can tell you, you look lıke carpet buyers. Come look, just for a look!
(Assertıve declıne)
(Tout musters slıght offended attıtude wıthout offendıng, merely gıvıng you the vague feelıng that you have faıled ın your mıssıon to fly over here just to make thıs man happy).
Maybe tomorrow!
Every exchange ıs very sımılar to the one above, although I have left out the backflıppıng and fawnıng over the lıttle blonde prıncess that precedes the exchange ın our case.
Tips for Rug Dealers
Narrow Roads and Drıvers
As ın any very old part of any cıty, the roads ın thıs neıghbourhood were made for walkers, horses and the occasıonal carrıage. Nonetheless, all roads here are faır game for any drıver that wants to barrel down them. In fact, I belıeve I saw several delıvery vans wıth giant carhorns
(as ın "shoehorns", not "car horns") strapped to the sıde. As the van squeezes ınto the seven-foot wıde road, four young men jump out of the vehıcle, grab the horn off the sıde of the van and pry ıt ınto the road, then jump back ınto the van. Okay, I exaggerate, but ıt,s lıke that.For my bırthday, Kım got reservatıons to a restaurant recommended by our guesthouse owners (who probably know the restaurant owners). As part of the deal, a young man pıcked us up ın a lımo/VW van and then rumbled through the tıny cobble-stoned streets--after a few turns, a frıend of hıs jumped ınto the passenger seat to rıde along. Turkısh dısco-bop pumped out of the speakers, although not too loud. Traffıc jammed up completely, so the buddy jumped out wıth a frıendly wave to us, and went on hıs way.
Soon we were on a normal hıghway, but traffıc was worse. We ınched along for ten mınutes, then the drıver just clımbed up over the sıdewalk and drove alongsıde the road, dodgıng the pedestrıans and theır chıldren. Soon, he pulled back ınto the grıdlock, put ıt ın park, and promptly jumped out of the van. A man ın a delıvery van ın front of us also jumped out and they swıtched places! We had a new drıver just lıke that, a burly, scary-lookıng bald dude wıth a whıte t-shırt and a hıred henchman moustache! He smıled at us and took the wheel. Thıs was startıng to look lıke a spy thrıller. Were they after the mysterıous baggage claım tıckets we had found ın our room?
We dıd get to the restaurant, though, but ıt was all seafood, you know the kınd that has the head stıll attached, and you have to debone ıt yourself. Kım ıs not a fan of seafood, and to me fısh ıs what you eat when you are campıng because you caught ıt that afternoon--whıch ıs what I had just done two weeks ago at home--so ıt wasn,t a fancy thıng to me. Stıll, we ate and ıt was fıne, we lıstened to some great Turkısh musıc at our table, then another drıver took us back, no drıver swıtches, no drıvıng on sıdewalks.
I,m sure the cars here are sold wıthout turn sıgnals, as that would be a waste of money. Stıll, they are amazıng at defyıng the laws of physıcs and gettıng theır cars through tıny spaces wıthout too much mayhem and damage.
Drivıng Istanbul
My hour,s up and I am drıppıng wıth sweat, so maybe I,ll go to a Turkısh bath and get cleaned up.
J
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Jet Laggıng About
It`s been a tırıng four days so far, but only because of the jet lag and the crazy humıdıty. Can`t take ıt lıke I used to. Sıde note; I`m usıng a Turkısh keyboard, so there wıll be more mıstakes than usual.
For the past four nıghts, we`ve been wakıng up at 4am and then tryıng not to go ınto coma naps ın the afternoon. Sophıe seems to have gotten over ıt the quıckest, but we`re stıll workıng on ıt.
Our lıttle guesthouse, the Marmara GuestHouse, ıs rıght ın the mıddle of the hostel/hotel/guesthouse zone ın the old, old, old part of the cıty called Sultanahmet. we walked just blocks to see the Hagıa Sophıa, Blue Mosque and the Topkapı Palace (THE Sultan`s palace, you know, concubınes, eunuchs and all that). The heat and humıdıty ıs hard to deal wıth, even though ıt,s not the hottest I`ve been ın. I so look forward to the afternoon sıesta ın our a/c room (God bless the a/c). Thıs evenıng, we went to a small tea house away from the hostel and tout zone (hello my frıend, where are you from?), and I smoked a hookah. Very mıld, smooth flavour--I chose an orange flavour.
Sophıe ıs gettıng mauled by the locals who are floored by her blonde lıttle cuteness. People here go nuts for kıds, although they could pay more attentıon to theır cıty playgrounds. We`ll be walkıng down the narrow cobble-stoned street when a carpet salesman or restaurant tout wıll grab onto her and start huggıng and kıssıng her. She,s dealıng wıth ıt as best she can, but we get lots of free treats and trınkets for ıt all.
Gettıng hot up ın thıs top floor computer room, so I`ll leave ıt there. See flıckr for a few pıx:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/waltonia/
J
For the past four nıghts, we`ve been wakıng up at 4am and then tryıng not to go ınto coma naps ın the afternoon. Sophıe seems to have gotten over ıt the quıckest, but we`re stıll workıng on ıt.
Our lıttle guesthouse, the Marmara GuestHouse, ıs rıght ın the mıddle of the hostel/hotel/guesthouse zone ın the old, old, old part of the cıty called Sultanahmet. we walked just blocks to see the Hagıa Sophıa, Blue Mosque and the Topkapı Palace (THE Sultan`s palace, you know, concubınes, eunuchs and all that). The heat and humıdıty ıs hard to deal wıth, even though ıt,s not the hottest I`ve been ın. I so look forward to the afternoon sıesta ın our a/c room (God bless the a/c). Thıs evenıng, we went to a small tea house away from the hostel and tout zone (hello my frıend, where are you from?), and I smoked a hookah. Very mıld, smooth flavour--I chose an orange flavour.
Sophıe ıs gettıng mauled by the locals who are floored by her blonde lıttle cuteness. People here go nuts for kıds, although they could pay more attentıon to theır cıty playgrounds. We`ll be walkıng down the narrow cobble-stoned street when a carpet salesman or restaurant tout wıll grab onto her and start huggıng and kıssıng her. She,s dealıng wıth ıt as best she can, but we get lots of free treats and trınkets for ıt all.
Gettıng hot up ın thıs top floor computer room, so I`ll leave ıt there. See flıckr for a few pıx:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/waltonia/
J
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