Greece/Turkey: Istanbul

I forgot to mentıon thıs before, but ıf you want to see pıctures of thıs latest stınt ın Istanbul, here's the lınk agaın to Amanda's blog:  http://www.chitarita.blogspot.com/

I just saw that Mıchael Jackson dıed!  Holy cow - does somethıng major have to happen every tıme I leave the country?  Fırst I go to Guatemala and the economy tanks; now I go to Turkey and Mıchael Jackson dıes... sheesh!

Greece/Turkey: Istanbul

Thıs wıll most lıkely be my last emaıl from Turkey - tomorrow we fly back to the US!  We have been ın Istanbul for almost three days now.  We flew here rıght after the hammam experıence ın Cappadocıa.  Orıgınally we thought we'd have a good afternoon ın Istanbul that day, sınce we were leavıng at 4:30pm and the flıght was only about 45 mınutes.  The flıght was delayed an hour, however, and then requıred to hold ın the aır before landıng for another hour (really annoyıng when the holdıng pattern ıs longer than the actual flıght), so we ended up just havıng tıme to get ınto town, fınd our hotel, and go to bed.

The hotel has been kınd of an adventure.  It's a step up from a hostel, but stıll a long way from the Hılton.  When we checked ın we were told that the hotel dıd not have ınternet, but that we could go to a sıster hotel nearby to use the ınternet.  Last nıght we decıded to do that, only to dıscover that (a) the sıster hotel was not nearby, but rather a good fıfteen mınute walk away ın a labyrınthıne and very low-lıt part of the old town, and (b) the guy at receptıon at the other hotel had no clue what we were talkıng about - when we explaıned that we'd been sent by the other hotel to use the ınternet, he got up and told us to come around and use the receptıon desk computer!  Needless to say that would have been a lıttle awkward (just ımagıne ıf somebody had come ın and thought I was the receptıon guy!), so that explaıns why I'm wrıtıng thıs emaıl now, from an ınternet cafe, rather than last nıght.

Now that I thınk about ıt, maybe I should have trıed to pull off beıng a Turkısh receptıon guy.  After all, ıt's not lıke people thınk I'm Amerıcan.  One of the standard sales approaches of the carpet sellers here ın Istanbul ıs to ask people where they're from.  One of us wıll say the US and sometımes we'll specıfy Denver and DC.  Quıte often, though, they wıll contınue questıonıng me to fınd out where I'm really from (or where my "people" are from).  Most of them are convınced I'm Spanısh....

More about the cıty:  Istanbul ıs awesome!  It ıs a huge cıty of approxımately 16 mıllıon people (ımagıne fındıng a place that dwarfs New York!) that sprawls on both sıdes of the Bosphorus Straıt.  ("Bosphorus" by the way means "cow crossıng" because thıs ıs where, accordıng to myth, the once-lovely Io crossed the water after she was turned ınto a cow by Hera, the wıfe of Zeus, who was mad at Io after she dıscovered that Zeus was phılanderıng wıth lıttle Io.) 

It has been fun to be here, sınce I'd always remembered hearıng Mom's storıes about beıng here ın the late 1970s, when there were the snıpıngs and traın statıon bombıngs.  Fortunately today the cıty ıs MUCH safer.  In fact, ıt practıcally feels lıke Dısneyland compared to the bıg cıtıes ın Central Amerıca.  The streets are clean, generally well lıt and free from beggars and panhandlers.  Our hotel ıs ın the old cıty center near the bıg mosques and the Ottoman palace; today we're walkıng through the new cıty center, and ıt feels pretty much lıke any other European capıtal. 

The sıghtseeıng ın Istanbul has been some of the best so far on thıs trıp.  There's so much here!  The two real stunners are the Aya Sofya and the Blue Mosque.  The Aya Sofya ıs the mosthershıp of all chrıstıan churches.  The Roman Emperor Justınıan had ıt buılt ın the 6th century and ıt was the crown jewel of the Byzantıne Empıre untıl the Ottomans took over and turned ınto a Mosque.  It's remarkable for havıng an absolutely enormous central domed worshıp hall:  our guıde explaıned that Notre Dame Cathedral could fıt comfortably ınsıde, and the Statue of Lıberty could do jumpıng jacks.  The really amazıng thıng about the sıze ıs that ıt was achıeved wıthout usıng eıther the massıve columns that were common for that era, nor dıd they use the flyıng buttresses that were essentıal to the gothıc archıtecture ın western Europe.  Thıs lack of columns makes the space feel ıncredıbly vast.  

Not only ıs the Aya Sofya a feat of engıneerıng genıus, ıt's also artıstıcally jaw-droppıng.  The ınsıde ıs covered wıth ıncredıbly fıne mosaıcs made of tıny colored tıles, some of whıch have semı-precıous stones and gold leaf.  The effect ıs to look up ınto a shımmerıng golden heaven wıth the faces of Chrıst, Mary, the saınts, and a bunch of frıendly emperors lookıng down.

Across the street ıs the Blue Mosque, whıch was buılt by an Ottoman Sultan ın the 16th Century to outdo the Aya Sofya.  The dome ıs not as large as the Aya Sofya's, and ıt relıes on large columns for support.  But the ınsıde ıs covered wıth tıles paınted wıth exquısıte blue and green floral and geometrıcal patterns that make the space feel very serene and lıght.  And the outsıde ıs breathtakıng.  What the archıtects achıeved wıth the ınterıor of the Aya Sofya, you mıght say the archıtect of the Blue Mosque achıeved wıth the exterıor.  It's an ısland of undulatıng domes and mınarets that rıses above the cıty wıth such clear and perfect shape and proportıon that ıt's gorgeous from any vantage poınt. 

Speakıng of archıtects, the archıtect of the Blue Mosque was named Sınan, and he was a contemporary of Mıchelangelo and Leonardo da Vıncı.  He ıs the preemınent Ottoman archıtect, havıng constructed hundreds of buıldıngs all around the cıty (ıncludıng mosques, hammams, and even the royal kıtchens), and I am completely mystıfıed why we don't hear more about hım ın the West.  Honestly, hıs work ıs brıllıant and ıncredıbly beautıful, and certaınly rıvals the best of anythıng we have ın Western Europe. 

We trıed to see another mosque by Sınan, buılt for the Sultan of the tıme and consıdered hıs masterpıece, but we were dısappoınted to fınd ıt closed for restoratıon.  We decıded to console ourselves by goıng ınto the spıce market, so we pulled out a map to fınd the best way through the wındıng cıty streets.  As we looked, a lıttle old, whıte-bearded, bespectacled man (thınk Santa Clause) came up to us and grabbed our map.  He began porıng over ıt, mutterıng ın frıendly and totally unıntellıgıble Turkısh as he trıed to orıent hımself so that he could... um... well, I'm not really sure how he thought he was goıng to help us because he had no way of knowıng ıf we were tryıng to fınd where we were or how to get somewhere.  He would turn ıt one way, and then another, and then trıumphantly poınt to someplace.  I assumed he meant ıt to be where we were standıng, but sınce the map was essentıally upsıde down and he was poıntıng to a dıfferent neıghborhood altogether, ıt was clear somethıng hadn't quıte clıcked.  So I trıed reposıtıonıng the map to alıgn wıth the topography and poınted to where we were actually standıng (gesturıng to the street sıgns to help prove my poınt).  Santa Clause recognızed wıth some dısmay that he had been mıstaken, touched hıs glasses knowıngly and wınked (as ıf to let me ın on the joke that hıs eyes were goıng), and then proceeded to mumble and turn the map around and around agaın untıl he confıdently poınted to another place on the map that made absolutely no sense.  Amanda and I, all thıs whıle, were ıntensely enjoyıng thıs extremely frıendly (albeıt totally unhelpful) attentıon.  Faced wıth hıs confıdence at hıs new dıscovery, we nodded enthusıastıcally our thanks.  Santa Claus asked me then ıf I was Dutch ("Hollander"?) and then strode off happy to have been of such help.  We kınd of wısh we'd been able to take a pıcture wıth hım.

The Spıce Market, whıch we dıd eventually fınd, was pretty cool.  It's exactly what you mıght ımagıne:  a mıllıon lıttle stalls wıth mounds of spıces and herbs of all sorts - everythıng from safron and cınnamon to rose hıps and cardamom.  It was extremely fragrant and a vısual rıot of color.  Add to that the fact that ıt's all housed ın a 15th century buıldıng, and you've got the makıngs of a pretty ıncredıble settıng.

Sımılarly ıncredıble ıs the Grand Bazaar.  Thıs ıs the old tradıng center of the cıty and, arguably, the Ottoman Empıre.  The bazaar had over 4000 shops; most are clustered ın an ancıent pavıllıon, around the old camps (called "caravanseraıs") of the camel caravans that brought ın exotıc goods from the Sılk Road and elsewhere.  I was slıghtly dısappoınted to fınd that the bazaar wasn't nearly as chaotıc as I'd expected (agaın, compared to the madness of the markets ın Guatemala, thıs felt almost as tame as a shoppıng mall), but apparently ıt's been "westernızed" quıte a bıt as more tourısts come and the rısıng rent drıves out the tradıtıonal vendors.  Even so, ıt was a lot of fun to walk through the shops and haggle wıth the shopkeepers over the prıce of rugs or pıllow covers or paınted tıles.  I am defınıtely better at bargaınıng wıth Guatemalans ın Spanısh than I am wıth Turks ın Englısh, but even so I've been able to make some decent purchases. 

Near the grand bazaar there ıs a movıe theater that shows the current blockbusters ın Englısh wıth Turkısh subtıtles.  The fırst day we were here both Amanda and I were feelıng a bıt draggy, so we went to see Transformers thınkıng that a couple of hours ın the cool dark of the movıe theater would help.  What a sılly movıe!  Havıng seen the fırst movıe, I knew better than to have very hıgh expectatıons; I knew ıt would be a faırly standard actıon movıe.  But ıt was way worse -- basıcally just a testosterone-laden fantasy of hot gırls, awesome cars, guns and explodıng thıngs, some crude bathroom humor, and some CG anımated fıght scenes that were so bafflıng that ıt was hard to see what was actually goıng on.  Seeıng thıs movıe ın Istanbul goes up there wıth my seeıng Charlıes Angels ın Parıs. 

In keepıng wıth the bomb/explosıon/adventure theme, we decıded to take a ferry rıde to the asıan sıde of the cıty so that we could relıve Mom's experıence of dockıng back on the European sıde wıth the traın statıon blowıng up.  Okay, I dıdn't actually want the traın statıon to blow up, but I dıd want to have the experıence of seeıng what Mom had seen.  As we got to the ferry area, however, we saw a lıttle cruıse boat that was sellıng rıdes up the Bosphorus that weren't too expensıve.  So we jumped on board and got a very pleasant boat tour.  That whole corrıdor ıs an extremely busy shıppıng route; ıt was fascınatıng to see just how busy ıt was wıth shıps and theır cargo.  It was every bıt as busy as any ındustrıal truckıng hub you mıght see ın the US.  It was also neat to see the bıg houses and palaces that lıne the water as you go up toward the Black Sea.

And speakıng of palaces, the grand-daddy palace here ıs the Topkapı Palace, whıch ıs the former Ottoman Sultan's palace.  We toured ıt yesterday and were very ımpressed by the sıze of the place and the beauty of the rooms.  Many of them had very ıntrıcate tılework and fıne staıned glass wındows.  The harem and the sultan's chambers were especıally beautıful.  One of my favorıte thıngs was how they put lıttle fountaıns ın most of the wındows to provıde pleasant water noıse as well as a coolıng effect ın the room as the water evaporated.  The palace also had quıte the treasury.  There were jewel encrusted swords and goblets and suıts of armor.  Also the fıfth largest dıamond ın the world.  A dıfferent kınd of treasure was held ın the relıcs chamber.  There, we saw Moses' staff, Davıd's sword, John the Baptıst's skull and arm (funny how I saw hıs skull ın a French cathedral a few years ago... he must have had a few heads...), Abraham's cookıng pot, and Mohammed's tooth and some beard haırs.  I admıt to a certaın amount of skeptıcısm about the authentıcıty of the relıcs, but I respected that most of the people there belıeved them to be real and extremely sacred.  So sacred, ın fact, that they've had an ımam readıng the Koran out loud ın the chamber contınuously sınce the 16th century when the relıcs were moved there.  Kınd of amazıng to thınk how many thıngs have been goıng on ın the world whıle that readıng has contınued.  I also thınk the Mormon church should start traınıng people how to read the scrıptures out loud lıke that -- ıt was really beautıful, kınd of lıke sıngıng.

In addıtıon to all the sıghtseeıng, we have also had some pretty good food.  The best so far was a restaurant called Hamdı near the spıce market and the ferry termınals.  It had a delıcıous salad called Sheperds Salad, wıth tomatoes, red onıons, cucumbers, cılantro, red peppers, and pomegranate vınegar.  They also had a dessert called kunufe that was very tasty - ıt was a pastry that resembled angel haır pasta, wıth a whıte cheese ınsıde and honey over ıt.  (Alas, theır baklava dıdn't hold a candle to the baklava we had ın Rhodes -- ın fact, that mıght have been the best baklava ın the world.)

I'm goıng to have to end here.  We have a lot to do stıll today, sınce ıt's our last day, and not much tıme to do ıt!  We're hopıng to do some more shoppıng at the grand bazaar, fınd some old bookstores, and then get another bath at a hammam buılt ın the 15th century by Sınan later tonıght (we had hoped to get tıckets to an opera concert tonıght, but all the cheap seats were gone by the tıme we got to the box offıce).  

P.S.  It just occurred to me that whıle some of you know who I'm travelıng wıth, some of you mıght have no ıdea who thıs "Amanda" ıs that I keep talkıng about.  Amanda Waterhouse ıs a good frıend of mıne that I met at the Unıversıty of Utah.  She teaches Englısh and theater ın Denver.  We've kept ın touch over the years and have done quıte a bıt of travelıng together ın the Eastern US; we thought thıs trıp would be a fun way to celebrate the fact that both of us are turnıng 30 later thıs year.

Greece/Turkey: Cappadocia (Hammam!)

You probably thought you were done hearing from me for a while -- at least until I got to Istanbul, right?  Well, so did I, but now there's news:  the Turks may not have grasped the concept of deodorant, but they have definitely got bathing down to an art!

Faced with a morning of unscheduled time between checking out of the hotel and leaving for the airport, Amanda and I decided to go to a hammam, a.k.a. Turkish bath.  Unlike Christians in Western Europe, who at one point thought that bathing was bad for you, Muslims have been bathing for centuries; apparently being clean is an important element of Islam.  Given the general lack of indoor plumbing, they developed these elaborate community bath houses called hammams, with saunas and pools and the various accoutrements for intense bathing.  Here's how it worked for us:

We arrive at the hammam, check in, and are directed to changing rooms where we are given little sandals and a towel to wrap around our nakedness.  (Not being entirely confident that the towel would remain around my nakedness, I opted to keep on some quick-drying travel underwear I'd brought for this sort of situation; the people who designed garments weren't exactly thinking of hammam.)  Once sandaled and toweled, we were shepharded into a sauna.  A man came in with a vat of green mud and a paintbrush, which he used to smear the green mud all over our faces.  Then he pointed to an 15-minute hourglass on the wall and gestured in a way that made it clear that we were not to leave the rooom until all the sand had run out.  Then he closed the door and we sat.

We sat, and we roasted.  Boy was it hot!  The thermometer registered about 49 degrees Celsius, which I think comes out to about 120 degrees Fahrenheit!  Needless to say, within seconds I was running with sweat.  And for those of you who might be concerned about my virtue, given that I was sitting there in nothing but a towel in seclusion with a girl who was similarly dressed, let me just point out that there is nothing glamorous or sexy about profuse sweating, especially when it also involves rivers of green mud running from you face down into your bellybutton.  Eventually I had more or less acclimated to the heat and felt I could hold out for the full 15 minutes more or less comfortably.  But then the guy came back in and ladled a bucket of water onto the brazier that was heating the room.  So now not only was it 5 million degrees in there, but it was also super humid!  Ay! 

Finally the sand ran out and we headed back out into the main room.  This room was a large octagonal room entirely of marble.  Around the perimeter were benches with personal water basins and bowls for pouring water over oneself.  In the center of the room was a raised marble platform.  We were directed to lie down on this platform and relax for a while.  Turns out, lying flat on your back on hard marble is pretty comfortable.  The marble was heated from within, and the gentle heat radiated through my back and limbs and felt great.  After the intense heat of the sauna, I was ready for this relaxation -- it kind of felt like the relaxation pose at the end of a good yoga workout.  By the time I had relaxed to the point of nearly dosing off, the man came back in the room for the next phase.

This phase was the washing/exfoliating phase.  The man took me over to the bench on the outside of the room and filled a basin with water.  He took the bowl and poured the water all over me.  Then he pulled on a large, rough glove, and started scrubbing me.  To get the proper emphasis, maybe I should say SCRUBBING me.  First my back, then my arms, legs, chest and stomach -- everything was subject to the most vigorous scrubbing I've ever had.  It didn't hurt, fortunately, but it was definitely vigorous.  The effect, as you might imagine, was amazing:  SO much skin came off!  I had no idea I had that much skin to lose! 

After the scrubbing, and a rinse to get rid of my newly shed skin, the guy directed me to lie back down on the central platform.  I lay down, and he immediately pulled off my towel.  Yikes!  Good thing I'd thought to leave my trunks on, or I'd have been there naked as a jaybird!  (Amanda, on the other hand, hadn't anything on under her towel and now claims that I "cheated.") 

Thus stripped down of both my extra skin and my modesty blanket, I was ready for soap and a massage.  The guy lathered up huge mounds of soap suds (think giant watermelons) and dumped them on top of me.  He then used what felt like a big loofa to rub the foam around my body before starting in with the massage.  Like the scrubbing, this soap massage was extremely vigorous -- no delicate day-spa treatment here!  He started with legs and feet, then worked up my back to my arms and shoulders, then went back and started all again.  In addition to the rubbing he would occasionally give me these great slaps on the back or thighs; I never could tell what the point of the smacking was, other than they made terrific echoes in the giant marble chamber.  Once my backside was sufficiently soaped and massaged, the guy turned me over and did the front side.  The best move was when he pulled my arms across my chest and rubbed the underside -- it gave a delightful stretch in the triceps.  My least favorite move was when he was washing my stomach.  Think of how you might scrub a floor on your hands and knees:  you'd lean on one arm for support, and scrub away with the other.  That's basically how he approached my stomach, which would have been fine, except that the support arm was planted not on the marble slab, but my chest!  So with each effort to scrub my stomach he forced out all the air from my lungs! 

When the soapy massage was done, I was taken back over to the basin for one last rinse and then directed to jump into a cold pool that was at first a shock to the system, but eventually felt very good.  Eventually Amanda joined me (fortunately they'd let her keep her wrap -- which was more than they'd done for me) and we chilled in the pool for a while reflecting on what had just happened to us and wondering what we were supposed to do next.  When no one appeared to direct us to any further scrubbing or massaging, we got out and showered off.  We were met at the exit by a man with towels who dried us off and sent us back to the dressing room. 

Now, sitting here at the computer, I have to say that was probably the best bathing experience ever.  I feel incredibly clean and refreshed and invigorated -- especially after so many days of heat and sweat and dust.  I'm glad we went in the morning, since we were the only ones there so we could figure it out without the awkwardness of a million stares.  On the other hand, I can now appreciate the tradition of having men and women separate in the hamams.  Amanda and I are planning on going to another one in Istanbul, and we're definitely going with the non-mixed option. 

Okay, that's it for now.  I've got to run to get to the airport for Istanbul.  Woot!

Greece/Turkey: Cappadocia - Istanbul

It's moi; still in Turkey; thought I'd send along another update as I wind up the Cappadoccia section of the trip and head to Istanbul.

First, I want to say "Happy Father's Day" to Dad.  I'm sorry I wasn't around to call and say it in person, but I definitely thought of you and hope you had a good day.  I love you and am grateful for all the things I've learned from you.  For example, I'm grateful you taught me how to avoid having B.O.  As I mentioned in my last email, this region is famous for the extensive and elaborate cave dwellings/churches/monasteries that the early Christians built in the rock formations here.  History and art aside, the first thing we noticed about these cave settlements was their temperature:  you leave the sweaty mess of the 95+ degree outside desert and enter a delightfully cool semidarkness of the caves, which hold steady around 60 degrees.  Amanda's first reaction to this was "Why did people ever leave caves?  Especially when they weren't going to have air conditioning for another 1000 years?"  My answer:  Because they realized they hadn't invented deodorant yet (and probably sensed that even when they had, they wouldn't use it).  There's nothing like stepping out of a narrow winding staircase 6 storeys underground into a wide chamber filled with Turkish tourists reeking of body odor to make you appreciate how a breeze, even at 100 degrees, is still a breeze of fresh air.

Odor problems aside, I have to say that the underground city was one of the most fascinating places I've ever been.  From the outside, you'd never have known anything was there.  The people created air shafts for light and air, but they were carefully disguised, and the entrance really was just another hold in the ground with stairs going down.  But once you were down there, it opened up into hundreds of passages, corridors and rooms spread out over 8 levels.  And we're not talking about the Mark Twain cave, with stalactites and stalagmites here - this place had flat floors and walls that met at right angles; carved-out sections of walls and floors for storage; wine presses, with conduits from the bottom of the pit where you'd press the grapes so that the juice could run into giant earthenware jugs called amphora; stables for livestock; large school rooms with stone seats around a long stone table; a large arched chapel; living areas with "living rooms" and little bedrooms; long staircases that wound around from one level to another; defense mechanisms consisting of giant flat round stones with holes in the center set in sleeved recesses that could be rolled out across staircases or corridors to cut off invading enemies while enabling you still to stab said enemies with spears launched through the holes (think Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom).  At the lowest point of the tour, we were 55 meters under the earth (approximately 165 feet), and we were told that the city continued for at least another 85 meters beyond that.  Normally I don't have a problem with closed spaces or being underground, but by that point I admit to having some pangs of worry about being trapped beneath all that rock!  It was amazing to think of it as a place where approximately 3000 people used to live and work.  At first the underground city was inhabited only during times of danger and attack, but later it was occupied on a more regular basis.  And this wasn't the only one - our guide explained that there are at least 100 such underground cities in the area, and that more may still be found (the most recent was discovered only two years ago).

As unusual and outlandish as these underground settlements may sound, you'd probably be surprised at how familiar you'd find the land above ground.  It really looks like it could be somewhere in the intermountain west!  The fantastic rock formations look like something you'd find in southern Utah or eastern Colorado (maybe even Nevada, though I'm less familiar).  Other areas look like they could come right out of southern Idaho or northern Utah.  And I'm not just talking about the general ambiance; the resemblances are more profound.  For example, most of the plants I see are the same:  cottonwoods, poppies, bachelor buttons, hollyhocks (no sagebrush, though).  There's a giant salt lake complete with salt flats.  And there's a basalt gorge that looks like the twin of what you'd see at, say, Twin Falls, Shoshone Falls, or many places along the Snake River.  It's weird to travel half-way around the world to marvel at countryside that looks so nearly identical to the places you've seen so many times before!  If only the pioneers had thought to build their towns underground...

It's also strange to have the feeling of seeing something so familiar when the people around you are having the opposite experience of seeing something totally new and foreign.  Amanda and I were seeing all of these things as part of a tour we'd joined through a local travel agency so that we could get a local guide for the different sites.  The rest of the group was composed of an American army woman and five Korean kids.  Those Koreans were like a box of teenage cats.  We'd get to a place and our guide would let everyone pile out of the van, and instantly the Koreans were bouncing off the walls in 48 directions oohing and awing and taking pictures of everything they saw.  You'd have thought the gorge was the Grand Canyon and a fluffy white cloud something they'd never seen before.  They also did totally inexplicable things, such as lie down in the middle of a highway on scalding hot tarmac when the van pulled over in the middle of nowhere.  Back in town, one kid said he wanted to buy a hat to block the sun - but instead of coming back with a sensible wide brim hat, he had this outrageous multicolored turban with large strips of cloth to wrap around his face and neck -- he ran around the rest of the day looking as if he were a Bedouin about to cross the Sahara.  Fortunately, despite their ADD mode of life, the Koreans were also friendly and, since they did not eat Doritos in the hot crowded van (those who followed my adventures with Israelis in Guatemala last year know what I mean...), I did not have to think bad things about them.

The Army Lady also had her share of special moments.  She was one of those sweet but socially awkward people who vocalises way too much of her inner monologue and who mistakenly assumes everyone else is on the same page as she is.  For example, at one point we got out of the van at a scenic spot to take pictures of a distant volcano.  As the rest of us dutifully photographed said volcano (or lay prostrate on the boiling hot tarmac), Army Lady had herself photographed in front of a very average-looking road sign that pointed to a place we weren't going.  And then, when she saw the picture, she crowed with delight, exclaimed what a fantastic shot it was, and grabbed Amanda's camera:  "Come on, hon!  This is a great shot!  I'll take one for you!"  Apparently having no choice in the matter, Amanda now has a picture of herself with a random roadsign to some unknown place in Turkey....

The rest of the time here in Cappadoccia has been relatively calm.  We had toyed with the idea of going rafting or horseback riding, but decided that the prices were a little high and that it wouldn't be a bad thing just to take it easy for a few days.  I wrote hundreds of postcards (well, only 11, but it felt like hundreds) and went on a little hike by myself to explore the countryside.  This afternoon we tried to go to the pool, but a low-budget German movie was being filmed there, so we ended up napping in the cave for a couple of hours.  By the time we were up again the movie crew had moved on and we were able to go to the pool after all.  There we met some other travelers who were sort of generically nice, (although one couple tended to be the sort of people who asked for recommendations and then, when we gave our recommendations, dismissed them in a sort of know-it-all manner based on "things" they'd "heard").

Okay, it's about 12:30 here now, and I guess I ought to go to bed.  I'm flying to Istanbul tomorrow, where we'll stay for the rest of the trip.  I'll write more later!

Greece/Turkey: Cappadocia

I'm writing this email from a cave.  It's a delightful cave, full of Turkish carpets and hardwood floors, with little carved windows and a fireplace.  Outside is a covered terrace with pots of geraniums and a pool a little farther on.  This sort of lodging is common out here in the Cappadocia region of Turkey (well, most places probably don't have pools).  Cappadocia is in the center of Turkey and is a vast, open space that looks a lot like southern Utah or eastern Colorado.  It's very much a high desert, and it has fantastic rock formations.  Over the millennia, the land has eroded to form what are called "fairy chimneys" -- they're these cone or pillar formations two or three storeys tall, that rise out of the land like a labyrinthine forest.  Back in the early years of Christianity, when the Christians were being killed driven out of Rome (and everywhere else), many of them fled to this area to live in the rocks.  And I mean that literally.  They carved out the fairy chimneys into elaborate cave monasteries, with kitchens, dining halls, and many-columned churches with exquisite frescoes.  Amanda and I went to an area yesterday that had approximately 14 of these chapels and the accompanying monastic rooms.  Later today we're going to explore the underground cities the Christians built.  Apparently these cities are huge and go down into the ground six or seven levels.  The monasteries (and, I'm told, the underground cities) were camouflaged from the exterior to avoid detection by hostile intruders; and the passages and entrances could be blocked from the inside with stones to keep people out, too.  It's all pretty amazing and feels like something right out of the Hobbit books.

We got up at 4am this morning to go hot air ballooning over the canyons with the fairy chimneys.  It was a clear, beautiful morning, with virtually no breeze.  We went up about 600 meters and had excellent views of the surrounding areas.  I was surprised how smooth the ride was and how safe we felt.  The main inconvenience was the blasts of heat that came from the burners every few minutes. 

If you want to see more pictures, Amanda updates her blog daily:  http://www.chitarita.blogspot.com/

I have to run now for the underground city tour.  I'll write more later!

Greece/Turkey: Athens - Crete - Selcuk

I'm writing from Selcuk, a town on the Aegean coast of Turkey.  (The innkeeper is watching horseracing on television right next to me, and the volume is very loud, so my thoughts might be scrambled!)  We only just got to Turkey today, and already we love it!  This is the first time I've had access to a computer to really write, so I thought I'd share some of our adventures.

We started out in Athens.  I got in around 9am, so I had most of the day before Amanda arrived at 6pm.  To stave off the effects of jetlag (and to break my feet back into days of walking in sandals in hot dusty climates), I pulled out my map and trekkedall  around the city.  It really isn't as awful as people make it out to be.  It is probably the dirtiest of the European capitals I've been in, and there's a strange sort of chaotic energy (in fact, it reminded me more of the Central American cities I'd seen than most European cities), but it still has its own charm -- and it's always fun to be in a new place where I can't talk to anyone and all the signs are totally illegible (by the end I started to get the hang of the Greek alphabet... but  only just a little!).

Athens has kind of weird topography, in that it's in this big valley that leads to the sea, but there are several big hills that just pop up in the middle of the valley.  One of them has the Acropolis on top of it, and the other two have a church or observatory or monument to some ruler on top of them.  I held off on the Acropolis till Amanda could go up with me, but I climbed all of the other hills so I could get the views of the city and some great camera shots of the Acropolis from eye level on the other hills.  As I looked from the hills out toward the harbor, which was full of ships, I kept thinking about that line about how Helen's was "the face that launched a thousand ships."

That night, once Amanda got in, we strolled around the city on the great pedestrian plazas they put in for the Olympics.  All the museums were closed, and we were saving the Parthenon for the morning, so we went to the old theater that is at the base of the acropolis and which is still in use.  We bought some tickets from an old man who was scalping them for face value (unclear how he thought he was getting a deal, unless he wanted just to break even), and got into the show.  The theater itself was pretty amazing:  steep marble seats curving around in a semi-circle amphitheater with the Parthenon above, ancient stonework in front, and the city and harbor laid out below. The show, on the other hand, was a little more "special."  Turns out it was some Greek singer singing what clearly were Greek classics that the audience (largely geriatric) just ate up like mad - I mean, there were random outbursts of clapping, and most people just couldn't resist singing a long at full voice.  It was fun enough, but since the whole thing was entirely in Greek, we had no clue what was going on and by intermission we'd succumbed to jetlag and the marble seats and decided to go home to sleep.

The next morning we were up and out the door to the Parthenon. For all that Athens might be disappointing as a city, the Parthenon was everything I'd expected it to be.  It was huge and beautiful and really old (and crowded with 14 million tourists), and it was hard to believe that I was really seeing it.  I also finally started to agree with all the people who argue that Britain should return all the marble statues and friezes that they pillaged from the Parthenon back in the day.  Seeing everything on site made me want to see the rest of it intact.

By the time we'd finished the Parthenon we had pretty much exhausted Athens, so we headed to the harbor to head to the islands.  We wanted to go to Crete, which is somewhat off the beaten track, so we didn't have a ton of ferry choices, and we didn't want to pay for airfare, so we booked an overnight ferry -- without a cabin.  Why (we asked ourselves) pay for a cramped little berth in a ferry, when we could sleep under the stars on the deck of a giant ferry as we cross the Mediterranean on a summer's night?  It was about as steerage as you can get (although we'd have survived a shipwreck, since we were right on deck) - we had to sleep on the benches placed at various intervals on the deck.  We just locked our bags to the benches (I always travel with cable and lock) and curled up with our earplugs and little eye pillows to block out the light and slept like logs -- or at least logs that are drugged with dramamine and wake up from time to time stiff and cold from sleeping on a metal bench.  Needless to say, it wasn't the best night of sleep I've ever had and I woke up feeling pretty grimy.  On the other hand, we did get to see the constellations from the part of the world where all the myths about them were created.  And we also got to see the sun rise over the mediterranean as we were pulling into the medieval port of Heraklion, on Crete. 

Crete was a huge step up from Athens.  It was smaller and a little calmer (and full of very beautiful, fit, tan people who all seemed to live there without anything to do other than be beautiful, fit and tan... I kind of want that job.)  It was also surrounded by the gorgeous blue water that you see in all the postcards.  After dropping our stuff at the hotel, we went inland to the ruined Minoan palace of Knossos - it was a huge center back in 1900-1700 BC (and I thought the Parthenon was old!) but the whole civilization was wiped out mysteriously at one point, leaving all the cities and palaces pretty well in tact.  We ran into a fun Australian mother/son traveling duo and eavesdropped on the French tour guide (and tried very hard not to get caught, because then she'd yell at us in a ferocious manner despite the fact that her group WAS taking up the whole room and she was speaking VERY loudly).

After roasting in the ruins for a while and a quick glance at the archeological museum, we decided we were done with culture and headed for the beach.  O, the beach!!  We rented lawn chairs and a large umbrella from a leathery old man and set up camp on the coast near a little town called Rethymno.  Apparently the old city center was lovely, but we didn't make it past the beach.  We sat in the sun and alternated between sunning ourselves and getting pulverized against the rocks by the giant waves.  That was fun for a while, but eventually we decided to stay with the sunning part...

Turns out that was a good choice, because that meant our base tans were all the more advanced for our next beach day -- this time on Rhodes.  We hadn't originally planned on staying very long in Rhodes.  We had caught a little propeller plane puddle-jumper from Crete to Rhodes so that we could catch a ferry to Turkey.  Upon arriving in Rhodes, however, we discovered two things:  First, no ferries went to the part of Turkey we wanted; second, Rhodes was kind of rad.  In fact, very rad.  So we changed our plans and bought a ticket for a ferry to a different part of Turkey, booked a hotel in Rhodes, and headed to the beach for another day of sun and swimming.  This time the waves were milder and we were able to get some good swimming.  After the beach we cleaned up and went out for a tour of the city, which is a UNESCO world heritage site for good reason.  It's an ancient fortress of the Knights Hospitaller and remarkably intact (thanks to a kind history and the thoughtful ministrations of Mussolini, who thought to make it his summer home).  The walls are massive, with a huge moat and a very castley-looking castle perched above it all. Between the castle and the walls/moat is a labyrinth of medieval streets and houses that are as bewildering as they are picturesque (honestly, I haven't been so lost since Venice, and there weren't any canals here to complicate things!)

By the time we left Greece on the ferry the next morning, we were definitely glad we had come and felt like we'd seen a good spread of what Greece has to offer.  We loved the beaches and the temples and ruins.  The people we were a little more ambivalent about.  We didn't meet any outright rude or mean people, but they weren't exaclty cuddly bears either.  For example, Greeks are excellent line cutters, as we learned in the grocery store and airport.  The technique involves putting a grocery basket or piece of luggage on the floor in front of you and pushing it with your feet into the space between the person in front of you (me) until you just have to step in yourself to keep taking care of your bag - funny how it got there...

The Greeks also have a way of insisting that you eat what you're given.  Last night Amanda "ordered" (the waiter interpreted Amanda's request for a recommendation as carte blanche to bring her whatever he wanted her to eat) a special chef's plate at our restaurant.  It was tasty, but a little heavy on a hot summer's night.  The waitress, however, insisted (only quasi playfully) that Amanda have five more bites before she'd bring us the check! And then this morning at breakfast, I took a piece of what I thought was pound cake -- but when it turned out to be a very sweet, heavy bread, I left some of it untouched on my plate.  When the old woman took my plate she asked me in broken English why I didn't eat it.  I told her it was too sweet, and apparently broke her heart.  She had positively the most tragic look on her face, as she swept off the bread, that I've ever seen.  You'd have thought I'd told her to think about dead puppies.

The ferry to Turkey went smoothly this morning, and we had a pretty seamless trip to Selcuk this afternoon.  It took us a minute to get back into the mode of dealing with aggressive vendors and taxi/bus drivers (so familiar from traveling in Central America last year), but over all we've both been impressed by how much better we like the feel of Turkey than Greece.  Turkey is much more developed and cleaner than I'd expected it to be, and it doesn't have the chaotic feel of Athens or the resorty feel of Rhodes.  And the Turks, although more aggressive in their pursuit of our business, are also more welcoming and hospitable.  I think all this bodes well for the rest of our trip here.

The best thing I did since I got here this afternoon was to go to the barber.  Our innkeeper told me about a barber down the street and how my face would be "pulled and pummeled into relaxation" and how the barber would "burn" my sideburns.  When I expressed interest, he called and had the barber send a little boy to guide me to the barber shop.  He plopped me in the chair, and I had my first ever traditional (Turkish) barber shave.  He started with the soap lather with the brush, then shaved me with the straight razor; then repeated the whole process againt.  When he was satisfied with the shave, he rinsed my face with water and pulled out this little torch, which he lit and started rapidly thumping my face with!  I was kind of terrified, but it didn't hurt at all. Apparently the goal was to singe the ends of my sideburns and the little fuzz on my cheekbones and earlobes (who knew it needed to go, too?).  After that came the lotion and face massage, which evolved into a shoulder and arm massage. Then came the powder on the face and a restyling of my hair.  Last of all was the cologne.  LOTS of cologne.  He took the bottle and started spraying on my chest -- and just kept spraying!!  For about 4 seconds!  I about died.  Suddenly, I realized why so many of the guys we'd passed in the streets were so aromatic.  Anyway, the whole experience was fantastic, and I think that I could get used to doing that (minus the 18 gallons of cologne) on a regular basis -- in fact, I'll probably do it regularly through the rest of the trip. 

Two other points of interest in this place.  The first is that there is a ruined Temple of Artemis here, which was one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World.  It isn't much to look at now that it's only a jumble of stones and a rather suspect-looking column, but apparently it used to be quite the temple and bigger than the Parthenon.  The other thing relates to Christian history:  Apparently after Jesus died John brought Mary (of Virgin fame) to Selcuk, where she lived out the rest of her days; he later returned, after his stay on Patmos, and spent the rest of his life here (writing the gospel of St. John here and being buried here).  I probably won't go to Mary's house, but we did walk over to the ruined basilica that was built on the site where John was supposed to have been buried.  In addition to being an impressive building, it was also neat to walk into a room and recognize it instantly as the baptistry -- it looked almost exactly like the baptistry in our temples:  a central font with stairs going down into it from both sides (clearly designed for immersion), with two spots on either side that could have been for witnesses.  The only thing missing were the oxen.  The baptistry would have been built sometime between 300 and 500 AD, so we can see that some of the things we recognize in the restored church hadn't yet been entirely lost to the apostasy yet.

That's all for now.  I should go and get some dinner and head to bed eventually.  We're going tomorrow to the ruins of Ephesus (where the Ephesians lived who received that epistle from Paul...) bright and early.

Greece/Turkey: Starts Today!

I fly out in a few hours on another round of travels - this time I'll be covering good chunks of Greece and Turkey over the next two weeks.  I'm not planning on learning any languages this time, but I do think there will be plenty of adventures.  I'll send occasional updates so you can see how I fare with the locals.  I don't have a digital camera yet, but I'm sure I'll find someone who can take a picture of me now and then to post to Facebook.