music, media & other random musings

24 Hours in Istanbul

I had about 24 hours in Istanbul before my flight to Singapore. I'd actually bought two hours as the train back from Izmir (which was excellent) put me right at the airport and I caught an earlier flight back to Istanbul. But then in farily typical form, I confidently ran into the open doors of the Metro at the transfer station.... going in the wrong direction.  So, lost one of those hours right there doing the backtrack. And it had all been so smooth... 

I'd thought about doing that Jewish walking tour my friends from Melbourne suggested. It seemed like a good idea at the time. But once I got into the city, back to Taksim and Cihangir, I knew I'd need to just have my own day. It was weird, I really did feel like I had just come home again. No real agenda on those hours, but had a few things in mind. Once I got some of the bullshit details out of the way - emails, confirmation on car to aiport, booking a hotel in Singapore, and a long stare out my window view - I was on my way... 

A drink and last look at the view from the Marmara Pera. Not as clear of a night as the first time I was there, but the view was still pretty spectacular. Shit pictures, but I'm posting them anyway.Better images in my head... A stop at Kafeka to say goodbye, an evening with Mehmet, a late meal at Gani Gani (my little friend wasn't working that night, which made me sad), and number one on the list - a ride on the ferry.  Since I only had a bit of time, Kadikoy was the destination - 20 minutes on the ferry, a chance to eat at Ciya again (why is it that restaurants never are as good the second time?) and of course getting my ass kicked at backgammon. 

Backgammon.

As I rode to the aiport, I felt like camp had just ended.

 

  

Spontaneity

The most significant difference between tourist travel - the 1-2 week vacation - and a longer more leisurely tour, aside from the time, is the happen upon. 

It's pretty clear that the older we get, the more responsible, more planned and scheduled we become - and less inclined in daily life to let life lead us, as opposed to directing it course. When younger, especially during the freedom of college days, and even deep in the 20's, exploration is the whole point. And such, the young ones are more likely to be spontaneous - talk to whoever, make new friends, be open to last minute change of plans. I've been very aware of this even before I started traveling, but it's continued to be confirmed during the last 6 weeks. Of course, there are other factors too. But generally, I've tended to meet and hang out with people in their 20'd and 30's - even those in couples - as they haven't nailed down their day's activities and are more open to the idea that someone new has come into the picture, someone that might be worth spending time with.  But in the town of Selcuk, that theory was broken for me - and I'm so glad. Nice change of pace - and conversation.  

I knew the minute the bus started pulling into the town of Selcuk that I'd realy like the place.  Aside from the asshole who tried to hustle me when I got off the bus, it was very sweet.  (Most hustlers when ignored have some humor about it, just let you go on your way. This guy was pissed off that I wouldn't let him take me to my hotel, and that I didn't believe he was actually associated with my hotel... which was a 4 minute walk.)  Anyway, Selcuk was exactly what I'd imagined a small town outside of Istanbul might feel like.

Before the sun set, I took a little walk through the town and immediately upon walking into the small area of walking lanes, the town centre I imagine, the carpet guys called out.  One of the three spoke excellent English, one pretty damn good, the other not at all, and he disappeared immediately.  Sat down to have a tea with them, chatted for an hour. Talk of carpets, New York, America - the one who spoke excellent English had been everywhere. Why? To sell carpets, of course.  It appears that the info given to me by my friend Sincey in Goreme about ABC carpets was incorrect. Or so it seems anyway. These guys are apparently are also a vendor too. Hmmm.. No one should really believe a word a carpet salesman says.. These guy invited me to the beach the next day, Pamukke, and the town of Sirince - which were actually two places I wanted to see. I thought I might take them up on it. But no committment is ever necessary. A "we'll see" suffices.

Next morning got up and did the Ephesus exploration. The hotel - Hotel Bella, a kitschy little place that fit perfectly with the rest of the place - said they'd get me a personal guide if I wanted, or I could use offered audio sets, or they could just lend me their book that I could follow along to. I chose the book. In all honesty, after about 5 minutes of trying to match the book to the ruin, I gave up. Firstly, the book sucked. Secondly, it didn't interest me. Just as I felt in Cappadocia, too much information - information that I just don't absorb or really appreciate. A line from a book I'm reading, Black Dog of Fate: A Memoir by Peter Balakian summed it all up for me: "Even if one does not know the history, one feels the presence of the past." When I gave up, I put my headphones on and just strolled. The only exception in all this - the Grand Theatre. THAT was awesome. I sat on those steps - yeah, still with the headphones on - for a good 30 minutes just took it in. Didn't want to leave. Hard to explain actually. Just overwhelming - it's setting, grandeur, enormity, beauty, history. Well worth the rest of it, even having to navigate through the throngs of tourist groups.

By the afternoon, was ready for the beach. Couldn't decide if I wanted to go with the carpet guys or not.  Sort of wanted to just be solo and read, but also thought it could be amusing. The one who spoke English well, was pretty entertaining. I stopped by the shop, just to see... The entertaining one wasn't there, so I just had a quick tea with the other guy, who I quickly found out was pretty damn dull. So, I thought solo would be the call. But I was mistaken. I took a seat on a bench waiting for the bus next to a woman in her early 60's eating an ice cream cone. She had just finished saying something to someone passing by and I caught the American accent. Can't remember what I said to start conversation, but found out quickly she was waiting for her husband who left his bathing suit at the hotel, they lived in Mexico, but she was originally from Philly. I told her I could tell her she was an East Coast girl. Which is true. 

Needless to say, we became very fast friends. Talk, talk, talk, talk - only like two Jewish woman can do. (Actually didn't find out she was Jewish until much later in the day.) Her name is Caren, her husband's name was Dave. Both great - totally mellow, smart, intelligent, easy going. We rode the bus together and then sat on the beach for a few hours together. At some point an hour or so in, it clicked that I knew where they must be from in Mexico, and asked. San Miguel, of course. My mother and her husband, Jay, spent the month of January there about 5 or 6 years ago - and loved it. The way they'd described it, I could completely envision the two of them being there.  

They told me all about their three week travels through Turkey. About their early retirement from the East Coast to Mexico, what they do to keep themselves busy. She, incredibly decided to direct a documentary about how moving to San Miguel had changed her life, while interspersing others telling about how it had changed theirs too.  She'd never had anything to do with film before - it just called her name. Many film festivals later, three countries have bought the rights - Singapore, Israel and one other. Bold, amazing. Loved hearing about it. And through her, heard that Dave is the all around good guy, who helps people in town. In Mexico, obviously a very poor, 3rd world country,they are one of the kinds in the community filled with people that don't have money for medince or any other basic needs. And Dave's there to help, when he can, with no-interest loans and a variety of other ways. I could completely see it.  They told me about their kids and parents and how they met.....All and all, thoroughly enjoyable and entertaining. 

After the beach, we all went to check out Sirince... I read three sentences about the place - cute little charming town, overlooked the town of Pamuck and Selcuk. Maybe it was two sentences.  We took the bus back to Selcuk and then got on the bus back up to Sirince. The drive up there was beautiful, hills and hills of olive trees. The drive and the company was certainly the highlight. The town felt like a version of disneyland. Set up and created specifically for tourist to buy things - one of them, their awful Turkish wine that they're so proud of, but that is beyond awful. It's too bad too, because the setting really is stunning, feels like you're in Italy. We sat, had a bite, I had a drink of wine, shared a glass of Raki with Dave (a version of ouzo that i hadn't tried yet) and continued talking - travel, politics, etc.  Grabbed the bus back to down and went up to the roof of their little hotel (around the corner from mine) for a few hours, a glass of wine, more conversation. 

When I woke up, all I knew was that I was going to see Ephesus. And maybe get to the beach - with or without some carpet salesmen. That was it. But because I had no plans, or anywhere specific or definite I had to go, I ended up spending 8 hours with two new lovely people and had a thoroughly enjoying day of it.  A lovely surprise that can only happen when you let it. 

Bodrum

Bodrum, a big whatev for me. Not a place I'd try to get to again. As far as beaches and scenery goes, Croatia is far more beautiful. But also, being there, it occured to me, I'm just not a fan of the beach town - or the people that hang there.  It's true I haven't combed the world to see hordes of beach destinations, but aside from the Hamptons (which has its own issues), it's the only one - particularly Amagansett - that I've ever really liked. Generally, I just find beach towns fairly tacky. There are times that hits the spot. But not often. There is the higher end, more sophisticated side of Bodrum - the west side of the marina - but the "euro" quality there had its own brand of tacky that also turns me off.  

I get it - the winding walkways of shops, the restaurants/bars on the beach, the strip of water where lounge chairs and umbrellas are there for anyone's taking - steps from those bars and restaurants. I also get that ultimately this town, and these streets and these beach bars and restaurants are built for and come alive at night.  Admittedly, I didn't actually experience their night life, but can imagine it quite well...and pretty sure, it wasn't for me.  

I spent a long 8 hour day walking, sitting, reading at various spots - tea, lunch, beach chair, a chair at a nail salon to get a much needed manicure/pedicure, more tea, dinner. By early evening, figured an alcoholic beverage was more than deserved, while watching the sun set before heading back to Torbo, the little town a few kilometers over. I went to the Bodrum Yacht Club - which, of course, too caters to late night, but I figured at 7:30, on a gorgeous evening, there must be some early diners and early drinkers wanting the same - a buzz while catching the sun set over the water. Being on the upscale side of town, it's obviously catering to the older, wealtheir crowd, who I assumed - wrongly, apparently - might just prefer the earlier drink and meal. But no such luck. Empty almost. As were all the other places in the area. I don't mind drinking alone - but I prefer it in a place where there are actually other people around - yeah, so theoretically not really drinking alone. I didn't just want the alcohol, I wanted the atmosphere of the drink. So passed on the whole idea and just grabbed a kebab and headed back to the hotel. 

Aside from my realization that I don't love beach towns, I've decided that when traveling solo, cities and small towns - not beach destinations where couples and families tend to aggregate - is the way to go. (I'm doubting Thailand more and more...)  The beach towns do tend to have late night bar scenes, which attract the younger, single crowd, and as I've always been a fan of a fun bar evening, theoretically a draw. (I'm certainly not young anymore, but I can play one when drinking at a sweaty bar.) But, that's a scene I tend to like when I happen upon it, not when I plan for it as part of the day's activity. That I couldn't grab a drink with a lively, even moderately active crowd at 7:30pm in the evening, on a truly spectacular weather day, I found incredibly beat.  Bodrum, not my fave. 

The Kindness of Strangers

The generosity of people always and forever amazes me. (As does their lameness and ineptitude, but that's another story.) 

Today was a big travel day - not a tourist day, but travel day. Cappadocia to Istanbul to Izmir to Bodrum. If you look on a map, you'll see not all that close to each other. Although a few legs of air travel made it much quicker overall, it was still a serious day of planes, trains (well, buses) and automobiles.  And with all those various forms of transporation, especially since all of it wasn't set in stone - or even really figured out - came interaction with a multitude of people.

As I've known and now confirmed many times over, there are pros and cons to planning - i'm talking about solid, definite plans. It was a beautiful thing that I had 'planned' my trip so that I would be able to be 'unplanned,' staying longer in Istanbul, venturing out into the rest of the country and delaying my flight to Singapore. And when I 'planned' this side trip, also included was a bit of the 'unplanned.' I had decided that seeing and exploring the Aegean coast would be a part of my week, but at the time didn't know exactly where on the Aegean coast I'd go to. So booking a flight to Izmir, the third largest city in Turkey and hence a major hub, and figuring out later exactly where & what I wanted to do, seemed like a good plan, especially as there are many bus routes/companies that run along the coast. But once I determined, while still in Istanbul, how much time I had to spend after my Cappadocia journey and realized that Bodrum was the farthest south I would really be able to go, it's then I should have thought about changing my flight. But I didn't... Shoulda, woulda, coulda. Only when we were landing in Istanbul, and the connecting flights were being announced, did the lightbulb go off in the head. Duh, yes, I should fly to directly to Bodrum not Izmir. And as there was a flight that was leaving for Bodrum about the same time as mine, after getting off the plan, I immediately went to the ticket counter to see about changing my flight. 

I felt like I was back in Croatia. Unhelpful, rude, uninterested in trying to help and/or understand what I was asking, then just providing wrong information so to end the conversation.  The flight part seemed pretty clear - it was overbooked and there wasn't another one until 9:30pm.  Even though it was only 1:30pm, I actually paused for a moment to think about it, as the four hour bus ride ahead of me was at forefront of my mind. The wheels turned.. theoretically, I could store my bag, get on the Metro, go into Istanbul for a walk, a meal, a tea and go back. Nah. Fuck it. What I needed was to move on, move forward and find someplace to wire in so I could see if the reservation I made in Bodrum was confirmed. Again, Croatia. No one seemed to know shit about getting online, how or where - or why. The information desk was uninformed. The guys at the wireless phone booth, who I figured might know something, were clueless, dumb and only wanted to sell me a phone. The cafe people were rude and unhelpful. And the costs of everything were outrageous. Yeah, yeah, airport prices. But I was in a pissy mood and it was only adding to my irritation.  And although that first airline woman seemed pretty damn confident about there being only one flight later that night to Bodrum, I had a nagging doubt. So before wandering, somewhat randomly and aimlessly, looking for my never-to-be-found wireless connection, I got a ticket for the incredibly long line of people waiting to buy tickets from the airline. It's a very small area, so saw the numbers being called from everywhere I walked. Then just as my flight was about to board, my number came up. My last ditch effort to avoid the dreaded four hour bus trip...  Here I found the only nice guy in the airport, as far as I could tell. There actually was another flight at 5pm and I could get on it.  But the high cost of the penalties didn't outweigh that bus trip right then. So I gave up. Both on flying to Bodrum and knowing what I'd do when I got there.

An hour later in Izmir, I had to deal. What's up with the bus to Bodrum, and what about a hotel room. I never did ask if there was a flight from Izmir to Bodrum... so tried that one on for size. No such luck. Went to the Info desk to confirm this and figure out the bus situation. Not much on the English front, but the woman and I got through it. Upshot - No internet connection in Izmir airport. That was clear. Bus to bus station was a 40 minute ride, a place where there would also be no internet connection, and it was leaving in 10 minutes. There was also a bus leaving in 30 minutes that would take me directly to Izmir, where I"d most likely find an internet cafe nearby, but then I'd be, 30-40 minutes from the bus station. The question was, how badly did I need to figure out the hotel situation before I got there? And the answer, not that badly. Best to catch the bus to the bus station and wing it. 

I ran down to the arrival area where the buses were, but of course by the time I got down there, I'd just missed the bus. One hour til the next one...   The guy managing the bus situation also spoke very little English, but when I explained where I was going and what I was trying to do, he so badly wanted to give me a few other options that might make it easier, quicker. I thought I understood what he was trying to say, but couldn't confirm. An exhausted looking middle-aged Turkish woman, who looked like she'd had quite a day of travel herself, was sitting there listening and joined in to help. In the end, after much back and forth between her and him and her and me, it was clear the first option of going directly to the bus station was the way to go. 

And so with that confirmed - again, 30 minutes left to get some water and go to the bathroom.  As I walked back in the airport, I eyed a Travel Service desk where a young guy and an older women sat. She had a bit of a Turkish scowl, but he looked friendly enough, so I asked if there was anywhere to get an Internet connection.  I just couldn't let it go... (it also seemed unfathomable to me.)  His English was pretty good and said I could come behind his desk and just use his computer. Wow! Joy of joys! She seemed to frown a bit, and there was an exchange - about what, I had no idea - but he seemed to ignore her and I came around and pulled up a chair. I couldn't have been happier to see my gmail account come up - except when I saw I didn't get an email from this hotel. Incredulous, actually. As I sat there shaking my head, he sensed my frustration and offered to help me find a hotel. We discussed cost, number of nights, location, etc.  Again, he and the lady conversed. They tried to call a friend who knew of places there, but no answer. So we looked on the lame aggregate hotel website I'd been using for other options and then googled for the number. No luck. She harumphed and pulled out a Bodrum hotel book. In literally a few seconds I picked one out that seemed reasonable, he called from his own cell, made the reservation, confirmed the price, done deal. He couldn't have been nicer, kinder, more patient. He was exactly the person I needed at that moment.  Five minutes til bus time. 

As I came up to the depot area, immediately the nice bus guy saw me and told me which bus to get on, and making sure I was totally set, he explained to the bus driver where I was going. A young, pretty girl on the bus overheard this, so when I sat down, she leaned over and told me that she spoke English and could help me when I got there. She looked so very much like my friend Paula in New York, that I found myself a bit confused for a second. She was very sweet - in University stilll, but teaching English as well in Istanbul. Talked about Istanbul, teaching, New York a bit, and Converse sneakers. (I'd already noticed in Istanbul that EVERY kid wears them here, as did she. It feels like it is almost the only brand here. Aparently I chose well, as I am wearing the same this summer.)  When we got to the bus station, she walked me over to the bus desks - each one has their own separate area - and directly to one of the better, recommended bus lines (a general consensus confirmed by the bus man, the Turkish lady and her.). She spoke to the man behind the counter, told me how much to pay and then cirlced the gate number and seat number on the ticket for me. Then we said goodbye, but not before I gave her my name and email address so we could connect on Facebook. (Which we already have.)   

On a re-read, it doesn't sound like much. But these four people went out of their way to help me - someone they don't know, and will never see again. Silly little things - directions, information, a kind smile - but when you're in a country that isn't yours, that does things slightly different, when you don't know exactly where you're going or how much time it takes to get there and all in a language you don't understand, their time and interest in helping counts for more than something. I never for a moment throughout any part of my day was remotely concerned it wouldn't work out. I'd already prepared to take the bus ride - just had hoped to get out of it. And if I hadn't booked a hotel in Bodrum before i got there, no matter how late (it was almost midnight when I arrived) i knew I'd find one. Bodrum is not a sleepy town, but known for its late nights. And things always have a way of working themsleves out. Especially when you don't really need to be anywhere specific, and at no specific time. But these people made it smoother, easier, more enjoyable...  And aside from the many thanks I gave them at the time, will never know my appreciation, or that I even gave them another thought. But I have. 

Rock Tour

Well, on day 2, I did gain more of an appreciation of these ancient rocks; the basis for formation after a volcanic eruption, the history - 400,000 years (unfathomable) and the ancient civilization. But the Turkish woman who advised me on my week excursion was right, as was I too about my instincts - the day, day and a half, was more than enough. And as many things go in life, the people and vibe of it all was what really made the difference, made it enjoyable.

I took the hotel's group tour - one of few I'll be taking along the way. Not that it was bad. It wasn't - and it was definitely the way to do this place, and was how/where I'd met some lovely people. It's just that 'herd mentality' i have real issues with - always have & apparently, still do. And, well, my attention span, very limited, unless i'm leading...another story. Nonetheless, for this outing, we were taken via mini bus to a handful of "snapshot" locations, a winery (lame, with bad wine), a ceramic factory (more lame), a lunch place that was fairly inedible, and a nice hike at day's end. But even with all of that, remarkably, still enjoyable. Aside from the people and the stunning views, the best thing by far was the underground cities. More than anything else, it gave picture to the descriptions of these ancient times, its people and how they lived and survived in these caves. It was very difficult to get a good picture, but to the side is my attempt. Essentially there were winding little paths that opened into small rooms for living - sleeping, communal eating, etc. The ceilings were extremely low and the paths very narrow. At some points I imagined they must have been very small people - and for tourists, it would be quite difficult for someone on the larger side to get through.  But as the guides tell it, they weren't short and small, but as these caves were used to hide and protect themselves from intruders, the narrowness and shortness of the paths ensured only one person could get through at a time. Everything was about keeping their location secret and the enemy out. 

The guide, Levent, was young, very well informed and loved the history of the place and Turkey, in general, so was enthusiastic and informative. And until the very end of the day when he wanted to dispel any notion one might have about the reality of an Armenian genocide, I liked him. I'm currently reading a book about this issue and I found it somewhat infuriating and appalling that he took this opportunity to espouse his political views. However common they may be in Turkey, they certainly aren't in the rest of the international community - and he was speaking with a bus load of them - literally. A few middle-aged women from America took issue with him. They, however, were verbal about it, while i just mumbled to myself and my friend, George. Levent's response, "We're just having a conversation here." Yet he was the only one with a mic in his hand....  He was lucky, as we all were, that it was the end of the day, and literally pulling up to the hotel. In hindsight, it did make me question the rest of the historical account he provided all day. But I tend to think he hit upon one of, if not the most, sensitive and disputed points in the history he was relaying. 

The group on the tour was an interesting mix. George, a young guy from Crete, who lives in Athens, was the only other solo traveler, so we became partners & friends immediately. Smart dude, many degrees - history, international politics, business, currently applying to Stanford for another - was on a weekend trip from business in Istanbul. His knowledge of Turkish history, along with his own country's, made for interesting dialogue between him and the guide, Levent. Word and food origins, the 1922 population exchanges, etc. 

During lunch, George and I sat with Lauren and David, a very attractive, intelligent, mid-20's couple from Melbourne. He's a lawyer, she's a graphic designer. Extremely well traveled... Somehow late in our day, during the hike, it came to pass they were Jewish. Wouldn't have ever guessed it, and apparently they wouldn't have about me either - except again, I'd used a yiddish word that tipped them off. Can't remember what it was - it wasn't schlep or smear, but something of that ilk. A word I think of as 'New York', not yiddish. Funny. Interesting thing the Jewish bond. Immediately it gave me, and I'm pretty certain them as well, a connection that didn't exist five minutes before the realization. I imagine that must be true for other persecuted minorities of the world (again, reading about the Armenians now), but I only know about the Jews....  Conversation never at a loss. Lots of travel talk, of course. (They weren't huge fans of Thailand - although one artist community in the North, Pai, they loved. And also loved Laos, so gave me suggestions there..I have a feeling Laos may on the list now.) Also talk of media, politics and of course the Jewish communities - in Australia, America and Turkey. They told me about a walking tour they took in Istanbul and about going to shul one Friday night. (Way more adventurous - and commited than I.) But they did give me the name of the tour, which I contacted (along with faxing my passport info to them for security reasons) as a (good) possible option for my last morning in Istanbul on Thursday.

 

Also included in the mix was an odd group of three - a woman & her young son from Northern California and her sister from Arizona. I'd met them the day before at the Open Air Museum. At first I found her somewhat rude and aloof. But then I just realized it was her mannerisms and way of speaking. Though, whe was hardly a 'warm' person, not even with her son, who I thought was incredibly well behaved for a 5 year old on a trip like this, she was interested and totally engaged. Her sister, however, was an utter dolt. I kept wondering how someone actually gets through life like that - not sure I heard her utter more than a few words, if that. Her son, Ahmet, was totally adorable. Cute little personality, a bit shy at first. But once I told him how much I liked his sunglasses, he were buddies and he was offering me his tic tacs (through his mother.) He seemed to like to snap the pictures - what kid doesn't!- so after he took one of me and George, told him everyone wanted a picture he took... (the picture he's taking here, is of the folks from Melbourne.) There was another couple, two women from Tokyo, who I only spoke with briefly that day. (Background of shot with me and George.) But got to know them better on the way to the airport the following morning. Very quiet, both of them (one Japanese, the other English) translators. Nice to know someone if/when I get to Tokyo..   There were a handful of others in the group as well, but didn't engage much with them. 

Ended the day having a lovely dinner with my Melbourne friends and then a last tea with my friend Sincey at Sultan Carpets. George had told me about the very fun, very late night he'd had upon getting to town the night before - lots of booze, pot, guitars, singing - and invited me to join him that evening for a replay. Unfortunately, when we got back from the day, he went off for his haman (turkish bath) appointment and I got a bite with Lauren and David and we missed each other.  So sadly, missed out on that one.  But as it turned out, I needed all the energy I could muster for the next days' travel.

Bedrock

OK, it's really Cappadocia, but Fred and Wilma would have felt right at home here.  I'm not the first genius to see that one (See picture). But really, was this the inspiration for the Flinstones? It had to have been.. 

When I decided to come to Istanbul, I got lots of notes from people who said I had to go to Cappadocia. I knew of it, looked into it some more, and decided it just wasn't calling my name. But when I decided to spend a week outside of the urban Istanbul sprawl, I wandered into a Turkey tourism office and a strong, opinionated, heavy-set, early 60's Turkish woman made the call for me. Initially, she just handed me maps and booklets, and then we started really talking, so I asked her where one should go if they had a week. She didn't want to answer, sounding like a Jewish bubby, "I don't know, it's up to you, I can't say for you." But as we continued further, and I started leaning against going to Cappadocia based more than anything on the logistics of getting there, she gently, but firmly took hold of my arm, looked me in my eyes and said "You have to. If you love Turkey and stayed in Istanbul this long, you have to go and see our history. For a day, that's it. Go, see, then leave."  And so I'm here. 

The reality is, if I knew anything (at all) about religion, Christianity, archaeology or architecture, it might all mean something more to me. But I know shit about all of those things. Which is why I hesitated to begin with.  All I see in front of me is natural beauty and the weight of history - a lot of very old, incredibly unique rocks set against a brilliant sky and a combination of desert and rich green topography. But that's okay with me. I'm in the quaint, small town of Goreme, the hotel I'm staying at, Hotel Berek, one of the many famous "cave hotels," is lovely, as are, of course, the people. The whole thing feels like upscale kitsch, somehow. 

While walking through town, on my way for a tourist afternoon walk to and through the Open Museum, I ran into Mehmet, a guy who works at the hotel. (The name Mehmet is apparently on par with being John or John Smith.) Mehmet was eating lunch his friends and invited me over to join them, have a slice of watermelon... and to (naturally), stop by their carpet shop on my way back.  One of his friends there, Sincey (pronounced Shauncey), the manager of the shop, spoke excellent English, with an interesting accent, and just had a really good vibe about him. So after my "rock tour," I stopped by to visit him. (I joke about the rock tour thing - it is truly beautiful. But once you've seen one stone apse, you've seen them all, especially when playing a video game of 'avoid the tourist group' to actually get a look inside. Maybe tomorrow during the 'official' tour i'm taking, I'll appreciate the significance more..) 

Sincey and I, fast friends. Although not formally educated past 16, very smart, intelligent, worldly, obviously a natural businessman and salesman - in the best possible sense of those words. His passion for rug making is his obsession, admittedly so. He's a collector and each of these pieces are art to him - the history behind each rug, its age, material, dyes, the region it came from, maybe the family or individual who made it. His love and passion exuded from him. Not even remotely like the 'typical' carpet man that gets a bad rap - for a reason.  He's someone who sells beause of his love, not because he loves the sell. (He's the only vendor that ABC Carpets in New York buys its Turkish carpets from - and he informed me that ABC is THE ONLY shop in the entire United States that sells geniune carpets from Turkey, as opposed to Turkish carpets made in India, Pakistan and China. Who would have known?) I bowed down to his knowledge and love of this craft. It was infectious. Although I do appreciate the artistry of the craft, even more so after talking with Sincey, they just aren't aesthetically a draw for me. I did pause for a second though, as the ones created by the Gypsies - more organic, wilder and less intricate symbols - were pretty cool. And his stories about them added to the interest. But it didn't go beyond the passing thought in my head. And he didn't for a second EVER suggest I purchase anything.  THAT's how good he was!

Over the course of two hours and many teas, we chatted about money and education, the growing chasm between the very rich and the very poor here, how that kind of money is made here (drugs, guns and carpets), lifestyle choices - and the many/most who don't have any choices at all, charity & giving of ourselves, our families (his sister happens to work at the American Hospital), Health care in Turkey, America (he's been more places there than most Americans), pot, international do's and dont's on traveling with the stuff, Midnight Express... and then he was kind enough to indulge me and share a very large, Bob Marley-like spliff. If it only didn't have all that tobacco mixed in.... but beggars can't be choosers.  I had a strange kinship with him.  Very different worlds and lives the two of us, but not so different in heart and soul.  The world sometimes feels like a very small place.  But when I walked back to my hotel and looked up to see the sun falling off behind the vast expanse of sky, rock and land, and it was I who felt small again. 

Parting Thoughts

I grew to love Cihangir (and to actually pronounce it correctly.. i think.)  It's like any city living, you find the neighborhood that fits, and this one I wear well. Mellow, friendly, family-like, neighborhood vibe. If I were to live here... this is where I'd lay my bags. 

I love the sweet boys at Kafeta who always made me feel welcome with an "Oh, Suzie," when I walked up - even from the ones whose only other English words were tea, coffee, Obama and Facebook.

I love that when you buy a Metro ticket (coin, actually), they always give you the coin first and then your change - which, upon first arrival is somewhat confusing as the Metro coin doesn't feel all that different from the Lire coins. And a little embarrasing as the Metro guy has to explain to you that you've put the token in your pocket... 

I strangely love that cat food is left all over the streets for these strays. Strangely, as I'm not all that into cats and it's sort of gross actually...

I love that the fruit looks, smells and tastes amazing, is staggeringly cheap as hell, and is everywhere. 

I love that it was gorgeous, clear, dry and sunny 99.5% of the time I was here.  Perfect summer weather. 

I love that I can hear the ferry horns blowing from (my) apartment.

I love that sometimes I don't even hear the chanting. And love when I do. 

I love that people hang for hours and hours sipping tea and coffee, playing backgammon, talking, smoking... or just watching the world go by. 

I love that I made a good friend with someone who I learned more about by just being with, than through extensive dialogue, as that wasn't an option. 

I love that every neighborhood is so incredibly different, yet universally, the people are all friendly, helpful, animated, loud and emotional.

I love that everyone here has told me to be wary of people trying to hustle me, yet I never felt that at all - except appropriately, down at the Bazaar and the tourist area, Sultanahmet. 

I loved discovering that everyone's list of MUST do, see and eat really aren't all that MUST do anything... (Except for the view at the Mikla in the Marmara Pera Hotel... that is THE BEST, MUST SEE view EVER.  Forgot my camera when I went, but in a million years I would never have been able to capture it.) 

I love that the sweet waiter at Gani Gani shakes my hand when I return for a meal. And always desperately wants to provide me with tea before I leave. 

I love that the cars drive like manics, and the pedestrians risk life and limb to cross the street. But that I've never seen one even close mishap. 

I love watching the neighboorhood cafes' waiters deliver tea to the local shops - not in to-go cups, but just as it is served, in glass cups on saucers.  

I love that after climbing 5 flights of stairs, I had the most amazing view morning, noon or night. (Although late afternoon, when the Bosphorous was bluer than blue and the wind started to pick up, was my favorite.) 

I love that I'll be coming back to Istanbul, and Cihangir, and this apartment for one more night next week.... for one last goodbye.  

The Islands

I finally got myself to the Princes' Islands, or as most Istanbullus just call them, The Islands. And also met someone who doesn't love Obama. 

On the ferry, a woman started talking with me about the my Kindle (apparently a good conversation starter) which led to talk about books, politics, travel, America. She's from Miami, been here 7 years with her husband and with more kids than I could count. She and her husband (who I found out later in the conversation is a Rabbi), work for the Chabad, and are obviouly not huge fans of "Barry" as she called him. Not completely against him either.. but quite cautious. I know why, of course, but I didn't want to go there. Even though at this point she told me she had already intuited I was Jewish as I used the word 'schlepped' - which is pretty hilarious. (Even more hilarious to me for some reason, I looked them up & the Rabbi is on Twitter...)  I told her that coincidentally I had just gone to Galata yesterday to see Neve Shalom Synaogue and the security was shocking - serious secret service looking guys, dressed in suits, sunglasses and talking into mini-microphones. As the synagogue has been a terrorist target on a handful of occasions, it isn't surprising, but nonetheless, found it intimiating and didn't get close at all.  

 

Anyway, she and her brood were on their way to Buyukada, the largest of the Islands for the summer exodus - apparently a big destination for the Jewish Istanbullas. Not unlike Fire Island, the Hamptons, or the Catskills, as it were. She wasn't someone I'd want to spent too much time with, but certainly an interesting perspective on things... and she gave me her husband's card and email address just in case I was in Turkey for the High Holidays and needed a place to go... !

Buyukada is quite charming. At first felt like a mix of Fire Island and Key West - no cars, only bikes, some motorcycles and lots of horse drawn carriages, whose aroma overwhelms everything. Bikes were being rented everywhere, so figured that was the way to check out the island. Rode for an hour, mostly residential homes. Not surprisingly, large, gorgeous homes closer to town, smaller less interesting architecturally ones, the further out you got. The actual town is a small area of winding roads filled with beach-like shops - food, bathing suits/beachwear, souveniers, etc.

 

I stopped for lunch at a little fish place and had one of the best meals I've had here. I bi-passed the "fancier" places on the water, figuring they were probably more "touristy," even though not touristy in the "city sense" of the word and chose a small little place. Seriously - i'm so NOT a fish lover - but I took the owners' advice (who let me know he lived in New York years ago) and ordered a small green salad and the whole grilled sea bass (instead of the fried calamari which I really didn't need anwyay after many pieces of balklava the night before...)  Fantastic!  So fresh, so yummy, so cheap. The entire lunch was 16 TLR, which is about 10 bucks. Awesome.  

Not a hell of a lot to see, so hopped on the next ferry over to Heybeliada, the second largest island - ten minute ride, if that. If Buyukada was sleepy, this place was fast asleep. Only activity was on the main strip when you got off the ferry. Other than that, all residential little streets, with virtually not a sole on them. Got an ice cream cone, took a stroll around, sat on the pier, read a little and got the next ferry back to Kabatas in Istanbul.

I can see why it isn't a huge tourist excursion - and why it is a summer destination for the city folk. But glad I checked it out. Another gorgeous sunny day here, another reason to ride the ferry, and a great meal. What's not to like...

Settled In

Just as when your eyes adjust to walking out into the brightness of the sun or into the darkeness of a movie theatre, so too, your senses adjust to a new place.  No longer do you see the little alleys or shops or small signs of cultural differences in the same way as when you first arrived.  It's still new, but not as.  My senses, although in tune, aren't responding now with the same awe and wonder. The initial reverance, lessened by ease and comfort. Same as when in New York, I don't walk down the streets of the West Village everyday thinking how cute, how charming, how lucky I am to live here. (Wouldn't it be nice if we did... but we don't.)  

I've hit that point. I'm still thrilled by this city, but not enthralled. I know exactly where I am, and if I don't, can easily figure my way back to or from. I walk with ease, with camera in hand, because I can, having no need to search or find, or any fear of stopping in someones path. I don't feel like a tourist, and at times don't even feel like a foreigner, which I realize is somewhat bizarre considering the majority of all signage and conversation is lost on me. Maybe, some things just make sense without any need for translation. 

Everyone Loves Obama

They ask "where?" I answer "New York, America."

They say "Obama," with huge smiles on their face.

Everyone.