Monday, July 27, 2009
Öland, Sweden - Shelby
Greetings from Öland!
We arrived in Stockholm on the 23rd and were elated to be picked up by Fredrick Anders (Anders' namesake) and his wife Annika. They drove us to where we would be staying for the next 2 nights- the home of Brengt and Lotte, our hosts in Öland. They had already travelled down there, and we were staying at their home in Stockholm while waiting for Roy and Kathy to arrive the next day. It was a wonderful chic Swedish condo, stylized very much like Ikea, though with a much more personal touch of warmth and life. The buildings were made in the mid nineties to the courent day, and were made with green designs in mind. For instance, there is a food waste chute on the side of the building that goes to a processor to create heat to warm one of the complexes! Also, all the lights turn off with motion inactivity and the toilets have a low flush and a lower flush option (as have almost all toilets we´ve experienced on our trip! America is sooo behind the times!).
Roy and Kathy arrived and the next day we travelled the 5 hours to Öland, Anders and I on a bus and Kathy and Roy with Anders (the 1st) and Annika, and their son. At the end of the line, we hopped on a very slow ferry that took us to Öland. We got here yesterday and it is very beautiful - a lot like Vashon or Orcas island. Its very comfortable and casual - the main house being very old and there are three outbuildings, one is our cabin where the four of us are staying, another is a cabin where some other guests are staying, and another building that is used as a kitchen and dining area. Lotte is a caterer, and last night she cooked a delicious meal for everyone, including a vegan option for me! I am so grateful! and it was delicious!
Tomorrow night is the big party, with 150 in attendence, and the next day is my birthday! then on to amsterdam.
Love to all, Shelby
We arrived in Stockholm on the 23rd and were elated to be picked up by Fredrick Anders (Anders' namesake) and his wife Annika. They drove us to where we would be staying for the next 2 nights- the home of Brengt and Lotte, our hosts in Öland. They had already travelled down there, and we were staying at their home in Stockholm while waiting for Roy and Kathy to arrive the next day. It was a wonderful chic Swedish condo, stylized very much like Ikea, though with a much more personal touch of warmth and life. The buildings were made in the mid nineties to the courent day, and were made with green designs in mind. For instance, there is a food waste chute on the side of the building that goes to a processor to create heat to warm one of the complexes! Also, all the lights turn off with motion inactivity and the toilets have a low flush and a lower flush option (as have almost all toilets we´ve experienced on our trip! America is sooo behind the times!).
Roy and Kathy arrived and the next day we travelled the 5 hours to Öland, Anders and I on a bus and Kathy and Roy with Anders (the 1st) and Annika, and their son. At the end of the line, we hopped on a very slow ferry that took us to Öland. We got here yesterday and it is very beautiful - a lot like Vashon or Orcas island. Its very comfortable and casual - the main house being very old and there are three outbuildings, one is our cabin where the four of us are staying, another is a cabin where some other guests are staying, and another building that is used as a kitchen and dining area. Lotte is a caterer, and last night she cooked a delicious meal for everyone, including a vegan option for me! I am so grateful! and it was delicious!
Tomorrow night is the big party, with 150 in attendence, and the next day is my birthday! then on to amsterdam.
Love to all, Shelby
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
July 22nd- Anders
Florence, Firenze; a focus of Western culture 5 Centuries ago, now standing in remembrance, museums and tourist priced shops dominate this once pinnacle of human existence. Maybe I am mistaken in my observance of life here but a memory seems to drive an economy.
On a tuesday (now a wednesday) Shelby and I walked 4km out of the tourist town, waling past Ponte Vecchio (click here to see it), walking past two more bridges we are now off the map that has led our adventures for the past week. Prada shops no more, gellatarios dissapear, museums are not to be found, we walk by a compound, fenced in, barred off, decorated with red flags positioned like sentries, and a sign is posted with a hammer and sickle symbol, i can read only one word: Communisto, we walk past a "Blockbuster," an antique shop (if i were to buy real Florentine goods I would buy them here); quiet city apartment laden blocks, wider streets, faster cars, blazing bikers and finally after 45 minutes after our departure, our destination: an Italian Vegetarian restaurant.
There is no english menu, there are only Italian patrons (like the vegetarian jewish restaurant we visited the night before), no pizza is served, the prices are 7-18 euros a meal, just like most pizza/pasta shops except this food is cared for, prepared more lovingly, carefully, we have to wait for our waitress to decide on a dish, to translate the menu. One woman spoke enough of our language to help us (i am humbly grateful)- seitan with mushrooms, veggie skewed role baked and on rice- yes and yes, oh, and some wine; blanco, dry.
The restaurant is cared for, delicately decorated with old fashion magazines from the 50s and 60s hand pasted om the walls, collagé.
This is not a tourist restaurant, this is just a restaurant, in Italia, for Italians, for lovers. for foodies, unlike any others during our distant travels.
The food elates our mood, "i feel drunk" Shelby says afterwards. I ate with my eyes closed, we talked occasionally, sparingly, mainly about the taste, the sauce, the tender seitan, the salad dressong, sautéed mushrooms on a spongy wheat germ past (seitan, click here for what is seitan), perfection, zuchinni, aubergine (eggplant) and greens on oiled rice, sweetly nice.
We smile at each other between bites, while chewing, renewing our lust for wondrous foodie stuff, at the end it is not enough, tomorrow we dine here again.
On a tuesday (now a wednesday) Shelby and I walked 4km out of the tourist town, waling past Ponte Vecchio (click here to see it), walking past two more bridges we are now off the map that has led our adventures for the past week. Prada shops no more, gellatarios dissapear, museums are not to be found, we walk by a compound, fenced in, barred off, decorated with red flags positioned like sentries, and a sign is posted with a hammer and sickle symbol, i can read only one word: Communisto, we walk past a "Blockbuster," an antique shop (if i were to buy real Florentine goods I would buy them here); quiet city apartment laden blocks, wider streets, faster cars, blazing bikers and finally after 45 minutes after our departure, our destination: an Italian Vegetarian restaurant.
There is no english menu, there are only Italian patrons (like the vegetarian jewish restaurant we visited the night before), no pizza is served, the prices are 7-18 euros a meal, just like most pizza/pasta shops except this food is cared for, prepared more lovingly, carefully, we have to wait for our waitress to decide on a dish, to translate the menu. One woman spoke enough of our language to help us (i am humbly grateful)- seitan with mushrooms, veggie skewed role baked and on rice- yes and yes, oh, and some wine; blanco, dry.
The restaurant is cared for, delicately decorated with old fashion magazines from the 50s and 60s hand pasted om the walls, collagé.
This is not a tourist restaurant, this is just a restaurant, in Italia, for Italians, for lovers. for foodies, unlike any others during our distant travels.
The food elates our mood, "i feel drunk" Shelby says afterwards. I ate with my eyes closed, we talked occasionally, sparingly, mainly about the taste, the sauce, the tender seitan, the salad dressong, sautéed mushrooms on a spongy wheat germ past (seitan, click here for what is seitan), perfection, zuchinni, aubergine (eggplant) and greens on oiled rice, sweetly nice.
We smile at each other between bites, while chewing, renewing our lust for wondrous foodie stuff, at the end it is not enough, tomorrow we dine here again.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Florence - Shelby
Hello -
We've been having a great time in Firenze! Luckily, the heat of the first 3 days had died down and there is a warm breeze (and at times wind) that has been keeping us cool(er). We moved across town to our second hostel - this one we are staying at for 5 days. It's nice to experience another part of the city, as this is on the other, less populated, side of the river, though still close to museums and plazzas.
Since here we've attended many museums -
- The Plazza Pitti, which housed the Boboli Gardens (a huge network of formal Italian Renaissance gardens and sculptures) and the Costume Museum. The costume Museum was amazing - I loved every moment of it and it was so cool to see in real life all the costumes that I have studied and rendered in college! The beauty and exquisiteness of the embroidery was something I needed to see in person to be able to appreciate on a deeper level.
- The Uffizi Gallery, which contains the largest collection of Italian Renaissance art anywhere in the world. Masters such as Botticelli, DaVinci, and others. Paintings, sculpture, bronze and silver casting. We got to see some of the famous paintings like The Birth of Venus and Adam & Eve, as well as the largest collection of Medieval Art pretty much anywhere.
- Anthropology Museum, which was a collection of relics from Native cultures from all over the world. Oddly, it's the one museum in Florence that has nothing to do with florence, but it was very cool none the less.
- Science Museum, which displayed a huge collection of antique science, medical, and math instruments, as well as a huge telescope and microscope display. Plenty of astrolabes and instruments used to chart the stars and study Astrology.
- Galileo exhibit, was a special exhibit only on this summer, and it followed societies beliefs and studies of the heavens and Astrology from the Mesopotamians and the Egyptians until Galileo. Origins of Astrology and the Zodiac were explained in immense detail, and the crowning glory of the exhibit was Galielo's middle finger, enshrined in a glass egg. Weird.
- Borgello Museum, also known as the sculpture museum, it housed many great statuaries and fountains of marble, sandstone, and other unknown rocks, as well as bronze and iron castings, terra cotta, and wood and wax. Some beauties by Donatello, as well as early renderings and practice pieces by Davinci. Also, the museum housed a great collection of relics from the Italian Renaissance, such as jewelery, armor, home furnishings, worship related objects, and bobbles and trinkets. Very awesome.
Lots of love to all, and I hope you've had a good July so far!
Shelby
We've been having a great time in Firenze! Luckily, the heat of the first 3 days had died down and there is a warm breeze (and at times wind) that has been keeping us cool(er). We moved across town to our second hostel - this one we are staying at for 5 days. It's nice to experience another part of the city, as this is on the other, less populated, side of the river, though still close to museums and plazzas.
Since here we've attended many museums -
- The Plazza Pitti, which housed the Boboli Gardens (a huge network of formal Italian Renaissance gardens and sculptures) and the Costume Museum. The costume Museum was amazing - I loved every moment of it and it was so cool to see in real life all the costumes that I have studied and rendered in college! The beauty and exquisiteness of the embroidery was something I needed to see in person to be able to appreciate on a deeper level.
- The Uffizi Gallery, which contains the largest collection of Italian Renaissance art anywhere in the world. Masters such as Botticelli, DaVinci, and others. Paintings, sculpture, bronze and silver casting. We got to see some of the famous paintings like The Birth of Venus and Adam & Eve, as well as the largest collection of Medieval Art pretty much anywhere.
- Anthropology Museum, which was a collection of relics from Native cultures from all over the world. Oddly, it's the one museum in Florence that has nothing to do with florence, but it was very cool none the less.
- Science Museum, which displayed a huge collection of antique science, medical, and math instruments, as well as a huge telescope and microscope display. Plenty of astrolabes and instruments used to chart the stars and study Astrology.
- Galileo exhibit, was a special exhibit only on this summer, and it followed societies beliefs and studies of the heavens and Astrology from the Mesopotamians and the Egyptians until Galileo. Origins of Astrology and the Zodiac were explained in immense detail, and the crowning glory of the exhibit was Galielo's middle finger, enshrined in a glass egg. Weird.
- Borgello Museum, also known as the sculpture museum, it housed many great statuaries and fountains of marble, sandstone, and other unknown rocks, as well as bronze and iron castings, terra cotta, and wood and wax. Some beauties by Donatello, as well as early renderings and practice pieces by Davinci. Also, the museum housed a great collection of relics from the Italian Renaissance, such as jewelery, armor, home furnishings, worship related objects, and bobbles and trinkets. Very awesome.
Lots of love to all, and I hope you've had a good July so far!
Shelby
Saturday, July 18, 2009
july 18th- Anders
Florentine days, adjusting to this citys ways.
we came in on a train after waking up on a ship floating in from Croatia, a 2km walk from the ship to the stazzione and a 2 hour wait for our passenger train. it took two trains to get from Ancona to Firenze (Florence), the first train was crowded with narrow halls giving access to 6 seater rooms, we didnt read our tickets thoroughly enough so we tried to find seats as if in a melee, confusion and bag obtrusions, bumping and clumping down halls and through box car divider doors, we finally found two seats and throwing our bags above, left slumping, we sit, mistakingly, comfortably. for several stops we sat till 2 people speaking italian gibberish garbled at our room, we looked confused, shelby puppy-eyed, then someone translates for us, "look at your ticket, go find your seat number," we do more bumping and clumping till seats 43 and 44 are found, we sit, comfortably, unmistakingly.
i read for the rest of the 2 hour train ride, shelby reads too and then takes a nap, stiff necked, drooped lip, i watched as she kept waking up to close her mouth but her little pursed lip kept dropping and i kept watching: oh-so-cute.
our stop arrives, the trains is 15 minutes late to our 20 minute lay-over, down to the tunnel we run, find the electronic info board and rush to our train on platform one, the hustle of travel is fun. we board to find general seating and a sparse crowd, we take our place next to a window to watch the countryside, soon to be Tuscany.
The train travels through small towns, farms, hills, rivers, and the legacy of land logged for past societies, no building is new and all are well used, infrastructure built on old infrastructure. We get a view of it all, but just for moments, passing at moderate speeds catching glimpses of Italian rural life; quiet, slow, few cars and no bars.
Arriving in Firenze (Florence) the graffiti greets us, tags are present, but more art and specialty fonts are seen revealing a vibrant street art scene.
Firenze- Santa Maria Novella (SMN) is the last stop, we get off and walk with bags clasped to our soon sweating backs, taking a left at the McDonalds (Im resenting it) we trudge up Largo Fratelli Alinari which turns into Via Nazionale, past Piazza Independence and up Via di Santa Caterina d Alessandria, crossing Viala Spartacus Lavagini we find our hostel, first we tried to walk into the wrong hostel but an employee directed us across the street to an affiliated but different hostel, Emerald Palace not Emerald Fields.
After making this walk once it was simple to repeat, without gridded streets (which started with NY city) walking on a single course is a curvy affair and as i explained before this one path took 4 different streets all connected to one another. that first walk took place at 3pm, the heat of the day, oppressive and impressive, i didnt know italy could get this hot with such unreleaving wind.
After cheking into our 2nd story hostel and dropping off our backpacks we try to find food. "Try" is the focal word, nearby we try to walk into a chinese, japanese and italian restaurant, all closed, opening only for a late dinner. Pained and dehydrated, wet and overheated we walk back down the conglomeration of streets put together like crooked legos and finally find a cafe that is open, we humbly walk in, thankful, grateful, and i am wondering if they are serving food or just drinks, but a man comes over to take our order and without taking long we order a veggie salad, asparagus soup and plain tomato pasta, a minute later we got a big red beer to sip while we people watch. Italians have style, it pours from them like sweat and they wear their cloths like they were born with them.
It took us two days to adjust to the Florentine pace, but the adjustment was made: wake up early, sight see or get in a museum line before it gets too long, have lunch, return to the hostel to nap and relax till the sun the falls far enough away to not burn, get a late dinner and walk around town drinking on street corners and eating gelato, lots of gelato- mango, lemon, yogurt, rice, berries; ahhhh...my sweet cold, light and creamy friend: Gelato.
we came in on a train after waking up on a ship floating in from Croatia, a 2km walk from the ship to the stazzione and a 2 hour wait for our passenger train. it took two trains to get from Ancona to Firenze (Florence), the first train was crowded with narrow halls giving access to 6 seater rooms, we didnt read our tickets thoroughly enough so we tried to find seats as if in a melee, confusion and bag obtrusions, bumping and clumping down halls and through box car divider doors, we finally found two seats and throwing our bags above, left slumping, we sit, mistakingly, comfortably. for several stops we sat till 2 people speaking italian gibberish garbled at our room, we looked confused, shelby puppy-eyed, then someone translates for us, "look at your ticket, go find your seat number," we do more bumping and clumping till seats 43 and 44 are found, we sit, comfortably, unmistakingly.
i read for the rest of the 2 hour train ride, shelby reads too and then takes a nap, stiff necked, drooped lip, i watched as she kept waking up to close her mouth but her little pursed lip kept dropping and i kept watching: oh-so-cute.
our stop arrives, the trains is 15 minutes late to our 20 minute lay-over, down to the tunnel we run, find the electronic info board and rush to our train on platform one, the hustle of travel is fun. we board to find general seating and a sparse crowd, we take our place next to a window to watch the countryside, soon to be Tuscany.
The train travels through small towns, farms, hills, rivers, and the legacy of land logged for past societies, no building is new and all are well used, infrastructure built on old infrastructure. We get a view of it all, but just for moments, passing at moderate speeds catching glimpses of Italian rural life; quiet, slow, few cars and no bars.
Arriving in Firenze (Florence) the graffiti greets us, tags are present, but more art and specialty fonts are seen revealing a vibrant street art scene.
Firenze- Santa Maria Novella (SMN) is the last stop, we get off and walk with bags clasped to our soon sweating backs, taking a left at the McDonalds (Im resenting it) we trudge up Largo Fratelli Alinari which turns into Via Nazionale, past Piazza Independence and up Via di Santa Caterina d Alessandria, crossing Viala Spartacus Lavagini we find our hostel, first we tried to walk into the wrong hostel but an employee directed us across the street to an affiliated but different hostel, Emerald Palace not Emerald Fields.
After making this walk once it was simple to repeat, without gridded streets (which started with NY city) walking on a single course is a curvy affair and as i explained before this one path took 4 different streets all connected to one another. that first walk took place at 3pm, the heat of the day, oppressive and impressive, i didnt know italy could get this hot with such unreleaving wind.
After cheking into our 2nd story hostel and dropping off our backpacks we try to find food. "Try" is the focal word, nearby we try to walk into a chinese, japanese and italian restaurant, all closed, opening only for a late dinner. Pained and dehydrated, wet and overheated we walk back down the conglomeration of streets put together like crooked legos and finally find a cafe that is open, we humbly walk in, thankful, grateful, and i am wondering if they are serving food or just drinks, but a man comes over to take our order and without taking long we order a veggie salad, asparagus soup and plain tomato pasta, a minute later we got a big red beer to sip while we people watch. Italians have style, it pours from them like sweat and they wear their cloths like they were born with them.
It took us two days to adjust to the Florentine pace, but the adjustment was made: wake up early, sight see or get in a museum line before it gets too long, have lunch, return to the hostel to nap and relax till the sun the falls far enough away to not burn, get a late dinner and walk around town drinking on street corners and eating gelato, lots of gelato- mango, lemon, yogurt, rice, berries; ahhhh...my sweet cold, light and creamy friend: Gelato.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Florence - Shelby
Hello again!
So two days ago I had a stomach bug which forced me to stay in bed all day - too bad for our last day in Croatia (or so we thought... more on that in a moment), but luckily by the evening I had puked all there was to puke and by the morning I was feeling much better, though a little weak from the day of no food. Ah, the blessing of the 24 hour bug is that its gone in 24 hours. The next morning we had a Catamaran (fast ferry) reservation for 6am, and Mladan got us there just in time. We boarded the ship and got to Split, Croatia by 8:30am, which left us time to buy tickets for the 10am ferry to Ancona, Italy. Problem was, the time table that we were using was last years, and that ferry was no longer running... so the next available ferry was at 8:30pm. So we had to other option but to wait, and we had an unexpected extra day in Croatia. I watched the bags in a shady spot while Anders scouted out a restaurant other than cheap tourist food, and he found a lovely shaded cafe called the Black Cat with delicious food at inexpensive prices. We ended up staying there for about 4.5 hours! We then found another shady spot on a sidewalk and parked it there for a couple of hours, reading, playing cards, writing, people watching. We walked around a little bit to the old city, but it was soooo hot and we had to carry our bags, which was an added 25-30 pnds each, so we went back to the black cat for dinner (which was also delicious) and waited for our ferry.
It was a nice ferry, we got a sleeper cabin which was comfortable, and got to take showers! That was worth it alone!
This morning we woke up in Ancona at 7am, and took a train a couple of trains to get to Florence, where we arrived around 2. We found our hostel, which is nice, and we just got our first meal - which was more difficult that we thought since most restaurants close during the heat of the day for the siesta.
We'll explore more tonight once the sun goes down.
Love to all and hope everything is great at home -
Shelby
So two days ago I had a stomach bug which forced me to stay in bed all day - too bad for our last day in Croatia (or so we thought... more on that in a moment), but luckily by the evening I had puked all there was to puke and by the morning I was feeling much better, though a little weak from the day of no food. Ah, the blessing of the 24 hour bug is that its gone in 24 hours. The next morning we had a Catamaran (fast ferry) reservation for 6am, and Mladan got us there just in time. We boarded the ship and got to Split, Croatia by 8:30am, which left us time to buy tickets for the 10am ferry to Ancona, Italy. Problem was, the time table that we were using was last years, and that ferry was no longer running... so the next available ferry was at 8:30pm. So we had to other option but to wait, and we had an unexpected extra day in Croatia. I watched the bags in a shady spot while Anders scouted out a restaurant other than cheap tourist food, and he found a lovely shaded cafe called the Black Cat with delicious food at inexpensive prices. We ended up staying there for about 4.5 hours! We then found another shady spot on a sidewalk and parked it there for a couple of hours, reading, playing cards, writing, people watching. We walked around a little bit to the old city, but it was soooo hot and we had to carry our bags, which was an added 25-30 pnds each, so we went back to the black cat for dinner (which was also delicious) and waited for our ferry.
It was a nice ferry, we got a sleeper cabin which was comfortable, and got to take showers! That was worth it alone!
This morning we woke up in Ancona at 7am, and took a train a couple of trains to get to Florence, where we arrived around 2. We found our hostel, which is nice, and we just got our first meal - which was more difficult that we thought since most restaurants close during the heat of the day for the siesta.
We'll explore more tonight once the sun goes down.
Love to all and hope everything is great at home -
Shelby
Monday, July 13, 2009
July 13th- Anders
I have much to write about turkey, croatia has been more of an experience and relaxation than a story to write about. I have reflections and philosophy to write and am writing but that is for later, for this space is to give our experiences to you, not so much my thoughts (but some thoughts will be given).
Something about Turkey:
A Reflection
From speaking to Turkish people some history about its formation and government was made known to me. To begin, in Turkey free speech does not exist.
Ataturk was a general of the first world war that "brought independence" to Turkey after the fall of the Ottoman Empire in 1923. Upon creating Turkey Ataturk had a new language formed out of english, french and arabic; prior to this new language the people of this geographic region mainly spoke arabic, and kurdish. With this new language, that no commoner spoke, Ataturk drafted legislation and created the law of the Turkish land. I do not know when, but at some point a law was created that made it a serious crime to saying anything negative about Ataturk (trying to hide something are we Ataturk?).
The Kurdish people's land is divided between Turkey, Iraq, Iran and Syria and their people are spread even further. Under the order of Ataturk an entire kurdish town was exterminated; every mother, uncle, niece, infant and elder- many Kurds have never forgotten this, especially because it is recent history of the last two generations. There is a video on you tube (i do not know how it is found) of young women kurdish fighters battling in Eastern Turkey in this modern time, i was told they only live for an average of 3 years but they fight knowing they are giving their lives for the freedoms of another. A person raised with the pacifist domestic politics of the USA would think that violence is not the answer for domestic issues (and i would agree), but i was told that it is because of these Kurdish soldiers that it is no longer a criminal offense to speak Kurdish in Turkey, as it was only 10 years ago.
In Turkey breaking the law to "feed your family" is acceptable and an often used excuse to break the law or do something immoral to another, especially tourists. A turkish man we met said that this is mostly B.S., it is an agreed upon concept to hide behind. Almost all societies have these excuses i have come to know- in the US we call it "business" and as john steinbeck said in Grapes of Wrath 'business is the new word for lying, cheating and stealing' (an approximate quote).
(the percentages used here are approximations) 90% of Turkish citizens are officially muslim, about 20% of these are not actually muslim but claim to be so for the reason of drifting through society with more ease, of the remaining about 70% of the population few are fully practicing muslims (as is made clear by the few people that are moved by the call to worship made by the mosques five times a day). Turkey is a secular state and rightfully so as few turks are serious about their religion, and fewer still want Sharia Law.
Women's rights exist in Turkey, but according to a women's rights group, they are not enforced. It is only more recently that Turks are being given rights and freedoms. I read in a turkish newspaper that in the past if a citizen offense has anything to do with the military then a military prosecution will occur, giving no rights to the citizen and all the power to the prosecution; they are working, now, on laws that give citizens rights to a fair trial even if the offense involves the military.
There is no ethnic Turk; they are a hodge podge of everything around, and in the NE of Turkey there is even a form of Turk that is white and almost looks Russian (we met one such couple and their skin pigmentation was confusing).
Turkish people as a modern society have never built, discovered, or advanced anything i was told by one Turk- they ride off of the history of their land (this land is partly where agricultural societies began, the Romans and Greeks ruled here, the Christians ruled here, the Muslims and Ottomans ruled here) and their nation and people would go unnoticed if it was not for their location and ownership of Istanbul (once Constantinople) and the Bosforus (the Bosforus is under a treaty that allows all nation's ships to pass through it for free, there are always many dozens of very large ships sitting in the water in Istanbul waiting for their turn to pass through the Bosforus). I was told that since the Turks did not fight for their freedom they do not value it as they should- the same can be said of many Americans today, especially the rich ones (i myself struggle to comprehend and appreciate the freedoms that i have).
None of these claims are my own, if they are disproved it will cause me no pain. These are the words i heard and these are the words i write, every nation has its secrets and dark pasts, the USA (my own country) has a darker past than Turkey and i am willing to talk about that too, but here it is time to talk of Turkey's. The past is no pretty thing, to pretend that it is full of niceties is to do ourselves and others injustice.
It was lovely, amazing, scary, relaxing, beautiful, wonderous, nerve-racking, angering, elating, jaw-dropping, exciting and most of all awe-inspiring to visit Turkey. I am grateful for their reception of us and the opportunity to go.
Something about Turkey:
A Reflection
From speaking to Turkish people some history about its formation and government was made known to me. To begin, in Turkey free speech does not exist.
Ataturk was a general of the first world war that "brought independence" to Turkey after the fall of the Ottoman Empire in 1923. Upon creating Turkey Ataturk had a new language formed out of english, french and arabic; prior to this new language the people of this geographic region mainly spoke arabic, and kurdish. With this new language, that no commoner spoke, Ataturk drafted legislation and created the law of the Turkish land. I do not know when, but at some point a law was created that made it a serious crime to saying anything negative about Ataturk (trying to hide something are we Ataturk?).
The Kurdish people's land is divided between Turkey, Iraq, Iran and Syria and their people are spread even further. Under the order of Ataturk an entire kurdish town was exterminated; every mother, uncle, niece, infant and elder- many Kurds have never forgotten this, especially because it is recent history of the last two generations. There is a video on you tube (i do not know how it is found) of young women kurdish fighters battling in Eastern Turkey in this modern time, i was told they only live for an average of 3 years but they fight knowing they are giving their lives for the freedoms of another. A person raised with the pacifist domestic politics of the USA would think that violence is not the answer for domestic issues (and i would agree), but i was told that it is because of these Kurdish soldiers that it is no longer a criminal offense to speak Kurdish in Turkey, as it was only 10 years ago.
In Turkey breaking the law to "feed your family" is acceptable and an often used excuse to break the law or do something immoral to another, especially tourists. A turkish man we met said that this is mostly B.S., it is an agreed upon concept to hide behind. Almost all societies have these excuses i have come to know- in the US we call it "business" and as john steinbeck said in Grapes of Wrath 'business is the new word for lying, cheating and stealing' (an approximate quote).
(the percentages used here are approximations) 90% of Turkish citizens are officially muslim, about 20% of these are not actually muslim but claim to be so for the reason of drifting through society with more ease, of the remaining about 70% of the population few are fully practicing muslims (as is made clear by the few people that are moved by the call to worship made by the mosques five times a day). Turkey is a secular state and rightfully so as few turks are serious about their religion, and fewer still want Sharia Law.
Women's rights exist in Turkey, but according to a women's rights group, they are not enforced. It is only more recently that Turks are being given rights and freedoms. I read in a turkish newspaper that in the past if a citizen offense has anything to do with the military then a military prosecution will occur, giving no rights to the citizen and all the power to the prosecution; they are working, now, on laws that give citizens rights to a fair trial even if the offense involves the military.
There is no ethnic Turk; they are a hodge podge of everything around, and in the NE of Turkey there is even a form of Turk that is white and almost looks Russian (we met one such couple and their skin pigmentation was confusing).
Turkish people as a modern society have never built, discovered, or advanced anything i was told by one Turk- they ride off of the history of their land (this land is partly where agricultural societies began, the Romans and Greeks ruled here, the Christians ruled here, the Muslims and Ottomans ruled here) and their nation and people would go unnoticed if it was not for their location and ownership of Istanbul (once Constantinople) and the Bosforus (the Bosforus is under a treaty that allows all nation's ships to pass through it for free, there are always many dozens of very large ships sitting in the water in Istanbul waiting for their turn to pass through the Bosforus). I was told that since the Turks did not fight for their freedom they do not value it as they should- the same can be said of many Americans today, especially the rich ones (i myself struggle to comprehend and appreciate the freedoms that i have).
None of these claims are my own, if they are disproved it will cause me no pain. These are the words i heard and these are the words i write, every nation has its secrets and dark pasts, the USA (my own country) has a darker past than Turkey and i am willing to talk about that too, but here it is time to talk of Turkey's. The past is no pretty thing, to pretend that it is full of niceties is to do ourselves and others injustice.
It was lovely, amazing, scary, relaxing, beautiful, wonderous, nerve-racking, angering, elating, jaw-dropping, exciting and most of all awe-inspiring to visit Turkey. I am grateful for their reception of us and the opportunity to go.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Korcula - Shelby
After a pleasant 3 hour bus/ferry ride, we arrived in Korcula on the 7th. Mladan was at the bus station to pick us up only minutes after we arrived, and I was very happy to meet him as he's extremely nice and calm - a wonderful antidote to our Turkish transportation. The bus terminal dropped us off about a mile away from the old gated city, which yesterday we had a chance to walk around. But on the 7th we simply piled into Mladan's sweet Renault and drove to his and Tony's (his grandfather) residence. They had just arrived their the day before from Zagreb, so we all got settled in together and Mladan gave us a tour of the place. There is a small kitchen to the right, and a living room to the left. There are multiple bedrooms on the ground floor and a spiral staircase in the back leads up to Tony's landing with floor to ceiling shelves of books. Also upstairs is the guestroom where we are staying, complete with its own kitchenette, bathroom, and terrace overlooking the Adriatic. We're so grateful for our generous hosts and their accomidations! Outside there is a large patio where we've eaten most of our meals before the mid day sun creeps to close, and when that happens we move down to a lower patio below the house which is overlooking their dock that leads straight to the sea. We've gone swimming everyday aided by their collection of goggles, filppers, and a snorkel, and today Mladan was our chauffeur on the sea as he rowed us out on their boat around the neigborhood and we dove in to explore crab traps, interesting plants, and a few tropical fish (which are actually invasive, and are coming to the area due to the warming of the waters).
Yesterday we drove to the other side of the island, which would have been fine except for the hour long drive in the small car with extremely windy cliff side roads which induced quite a spell of motion sickness in me. Luckily, I made it there in one piece, and we walked around the small city of Vera Luca with other visiting Seattle friends of the Jurkovich's, their son is in a Croatian dance and music troupe based out of Seattle and they are on tour around the country, and we went to watch them perform along with a Croatian troupe. It was really fun to see, especially the authentic costumes, and they all had adorable curl-toed elf shoes! Leave it to me to be entranced by their folk costumes.
Mladan has been cooking for us, and Tony refuses to let us wash any dishes. They are both very kind and generous! Mladan called the bus station today and we figured out the situation for getting to Florence - on Tuesday we are going to take a Catamaran to Split, a northern Croatian city, and from their a ferry to Ancona, Italy. That will get us there around 8 that night (we've arranged a hostel) and in the morning we will take a train from Ancona to Florence - which we should arrive in around 4pm. I'm looking forward to the train through Italy, I'm sure that it's going to be beautiful.
Tonight we're going with Mladan and Dino (his friend and neighbor) to Dino's mother's bakery in a neighboring town, and after that we're going to play ping pong at a nearby bar.
Lots of love - Shelby
p.s. I tried to upload photos today using Mladan's laptop, but it kept freezing and and after 4 attempts I figured it wasn't meant to be. Maybe at a future destination?
Yesterday we drove to the other side of the island, which would have been fine except for the hour long drive in the small car with extremely windy cliff side roads which induced quite a spell of motion sickness in me. Luckily, I made it there in one piece, and we walked around the small city of Vera Luca with other visiting Seattle friends of the Jurkovich's, their son is in a Croatian dance and music troupe based out of Seattle and they are on tour around the country, and we went to watch them perform along with a Croatian troupe. It was really fun to see, especially the authentic costumes, and they all had adorable curl-toed elf shoes! Leave it to me to be entranced by their folk costumes.
Mladan has been cooking for us, and Tony refuses to let us wash any dishes. They are both very kind and generous! Mladan called the bus station today and we figured out the situation for getting to Florence - on Tuesday we are going to take a Catamaran to Split, a northern Croatian city, and from their a ferry to Ancona, Italy. That will get us there around 8 that night (we've arranged a hostel) and in the morning we will take a train from Ancona to Florence - which we should arrive in around 4pm. I'm looking forward to the train through Italy, I'm sure that it's going to be beautiful.
Tonight we're going with Mladan and Dino (his friend and neighbor) to Dino's mother's bakery in a neighboring town, and after that we're going to play ping pong at a nearby bar.
Lots of love - Shelby
p.s. I tried to upload photos today using Mladan's laptop, but it kept freezing and and after 4 attempts I figured it wasn't meant to be. Maybe at a future destination?
julz 10th- Anders
In Istanbul:
"I just went to the Princess islands and spent the day on the beach, it was beautiful and the swimming was good," said an iranian-american we met at our istanbul guesthouse. I had talked to him, among other subjects, of the iranian election scandal currently occurring. Navid was his name, he told us how to get to the islands but the directions involved turkish names that we couldn't apply to turkish lettering from sound. Later the manager of the guesthouse, another friend, wrote the directions down for us and the next day we set out for the islands after a typical turkish breakfast of bread, cucumber, tomato, a bland feta like cheese, yogurt and olives...oh ya, and turkish tea: very strong tea made in a tea pot that is placed on another pot that just holds hot water- you fill the tea cup half way with the deep red-brown tea and finish filling the cup with hot water, use a small tea cup and add two sugar cubes, milk is available but most abstain from it.
Shelby and I packed my backpack and went to the tram, 1.5 lira each and off we go down crowded streets. People run in front of our steel transport box like everyday risk of no thought of being caught and the tram looks like it is hitting ghosts, but no, everyone is real, just real quick. The roads are thinner in Istanbul, like they are on a diet, much like the people; we have been counting fat people, after 4 days we are at 6 and most look like tourists, also, no one is so fat that they need a wheel chair to move their fat little thick squat legs made useless after years of food not leaving their bodies, food getting stuck en route to the colon becoming fat worn like military adornments of a society that has conquered life after only 200 years so the people are now left to sit and eat, like emperors- emperor penguins.
We cross a bridge on the tram and get off at the last stop where all the ships are, we are a little late and the ferry is set to leave in 2 minutes, we look around taking steps in each direction, lost in a crowd of people who know where they are going. We walk up to a gas station to ask for direction but do not enter, instead we continue on to a dock looking for the small ferry of our transport expectations, we tread right along the water still among crowds, Shelby is walking slowly, defeated by timetables and a signless pier, i am walking faster than shelby, looking back every 20 seconds to confirm her location, i slow down to coax her into a more swift walk, "we already missed it, man," "at your pace we will miss it," i tried to stop this last comment from becoming audible and in my mind i did pull up in time, but i said it and took a breath "i am sorry baby" i walk her speed "i would rather be nice to you than catch this ferry." We walk slowly along the pier and find our ticket counter in one minute "princess islands?" i say to the man in the booth and we buy our 3 lira tickets and walk onto the large ferry as it begins to pull away from the dock, we are on of the last to board, i smile and we forgive each other for the short lived breakdown. We find one of the few seats left upstairs and sit amongst a still crowded scene of few white people, in Bellingham (our home before this trip) is a city of almost exclusively whities, this is our chance at minority living.
Two of the only seats left on the large, no-car ferry are on a bench amongst two families, we don't know their ethnicity, but if i had to guess i would say Italian from looking at their skin. Sitting on the bench with us is the elder of the group wrapped in a dress and loose cloths with a non-serious head scarf, across from her is a younger woman in her early 30's dressed in a more modern style of pants and a shirt, next to her and directly across from us is a taller man with thick eyebrows, he is with a quiet young, staring girl and a wrapped wife, silent as well, but friendly faces all around.
I thought they were all one family but we learned that they are two families, just friends. They are observing us, we are trying to not be imposing, our seat mates keep staring and talking amongst themselves, the subject is us and the language is foreign. The modern 30 something woman stares the most along with her mother and after a while she is the one to break the third wall by revealing the topic of their already known conversation, she says to shelby "you are just so beautiful," a blush and a smile overcomes Shelby as she responds with, "thank you." Our modern lady continues on about Shelby's beauty yet she uses few new words as she speaks english, but not much. Her name is Adele (Ad-duh-lay) and she becomes the conduit of conversation for this group as we all try to converse, our thick browed friend knows some english, speaking occasionally, his name is Amir.
They dwell on Shelby's beauty, Adele is beautiful herself, but in the middle eastern culture a small nose is beautiful and Shelby's nose is just that, a cute button with a bull's piercing and another metal piece placed through her right nostril, conversation moves onto these piercings and shelby's tattoo, i have a metal bar in my left ear placed through two points on the upper cartilage, this is noticed too, our families are giggling now and are a little exasperated at the thought of the piercing events occurring, i explain that it is done during the release of a deep breath.
We move on to Nationalities, we are Americans, they thought European, for some reason, even with our accents, we do not fulfill most people's mental image of Americans. We are mainly speaking to Adele, as she is the most fluent in english, and she asks us to guess their Nationality, as i said i would have guessed Italian from their skin, but i know i am wrong as shown through their soft demeanor and headscarves, we don't offer any guesses; they are Iranian.
After nation identification and before deeper conversation, a picture is painted in my head- two peoples with rulers opposed, 8 years of verbal conflict, media focus on macro, no micro, no individual voice of citizens just images of Ahmadinejad and chanting crowds praising centrifuges of enriched uranium, stage scenes, strategic releases of clips dipped into media with doll like commentators, for-profit news, singing sensationalism, companies money making without public acknowledgment of the very real effect they have, no longer just showing events, making news, the people are left behind the scenes and here we are Americans and Iranians finally face to face without a Bush or an Ahmadinejad to skew the scene, we see each other and wonder- what is in your head? Adele begins the inquiry "have you heard of what is going on in Iran, what do you think?" "yes," we say "we know, we think it is too bad." Adele- "we do not like Ahmadinejad," her head wrapped warm faced mother waves a green rag, she had it ready to show her personal politics at any moment "We support Mousavi," we smile and i lean in close as Adele did to denounce her "elected" leader, "we do not like Bush, we like Obama."
After this moment of political declaration we have a broken, simple worded english conversation about Iranian-American politics, Adele conveys words around the group and i find out that Iran and USA are more similar that some would want you to think. In Iran many do not support Ahmadinejad, but with violent rule what is a pacifist citizen to do?, their leaders supports an agenda of the minority and acts like he is Allah/God sent and of the majority.
In Iran: religious extremism is a strategy of the powerful minority, most Iranian soldiers enlist for the money (same in the USA), politically sensitive information is hidden (as in the USA), in Iran the internet is filtered but we hear that there are ways around that and that those ways are used, in Iran most citizens have no problem with Americans, just with Bush, and they would have had a problem with McCain if elected- i told Adele that McCain supports more strict and even violent action towards Iran, she is glad Obama is a more level-headed ruler, for McCains actions would have been devastating as well as another sad chapter in the book of dying political strategies.
Amir knows little english, yet asks 'what do we know of Iran's Ayatollah?' i say we know little because the media covers him as a backdrop to Ahmadinejad, what is covered of the Ayatollah is that he is for extreme Islamic rule, this is conveyed to Amir through Adele, he nods. I learned from Navid, the friend that I quoted to start this story, that the Ayatollah is not the highest hand in the land and neither is Ahmadinejad, there is a committee that is above them both, the committee is often in agreement but breaks in opinion and action as sees fit.
We mainly talked politics in a slow progression, choosing simple sentences, only using key words, we did this for the length of the 30-40 minute ferry ride. What was revealed is that the politics of Iran and America are mostly the same: religious extremism, stolen elections, unrepresentative governments, concealing of important information, poor soldiers needing money, a citizenry that mostly has no problems with citizens of other countries, politics skewing everything for personal gain and perpetuation of power structures via fear mongering.
The 7 of us grow close and pictures are taken, first of Adele, Shelby and me with her camera, then with Shelby's camera, we invited Adele's mother to join but she kindly rejected the invitation, then the daughter of Amir is coaxed into a seat next to us, at first she is shy but after a couple of encouragements she sheds her act and scoots into shelby nesting into her side for a picture, we all smile.
We approach the Princess island and say our goodbyes, Shelby and Adele hug as Adele guides Shelby through a two cheek kissing embrace. We are all happy to have met. Shelby and I step off the boat onto our Princess of an island and rent bikes to find an isolated beach.
"I just went to the Princess islands and spent the day on the beach, it was beautiful and the swimming was good," said an iranian-american we met at our istanbul guesthouse. I had talked to him, among other subjects, of the iranian election scandal currently occurring. Navid was his name, he told us how to get to the islands but the directions involved turkish names that we couldn't apply to turkish lettering from sound. Later the manager of the guesthouse, another friend, wrote the directions down for us and the next day we set out for the islands after a typical turkish breakfast of bread, cucumber, tomato, a bland feta like cheese, yogurt and olives...oh ya, and turkish tea: very strong tea made in a tea pot that is placed on another pot that just holds hot water- you fill the tea cup half way with the deep red-brown tea and finish filling the cup with hot water, use a small tea cup and add two sugar cubes, milk is available but most abstain from it.
Shelby and I packed my backpack and went to the tram, 1.5 lira each and off we go down crowded streets. People run in front of our steel transport box like everyday risk of no thought of being caught and the tram looks like it is hitting ghosts, but no, everyone is real, just real quick. The roads are thinner in Istanbul, like they are on a diet, much like the people; we have been counting fat people, after 4 days we are at 6 and most look like tourists, also, no one is so fat that they need a wheel chair to move their fat little thick squat legs made useless after years of food not leaving their bodies, food getting stuck en route to the colon becoming fat worn like military adornments of a society that has conquered life after only 200 years so the people are now left to sit and eat, like emperors- emperor penguins.
We cross a bridge on the tram and get off at the last stop where all the ships are, we are a little late and the ferry is set to leave in 2 minutes, we look around taking steps in each direction, lost in a crowd of people who know where they are going. We walk up to a gas station to ask for direction but do not enter, instead we continue on to a dock looking for the small ferry of our transport expectations, we tread right along the water still among crowds, Shelby is walking slowly, defeated by timetables and a signless pier, i am walking faster than shelby, looking back every 20 seconds to confirm her location, i slow down to coax her into a more swift walk, "we already missed it, man," "at your pace we will miss it," i tried to stop this last comment from becoming audible and in my mind i did pull up in time, but i said it and took a breath "i am sorry baby" i walk her speed "i would rather be nice to you than catch this ferry." We walk slowly along the pier and find our ticket counter in one minute "princess islands?" i say to the man in the booth and we buy our 3 lira tickets and walk onto the large ferry as it begins to pull away from the dock, we are on of the last to board, i smile and we forgive each other for the short lived breakdown. We find one of the few seats left upstairs and sit amongst a still crowded scene of few white people, in Bellingham (our home before this trip) is a city of almost exclusively whities, this is our chance at minority living.
Two of the only seats left on the large, no-car ferry are on a bench amongst two families, we don't know their ethnicity, but if i had to guess i would say Italian from looking at their skin. Sitting on the bench with us is the elder of the group wrapped in a dress and loose cloths with a non-serious head scarf, across from her is a younger woman in her early 30's dressed in a more modern style of pants and a shirt, next to her and directly across from us is a taller man with thick eyebrows, he is with a quiet young, staring girl and a wrapped wife, silent as well, but friendly faces all around.
I thought they were all one family but we learned that they are two families, just friends. They are observing us, we are trying to not be imposing, our seat mates keep staring and talking amongst themselves, the subject is us and the language is foreign. The modern 30 something woman stares the most along with her mother and after a while she is the one to break the third wall by revealing the topic of their already known conversation, she says to shelby "you are just so beautiful," a blush and a smile overcomes Shelby as she responds with, "thank you." Our modern lady continues on about Shelby's beauty yet she uses few new words as she speaks english, but not much. Her name is Adele (Ad-duh-lay) and she becomes the conduit of conversation for this group as we all try to converse, our thick browed friend knows some english, speaking occasionally, his name is Amir.
They dwell on Shelby's beauty, Adele is beautiful herself, but in the middle eastern culture a small nose is beautiful and Shelby's nose is just that, a cute button with a bull's piercing and another metal piece placed through her right nostril, conversation moves onto these piercings and shelby's tattoo, i have a metal bar in my left ear placed through two points on the upper cartilage, this is noticed too, our families are giggling now and are a little exasperated at the thought of the piercing events occurring, i explain that it is done during the release of a deep breath.
We move on to Nationalities, we are Americans, they thought European, for some reason, even with our accents, we do not fulfill most people's mental image of Americans. We are mainly speaking to Adele, as she is the most fluent in english, and she asks us to guess their Nationality, as i said i would have guessed Italian from their skin, but i know i am wrong as shown through their soft demeanor and headscarves, we don't offer any guesses; they are Iranian.
After nation identification and before deeper conversation, a picture is painted in my head- two peoples with rulers opposed, 8 years of verbal conflict, media focus on macro, no micro, no individual voice of citizens just images of Ahmadinejad and chanting crowds praising centrifuges of enriched uranium, stage scenes, strategic releases of clips dipped into media with doll like commentators, for-profit news, singing sensationalism, companies money making without public acknowledgment of the very real effect they have, no longer just showing events, making news, the people are left behind the scenes and here we are Americans and Iranians finally face to face without a Bush or an Ahmadinejad to skew the scene, we see each other and wonder- what is in your head? Adele begins the inquiry "have you heard of what is going on in Iran, what do you think?" "yes," we say "we know, we think it is too bad." Adele- "we do not like Ahmadinejad," her head wrapped warm faced mother waves a green rag, she had it ready to show her personal politics at any moment "We support Mousavi," we smile and i lean in close as Adele did to denounce her "elected" leader, "we do not like Bush, we like Obama."
After this moment of political declaration we have a broken, simple worded english conversation about Iranian-American politics, Adele conveys words around the group and i find out that Iran and USA are more similar that some would want you to think. In Iran many do not support Ahmadinejad, but with violent rule what is a pacifist citizen to do?, their leaders supports an agenda of the minority and acts like he is Allah/God sent and of the majority.
In Iran: religious extremism is a strategy of the powerful minority, most Iranian soldiers enlist for the money (same in the USA), politically sensitive information is hidden (as in the USA), in Iran the internet is filtered but we hear that there are ways around that and that those ways are used, in Iran most citizens have no problem with Americans, just with Bush, and they would have had a problem with McCain if elected- i told Adele that McCain supports more strict and even violent action towards Iran, she is glad Obama is a more level-headed ruler, for McCains actions would have been devastating as well as another sad chapter in the book of dying political strategies.
Amir knows little english, yet asks 'what do we know of Iran's Ayatollah?' i say we know little because the media covers him as a backdrop to Ahmadinejad, what is covered of the Ayatollah is that he is for extreme Islamic rule, this is conveyed to Amir through Adele, he nods. I learned from Navid, the friend that I quoted to start this story, that the Ayatollah is not the highest hand in the land and neither is Ahmadinejad, there is a committee that is above them both, the committee is often in agreement but breaks in opinion and action as sees fit.
We mainly talked politics in a slow progression, choosing simple sentences, only using key words, we did this for the length of the 30-40 minute ferry ride. What was revealed is that the politics of Iran and America are mostly the same: religious extremism, stolen elections, unrepresentative governments, concealing of important information, poor soldiers needing money, a citizenry that mostly has no problems with citizens of other countries, politics skewing everything for personal gain and perpetuation of power structures via fear mongering.
The 7 of us grow close and pictures are taken, first of Adele, Shelby and me with her camera, then with Shelby's camera, we invited Adele's mother to join but she kindly rejected the invitation, then the daughter of Amir is coaxed into a seat next to us, at first she is shy but after a couple of encouragements she sheds her act and scoots into shelby nesting into her side for a picture, we all smile.
We approach the Princess island and say our goodbyes, Shelby and Adele hug as Adele guides Shelby through a two cheek kissing embrace. We are all happy to have met. Shelby and I step off the boat onto our Princess of an island and rent bikes to find an isolated beach.
Friday, July 10, 2009
July 9th- Anders
finishing a story i started in an earlier post:
Back in Istanbul-
on a tuesday, 2 days after meeting Emrullah we returned to him (a rug shop owner, aged 28 and a little chubby in the face, but not a chubby man, he was of average height, pigmented like a turk but he had a more round face, less like the sharp geometry that most turks utilize for facial design). We entered his small shop as he was finishing a sale with a Japanese woman he had met 6 years ago in a similar way that he met us, they have seen each other intermittently over the years and she has even stayed at his place for 5 months as a guest, she was buying several pillows that were thick with design. They concluded their time together, performed a turkish-japanese fusion farewell and she left as she smiled at us and said "good bye."
Emrullah softly clapped his hands, and looked at us pleased that he had recruited potential new friends, he had tea broght to us from someone that was with in hollering distance from his shops door step. After being served; rosehip for shelby, apple tea for me, and turkish tea for Emrullah, the door was closed and the air conditioning was blared, we sat down with Emrullahs eyes and smiling face fixated on us.
We spent an hour with Emrullah, we had come to get directions to where turkish people bought their textiles (we did go to this place later in the day but we were the only foreigners around and straight textiles were not to be found, with all the commotion and walking through these strange people filled alleys we left after winding down a couple of narrow blocks- i loved the out-of-place feeling and all the foreign sights and smells, but it was overwhelming for sure- we started to find our way out by taking a left somewhere, we sat down and had a snack while watching people watch us, we then took another left and ended up back in the grand bazaar where we knew the place to go to find good turkish textiles at a fair price, we bought about 12 meters for a price below what we would pay for regular cloth in the US), getting directions was not the only thing we were here for we ended up discovering, but time is nothing and Emrullahs friendliness was not empty or fake, later we were to learn it was at least one part strategic, yes he was to gain from us- monetarily, but cleanly, not in the dirty way that many turks used when intercepting us in our cobbled street walks, they sought our american made money, there is no shame in that but when they refuse to leave you alone it gets uncomfortable, but we got used to it after a couple of days and stopped resenting it and just played along in a friendly manner.
Many subjects were explored with Emrullah and a chronological recount of all topics is beyond me but there are some memorable subjects that i wish to recall.
There are blue, glass eyes that decorate turkey and they are sold all over, i once joked that i wouldnt put it past the turks to decorate their homes and shops with these eyes just so they can sell them to tourists. Emrullah said the glass eye is for good luck, some turks believe in the power of the glass eye, but Emrullah doesnt believe in luck from physical objects, he told us, only Allah has power. Emrullah was a good muslim- i say that people are good followers of organized religion if they follow the spiritual side of their religion and do not get too stuck on following any organization of thought. Emrullah spoke of spiritual principles and his adherence to them, he said "you too are obviously good followers of your religion," i had been waiting for this opportunity; here we have a muslim in his own culture and state, respectful of others and willing to speak openly, so i took this opportunity and said,"we are not christians, we have no religion, but we live as a religious person does, being dedicated to Love and sharing and caring for others, as you do," this surprised Emrullah but he approved and said "yes, you are good people, i can tell." I liked this surprise in Emrullah, and his acceptance of us, it was as if we were the first non-religious people he had met that care for others as he does, it may have even expanded his concept of what religion is, we even taught him a new word- "spirituality."
Emrullah wants to open a shop in Seattle and wants a wealthy life, a friend has already done this and come back showing his wealth humbly, Emrullah still seeks an honest and consciencious life, but for a country of non-wealthy people, money is something to seek with fervor. In talking about customers Emrullah tells us he likes the humble rich man, entering his store without pomp and still looking for the finest turkish rugs- each rug is a story, a persons life, each pixel on a rug is knot tied by two hands, no machine and all dedicated human intent, each rug is the doing of a person, taking weeks for smaller ones and months for larger more complex ones with the rug maker focusing on one rug to earn enough to live, marry, educate, or pay for a place to live (one turkish friend told us a couple of jokes- what do you call a turk sitting on a shithouse?: a home owner. 2nd joke- what do you call a turk sitting on two shithouses?: a real estate agent. (many turks live in small rooms or apartments and often they are located in the place they do business, many live in regular apartments too.))
Emrullah wants to sell an experience, a connection, a feeling and doesnt want to deal with "dead" purchasers, but he does and does so only in person as he refuses to sell on-line and in effect refusing easy money. When an unconscious pomp purchaser does walk into his store and they ask to be told or prices they hear 2 to 5 times the price that a humble rich man would hear, and Emrullah saya "what?, you can afford it, you say you are staying in the 4 seasons, this rug is the same as a couple of nights there," Emrullah laughs as he gets up from his stool and walks around his bedroom size shop holding his arms daintily, impersonating on such cocky customer, he prances around and says in a play voice "how much is this one?," "10,000 I say to them, but to another I sell for 2,000 (prices in turkish lira)."
The shop is decorated with his rugs, an earthly red dominates the room, large rugs hang on the wall, smaller ones are rolled up and are lined up, standing on their spiraled feet, stacks of pillow covers and smaller rugs too small to roll up follow the walls with the other rolled pieces, the floor is wooden, clean, and open in the middle taking up most of the shop for showing product.
The AC is still blaring 30 minutes after our arrival and i am not caring about time or anything outside, we continue talking of people and their ways in turkey and in the US, mean people here, mean people there, and nice people everywhere, character is the decision of the individual, no country has one sort of people, turks are not this and americans are not that, these are old ideas that we shatter with our daily conversations and experiences.
Our conversing is slow and comfortable, Emrullahs english is good but words like "environment" need to be explained to tell of the education I received in the US before traveling to Turkey, we trot along in my native language ambling through subjects, all 3 of us are happy to have met someone from a drastically different culture that is as nice as we individually strive to be.
After the tea is well past drank and Shelby and I have been shown on a map where the non-Grand Bazaar textiles can be bought Emrullah says nervously "ok, before you go, i take some of your money," he said it in an upbeat tone anxious for our response and nervous that it will not go over well with us, he was a nice man but a hungry turk nonetheless, i needed to buy something for my mom and after a moments hesitation i decided that this would be where that purchase would occur. "A rug maybe," says Emrullah but Shelby responds "no," for a rug is too expensive and she had just worked as a rug weaver for a year and a half, a fact that Emrullah was uninterested in. Emrullah then showed us some table adornments and pillow covers, we were not wanting pillow covers, we wanted something more original and the table cloths looked amazing, like the rugs flushed on his walls, i asked the price, "normally 150, but for you 110," "Dollars?" i asked, "no, Lira" (110 TL = 67 US dollars) said Emrullah and my eyes grew, this was a good price for a tourist and i was looking at pure turkish beauty at my feet. Shelby has the artistic eye and since no haggling was needed i let her examine and search and feel and look for something perfect to bring home for my mother. After looking at several pieces a vibrant red with a simple, elegant peacock feather design was chosen and i smiled as Emrullah packaged it up with movements well familiar to him.
I tried to hand Emrullah plastic as payment, he looked dejected as he saw his small profit margin for this purchase dissipate , he wanted us to pay with cash, and after an awkward minute i inquired into the problem with my card. After hearing that he wanted to avoid credit card fees i told him to just charge me 130TL for the piece, he said "120" (80 US dollars) and i smiled and he swiped and i signed.
We had a warm farewell with Emrullah and began sweating again as we walked toward our guided destination to buy Turkish textiles in the Turkish summer heat.
Back in Istanbul-
on a tuesday, 2 days after meeting Emrullah we returned to him (a rug shop owner, aged 28 and a little chubby in the face, but not a chubby man, he was of average height, pigmented like a turk but he had a more round face, less like the sharp geometry that most turks utilize for facial design). We entered his small shop as he was finishing a sale with a Japanese woman he had met 6 years ago in a similar way that he met us, they have seen each other intermittently over the years and she has even stayed at his place for 5 months as a guest, she was buying several pillows that were thick with design. They concluded their time together, performed a turkish-japanese fusion farewell and she left as she smiled at us and said "good bye."
Emrullah softly clapped his hands, and looked at us pleased that he had recruited potential new friends, he had tea broght to us from someone that was with in hollering distance from his shops door step. After being served; rosehip for shelby, apple tea for me, and turkish tea for Emrullah, the door was closed and the air conditioning was blared, we sat down with Emrullahs eyes and smiling face fixated on us.
We spent an hour with Emrullah, we had come to get directions to where turkish people bought their textiles (we did go to this place later in the day but we were the only foreigners around and straight textiles were not to be found, with all the commotion and walking through these strange people filled alleys we left after winding down a couple of narrow blocks- i loved the out-of-place feeling and all the foreign sights and smells, but it was overwhelming for sure- we started to find our way out by taking a left somewhere, we sat down and had a snack while watching people watch us, we then took another left and ended up back in the grand bazaar where we knew the place to go to find good turkish textiles at a fair price, we bought about 12 meters for a price below what we would pay for regular cloth in the US), getting directions was not the only thing we were here for we ended up discovering, but time is nothing and Emrullahs friendliness was not empty or fake, later we were to learn it was at least one part strategic, yes he was to gain from us- monetarily, but cleanly, not in the dirty way that many turks used when intercepting us in our cobbled street walks, they sought our american made money, there is no shame in that but when they refuse to leave you alone it gets uncomfortable, but we got used to it after a couple of days and stopped resenting it and just played along in a friendly manner.
Many subjects were explored with Emrullah and a chronological recount of all topics is beyond me but there are some memorable subjects that i wish to recall.
There are blue, glass eyes that decorate turkey and they are sold all over, i once joked that i wouldnt put it past the turks to decorate their homes and shops with these eyes just so they can sell them to tourists. Emrullah said the glass eye is for good luck, some turks believe in the power of the glass eye, but Emrullah doesnt believe in luck from physical objects, he told us, only Allah has power. Emrullah was a good muslim- i say that people are good followers of organized religion if they follow the spiritual side of their religion and do not get too stuck on following any organization of thought. Emrullah spoke of spiritual principles and his adherence to them, he said "you too are obviously good followers of your religion," i had been waiting for this opportunity; here we have a muslim in his own culture and state, respectful of others and willing to speak openly, so i took this opportunity and said,"we are not christians, we have no religion, but we live as a religious person does, being dedicated to Love and sharing and caring for others, as you do," this surprised Emrullah but he approved and said "yes, you are good people, i can tell." I liked this surprise in Emrullah, and his acceptance of us, it was as if we were the first non-religious people he had met that care for others as he does, it may have even expanded his concept of what religion is, we even taught him a new word- "spirituality."
Emrullah wants to open a shop in Seattle and wants a wealthy life, a friend has already done this and come back showing his wealth humbly, Emrullah still seeks an honest and consciencious life, but for a country of non-wealthy people, money is something to seek with fervor. In talking about customers Emrullah tells us he likes the humble rich man, entering his store without pomp and still looking for the finest turkish rugs- each rug is a story, a persons life, each pixel on a rug is knot tied by two hands, no machine and all dedicated human intent, each rug is the doing of a person, taking weeks for smaller ones and months for larger more complex ones with the rug maker focusing on one rug to earn enough to live, marry, educate, or pay for a place to live (one turkish friend told us a couple of jokes- what do you call a turk sitting on a shithouse?: a home owner. 2nd joke- what do you call a turk sitting on two shithouses?: a real estate agent. (many turks live in small rooms or apartments and often they are located in the place they do business, many live in regular apartments too.))
Emrullah wants to sell an experience, a connection, a feeling and doesnt want to deal with "dead" purchasers, but he does and does so only in person as he refuses to sell on-line and in effect refusing easy money. When an unconscious pomp purchaser does walk into his store and they ask to be told or prices they hear 2 to 5 times the price that a humble rich man would hear, and Emrullah saya "what?, you can afford it, you say you are staying in the 4 seasons, this rug is the same as a couple of nights there," Emrullah laughs as he gets up from his stool and walks around his bedroom size shop holding his arms daintily, impersonating on such cocky customer, he prances around and says in a play voice "how much is this one?," "10,000 I say to them, but to another I sell for 2,000 (prices in turkish lira)."
The shop is decorated with his rugs, an earthly red dominates the room, large rugs hang on the wall, smaller ones are rolled up and are lined up, standing on their spiraled feet, stacks of pillow covers and smaller rugs too small to roll up follow the walls with the other rolled pieces, the floor is wooden, clean, and open in the middle taking up most of the shop for showing product.
The AC is still blaring 30 minutes after our arrival and i am not caring about time or anything outside, we continue talking of people and their ways in turkey and in the US, mean people here, mean people there, and nice people everywhere, character is the decision of the individual, no country has one sort of people, turks are not this and americans are not that, these are old ideas that we shatter with our daily conversations and experiences.
Our conversing is slow and comfortable, Emrullahs english is good but words like "environment" need to be explained to tell of the education I received in the US before traveling to Turkey, we trot along in my native language ambling through subjects, all 3 of us are happy to have met someone from a drastically different culture that is as nice as we individually strive to be.
After the tea is well past drank and Shelby and I have been shown on a map where the non-Grand Bazaar textiles can be bought Emrullah says nervously "ok, before you go, i take some of your money," he said it in an upbeat tone anxious for our response and nervous that it will not go over well with us, he was a nice man but a hungry turk nonetheless, i needed to buy something for my mom and after a moments hesitation i decided that this would be where that purchase would occur. "A rug maybe," says Emrullah but Shelby responds "no," for a rug is too expensive and she had just worked as a rug weaver for a year and a half, a fact that Emrullah was uninterested in. Emrullah then showed us some table adornments and pillow covers, we were not wanting pillow covers, we wanted something more original and the table cloths looked amazing, like the rugs flushed on his walls, i asked the price, "normally 150, but for you 110," "Dollars?" i asked, "no, Lira" (110 TL = 67 US dollars) said Emrullah and my eyes grew, this was a good price for a tourist and i was looking at pure turkish beauty at my feet. Shelby has the artistic eye and since no haggling was needed i let her examine and search and feel and look for something perfect to bring home for my mother. After looking at several pieces a vibrant red with a simple, elegant peacock feather design was chosen and i smiled as Emrullah packaged it up with movements well familiar to him.
I tried to hand Emrullah plastic as payment, he looked dejected as he saw his small profit margin for this purchase dissipate , he wanted us to pay with cash, and after an awkward minute i inquired into the problem with my card. After hearing that he wanted to avoid credit card fees i told him to just charge me 130TL for the piece, he said "120" (80 US dollars) and i smiled and he swiped and i signed.
We had a warm farewell with Emrullah and began sweating again as we walked toward our guided destination to buy Turkish textiles in the Turkish summer heat.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Dubrovnik - Shelby
Anders and I arrived in Dubrovnik last night after a pleasant day of travelling, and were delighted to find the owner of our guesthouse there to pick us up from the bus station, just as he had promised. We had no such luck in Istanbul, so I think that both of us were a little nervous in the backs of our minds. The place we're staying at is a guesthouse ran by an adorable old croatian couple, and this morning we woke up to breakfast and cranberry tea. We conversed in broken english as they both cooed in Croatian at the baby across the table from us, who belonged to another couple staying there. Todaz we walked a round about way to the old city, the walled district of Dubrovnik, and explored and went to a museum and an ancient church, as well as dined by the cliffs sharing soup and all you can eat salad.
Tomorrow we bus to Kortula, where we'll be for 5 days, then on to Florence!!
Having a wonderful time!
Tomorrow we bus to Kortula, where we'll be for 5 days, then on to Florence!!
Having a wonderful time!
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Antalya - Shelby
We made ıt ınto Antalya and are havıng a wonderful tıme - Our computer access ıs much more scarce so thıs wıll be short - but wanted to ınform that we are alıve and well!
It ıs so here after Istanbul - ıt ıs defınıtely the calm to Istanbuls storm. Lıfe here ıs very laıd back and quıet and there are a lot fewer tourısts. Weve met a frıend Orkun that we are goıng to the beach wıth today. Yesterday we went to an Amazıng museum and the day before that we spent all day at a beautıful Medıteranıan beach. Lıfe ıs very good.
It ıs so here after Istanbul - ıt ıs defınıtely the calm to Istanbuls storm. Lıfe here ıs very laıd back and quıet and there are a lot fewer tourısts. Weve met a frıend Orkun that we are goıng to the beach wıth today. Yesterday we went to an Amazıng museum and the day before that we spent all day at a beautıful Medıteranıan beach. Lıfe ıs very good.
Friday, July 3, 2009
July 3rd, noon- Anders
Sultan Ahmed Mosque- the Blue Mosque
the blue mosque ıs nıcknamed as such due to the blue tıle work on ıts upper walls and cıelıngs, yet there are just as many red tıles as there are blue tıles- brıllıantly colored all the same
the blue mosque was buılt as a one-up on Hag ıa Sophıa, but besıdes havıng 6 mıneretts to Sophıa`s 4 the blue mosque can not match the rıch hıstory and chrıstıan depıctıon tıle work of Sophıa, our blue frıend ıs tıll magnıfıcent though wıth gırthy supports columns as thıck as allah`s neck dıstrıbuted around the maın floor leavıng an open center for hıghly formalızed worshıp.
(as ı wrıte thıs ın the hotel lobby at theır maın computer turkısh chıldren televısıon ıs blarıng, the kıd walked away a mınute ago, ıf you thought amerıcan chıldren televeısıon was annoyıng you have not heard the same rıdıculous songs ın thıs hıgh pıtched, to me, gıbberısh)
before enterıng the mosque there ıs a maın court (one of two entrances) wıth a centrally located enclosed washıng structure that ıs no longer ın use, we walked forward to the entrance pausıng to take photographs and see a lıne formıng next to sıgn that dırects "vısıtors" to the rıght, we step to the rıght of the sıgn and a turk swıftly wıth hıs arms, hands and words dırects us, not here, but to the sıde of the buıldıng wall and tghen to the left huggıng the buıldıng, ın the dıstance at the far corner of the mosque we see a vısıtors entrance, durıng our walk we stop to prepare, we put all our stuff ınto my backpack and take out the camera and a beautıfully desıgned, lossely woven headscarf that we bought earlıer (we bargaıned for ıt of course, "how much?" we asked our young vendor who was talkatıve and eager to ımpress us, he asked me what ı was doıng wıth my lıfe, "school?, work?," and ı saıd "neıther, done wıth school" but he thought ı was doıng nothıng wıth my lıfe and he began to lıst on hıs fıngers all that he was ınvolved ın "school, work, sufı musıc, art work, and then poınted to some plates across the hall that he had ıntrıcately desıgned, ı then fully explaıned my school sıtuatıon - just graduated wıth a degreee ın anımals, plants, water, earth, aır. he then acted less superoır and we kept talkıng, he told us that he ıs supposed to sell scarves for 70 TL (TL stands for turkısh lıra and ıt ıs 1,5 TL for every 1 US dollar) but he would sell them to us for 20 TL each, ı saıd "two for twenty" and we bought them for 25TL because as he saıd referrıng to shelby "for the angel").
before the steps to the non-muslım entrance of the Blue Mosque there ıs a sıgn wıth rules for vısıtors on ıt posted by the Bureau of Relıgıous Affaırs-
women must wear a long skırt
women must cover theır head and shoulders (headscarves can be borrowed)
men must wear full pants
shoes must be taken off and put ın a plastıc bag (plastıc bag provıded)
no flash photography
no speakıng a loud (they meant loudly)
ı was wearıng shorts so we paused and talked about ıt, we dıd not want to dısrespect ıslam, muslıms and the mosque so we turned back and rested on some stone steps that were grooved from hundreds of years of feet walkıng down them, we peered ınsıde a door but could not see anythıng due to glare from the sun. after sıttıng for a whıle and watchıng dozens of vısıtors vıolatıng all dress codes we decıded that my transgressıon was small and not beyond an acceptable threshold of dısrespect , we unshoed ourselves, bagged them and shelby wrapped her head and sholders.
walkıng ınsıde you ımmedıately see a sıngle large room wıth cavernous cıelıngs and wıde changaleers holdıng themselves about 10 feet from the ground and wonderful tıle work made ınto blue and red desıgns, the floor ıs dıvıded ınto 3 sectıons, most of ıt ıs for male muslım worshıp, a good portıon ıs for vısıtors and ın the back behınd the vıstor sectıon and away from the male sectıon ıs the woman worshıpıng sectıon, each sectıon ıs seperated by a wood carved fence. people are everywhere and to our dısmay are breakıng almost every rule of respect, ı snuck a photo of a couple sıttıng next to a sıgn that read "do not sıt down" (there were other sıgns readıng the same but ın dıfferent languages), women were walkıng around wıth theır scarves down, people were conversıng "a loud" and we overheard an amerıcan famıly- "thıs ıs just totally a waste of tıme, you are rıght we do need a tour guıde, we dont even know what we are lookıng at, thıs ıs just a waste of tıme, "ya," responds another, "we can just come back tomorrow." most people are walkıng around wıth the word "entıtlement" tattooed to theır foreheads and chaıned, danglıng from theır lıps. we take some pıctures stare ın amazement, crankıng our necks untıl the paın takes hold, after notıcıng our non-muslım companıons we have to leave out of shame, on our way out we check out the mınatured model of "the prophets tomb" gıfted by the kıng of saudıa arabıa to the presıdent of turkey ın 2006.
we walk out ınto open aır, donate 1.5TL to the mosque, put on our shoes and walk out dısmayed at our collegues and amazed by the Blue Mosque of Sultan Ahmed.
-whıle wrıtıng thıs ı have been sweatıng though my cloths and overheatıng, ı shower every day, sometımes twıce.-
the blue mosque ıs nıcknamed as such due to the blue tıle work on ıts upper walls and cıelıngs, yet there are just as many red tıles as there are blue tıles- brıllıantly colored all the same
the blue mosque was buılt as a one-up on Hag ıa Sophıa, but besıdes havıng 6 mıneretts to Sophıa`s 4 the blue mosque can not match the rıch hıstory and chrıstıan depıctıon tıle work of Sophıa, our blue frıend ıs tıll magnıfıcent though wıth gırthy supports columns as thıck as allah`s neck dıstrıbuted around the maın floor leavıng an open center for hıghly formalızed worshıp.
(as ı wrıte thıs ın the hotel lobby at theır maın computer turkısh chıldren televısıon ıs blarıng, the kıd walked away a mınute ago, ıf you thought amerıcan chıldren televeısıon was annoyıng you have not heard the same rıdıculous songs ın thıs hıgh pıtched, to me, gıbberısh)
before enterıng the mosque there ıs a maın court (one of two entrances) wıth a centrally located enclosed washıng structure that ıs no longer ın use, we walked forward to the entrance pausıng to take photographs and see a lıne formıng next to sıgn that dırects "vısıtors" to the rıght, we step to the rıght of the sıgn and a turk swıftly wıth hıs arms, hands and words dırects us, not here, but to the sıde of the buıldıng wall and tghen to the left huggıng the buıldıng, ın the dıstance at the far corner of the mosque we see a vısıtors entrance, durıng our walk we stop to prepare, we put all our stuff ınto my backpack and take out the camera and a beautıfully desıgned, lossely woven headscarf that we bought earlıer (we bargaıned for ıt of course, "how much?" we asked our young vendor who was talkatıve and eager to ımpress us, he asked me what ı was doıng wıth my lıfe, "school?, work?," and ı saıd "neıther, done wıth school" but he thought ı was doıng nothıng wıth my lıfe and he began to lıst on hıs fıngers all that he was ınvolved ın "school, work, sufı musıc, art work, and then poınted to some plates across the hall that he had ıntrıcately desıgned, ı then fully explaıned my school sıtuatıon - just graduated wıth a degreee ın anımals, plants, water, earth, aır. he then acted less superoır and we kept talkıng, he told us that he ıs supposed to sell scarves for 70 TL (TL stands for turkısh lıra and ıt ıs 1,5 TL for every 1 US dollar) but he would sell them to us for 20 TL each, ı saıd "two for twenty" and we bought them for 25TL because as he saıd referrıng to shelby "for the angel").
before the steps to the non-muslım entrance of the Blue Mosque there ıs a sıgn wıth rules for vısıtors on ıt posted by the Bureau of Relıgıous Affaırs-
women must wear a long skırt
women must cover theır head and shoulders (headscarves can be borrowed)
men must wear full pants
shoes must be taken off and put ın a plastıc bag (plastıc bag provıded)
no flash photography
no speakıng a loud (they meant loudly)
ı was wearıng shorts so we paused and talked about ıt, we dıd not want to dısrespect ıslam, muslıms and the mosque so we turned back and rested on some stone steps that were grooved from hundreds of years of feet walkıng down them, we peered ınsıde a door but could not see anythıng due to glare from the sun. after sıttıng for a whıle and watchıng dozens of vısıtors vıolatıng all dress codes we decıded that my transgressıon was small and not beyond an acceptable threshold of dısrespect , we unshoed ourselves, bagged them and shelby wrapped her head and sholders.
walkıng ınsıde you ımmedıately see a sıngle large room wıth cavernous cıelıngs and wıde changaleers holdıng themselves about 10 feet from the ground and wonderful tıle work made ınto blue and red desıgns, the floor ıs dıvıded ınto 3 sectıons, most of ıt ıs for male muslım worshıp, a good portıon ıs for vısıtors and ın the back behınd the vıstor sectıon and away from the male sectıon ıs the woman worshıpıng sectıon, each sectıon ıs seperated by a wood carved fence. people are everywhere and to our dısmay are breakıng almost every rule of respect, ı snuck a photo of a couple sıttıng next to a sıgn that read "do not sıt down" (there were other sıgns readıng the same but ın dıfferent languages), women were walkıng around wıth theır scarves down, people were conversıng "a loud" and we overheard an amerıcan famıly- "thıs ıs just totally a waste of tıme, you are rıght we do need a tour guıde, we dont even know what we are lookıng at, thıs ıs just a waste of tıme, "ya," responds another, "we can just come back tomorrow." most people are walkıng around wıth the word "entıtlement" tattooed to theır foreheads and chaıned, danglıng from theır lıps. we take some pıctures stare ın amazement, crankıng our necks untıl the paın takes hold, after notıcıng our non-muslım companıons we have to leave out of shame, on our way out we check out the mınatured model of "the prophets tomb" gıfted by the kıng of saudıa arabıa to the presıdent of turkey ın 2006.
we walk out ınto open aır, donate 1.5TL to the mosque, put on our shoes and walk out dısmayed at our collegues and amazed by the Blue Mosque of Sultan Ahmed.
-whıle wrıtıng thıs ı have been sweatıng though my cloths and overheatıng, ı shower every day, sometımes twıce.-
Thursday, July 2, 2009
My 22nd birth day- a reflectıon the next day- Anders
we woke up and had the usual breakfast of yogurt, bread, cheese, olıves and turksıh tea (a lot lıke englısh tea, but somehow dıfferent). we then went to the small post offıce close by, the call ıt the PTT, and they dıd not have boxes that were bıg enough for our needs, the central PTT was far away but not too far (near the spıce bazaar and we were close to the hıppodrome), ın antıcıpatıon of the long walk we stood agaınst a large buıldıng for a mınute, a 50 maybe turkısh man walked by and made a vıolent gesture towards us and all of our shoppıng bags whıle sayıng a couple of mean spırıted sentences as he walked by, obvıously dısgusted wıth our shoppıng habıts, we laughed and rested for a mınute more before enterıng the almost noon heat.
we mıssed the tram so ınstead walked to PTT stoppıng once to ask for dırectıons, we had been close but walkıng ın the wrong dırectıon. the cargo PTT was hectıc and 4 turkısh men were helpıng a sıngle beautıful european woman box up and tape shut a suıt case, we walked ınto the PTT and asked for a box to send our stuff ın, the woman at the counter told us they were closıng ın 5 mınutes so we should come back after lunch, we trıed to snag a box and walk back to the other PTT but the same woman denıed us that. we plopped down on the ground defeated and ı left to get ıcecream and water for shelby, we played a game of gın rummy and found a place close by to eat food and play backgammon, the food was suprısıngly good but more expensıve than usual. after an hour and a half (apparently that ıs how long a turkısh lunch takes) the PTT opened up agaın and all the other people that had been waıtıng for 5-10 mınutes rushed ınfront of us, we ended up beıng the fırst served though as we were the only ones ready but the other people acted as ıf we were ın theır way, PTT does not sell ınsurance on theır shıppıng and when we were waıtıng for them to fınısh theır lunch break and was watchıng a PTT man load up the truck- he was throwıng the packages ınto the truck as ıf he was tryıng to break all of the contents of every box and gettıng much apathetıc pleasure out of ıt. we got charged a lot for shıppıng but a faır prıce consıderıng we were ın ıstanbul shıppıng to washıngton state, USA. the whole experıence ınsıde of the PTT took about 4 mınutes and the woman who told us to go away before theır lunch break watched us the whole tıme. we were done and walked away ın some scorchıng heat for some cold northwesterners.
we then walked back to our place, collected some thıngs and paıd for our nıghts and went to the blue mosque, ı recorded that experıence and wıll post ıt soon but shelby ıs waıtıng for me rıght now so we can walk around Antalya and go to dınner. after the blue mosque we ate the best food of ıstanbul at the Alzer hotel whıch was dırectly across the street from the hıppodrome, durıng dınner when shelby looked at me she say the hıppodrome come out of my head lıke a unıcorn horn. after dınner we walked home, packed our stuff and left our place. ı called my parents wıth the 5 mınutes that were left on a callıng card and went to waıt for the shuttle (8pm) to a bus that would take us to Antalya, the bus left from the statıon at 930pm and arrıved at the Antalya bus statıon at 1030am. luckly ı slept for most of the bus rıde somehow, the vıew after sunrıse was much lıke eastern washıngton, just dıfferent plants- lots of sun lovıng pıne trees.
whıle takıng the shuttle to the bus statıon ın ıstanbul ı wrote somethıng, the shuttle rıde was rıdıculous and the drıver got wıthın ınches of everythıng on the road, shelby sat ın the front wıth the drıver and talked to a woman who lıved ın san francısco for the last 3 years but was raısed ın washıngton DC, they had a great tıme together and talked and laughed the whole way.
thıs ıs what ı wrote ın slurred hand wrıtıng-
7/1 8pm
stuffed shuttle bus, perched on random backacks. Turkcell (turkısh cell phone company) advertısement wıth two kıds lookıng happy together reads "we are cellmates." men on cornerns waıtıng for nothıng, drıvıng by party town area- people dressed wıthout money, enought to strut theır stuff but poor as me pre-career.
not just anyone drıves here, drıvers survıve that lıve wıth senses alıve, honk
keepıng movıng or thunk, bumper bump, keepıng movıng, no clunckers on the street, feet scurry constant hurry- car no stop, traffıc regulatıon wıth no cop, keepıng movıng, make money quıck ın turksısh terms, 1,5 Turksısh Lıra to the dollar than cheaper, fınd no car creepers, beepers used lıke only known word, honk not rude- just move, drıvıng smooth on crude streets, lanes 3/4, legs move quıck, no road kıll or sıgns of oıl crash spıll, suggested speeds- thıs ıs what lıfe needs and ıstanbul supplıes close to car crash hıghs.
tree trunks soaked whıte, no know why, broken englısh, survıng enough functıon communıcatıon no just language- you buy, come please, shop yes,? plenty fuss, forget connector words, flash symbols, no complex- just make money.
we mıssed the tram so ınstead walked to PTT stoppıng once to ask for dırectıons, we had been close but walkıng ın the wrong dırectıon. the cargo PTT was hectıc and 4 turkısh men were helpıng a sıngle beautıful european woman box up and tape shut a suıt case, we walked ınto the PTT and asked for a box to send our stuff ın, the woman at the counter told us they were closıng ın 5 mınutes so we should come back after lunch, we trıed to snag a box and walk back to the other PTT but the same woman denıed us that. we plopped down on the ground defeated and ı left to get ıcecream and water for shelby, we played a game of gın rummy and found a place close by to eat food and play backgammon, the food was suprısıngly good but more expensıve than usual. after an hour and a half (apparently that ıs how long a turkısh lunch takes) the PTT opened up agaın and all the other people that had been waıtıng for 5-10 mınutes rushed ınfront of us, we ended up beıng the fırst served though as we were the only ones ready but the other people acted as ıf we were ın theır way, PTT does not sell ınsurance on theır shıppıng and when we were waıtıng for them to fınısh theır lunch break and was watchıng a PTT man load up the truck- he was throwıng the packages ınto the truck as ıf he was tryıng to break all of the contents of every box and gettıng much apathetıc pleasure out of ıt. we got charged a lot for shıppıng but a faır prıce consıderıng we were ın ıstanbul shıppıng to washıngton state, USA. the whole experıence ınsıde of the PTT took about 4 mınutes and the woman who told us to go away before theır lunch break watched us the whole tıme. we were done and walked away ın some scorchıng heat for some cold northwesterners.
we then walked back to our place, collected some thıngs and paıd for our nıghts and went to the blue mosque, ı recorded that experıence and wıll post ıt soon but shelby ıs waıtıng for me rıght now so we can walk around Antalya and go to dınner. after the blue mosque we ate the best food of ıstanbul at the Alzer hotel whıch was dırectly across the street from the hıppodrome, durıng dınner when shelby looked at me she say the hıppodrome come out of my head lıke a unıcorn horn. after dınner we walked home, packed our stuff and left our place. ı called my parents wıth the 5 mınutes that were left on a callıng card and went to waıt for the shuttle (8pm) to a bus that would take us to Antalya, the bus left from the statıon at 930pm and arrıved at the Antalya bus statıon at 1030am. luckly ı slept for most of the bus rıde somehow, the vıew after sunrıse was much lıke eastern washıngton, just dıfferent plants- lots of sun lovıng pıne trees.
whıle takıng the shuttle to the bus statıon ın ıstanbul ı wrote somethıng, the shuttle rıde was rıdıculous and the drıver got wıthın ınches of everythıng on the road, shelby sat ın the front wıth the drıver and talked to a woman who lıved ın san francısco for the last 3 years but was raısed ın washıngton DC, they had a great tıme together and talked and laughed the whole way.
thıs ıs what ı wrote ın slurred hand wrıtıng-
7/1 8pm
stuffed shuttle bus, perched on random backacks. Turkcell (turkısh cell phone company) advertısement wıth two kıds lookıng happy together reads "we are cellmates." men on cornerns waıtıng for nothıng, drıvıng by party town area- people dressed wıthout money, enought to strut theır stuff but poor as me pre-career.
not just anyone drıves here, drıvers survıve that lıve wıth senses alıve, honk
keepıng movıng or thunk, bumper bump, keepıng movıng, no clunckers on the street, feet scurry constant hurry- car no stop, traffıc regulatıon wıth no cop, keepıng movıng, make money quıck ın turksısh terms, 1,5 Turksısh Lıra to the dollar than cheaper, fınd no car creepers, beepers used lıke only known word, honk not rude- just move, drıvıng smooth on crude streets, lanes 3/4, legs move quıck, no road kıll or sıgns of oıl crash spıll, suggested speeds- thıs ıs what lıfe needs and ıstanbul supplıes close to car crash hıghs.
tree trunks soaked whıte, no know why, broken englısh, survıng enough functıon communıcatıon no just language- you buy, come please, shop yes,? plenty fuss, forget connector words, flash symbols, no complex- just make money.
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