Seduction by Diesel

I have been seduced by a beautiful woman. Her movements are hypnotic and serpentine and she carries me along taking me where she wants to go. I am powerless to stop her, back away or protest. She has taken me away from home and comfort and is lulling me with her charms. And....She smells of diesel.
Leaving Istanbul

Her name? The Orient Express...well, not "The Orient Express"...that one runs from Istanbul to Paris. This one is the Dostuk Filia and she is taking our family of four on a midnight journey to Thessaloniki. For awhile we will share the same rails of the OE...and the train station in Istanbul is the final destination and home of the OE. But this journey is on her kinder and less mysterious sister.
The Star and Crescent from our Sleeper

Our journey here was fraught with adventure and discomfort and we have never before spent a more inconveniently enchanting evening in our lives. I am paying by the second to post here....more on this story in a future print column. From the Thermaic...Global Nomads

Bad Hair Days

I had a fugue this last week...once we arrived home from Ephesus we were able to experience, in consecutive bouts, a mild form of some stomach ailment. Couple that with the heat and it laid us a bit low and sapped my limited wit and discourse ability.
We are still not back on our feet firmly, but will be leaving in a few hours on the overnight train from Istanbul to Thessaloniki. We have some interviews and research in Greece to complete before returning Sunday or Monday. We aren't sure of our return date because we can't (nor can our neighbors) read the ticket master's scribbles. We do know that it will be sometime in July though.

Just after midnight, a snowdrift stopped the Orient Express in its tracks. The luxurious train was surprisingly full for the time of year. But by the morning there was one passenger fewer. An American lay dead in his compartment, stabbed a dozen times, his door locked from the inside.
With tension mounting, detective Hercule Poirot comes up with not one, but two solutions to the crime.
(from HarperCollins "The Agatha Christie Collection" cover)
Murder on the Orient Express

Upon our return I hope to catch you up on a multitude of subjects, of which these are not the least:

Distracted Turkish Barbers (don't get your hair cut on the day of the World Cup playoffs if there is a TV in the barber shop)

Health Club Cigarette Breaks (they actually have ashtrays on the weight machines...lift a little...puff a little....lift a little...puff a little...lift, lift, lift...puff a lot...lift a little now). My apologies to "The Music Man".

On Becoming A Muslim A few days ago I met with the Village Chief to take care of some registration paperwork. I walked in a Protestant...and walked out a Muslim. We never discussed religious orientation...But my registration paperwork says clearly....Islam Ev...House of Islam. Hmmm?

We will be boarding the Dostuk Filia at the Istanbul Train station in just a few hours. This station was the famed destination in Agatha Christie's "Murder on the Orient Express". We are hoping for a less robust experience.

Window on the World

Looking Down

After seeing the cleaning lady in the next building out on the ledge cleaning windows (4 floors up), a few weeks ago, Stanley had to have his go at it today. Everything was great until he stood up and looked behind him...and then down. After that he decided he could clean just as well sitting on the ledge instead of standing. Then he thought he would be a better "inside spotter" while Ann cleaned on the ledge.

Mopping Up

It doesn't matter how high up the apartment is, to get the windows really clean the women have to get out on the ledge and scrub the windows with soap and a brush and then squeegee it dry. I saw an "80'something" out on a 10th floor ledge the other day scrubbing away. The upside is if she fell to her death, her family would have a "Windex Clear" window, to view granny's flight. Someone once said, "its not the fall that hurts...Its the sudden stop at the end".
We have been here almost 10 weeks now and we impressed our neighbors by getting to the windows today. For an hour Ann and Stanley had an audience of women leaning out on their balconies to see the action.
Even now as I write this column (sitting Turkish style...cushions on the floor),I have an audience. Twenty feet from our livingroom window is an adjacent apartment building with a window facing us. A white sheet covers the window, but the curious mistress of the house keeps peeking through the side of the sheet at the "Yabanci"... Me, the foreigner.
Our Curious Friend's Window

I catch her movement out of the corner of my eye every few minutes, sometimes she lingers and is bold, other times she glances out quickly before disappearing again. I haven't acknowledged her curiosity because it would humiliate her.
So...Here I sit on the Far Side of the World; I'll continue to write...she'll continue to peek...and life will go on in Istanbul.

Heat Culture

Kazasker Jamii on a Quiet Night

It seems that from Grants Pass, Oregon, to Istanbul, Turkey, things are hot. I talked to home yesterday and the temp in GP was 103.3 degrees. In fact the whole West Coast is hot and miserable.
It isn't quite that hot here (wait until August), but the lack of AC sure makes it seem warm. The coolest we have seen the inside temp is 82 degrees in the middle of the night. During the day it hits the high 90's. We are in the shower frequently and wet from the heat in between. "Damp" is our life right now.
We were taking care of government paperwork yesterday in one of the large civil buildings downtown. The line was long and we were crowded into a narrow hallway with one small window that was half open behind the counter. I was holding a form in my hand and by the time I handed it to the clerk it was soaked. The sweat was running down my arms and dripping off my fingers onto the floor. The locals were standing patiently while puddles collected on the floor from the perspiration that was dripping off of them.
A young guy at the front of the line wasn't pleased with the service so he started yelling and taking swings at the little girl behind the counter. Then pell mell hit and we found ourselves in the middle of a good old fist fight. Offices emptied as employees started to rush into the fray. Our small hallway became a sea of people and we found ourselves caught in the wave of movement as the intensity of the fight picked up.
Since we are here to learn the culture and understand the people, I shoved Ann in a corner and looked for the opportunity to leap in. Ahhh...the good days were back and I found the moment refreshing and invigorating. Sweat, body odor, testosterone and a fight you couldn't lose...You can't put a price on that one!
It all ended with a bunch of Turks dragging the ruffian down the marble steps and into a back lot. Just seconds after they had him behind the door....he quit making such a fuss. I think there was a "no paperwork" solution to the problem. It was a great lesson in reactive discipline. I am still smiling.
Waiting Out The Heat At Cemre Kebap

Sorry about the side story...Back to the agenda: It has been so warm that even in the middle of the night the cafes and coffee houses have been empty. The last few days parts of Istanbul have seemed deserted.
That kinda messes things up...I had just submitted our next travel column to the papers talking about the "enchanting evenings and great weather" when things suddenly turned warm. I am not the Master of Timing.

Warming Up

Its been a scorcher here in Istanbul. It didn't break 82 degrees last night and by the time of the Azan (4:40am) the temp was already climbing again. The hot weather makes for beautiful evenings...especially after 10pm. But during the day our apartment starts cooking.
We took a trip up the Bosphorus by boat today to find some relief from the heat. For the next few days we will fall in sync with the locals who are up and out really late while its cooler, and in and down during the heat.

Leander's Tower

Uskudar on the Asian Side

Asia Meets Europe on the Bosphorus Bridge

Bosphorus Bridge

Stanley's Goose in Kadikoy

Sandvik and Soda

We hopped Turk Air 0315 back to Istanbul this morning. And while this was just a 50 minute flight...we had barely stopped climbing when the drink service started up the aisle....followed by another cart with a delightful Turk Hostess asking "Sandvik and Soda"? We got more on this short flight than our Los Angeles to Chicago a few months ago...go figure.
Within an hour of landing we were lugging our backpacks up the stairs and into our apartment in Kadikoy. The neighbors came out to welcome us home and give us our mail. Tomorrow they said they want a "full report" of our travels and time for tea. My buddy at the jep shop kissed my cheeks hello as we headed to the Kebap shop for dinner. It is good to be home.

Emotional Buffet

Ok.....I was a bit emotional last night in my audio blog....the moon, the waves, the sense of history and romance made a bewitching concoction that reduced me to acute melodramatism (is that a word?)
In my defense though, this is a place of overwhelming impressions and sentimental impact. Ephesus was so pivotal in its historical influence and political persuasion that to see it reduced to a pile of rocks messes with my head. I know you egg heads out there can talk about cultural progression and make sense of it all...but I am a simple thinker.
So... tired of swatting skeeters in the lobby of our hotel (the only wifi spot), I am heading to ground leaving you with an ocular buffet to feed your senses.

Comfort Zone

Stanley and Nejmi


A little boy that is making quick friendships in Asia. This is a frequent stop for us in Istanbul. This rug shop owner and Stanley have become good friends...he has an open invitation to hang out with Nejmi anytime and help sell rugs, play backgammon, and drink tea. He has spent hours in this shop with his buddy...shows how quickly your comfort zone can be adjusted, if, you're open to change.

Splitting Hairs and Ripping Roots

Some things are best left unsaid....I hope to learn that lesson someday. It is uncommon to find razors of any quality in our parts. The big deal, locally, are these cool little handheld doodahs that pull your hair out by its roots. They purport a painless and even enjoyable epilation. All the girls at the store say it is the only way to remove unwanted hair from the legs etc.. And all the advertisements show young ladies smiling and laughing while using the product. The younger of my two girls has been longing for one...So, after finding a great deal a few days ago, we bought it.
This is a "girls only" appliance. But, curious to see how the "220 Volt Turbo Epilady Maxima" worked...I touched it (ever so briefly) to my exposed abdomen. I was quite surprised by the words and vocabulary that came so quickly to the tip of my tongue. In all honesty, it was not nearly as pleasant an experience as I expected. There is a lot more about this subject that I would like to tell you about. But am not allowed.
The worst part for me was that both of my girls were able to complete their epilation without vocalizing the words that I yearned to utter.
I am not "Consumer Products", but my personal experience with any 220 volt Epilation appliance, is two thumbs down.
Since I cannot show you the pictures to accompany this story: Here is an assortment of photos from our week. Off to Ephesus in 7 hours.
Basilica Cistern

Hanging With Nejmi and Ahmet

Cat in the Rain
A Turk's Kindness

Point of Light

Time to sharpen your fangs folks. My hide has been thickened in preparation for today's column.
I love our people, we are a giving, caring and sacrificing bunch. But boy....We like our money and its accoutrements. We place such a high value on money that we use it as a filter for the worth of people, positions, plaudits and power. In fact we even base major, life changing decisions on how financially sound it will be, often without any regard for the moral, personal, or humanitarian issues involved.
We have been fortunate to see the giving side of our people. Until now, I was under the impression that we were, by far, the most giving nation in the World.
Shylock was famous for wandering the docks in Venice crying out, "My Ducats, My Daughter...My Ducats, My Daughter". He couldn't decide whether he was more distressed over the loss of a small part of his fortune, or the fact that it had accompanied fair Jessica (his only child) out of his life and into estrangement.
Not much is different on this side of the World. There are those that got...and those that "got naught".
Here's the pinch: Our limited experience in Istanbul has given us the impression that those in need are given much in the way of respect and care. This is not universal in its application, but the interaction we have seen between the needy and the "need nots" has touched us. The poor gather on the steps to the Mosque, where the faithful on their way to prayers, must pass by them. It is rare to see them ignored or passed by without an offering or some act of kindness.
Points of Light in Istanbul


I have seen more "simple giving" to the needy, here in Istanbul, than anywhere else. My prior experience showed me that others wanted to specify "how" someone in need would use whatever might be "gifted" their way. When we do it that way, we not only become the giver but also the administrator of the funds. It boils down to financial manipulation...Charity in the cloak of control. Real gifts are given without regret or reproof. I guess that seems pretty foolish to give so flagrantly...huh? Or is it?
I have a close friend that is elderly. He is famous in Cappadocia for his generosity. His acquaintances tell me that for 50 years he has given to those who were in need...to the point that he has now given his fortune, quite completely, away. Today he helps his son in a rug shop in Istanbul to make ends meet. He is a devout Muslim who is honorable and trustworthy...a man of high esteem in his circle. He is my close personal friend and I look up to him.
Are you still reading? Here's the point: He doesn't regret helping those who may have misused the gift he gave them. In fact, given his current circumstances, he said he would give it away, all over again, if given the chance. He told me it is not his job to differentiate the poor's needs versus their wants...That job belongs only to Allah. Ahmet explained that his job was only to give when he saw a need...not investigate it and weigh it to determine its worth.
Who would have expected to find a heart so generous and self deprecating in this volatile region? See!...Getting out into the fresh air does me good after all. Take a deep breath and think before you respond. The light that is making you squint comes from the smile of an old Cappadocian man who knows the joy of unconditional giving.

Clearing The Air

After the vigorous response to yesterday's posting on the Turkish Toilet I thought we would clear the air today and move in a new direction. Today we had an interview with a Cappadocian friend of mine who owns a rug shop in Sultanahmet. I have been working on a column featuring Ahmet which is due in a few weeks. Once again we were treated like royalty...which is to be expected in any Turkish shop.
While Ahmet and I talked, Ann and the kids were treated to drinks and looked at their pottery offerings. Ahmet invited me to travel to Cappadocia with him tomorrow for a week in his home town. Sadly, I declined due to existing commitments.

Gulhane Park

After leaving the shop we headed around the corner and into Gulhane Park. This was the private garden of the Sultans of the Ottoman Empire until the 1920's. Today it is a hot spot for weekend walks and picnics. Tonight it was enchanting. We finished up with tea overlooking the water...missed the last ferry (again) to Kadikoy and ended up back in Asia a bit north of where we wanted to be. At midnight,its 84 degrees indoors, the streets are still full of people, the windows are open, and the breeze has finally picked up.


The Çai Garden Overlookıng The Bosphorus

Across The Water To Home

Squatter's Rights...and Wrongs

I give, and I give, and I give...but its never enough. Well here it is...the famous Turkish toilet some of you keep asking me about. Now don't go getting all sophisticated and high brow about this (I know some of you are flaring your nostrils right now in repugnance). I have seen bathrooms in the States that are much worse than anything we have run into here (Try the "comfort station" at the I-5 rest stop just north of Kettleman City for starters). Some of you will tell me that this post is beneath me: Yes, it really is.
Turkish Toilet











This is an old public toilet on an old public ferry. This is as bad as we have seen it here, and this one is still very suitable. While the posture needed to acquire a successful transfer takes practice...the upkeep and plumbing are very simple. There is no toilet paper or seat covers, and you never have to worry about "running", clogged or leaking toilets. All final undocking machinations are accomplished using the little plastic garden water jug. At the end of a busy day all it needs is a good hosing down.
Now for the details (this would be a good point for my aunts to stop reading):

You must be flexible in the knees to attain the proper alignment. Make sure that your clothing is not hanging down, touching the floor or (this is really, really important) not in the line of sight between you and the bowl. Do not lean against the wall or support yourself with your hands (your going to need both of them soon)...just place your feet on the treads with your back to the wall, bend at the knees (all the way down) without touching the bowl, and lean forward a bit.
To complete the process you use your Right Hand (this is an important key to remember) to pour water from the jug, onto your Left Hand, which then is used to "freshen up" in place of toilet paper.
You then pour some more water onto the Left Hand to "freshen it up". The real important part of the process? Do not transfer the water jug to the Left Hand at any time. If you do it gets really untidy and no one will come to help you.
Then, as a courtesy, you refill the little plastic jug from another bottle of water in the corner, or in some cases a little water tap on the wall. You are then clear to return to your table and continue your meal.
You will view your Left Hand differently after this. That is why it is rude to shake hands or handle food with the Left Hand in Asia. In fact you will notice people placing their Left Hand behind their back to keep it out of sight while greeting or meeting someone. It also causes you to notice who's Left Hand is returning to the chip bag and your own fingernail hygiene.

Night on the Town

The New Mosque


The days are getting warmer...which is sending more people out late at night. We followed their lead and jumped on the bus last night and headed to the European side to Taksim Square.
After a food stop we were off to Eminonou and the New Mosque (hundreds of years old and still called "new"). We arrived in time for the last prayers of the day at 10:30pm. Fireworks were being shot off at Sultanahmet so we went up the hill and sat in front of the Blue Mosque for awhile after the crowds had left. We had the place to ourselves with the exception of a few gypsy families in the park.
We had missed the last ferry to Kadikoy, so we opted for the ferry to Uskudar. It put us back in Asia and north of where we wanted to be. We arrived in Kadikoy well after midnight and took a Dolmus home.
The dolmus driver wanted me to sit with him and we talked in very bad (my part) Turkish. Before long the whole bus was laughing and talking to us. The driver didn't want us to get off so he slowed down to 5mph the last two miles. As they sped away they were waving and yelling goodbyes through the windows. We walked the last mile to home and got to bed later than I want to admit.

Downtown Istanbul Last Night

Evenings In The East

Looking West, Dozens Of Minarets In The Distance

The weather today deserves a post. I was up with my neighbors for the 4:30ish call to prayer this AM and it was already turning hot. By late afternoon it had begun to cool down and we headed out to visit Koşuyolu. It turned into one of the loveliest evenings we have seen to date.
The street market for our neighborhood in Koşuyolu is on Sunday. We checked out the market, up one hill and down another. And then returned to where we started, up one hill and down another.
Then we saw it....a hill we hadn't climbed yet...one built in the style of San Francisco...at least a mile climb, so we started the walk up the cobblestone street. Elle and I were getting close to the top when Stanley took a stumble and fell. Some passing Turks rushed over to make sure he was Ok. He is...other than some scrapes, torn pants and scuffs.
Tending the Wounded at the Mosque Fountain

We walked a few more miles before grabbing a taxi home. It seemed everywhere we went tonight people were out: On balconies, walking the streets, sitting at the fountains or parks and congregating around the many Mosques we passed. It reminded me of a Summer afternoon in old San Diego.

Trash, Toilets, and Losers

Its "melt your chocolate" weather here in Istanbul. Yeah, I know....we're "San Diego lightweights" when it comes to the heat. If you think that is sad, I have a friend that actually thinks Chicago is America's finest city (that's what happens when you spend too much time indoors kids). For what its worth...Summer has "lit" here in Istanbul.
We have found an apartment to call home. Our move date is late July/early August...it's nice having that issue settled. The apartment is closer to the center of the City and about a 40 minute walk to language school. After the current tenants leave in July, it will need some remodel work, putting us into it mid-summer.













For Those With Sophisticated Palates

Our language skills are progressing: I ordered a drink the other day and got onion rings with it. I didn't know whether to thank them for the gift or reorder. Elle found some toilet paper yesterday called "Yumy".....(MMMmmmmm makes you hungry and wanting a bathroom all at the same time, huh)?

Moving from toilets to trash now. I was drinking tea at a market yesterday when I heard American Music playing over the tea garden's speakers. The words were in English and were surprisingly coarse and explicit. I am no novice when it comes to dockyard language...but these words and the content and theme were filthy and degrading. I have spent many years in locker rooms and among Alpha M's...but I have never heard this type of dialogue. Yet here I was, on the other side of the World and music from my country is blaring in all its brazenness to the ear of adult and child without discretion. I know that this music isn't "Main Stream America"...but they don't. They hear a beat that is catchy and they play it without knowing its translation. And we wonder why our words and actions are not held in high regard among these people of Central Eurasia?
I needed the Rant time: It was either this or the Callous and Conceited Everest Climbers that were on the docket for today. That one will have to wait...I'll need more medication before we talk about those losers...

Walking In The Dark

They tell you that "location" is everything. I have never been one to embrace the life of the "salesman," (I had a bad experience once and don't want to talk about it now). But, if you are in the business of trading goods...then the old phrase fits. Location is everything.
This posting has nothing to do with commerce and everything to do with geography. The last few days we have been overwhelmed with all the things that go along with changing cultures, language, and home.
Let me taxi around this for a moment: A few years ago we lived in a major European City. After the honeymoon stage and the romance of travel wore off, we experienced what every 3rd culture family will tell you about...culture shock. When it hits, you want to hole up and watch Bob Hope and Bing Crosby and shut this "new world" out.
However, we have found the exact opposite in Istanbul. When we miss home, get frustrated about our language struggles and hit the wall physically or emotionally...we find therapy in getting out and spending time with the Turks.
These people are amazing. I know we will eventually have bad experiences and run into people that are unkind. But to date, five weeks into being "Istanbullus", we have yet to find a Turk who isn't quick to laugh and smile.
The last few evenings we have been up and out late, walking the streets at midnight. Tonight as I write this, we have just returned from another stroll. The streets are full of families quietly walking along, fathers smoking, mothers holding the hands of their children, and young people sitting on the wall talking and laughing. The call to prayer rang out around 10:15pm and the courtyard of the Mosque was full of men and boys coming to pray.
The Durum shop was rolling sandwiches and the tea shops were filled with couples drinking and smoking. Everywhere we went we found smiles and laughter.
As I walk down the street each day vendors yell to me and laugh at my bad Turkish. They are quick to help and easy to love. Yesterday one of my friends walked out of his shop...he had learned a phrase just for me: "How can I take your money today"?
It makes me wonder what other peoples we have missed in our wanderings? Our life among the Turks is a rich one. We would have missed so much if we had not met these people. I understand the phrase now: Location, location, location...in our case, its a good one.

Eileen or Irene?

I was sitting in language class this last week when I had a rogue thought: Wouldn't it be a bummer to learn how to speak a new language...and then discover that your language teacher had a lisp?
Those thoughts were floating by as we were repeating phrases that our kind teacher was pronouncing for us. Thankfully, he doesn't have a speech impediment...but it makes you think.
Those are the types of thoughts that keep me awake at night. This has been a rough week for sleeping. Since I am not an "easy sleeper"...getting 4 hours a night puts me in pretty good shape, but even that goal has been elusive lately. On the other hand...it has resulted (at least partly) in a great weight loss program. Our last 12 months in the States saw me become a corpulent, middle aged, wanderer...too young to be a "real hippie" and too old to stay in a hostel. I was stubborn and refused to buy the next size up as we gathered our gear for this move.
Now, in just the last 4 weeks I have lost 10 pounds. Just think...all I need to do is grow 4 inches taller or lose another 40lbs and I will be able to find my "height/weight ratio" on that little brochure the doctor gave me. I may not be in the "ideal" column...but I will be able to point to the pink warning column and find my numbers! After all...my dad has proven that as long as you get to the hospital in time...you never have to modify your diet.

Back On The Water Today

Bosphorus Tunnel

The Dredge Beginning The Work

As we have mentioned before...Istanbul is a city that sits at the meeting point of the continents of Asia and Europe. Most of the tourist's attractions are on the European side, but the oldest, or earliest settled part of the city is on the Asian side.
Separating these two continents and sides of the city is the Bosphorus...a beautiful strait that leads from the Sea of Marmara to the Black Sea. Several bridges span this section of water and the ferries run frequently.

Map Of The Tunnel

But now an incredible project is underway to link the continents by an undersea rail tunnel. The work is just now beginning and the projected completion is in 2011.
For our part, we love the ferry ride across the Bosphorus. We are still out looking for an apartment and have now focused on the Asian side of the city.
This has been a rough week. I still can't find my wit. It seems that I've fallen....and I kinda like it down here.

Whooped

We wore ourselves out today. We wanted to visit some neighborhoods on the European side so we took the ferry to Karakoy and walked around for a few hours. Then we headed back and took the bus to Bostanci and walked the 5 miles to home. If it wasn't for the GPS we would have been cabbing it.
We walked in late tonight and everyone is getting cleaned up and heading to bed. Language school starts early tomorrow.

Heading Down To The Straits

Inside The Ferry

Toxic Tonic For Cheer

Who Holds The Bags In Turkey?

My wit has deserted me and I do not know how to get it back. They told me in elementary school that I could become anything I wanted to be when I grew up. Remember hearing those words of encouragement when we all sat in school as wards of the State?
Well today I had unkind thoughts about my second grade teacher. I had wished Mrs. Corridor (she always wore a jet black wig) was here today to tell me that again...in Turkish. I used to see her sneaking into the teacher's lounge to smoke, she also had the habit of teaching by the door, she would ask us a question and then mosey outside while she waited for our answer. She would always return with a blue cloud wafting around her and flared nostrils. Recess was never late because she had an itch that had to be scratched.
Whenever she would lecture us about "becoming what we wanted to be", I always wondered why she had chosen to become a chain smoking second grade teacher in a red neck town in Southern California? Sorry...they say venting is good for the soul.
We have spent the better part of our weekend on language and I am at the point where the verbs, nouns, and adjectives are spinning around in a mental blender with vowel harmony and word order thrown in. It is a toxic tonic for hope and cheer.
Stanley has the amazing ability to see the word once and remember it. Elle is already reading me street signs and interpreting what others are saying to me. While Ann and I walk around the apartment with a stack of index cards in our hands and mutter things like "I knew that" or "What was it again"...and other phrases of despondency.
So, we went for a 5 mile walk this afternoon to clear our heads and to renew some sort of parental hierarchy by getting the kids so far away from home that they thought they were lost...and then...as the father and mother, the adults and leaders of this crew...lead them home again to safety...and restore to us some of the dignity that we want so desperately to wrap ourselves in.
That was our Sunday ("Pazar" in Turkish...which can also mean a "market" or a "street market" depending on the inflection and emphasis of the voice....yada yada yada). As I was saying...That was our Sunday in Istanbul.


Water Day At The Local Mosque

An Auspicious Day In Istanbul

After Language School today we headed to the European Side of Istanbul. It was a 5 minute walk from school to the Ferries, 20 minute Ferry ride to the E side, then about 15 minutes to Sultanahmet. At Sultanahmet the Aya Sofia is at one end of the square and the Blue Mosque is at the other end. We had decided we would not visit more than one site each time we came across the Bosphorus.
Today it was the Blue Mosque. We had to wait for Friday prayers to end before we were allowed inside. After a quick walk through, we were moved to the back rows by guards, visitors are restricted to the back, so they do not disturb the faithful.

The Blue Mosque


I had met a man outside, earlier in the day, while we were waiting to enter named Mustaffa. We separated upon entering and after we were seated in the back, he came to me and we talked for several minutes, speaking a mixture of Turkish and English. After some time had passed, he motioned for me to follow him. For the next 20 minutes he gave me a tour of the restricted areas, I saw the fragments of the sacred stone from the Kaaba in Mecca. He showed me the Sultan's private balcony where he worshipped alone and the stables beneath the Mosque where the Sultan's horses were kept.
After the tour was over he took me back to Ann and the kids and showed us pictures of his family. He sat with us for 30 minutes and talked of the history of the Caliphs who had ruled in Istanbul.
I didn't know if I was expected to pay him or not...when I mentioned it he refused any payment and invited me to his home for tea the next time we are on the E side of the City. I do not know what his connection is with the Mosque...but as he showed me around, the attendants and guards nodded to him and moved out of his way. It was an auspicious day to visit Sultanahmet.

Waiting For Friday Prayers To End

Barefoot On The Far Side Of The World

I have discovered that personal space is directly related to geography. We all have our own personal comfort zone where we need some space between us and those we are talking to. Other cultures are used to having a very tight sense of space...to stand nose to nose and have a conversation is no big deal. We all have issues about our zone of comfort....that is where Altoids makes the big money.
For me...I like to have my shoes on. I have this thing about shoes...if I have them on I feel ready to face whatever the World throws at me. With my shoes on I can Fight, Flee or Walk. I was never a barefoot kid (I had a bad experience when I was 10, walking 6 blocks to 7/11 barefoot...I still have nightmares about that one).
The U.S. is one of the only cultures I have experienced where we keep our shoes on inside the house. Even there we have found pockets of exception: Wilmar, Minnesota was our first exposure to leaving our shoes at the door. It almost ruined my dinner to be in just socks at the dinner table...it was like that dream where you show up for school in your underwear. I don't know if it was the fact that I was shoeless in front of everyone...or the fact that all these old people had their thin little socks on and there was no vapor barrier between their toes and my nose. In any case...for me, the dinner was a loss.

Our Neighbor's Door


We have found in Turkey that everyone dumps their shoes at the door. The gas guy came yesterday and took off his sandals to bring our gas bottle in. The handyman takes his shoes off before coming into our apartment. In this culture it is unusual to have shoes on indoors.
So, today as I passed our neighbor's apartment I wanted to pass this picture onto you. Yes, we are adapting and I am becoming more comfortable with my shoes off. I just know that one day....when I least expect it...there will be a moment in time where I will need those shoes. For now I will keep them in my lap.


Lunch Stop

Slow News Day

The May Day protests looked a lot like the ones at home. With a few exceptions they were peaceful with just a few hundred arrests. With hundreds of thousands attending that is a pretty low number.
No major violence was reported and those arrested were for the most part engaged in passive resistance. Reminded me of my San Diego State Univ. days.
We now have two different apartments that we are looking at: one is just down the block and the other is a few miles toward the heart of the City. It will probably be next week before we get a chance to take a hard look. We are still wanting to find a place closer to the heart of Kadikoy.
Today was slow...we worked on language studies, attended class and studied some more.

Deserted Streets During The Protest Crackdown

Hanging In The Hood

Turkish Comedy

Merhaba! Nasilsin?....Oh I'm sorry. You must not know the language of the Near East?
(I love that part!)
I picked up a book awhile back titled, "How To Speak Turkish In 7 Days". I had planned on reading it...twice...and then, as a Turkish language expert, offer classes to support us on our odyssey. Well...the best laid plans,huh? So we ended up in traditional Language School yesterday forking out lots of Lira. (I am still trying to get my 5 bucks back for that book).
Language school went well yesterday. I don't quite know if I am really learning or just linguistically and culturally confused...but I "feel" different. After just a few hours in class I now look at the City of Istanbul through a different lens. Its almost as if the experience of sitting with Turks and practicing foreign words and phrases has made me feel as if we are really a part of the City. Sounds goofy? I know.
So, I tried my Turkish on some visitors today...they looked at me, at each other and then, with tea "spewing" out of their mouths, rolled into fits of laughter. I have no idea what I said...but I guess I'm the guy to ask to keep the Hookah party lively.
Back to the books...I want to be funny again tomorrow.

Labor Day

Here was our day in pics:

First Day Of Language School

Riot Police Moving In On Demonstrators In Istanbul

Fences And Guns

Business As Usual Amidst The Protests