Istanbul
"I hope you are looking for me." "Can I help you spend your money?" "Why are you so pretty?" "Why don't you look at me?" "Hello Lady I'm single." I did not make these up. These are real comments from real men. Ellie and I were asked out on a record five dates in one day. This is not to say all Turkish men are like this. On the contrary, outside the touristy areas of Istanbul the Turkish people were as sweet and hospitable as the Italians. However, next time I go to Turkey I will bring with me a man or a child, or both.
We spent 6 nights in Istanbul, an exotic and evocative city. We walked around, shopped shopped shopped, ate ate ate, visited markets and mosques, and took an amazing boat ride up the Bosphorus--a river that cuts through Istanbul and divides the city into its European side and its Asian side (geographically speaking). Highlights include:
Wandering through a refreshingly non-touristed market in an old, traditional neighborhood. There were stands of produce, nuts, spices, desserts, clothing, housewares, and fabrics. Women in headscarves carried bags of food, young boys carried trays of tiny glasses of tea.
Watching the afternoon prayers at a mosque. We were warmly welcomed, and given chairs to sit on at the back. Men, in their socks and some in small cloth hats, lined up neatly and alternately stood and knealed as the equivalent of a rabbi/priest chanted prayers. Men wearing business suits scurried in late. The interior of the mosque sported plush red carpets, pretty lighting, and beautiful painted tiles. The prayers, projected over loudspeakers from nearly every mosque in the city, sound through the city four times a day.
Gazing at the floodlit seagulls soaring around the bright white minarets of the Blue Mosaque at night.
Drinking fresh squeezed pomegranate juice and eating sweet, syrupy baklava.
Beating a Turkish man at backgammon (tavla) in a teahouse while drinking tiny glasses of sweet black tea (çay-pronounced chai) and smoking a hookah (nargileh). More than one friendly chauvinist comment was made.
After Istanbul we stayed with a family in a tiny village in some beautiful hills above the Aegean coast, 6 kilometers from Greece. We were connected with this family through WWOOF Turkey, though in Turkey you have the option to volunteer or to stay as a paying guest. We chose the latter. It was an amazing experience that I'll remember vividly for a long time. I'll never forget the first morning we were there. We were standing on the road in the village waiting as our host pulled his car out. A truck pulled up and about 10 women, all wearing baggy floraly pants, sweaters, and colorful headscarves climbed in as they laughed and talked loudly. A skinny, dirty pack horse slipped and fell on the road as the women gasped its grizzled owner pulled it to standing and continued down the hill.
Meals were eaten on the floor around a round tray filled with such savory dishes as tiny grilled fish, roasted chicken, stuffed peppers, cabbage in a tomato and olive oil sauce, white beans, broccoli, homemade bread, helva (a dessert made from tahini), salad with lemon juice and peppers, olives, dolmas (stuffed grape leaves), and yogut, with tea, nuts, and dried figs for dessert.
The cultural immersion and lack of ability to communicate were striking. It was incredibly frustrating at times being so un-proficient in the culture, language, and day-to-day customs. "I'm not nearly as inept at home!" I yearned to tell them as I struggled to do such basic things as eat and speak. We also relinquished all agency and predictability (two aspects of life vital to your sanity and enjoyment I discovered) as we were driven around the area to see such amazing sights as the ruins of Troy, restored stone villages, the stormy coast, and a beautiful little island.
As I half enjoyed, half struggled, always fascinated, through each day I reminded myself of the purpose of my travels this year: to enter into other worlds and ways of life different from my own, to learn about them and experience them. This process was sometimes enjoyable and relaxing, and at other times challenging and frustrating. Leaving my comfort zone was consistently rewarding, however, as I gained insight into foreign cultures and developed a new appreciation for my own life at home as well (like being able to throw toilet paper in the toilet).
This is my last entry until next spring, when I'll be teaching English in rural Nepal and wishing things were only so easy as they were in Turkey.
Blog updates: Pictures of Turkey are up on Picasa (and Paris-where I am now-will be too in a couple days), and finally the very short Highland cow video is up on YouTube as well. I was browsing my blog settings and realized that I think my blog was set in a way that allowed only people with Gmail accounts to post comments. I changed it so if you had any trouble before you may be able to post now.
Thank you so much for reading and thank you for all your lovely comments.
Hang in there, spring isn't so far away.
