The last trip I had planned unfolded perfectly two weekends ago. By word-of-mouth, Jamar and I learned of a beautiful, world-famous beach on the Mediterranean named Oludeniz, near the city of Fethiye. We also heard of an ancient city called Olympos, which pours out onto a similarly beautiful beach. We wanted to visit these places the first weekend of June. It was to be our last trip before everyone split up for the summer. Jamar decided to go to Fethiye the following weekend with the girls; since the World Cup opened that weekend, I would explore Fethiye anyway. Instead, Jamar would go to Antalya, a city about 500 km from Fethiye; we agreed to try to meet each other in Olympos (about halfway between Fethiye and Antalya) on Sunday.
There is a new intern at TOBB; Ayo Chan is an IR major from Hong Kong University; he arrived the beginning of June and will leave midway through July. Jamar and I took him under our wing and promised to show him around Turkey, as well as teach him how to get around on his own after we leave (we take the lessons of Turkish hospitality seriously). So, Ayo and I set off on a Thursday overnight bus to Fethiye.
Unfortunately, the major towns of the southwest Med are designed specifically for tourists; the beaten path has been trodden so hard as to disfigure anything Turkish. In Fethiye, Antalya, Kas, and Olympos, English menus outnumber Turkish versions, displaying misleading names (and exorbitant prices) for classic Turkish foods: Cigkofte becomes Turkish meatballs (calling apples pears); pide becomes Turkish pizza (calling spaghetti macaroni and cheese); and Kayseri manta becomes Turkish ravioli (the two aren't even in the same category of the food pyramid, in my opinion). Also, eager Turkish salesmen heckled us like we were walking wallets, in some places going so far as to block our path and grab us by the arm: gross behavior we would NEVER receive in humble Ankara. Even our Turkish language abilities didn't spare us from harassment. In many places, I felt I had left Turkey and entered "Turkeyland: the World-Class Resort for Europeans and Americans."
Even still, that weekend was certainly the best I've had in Turkey. Oludeniz was indeed picture perfect, but it's well groomed sands were unsatisfactorily artificial as it was abuzz with tourist buildup. So, Ayo and I took a water taxi to nearby Butterfly Valley, which we had read about in Lonely Planet. The secluded valley (accessible only by boat or expert hikers) is a hippie slice of heaven. An organic farm hosts hammocks and two open-air bars; guests and volunteers of the farm reside in simple bungalows on stilts or two-person tents. Everything is painted with psychedelic symbols, mystic markings, and esoteric engravings: Om signs stared out from napkin holders, I-n-I's were etched into the trash bins, and colorful signposts demarcated every area of the valley, from the beach volleyball court to the waterfall. The namesake insect fluttered among a wild ecology of flowers tangled on the banks of a brook. On either side of the narrow valley, rock walls rise a quarter click high, creating a feeling of secure isolation. The vibe was so perfectly relaxed, it was all I could do to resist staying the night (the last water taxi leaves at 5:oopm; when the sun goes down, the guitars, bonfires, and spirits come out). I met a young Welsh hippie pulling up weeds on the pristine beach. He told me his story: he'd come to Oludeniz, Turkey for the first time two weeks ago with a friend, bumming along with his parents on their 50th birthday celebration. When he and his buddy found Butterfly Valley, they left his parents in the cushy comforts of the resorts and passed their vacation eschewing the chill lifestyle of the eco-friendly spot. He returned to Wales with his parents, grabbed his diploma from university, paid off his phone bill, and took the next flight back to Turkey. He would be working there for the summer.
I was quite taken by his alternative lifestyle; I now know that I have plenty of back-up options. As I left him to continue pulling weeds, we introduced ourselves. "Warren," I said. "Wally," he replied with a friendly handshake and an amused twinkle in his eye.
After the ride back on the last water taxi-- the coolest transport in the Med.: Turkish jazz and reggae set the mood as the clear blue water and brightly shining sun inculcated in me a deep sense of bliss-- we took a dolmus away from the beach, to another periphery valley LP clued us in to. Here we found a campsite in Kabak, a rural village now abounding with campsites since a road has recently linked it to the rest of Turkey a few years ago. Many like-minded foreign backpackers come to this valley to escape the resort atmosphere of Fethiye. And with good reason- the valley lacks almost any electricity, so the stars shine and everything is quiet, so quiet. Bedtime is shortly after sunset, and breakfast is at dawn. Ayo and I arrived a half hour before sunset, just as the hostel-campsite staff were preparing dinner for everyone (perk of the campsite: dinner AND breakfast are included). I have pictures on facebook of the campsite; it's too beautiful for me to paint with words: the deck of the reception/eating area, which looks out over the valley and into the Med., is adorned with dream-catchers, tribal masks, tealights, plants and tables with inlays of mosaic glass shards. Diners lounge on throw pillows and admire the campfire and ward off the dangling company of curious lovebugs. We happened to get the last available tent; the campsite was unusually busy because a group of British acupuncturists were there on retreat for a week to learn Qi Gong 18, a form of Tai-Chi. The night pretty much went perfectly from there, as Ayo and I conversed with the interested/interesting adults until the later hours. They told us of their practice and their experiences with the healing powers of acupuncture: remedies for everything from aches and pains to colds and fevers. It was really nice to hangout with adults and speak English with new people! I had a perfect night.
The next morning at dawn I attended their very first Qi Gong 18 lesson. The practice is popular in Indonesia: it is a series of 18 motions of six times repetitions; just as people in the US go jogging, Tai Chi practitioners do Tai Chi in parks and at home. The sun rose over the valley walls towards the end of the session, lighting up the blue of the Med. as we sank into the movements' meditative rhythms.
After breakfast and packing, Ayo and I headed down to the beach. We planned on hiking up the valley on a route called the Lycian Way. The path is the Appalachian trail of the southern Med, and runs 500km between Fethiye and Antalya, hitting up Olympos on the way. It has been named one of the top 10 walks in the world. Ayo and I were to hike to a rural village three hours up the valley, then try to hitchhike to the main road and catch a bus/free ride to Kas, a town in the south, by nightfall. After some paddling in the perfect waters of the beach, we began our hike. Unfortunately, Ayo's footwear was ill-equipped to handle the terrain and, not wanting to risk dehydration, injury, or nightfall in the middle of the rural trail, we altered our route into a circuit that took us back into the village after a few hours. Despite the setback, the hiking was spectacular; I'm definitely going to hike the whole thing, one day (any companions?). By mid-afternoon we were on a bus winding its way along the jagged Med coast to Kas.
At this point I'd grown disillusioned with the LP. On the one hand, it showcases some seriously excellent sites. On the other hand, everyone knows about the secret spots, and those untamed patches of world left decrease every successive edition. For example, LP let us know about Butterfly Valley and Kabak's campsites; but everyone goes to these places so, despite their cool vibes, they don't have that hidden authenticity travelers like me search for. This is why I wanted to hike the Lycian Way to the isolated village of Allinci, a destination off-limits save to those searching to get lost.
With this in mind, I didn't want to refer to the LP for the rest of the trip-- a sense of personal accomplishment would be lost with its reference. Therefore, when we arrived in Kas, a picaresque town on the sea with a quaint marina and thriving multinational patronage downtown, I refused to resort to it for lodgings. Using Turkish, I found accommodations for Ayo and me: a double bedroom with in-room allafranca toilet/shower, free internet, free breakfast, and a lounge/common area, all for 20TL ($12). I was proud I'd found the place; it seemed as though the adventurous part of the trip was underway. Ayo and I freshened up and hit the town as the sun set, walking along the seawall alongside old German tourists. Ayo and I have different evening mentalities though; he wasn't into the latenight barhopping scene, so we compromised: we found a terrace under construction a bit away from the downtown and conversed for a long time.
The next day, I awoke early and watched the dawn (since Belize I've taken extra care to watch sunrises and sunsets) from the seawall. After a delicious kahvalti, Ayo and I headed for Olympos to meet with Jamar, Inshallah. It took about 4 hours, including waiting to transfer, for us to reach the coast.
Olympos was far different from my fantastic expectations. The ancient city was certainly not a secluded, overgrown gem on the Mediterranean; instead, it was a hotbed of backpackers and day-tourists. "Tree houses" comprise the majority of accommodations, attracting hoards of international youth (in reality, they are sparse shacks), while the sunny beach bakes vacationing Turks. The level of commercialization was difficult to fathom, considering my expectations. Even the city was unremarkable- a few pockets of crumbled walls in tangled, buggy woods.
Fortunately, there were two successes. First, Ayo had never been to a beach as long as Olympos (Rhode Islanders: think slightly longer than Narragansett). Secondly, despite arriving two hours past our rendezvous time, we actually managed to locate Jamar, amid the throngs of people, lounging in the sun. Reunited, we swapped stories of our weekends, explored the hyperexploited and ignored ruins, then left to get some dinner in Antalya. The bus ride to the Med's major city took over an hour- by the time we reached the bus station, we were eager for some Tavuk Doner.
This is when the trip hit its only low. Back in the big bad city, we were beaten by tourist treatment uncharacteristic of Ankara. Catcalled in English by avarice-eyed vendors, we couldn't go anywhere without harassment. In one mall, we were physically blocked and manhandled by brash waiters. Furthermore, the price of food was appallingly high- 3 or 4 times the normative cost. Jamar and I indignantly dragged Ayo up and down the dark, rainy Antalya streets looking for respect. Far from the built-up coastline, we at last found those authentic bastions of delicious Turkish food, and we gorged accordingly.
We even were able to bargain the bus to Ankara down TL 10 each, which was a definite plus considering there were in-seat TVs and plenty of Nescafe.
Despite the aggressive hounding of the last few hours, and the overall disappointment of Olympos, the weekend was spectacular. Like my time in Turkey, the most meaningful experiences came from good preparation mixed with great fortune. And, like the best Turkish food, the greatest recreation cost very little.
18 Haziran 2010 Cuma
1 Haziran 2010 Salı
On Flotillas and Fighting
Yesterday, one of the ships in an international humanitarian flotilla meant to deliver aid to the Gaza Strip was attacked by Israeli Defense Forces, resulting in the deaths of at least nine. Outraged protesters gathered worldwide to demand an apology from Israel. Turkey, whose ship was targeted and whose citizens are the majority of the dead, angrily leads the condemnation of Israel. Foreign Minister Ahmet Davutoglu calls the attacks "murder by a state." Immediately after the incident, officials from Europe, the US, and the UN met to form an emergency response. The statement from these talks expresses concern and the need for an immediate inquiry into the violence; sterner sanctions are, as yet, awhile off.
Here in Ankara, the reaction from students has been anything but restrained. Political alliances are well known by the Turkish public- it is no secret that the United States is a firm supporter of Israel. Oftentimes, this relationship negatively links the US with Israel's more brash behavior: the US is, in the minds of many Turks, a de facto supporter of the nation that humiliated its ambassador in January and reduced the Gaza Strip to rubble in early 2009. This support is further connected with a perceived Western dislike of Muslims (many in the EU publicly oppose Turkish membership to the body on the grounds that Turkey is a Muslim country). So when students asked what I thought of the incident, the question was really: "Given your affiliation with Israel, to what extent do you support this barbaric attack against philanthropic Turks, impoverished Gazans, and Muslims in general?"
I told them that killing humanitarians in general is deplorable. Even if the humanitarians did attack the IDF, warranting defensive maneuvers, the deaths beg the question: how did several armed soldiers up against knives and clubs end up killing 10 people?
This response seemed to please the students. Then they wanted to know my opinion on Turkey's reaction. I said war is not an option, for two reasons. First, the flotilla does not represent the government; though many Turkish politicians may support the mission, the efforts represent an international, humanitarian, and, importantly, apolitical attempt to help Gazans. Therefore, though Turks were killed, Turkey per se wasn't targeted. Secondly, humanitarians get killed all the time, and the deaths of humanitarians has never been a reason for war. Members of the international anti-famine group Action Contre la Faim are routinely kidnapped, killed, or otherwise brutalized in places such as Sri Lanka and DRC. If there is to be international outrage solely on the grounds of humanitarian deaths, may it be much broader in scope than this one well-televised incident. Turkey is unlikely and would be ill-advised to rush to war.
Many students were visibly, vehemently angry at Israel. We discovered the extent of the anti-Israeli feelings later that evening on the student's Facebooks. Several students (not all; well less than half even) posted images of protest as their default photos: Xed out Israeli flags or combination Turkish-Palestinian flags. Worse though were the numerous defaults of Hitler, accompanied by his quotes in the status bar: "In the future, people will wish I had finished the job" is the most common post, sometimes in both Turkish and English. We were dumbfounded by this harsh, extreme statements.
Unfortunately the sudden burst of anti-Israeli sentiment is predictable. Turks are fiercely nationalistic; the deaths of their citizens will certainly be lionized. There is also the recent political tensions that I mentioned. But the Hitler quotes and images reveal the antisemitic side of some of those who loathe Israel. Turkey is still--if just on the periphery--a part of the Middle East; this sometimes entails an undercurrent of antisemitic feelings and more usually a distrust of Jews. This dislike has cropped up elsewhere: when we prepared a lesson plan around the 9/11 terror attacks, many students were quick to blame "the Jews"; according to them, none of "the Jews" went to work on September 11th (the Internet is the common source of conspiracy theories such as this). Its always tragicomic to hear educated college students make widespread accusations such as this in a supposedly modern university in a supposedly modern city. The undercurrent of antisemitism, the distrust of Israel, and national pride all combine to produce some very distressing, ill thought-out reactions.
The beauty of the Internet is instant access to multiple points of view, as well as an unrestricted ability to comment on all subjects. Discussion, debate, and idea-sharing thrive in forums. Unfortunately, as often as this power is used for good (think flash-Twitter protests in Egypt, Iran), too often arguments devolve into incivility as gut reactions find quick, easy outlets. The elements of anti-Israeli sentiments combined with the Internet to produce some extreme forms of protest.
The important thing to note in all of this is that, despite the reactionism, most Turks are not antisemitic or anti-Israel. Indeed, just as the actions of the IDF and the Israeli government overshadow the probable majority of ordinary peace-loving Israeli citizens, so too do the actions of a few reactionary Turks obscure the majority of level-headed, tolerant Turks. What this incident and the Internet responses do allow is an unfiltered view of each nation at its worst. In the case of Israel, security priorities apparently trump cooperation with aid workers. In Turkey, nationalism and antisemitism manifest into appalling bigotry. Hopefully, in the wake of this crisis each of the involved governments will communicate and gather information responsibly with electronic tools. Otherwise, irrationality and extremism will worsen a tragedy: a crisis nobody wants. Cooler heads must prevail, Inshallah.
Here in Ankara, the reaction from students has been anything but restrained. Political alliances are well known by the Turkish public- it is no secret that the United States is a firm supporter of Israel. Oftentimes, this relationship negatively links the US with Israel's more brash behavior: the US is, in the minds of many Turks, a de facto supporter of the nation that humiliated its ambassador in January and reduced the Gaza Strip to rubble in early 2009. This support is further connected with a perceived Western dislike of Muslims (many in the EU publicly oppose Turkish membership to the body on the grounds that Turkey is a Muslim country). So when students asked what I thought of the incident, the question was really: "Given your affiliation with Israel, to what extent do you support this barbaric attack against philanthropic Turks, impoverished Gazans, and Muslims in general?"
I told them that killing humanitarians in general is deplorable. Even if the humanitarians did attack the IDF, warranting defensive maneuvers, the deaths beg the question: how did several armed soldiers up against knives and clubs end up killing 10 people?
This response seemed to please the students. Then they wanted to know my opinion on Turkey's reaction. I said war is not an option, for two reasons. First, the flotilla does not represent the government; though many Turkish politicians may support the mission, the efforts represent an international, humanitarian, and, importantly, apolitical attempt to help Gazans. Therefore, though Turks were killed, Turkey per se wasn't targeted. Secondly, humanitarians get killed all the time, and the deaths of humanitarians has never been a reason for war. Members of the international anti-famine group Action Contre la Faim are routinely kidnapped, killed, or otherwise brutalized in places such as Sri Lanka and DRC. If there is to be international outrage solely on the grounds of humanitarian deaths, may it be much broader in scope than this one well-televised incident. Turkey is unlikely and would be ill-advised to rush to war.
Many students were visibly, vehemently angry at Israel. We discovered the extent of the anti-Israeli feelings later that evening on the student's Facebooks. Several students (not all; well less than half even) posted images of protest as their default photos: Xed out Israeli flags or combination Turkish-Palestinian flags. Worse though were the numerous defaults of Hitler, accompanied by his quotes in the status bar: "In the future, people will wish I had finished the job" is the most common post, sometimes in both Turkish and English. We were dumbfounded by this harsh, extreme statements.
Unfortunately the sudden burst of anti-Israeli sentiment is predictable. Turks are fiercely nationalistic; the deaths of their citizens will certainly be lionized. There is also the recent political tensions that I mentioned. But the Hitler quotes and images reveal the antisemitic side of some of those who loathe Israel. Turkey is still--if just on the periphery--a part of the Middle East; this sometimes entails an undercurrent of antisemitic feelings and more usually a distrust of Jews. This dislike has cropped up elsewhere: when we prepared a lesson plan around the 9/11 terror attacks, many students were quick to blame "the Jews"; according to them, none of "the Jews" went to work on September 11th (the Internet is the common source of conspiracy theories such as this). Its always tragicomic to hear educated college students make widespread accusations such as this in a supposedly modern university in a supposedly modern city. The undercurrent of antisemitism, the distrust of Israel, and national pride all combine to produce some very distressing, ill thought-out reactions.
The beauty of the Internet is instant access to multiple points of view, as well as an unrestricted ability to comment on all subjects. Discussion, debate, and idea-sharing thrive in forums. Unfortunately, as often as this power is used for good (think flash-Twitter protests in Egypt, Iran), too often arguments devolve into incivility as gut reactions find quick, easy outlets. The elements of anti-Israeli sentiments combined with the Internet to produce some extreme forms of protest.
The important thing to note in all of this is that, despite the reactionism, most Turks are not antisemitic or anti-Israel. Indeed, just as the actions of the IDF and the Israeli government overshadow the probable majority of ordinary peace-loving Israeli citizens, so too do the actions of a few reactionary Turks obscure the majority of level-headed, tolerant Turks. What this incident and the Internet responses do allow is an unfiltered view of each nation at its worst. In the case of Israel, security priorities apparently trump cooperation with aid workers. In Turkey, nationalism and antisemitism manifest into appalling bigotry. Hopefully, in the wake of this crisis each of the involved governments will communicate and gather information responsibly with electronic tools. Otherwise, irrationality and extremism will worsen a tragedy: a crisis nobody wants. Cooler heads must prevail, Inshallah.
28 Mayıs 2010 Cuma
Turmexilizean Vacation Part Dos: Rain, Crocodillos, and Reggae
When Ellie and I awoke to hit Cozumel's downtown (and its only discernible urban buildup), the clouds were on the verge of rain. And no sooner had we left our hostel to find the nearest taxi then it started to rain big, wet, tropical drops. We eventually hailed a cab, but we agreed to rent a car the next day and save ourselves the trouble of finding transportation in inclement weather.
We trudged around the central plaza and the surrounding stores looking for a fabled taco place (I say "trudged" because in some places the water rushed like a brook). The superb taco joint was worth the hike, and I acquainted myself with true Central American fare. We spent a couple hours hoping to wait the out the rain. Unfortunately it only got worse, until the streets of Cozumel resembled the canals of Venice. The water overflowed onto the sidewalk, and Ellie, in sandals, had to jump on my back as I slogged across to our taxi home. I discovered my waterproof hiking shoes fail underwater. Even though everything was closed, dinner was great and the proprietors very friendly.
The next morning (Saturday the 17th), a beautiful, sunshiny day realized our hopes for good weather on Ellie's birthday. After a delicious breakfast of chocolate cereal (we ate almost the entire box), we rented a splendid little green car with a convertible leather roof. In Cozumel, only a US Driver's License is required to rent a vehicle. It only took a few moments to remember how to drive before we were off around the south of the island. The drive was lovely: sun blazing, unspoiled, rocky beaches to the right, blue skies and puffy white clouds above, and wild jungle to the left. Cozumel is strikingly undeveloped- there are very few roads other than the main circuit round the island, and those paths that do wander off lead only to the rest stops or hotels.
After some disappointing Mayan ruins (a gutted rock piling overshadowed by a new Catholic church) and delicious mangoes-on-a-stick (a fantastic treat), we reached the southern tip of the island. The total drive was less than an hour. The southern tip is a large ecological reserve, famed for its crocodiles. It is here we met Manuel (I think- we didn't quite catch his name), a beaming park ranger who spoke only Spanish. He was very friendly- he offered many times to take our photographs and seemed genuinely interested in showing off his park to us. A wooden bridge over the shallows of a lagoon led to a 20 meter high observation post. Manuel gleefully called over the "crocodillos" for us through an extraordinary talent: by simply emitting a loud whistle, he summoned no less than six lazy, crooked-smile crocodiles. He introduced the crocodiles as though they were family members- each had a name, age, length, and personality. Some were photogenic, friendly; others contented themselves in the shade beneath the bridge. Periodically he would call forth more of the family with his piercing whistle.
Eventually we moved on as a large tour group rolled in on dune buggies. Manuel walked us to our car, stopping by a small Mayan ruin. The info plaque was in three languages: English, Spanish, and Mayan. Manuel impressed us by translating the exotic language for us. The pronunciation is beautiful though not intuitive, and explained the origins of some of the more difficult Mexican place names (like Oaxaca).
We continued on to the lighthouse and its maritime museum. From the lighthouse we viewed the lagoon that makes up most of Cozumel's southern tip. The weather, water, and salty breeze were so idyllic- after the winter in Boston and Ankara, the sticky heat and beating sun were refreshing. We ate lunch at a Reggae bar, which to my dismay had no credit card abilities (something common in the region we traveled).
The rest of the drive was unremarkable- more virgin landscapes of surf and tangled growth. That night, we went out to dinner for Ellie's birthday dinner at a very Americanized restaurant next to the sea wall downtown. Travel tip: always say it's your birthday, no matter where you are. The manager himself came out and offered Ellie the choice of a free drink or a piece of cake. Not a bad deal (she took the cake). The only wrinkle in the night was the resumption of the beating rain, which again prevented barhopping and drove us early back to the hostel.
We awoke at 6am the next morning to begin our day of travel to Belize. After a frenzied drive up and down the roads of the downtown, we finally found the rental car store; we only just made our ferry to Playa del Carmen...
We trudged around the central plaza and the surrounding stores looking for a fabled taco place (I say "trudged" because in some places the water rushed like a brook). The superb taco joint was worth the hike, and I acquainted myself with true Central American fare. We spent a couple hours hoping to wait the out the rain. Unfortunately it only got worse, until the streets of Cozumel resembled the canals of Venice. The water overflowed onto the sidewalk, and Ellie, in sandals, had to jump on my back as I slogged across to our taxi home. I discovered my waterproof hiking shoes fail underwater. Even though everything was closed, dinner was great and the proprietors very friendly.
The next morning (Saturday the 17th), a beautiful, sunshiny day realized our hopes for good weather on Ellie's birthday. After a delicious breakfast of chocolate cereal (we ate almost the entire box), we rented a splendid little green car with a convertible leather roof. In Cozumel, only a US Driver's License is required to rent a vehicle. It only took a few moments to remember how to drive before we were off around the south of the island. The drive was lovely: sun blazing, unspoiled, rocky beaches to the right, blue skies and puffy white clouds above, and wild jungle to the left. Cozumel is strikingly undeveloped- there are very few roads other than the main circuit round the island, and those paths that do wander off lead only to the rest stops or hotels.
After some disappointing Mayan ruins (a gutted rock piling overshadowed by a new Catholic church) and delicious mangoes-on-a-stick (a fantastic treat), we reached the southern tip of the island. The total drive was less than an hour. The southern tip is a large ecological reserve, famed for its crocodiles. It is here we met Manuel (I think- we didn't quite catch his name), a beaming park ranger who spoke only Spanish. He was very friendly- he offered many times to take our photographs and seemed genuinely interested in showing off his park to us. A wooden bridge over the shallows of a lagoon led to a 20 meter high observation post. Manuel gleefully called over the "crocodillos" for us through an extraordinary talent: by simply emitting a loud whistle, he summoned no less than six lazy, crooked-smile crocodiles. He introduced the crocodiles as though they were family members- each had a name, age, length, and personality. Some were photogenic, friendly; others contented themselves in the shade beneath the bridge. Periodically he would call forth more of the family with his piercing whistle.
Eventually we moved on as a large tour group rolled in on dune buggies. Manuel walked us to our car, stopping by a small Mayan ruin. The info plaque was in three languages: English, Spanish, and Mayan. Manuel impressed us by translating the exotic language for us. The pronunciation is beautiful though not intuitive, and explained the origins of some of the more difficult Mexican place names (like Oaxaca).
We continued on to the lighthouse and its maritime museum. From the lighthouse we viewed the lagoon that makes up most of Cozumel's southern tip. The weather, water, and salty breeze were so idyllic- after the winter in Boston and Ankara, the sticky heat and beating sun were refreshing. We ate lunch at a Reggae bar, which to my dismay had no credit card abilities (something common in the region we traveled).
The rest of the drive was unremarkable- more virgin landscapes of surf and tangled growth. That night, we went out to dinner for Ellie's birthday dinner at a very Americanized restaurant next to the sea wall downtown. Travel tip: always say it's your birthday, no matter where you are. The manager himself came out and offered Ellie the choice of a free drink or a piece of cake. Not a bad deal (she took the cake). The only wrinkle in the night was the resumption of the beating rain, which again prevented barhopping and drove us early back to the hostel.
We awoke at 6am the next morning to begin our day of travel to Belize. After a frenzied drive up and down the roads of the downtown, we finally found the rental car store; we only just made our ferry to Playa del Carmen...
9 Mayıs 2010 Pazar
Turmexilizean Vacation Part 1
The second week of April was TOBB's Spring break- and the vacation I'd been anticipating since February. I was going to visit Ellie for her birthday on Caye Caulker, the tiny island off of Belize where she is volunteering for a high-school of at-risk youth. We were meeting up in Cancun, Mexico first, to spend her birthday weekend on the island of Cozumel. The quintessential travelers, we insisted on spending our time together doing something that was new for the both of us.
On Wednesday, April 14, I left Ankara at midnight and traveled with Jamar, Julia, and Kenzie to Ataturk Airport in Istanbul (they were going to Cairo. Their trip originally was supposed to begin in Cairo and head up the Sinai to Jerusalem, but fighting on the peninsula forced them to reorganize their entire trip- the day before their departure!). At the Airport we lost each other amidst the hour-long passport/ticket check-in lines.
At the Duty-Free, I tried to buy some presents for Ellie- unfortunately, because my final destination was Mexico City, I couldn't buy the goods. So, I went back into the store, got more of the duty-free items, and went to a different ticket counter. When the clerk asked where I was going, I told her Paris, and walked out of the Duty-Free with my last-minute presents in tow.
The first flight to Paris went off without a hitch; however, I did experience severe language confusion at Charles de Gaulle. My brain has been operating in foreign-language mode for the past several months; every time I want to speak Turkish, I have to translate it out of French and then into Turkish (apparently this is a real phenomenon: Sakine, the teacher in my office with a linguistics degree, has done research showing that in people learning a third language, they often use their second language as a template. Therefore, even though Turkish isn't similar to French that part of my brain still is activated whenever I hear Turkish). Once I was in France, my brain suddenly became language-confused as both foreign languages tried to get out, like two people pushing through a doorway; the result was that I couldn't say anything at all to the customs agents! I eventually blurted something out in French (once I made it to Mexico, my language confusion went away).
I was now poised for the most difficult leg of my journey- the 11 hour flight from Paris to Mexico City. This was at 1:30 pm Thursday, April 15. We boarded the plane and then waited an hour for a passenger to arrive (his connector was late). Then, once he was on, the pilot announced that, "Due to a volcanic eruption in Iceland, takeoff would be delayed an hour and 40 minutes." This was a very confusing announcement, especially since 10 minutes later we taxied and took-off!
The flight went by reasonably quickly- I was very excited to see Ellie; as a result, I wasn't the least fatigued. I read all of Kafka's "Metamorphosis" (an easy task considering it's only 60 pages). We passed over Boston- I saw a plane landing at Logan, Northeastern's campus, and the inside of Fenway Park. That was a very, very, very strange experience. It was like going home; or more, it was like a dream of going home. It still doesn't feel real (mercifully, on the way back, clouds obscured the city).
After another transfer flight, I landed in Cancun. I hurried into the bathroom and changed my shirt, put on deodorant, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. I was the last person out of the baggage claim area. To my delight I immediately found Ellie, and we made our way into the city to the bus station (it was midnight in Mexico; 7am on Friday, April 16 Turkish time- a total of 30 hours travel). Since Ellie had needed to leave Belize at 6:30 am in order to reach Cancun, we were both very travel weary.
We had about 6 hours until our bus left for Playa del Carmen, the beach where we would take our ferry to Cozumel. So, we passed the time in an all-night restaurant, fighting fatigue over coffee and crosswords. We caught a bus at 5:30; by 7:00 am we had reached Playa, where we'd planned on splaying out on the beach and napping until noon- we figured we couldn't check in to our hostel before then. Unfortunately, it was raining quite relentlessly- so, we were forced to sleep in the bus station for two hours. This was the most tedious part of the trip, admittedly. The typically teeming Playa was a ghost town of rain and grey clouds. And even when we eventually did get our ferry, the waters were so rough that it was more like a rollercoaster. Many people were sea-sick during the 45 minute trip. At long last we reached our hostel, a house in which a very business-like Swiss woman and her German husband rent out the spacious guest bedrooms. Needless to say, Ellie and I passed out for the rest of the afternoon! When we awoke, we were ready to take on the island!
The first flight to Paris went off without a hitch; however, I did experience severe language confusion at Charles de Gaulle. My brain has been operating in foreign-language mode for the past several months; every time I want to speak Turkish, I have to translate it out of French and then into Turkish (apparently this is a real phenomenon: Sakine, the teacher in my office with a linguistics degree, has done research showing that in people learning a third language, they often use their second language as a template. Therefore, even though Turkish isn't similar to French that part of my brain still is activated whenever I hear Turkish). Once I was in France, my brain suddenly became language-confused as both foreign languages tried to get out, like two people pushing through a doorway; the result was that I couldn't say anything at all to the customs agents! I eventually blurted something out in French (once I made it to Mexico, my language confusion went away).
I was now poised for the most difficult leg of my journey- the 11 hour flight from Paris to Mexico City. This was at 1:30 pm Thursday, April 15. We boarded the plane and then waited an hour for a passenger to arrive (his connector was late). Then, once he was on, the pilot announced that, "Due to a volcanic eruption in Iceland, takeoff would be delayed an hour and 40 minutes." This was a very confusing announcement, especially since 10 minutes later we taxied and took-off!
The flight went by reasonably quickly- I was very excited to see Ellie; as a result, I wasn't the least fatigued. I read all of Kafka's "Metamorphosis" (an easy task considering it's only 60 pages). We passed over Boston- I saw a plane landing at Logan, Northeastern's campus, and the inside of Fenway Park. That was a very, very, very strange experience. It was like going home; or more, it was like a dream of going home. It still doesn't feel real (mercifully, on the way back, clouds obscured the city).
After another transfer flight, I landed in Cancun. I hurried into the bathroom and changed my shirt, put on deodorant, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. I was the last person out of the baggage claim area. To my delight I immediately found Ellie, and we made our way into the city to the bus station (it was midnight in Mexico; 7am on Friday, April 16 Turkish time- a total of 30 hours travel). Since Ellie had needed to leave Belize at 6:30 am in order to reach Cancun, we were both very travel weary.
We had about 6 hours until our bus left for Playa del Carmen, the beach where we would take our ferry to Cozumel. So, we passed the time in an all-night restaurant, fighting fatigue over coffee and crosswords. We caught a bus at 5:30; by 7:00 am we had reached Playa, where we'd planned on splaying out on the beach and napping until noon- we figured we couldn't check in to our hostel before then. Unfortunately, it was raining quite relentlessly- so, we were forced to sleep in the bus station for two hours. This was the most tedious part of the trip, admittedly. The typically teeming Playa was a ghost town of rain and grey clouds. And even when we eventually did get our ferry, the waters were so rough that it was more like a rollercoaster. Many people were sea-sick during the 45 minute trip. At long last we reached our hostel, a house in which a very business-like Swiss woman and her German husband rent out the spacious guest bedrooms. Needless to say, Ellie and I passed out for the rest of the afternoon! When we awoke, we were ready to take on the island!
22 Mart 2010 Pazartesi
Why Is "Kapadokya" Spelled Differently in Every language?
The weekend of March 20/21, Jamar, Kenzie and I took a tour of Cappadocia (Kapadokya in Turkish--which is phoenetically equivalent). The tour guide promised us the 185TL package included all museums, rooming, and expenses, except for one lunch on Sunday; also, we were to arrive in Ankara at 8:30. These estimates turned out to be exaggerated, with extra costs totaling more than 50TL (by 'every museum is included' she really meant 'you have to pay for every museum'; by 'all meals are provided' she meant 'most meals are provided'; and 8:30 was really a time picked out of a hat). Now that I've explained these unexpected detractors, I'll detail the AWESOME weekend.
We left early Saturday morning on a bus to the south. Kapadokya is a region, not a destination (like saying southern Rhode Island, for instance, or Provence); this is why we thought it'd be better to take a tour rather than landing ourselves in Nowhere, Turkey. We made several stops along the way to Goreme (Turks love their tea), including the second biggest salt lake in the world after the Dead Sea, Tuz Golu. If you GoogleMap Turkey, you will notice a large white spot south of Ankara. Tuz Golu ("salt lake") is a beautiful, incredibly shallow body of water in the middle of the rolling Anatolian countryside. The economies surrounding the lake depend on the salt industry. Our tour guide spoke Turkish to everyone (we were the only anglophones) and summarized everything for us; accordingly, I didn't get too many details about anything, though I do have some info here and there.
A few hours later (after eating lunch in Turkey's largest cave restaurant), we explored Goreme, an ancient town built into the conic, ethereal, Seussian rock formations known as "fairy chimneys". This place is a true playground of cool stuff, including ancient churches with Coptic-style frescoes from the 10th, 11th, and 12th century Christians that lived there. The Goreme Open Air Museum is only a snippet of the thousands of cave dwellings and churches that exist in this area-- I highly recommend viewing Mackenzie's Facebook photos or Googling the region to get an idea of the landscape.
After too short a time there, we moved on to our hotel in the tiny burgh of Urgup. The best part of this hotel was not the delicous buffet of Turkish food, but in fact the plugged-up bathroom shower; Kenzie and I attempted in several different languages to communicate the blockage, were directed between several different hotel reference numbers, before finally getting a fix on the faulty plug. Jamar and I hungout with the tour guide in Urgup's little downtown center. In addition to being harassed by a very drunk Turkish hick, we saw (or rather, followed the festive noises to) a pre-wedding ceremony. Despite being foreigners, we were able to meet the bride and groom! Unfortunately, they were just wrapping up, so I didn't get to experience any real Turkish dancing or anything. Still, it was a great experience.
The next day we continued through the area by bus. We stopped at a winery and an onyx carving shop. The wine was delicious, though it was probably the earliest I'd ever had wine. Then we went to an underground city: seriously, we visited a city eight storeys deep with stables, kitchens, storerooms, bedrooms, living rooms. Now, when I say 'underground city', don't picture Moria from Lord of the Rings. These dwellings were cramped caves hacked out of the ground. Aesthetic efforts were not made- space was simply carved out of the rock. Doors had massive wheels that could serve as walls against invaders. About 65 known exits dot the hill above the chambers- many more are still being discovered. Ventilation shafts dozens of meters long circulate air through the massive complex. The hour-long tour was very nerve-racking- the claustrophobia and depth caused me quite a bit of anxiety, but it was sooo cool to be in an underground city that I toughed it out. It was worth suppressing a minor panic (I felt the lights would go out at any moment, or I would lose the group and wander around for hours beneath the earth, or there would be an earthquake trapping us within the centuries-old dwelling. Fortunately, noen of my fears materialized). It was a wonderful experience, one I will never forget- the most exciting historical tour in the world, I think! I felt like I had gotten off a rollercoaster once I was out!.
After about an hour's drive, we stopped at a caldera lake- a huge, mountain oasis in the middle of an unassuming Anatolian desert. I wish we'd spent more time there-- it was so huge! Unfortunately, like so many tours, during this one we spent too much time in the gift shops of craft stores and not enough time in the natural places (which is what happens when you're on a tour with people double your age I guess!) Still, I think a tour is the best introduction to the region, and now I know all the places I want to revisit.
We had a couple more pit stops at some fairy chimneys, then went on an awesome hike through a shaded valley. I plan on returning there at some point to walk the full hike at my leisure, exploring the old churches at my own pace. The greenery and the ruins captured my imagination, and it may've been the best birthday hike I could've asked for.
The ride back took forever, but because the bus attendant fell asleep, we got to eat extra snacks and cakes. Kapadokya is a place one can only experience-- a magical place I hope I return to soon.
We left early Saturday morning on a bus to the south. Kapadokya is a region, not a destination (like saying southern Rhode Island, for instance, or Provence); this is why we thought it'd be better to take a tour rather than landing ourselves in Nowhere, Turkey. We made several stops along the way to Goreme (Turks love their tea), including the second biggest salt lake in the world after the Dead Sea, Tuz Golu. If you GoogleMap Turkey, you will notice a large white spot south of Ankara. Tuz Golu ("salt lake") is a beautiful, incredibly shallow body of water in the middle of the rolling Anatolian countryside. The economies surrounding the lake depend on the salt industry. Our tour guide spoke Turkish to everyone (we were the only anglophones) and summarized everything for us; accordingly, I didn't get too many details about anything, though I do have some info here and there.
A few hours later (after eating lunch in Turkey's largest cave restaurant), we explored Goreme, an ancient town built into the conic, ethereal, Seussian rock formations known as "fairy chimneys". This place is a true playground of cool stuff, including ancient churches with Coptic-style frescoes from the 10th, 11th, and 12th century Christians that lived there. The Goreme Open Air Museum is only a snippet of the thousands of cave dwellings and churches that exist in this area-- I highly recommend viewing Mackenzie's Facebook photos or Googling the region to get an idea of the landscape.
After too short a time there, we moved on to our hotel in the tiny burgh of Urgup. The best part of this hotel was not the delicous buffet of Turkish food, but in fact the plugged-up bathroom shower; Kenzie and I attempted in several different languages to communicate the blockage, were directed between several different hotel reference numbers, before finally getting a fix on the faulty plug. Jamar and I hungout with the tour guide in Urgup's little downtown center. In addition to being harassed by a very drunk Turkish hick, we saw (or rather, followed the festive noises to) a pre-wedding ceremony. Despite being foreigners, we were able to meet the bride and groom! Unfortunately, they were just wrapping up, so I didn't get to experience any real Turkish dancing or anything. Still, it was a great experience.
The next day we continued through the area by bus. We stopped at a winery and an onyx carving shop. The wine was delicious, though it was probably the earliest I'd ever had wine. Then we went to an underground city: seriously, we visited a city eight storeys deep with stables, kitchens, storerooms, bedrooms, living rooms. Now, when I say 'underground city', don't picture Moria from Lord of the Rings. These dwellings were cramped caves hacked out of the ground. Aesthetic efforts were not made- space was simply carved out of the rock. Doors had massive wheels that could serve as walls against invaders. About 65 known exits dot the hill above the chambers- many more are still being discovered. Ventilation shafts dozens of meters long circulate air through the massive complex. The hour-long tour was very nerve-racking- the claustrophobia and depth caused me quite a bit of anxiety, but it was sooo cool to be in an underground city that I toughed it out. It was worth suppressing a minor panic (I felt the lights would go out at any moment, or I would lose the group and wander around for hours beneath the earth, or there would be an earthquake trapping us within the centuries-old dwelling. Fortunately, noen of my fears materialized). It was a wonderful experience, one I will never forget- the most exciting historical tour in the world, I think! I felt like I had gotten off a rollercoaster once I was out!.
After about an hour's drive, we stopped at a caldera lake- a huge, mountain oasis in the middle of an unassuming Anatolian desert. I wish we'd spent more time there-- it was so huge! Unfortunately, like so many tours, during this one we spent too much time in the gift shops of craft stores and not enough time in the natural places (which is what happens when you're on a tour with people double your age I guess!) Still, I think a tour is the best introduction to the region, and now I know all the places I want to revisit.
We had a couple more pit stops at some fairy chimneys, then went on an awesome hike through a shaded valley. I plan on returning there at some point to walk the full hike at my leisure, exploring the old churches at my own pace. The greenery and the ruins captured my imagination, and it may've been the best birthday hike I could've asked for.
The ride back took forever, but because the bus attendant fell asleep, we got to eat extra snacks and cakes. Kapadokya is a place one can only experience-- a magical place I hope I return to soon.
15 Mart 2010 Pazartesi
A Little Bit about Egypt
Even though my trip to Egypt was over two weeks ago, the experience is still very clear in my mind, as though it happened yesterday. Cairo leaves such an impression, I doubt I will ever forget the brief trip.
To be sure, having Emily escort me around Cairo was an invaluable advantage. In addition to being a handy-dandy translating machine, Em also explained to me the ins and outs of Egyptian social, economic, political, and modern historical life. She provided an explanation to every baffling social structure, from the nonchalant mysogyny to the patterns of urban sprawl to the complex societal role of the Zabaleen. For anyone wondering what Em has possibly been doing in Cairo for the past THREE YEARS, I am happy to report that she is not only surviving but thriving, putting into practice her education in Int'l Human Rights Law and Arabic, and injecting her characteristic Em-sense of humor into a very serious country. I couldn't have asked for a better guide/friend/protector during this trip!
Obligatory compliments out of the way (I need to make sure I get invited to Tanzania, after all), I'll give a whirlwind retelling of the week. Alot of it was spent just hanging out with Em, Jason, and the ex-pat community. I arrived in Cairo on Saturday night, after weathering Istanbul all day. Em and Jason greeted me as only they would: by hiding behind a column and whispering my name loudly, causing me to swivel my head around uselessly in desperate confusion, until they decided to give me a break and reveal themselves. After two months without family in Turkey, I was overjoyed to see some familiar faces.
My week-long lesson in Egyptian disorganization began in the parking lot. It took us a long time to find Mohammad, their taxi driver, and the airport parking lot felt like a feeding ground for other taxi drivers, who circled us relentlessly; one followed Emily for about 50 feet before Jason finally warded him off. The lack of respect for women, and the refusal to accept the word 'no' (or, as Em says, Helas (sp.?), which means "That's enough!") struck me as appallingly rude.
So far my narrative of Egypt, even in the first twenty minutes after landing, has described Egypt as disorganized, disrespectful, and disagreeable. Like all cultural descriptors (especially from foreigners), it would be overly simplistic of me (and downright wrong) to let the reader think of Egypt only in this way (especially since my experience was so brief and from such a limited perspective). But I can say one thing with relative authority: foreigners are treated only as sources of potentially easy money, regardless of their length of stay in Egypt, their sex, their knowledge of Arabic, their business, or their nationality. If you look like a foreigner, you're treated like a foreigner. This is true of all the touristy places of the world, certainly, but not to the aggressive extent that I saw in Egypt. The taxi drivers were my first taste of this militant cajoling.
"Disorganized" refers to the sprawling layout of Cairo and the city's apparent lack of any city planning, standards, or infrastructure (again, reader be warned, my knowledge of Cairo is opinionated and surface level). This too is obvious from the get-go: Egypt is, after all a desert, so on the drive from the airport into the city, it was astonishing to see fountains and other water-features lining the road--I would later reflect on these unnecessary displays of irrigation as I trudged through the mud streets of Garbage City and witnessed the underdeveloped poverty of a slumtown where drinking water is as noticeably absent as electricity, schools, and sanitation.
Still, from the onset of the trip, I had a tried to keep an open mind. I didn't want my Western evaluation of standards ruin my trip or force an overly judgmental summation of an complex place (the mildly literate reader can discern what became of this attitude though). I knew there were several development problems facing Cairo, so I listened to my sister explain every facet of Cairean society. As we wound through the desert (on a road with a unique characteristic for Egypt: separately-marked lanes), Em and Jason, spurred by my surprise at the taxi drivers' insistent attitudes, detailed the extent of the disrespect they experience on a daily basis. Prompted by the water features, they discussed the unregulated sprawl of Cairo.
As I settled into bed that night, I prepared myself for an educating week in a country so, so different from the United States; one that revealed itself to be the opposite Middle Eastern extreme of Turkey's careful, plodding (plotting) development. After a long 24 hour journey, I let the warm desert air and the thought of ancient sites coax me, easily, to sleep.
To be sure, having Emily escort me around Cairo was an invaluable advantage. In addition to being a handy-dandy translating machine, Em also explained to me the ins and outs of Egyptian social, economic, political, and modern historical life. She provided an explanation to every baffling social structure, from the nonchalant mysogyny to the patterns of urban sprawl to the complex societal role of the Zabaleen. For anyone wondering what Em has possibly been doing in Cairo for the past THREE YEARS, I am happy to report that she is not only surviving but thriving, putting into practice her education in Int'l Human Rights Law and Arabic, and injecting her characteristic Em-sense of humor into a very serious country. I couldn't have asked for a better guide/friend/protector during this trip!
Obligatory compliments out of the way (I need to make sure I get invited to Tanzania, after all), I'll give a whirlwind retelling of the week. Alot of it was spent just hanging out with Em, Jason, and the ex-pat community. I arrived in Cairo on Saturday night, after weathering Istanbul all day. Em and Jason greeted me as only they would: by hiding behind a column and whispering my name loudly, causing me to swivel my head around uselessly in desperate confusion, until they decided to give me a break and reveal themselves. After two months without family in Turkey, I was overjoyed to see some familiar faces.
My week-long lesson in Egyptian disorganization began in the parking lot. It took us a long time to find Mohammad, their taxi driver, and the airport parking lot felt like a feeding ground for other taxi drivers, who circled us relentlessly; one followed Emily for about 50 feet before Jason finally warded him off. The lack of respect for women, and the refusal to accept the word 'no' (or, as Em says, Helas (sp.?), which means "That's enough!") struck me as appallingly rude.
So far my narrative of Egypt, even in the first twenty minutes after landing, has described Egypt as disorganized, disrespectful, and disagreeable. Like all cultural descriptors (especially from foreigners), it would be overly simplistic of me (and downright wrong) to let the reader think of Egypt only in this way (especially since my experience was so brief and from such a limited perspective). But I can say one thing with relative authority: foreigners are treated only as sources of potentially easy money, regardless of their length of stay in Egypt, their sex, their knowledge of Arabic, their business, or their nationality. If you look like a foreigner, you're treated like a foreigner. This is true of all the touristy places of the world, certainly, but not to the aggressive extent that I saw in Egypt. The taxi drivers were my first taste of this militant cajoling.
"Disorganized" refers to the sprawling layout of Cairo and the city's apparent lack of any city planning, standards, or infrastructure (again, reader be warned, my knowledge of Cairo is opinionated and surface level). This too is obvious from the get-go: Egypt is, after all a desert, so on the drive from the airport into the city, it was astonishing to see fountains and other water-features lining the road--I would later reflect on these unnecessary displays of irrigation as I trudged through the mud streets of Garbage City and witnessed the underdeveloped poverty of a slumtown where drinking water is as noticeably absent as electricity, schools, and sanitation.
Still, from the onset of the trip, I had a tried to keep an open mind. I didn't want my Western evaluation of standards ruin my trip or force an overly judgmental summation of an complex place (the mildly literate reader can discern what became of this attitude though). I knew there were several development problems facing Cairo, so I listened to my sister explain every facet of Cairean society. As we wound through the desert (on a road with a unique characteristic for Egypt: separately-marked lanes), Em and Jason, spurred by my surprise at the taxi drivers' insistent attitudes, detailed the extent of the disrespect they experience on a daily basis. Prompted by the water features, they discussed the unregulated sprawl of Cairo.
As I settled into bed that night, I prepared myself for an educating week in a country so, so different from the United States; one that revealed itself to be the opposite Middle Eastern extreme of Turkey's careful, plodding (plotting) development. After a long 24 hour journey, I let the warm desert air and the thought of ancient sites coax me, easily, to sleep.
8 Mart 2010 Pazartesi
Antalya/Alanya
I know I'm really behind in my posts (especially the ones re: Egypt) but I have an excuse. Some of our Dutch friends left for Holland, and we spent the week saying goodbye to them. So, I didn't get a chance to work on anything at home. This past weekend, I went to Antalya and Alanya (and some places in between). It was a stunning trip.
Antalya is the Turkey you dream about: sunshine, water, rugged landscape, welcoming atmosphere... it was hard to leave! There were palm trees and the great blue Mediterranean. I felt very much like I was on vacation! I just wanted to lounge around and soak up the sun; but there was much exploring to do in the surrounding environs! If I ever have unlimited money and time in Turkey, I am going to one of the 5-star hotels on the sandy stretches of shore and sea to relax and explore the mountains and ruins of old Roman ports. For now though, I'm content just backpacking around. There are so many hostels to stay at, and bus transportation is really cheap in between cities. If anyone is researching a summer vacation, I highly highly recommend Antalya or Alanya (I'll even tell you the correct prices to expect, since all the costs are trumped up beyond their inland equivalents).
Annie, Julia, Peter, and Wojtek, along with their Polish friend Paulina, hiked our stuff over to ASTI for an 11pm bus on Friday. We arrived in Antalya (after a glorious descent out of the mountains around dawn) at 7am. Our hostel is in Kaleici, a redone Ottoman neighborhood that is inaccesible by cars. It was a cute, sparse place that could've been any hostel anywhere. Breakfast consisted of handfuls of Cheerios swished around with milk from milk boxes (like juice boxes but with milk). We then explored the little downtown and the restored Roman marina. It was so nice and hot and sunny (20 C!). We were all stunned by the blue Mediterranean waters and the mountains surrounding Antalya in the background. It was indescribably pictaresque.
We then went to the Otogar in order to find a bus; we ended up with a taxi ("a special price just for you-- you can't find anything better on the buses," said the guy at the restaurant who set us up with his brother, our taxi driver). 40 clicks up into the mountains is the overgrown city of Termessos. It was stunningly beautiful- the best place I've been in Turkey, hands-down. Termessos is an ancient town that dates back to the Greek and Roman times (they fought off the Greeks, and the Romans didn't bother conquering them). Trekking up to the city, ruins peep out from the foliage everywhere. The city is a playground, a real playground of old stones and buildings! I actually became about 10 years old jumping around all the old sites. The highlight was the amphitheater. It is situated towards the top of the city and has a view down two valleys. It is in wonderful repair considering it's age, and the acoustics are amazing: Annie and I could easily hear each other's whispers (whispers) from across the amphitheater. I estimate the theater could hold about one thousand people (if not that then more, not less).
After exploring the amphitheater, Wojtek and I summited one of the peaks and had a great view of the surrounding valleys. There are several necropolises (cemeteries) and all the tombs within them are scattered about, opened and ravaged by looters from centuries past. The summit has a small hut that was probably designated for backpackers to stay in but has since been trashed. Nevertheless, it was a great climb.
After about 3 hours of exploring (though I could've stayed all day), we took the taxi to Perge, an old Roman port. It was cool to walk through the ancient main street, and just reflect on the life that had been there: the vibrant commercial life is evident in the remaining architecture and canal, so it is easy to picture all the human dramas that took place there every day. It is easy to assume that our modernity is the culmination of everything desirable from all previous civilizations and, thus, we are somehow superior to them, or at least our daily lives are infinitely better than theirs were. However, walking through this city and Termessos, it is easy to have an appreciation of our ancestors' constructions: other than the abolition of slavery, healthcare advances, and the flush toilet, I'm not sure we are too far advanced from them (especially if you consider they fed and watered their populations without electricity, relying on gravity alone). A canal that winds through the town is a highlight, and I followed it to a statue of the river god. It was wonderfully ornate.
Towards sunset, we returend to an Antalyan beach. After getting lost on an awesome off-season boardwalk, we grabbed some food and returned to the hostel. We made plans to go out and club by the seashore, but all of us were so sleepy we passed out by 11. Next day we got an early start and headed an hour down the coast to Side, another ancient Roman town. This one has been redeveloped, and inhabitants live in Side next to ancient amphitheaters and temples. After a couple hours in this tourist ville we headed to Alanya, another tourist town another hour down the coast. Alanya is like mini-Antalya. Situated at the base of some steep mist-crowned mountains, the sandy beaches extend infinitely to the west. To the east, there is a high cliff with a castle on its plateau. We rested on the sandy beach, flopping down into armchairs. Wojtek and I swam, though not too long because of the strong riptide. Then we went into a large cave with thousands of tiny stalactites and stalagmites. I had never been in such a cave before- it was so charming! Then we found dinner and headed home to Ankara. Our bus left Alanya at 7pm Sunday night- I got home at 7am Monday. I'm now at work. Though I am sleepy and starting to get sick, it was well-worth the snoring men, screaming babies, creepy bus attendants, and vertical sleeping!
Antalya is the Turkey you dream about: sunshine, water, rugged landscape, welcoming atmosphere... it was hard to leave! There were palm trees and the great blue Mediterranean. I felt very much like I was on vacation! I just wanted to lounge around and soak up the sun; but there was much exploring to do in the surrounding environs! If I ever have unlimited money and time in Turkey, I am going to one of the 5-star hotels on the sandy stretches of shore and sea to relax and explore the mountains and ruins of old Roman ports. For now though, I'm content just backpacking around. There are so many hostels to stay at, and bus transportation is really cheap in between cities. If anyone is researching a summer vacation, I highly highly recommend Antalya or Alanya (I'll even tell you the correct prices to expect, since all the costs are trumped up beyond their inland equivalents).
Annie, Julia, Peter, and Wojtek, along with their Polish friend Paulina, hiked our stuff over to ASTI for an 11pm bus on Friday. We arrived in Antalya (after a glorious descent out of the mountains around dawn) at 7am. Our hostel is in Kaleici, a redone Ottoman neighborhood that is inaccesible by cars. It was a cute, sparse place that could've been any hostel anywhere. Breakfast consisted of handfuls of Cheerios swished around with milk from milk boxes (like juice boxes but with milk). We then explored the little downtown and the restored Roman marina. It was so nice and hot and sunny (20 C!). We were all stunned by the blue Mediterranean waters and the mountains surrounding Antalya in the background. It was indescribably pictaresque.
We then went to the Otogar in order to find a bus; we ended up with a taxi ("a special price just for you-- you can't find anything better on the buses," said the guy at the restaurant who set us up with his brother, our taxi driver). 40 clicks up into the mountains is the overgrown city of Termessos. It was stunningly beautiful- the best place I've been in Turkey, hands-down. Termessos is an ancient town that dates back to the Greek and Roman times (they fought off the Greeks, and the Romans didn't bother conquering them). Trekking up to the city, ruins peep out from the foliage everywhere. The city is a playground, a real playground of old stones and buildings! I actually became about 10 years old jumping around all the old sites. The highlight was the amphitheater. It is situated towards the top of the city and has a view down two valleys. It is in wonderful repair considering it's age, and the acoustics are amazing: Annie and I could easily hear each other's whispers (whispers) from across the amphitheater. I estimate the theater could hold about one thousand people (if not that then more, not less).
After exploring the amphitheater, Wojtek and I summited one of the peaks and had a great view of the surrounding valleys. There are several necropolises (cemeteries) and all the tombs within them are scattered about, opened and ravaged by looters from centuries past. The summit has a small hut that was probably designated for backpackers to stay in but has since been trashed. Nevertheless, it was a great climb.
After about 3 hours of exploring (though I could've stayed all day), we took the taxi to Perge, an old Roman port. It was cool to walk through the ancient main street, and just reflect on the life that had been there: the vibrant commercial life is evident in the remaining architecture and canal, so it is easy to picture all the human dramas that took place there every day. It is easy to assume that our modernity is the culmination of everything desirable from all previous civilizations and, thus, we are somehow superior to them, or at least our daily lives are infinitely better than theirs were. However, walking through this city and Termessos, it is easy to have an appreciation of our ancestors' constructions: other than the abolition of slavery, healthcare advances, and the flush toilet, I'm not sure we are too far advanced from them (especially if you consider they fed and watered their populations without electricity, relying on gravity alone). A canal that winds through the town is a highlight, and I followed it to a statue of the river god. It was wonderfully ornate.
Towards sunset, we returend to an Antalyan beach. After getting lost on an awesome off-season boardwalk, we grabbed some food and returned to the hostel. We made plans to go out and club by the seashore, but all of us were so sleepy we passed out by 11. Next day we got an early start and headed an hour down the coast to Side, another ancient Roman town. This one has been redeveloped, and inhabitants live in Side next to ancient amphitheaters and temples. After a couple hours in this tourist ville we headed to Alanya, another tourist town another hour down the coast. Alanya is like mini-Antalya. Situated at the base of some steep mist-crowned mountains, the sandy beaches extend infinitely to the west. To the east, there is a high cliff with a castle on its plateau. We rested on the sandy beach, flopping down into armchairs. Wojtek and I swam, though not too long because of the strong riptide. Then we went into a large cave with thousands of tiny stalactites and stalagmites. I had never been in such a cave before- it was so charming! Then we found dinner and headed home to Ankara. Our bus left Alanya at 7pm Sunday night- I got home at 7am Monday. I'm now at work. Though I am sleepy and starting to get sick, it was well-worth the snoring men, screaming babies, creepy bus attendants, and vertical sleeping!
2 Mart 2010 Salı
10 Hours in Istanbul
[Thought I published this weeks ago...]
I had the great opportunity to visit Emily in Egypt last week. First, however, I had to travel to Istanbul, the city of 12 million that seamlessly straddles East and West...
Just past midnight on Friday the 19th, I heaved my duffle bag into the storage compartment underneath the bus and settled into my seat. It had been a long day of teaching, football with the students, and last-minute preparations. I was admittedly nervous taking the six and a half bus ride: firstly, no one else has taken the bus anywhere, so I was the travel guinea pig. Secondly, I knew the bus ride would last between four and seven hours: the difference between arriving in Istanbul two hours before dawn or just after sunrise. On the plus side, I was ready to explore Istanbul until 4pm, when I planned on finding the airport for my 7:30 flight. With my LonelyPlanet travel guide at the ready, I took out my contacts and prepared to get some sleep.
Unfortunately, as soon as I'd settled into my seat, I lost my second contact. And my solution was out of reach, in the duffle bag beneath the bus.
I froze. For five anxious minutes, I searched my body looking for my contact. I was too timid to move my right arm, lest I should nudge the wayward lens off my person and onto the black abyss of the bus floor.
Thankfully, I found it, stuck in an unlikely fold of my coat. Relieved, I screwed the cap onto my lenses. I popped in my earplugs and nodded off to sleep.
At around 5am, we made a stop. I didn't know where we were. The 'station' didn't look like the massive Buyuk Otogar I was expecting; in fact, it was just a few small depots in a massive parking lot. Still, several people were getting off. But not everyone. So, I took a leap of faith and assumed this wasn't my stop (though I had no idea there would be any stops). As we pulled away from the dark bus depot, I prepared to be dropped off anywhere at any time. There was still another two hours until daylight.
Around 6am we crossed the Bosphorous Bridge, a beautifully lit span crossing the dark water of the Bosphorus Strait. I knew then that I was in Europe, headed toward Buyuk Otogar.
When the bus finally pulled into the massive, labyrinthine complex, I felt relieved. The pervasive clouds glowed grey in the predawn light, and the weather was warm. I found the Metro station at the Otogar, and headed in the direction of Ataturk airport, the last stop. Navigation through the transportation system is easy, as all the signs and stop announcements are in English. I checked in my duffle bag at the airport, and then headed back towards Istanbul, going to the opposite end of the Metro.
I put in my contacts and ate a pre-packed sandwich for breakfast. I was feeling pretty good about myself, having gotten past the only part of my trip likely to give me trouble. I was now on my own to explore Istanbul with the help of my Lonely Planet....
... I rummaged through my carry-on-- my guidebook was nowhere to be found: I'd left it in my checked baggage! At this point, I resorted to the only thing I knew about Istanbul: the general geography and the fact that there are lots of mosques. And one of those mosques is called the Hagia Sofia. Though I didn't know what it looks like. But it must be big and well-marked!
I got off at the last stop of the Metro, completely unsure about where I was or if this was even a good place to depart. Then I started walking. I knew I should head east, towards the water, and determine my position from there if I got really lost. Only thing was, the overcast sky blocked out the morning sun, so I couldn't find east. I walked down a long bulvari aimlessly. For all you Bostonians, imagine being dropped off on the Roxbury part of Washington Street and told to find downtown. So I walked.
And walked.
And walked.
Until I found an old stone wall. It was huge! I guessed (I found out later, correctly), based on the sheer size of the wall (at least 40ft/10m high and 15 feet/5m thick), that it was the old perimeter wall of Istanbul. I followed it for a couple clicks, until I reached an area that wasn't so broken down that I couldn't climb it (this being Turkey, there is no attempt to preserve the wall that I can discern, nor any marker indicating the history of the wall). At the top of the wall (which featured a staircase that was closer to a ladder), I figured out my position. The wall was running to the east, toward the Bosphorous; to the southeast I spotted a large hill crowned by a large mosque. The Hagia Sofia! I thought, and plotted my course in that general direction.
Thus began a succession of "false-summits" to the Hagia Sofia: at each mosque-crowned hilltop I ascended, I learned it was not the Hagia Sofia, but I did spy another large, ornate mosque to the southeast. This happened three times. Along the way I past an ancient aqueduct. At the final mosque, I crossed through the plaza, after a failed attempt at entering Istanbul University's campus, and saw a teeming marketplace. I decided to walk to it, since things had become more and more crowded and touristy over the past few hours (it was now almost 11 am-- I had been seriously lost for a good two hours before feeling I was on the right track). Walking through a labyrinth of shops and ignoring the superficial friendliness of Turkish shopkeepers catering to tourists, I realized I was in Istanbul's Grand Bazaar. It is much like any other overcrowded tourist market, so I didn't stray there too long (I did appreciate the architecture though: it seems as if the Bazaar was an old neighborhood with a ceiling over it).
Finally, I reached the large tourist section of Istanbul. I was on the southeastern 'peninsula' of west Istanbul, as I learned from a map. The Hagia Sofia and Blue Mosque were obvious landmarks: their size surpassed any of the previous mega-mosques I had passed. However, there was such a long line for each, I didn't feel like going in. I decided to save touring these sites for when I came to Istanbul with the other Americans. Plus, given the scale of the megapolis, I did not want to tarry too long in a place I would no doubt return. I passed through the well-groomed gardens of the teeming plazas, down the San Fransisco slopes of this edge of Istanbul, wound through the ancient streets, and came out to the vast Sea of Marmara. I sat down and had lunch, resting for the first time since 8am. I stayed there for a long time, appreciating the first body of seawater I'd seen since leaving for Turkey.
I continued walking along the seawall, until I stumbled upon a tea garden that overlooked the intersection of the Golden Horn, the Bosphorous, and the Sea of Marmara. This garden was beautiful and peaceful; I could only imagine it in full bloom. I strolled leisurely throughout the winding lanes, very much lost in the idyllic garden. Eventually I wandered out of the garden and back to Sultanhamet (as I later learned the name of the big touristy plaza), completing a big loop that took about an hour. I decided to find a museum; I ended up at the Museum of Turkish and Arabic Art, which features the world's largest collection of carpets. The ornate carpets didn't exactly capture my imagination, though I had never before really appreciated the skill required to consturct these several-meters-wide-by-several-meters-tall pieces. The museum took about an hour, during which a group of Turkish kids and their parents toured near me: all the kids ran around with their cellphones snapping shots of every last curio in every collection in the museum. I'm not sure they directly looked at any of the exhibits; merely, their view of the museum will be perpetually through a digital lens. More proof that Turkey is a very modern place, and like all modern places with cheap technology, kids have successfully guilt-tripped their parents into buying cellphones. Like so many other places in Istanbul, the building served as a museum only recently- before that it was an office of the government, before that a prison, and before that a gift from some Sultan Sometingorutter to his loyal courtier Wassisname. Istanbul's many old buildings remind me of hermit crab shells- perpetually recycled until they eventually wear out and melt back into the cityscape, their foundations forming the foundations of new constructions.
After the museum I briefly toured the Blue Mosque. The religious aesthetic present in the other mosques I'd seen that day was shattered by the light of many shutters; multilingual tourists broke the atmosphere of worship through discussion, photoshoots, and sighing. One little kid was sprawled out on the ground and rolling around in bored agony, tugging the leg of his father, who was distracted capturing the perfect picture of the massive glass chandelier suspended from the Blue Mosque's huge central dome. Still, the Mosque is a magnificent work of architecture. I highly recommend it (but try and get off the beaten path and view some more 'authentic' mosques).
After the Blue Mosque I walked around for awhile, got lost for another hour, ate my last sandwich, and eventually made my way onto the Metro to go back to the airport. I was about three hours early for my flight, but that was okay-- I spent the next four hours documenting my awesome day in my journal, over a cup of overpriced coffee from one 'Gloria Jean's Coffee' and a package of Tutku cookies. It was an awesome day, and I really looked forward to seeing Istanbul again. I would later learn I hadn't even begun to start scratching the surface...
I had the great opportunity to visit Emily in Egypt last week. First, however, I had to travel to Istanbul, the city of 12 million that seamlessly straddles East and West...
Just past midnight on Friday the 19th, I heaved my duffle bag into the storage compartment underneath the bus and settled into my seat. It had been a long day of teaching, football with the students, and last-minute preparations. I was admittedly nervous taking the six and a half bus ride: firstly, no one else has taken the bus anywhere, so I was the travel guinea pig. Secondly, I knew the bus ride would last between four and seven hours: the difference between arriving in Istanbul two hours before dawn or just after sunrise. On the plus side, I was ready to explore Istanbul until 4pm, when I planned on finding the airport for my 7:30 flight. With my LonelyPlanet travel guide at the ready, I took out my contacts and prepared to get some sleep.
Unfortunately, as soon as I'd settled into my seat, I lost my second contact. And my solution was out of reach, in the duffle bag beneath the bus.
I froze. For five anxious minutes, I searched my body looking for my contact. I was too timid to move my right arm, lest I should nudge the wayward lens off my person and onto the black abyss of the bus floor.
Thankfully, I found it, stuck in an unlikely fold of my coat. Relieved, I screwed the cap onto my lenses. I popped in my earplugs and nodded off to sleep.
At around 5am, we made a stop. I didn't know where we were. The 'station' didn't look like the massive Buyuk Otogar I was expecting; in fact, it was just a few small depots in a massive parking lot. Still, several people were getting off. But not everyone. So, I took a leap of faith and assumed this wasn't my stop (though I had no idea there would be any stops). As we pulled away from the dark bus depot, I prepared to be dropped off anywhere at any time. There was still another two hours until daylight.
Around 6am we crossed the Bosphorous Bridge, a beautifully lit span crossing the dark water of the Bosphorus Strait. I knew then that I was in Europe, headed toward Buyuk Otogar.
When the bus finally pulled into the massive, labyrinthine complex, I felt relieved. The pervasive clouds glowed grey in the predawn light, and the weather was warm. I found the Metro station at the Otogar, and headed in the direction of Ataturk airport, the last stop. Navigation through the transportation system is easy, as all the signs and stop announcements are in English. I checked in my duffle bag at the airport, and then headed back towards Istanbul, going to the opposite end of the Metro.
I put in my contacts and ate a pre-packed sandwich for breakfast. I was feeling pretty good about myself, having gotten past the only part of my trip likely to give me trouble. I was now on my own to explore Istanbul with the help of my Lonely Planet....
... I rummaged through my carry-on-- my guidebook was nowhere to be found: I'd left it in my checked baggage! At this point, I resorted to the only thing I knew about Istanbul: the general geography and the fact that there are lots of mosques. And one of those mosques is called the Hagia Sofia. Though I didn't know what it looks like. But it must be big and well-marked!
I got off at the last stop of the Metro, completely unsure about where I was or if this was even a good place to depart. Then I started walking. I knew I should head east, towards the water, and determine my position from there if I got really lost. Only thing was, the overcast sky blocked out the morning sun, so I couldn't find east. I walked down a long bulvari aimlessly. For all you Bostonians, imagine being dropped off on the Roxbury part of Washington Street and told to find downtown. So I walked.
And walked.
And walked.
Until I found an old stone wall. It was huge! I guessed (I found out later, correctly), based on the sheer size of the wall (at least 40ft/10m high and 15 feet/5m thick), that it was the old perimeter wall of Istanbul. I followed it for a couple clicks, until I reached an area that wasn't so broken down that I couldn't climb it (this being Turkey, there is no attempt to preserve the wall that I can discern, nor any marker indicating the history of the wall). At the top of the wall (which featured a staircase that was closer to a ladder), I figured out my position. The wall was running to the east, toward the Bosphorous; to the southeast I spotted a large hill crowned by a large mosque. The Hagia Sofia! I thought, and plotted my course in that general direction.
Thus began a succession of "false-summits" to the Hagia Sofia: at each mosque-crowned hilltop I ascended, I learned it was not the Hagia Sofia, but I did spy another large, ornate mosque to the southeast. This happened three times. Along the way I past an ancient aqueduct. At the final mosque, I crossed through the plaza, after a failed attempt at entering Istanbul University's campus, and saw a teeming marketplace. I decided to walk to it, since things had become more and more crowded and touristy over the past few hours (it was now almost 11 am-- I had been seriously lost for a good two hours before feeling I was on the right track). Walking through a labyrinth of shops and ignoring the superficial friendliness of Turkish shopkeepers catering to tourists, I realized I was in Istanbul's Grand Bazaar. It is much like any other overcrowded tourist market, so I didn't stray there too long (I did appreciate the architecture though: it seems as if the Bazaar was an old neighborhood with a ceiling over it).
Finally, I reached the large tourist section of Istanbul. I was on the southeastern 'peninsula' of west Istanbul, as I learned from a map. The Hagia Sofia and Blue Mosque were obvious landmarks: their size surpassed any of the previous mega-mosques I had passed. However, there was such a long line for each, I didn't feel like going in. I decided to save touring these sites for when I came to Istanbul with the other Americans. Plus, given the scale of the megapolis, I did not want to tarry too long in a place I would no doubt return. I passed through the well-groomed gardens of the teeming plazas, down the San Fransisco slopes of this edge of Istanbul, wound through the ancient streets, and came out to the vast Sea of Marmara. I sat down and had lunch, resting for the first time since 8am. I stayed there for a long time, appreciating the first body of seawater I'd seen since leaving for Turkey.
I continued walking along the seawall, until I stumbled upon a tea garden that overlooked the intersection of the Golden Horn, the Bosphorous, and the Sea of Marmara. This garden was beautiful and peaceful; I could only imagine it in full bloom. I strolled leisurely throughout the winding lanes, very much lost in the idyllic garden. Eventually I wandered out of the garden and back to Sultanhamet (as I later learned the name of the big touristy plaza), completing a big loop that took about an hour. I decided to find a museum; I ended up at the Museum of Turkish and Arabic Art, which features the world's largest collection of carpets. The ornate carpets didn't exactly capture my imagination, though I had never before really appreciated the skill required to consturct these several-meters-wide-by-several-meters-tall pieces. The museum took about an hour, during which a group of Turkish kids and their parents toured near me: all the kids ran around with their cellphones snapping shots of every last curio in every collection in the museum. I'm not sure they directly looked at any of the exhibits; merely, their view of the museum will be perpetually through a digital lens. More proof that Turkey is a very modern place, and like all modern places with cheap technology, kids have successfully guilt-tripped their parents into buying cellphones. Like so many other places in Istanbul, the building served as a museum only recently- before that it was an office of the government, before that a prison, and before that a gift from some Sultan Sometingorutter to his loyal courtier Wassisname. Istanbul's many old buildings remind me of hermit crab shells- perpetually recycled until they eventually wear out and melt back into the cityscape, their foundations forming the foundations of new constructions.
After the museum I briefly toured the Blue Mosque. The religious aesthetic present in the other mosques I'd seen that day was shattered by the light of many shutters; multilingual tourists broke the atmosphere of worship through discussion, photoshoots, and sighing. One little kid was sprawled out on the ground and rolling around in bored agony, tugging the leg of his father, who was distracted capturing the perfect picture of the massive glass chandelier suspended from the Blue Mosque's huge central dome. Still, the Mosque is a magnificent work of architecture. I highly recommend it (but try and get off the beaten path and view some more 'authentic' mosques).
After the Blue Mosque I walked around for awhile, got lost for another hour, ate my last sandwich, and eventually made my way onto the Metro to go back to the airport. I was about three hours early for my flight, but that was okay-- I spent the next four hours documenting my awesome day in my journal, over a cup of overpriced coffee from one 'Gloria Jean's Coffee' and a package of Tutku cookies. It was an awesome day, and I really looked forward to seeing Istanbul again. I would later learn I hadn't even begun to start scratching the surface...
15 Şubat 2010 Pazartesi
Green, Silver, and Yellow
I have officially been in Ankara for over a month now; I have a little less than five more months in Turkey.
I have settled into the duties of the co-op. Teaching the classes is very enjoyable; I learn something new every time I teach. Also, since the classes are all different, I must be adaptable and accommodating on the spot. I’ve also created a couple new jobs for myself. First, I have begun designing an English-language newsletter. I summarize five or six stories from the news and rewrite them in simple English. Second, I’ve started a homework club. The idea is to provide a space where students can study their homework and ask for help if they need. Third, we play some English boardgames, like Scrabble, with the students during free-time. Finally, I am trying to organize a charitable activity for student volunteers to do every week. Aysenur, from the External Relations Department, has already agreed to help me in this effort. I want to create a survey to ask students if they would volunteer once a week or twice a month. I will tell them that, typically, employers in the United States like to see community service on a résumé; hopefully this will pique their interests, since TOBB is a very demanding university and they are already overburdened with classes and homework. Teaching, new duties, and our access to free meals from our meal tickets has really made TOBB quite fun.
We have also been traveling and meeting new people. Two Sundays ago, we traveled with the Poles, the Erasmus club, and the External Relations Department (you know, the usual crowd) on a bus for three hours to Lake Abant, northwest of Ankara. First of all, I just want to say that the Anatolian landscape and climate are nothing like I had imagined. Not only have I had to scratch balmy, sunny weather from my understanding of Turkey, I’ve had to add New Hampshire-esque mountains. Lake Abant is in a mountainous region, with pine forests protruding from a snowy icing. It is surrounded on all sides by low mountains. The frozen Lake was okay; I believe it could have used some aesthetic recreational development, such as clear walking paths, hiking trails, and some pollution control. My friend Hakan and I did go on a hike though; while the others strolled around the two mile perimeter of the Lake, we trudged up a road that wound over a hill and out of the valley. The walk was scenic and peaceful; it was nice to be out of busy, smoky Ankara. At the crest of the road, we gazed into the adjacent valley; the sun was streaming in golden rays through the clouds and illuminating the rolling landscape. It was very picturesque. Hakan and I headed off the main road and tried for the summit; we found an unmarked footpath that ribboned along a ridge, giving us a perfect view of the lake. Then we found a really cool old tree with holes in the trunk that you could stick your head into and look out the other side. We returned to the road after an hour and hitched a ride down the mountain on a school bus full of Istanbul schoolkids and their parents who had just finished sledding for the day. The driver, I think, was a roller coaster operator once because he pushed the bus down the mountain at uncomfortable speeds. We made it back to our bus in time though.
This past weekend, I went to Beypazarı (a small note: the “i” without the dot is a Turkish character; it is pronounced like the “e” in French, or, phonetically, like “uh”). The town is known for its silver, carrot juice, and baklava. Let me tell you, the baklava was delicious! And the carrot juice wasn’t too bad either, though it was only carrots ground up into liquid. Though fun, this trip was more mundane than the Abant adventure, though it did show yet another side of Turkey. The village is incredibly old (it was on the Silk Road) and has the quintessential narrow, cobblestoned streets and architecture of an old town. Here again though, like in Ankara Castle, the houses farther from the center were old, decrepit, had collapsed roofs, and clearly belonged to the impoverished. During the ride to Beypazarı, we passed many houses in shambles, despite the clear modernity of the road we were traveling on. This just further demonstrates the uniqueness of Ankara from the rest of Turkey, as well as highlights the appeal of urban centers to the rural poor.
This past weekend, we met several international students and young interns, like ourselves. On Friday we made traditional Dutch pancakes with a group of Turkish-Dutch (TurDutchen, as I refer to them) interns working in various social service and political fields in Ankara. We also got to meet a fellow American (Dwayne Warren Nelson); it was nice to speak easily with a countryman. Then on Saturday, we went to an Erasmus party, which hosted students and interns from no less than nine different countries, all speaking with varying degrees of proficiency in English.
I do have two pieces of good news: next weekend, I am going to visit Emily in sandy Cairo, Egypt for a week. Secondly, I just learned that I am going to Ghana for the month of July to do a Northeastern study-abroad program called “Dialogue of Civilizations” in order to study globalization in a developing, post-colonial country. This is going to be quite the summer!
P.S.-- all my photos are available on Facebook, with inspired titles such as Turkey1, Turkey2, Turkey3, and Turkey4.
I have settled into the duties of the co-op. Teaching the classes is very enjoyable; I learn something new every time I teach. Also, since the classes are all different, I must be adaptable and accommodating on the spot. I’ve also created a couple new jobs for myself. First, I have begun designing an English-language newsletter. I summarize five or six stories from the news and rewrite them in simple English. Second, I’ve started a homework club. The idea is to provide a space where students can study their homework and ask for help if they need. Third, we play some English boardgames, like Scrabble, with the students during free-time. Finally, I am trying to organize a charitable activity for student volunteers to do every week. Aysenur, from the External Relations Department, has already agreed to help me in this effort. I want to create a survey to ask students if they would volunteer once a week or twice a month. I will tell them that, typically, employers in the United States like to see community service on a résumé; hopefully this will pique their interests, since TOBB is a very demanding university and they are already overburdened with classes and homework. Teaching, new duties, and our access to free meals from our meal tickets has really made TOBB quite fun.
We have also been traveling and meeting new people. Two Sundays ago, we traveled with the Poles, the Erasmus club, and the External Relations Department (you know, the usual crowd) on a bus for three hours to Lake Abant, northwest of Ankara. First of all, I just want to say that the Anatolian landscape and climate are nothing like I had imagined. Not only have I had to scratch balmy, sunny weather from my understanding of Turkey, I’ve had to add New Hampshire-esque mountains. Lake Abant is in a mountainous region, with pine forests protruding from a snowy icing. It is surrounded on all sides by low mountains. The frozen Lake was okay; I believe it could have used some aesthetic recreational development, such as clear walking paths, hiking trails, and some pollution control. My friend Hakan and I did go on a hike though; while the others strolled around the two mile perimeter of the Lake, we trudged up a road that wound over a hill and out of the valley. The walk was scenic and peaceful; it was nice to be out of busy, smoky Ankara. At the crest of the road, we gazed into the adjacent valley; the sun was streaming in golden rays through the clouds and illuminating the rolling landscape. It was very picturesque. Hakan and I headed off the main road and tried for the summit; we found an unmarked footpath that ribboned along a ridge, giving us a perfect view of the lake. Then we found a really cool old tree with holes in the trunk that you could stick your head into and look out the other side. We returned to the road after an hour and hitched a ride down the mountain on a school bus full of Istanbul schoolkids and their parents who had just finished sledding for the day. The driver, I think, was a roller coaster operator once because he pushed the bus down the mountain at uncomfortable speeds. We made it back to our bus in time though.
This past weekend, I went to Beypazarı (a small note: the “i” without the dot is a Turkish character; it is pronounced like the “e” in French, or, phonetically, like “uh”). The town is known for its silver, carrot juice, and baklava. Let me tell you, the baklava was delicious! And the carrot juice wasn’t too bad either, though it was only carrots ground up into liquid. Though fun, this trip was more mundane than the Abant adventure, though it did show yet another side of Turkey. The village is incredibly old (it was on the Silk Road) and has the quintessential narrow, cobblestoned streets and architecture of an old town. Here again though, like in Ankara Castle, the houses farther from the center were old, decrepit, had collapsed roofs, and clearly belonged to the impoverished. During the ride to Beypazarı, we passed many houses in shambles, despite the clear modernity of the road we were traveling on. This just further demonstrates the uniqueness of Ankara from the rest of Turkey, as well as highlights the appeal of urban centers to the rural poor.
This past weekend, we met several international students and young interns, like ourselves. On Friday we made traditional Dutch pancakes with a group of Turkish-Dutch (TurDutchen, as I refer to them) interns working in various social service and political fields in Ankara. We also got to meet a fellow American (Dwayne Warren Nelson); it was nice to speak easily with a countryman. Then on Saturday, we went to an Erasmus party, which hosted students and interns from no less than nine different countries, all speaking with varying degrees of proficiency in English.
I do have two pieces of good news: next weekend, I am going to visit Emily in sandy Cairo, Egypt for a week. Secondly, I just learned that I am going to Ghana for the month of July to do a Northeastern study-abroad program called “Dialogue of Civilizations” in order to study globalization in a developing, post-colonial country. This is going to be quite the summer!
P.S.-- all my photos are available on Facebook, with inspired titles such as Turkey1, Turkey2, Turkey3, and Turkey4.
25 Ocak 2010 Pazartesi
Ankara: Sites and Sounds
TOBB and our apartment are on what we believe to be the outskirts of Ankara. Travel into Kizilay, the new downtown area, requires taksi, bus or metro; Ankara isn't a walking city like Boston. Therefore, our travel into the city has been mostly limited to specific places with Turkish guides.
The first week, we travled alone into Kizilay. Despite offering the bus driver money, he just let us on. 'Wow, everyone in Turkey is so sympathetic to us poor, lost Americans!' we thought as the bus drove into Kizilay. We would later discover that the reason they wouldn't take our money is because the bus requires a bus pass, and since the driver couldn't communicate this to us, he just let us on.
Kizilay is a buzzing shopping area: very modern, like everything in Ankara, and lacking in that olden charm that European cities have. We explored for awhile but didn't find anything too notable (though we did wander onto government property and had to be signaled off the grounds by a soldier in camouflage). We took the Metro back to ASTI after the bus route stymied our comprehension.
Later that week, when Zach and Will arrived, we ventured into Kizilay again, and discovered Kotacepe Camii (Ko-ta-je-peh), a giant mosque in the center of Ankara (there are photos on my Facebook of this excursion).
The next Friday, we were taken out by TOBB's External Relations Department for a mixer with some Turkish and Polish students. Goksel (Gerk-cell -- or Jerkcell or Turkcell, as we joke in private) works for the ERD and arranged the outing. We met three Polish students who are studying at TOBB through the European study abroad program Erasmus. Interestingly, their educational experience at TOBB is entirely in English, the global lingua franca, so spending time with native speakers is actually helpful for them. The Turkish students with us were either from the ERD or from TOBB's Erasmus club. Though the outing was a little hampered by the loud music at the restaurant, the experience was very enjoyable, and we got to know the students quite well. After dinner, we jammed to techno and bowled at an underground alley. Names you will hear again from this excursion are Goksel; Wojtek, Asia, and Kasha (Voy-tek, Asha-- the three Polish students); Harkan (the Turkish TOBB student who is living in a flat with the Polish girls); Aysenur (ash-ih-nur-- from the ERD); Mustafa and Meli (the 'l' is soft-- they are from the Erasmus club I).
The next night we went to Tunali (Tuna- leh), the college hangout district, with two Turks we met randomly one night, Mert and Yeet (they showed up at our apartment looking for past natives). Mert had just finished compulsory service in the military; I'm not really sure what Yeet is doing because he doesn't speak English well.
That Sunday, in a trip arranged by the ERD, we saw Ankara's historic sites. First, we toured Anitkabir, Ataturk's giant mausoleum and Peace Park perched prominently on one of Ankara's many hills. Anitkabir is beautiful: the stones originated from all corners of Turkey; the Peace Park includes native Turkish trees and trees from other countries (to symbolize international unity); several architectural styles reflect the influence of varied Anatolian civilizations; a stunning World War I and War of Independence museum lies beneath the mauseleum. The soldiers at Anitkabir stand statue-still: it was a while before we realized they were not statues, in fact. The entire mausoleum is a testament to Ataturk's accomplishments and lasting legacy.
It is amazing how much sway this leader still has over the Turkish people; I have never heard reference to any other politician.
Later, we ate traditional Turkish kebap in a small restaurant in Ulus, the old part of Ankara. I have one word for this experience: tasty.
After kebap, we climbed up to the top of Ulus to explore Ankara castle, or the Citadel. This was the highlight of my Turkish experience so far. So much could be said from the half hour we spent there. I will try to be brief. The castle was constructed by the Roman Empire, around the Common Era. However, it is surrounded by slums and lacks any sort of protection from tourists or city-dwellers; one can just walk right up into it. The lack of any efforts to prerserve this beautiful landmark, along with the squalid conditions of its environs (houses with collapsed roofs, waste-water in the streets, intense poverty very evident), illumintate an interesting part of Turkish reality. In Turkey, there are so many historic sites that it is impossible for the government to take care of them all. Therefore, though there is some restoration, the process is excruciatingly slow.
The inside of the castle was awesome; I was brought back to my days in Ireland, just hanging out in an abandoned abbey from the 16th century. The castle has a superb, panoramic view of Ankara. For the first time, we had an idea of Ankara's layout. We could see Ankara's progress: the high-rise apartments, the parks, and the wide bulvaris full of traffic; as well as its past: the decayed slum-houses being demolished at the foot of those high-rises, the rolling Anatolian landscape not quite eclipsed by urbanization, and the densely-packed impoverished dwellings of Ulus. Furthermore, there were signs of globalization and its integration into the Turkish identity everywhere: there were satellite dishes sticking out of almost all of the slum houses, a Quonset hut, and ferris wheels. From the top of the Ankara castle, I was looking out over this sprawling city with a history that is at once 2,000 years old and only 80 years old, when the Call to Prayer started up from minarets around the city. The music swirled around the city, echoing off the hills and plummeting down into the valleys and mixing with the different tones of other mosques. It was as though I was standing at the focus of a giant speaker, with the pulse of the Call concentrated on me. It was a stunning moment, where I could really hear, see, smell, feel--experience-- the elements of Turkey that have intrigued visitors for millenia.
To top it off, there were about a dozen Japanese tourists singing and dancing to happy guitar tunes. Their voices echoed just as the Call did; their music blended with the traditional music. There was only one option for us: we jumped in and sang and danced with them at the top of Ankara's capitol.
That Sunday was a great day.
Then on Tuesday, we went with the group from ERD and belted out ballads from the '90s at Karaoke. That was fun too!
The first week, we travled alone into Kizilay. Despite offering the bus driver money, he just let us on. 'Wow, everyone in Turkey is so sympathetic to us poor, lost Americans!' we thought as the bus drove into Kizilay. We would later discover that the reason they wouldn't take our money is because the bus requires a bus pass, and since the driver couldn't communicate this to us, he just let us on.
Kizilay is a buzzing shopping area: very modern, like everything in Ankara, and lacking in that olden charm that European cities have. We explored for awhile but didn't find anything too notable (though we did wander onto government property and had to be signaled off the grounds by a soldier in camouflage). We took the Metro back to ASTI after the bus route stymied our comprehension.
Later that week, when Zach and Will arrived, we ventured into Kizilay again, and discovered Kotacepe Camii (Ko-ta-je-peh), a giant mosque in the center of Ankara (there are photos on my Facebook of this excursion).
The next Friday, we were taken out by TOBB's External Relations Department for a mixer with some Turkish and Polish students. Goksel (Gerk-cell -- or Jerkcell or Turkcell, as we joke in private) works for the ERD and arranged the outing. We met three Polish students who are studying at TOBB through the European study abroad program Erasmus. Interestingly, their educational experience at TOBB is entirely in English, the global lingua franca, so spending time with native speakers is actually helpful for them. The Turkish students with us were either from the ERD or from TOBB's Erasmus club. Though the outing was a little hampered by the loud music at the restaurant, the experience was very enjoyable, and we got to know the students quite well. After dinner, we jammed to techno and bowled at an underground alley. Names you will hear again from this excursion are Goksel; Wojtek, Asia, and Kasha (Voy-tek, Asha-- the three Polish students); Harkan (the Turkish TOBB student who is living in a flat with the Polish girls); Aysenur (ash-ih-nur-- from the ERD); Mustafa and Meli (the 'l' is soft-- they are from the Erasmus club I).
The next night we went to Tunali (Tuna- leh), the college hangout district, with two Turks we met randomly one night, Mert and Yeet (they showed up at our apartment looking for past natives). Mert had just finished compulsory service in the military; I'm not really sure what Yeet is doing because he doesn't speak English well.
That Sunday, in a trip arranged by the ERD, we saw Ankara's historic sites. First, we toured Anitkabir, Ataturk's giant mausoleum and Peace Park perched prominently on one of Ankara's many hills. Anitkabir is beautiful: the stones originated from all corners of Turkey; the Peace Park includes native Turkish trees and trees from other countries (to symbolize international unity); several architectural styles reflect the influence of varied Anatolian civilizations; a stunning World War I and War of Independence museum lies beneath the mauseleum. The soldiers at Anitkabir stand statue-still: it was a while before we realized they were not statues, in fact. The entire mausoleum is a testament to Ataturk's accomplishments and lasting legacy.
It is amazing how much sway this leader still has over the Turkish people; I have never heard reference to any other politician.
Later, we ate traditional Turkish kebap in a small restaurant in Ulus, the old part of Ankara. I have one word for this experience: tasty.
After kebap, we climbed up to the top of Ulus to explore Ankara castle, or the Citadel. This was the highlight of my Turkish experience so far. So much could be said from the half hour we spent there. I will try to be brief. The castle was constructed by the Roman Empire, around the Common Era. However, it is surrounded by slums and lacks any sort of protection from tourists or city-dwellers; one can just walk right up into it. The lack of any efforts to prerserve this beautiful landmark, along with the squalid conditions of its environs (houses with collapsed roofs, waste-water in the streets, intense poverty very evident), illumintate an interesting part of Turkish reality. In Turkey, there are so many historic sites that it is impossible for the government to take care of them all. Therefore, though there is some restoration, the process is excruciatingly slow.
The inside of the castle was awesome; I was brought back to my days in Ireland, just hanging out in an abandoned abbey from the 16th century. The castle has a superb, panoramic view of Ankara. For the first time, we had an idea of Ankara's layout. We could see Ankara's progress: the high-rise apartments, the parks, and the wide bulvaris full of traffic; as well as its past: the decayed slum-houses being demolished at the foot of those high-rises, the rolling Anatolian landscape not quite eclipsed by urbanization, and the densely-packed impoverished dwellings of Ulus. Furthermore, there were signs of globalization and its integration into the Turkish identity everywhere: there were satellite dishes sticking out of almost all of the slum houses, a Quonset hut, and ferris wheels. From the top of the Ankara castle, I was looking out over this sprawling city with a history that is at once 2,000 years old and only 80 years old, when the Call to Prayer started up from minarets around the city. The music swirled around the city, echoing off the hills and plummeting down into the valleys and mixing with the different tones of other mosques. It was as though I was standing at the focus of a giant speaker, with the pulse of the Call concentrated on me. It was a stunning moment, where I could really hear, see, smell, feel--experience-- the elements of Turkey that have intrigued visitors for millenia.
To top it off, there were about a dozen Japanese tourists singing and dancing to happy guitar tunes. Their voices echoed just as the Call did; their music blended with the traditional music. There was only one option for us: we jumped in and sang and danced with them at the top of Ankara's capitol.
That Sunday was a great day.
Then on Tuesday, we went with the group from ERD and belted out ballads from the '90s at Karaoke. That was fun too!
19 Ocak 2010 Salı
TOBB: The First Week in Review
As of last Monday, I began working as an English "Native" at TOBB University. The morning got off to a rocky start: Zack and Will thought I had woken up and gone upstairs to the girls' apartment in order to take a shower (our apartment still had no electricity, so it was impossible to use the bathroom safely), so they had forgotten to wake me up. I rushed to get dressed, and in the end it was, fortunately, a non-issue.
We arrived at TOBB "dressed to the nines" (as Annie likes to say) for our first day. Semihbay, the director of the Foreign Language Department, introduced us to Inci (In-jay), our academic coordinator and scheduler. Inci took us upstairs to the teachers' wing of TOBB, where we got to choose offices. I am incredibly fortunate: my office has the four most sociable, brilliant teachers in this University (and I'm not even counting myself!). For most of them, TOBB is a temporary job while they work on their Masters in English Literature: TOBB, despite its demanding schedule, affords some downtime for the hardworking teachers to study (frequently, I will see them studying thick pamphlets of philosophy, highlighting and rereading obstruse, heady passages). Teachers arrive around 8 am and leave no earlier than 6pm. This long work week is softened somewhat by a "half day" once a week--half days are from 8 until 3:30, when the last classes finish. I will write more about my new "colleagues" in later posts; they have helped me out alot in my integration with TOBB, Ankara, and Turkish culture.
The first day ended as a disappoint. Once we were in our office, we were given free time-- until 6pm. At first it was nice to have unabridged Internet access for the first time since arriving in Turkey. It quickly became dull, however, as we were told we really had no responsibilities for the day and could do whatever we wanted. Imagining six more months of such a cushy co-op disheartened me, and I ended the day in foul spirits.
The second day, I vowed to use my time productively: if I was going to have nine hours every day of freetime, I would put myself to work. I organized a schedule that includes reading, journaling, communicating, and researching. Before I took the TOBB co-op, I was informed about the downtime; I decided then that I would try and conduct some type of research in my free time here. Serendipitously, my NEU co-op advisor told me about a Middle East Studies Department research grant available for students living in the Middle East. So, last week, with the informal supervision of my Anthropology professor at NEU, I began writing a proposal for the research grant. Any ill-will I had towards my free time disappeared as I set to work on the proposal. I researched Turkey and Turkish culture to try and get an idea of the topic. One thing that emerged immediately in any discussion of Turkey is their recent economic ascendancy; therefore, I decided to examine the aspects of Turkish environmentalism. Particularly, I want to discover the responses to environmental degradation as a result of the economic growth (for example, the Turkish response to increased water pollution due to increased traffic in the Bospohoros, or protests against mining). Indeed, Turkey does have several environmental problems that are readily identified by even the students here, such as water, air, and sound pollution. I spent most of last week preparing the grant proposal; I submitted it Friday with the approval of my professor and am awaiting a response (more on the research later).
Once we had a staff meeting on Tuesday, our responsibilities became much clearer, and it was evident that Monday's freetime was not indicative of the rest of the semester. Indeed, when I wasn't researching and writing, the other Natives and I were introducing ourselves to the Turkish students. I have been very busy talking with students: we discuss American and Turkish culture, talk politics, and, of course, debate football (soccer). So far, I have not been able to mention that I play soccer without the immediate follow-up question of, "Who is your favorite team?" They mean Turkish teams, and I essentially have three choices: Fenerbache, Beshitash, and Galatasaray, the biggest teams in Turkey, all based in Istanbul (note that these are almost certainly NOT the correct spellings haha). I have yet to actually WATCH a Turkish game however-- to them this shouldn't prevent me from choosing a favorite team.
The students are incredibly friendly: most conversations start out with "Where are you from?" and end up diverging in every direction. Many of them speak slowly and haltingly; however, they are not deterred by their speed and take time to practice the language. They are enthusiastic to communicate with us. For example, a student named Habib sat with us for over an hour: it seemed as though he had only taken a month or two of English. Every sentence was a struggle-- it wasn't so much of a conversation as an exercise in patience. However, Habib is a prime example of the Turks' refreshing approach to language: their perservance differs from my experience in the United States with language education (more on this later). Despite the misunderstandings, dropped topics, and failed attempts to make a joke, talking with the students is fun and educational ("fun-ducational" as I told the teachers in my office): they are very curious and want to learn; we are curious and want to learn, so the relationship works out despite the frequent language difficulties.
I taught my first two classes yesterday: it was extremely gratifying. I have occasionally toyed with the idea of teaching; yesterday confirmed that I may one day seek to pursue teaching further. There are 3-5 50min. conversation classes per week. The students were all very good, and there were few problems. I enjoyed speaking with them, and they liked asking me questions about where I was from. For the most part, everyone in both my classes contributed to the conversations at different points. Students even seemed to have a good time when we (they) were debating football teams. In one class, there was a bit of a bump: one of the best speakers asked me if I thought the Obama administration would accept the reality of the Armenian genocide. This is, of course, a taboo discussion topic in almost any situation, and with good reason: for Turks, the Armenia question is preventing them from entrance into the European Union and creating bad press for them in an era of economic expansion. After initial surprise, I sufficiently deflected the question, saying I would answer it after class because of the topics' sensitivity. Later, I gave the student an abridged answer to his question. I told him I wasn't averse to talking about it; in fact, because we have differing opinions, we should discuss it. However, that particular classroom was not the place for a lesson in Turkish-American international relations (more on this later). The student was apologetic, not so much for the question, but for my reaction I think. I was very surprised by this: I naively thought the subject wouldn't be broached.
Other than that one incident, the classes both went swimmingly. I look forward to teaching again tomorrow. In the meantime, I'm going to do some preliminary work on my research. Also, Mackenzie and I are in charge of Movie Club this month: tomorrow's film selection is Tarzan. We are shamelessly using free food as an incentive for the students (we chose Tarzan because of its simplicity, rating, and availability more than its appeal to college students).
So far, I am very happy to be to TOBB. It will still be a bit before I fall into something resembling a professional routine: I am constantly looking out for opportunities to make a real contribution to the school and not squander my time. In the meantime, I am catching up on my reading (right now: Turkish culture books and Jack Kerouac's On the Road, a book I feel is suited to my youthful wanderlust).
Hope to hear from all of you soon! More updates later this week (a lot has happened!). Hoshcakal!
11 Ocak 2010 Pazartesi
Merhoba!:The First Few Days
This is my blog for my time in Ankara, Turkey, during which I will be teaching English to students at TOBB University of Economy and Technology. This is for my six month co-op internship at Northeastern University.
I arrived in Turkey on Thursday the 7th, after about 24 hours of travel. I was reminded of the movie 'Planes, Trains, and Automobiles,' because the travel was a whirlwind of different modes of transportation. I did not tell my mother, but in order to get to TOBB University, I had to make my way from Esenboga Airport on the outskirts of Ankara to central Ankara via shuttle bus, then take a taxi to TOBB University. Making my way through the airports and bus stations was easy enough; in fact, it was almost too easy: English is very much the second language of the world. My flight out of JFK was delayed two hours; consequently, I missed my connection to Ankara. My new flight to Ankara from Istanbul left within 20 minutes of my landing; I didn't discover this until the clerk at the Turkish airlines counter told me to (literally) "run" to the gate so I wouldn't miss my flight. It was only a 40 minute flight to Ankara from Istanbul; we were descending as soon as we reached altitude it seemed. When I finally found my luggage (in the darkened, deserted international terminal, as opposed to the domestic terminal) I almost hugged it. The shuttle bus brought me to ASTI, the central bus station; from there I took a taxi to TOBB. At TOBB, there seemed to be some initial confusion as to who I was; when I finally did meet my boss, a jovial Turk named Semihbay (bay is a term meaning 'sir'), baggage in tow, I was suddenly aware of my fatigue, my disheveled appearence, and my acute body odor. Nevertheless, Semihbay was very nice, and had someone take me to my apartment. Triumphantly, I lay down in the apartment for a nap...
I was awoken an hour or so later by the arrival of Mackenzie and Annie, two more co-opers. We discovered that the other apartment had no electricity and emitted a foul odor (later we discovered just how much food the previous co-opers left in the refrigerator to rot!). After a brief crisis (Mackenzie got stuck in the elevator!), we went to TOBB to pick up Julia, the other co-oper who was arriving that day. She arrived with tears streaming down her face: she had just left her important documents, including her passport and the confirmation number for her lost baggage, in the taxi! Fortunately, she was safe (we now have the passport and the missing baggage :) )
The next day we had lunch with Semihbay, then explored Kizilay, the new part of downtown. On Saturday, Zack and Will arrived; now we are just waiting for Jamar, who comes Wednesday. On Sunday, we had a late start (we are all still travel weary; also, anyone who has been to a non-English speaking country knows the mental fatigue as your brain constantly works to process the new language); we took the bus into Kizilay and explored some more. We walked in the plaza of a large mosque, though we're not sure its name. Hearing the call to prayer everyday has been an amazing experience as well; it really drives home exactly how far from home I am! Furthermore, it is a subtle reminder of the Turkish past and the complexities of integrating that past with the Western conception of modernity (more on this later).
I'd like to note that everything I have read about Turkish hospitality is true: everyone has made an attempt to communicate, regardless of their proficiency (or, more often, lack of proficiency in English). Ankara is off the beaten path for most tourists-- imagine the appeal of DC without the monuments and statuery; however, people are somewhat knowledgeable of English and the United States. For instance, there is Ekram (all names are close approximations: it is difficult to distinguish names from other words at this point), the custodial head whose crew of cleaners set to work on the malodorous apartment; Dugyo (pronounced like a short form of 'do you go?') the security guard who tried to teach us Turkish, gave us cay (chai: tea) while we waited for Julia, and later Zack and Will; and Yoos, who calmly helped me free Mackenzie from the elevator when I, in panic, knocked desparately at his door and began babbling in English.
For our part, we are trying to learn as much about Turkey as quickly as possible. This is such a dynamic land with such a vibrant, complex history that I could easily spend more than six months researching Turkish culture and identity. I plan on working on at least one research project while I am here; Northeastern offers a scholarship for students conducting research in the Middle East (while I could do my entire project on determining whether Turkey is indeed part of the Middle East, I think I will focus on Turkish environmental movements instead). If anyone could recommend some research I would be very appreciative.
I am currently at my first day of work. This is the first prolonged period of Internet that I have had. We have had to walk to ASTI everytime we wanted to use the Internet thus far. Since it is day one, not much is happening. Right now, I'm just enjoying Internet time.
I apologize if there are any egregious spelling or grammatical errors; also, if you would like me to explain anything further, I certainly will.
Hoeshjeckal!
I arrived in Turkey on Thursday the 7th, after about 24 hours of travel. I was reminded of the movie 'Planes, Trains, and Automobiles,' because the travel was a whirlwind of different modes of transportation. I did not tell my mother, but in order to get to TOBB University, I had to make my way from Esenboga Airport on the outskirts of Ankara to central Ankara via shuttle bus, then take a taxi to TOBB University. Making my way through the airports and bus stations was easy enough; in fact, it was almost too easy: English is very much the second language of the world. My flight out of JFK was delayed two hours; consequently, I missed my connection to Ankara. My new flight to Ankara from Istanbul left within 20 minutes of my landing; I didn't discover this until the clerk at the Turkish airlines counter told me to (literally) "run" to the gate so I wouldn't miss my flight. It was only a 40 minute flight to Ankara from Istanbul; we were descending as soon as we reached altitude it seemed. When I finally found my luggage (in the darkened, deserted international terminal, as opposed to the domestic terminal) I almost hugged it. The shuttle bus brought me to ASTI, the central bus station; from there I took a taxi to TOBB. At TOBB, there seemed to be some initial confusion as to who I was; when I finally did meet my boss, a jovial Turk named Semihbay (bay is a term meaning 'sir'), baggage in tow, I was suddenly aware of my fatigue, my disheveled appearence, and my acute body odor. Nevertheless, Semihbay was very nice, and had someone take me to my apartment. Triumphantly, I lay down in the apartment for a nap...
I was awoken an hour or so later by the arrival of Mackenzie and Annie, two more co-opers. We discovered that the other apartment had no electricity and emitted a foul odor (later we discovered just how much food the previous co-opers left in the refrigerator to rot!). After a brief crisis (Mackenzie got stuck in the elevator!), we went to TOBB to pick up Julia, the other co-oper who was arriving that day. She arrived with tears streaming down her face: she had just left her important documents, including her passport and the confirmation number for her lost baggage, in the taxi! Fortunately, she was safe (we now have the passport and the missing baggage :) )
The next day we had lunch with Semihbay, then explored Kizilay, the new part of downtown. On Saturday, Zack and Will arrived; now we are just waiting for Jamar, who comes Wednesday. On Sunday, we had a late start (we are all still travel weary; also, anyone who has been to a non-English speaking country knows the mental fatigue as your brain constantly works to process the new language); we took the bus into Kizilay and explored some more. We walked in the plaza of a large mosque, though we're not sure its name. Hearing the call to prayer everyday has been an amazing experience as well; it really drives home exactly how far from home I am! Furthermore, it is a subtle reminder of the Turkish past and the complexities of integrating that past with the Western conception of modernity (more on this later).
I'd like to note that everything I have read about Turkish hospitality is true: everyone has made an attempt to communicate, regardless of their proficiency (or, more often, lack of proficiency in English). Ankara is off the beaten path for most tourists-- imagine the appeal of DC without the monuments and statuery; however, people are somewhat knowledgeable of English and the United States. For instance, there is Ekram (all names are close approximations: it is difficult to distinguish names from other words at this point), the custodial head whose crew of cleaners set to work on the malodorous apartment; Dugyo (pronounced like a short form of 'do you go?') the security guard who tried to teach us Turkish, gave us cay (chai: tea) while we waited for Julia, and later Zack and Will; and Yoos, who calmly helped me free Mackenzie from the elevator when I, in panic, knocked desparately at his door and began babbling in English.
For our part, we are trying to learn as much about Turkey as quickly as possible. This is such a dynamic land with such a vibrant, complex history that I could easily spend more than six months researching Turkish culture and identity. I plan on working on at least one research project while I am here; Northeastern offers a scholarship for students conducting research in the Middle East (while I could do my entire project on determining whether Turkey is indeed part of the Middle East, I think I will focus on Turkish environmental movements instead). If anyone could recommend some research I would be very appreciative.
I am currently at my first day of work. This is the first prolonged period of Internet that I have had. We have had to walk to ASTI everytime we wanted to use the Internet thus far. Since it is day one, not much is happening. Right now, I'm just enjoying Internet time.
I apologize if there are any egregious spelling or grammatical errors; also, if you would like me to explain anything further, I certainly will.
Hoeshjeckal!
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