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.
22 Mart 2010 Pazartesi
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...
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