TURKISH DELIGHTS - A few Concluding Thoughts - October 21st
Turkish Delights are more then just a famed national dessert, they are the bite-size embodiment of Turkey today. These jellylike cubes are sometimes rolled in pistachios, other times in hazelnut. Some arrive wrapped in coconut flakes, others in buttery sesame seeds. And still more, finished with a simple dusting of fine confectioner sugar. From the outside they all look a bit different but from the inside, flavors taste surprisingly similar. This is the key to understanding Turkey. An exterior as varied as the hundreds of civilizations that once inhabited the region with a core substance of the same flavor. We know this flavor as national pride! Pride is on the tip of every Turkish persons tongue, whether they recognize it or not. Boasting their democratic accomplishments in the past one hundred years, their religious and cultural acceptance efforts and their excitement for Turkeys continued success on the global stage. 5 weeks have gone by quicker then a New York minute and I have yet to find one bad thing to say. Thanks for sharing all your delights with me dear Turkey. I look forward to my inevitable return!! Tesekkur Ederim, Tesekkur Ederim!!
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TEA PLEASE - October 20th
What is the oldest drink on the planet? Some claim coffee. Others beer. But I’ll go with the Chinese on this one…TEA! No matter where you are in the world, north, south, east or west, this ancient brew brings people together. Even the simple act of preparing and serving tea encourages conversation and a friendly confidence.
In Turkey, tea is not only apart of daily life it is an institution. Served in short, chubby hourglass shaped glasses, tea is served piping hot with two cubes of sugar and the expectation of hasty consumption. Not because of a hurried days schedule mind you, but because the more tea you drink the closer you are to enligh”tea”ment. Ha, maybe not enlightenment but there is certainly something to be said for the guy knocking back 8 teas in an hour (and not just more bathroom breaks).
What is the oldest drink on the planet? Some claim coffee. Others beer. But I’ll go with the Chinese on this one…TEA! No matter where you are in the world, north, south, east or west, this ancient brew brings people together. Even the simple act of preparing and serving tea encourages conversation and a friendly confidence.
In Turkey, tea is not only apart of daily life it is an institution. Served in short, chubby hourglass shaped glasses, tea is served piping hot with two cubes of sugar and the expectation of hasty consumption. Not because of a hurried days schedule mind you, but because the more tea you drink the closer you are to enligh”tea”ment. Ha, maybe not enlightenment but there is certainly something to be said for the guy knocking back 8 teas in an hour (and not just more bathroom breaks).
Tea houses can be found on almost every street corner (many of which still advertise only male clientele...you can imagine how that went over with me) but if for some rason you can’t find a casa de la tea, don’t fret. Just wait for the next tea runner to come sprinting past.
Nimble as elves and feather-footed like ballerinas, I cast my unofficial ballot for "tea running" in the 2018 Olympics!! Balancing a dozen or so tea glasses brimming with piping hot liquid atop a thin bronze platter is difficult enough but ask them to run through throngs of human, vehicular and animal traffic, well that's just crazy!! Darting, squeezing and dancing through the streets, tea runners only need two fingers and two feet to perform this precarious olympic grade balancing act. I can see the fans now. Teahouse owners and geriatric regulars, throwing tea leaves and sugar cubes as their favorite runner crosses the finish line!! “Bier chai lutfen!” (One tea please!) Black, green, orange or herb, Turkish teas will have you singing with glee. Sherfe to you all and wishing a lifetime of joyous sips! |
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To Hike or Eat Baklava? - October 19th
Turkey’s Kackar Mountains are certainly a sight to behold…especially in October! A patchwork quilt of autumn colors blanketed over the foothills and lovingly wrapped around snow-kissed mountains. Intent on hitting the Crayola-colored trails, I set my sights high…11,000 feet above. The plan was a full day trek, looping a few of the regions famous peaks, but the unmarked trail heads and extreme weather conditions did little for my confidence. Heavily advised to organize a mountain guide even this frugal nilly would have coughed up the extra Turkish Lira had there been someone to pay. During Kurban Bayram (Muslim holiday) most outdoor-oriented tourists have flown the coop, replaced with faux fur, Ug boots, posh hijabs, bedazzled abayas and a more Muslim come Aspen-like clientele. Turkish fondue, natural hot pools and shopping topping most priority lists, not mountain treks.
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Guide or no guide, I came to hike!! Throwing caution to the wind, I climbed aboard the local dolmus (minibus) bound for the highest mountain village and trailhead. Down jacket, head torch, lighter, 2-liter bottle of water, my brother’s trusty Christmas compass and a loaf of bread would suffice. The bread not necessarily for sustenance, but a Hansel and Gretel like retreat…
“Do you speak English?” Craning my neck out the sliding door, I expected the question to be targeted in my direction. A curly haired, fair and freckled young lady was, to my surprise, enquiring with the driver. The man didn’t speak English but understood her query - She wanted a mountain guide. Securing probably the only willing guide in town, this kindred hiking soul and her eleventh hour mountaineer climbed aboard the same dolmus.
“Are you traveling alone,” I chimed. The woman almost fell backwards at the sound of my voice. Visibly relieved to meet someone who spoke Enlish in a sea of Turkish, we bonded in a moment. Her name, Dalia. Her origin, Egypt. Her mission, same as me. Trekking. And so a friendship was born.
An incredible twist of fate, I was no longer on my own but apart of a small team. Relieved and ever more excited, I tried to overlook the other twist of fate, the weather. Howling louder then the engine itself, gale force winds whipped around the vehicle, attempting to hurl us from every hairpin turn. Visibility was also challenged, buried beneath layers of cloud and, "Black Sea Fog". We didn’t need the guide to confirm what we already knew. The hike was off.
Anxiously arriving in the final village, our driver flung open the dolmus door and scurried us into a Nepali come Turkish-style teahouse. Locals hovered by stoves, drank chai and ate a most sinful dish - fondue meet gee (clarified butter). I could feel my arteries clogging just looking at the bubbling amalgamation.
“Do you speak English?” Craning my neck out the sliding door, I expected the question to be targeted in my direction. A curly haired, fair and freckled young lady was, to my surprise, enquiring with the driver. The man didn’t speak English but understood her query - She wanted a mountain guide. Securing probably the only willing guide in town, this kindred hiking soul and her eleventh hour mountaineer climbed aboard the same dolmus.
“Are you traveling alone,” I chimed. The woman almost fell backwards at the sound of my voice. Visibly relieved to meet someone who spoke Enlish in a sea of Turkish, we bonded in a moment. Her name, Dalia. Her origin, Egypt. Her mission, same as me. Trekking. And so a friendship was born.
An incredible twist of fate, I was no longer on my own but apart of a small team. Relieved and ever more excited, I tried to overlook the other twist of fate, the weather. Howling louder then the engine itself, gale force winds whipped around the vehicle, attempting to hurl us from every hairpin turn. Visibility was also challenged, buried beneath layers of cloud and, "Black Sea Fog". We didn’t need the guide to confirm what we already knew. The hike was off.
Anxiously arriving in the final village, our driver flung open the dolmus door and scurried us into a Nepali come Turkish-style teahouse. Locals hovered by stoves, drank chai and ate a most sinful dish - fondue meet gee (clarified butter). I could feel my arteries clogging just looking at the bubbling amalgamation.
The room oozed with rustic mountain charm and the warm embrace made for an all but intoxicating environment but Dalia and I had come for an adventure! Into the eye of the storm we trudged. The belly of the beast, tumultuous and unforgiving, we braced one another for fear of being blown clear off the mountain. A fruitless effort which left us waving the verbal white flag, “Okay Mother Nature, we give in.” Retreating to lower grounds, we followed an icy brook back to the village and eventually climbed aboard the returning dolmus.
If we couldn’t hike, we would at least celebrate a new friendship! Reaching the village of Ayder, our starting point, Dalia and I reconvened at her favorite eatery in town. Claiming to have the best baklava in all of Turkey, Dalia set my gastronomic expectations higher then the mountains themselves. |
Ooey gooey center topped with crisp, buttery crust and balanced with sublime hazelnut interior and sweet, but not sickening syrup, soaked through every layer of delicate pyhllo dough. Heat it up just slightly and Dalia was right. Nirvana on a plate. The only thing that could possibly make this dish sweeter, was the company. Dalia and I may not have climbed a mountain but we discovered something far better, a wonderful friendship.
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COME DINE WITH ME - October 18th
Crackling fire, Turkish folk music, polished wooden tables piled high with fried fish and 3 large families about to dine on a holiday feast…what’s out of place here? Me.
Snuggled against a cushy pillow next to the lodges glowing fire, I thought it better to let these jovial holiday makers enjoy family time while the token foreigner faded into the background.
"Where you from?” Raising my gaze from the latest, and not so greatest novel, a cheery middle-aged woman beamed back. Her simple, heartfelt question led to a reciprocated smile, awkward language exchange and an almost immediate dinner invitation.
Crackling fire, Turkish folk music, polished wooden tables piled high with fried fish and 3 large families about to dine on a holiday feast…what’s out of place here? Me.
Snuggled against a cushy pillow next to the lodges glowing fire, I thought it better to let these jovial holiday makers enjoy family time while the token foreigner faded into the background.
"Where you from?” Raising my gaze from the latest, and not so greatest novel, a cheery middle-aged woman beamed back. Her simple, heartfelt question led to a reciprocated smile, awkward language exchange and an almost immediate dinner invitation.
4 generations of Turkish women welcomed me to their feminine mystique. Architects, bankers, neurosurgeons and farmers, these grandmothers, mothers, daughters and granddaughters, all left their male counterparts at home for a women-only bayram celebration.
Thankfully, two of the mystique spoke enough rusty English to kick off my favorite childhood game, “Telephone”. Let the lost in translation dinner begin! “What? You want my only son?” Translated to, “I want you to marry my only son”. Or, “You want me to cook black fish?” What she was trying to say, “I want to teach you how to cook famous Black Sea fish”. Confused more then clear, our conversations flowed like a painful yet impossibly hilarious cartoon strip. |
Next character, my rosy cheeked, full-framed, food cheerleader. Unable to speak a lick of English the woman used gestures to offer comfort. Placing a reassuring arm around my shoulder, she made sure each course was served first to me. Every time I came up for air or took a moment to swallow, this woman gleefully sung, “yay, yay, yay”. Was this some Turkish tradition? Forcing a foreigner to eat until she was ripe for the spit? I mean, why else would she be cheering on each and every bite? One of the “translators” finally caved to my looks of confusion and clarified, “Yay, is short for “yemek”…EAT. She want you eat because you need it!” Like a Grandma pinching your tummy and insisting to, “put some meat on those bones”, I couldn’t let my food-leader down. Consuming way more then I ever thought humanly possible, I let the waistline grow…yay...yay...yay!
Stuffed like a chubby ragdoll, I couldn’t possibly fit dessert…but how about a dance? Similar to a Scottish bagpipe, the Turkish Tulum blared to life. Constructed of a plump red velvet bag (nev) with air pipe on top and flattened, cigar shaped flute on bottom, this traditional instrument produced a sound even the Scot’s would be proud of. Racing outside, my Bayram family and I joined in a Turkish jig. Surrounding our Tulum’ist’, we joined hands in a circular salute. Skipping and jumping, hooping and hollering, we let our actions harmonize with the music and our minds with the festival for which we celebrated.
Happy Kurban Bayram! |
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CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR - October 17th
Surprised and slightly disheartened by western and southern Turkeys tourism influx, I naturally headed for the opposite, north and east. To the Kackar Mountains and the little town of Ayder. Described as a quaint, charming, Alpine like village, I was anxious to enjoy my favorite month, autumn, in the Crayola kissed mountains alongside more localized Turkish company. Careful what you wish for!!
Perched on the side of a magnificent gully, and built on a hamstring challenging incline, Ayder resembled an anthill at warp speed. Scurrying over sidewalk, cobbled road and grassy knoll, Turkish and Arabian tourists streamed past in droves. Lines of motorized vehicles further complicated the mountainside clog, desperately trying to squeeze between parked cars on the one and only street through town. Honking has no place 2,000 feet up people!! This was a “retreat”?
Securing the last possible room in all of Ayder (thanks to a hotel workers generous offer to give up his room for a few nights), I began my first long anticipated hike…away from overloaded Ayder. Peace, quiet, and honk! Drat, more cars!! Continuing up the dusty mountain road, tourists sought higher elevations to enjoy picnic lunches in celebration of the festival I have come to love for the joy and tradition but loathe for the complicated transportation and accommodation issues, Kurban Bayram (Please Read: What is Kurban Bayram?).
The smell of barbeque meat (no doubt the remains of Bayram’s sacrificial animal slaughter) replaced the crisp bouquet of dried foliage and Turkish festival music masked the otherwise therapeautic sounds of rushing rivers and rustling leaves. But hey, when in Rome…or in Bayram!!
Surprised and slightly disheartened by western and southern Turkeys tourism influx, I naturally headed for the opposite, north and east. To the Kackar Mountains and the little town of Ayder. Described as a quaint, charming, Alpine like village, I was anxious to enjoy my favorite month, autumn, in the Crayola kissed mountains alongside more localized Turkish company. Careful what you wish for!!
Perched on the side of a magnificent gully, and built on a hamstring challenging incline, Ayder resembled an anthill at warp speed. Scurrying over sidewalk, cobbled road and grassy knoll, Turkish and Arabian tourists streamed past in droves. Lines of motorized vehicles further complicated the mountainside clog, desperately trying to squeeze between parked cars on the one and only street through town. Honking has no place 2,000 feet up people!! This was a “retreat”?
Securing the last possible room in all of Ayder (thanks to a hotel workers generous offer to give up his room for a few nights), I began my first long anticipated hike…away from overloaded Ayder. Peace, quiet, and honk! Drat, more cars!! Continuing up the dusty mountain road, tourists sought higher elevations to enjoy picnic lunches in celebration of the festival I have come to love for the joy and tradition but loathe for the complicated transportation and accommodation issues, Kurban Bayram (Please Read: What is Kurban Bayram?).
The smell of barbeque meat (no doubt the remains of Bayram’s sacrificial animal slaughter) replaced the crisp bouquet of dried foliage and Turkish festival music masked the otherwise therapeautic sounds of rushing rivers and rustling leaves. But hey, when in Rome…or in Bayram!!
Switching mental gears, I began to thoroughly appreciate the not-so-natural, yet unique and once in a year, human surrounds. Like an orphan staring through a window at a feasting family, I wished I could enjoy a slice of this beloved holiday – or at least some of that recently butchered, insanely delicious smelling sirloin.
Meandering between a sea of dark features, this blonde hair, green eyed foreigner (the only one in the entire town…true story) sorta stuck out. I finally felt like the outsider I had strangely hoped to be. “Careful what you wish for”, I chuckled to myself. Plunking down on a large rock high above at least two-dozen picnicking families, I pulled out my own bayram celebration - a bottle of water and chocolate cookies. Tiny Tim couldn't have said it better, "God (or in this case, Allah) Bless us, Everyone!" |
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BABY ON BOARD - October 16th
Just when I thought the 18-hour overnight bus ride from Adiyaman to Trabzon would be easy...On board Wifi, personal television playing a never ending slew of Turkish game shows (my new favorite pastime), complimentary ultra-processed but ultra delicious sweet cakes and unlimited Coca-Cola, Nescafe and what I call, "crack in a can", cherry juice...the baby next to me throws a wrench in the situation. Or should I say, "wretch". Vomiting over and over into the aisle, I'm sure she lost her entire body weight in liquid...liquid landing just inches from my once warm, dry foot. Dear traveling gods, you have a funny sense of humor.
Just when I thought the 18-hour overnight bus ride from Adiyaman to Trabzon would be easy...On board Wifi, personal television playing a never ending slew of Turkish game shows (my new favorite pastime), complimentary ultra-processed but ultra delicious sweet cakes and unlimited Coca-Cola, Nescafe and what I call, "crack in a can", cherry juice...the baby next to me throws a wrench in the situation. Or should I say, "wretch". Vomiting over and over into the aisle, I'm sure she lost her entire body weight in liquid...liquid landing just inches from my once warm, dry foot. Dear traveling gods, you have a funny sense of humor.
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ROLL THE DICE - October 15th
Sometimes even the most savvy of travelers forget to factor public or religious holidays into their itineraries, i.e. Uh, Me.
Kurban Bayram is a major, worldwide Muslim holiday whose main byproduct (aside from sacrificed animals) is a slaughtered bus system. Either fully booked or cancelled all together due to the week long festival, you aren’t going anywhere fast during Bayram.
When I first heard this rather unnerving news, I mused, “Yay right, there’s always space if someone is willing to pay.” But this isn’t Africa Reg. 47 people can't legally fit in a 24-seater bus! You either have an assigned seat or your bum remains on the curb. Needless to say, my onward journey options were severely limited no matter where I went in the country.
Sometimes even the most savvy of travelers forget to factor public or religious holidays into their itineraries, i.e. Uh, Me.
Kurban Bayram is a major, worldwide Muslim holiday whose main byproduct (aside from sacrificed animals) is a slaughtered bus system. Either fully booked or cancelled all together due to the week long festival, you aren’t going anywhere fast during Bayram.
When I first heard this rather unnerving news, I mused, “Yay right, there’s always space if someone is willing to pay.” But this isn’t Africa Reg. 47 people can't legally fit in a 24-seater bus! You either have an assigned seat or your bum remains on the curb. Needless to say, my onward journey options were severely limited no matter where I went in the country.
Joining forces with a serendipitous tour company from Goreme to Kahta (and Mount Nemrut Dagi), fate had already played me a great hand. We would be the last tour group to see sunrise over Mount Nemrut Dagi before closing for the winter season. One day later and I would have missed the phenomenon of gigantic, decapitated statues dancing to life in dawns early light.
Fate so far on my side, I decided to roll the dice again. “Momma needs a new pair of shoes…” “Nevzat, will you drop me at the nearest bus station?” “Where will you go”, Nevzat kindly responded. “I have no idea”. Looking deeply perplexed and borderline worried, Nevzat challenged, “What if there are no buses today or tomorrow because of bayram?” “Then I will wait”, I casually replied. |
Not one to argue and somehow relieved by my carefree, smiling attitude, Nevzat agreed (besides, he knew my budget wouldn't allow for two more days on his arranged tour). My tour group also inquired as to my next stop, each one just as surprised as Nevzat. "You really don't know where you're going?" Nope. I had no plan, no direction, no destination and no worries. Fate would deal me a good hand, I just knew it.
More of a ghost town then a bustling transportation hub, the bus station didn't look promising. A few men drank chai quietly, absorbed in the daily newspapers, until the random gringa-in-the-headlights caught their attention. Ali, a weathered old bus attendant offered assistance. “No bus today. Its bayram." "Oh please sir, there must be something", I pleaded. "Only possible…Trabzon at 4 p.m... but it's very far madam." Somehow relieved by this, his only option, the estimated time quote of 18 hours didn’t phase me. I had a destination, a port of call, a plan. “Sign me up”, I sung to Ali, "Black Sea here I come!"
More of a ghost town then a bustling transportation hub, the bus station didn't look promising. A few men drank chai quietly, absorbed in the daily newspapers, until the random gringa-in-the-headlights caught their attention. Ali, a weathered old bus attendant offered assistance. “No bus today. Its bayram." "Oh please sir, there must be something", I pleaded. "Only possible…Trabzon at 4 p.m... but it's very far madam." Somehow relieved by this, his only option, the estimated time quote of 18 hours didn’t phase me. I had a destination, a port of call, a plan. “Sign me up”, I sung to Ali, "Black Sea here I come!"
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BACKPACKER OR TOUR CONVERT? - October 14th
All-inclusive, multi-day tours have always been a rarity for me. Somewhat bizarre and alien-like experiences that absorb my backpacker dollars faster then water in the Sahara. I mean I’m a backpacker right? Doesn’t that mean I huff it via local transport, sleep in bed bug riddled hostels and eat meals scraped off the local restaurants wall? Well not today!
Failing to factor in an ultra- important Muslim festival to my free-flowing travel itinerary, I was shocked to discover all buses to and from Cappadocia were booked solid for the next 4 days. Already well exceeding my intended stay in Goreme, Cappadocia (3 days to 9) I needed to move. But how? Organized by my incredible hostel owner, Apo, a private tour company agreed to transport this dusty backpacker to her next destination, Mount Nemrut Dagi. No amenities or tourist site fees would be included in my ticket price but I didn’t care. I had my ticket out! Cramming half a loaf of crusty bread with the remains of breakfast - a hard boiled egg, tomatoes and cheese, I had lunch sorted anyways. Quick hugs with the hostel crew, whom I now regarded friends, and I boarded the tour bus.
Crossing the threshold, fate played me another fantastic hand - I landed on a tour bus with the most easy going, fun loving, adventurous “adults”, you could ever organize. I say adults as a term of endearment, mind you. Just an expression of those a wee bit older then myself with children, well, my age ;-) We had a ball! Every moment passed strangely reminiscent of hilarious family conversations over the dinner table or long family road trips. The quintessential, “Are we there yet”, and, “I’m hungry”, comments streaming from each of our lips on a few different occasions.
For an entire day, I had the pleasure of getting to know each of these incredible individuals. A handful from Canada, a trio of Turkish Aussies, a California named after my favorite beverage, Margarita, and of course our congenial, ever smiling guide and driver, Nevzat and Samet. There is so much to be said for a private tour. The knowledge imparted leaps and bounds above a local bus ride (unless learning how to pee quickly between random road side stops is knowledge). Do
All-inclusive, multi-day tours have always been a rarity for me. Somewhat bizarre and alien-like experiences that absorb my backpacker dollars faster then water in the Sahara. I mean I’m a backpacker right? Doesn’t that mean I huff it via local transport, sleep in bed bug riddled hostels and eat meals scraped off the local restaurants wall? Well not today!
Failing to factor in an ultra- important Muslim festival to my free-flowing travel itinerary, I was shocked to discover all buses to and from Cappadocia were booked solid for the next 4 days. Already well exceeding my intended stay in Goreme, Cappadocia (3 days to 9) I needed to move. But how? Organized by my incredible hostel owner, Apo, a private tour company agreed to transport this dusty backpacker to her next destination, Mount Nemrut Dagi. No amenities or tourist site fees would be included in my ticket price but I didn’t care. I had my ticket out! Cramming half a loaf of crusty bread with the remains of breakfast - a hard boiled egg, tomatoes and cheese, I had lunch sorted anyways. Quick hugs with the hostel crew, whom I now regarded friends, and I boarded the tour bus.
Crossing the threshold, fate played me another fantastic hand - I landed on a tour bus with the most easy going, fun loving, adventurous “adults”, you could ever organize. I say adults as a term of endearment, mind you. Just an expression of those a wee bit older then myself with children, well, my age ;-) We had a ball! Every moment passed strangely reminiscent of hilarious family conversations over the dinner table or long family road trips. The quintessential, “Are we there yet”, and, “I’m hungry”, comments streaming from each of our lips on a few different occasions.
For an entire day, I had the pleasure of getting to know each of these incredible individuals. A handful from Canada, a trio of Turkish Aussies, a California named after my favorite beverage, Margarita, and of course our congenial, ever smiling guide and driver, Nevzat and Samet. There is so much to be said for a private tour. The knowledge imparted leaps and bounds above a local bus ride (unless learning how to pee quickly between random road side stops is knowledge). Do
Arriving very late to our hotel in Kahta (after a day of sight seeing and a lengthy bus breakdown), Nevzat kindly arranged a hotel room for me. Sure it was a bit out of the budget but money well spent, I concluded, considering the fantastic company I'd had all day and would continue to have through a ridiculously late buffet dinner. A 3-Star hotel, be still my heart! A kid in a candy store, I may have jumped on the bed...a few times...and possibly pilfered a few shampoos and conditions for the road. 2 hours of sleep was all I could afford (free wifi in the room must be capitalized on) before the wake up call buzzed. 3:30 am, time to get up, Mount Nemrut Dagi awaits!
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SHAMAN...MEET REGINA - October 12th
Days with my Turkish shaman revolved around tea. All varieties, in all locations, with all forms of company - local musicians, artists, potters, teahouse owners and random friends on street corners. Between tea breaks, we hiked through autumn colored valleys, shopped for local produce, threw clay pots on an archaic wheel, picked apples and hitch hiked between nearby villages. Afternoons were mainly spent on his sunny, cave-like porch listening to the sounds of nature chirping, buzzing and whistling with life.
My shaman, Yuksel, helped me quiet my mind for a few days but not shut it up. Shaman ways teach you must give up earthly stresses i.e. careers, money and family ties in order to truly understand and appreciate the universe as a whole. I pushed back against this idea, reiterating the importance of earthly ties as the cause for development, learning and growth. The person I am today is a reflection of all the wonderful, challenging, joyous, sad and loving experiences throughout my life. Why would I ever want to give up the incredible person I am or the incredible people who shaped me?
Up to this point, everything Yuksel said made sense. Offering an objective and refreshing clarity on life. But Yuksel had stepped over the line. Stomping on my core beliefs, those aspects of life that, in my opinion, make life worth living. I was no longer chatting about life with a nice old man, I was defending myself to someone who thought of me as a possible protégé. Sorry my friend, I am who I am and no shaman will ever change that.
The biggest lesson I learned from my time with Yuksel was, ironically, a lesson I taught myself. I am enough!! Trust my thoughts, my intuitions and my core person. I am who I am and that is the greatest gift of all.
Days with my Turkish shaman revolved around tea. All varieties, in all locations, with all forms of company - local musicians, artists, potters, teahouse owners and random friends on street corners. Between tea breaks, we hiked through autumn colored valleys, shopped for local produce, threw clay pots on an archaic wheel, picked apples and hitch hiked between nearby villages. Afternoons were mainly spent on his sunny, cave-like porch listening to the sounds of nature chirping, buzzing and whistling with life.
My shaman, Yuksel, helped me quiet my mind for a few days but not shut it up. Shaman ways teach you must give up earthly stresses i.e. careers, money and family ties in order to truly understand and appreciate the universe as a whole. I pushed back against this idea, reiterating the importance of earthly ties as the cause for development, learning and growth. The person I am today is a reflection of all the wonderful, challenging, joyous, sad and loving experiences throughout my life. Why would I ever want to give up the incredible person I am or the incredible people who shaped me?
Up to this point, everything Yuksel said made sense. Offering an objective and refreshing clarity on life. But Yuksel had stepped over the line. Stomping on my core beliefs, those aspects of life that, in my opinion, make life worth living. I was no longer chatting about life with a nice old man, I was defending myself to someone who thought of me as a possible protégé. Sorry my friend, I am who I am and no shaman will ever change that.
The biggest lesson I learned from my time with Yuksel was, ironically, a lesson I taught myself. I am enough!! Trust my thoughts, my intuitions and my core person. I am who I am and that is the greatest gift of all.
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TEA WITH A SHAMAN - October 11th
Traveling, especially on your own, breeds a certain element of caution. An invisible sentry standing guard just behind your friendly smile ready to flee or flight if troubles should arise. This sentry is more commonly referred to as your gut. In this instance, my gut produced nothing but warm fuzzies and positive feelings towards my new friend Yuksel yet I approached our “tea date” with ultimate care. Sitting down in a men’s only teahouse across from Yuksel and two non-English speaking friends, I immediately felt out of place. Very aware of the men’s only customs here in Turkey, I knew the insult was grave but Yuksel, a Turkish born, western educated, free thinking hippie laughed at my concern. “Let them talk, let them gossip, you are my friend, woman or not, you belong”. Feeling ever more comfortable, I settled into the chair and let conversation flow. After a few teas, Yuksel invited me to see his cave (an offer extended the previous day). My gut told me yes but my words responded with the opposite. Creating a phony afternoon agenda involving some make believe hostel roommates and an alleged hike, I lied to the person who had been so kind to me.
Yuksel's soft eyes hardened and his relaxed demeanor morphed into discontent. “You said you want to learn about Turkish culture. You said you want to learn with a shaman. You said we were friends, yet you deny me. Go, thank you very much.” Completely taken aback by his change of personality, I battled back. “Yuksel, I am a traveler and I meet people everyday. I try to balance my time with many people and experiences”. Defending my fake agenda, we went round for round until Yuksel stated, “You run, run, run. Your head and heart don’t align. You think you know what your head wants, but you have no idea. Where is your heart? Go, thank you very much”. Backed against a wall and voicing extreme defense, I saw words of retort streaming from my lips but I no longer knew what I was saying. My mind was silencing. My heart was opening.
Trust me, this is not an, “Eat, Pray, Love”, scenario. I haven’t found myself with a shaman or given up my core person for a new existence all together, I’m just offering a few words of appreciation for a couple eye-opening days. Sometimes tough love, a bit of an objective challenge, is what we need to let the wall down and a little clarity in.
Traveling, especially on your own, breeds a certain element of caution. An invisible sentry standing guard just behind your friendly smile ready to flee or flight if troubles should arise. This sentry is more commonly referred to as your gut. In this instance, my gut produced nothing but warm fuzzies and positive feelings towards my new friend Yuksel yet I approached our “tea date” with ultimate care. Sitting down in a men’s only teahouse across from Yuksel and two non-English speaking friends, I immediately felt out of place. Very aware of the men’s only customs here in Turkey, I knew the insult was grave but Yuksel, a Turkish born, western educated, free thinking hippie laughed at my concern. “Let them talk, let them gossip, you are my friend, woman or not, you belong”. Feeling ever more comfortable, I settled into the chair and let conversation flow. After a few teas, Yuksel invited me to see his cave (an offer extended the previous day). My gut told me yes but my words responded with the opposite. Creating a phony afternoon agenda involving some make believe hostel roommates and an alleged hike, I lied to the person who had been so kind to me.
Yuksel's soft eyes hardened and his relaxed demeanor morphed into discontent. “You said you want to learn about Turkish culture. You said you want to learn with a shaman. You said we were friends, yet you deny me. Go, thank you very much.” Completely taken aback by his change of personality, I battled back. “Yuksel, I am a traveler and I meet people everyday. I try to balance my time with many people and experiences”. Defending my fake agenda, we went round for round until Yuksel stated, “You run, run, run. Your head and heart don’t align. You think you know what your head wants, but you have no idea. Where is your heart? Go, thank you very much”. Backed against a wall and voicing extreme defense, I saw words of retort streaming from my lips but I no longer knew what I was saying. My mind was silencing. My heart was opening.
Trust me, this is not an, “Eat, Pray, Love”, scenario. I haven’t found myself with a shaman or given up my core person for a new existence all together, I’m just offering a few words of appreciation for a couple eye-opening days. Sometimes tough love, a bit of an objective challenge, is what we need to let the wall down and a little clarity in.
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OH THE PEOPLE YOU MEET - October 10th
Pep in my step and chirpy whistle on my lips, I gleefully hiked into one of Cappadocia’s famed canyons, “Love Valley”. Strolling past an old, ramshackle hut, 4 local men sat at a splintered picnic table. Laughing about the day’s news between large bites of bbq'd meat, I sung a quick, “Merhaba”, as I passed. A kind reply to my salutation was all I expected but that was hardly enough for these chaps. Throwing their hands up in gestures of welcome, one exclaimed, "Come, eat with us". “No, no”, I replied, “I couldn’t possibly eat your lunch.” The man in a Stetson cowboy hat with long grey curls asked, “Why not”. “Why not”, I pondered. “Well…” “Exactly”, he retorted, “well nothing…sit!” Plunking down next to him on the weathered wooden bench, a half eaten loaf of bread was set before me along with sheep kidney, piles of chili's and a plastic cup brimming with hot turnip juice. It took a moment to overcome the kidney aesthetics, similar to a charbroiled human ear, but down the hatch it went with a surprisingly mild flavor. The hot turnip juice, on the other hand, left a taste I will not soon forget, Yuck!
Pep in my step and chirpy whistle on my lips, I gleefully hiked into one of Cappadocia’s famed canyons, “Love Valley”. Strolling past an old, ramshackle hut, 4 local men sat at a splintered picnic table. Laughing about the day’s news between large bites of bbq'd meat, I sung a quick, “Merhaba”, as I passed. A kind reply to my salutation was all I expected but that was hardly enough for these chaps. Throwing their hands up in gestures of welcome, one exclaimed, "Come, eat with us". “No, no”, I replied, “I couldn’t possibly eat your lunch.” The man in a Stetson cowboy hat with long grey curls asked, “Why not”. “Why not”, I pondered. “Well…” “Exactly”, he retorted, “well nothing…sit!” Plunking down next to him on the weathered wooden bench, a half eaten loaf of bread was set before me along with sheep kidney, piles of chili's and a plastic cup brimming with hot turnip juice. It took a moment to overcome the kidney aesthetics, similar to a charbroiled human ear, but down the hatch it went with a surprisingly mild flavor. The hot turnip juice, on the other hand, left a taste I will not soon forget, Yuck!
Yuksel, the only man of the 4 who could speak English, laughed at my reaction and offered water instead. His smile radiated kindness and his demeanor was simple, pure and content. I could tell not an ounce of stress affected this man and his days were spent in good company, saturated in great conversation. Chatting for a few hours, this 51-year old, Stetson wearing, Hippie-hair sporting, Gandelf the Great looking, Turkish man reminded me the joys of random company in random circumstances. Thanking Yuksel and his friends for their generosity, I assumed the meeting was over but before I could carry on my way, Yuksel politely asked, “Tea tomorrow? You have a bright future and I would like to talk with you more." I replied in mid-laugh, "Ha, how do you know my future?" Yuksel responded quietly but confidently, "I am a shaman. I know more then you think". We have been having tea everyday since!
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CAPPADOCIA FROM ABOVE - October 8th
A hot air balloon ride has been on my bucket list ever since Phileas Fogg went around the world in 80 days! But a hot air balloon ride over Cappadocia is an adventure even Phileas would be jealous of!
Located in central Turkey, in the heart of Anatolia, Cappadocia will transport you from reality to fantasy in a matter of miles! A bizarre and spectacular landscape that Hollywood box office hits and science fiction novels are made of. Famous for its fairy chimney rock formations and ancient cave homes, this lunar-like landscape is best seen from 1,000 feet above!
A hot air balloon ride has been on my bucket list ever since Phileas Fogg went around the world in 80 days! But a hot air balloon ride over Cappadocia is an adventure even Phileas would be jealous of!
Located in central Turkey, in the heart of Anatolia, Cappadocia will transport you from reality to fantasy in a matter of miles! A bizarre and spectacular landscape that Hollywood box office hits and science fiction novels are made of. Famous for its fairy chimney rock formations and ancient cave homes, this lunar-like landscape is best seen from 1,000 feet above!
5am wakeup call matched with negative temperatures didn’t necessarily encourage an exposed hour-long flight but the moment our balloon took off, the blistery cold was forgotten. Effortless and stable, I hardly knew we were flying until looking down. Watching the world slowly fall away felt like a dream. No fear, just excitement. Balloon after balloon lifted into the pre-dawn sky, visible only by their propane-induced glowing red interiors. The promising rays of morning soon creeped over the adjacent plateau and the once dark valley revealed itself to our eager eyes. Hundred-story mushroom topped fairy chimneys, gigantic rock hewn churches and countless cliff-side cave homes all stared back. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face for the entire hour-long flight and when it was time to land, the sentiment was unanimous, "We don't want to go down!". A successful trailer bed landing followed by the traditional champagne toast concluded one of my Top 10 adventures around the world!
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BEST DAY EVER - October 7th
5 am wake up call and frosty Fall conditions couldn’t put me off a once in a lifetime flight. Sunrise hot air balloon ride over Turkey’s famed Cappadocia had me grinning ear to ear (that is, if I could feel my ears). Up next, Pigeon Valley. Lunar landscapes matched with autumn hues of burgundy, auburn and toasted wheat created the mood for exploration. Taking the high road, Mountain turtle Amy and me, crazed Donkey Reggie, landed atop hundred foot tall mushroom hats overlooking the surreal scape. Along the way, we managed to save a middle-aged, slightly overweight German man from falling to his death and even stopped into Fred and Wilma Flinstones cave for a quick cuppa. Hark, what’s that I see…Reggie’s first piece of real estate! A two-story cave in the shape of a slender elf hat. A 50-foot tall elf hat! Move in ready with a view...where do I sign? Onto lunch for lentil soup, meze, cherry pie in a can and the most hilarious, random restaurant owner yet. I didn’t know kangaroos lived in Canada…but he did?! Onto the the best view of Cappadocia from Uchisar Castle. The highest point in the region, this bizarre stack of cave houses, honeycombed rock and fairy chimneys reach to the sky. Straight out of a movie…or nightmare, they are entrancing!
5 am wake up call and frosty Fall conditions couldn’t put me off a once in a lifetime flight. Sunrise hot air balloon ride over Turkey’s famed Cappadocia had me grinning ear to ear (that is, if I could feel my ears). Up next, Pigeon Valley. Lunar landscapes matched with autumn hues of burgundy, auburn and toasted wheat created the mood for exploration. Taking the high road, Mountain turtle Amy and me, crazed Donkey Reggie, landed atop hundred foot tall mushroom hats overlooking the surreal scape. Along the way, we managed to save a middle-aged, slightly overweight German man from falling to his death and even stopped into Fred and Wilma Flinstones cave for a quick cuppa. Hark, what’s that I see…Reggie’s first piece of real estate! A two-story cave in the shape of a slender elf hat. A 50-foot tall elf hat! Move in ready with a view...where do I sign? Onto lunch for lentil soup, meze, cherry pie in a can and the most hilarious, random restaurant owner yet. I didn’t know kangaroos lived in Canada…but he did?! Onto the the best view of Cappadocia from Uchisar Castle. The highest point in the region, this bizarre stack of cave houses, honeycombed rock and fairy chimneys reach to the sky. Straight out of a movie…or nightmare, they are entrancing!
Our day was not complete without a pumpkin. Makes perfect sense, right? Paying well over market rate for this perfectly formed orb, Amy and I triumphantly strolled the street with the intent to carve a pre-Halloween jack-o-lantern. Enter stage left, 4 large and in charge, scarved women. Stone face serious and built like trucks, they shouted at us and our poor pumpkin. Throwing their hands up, making erratic crosses above its flesh and yelling something in Turkish, you would think we had stolen the town treasure. Turns out, they were only warning us of its not so appealing innards. Ah ha, that would explain the laughs, head shakes and stupid tourist looks we received while sitting on the curb waiting for a local bus. Poser pumkin or not, our pre-Halloween party had to go on. Meet Jack!! Most random day ever, yes. Best day ever, hell yes!
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"Beach to Brr" - October 5th
Overnight bus ride from Fethiye to Goreme was a dream…minus the dreams. No sleep to be had due to menopausal onboard climate control but as dawn broke, my groggy eyes lit up with this view. A promise of what’s to come, hundreds of hot air balloons dotted the hazy horizon. Soaring high above the outer worldly, mushroom top, fairy chimneys of Cappadocia is said to be one of Turkey’s best experiences. This unique landscape was once home to 6th and 7th century Christians persecuted by the Ottoman Turks for their beliefs. Carving secret passageways, homes, churches and hideaways out of the rocky crags, Christians successfully hid for hundreds of years. Can’t come to a cave town and not stay in a cave. Scoring a 6-bed cave, I mean dorm, provides a cozy sanctuary and protects inhabitants from plummeting outdoor temperatures. Fall in Cappadocia requires more then just a light jacket and jeans…boots, down jacket and knitted cap required. Beach to Brrr…More Apple Tea please... |
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"Cheap Bus Travel?" - October 4th
Armed with eye mask, ear plugs, processed snacks and valium, I came prepared for my first overnight bus ride in Turkey! Errr…be still my wanderlust backpacking heart. Personal television, wifi, inflight meal, chai on order and a seat that reclines further then the standard 3 inches. An evening of Turkish soap operas and shameless self-promotion lie ahead…Jaunting across Turkey has never been easier! |
"The Unforgettables" - October 3rd
Often as a traveler, cities, sights and people mash together. What was the name of that ancient sight again? And where did I meet that lady with the hilarious laugh? And which city had the fantastic fish restaurant? But when something or someone rises above the daily tourist jumble, a lasting imprint is made. What I call the, “Unforgettables”! Meet Alp. Thanks to my favorite directional beacon, my veracious belly, I landed at Karabina Bistro in Fethiye’s city center. Plopping down at one of the rustic wooden tables, new travel bud Amy and old travel buds, Lonely Planet and Macbook Pro, went to work on booking flights and last minute buses for the next leg of my Turkish adventure. Alp saw my obvious consternation and offered to help. “Help”, being an understatement. He set this jauntarista in the right direction, more helpful then any local tour guide or companies oombined. Since that fateful day, I have returned religiously for incredible food, great banter and the most comfortable place to simply chill. Alp even loaned me a bike for a day which I ironically, managed a flat tire on. I couldn't apologize enough and offered to buy a new tube but he only chuckled, "It happens", his tim spent in Australia shining through in his laid back, no worries demeanor. Alp even offered for he and his wife to host me on my return journey to Fethije along with helping me get involved with a local charity. Alp didn't need to go above and beyond but he did. He is my Fethiye “Unforgettable”!
Often as a traveler, cities, sights and people mash together. What was the name of that ancient sight again? And where did I meet that lady with the hilarious laugh? And which city had the fantastic fish restaurant? But when something or someone rises above the daily tourist jumble, a lasting imprint is made. What I call the, “Unforgettables”! Meet Alp. Thanks to my favorite directional beacon, my veracious belly, I landed at Karabina Bistro in Fethiye’s city center. Plopping down at one of the rustic wooden tables, new travel bud Amy and old travel buds, Lonely Planet and Macbook Pro, went to work on booking flights and last minute buses for the next leg of my Turkish adventure. Alp saw my obvious consternation and offered to help. “Help”, being an understatement. He set this jauntarista in the right direction, more helpful then any local tour guide or companies oombined. Since that fateful day, I have returned religiously for incredible food, great banter and the most comfortable place to simply chill. Alp even loaned me a bike for a day which I ironically, managed a flat tire on. I couldn't apologize enough and offered to buy a new tube but he only chuckled, "It happens", his tim spent in Australia shining through in his laid back, no worries demeanor. Alp even offered for he and his wife to host me on my return journey to Fethije along with helping me get involved with a local charity. Alp didn't need to go above and beyond but he did. He is my Fethiye “Unforgettable”!
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First impressions aren’t always what they seem - October 2nd
Described by local Turks as small, quaint and beach bum worthy, the southern coastal town of Fethiye was, well, forgettable. Or was it? Staying in a below average hostel the first night and only exploring a small chunk of the touristy harbor (due to a late arrival), I couldn’t get out fast enough. My non-verbalized sentiment was to never return, yet here I sit, a week later, LOVING the town I originally snubbed. The first attitude-altering discovery, a fantastic hostel! Ideal Pension is, as the name would suggest, "ideal"! Cheap, includes great brekkie and sports a rooftop common room rivaling any posh hotel in town. Second key to attitude-alteration, exploring more then just the harbor. The Tomb of Amyntas, Fethiye’s most recognized sight, is a temple façade carved into sheer rock face dating back to 350 B.C!! The 15th century Crusader Fortress, situated high atop the nearby hill, is another delight as is the Tuesday Market – goat cheese, dried fruits and those incredible Turkish pancakes = Happy Reggie! But my favorite part of Fethiye came in the evening. Strolling the expansive harborside promenade, hundreds of restaurants, trendy bars and bean bag cafe's call for sundowners. Don’t’ forget to stop off for a pre-meal workout at one of the promenades many outdoor, public workout facilities and after an undoubted big meal jog off your food baby along the airline runway - An illuminated track flashing you back to the city center. First impressions aren’t always correct. Sometimes places are worth a second look!
Described by local Turks as small, quaint and beach bum worthy, the southern coastal town of Fethiye was, well, forgettable. Or was it? Staying in a below average hostel the first night and only exploring a small chunk of the touristy harbor (due to a late arrival), I couldn’t get out fast enough. My non-verbalized sentiment was to never return, yet here I sit, a week later, LOVING the town I originally snubbed. The first attitude-altering discovery, a fantastic hostel! Ideal Pension is, as the name would suggest, "ideal"! Cheap, includes great brekkie and sports a rooftop common room rivaling any posh hotel in town. Second key to attitude-alteration, exploring more then just the harbor. The Tomb of Amyntas, Fethiye’s most recognized sight, is a temple façade carved into sheer rock face dating back to 350 B.C!! The 15th century Crusader Fortress, situated high atop the nearby hill, is another delight as is the Tuesday Market – goat cheese, dried fruits and those incredible Turkish pancakes = Happy Reggie! But my favorite part of Fethiye came in the evening. Strolling the expansive harborside promenade, hundreds of restaurants, trendy bars and bean bag cafe's call for sundowners. Don’t’ forget to stop off for a pre-meal workout at one of the promenades many outdoor, public workout facilities and after an undoubted big meal jog off your food baby along the airline runway - An illuminated track flashing you back to the city center. First impressions aren’t always correct. Sometimes places are worth a second look!
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GHOST TOWN - October 1st
Not one for ghost stories, I was surprisingly intrigued by Turkey’s very own Ghost Town, Kayakoy! Dating back to 3rd century B.C., this Greek township thrived until 1923 when the Macedonian Turks moved in and forced the Greeks out. But the Turks didn’t stay long. Some say the Greeks poisoned the well water before departing, others claim the abandonment was due to rough and rugged landscape; the Turks deeming the land unfit for cultivation. Whatever the reason, the Turks left the town to ruin only a few years after occupying it. Hundreds of crumbled houses, rock walls, wells and a fortress still remain - the perfect setting for Wes Craven's next spine-chilling horror movie! Get lost in the creepy alleyways and listen for whispers of the past humming in the wind. A definite presence here…and thankfully…not that of many tourists. Price is also right, 5 Lira (2.50 USD) for your very own, "Haunted House(s)"... |
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CHEAPEST AND BEST OF THE MED - September 30th
The cheapest and best activity of my trip thus far…a Mediterranean boat cruise. Lasting 7 sun-kissed hours we visited 6 stunning and mostly secluded coves! First stop, Butterfly Valley where I discovered my very own fountain of youth. Feeling 10 years younger, I decided to channel my inner child and enjoy the on board, boat length waterslide. Hmm…note to self…only go down a waterslide when there’s water to slide on. Screeched to a plasticized, bum burning halt half way down, forced to crawl the last 30 feet of the extra long slide. Into the salty Med for a Float and Bloat…salt making it easy to float but impossible not to bloat. Needed liquid to wash down the salt... lo and behold, ice cold Efes (Turkish Beer) emerged! Finished the cruise with a sister hoedown on the sundeck, Oh Cotton Eyed Joe, and arrived to Oludeniz, our first port of call, happier then Poseidon himself. The cost…10 USD! Cheapest and Best always wins in my book! |
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Sister Splurge - September 29th
As a budget conscious backpacker, I know how to pinch pennies, eat local and sleep wherever the lack of dollars allows. But there are times when a splurge is necessary. Oludeniz, Turkey is not necessarily a backpacker friendly beach but with the power of two (my sister and I) great deals can be found! For the same price as a 14-bed dormitory in Istanbul (20 USD each), we landed a private hotel room complete with balcony, pool, and be still my heart, free soap and toilet paper! What’s the first thing I did? Laundry! You can take the backpacker outta the hostel, but you can't take the hostel outta the backpacker. |
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"Little Britain" - September 28th
If the U.S. has Mexico, then England has Turkey. Namely, Ölüdeniz, on the souther coast. My sister and I have never been so exalted for simply speaking "English"...American English that is. Every shop owner and restaurant tout gobsmacked by our "strange" accents and far away home. What, I thought? I'm just on holiday like everyone else. Or am I? Welcome to Little Britain, where all signs are posted in pounds, English Breakfast plasters every cafe front and Yorkshire Pudding is thoughtfully served with most dinners. I'll stick with a kebab thanks but ooh, that Karaoke looks fun! Bringing Proud Mary to Turkey, we rollin, rollin, rollin on a different river then the Thames. Sheesh, I love the English as much as anyone but 'dis is a bit mental'!
If the U.S. has Mexico, then England has Turkey. Namely, Ölüdeniz, on the souther coast. My sister and I have never been so exalted for simply speaking "English"...American English that is. Every shop owner and restaurant tout gobsmacked by our "strange" accents and far away home. What, I thought? I'm just on holiday like everyone else. Or am I? Welcome to Little Britain, where all signs are posted in pounds, English Breakfast plasters every cafe front and Yorkshire Pudding is thoughtfully served with most dinners. I'll stick with a kebab thanks but ooh, that Karaoke looks fun! Bringing Proud Mary to Turkey, we rollin, rollin, rollin on a different river then the Thames. Sheesh, I love the English as much as anyone but 'dis is a bit mental'!
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The Cotton Castle - September 27th
I’ve never been to Russia but I’ve been to Turkey’s famed Pamukkalle…and that was close enough. Russian supermodels posing next to travertine cascades, blowing kisses to camera and reminding women like me just how average we are. Ha ha, 6 pack of abs…I’ve got a 6 pack of beer. Pamukkalle, or as I like to call it, Pama Koolaid, is a naturally formed cascade of terraced calcite. The beautiful travertine pools found on each terrace said to have medicinal and aesthetically pleasing properties. Finding a private pool is near impossible but if you can look pass the models, banana hammocks and Turkish David Hasselhoff’s (on-site guards who blow whistles at those who tread in restricted pools), you’ll experience one of Mother Nature’s greatest sights! Suck it in Reg... Suck it in! |
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EPHESUS - September 26th
“If you want to see Greek history, go to Athens. If you want to see Roman history, go to Rome. If you want to see Ottoman history, go to Istanbul. If you want to see all three, come to Ephesus, Turkey!” Greco-Roman meets Persian-Ottoman in the world’s most complete ancient metropolis!! Once the capital of Roman Asia Minor, second only to Rome, Ephesus dates back to 10 B.C.!! It is a historical, cultural, architectural, religious and archaeological amalgamation of empires forged and forgotten over thousands of years of war! The remains of Pagan temples, Christian churches, Roman Coliseums, and the mandatory brothel, all representing the changes of empire! But Ephesus has fallen for the last time to the strongest civilization of all…TOURISTS! Armed with point and shoot cameras, HD video recorders and gold, i.e. tourist dollars, we are unstoppable. Alas, the price paid to be one of the most pivotal cities in history. In honor of Ephesus (Efes), I will finish my day, and blog post, with a salutatory Turkish beer. An appropriately named, Efes! şerefe! |
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TURKISH BATHING - September 25th
Remember when you were a kid and bathing at the same time, in the same porcelain tub with siblings was normal? Well you don’t have to be a kid in Turkey to experience the same bubbly fun! Turkish bath houses, or hamams, are similar to spas, with a focus on bubbles, exfoliation and nudity. Imagine Big Momma Turk in ultra-small string bikini kindly asked you to drop your towel, baring all for her hands-on bathing experience. Lying on a warm marble slab in the center of the large, octagonal room, Big Momma scrubbed me raw. Tiny skin worms appeared all over the exfoliated areas, removing half my tan and reminding me just how dirty and dead skin-lific I am. Next, the bubble bath (my fav part). Dowsing a soft towel in a bucket of magic liquid, Big Momma squeezed the heavenly fabric over my body and bubbles came pouring out. Using these bubbles as a, “massage oil”, Big Momma rocked my world with a full body massage. Every stroke of her hand gliding on the bubbles felt like a thousand down feathers caressing my skin. Next, shock treatment. A dip in a cold, cloudy pool with other recently rejuvinated ladies followed by hot sauna, final wash, and “lady, you done”. All of this in the company of other nude women known for oh, t-minus 10 seconds. I’ve never felt closer to my sister…or Big Momma Turk!! |
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TASTE FOR TURKEY - September 24th
Blue Mosque…Not as “Blue” as I thought. Quite cheery really…Ba dum dum. Visited a 4th century church come mosque come museum - not sure to kneel or bow, sing or chant, snap photo or listen to audio guide, Ay Yay Yay, Aya Sofia you are one ambivalent beauty! Tried to find a Sultan in Topkapi Palace but only portraits of old, rather large men adorned in bling bling remain. Settled for the most expensive non-alcoholic drink of my life…Turkey’s famed Serbetth. Must be fit for a sultan at the price! Ducked into the underground water supply, the famed Basilica Cistern, to face Medusa…and not be turned into stone. Cruised across the Bosphorus on the quickest and cheapest method from Europe to Asia. 15-minute ferry and 1 Euro is all it takes to travel from Constantinople to Anatolia. Onto the spice market for endless free samples of ooey gooey Turkish Delight and how bizarre to spend hours in Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar? Days, weeks, months can pass in this incredible city and you’ll still find more! Come hungry for history with a taste for Turkey!! |
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TURKISH PICTIONARY - September 23rd
Turkish coffee is small, strong and packed with powerful properties…and I’m not talking about the caffeine! The art of reading coffee grounds is as old as coffee itself. The thick sludge remaining at the bottom of your cup said to forecast your future. As Turkish tradition goes, once your cup is finished, place it upside down on the saucer and let the coffee grounds run down the side. Once thoroughly cooled, flip it right side again and let the fun begin - The shapes and patterns created each carrying deeply symbolic meanings. This was today’s cup. I know what I see and I’ve done my research as to the meaning, but what do you see? I'll let you know the meaning behind your reading. It's kind of like Turkish Pictionary. |
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COUCHSURFING OR PUB SURFING? - September 21st
New York, London, Paris, eat your heart out! Walking down all 3 km’s of Istanbul’s famed Istiklal Caddesi Street, you could be anywhere in the world. Hijab or heels, punk or preppy, piercings or pearls all funneling down a smooth and slightly marbleized street in pursuit of high dollar shopping, grand galleries, ritzy café’s, pubs and posh nightclubs. Diving into cobbled side streets, more establishments abound, one in particular to host an Istanbul Couchsurfing Pub Night. Where else in the world can you meet a modern day Forest Gump, walking 6 marathons in 6 days for charity, a Syrian English teacher who escaped his countries madness in Turkey while his family found refuge in Lebanon, a chica from Azerbaijan (yes, that’s a country), a nomadic South African, bamboo building, cocktail king, England’s own, Big Ben, a traveling Nebraskan come Georgian, i.e my beautiful sister and a real Turkish Delight…Hussein. Our nights impromptu host who showed us the famed street in local fashion - Expressing his Turkish pride over G & T’s and spirited banter. The only person missing…the Couchsurfing host who arranged the event. Thanks anyways dude! Backpacking doesn’t get much better!!! |
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THE CITY THAT NEVER SLEEPS - September 19th
First proper night in Istanbul with my not so proper Aussie partners in crime, Dave and Andy, goes down in the backpacker books! Tried to crash a Turkish wedding and found ourselves in their, “Just Married”, Vintage Ford convertible instead. Onto the Orient Bar for more rounds of Efes and a surprise birthday party - My surprise birthday party. Thanks to Dave’s little white lie, “un”birthday, was celebrated in faux fun form with tabletop fireworks, flaming shots, arm wrestling and an unforgettable gift from the bartender. 1 condom, 1 bar of soap and 1 cigarette. - To be used in that order. 4am sneaks up quick…Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Ouch, Ouch, Ouch. Head still pounding in the city that never sleeps! |
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THE JOYS OF TRAVEL - September 18th
Delayed flight, sopping wet backpack upon arrival and time eating-cost saving bus/subway/tram waltz to famed Sultanahmet Square. 10pm and kebab is calling almost as loud as Turkish men, my hostel is just up the road...or is it?!? Booked on hostelworld.com this alleged cream of the crop, 100% rated hostel doesn't even exist! Word on the street, it was an illegal operation and shut down! Argh. That's what I get for trying to book ahead. New place locked in just after 11pm, 14 bed-dorm, snores and gas bombs, sleep was minimal. Awoke to "free" breakfast on the terrace and killer views! Let the next grand backpacking adventure begin!!! |