Trip highlights

SUMMARY

Number of knocks on room door after midnight: two. The first time was in Tarti on Lesvos, from a drunken and amorous fisherman who taught us the very useful word "malaga". The second time was at Snow's Otel in Kars (see separate post).

Favorite Greek swear word: "malaga." In the dictionary, it means massage. Everybody knows it refers to palmar onanism. It's used in the same manner as "sh*t" is used in English, and intonation is everything. Once we learned the word, we heard it all around us.

Favorite ice cream: Algida Essence (small, chocolate covered vanilla ice cream with a chocolate cookie layer), Algida Choco-Disc (for the full cornetto experience with lots of chocolate and caramel), or Magnum Classic (much like a Dove var). Ice cream chests are as ubuquitous in Greece and Turkey as Starbucks are in the US, and with over 3 dozen choices it's useful to have a favorite picked out in advance.

Favorite specialty desserts: beaten dondurma and iznik pişmaniye. Beaten dondurma, best exemplified at the Mado in Antakya (http://www.antakyamadoevi.com/), is made with orchid root flour as the thickener. At the Mado, it's ordered by just about every other customer, comes in a slice, and is eaten with a knife and fork. It's not as sweet as regular ice cream. Pişmaniye is a cotton candy like substance with a bit of pistachio and wheat flour added to the mix. The name comes from the work pişmani meaning "regret".

Longest stay: About 9 days in Santorini (Teresa's favorite) and 14 days in Ayder (Jim's favorite).

Friendliest guy ever: Ramazan in Coşandere

Friendliest innkeeper: Stratos in Tarti on Lesvos

Best sunsets: Santorini, of course

Best hikes: a tie between the calderimi on Santorini and the Büyükdenizgöl in the Kaçkars.

Most "Lonely Planet" moment: dancing the horon to the tulum at the Doğa Harikası Pansiyon in Ayder. The tulum is a bagpipe-like instrument with two reeds and 6 tones (G to E). The horon is the dance of the Laz people in Northeastern Turkey, with everyone holding hands in a circle. We were all just sitting around drinking tea on the porch after dinner when Gürkhan, our innkeeper, started to play his tulum with not much ado. Soon people came in from the streets and the circle got larger and larger. The tune is in an asymmetric 5/8 beat. Şaban, our other innkeeper, called out the moves, which everyone knew. The whooping and dancing went on until suddenly the power failed and the lights went out.

Things Teresa hasn't done for two months: study veterinary medicine (studied Turkish language instead), operate flying machines

Things Jim hasn't done for two months: work, play hockey

Things we are taking home with us: a dress from Rhodes and a traditional skirt from Ayder, one pair each of traditional Ayder wool socks, three children's books in Turkish

Things I wish I brought: a computer for information and entertainment, Teva sandals
Things I am glad I brought: iPod packed with podcasts; Leatherman for occasional veggie slicing,
Things I brought but did not need: cosmetics

Ayder: Going home soon

There's about a week left of the trip, and our thoughts are turning homeward.

Already, we have a list of things that we are looking forward to. This especially includes a burrito for Jim and Thai food for me.

My grasp of the Turkish language is at its apogee, which still isn't very much, but I'm a bit sad knowing it will soon sift away like a handful of sand.

I sometimes try to imagine what my Turkish sounds like to native speakers:
"Very nice, very nice!" ("çok güzel") - used about a hundred times a day in a very Borat way
"Thank!" ("teşekkur!" It should really be "teşekkuler" or "teşekkur ederim" but I run out of steam at about 3 syllables)
"I am wanting to ... " - the verbs are such a muddle that I just use the present progressive by default

We will be flying from Trabzon to Istanbul on the 15th on Pegasus Air, then from Istanbul via Frankfurt to San Francisco on Lufthansa on the 16th. I hear that the Bay Area is aflame.

Kars: Snow's Otel ... 's no hotel!

Kars, July 4th 2008

The tourism infrastructure is not extensive in Turkey, and especially along the Black Sea coast,
the guidebooks all warn against "natasha" hotels. We may have stayed at one or two without knowing it, and in any case what's really the harm in some other room being used for a trick or two? So we weren't overly concerned about it, but of course always asked if the establishment was a "family hotel" (aile otel).

So far, we've had pretty good luck with lodging during our travels, and aside from perhaps the occasional loud disco, leaky toilet, predatory manager, or damp tomblike cement basement, we've managed to get a decent night's sleep everywhere we went.

In the smudgy pucker that is the city of Kars, the exception was met.

We had taken most of the day to drive to Kars, going from the mistladen mountaintops of Ayder to Pazar, along the Black Sea coast to Hopa near the Georgian border, over the Cankurtaran pass to Ardahan, up the river valley past Artvin, through the national forest surrounding Şavşat, then over another small pass into the high plains. Here were wild horses ambling, herds of cattle grazing, tent settlements blooming like mushrooms overnight, old women crossing the road with flocks of geese, and one-horse carts rattling alongside the highway.

We kept an eye out for suitable sojourns, and had already passed by well-turned-out motel near Şavşat. I wanted to find something before we reached the city of Kars, and like an godsend there appeared a large new hotel proudly emblazoned with three stars, next to the highway 10 kms from the city. SNO 'S OTEL, the letters read, the W having fallen off. It is a three-story concrete structure painted in warm culinary pastels - lemon, custard, and avocado. So what if the stars might have been self-awarded? At first sight it certainly looked comfortable, quiet, and respectable.

We entered the lobby, which was new and tastefully decorated, including a large painting of a triumphant sultan entering the gates of the city, banners flying, and vanquished Crusaders littering the foreground. There were half a dozen men in hotel employee uniforms, and they soon summoned what appeared to the manager. The boss looked like he stepped out of the frames of a film noir. His upper incisors are gone leaving a wide gap between two short canines, and his frequent smile is at once alarming and disarming. He had on an immaculate white shirt beneath a dark pinstripe suit, and the outfit was completed with impeccably shined black leather ankle boots with tapered toes and a row of small buttons up the side. We must have appeared just as curiously outfitted to them, in our T-shirts, jeans, and khakis. He spoke passable English and gestured us to sit for a cup of tea.

There we sat in the salon, beneath the gaze of the triumphant sultan, and said mostly nothing. We watched the flickers on the flatscreen TV, sipped tea, nibbled at cherries, and talked only infrequently. The essential facts escaped periodically into the air like puffs of cigarette smoke - yes, we're from America; yes, we need a room for the night; yes, Turkey is beautiful; yes, we're going to Ani tomorrow. We mirrored his companionable silence and waited patiently. Finally, he asked if we'd like to see the room. Up we went in the tiny elevator that barely fit 3 persons. The room was viewed, the price was set, the passports were handed over, and we were set. When one of the attendants was posted on our floor and seemed almost to follow us around, we thought nothing of it.

So far, so good, and we were rather pleased with ourselves to have come upon a relatively peaceful oasis in the middle of desolate plains. We drove the 10 kms to Kars city, peeked inside the Georgian church, clambered up to Kars castle, and came back to settle in for the night.

The excitement started around midnight. The disco had started early but we were used to that by now. Then we heard raised voices outside our door, footsteps to and fro. There were several knocks on our door. I asked Jim to wedge a chair under the door. The phone kept ringing.

The sequence of events were now cast in a more sinister light. While we were sipping tea in the salon, was the boss waiting for Jim to begin negotiations on the "merchandise"? After all, why else would one bring a Japanese girl to a hotel if not to make some profit? Was our man not so much a floor attendant but our personal sentry posted at our door by the boss, once he realized we were hapless tourists that needed protection?

Our sentry scolded the rowdies away from our door. We heard the clicking of high heeled shoes, a woman giggling, then a brief cascade of moans next door followed by shower sounds. Now came another set of male voices, more insistent and authoritative. It was the jandarma. Our sentry knocked on the door and announced "hotel servis." For him we opened the door. The two jandarma, in fatigues with machine guns slung over the shoulder, had a looked inside the door and, seeing our startled and grumpy faces, were satisfied and left. What were they looking for, we wondered. Illegal migrants? Unauthorized working girls? Or were they just curious about the American tourists? Whatever it was, their presence seemed to have put an end to the incessant banging around outside. An hour later, their jeep was gone, the music finally died down, and we managed a few hours of fitful sleep.

The next morning, we decamped very quickly and, waving off several solicitous offers of breakfast, and jumped in the car to put as much distance between us and Snow's Otel as we could, as fast as we could. We drove over crumbled roads to the remote ruined city of Ani, the ancient Armenian capital that once had 100,000 inhabitants. There, amidst the sun-scorched thistles swarming with gnats, I had a John Woo moment in the dark hull of a church with the dome missing and the dressed facade crumbled away revealing the rubble core of the walls. The light was just so as sooty swallows swirled and keened. On the highway out of Kars, past the hotel, we didn't stop to take a souvenir photo, but merely snapped a quick shot through the windshield.

P.S. We were stunned to find their website: http://snowsotel.com/

P.P.S. The constrast between the Lonely Planet description of Kars and what we found provides a benchmark of the insane optimism of that publication.    "Subtle charms" my foot!

P.P.S.  Even though Kars is grim, dull, and dreary, it is intensely atmospheric and the mood gets under your skin.   After returning home, I started reading Orhan Pamuk's "Snow."   Here's a passage from the book that captures the desolation and despair:

someone had written the lines that Ka would incorporate into “All Humanity and the Stars,” the poem he would write tomorrow while sitting in the Lucky Brothers Teahouse:

Even if your mother came down from heaven to take you into her arms,

Even if your wicked father let her go without a beating for just one night,

You’d still be penniless, your shit would still freeze, your soul would still wither, there is no hope!

If you’re unlucky enough to live in Kars, you might as well flush yourself down the toilet.

Ayder: Büyükgöl

Today was another big hiking day. Today's destination was Büyükgöl, just beyond Yayla Avusor. Our hiking companion is Ali Riza, the young man who works at the Pansiyon.

Again, we drove the car up as far as my lily-liver would allow. Then we parked and walked. This road was not as well plied with minibuses as yesterday's, and we only saw one dolmus and no tourist groups. At the village we stopped for tea and asked for directions. Ali, age 25, had just finished his military service, and though he smokes a pack of cigarettes a day, he can also smoke me on the trails any day. He sets a fast tempo, and we head up the hills. With each gain in altitude, Jim's grin gets wider, until it reaches its five-beer width. Here, he is truly in his habitat.

Halfway up, we came across a high-altitude soccer playing field, with improvised goalposts, boundaries scratched into the grass, and a few rocks still embedded in the turf. The fast-moving streams, the meadows, the glacial moraine, and the wildflowers were as mesmerizing as yesterday. There were rhododendrons, but not in giant fields. This time, we could see across the lake. We picnicked at the top, but it was chilly and we soon descended back out of the clouds. In Chinese mythology, the gods lived on the clouds, and this indeed felt heavenly. (Jim comments: those Chinese gods must be cold and wet!)

The hike was capped off with a nice round of muhlama (Turkish fondue) at Y. Avusor. This valley is mostly setteld by the Laz people, who are distinguished by beaked noses that outshine even the Turks. An older gentleman sat with us for a chat, and his proboscis could have hosted a good flock of birds. We headed back down after 5 hours of tramping, tired and happy. In Ayder village, we stop for grilled corn. An excellent day!

Ayder: hiking, choked gazelles

7/1

We had a big day today. All the restless energy from being cooped up yesterday was unleashed. We got up early and headed for the hills. Taking the car as far as the road was good, we parked it and walked the rest of the way. The hiking plan is simple in these parts: just follow the river up, up, up, until you reach the lake. Today's lake is Büyükdeniz Göl, just beyond Yayla Yavrun.

We walked up the road for about 6km to reach Y. Kavrun. We were passed by a good dozen minibuses, and the obligatory caravan of Israeli adventure tourists. The Israeli group tours seem to dominate the tourist population here. There are very few Western independent tourists here. At Y. Kavrun we saw our first bona fide yayla village, with very simple wooden houses and cattle wandering all about. Our map is wildly not to scale but we headed in the general direction of Büyükdeniz Göl.

There isn't much of a trail but the alpine meadows are mostly easy to cross, so we just headed up the river. As the fog rolled in and the terrain became rocky, the path became less clear and we were lucky to run across another hiking trio. The father, Yusuf, is a wheat farmer who grew up running all over these very hills, the son Ali works in Izmir, and the daughter-in-law Esma is a nurse. They invited us to tag along. As we ascended, the air became thinner, and we came across giant fields of rhododendron. Back home, rhododendrons are nice but hardly breathtaking. But this was spectacular. With the roiling mists, the whitewater cascading over boulders, and the saturated colors of the wildflowers upon the green meadows, the setting was like something from Akiro Kurosawa's movie "Dreams."

We spread out into a single file, with Yusuf leading. After he asked us our ages and told us he was 65 years old, he seemed to pick up the pace in demonstration of his strength. Jim was next, then me, and Esma and Ali brought up the rear. Children of any age seem to regress when they are with their parents, and they not infrequently asked "Baba, daha ne kadar?", or "Dad, are we there yet?"

Although we were conserving our words due the exertion and thin air, as the landscape became more and more beautiful, we all broke out in exclamations of admiration, saying "çok güzel!" This sounds a lot like "choke gazelle," and soon Jim and I were speculating on how many gazelles must suffer by the end of the day.

After about two hours we reached the lake. It was not frozen, but there are patches of snow here and there. With the mist, we could not see more than 10 meters from the shore, so its lakeness was taken on faith.

The descent was much easier, and we ended the day with an open-buffet feast at the Yesil Vadi Restaurant.

Ayder: rain

The Kaçkars get 250 rainy days a year, and this is one of them.

Activities for a rainy day:
- cooking
- playing Klondike on my iPod (just now discovered it)
- reading whatever books we can get our hands on
- chatting with the guy who works at the pansiyon
- blogging at the internet cafe

The reading material is getting to be rather slim pickings:
- Cosmopolis by Don DeLillo - too too pretentious
- Atonement by Ian McEwan (as seen in the movies)
- The good book (great for displaying prominantly on bedstand in Greece; not much mileage here)
- A biography of Abraham Lincoln

The heavens have opened and the rain is pouring down down down

Ayder: Ekodanitap, Schmekodanitap

We walked in the tea-plantation hills above Ekodanitap for 4 hours in the morning. The road is surprisingly well paved for such a remote area. We saw two tea gathering stations.

Midway through our walk, a caravan of SUVs passed by, with stickers reading "Medraft" on the doors. Later, when one of the SUVs broke down, we talked to them. They were adventure tourists from Israel, startlingly incongruous in this setting. Not that we fit in any better. So, like tropical birds meeting in a pine forest, we flapped our garish wings and flew off in opposite directions.

Kaçkar Mountains; Çamlihemşin and Ayder

We are now in Ayder, a village inside the Kaçkar Mountain National Park. The narrow road is cut into the side of a steep grassy slope, and there are lodges and restaurants on either side. Cows are free to graze and their bells tinkle with each lumbering step. The blue-grey, snow-covered peaks beckon from a distance.

We stayed one night at the Serender Pansiyon, then moved over to Ecodanitap where we will be under the wing of Mehmet.  Mehmet is an enterprising fellow who runs Turku Turizm, Ecodanitap, Fora Pansiyon, and more.

The Kackars are often compared to the Alps.  For me it invokes Yosemite.  Which is rather apropos, since I just picked up a copy of John Muir's "My First Summer in the Sierras."   In it, he recounts his adventures accompanying a dour shepherd and 2500 head of "hoofed locust" to the summer pastures in the Sierras.   There are many pages of romantic rapture at the mountain vistas and meticulate descriptions of trees.    The original tree-hugger!

PARODY OF JOHN MUIR

"We are taking a flock of sheep up to their summer pastures in the Sierra.   Today, we went up the hill, and I saw A TREE.  <3>  This was the best day of my life!  Later, we rounded up the sheep and made camp. ...  Today we went along a river, and I saw A FLOWER.  <3>  I could die right now and be happy.  ... Today we ran out of bread and everyone was surly, but I saw A ROCK.  <3>  Oh the raptures of nature are unceasing.  ...  etc. etc. etc."

EKODANITAP

Ekodanitap is the latest brainchild of Mehmet.  It is his headquarters for running his yayla (high-altitude summer pasture) tourism empire.  It's situated on a hill with a patch of tea bushes in the middle (Camelia sinensis).  At the bottom of the hill is the common area, with a kitchen, salon, restroom, and a porch.  The salon and porch have a beautiful view of the Fırtına river and valley below.  The chipboard outside is stamped "Canada, May 2007."  In the corner of the salon is an iBook G4, which I am commandeering right now while Mehmet hangs with his peeps.  Mehmet is Hemşin, and his extended family lives along the valley.

The four eco-huts are written up in Lonely Planet as being solar-powered, but really they're just connected to a solar water heater, which is pretty much standard-issue in Turkey and Greece.  They are very nice little huts, brand-spanking new, with a double bed, bathroom, and mini-living room  downstairs, and a ladder up to the loft where there are two single beds on either side of a plankwalk.  Everything is plain pine, and you can see sunlight through the walls.

We were slated to go on a trekking tour with a Canadian couple, but inexplicably they changed their minds within the course of a dinner, apparently due to "foot problems." We haven't met them, so don't know the whole story.  Now the plan is to hang out and do day hikes until a foursome arrives from Poland.  Then we'll tag along on their trekking tour.  Mehmet has kindly offered to waive the 5 person minimum for us two, but we are trying not to make him extra work if we can avoid it.

The Hemşin are ethnic Armenians who settled here in the highlands and intermarried with the Turks.  The lowlands are predominantly Las people.   Mehmet and his wife Kader made us a delicious Hemşin lunch.  There was mahlama, a fondue of cheese, eggs, milk, flour, and butter, kısır, which is like a tabouleh but with green onions, tomatoes and chili paste, and a yogurt salad that was like a tzatziki but with dill and small-leaved greens.  There was also makarna, which is basically macaroni in a tomato sauce, and sekerli makarna, which is macaroni in a sugary syrup!   This was a very nice change from the typical lokanta fare.

Mehmet and Kader have a four-year-old son, Daglar ("mountains"), who loves to play with guns.  He'll point his toy gun right at your face or jam it into the flesh of your arm and press the trigger for that satisfying click.   I think he will do well in his askerlik (mandatory 15 month military service.)  

I like to ask the young men about their askerlik, where they served, what they did, etc.  One young man, Ali, had some English skills and was stationed at Antalya outside the officers' resort.   This is what he said to trespassing tourists: "I'm very sorry.  This is a military area.  Tourists are not allowed."  

I got some comments on the blog from Robert, an American who is also travelling in Turkey.  He and his wife have taken a flat in Istanbul for a month.  It is delightful to hear from a kindred spirit!

Early in the trip, I was browsing in a bookstore and saw some lovely children's books by Mevlana Idris.  They had titles likes "The man who was losing his hair", "The man who gave away money," etc.  I picked up a 10-book set and carried them around to give as gifts, since there are always kids running around.   I think they appreciate the gesture.  To really send the kids into apoplectic fits though, I simply read from the books in my terrible Turkish.  

New friends in Çosandere!

In the morning, we set out to visit Sumela Monastery. In the lobby of Maçkam hotel, we ran into Bahri, a tall, trim, kind, and courtly gentleman. He spoke enough English for us to communicate, and we arranged for him to chauffeur us to the Monastery. The road took us up the valley, with steep slopes of granite on either side (Note: the identity of any flora, fauna, and geologica in this blog are unscientifically established and to be qualified by an unspoken "well, that's what it looked like to me") and the trout-filled stream that rushed impetuously alongside. Once in the clear mountain air, we decided to spend the whole day there and managed with gestures, scribbles, and broken phrases to let Bahri know that he didn't have to wait for us.

The Monastery is most impressive from a distance, where it seems to cling to a sheer rockface. Once inside the courtyard, it appears quite cozy, with dormitories, a library, and a fresco-covered cave church. Much of the structure is off-limits, though, and we did not spend more than an hour there. We clambered down the steep footpath to the hotel at the parking lot, and continued along the road back toward Maçka town. It was a beautiful day, with the sun playing peekaboo behind cooling clouds, and a stiff breeze coming up the valley. We walked on the road along the stream for 12 km, all downhill, and just when my stomach was getting grumbly, came upon a fish restaurant.

We ordered fresh trout and salad and sat back to enjoy our streamside perch, especially the burbling bass notes.

This was where we met Ramazan, a most engaging young man with twinkly blue eyes and a sunny smile. After he brought us our food, we started in conversation, and then he asked us to stay a night with his family. We were delighted and agreed to come the next day.

The evening we spent with Ramazan and his extended family was the highlight of our trip.

... to be continued

Trabzon: The sea, the sea

We flew into Trabzon last night and are now in Sumela. We visited the Sumela Monastery this morning. We rented a car and are now mobile!

The Black Sea Coast is a lot like Northern California. The evil orb no longer pummels us with invisible rays.

We stopped at a restaurant in Cosandere and had fresh trout. We met a young Turk named Ramazan who was so excited to practise his English he invited us to stay at his home for tomorrow.

Jim just got a haircut and shave and is smooth-cheeked and happy!

Antakya: Holding pattern; movies

We're still in Antakya, in the holding pattern until we get to Trabzon and then the Kackar Mountains.

I'm in a bit of a mid-trip slump.

I just finished reading the Poisonwood Bible. It was intense and absorbing, especially the description of the unrelenting struggle for survival in the Belgian Congo, and the family dynamics of a mother and four daughters held hostage by their raving lunatic of a patriarch, a Baptist preacher. A beautiful, tragic, moving story.

Now I have "My Antonia" and "The Sound and the Fury" lined up. I had no idea Faulkner wrote in stream-of-consciousness, which makes reading feel like work. Well, at least it's shorter than James Joyce's Ulysses.

We watched a movie on TV last night that was in Cantonese with Turkish subtitles. It was kung-fu slapstick and spaghetti western called "Kung-Fu Hustler." Absolutely hilarious. It's set in a village whose leader is a sturdy, no-nonsense matron who periodically goes out into the square to chew everybody out, clad in a billowy white peignoir and hair rollers, with a cigarette dangling from her mouth, and a permanent scowl. She also has amazing kung-fu and her specialty is the lion roar, which blasts everything in sight. Due to a trivial provocation, the village comes under attack by a group of fedora-wearing, hatchet-swinging bad guys. The villagers would cringe and hide until they are pushed to the brink, then one of them would finally step up and reveal his or her kick-ass moves and crush the opposition. This happens several times, with the mafia types hiring increasingly lethal assasins, including a pair of blind zither-players and a guy in underwear and slippers from the insane asylum. Meanwhile, the lead bad guy gets over a humiliating childhood episode, finds the goodness in his soul, fights for the village, gets the girl, and opens a candy store.

Great movie, but now I wonder how many of these movies the Turks have been watching and if that's their primary mental association when they gawk at me walking in the park. I just might have to startle someone by breaking into a flamingo stance with a Bruce Lee chicken-squawk.

The TV selection consists of Turkish programs (news and drama), plus two channels of American movies and dramas (TNT and NBC), an Arabic channel (MBC), and random movies in German and last night, Cantonese. There's a channel that shows nature programs with no sound. And of course, all UEFA futbol matches are faithfully broadcast live with pre- and post-game analyses.

Last night, I also caught the latest episode of Desperate Housewives, which made me *very* happy. It was the first time Jim's watched it, and his summary is "a show with multiple, very easy to follow, obvious storylines." Also I watched Smallville for the first time.

Jim has never seen the original Christopher Reeves Superman movie! By golly, it's like he grew up on Mars!

The plan

We have a plan! Monday we fly to Trabzon, where I can shout "thalassa, thalassa" in echo of the 10,000 led by Xenophon as recounted in the Anabasis. A day trip to Sumela Monastery follows. Coincidentally, the monastery was featured in a book we picked up at the pension in Rhodes. "The Testament" by Eric van Lustbader (can it be a real name?) is a "Da Vinci Code" copycat thriller that is so bad it was good.

After Sumela, we'll be off to Ayder in the Kackar Mountain National Park. Both of us are done with zipping around so we'll be there for at least a week. This makes our trip a "Four Corners" tour of Turkey.

Turkey advances to semifinals

Last night, Turkey played Croatia to see who would advance to the UEFA semifinals.

Turkey played well but Croatia a bit better, yet the score stayed at 0-0. The game went into second overtime.

As the excitement mounted, wedding guests in crisp suits and sparkling cocktail dresses from a party on the mezzanine filtered into the lobby of the Büyük Antakya Hotel.

With ten minutes to go in second overtime, Croatia scored a goal. The crowd held its breath and leaned toward the flat screen TV. With ten seconds to go, Turkey scored to tie at 1-1. The crowd leaps up with a holler. The game would now be decided by shootout.

Turkey wins the shootout. On the screen, the Croatian players are kneeling, clutching their heads, in tears. Jim's new friend leans over and says, "now everybody will go out into the street."

People stream out from every hotel, restaurant, shop, apartment block waving flags and singing. They clump around a few epicenters, of which our hotel appears to be the largest. Within minutes a master of ceremonies appears on the terrace to lead the chants. To me it sounds like " blablabla... TURKIYE, blablabla... TURKIYE." Between chanting, techno-Turk disco music booms. In the throng, instruments of jubilation appear out of nowhere - bass drums, tom toms, bongos, a trumpet, fireworks. And of course, flags everywhere - a sea of red. Our new host hands us sparklers and offers us tea.

After an hour or so of chanting and singing and dancing, the parade begins to form. Everyone know what to do. The vehicles ply a well worn track around downtown Antakya. There are motorcycles, cars, and trucks. Celebrators lean out of windows and sunroofs; horns are blaring. This goes on until 3am.

Turkish language

FUN WITH TURKISH

One nice thing about the Turkish language is that spelling is completely phonetic - what you see is what you get. Especially fun is the precise parsimony of Turkish when adopting foreign words, to wit:

feribot
motoryat
tren
makyaj (from French: maquillage = make-up)
mayo (from French: maillot = swimsuit)

Another nice thing about Turkish, if you're into Scrabble, is that it's full of two-letter words, for example:

ev - house
iş - work
eş - spouse
en - most
on - ten
at - horse
ve - and
iç - inside

USEFUL TIPS

When I'm offered tea for the 10th time today, and I've already had 20 cups, the most effective deflector I've found is:
"yok yok, sağ ol".

By the way, shortening sağ olun to sağ ol subtly signals that a not unsubstantial period of time has transpired since one had gotten off the boat.

MONEY TALK

The Turkish Lira was replaced with the New Turkish Lira (Yeni Türk Lira, or YTL) a few years ago. Storekeepers will often quote prices in old lira, so that 1 YTL is bir milyon and 2.50 YTL is iki milyon beş yüz. To discuss prices in new lira, YTL is pronounced "yeh-teh-leh."

MORE USEFUL WORDS
next week: gelecek hafta
this week: gerede hafta
last week: geçen hafta

GEZMEK? EKMEK!
We pick up a good number of hitchhikers while driving the rental car. The conversation is usually short, mostly to establish where one is going, where one is from, and so on. One farmer continued by asking "gezmek?" Since my dictionary was in the trunk, I could only smile and shrug. Jim was undeterred, and countered with the favorite word in his limited armamentarium: "gezmek? Ekmek!" This was delivered with a big grin and while pointing to the loaf of bread in the back seat.

Later we looked it up, and learned that gezmek means to tour or wander about. This proved to be a useful word with which to greet the natives while poking around their backyards.

Day whatever: Antakya

OK, I'm stopping this day-counting nonsense. From now on we are carried on the wings of the wind.

From Rhodes we hit the road and went all the way to Eastern Turkey. The exact route will be kept inside the sausage. We are now in Antakya. The city was known as Seleucia-on-Orontes to the Romans, and the region was Cilicia. Jim wanted to see how things change as one gets closer to the Syrian border. So far, it's still well drenched in the glaze of relentless Turkish modernization that is thickly spread throughout the land. We hear that the coastal town of Samandag might be different.

My new read is "The Poisonwood Bible" by Barbara Kingsolver. It's about the family of a Baptist preacher who were carried along with him and the almighty word of God to postcolonial Congo.

In Adana and in Antakya there are few tourists around. Here one doesn't feel like chum thrown to the sharks, like in Sultanahmet, Fira or Rhodes. When we ask for directions, they walk with us there. It feels nice to be a guppy again, swimming amongst friendly fins.

Rhodes was interesting - lots of Crusader history from the Knights of St. John. It's a well-maintained medieval walled (and moated!) city with a labyrinth of cobbled and arched alleys. Much fun was had getting lost and then coming upon a familiar vista.

The game is 0-0 at 46 minutes. All business is ceased and people are gathered around widescreens. Time to go find Jim.

UEFA 2008

The UEFA 2008 soccer tournament is in full swing. It explainly in part why there aren't as many visitors here right now as in the past few years. Jim studies the sports pages and watches the key games. He chats to tavernkeepers about points and brackets, which teams play rough, and which goalkeepers are playing well. Last night, Turkey mounted an impressive comeback against Czechoslovakia and scored 3 goals in the last 20 minutes.

The plan as it stands now is to take a seaplane to Rhodes, then a ferry to the tiny island of Kastelorizo (where the movie Mediterraneo was filmed), another ferry to Kas in Turkey, then either overland or by sea to Antalya.

If you're reading this and would like a postcard, email your address to me at lutheroglu@thusly.com!

Guidebook Miscellanea

A few notes to pass onto Lonely Planet:

FERRIES

In Istanbul, the ferry boat to the Prince's Islands (Adalar) now leave from a completely different dock.

To get from Bergama to Mitilini by ferry, there are now departures from Dikili as well as Ayvalik. The bus ride to Dikili is faster, the ferry boat is larger, and the fare is lower. However, Ayvalik is a prettier town and the ferry boat wends through an enchanting maze of islands on the way out. Jale Tours is the owner-operator of the Ayvalik ferry. The ferry from Dikili is the Constantinos.

Greek inter-island ferries have a very quick turnover at intermediate island stops. The boat barely kisses the dock and is off again in minutes. One has to be ready and waiting with bags in hand to jump off the boat. Not knowing this on our first passage, we almost missed our stop in Tinos and would have gone straight on to Piraeus.

SANTORINI

In Santorini, the calderimi (donkey trail between Oia and Fira) can be picked up from the Desalination Plant in Oia, or from Nomikos Convention Center in Fira.

There is no way to walk from Ammoudi to Armeni, and Armeni is a dock, not a beach.

KTEL Buses from Fira to Oia are reliable, but those to smaller towns like Perissa are not.

There's a walking trail from Perissa and Kamari to Ancient Thira, and thence to Profitis Ilias. There's a separate road for driving from Kamari to Ancient Thira. To walk up from Kamari, go up the cobblestone car road to the first hairpin turn. There's a car park and a hotel there, where the walking trail starts. Although the map shows one, we could not find a walking trail from Profitis Ilias down to Pyrgos.

IZMIR

To transfer from bus to plane in Izmir, take the bus to the Yeni Garaj (new otogar northeast of town), and get on the bus company's servis (free shuttle) to Gaziemir. It took us 50 minutes to reach Gaziemir. From there, it's a 5 minute cab ride (10 YTL) to the airport.

N-STAR HOTELS

A 4 star hotel in an outlying city such as Adana or Antakya is more or less equivalent to a 2 star hotel in Istanbul.


MUZEKART


There is something called the Muzekart which for 20 YTL will grant admission to museums and sites across Turkey. The website is http://www.muzekart.com. It's too late for us to get one, but it might work out well for somebody else since each museum usually costs 5-10 YTL.\


AIRPORT SHUTTLES


Many travel agencies that sell airline tickets also operate airport shuttles that aren't advertised anywhere. This can cut down travel time considerably, since one doesn't have to take a bus to the otogar or city center, then transfer to an airport dolmus. For example, we caught a shuttle for a flight departing from Adana from a travel agent in Antakya.

TURKISH LANGUAGE: see post on Turkish language, especially about the yetele

Day 27-35: Santorini

JOURNEY TO SANTORINI

A fast catamaran takes us to Paros, where we board the ferry to Santorini. This is the most tourists we've seen since Istanbul. There are people from Dutch, French, Norwegian, English. One Dutch couple waiting at the dock had sturdy hiking boots and Coolmax socks, and outfits straight from the REI or perhaps the Travelsmith catalog. Another Norwegian couple had freshly scrubbed cheeks and the insouciance of youth. A perfect place for people-watching. Jim is delighted to find the beer on the ferry served in heavily frosted glass steins.

Santorini is breathtaking. I think we will stay at least a week.

Update: Just booked tickets on Sky Express to fly to Rhodes on 6/17/08.

FINIKIA

We're staying in Finikia, a small village nestled against the slopes just on the other side of the ridge from the caldera. The guesthouse is reached by a labyrinth of cobblestone paths, where the enterprising Giorgis has painted blue arrows to point the way. After he led us to our rooms, he said he will take the donkey to get the luggage which remained in the van in the parking lot. An Australian couple from Sydney thought he was jokingly referring to his wife.

In the mornings we wake up to a view of the village and the sea. Finikia is still, as Giorgis likes to emphasize, very "traditionale," and in the stillness of the morning we hear only the bird, the breeze, and occasionally the donkey.

READING

Both Jim and I have now finished Frank McCourt's "Angela's Ashes," a tragicomic memoir of a poor, Irish, Catholic childhood. The passages with the schoolmaster and at the confessional are priceless.

I was unable to find a free book exchange here, so at the bookstore I pick out a hefty book - Tolstoy's Anna Karenina. I can see how this book can launch a thousand essay assignments. In the way that I first heard Purple Haze performed by the Kronos Quartet and only later followed the ripples back to Jimi Hendrix in the center, so I now see that I've been encountering ripples, some secondary or tertiary, emanating from this weighty tome.

Now I just have to meet some Irishmen or Russians on whom to project all this new understanding of their national psyche.

Day 26: Tinos

An early morning ferry takes us from the to the Cycladic island of Tinos by way of Chios. As we neared the island, I ask the young man next to me which island it was. He replied in hesitant English, "That's Tinos, the island of the Mother of Jesus."

We stay the night at Hotel Eliana, four stories of thoroughly scrubbed, old-time dignity. The three generations that help in the operation have all mastered one phrase in English -- "Thank you very much" -- which is used to begin and end every conversation.

We wander up to the church. At a clothing emporium there is a young man from Shanghai. In Mandarin he tells me that he's been in Greece for five years, and in Tinos for three. There are two Chinese families on the island, a total of five or six people. He seems glad of the conversation.

Back to the hotel to rest up for the journey to Santorini.

Day 25: Mytilene

We're in Mytilene tonight, in preparation for a 7am ferry (Nissos Chios of Hellenic Seaways) to Tinos. In the heat of the afternoon, what better refuge than the Archeological Museum? On the island of Lesvos and the port of Mytilene one can find an architectural pentimento of a succession of cultures, including Neolithic, Aeolian, Greek, Hellenistic, Roman, Genoese, Ottoman. The giant layer cake of history, yum.

We're staying in a modest rent-room above a lawyer's office. The lawyer is also the landlord, when he's not annotating passages in dogeared texts. It's perverse of me, I know, to continue to use the term "rent-room" from Crete (land of the Clytemnestra Rent-Room, irony not intended) although the rooms on Lesvos are actually signalled as "Domatia, Rooms to Let."

Wednesday night in Skala Eressou we went to the Sappho Garden of the Arts (http://www.sapphogarden.net/) for a musical evening with a Lynette Frances, a UK chanteuse. Jim was the singular token male in the audience. It started with a few of her own works sung to guitar with loop pedal, but then evolved into covers, sing-alongs, and eventually karaoke. Many of the women in the audience live in Skala, and they seem to know each other very well. It was nice to see them at ease and enjoying themselves in a garden of their own.

We made contact with an animal sanctuary in Skala Eressou (http://eresosforanimals.com/) run by Ann, an English expatriate. I floated the idea of coming back next year to do spays and neuters, and it was enthusiastically received.

The plan is to take the ferry to Tinos (with a stopover in Chios to take on passengers), then work our way to Santorini. From there, a seaplane flies to Rhodes, and we can make a ferry crossing to Marmaris. There is a religious event on Tinos, for which the ferry is making a special passage, but I haven't found out what it is yet. Even the agent at Avis really wanted to go, but she has a 20 month old baby that wouldn't do well on a 8 hour boat ride.

In Modern Greek, truck transport is called "Metaphoriki". As we drive around the island I keep being surprised anew by yet another metaphor flying past. Greek is fun that way -- pet food is called trophozoos.

When I look at the shimmering silver-green caparison of olive trees on the hills, I think of Greek mythology and history - Athena, Daphne, and sometimes Thucydides. Jim tells me that they evoke in him ruminations on EU agricultural policy.

We found a treasure trove of trashy paperbacks in the rent-room in Skala. Between beach, books, and baklava, I'm in heaven.

Day 21-24: Skala Eressou

And here we are at last, the erstwhile stomping grounds of Greek poet Sappho and her circle of friends, and the modern playground, according to the guidebook, of the lesbian internationale. Feminism is in the air, and I soak it up gladly.

Skala Eressou is a special place, and I would gladly return. Right now, just coming out of low season, it has just the right number of visitors to be vibrant and to support all the amenities, without the crush of high season. Skala Eressou is a mellow blend of English animal lovers, German sunseekers, expatriate artists, and the friendly locals who feed and house them with patience and cheer. There is sun, sand, history, and camaraderie.

We take a day and visit the Petrified Forest Museum in Sigri, a sleepy fishing village with the ruins of a Turkish castle. We also visit the associated "Geopark" a few kilometers away (another shiny EU project). There are proto-sequioas from a few million years ago. I get to clamber, learn something, and then sit down to a hot chocolate and pastry all in the same day.

From Lesvos you can see the Turkish coast. Apart from the Turkish fortresses at strategic points, there are vestiges of the cultural interchange from decades ago. Backgammon (tabli in Turkish, tavli in Greek) is avidly played on both sides of the straits and can be found in just about any cafe. The popular Turkish dish imam bayildi (literally, "the imam fainted", it was that good) is known simply as imam here in Greece. Both Turkish and Greek coffee have the same thick sludge at the bottom.

We will stay here until June 6th, then head back to Mitilini to catch a ferry for Tinos on June 7th. We were lucky to book this passage, which is a special voyage for pilgrims.

Day 19-21: Tavari

Tavari is on the west side of the island. The landscape is more rugged here, as a result of a long-ago volcanic outburst that coated the hills in andesite. There are a few olive trees, but not the lush carpet of the east side.

Olive production - its social, economic, cultural, and political context -is meticulously documented in the new Museum of Olive Oil Production in Agia Paraskevos. The exhibits and brochures come with a whopping dollop of buzzwords as befits a EU project. The story is really quite heartwarming - the community banded together in the 20's to build a cooperative olive oil press. Donations came from the Greek diaspora in all corners of the globe. Farmers rolled up their sleeves. The olive oil press, a gleaming monster of flashing steel and puffing steam, was a success and the proceeds were used for schools and other community projects.

Tavari is serviceable, but not the jewel that Tarti was. However, the two delightful ladies at the rent-room could not have been nicer. They feted us with fresh garden produce and homemade sweets.

Day 17-19: Tarti

We set off early (well, 11am) from Mytilini to parts unknown. The sign to Sebastian's Taberna in Tarti looked good so we pull in. It's a secluded cove with a beautiful pebble beach nestled in a valley of olive groves and surrounded by promontories of marble and schist. There are a grand total of three tavernas, a smattering of rent-rooms, and a few dozen umbrellas by the beach. We find an umbrella, a beer, a salad, then a room, in that order, and settle in.

There is a constant stream of local's at Sebastian's Taverna, now owned and operated by Stratos, son of the eponymous Sebastian. He has the able help of his wife Matina, son Isidoros, and daughter Kiki. A constant fixture is Rumsen, a musician, raconteur, and free spirit. He is usually accompanied by his wife and his eleven-year-old daughter Nineveh.

This is a beautiful, secluded beach and I am sad to leave it.

Day 16: off to the hinterland

renting SmartCar and off we go

Day 15: Mytilene

Castle

Museum

Jim's first good beer! Craft, a microbrew.

Teresa's knees see the light of day!

Day 14: Acropolis of Pergamum; ferry to Lesvos

The acropolis at Pergamum looks like something generated from the Improbability Machine (or whatever) from the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. It teeters on top of a precipice, the amphitheater nestled into the bowl of the hillside, the temple of Trajan projecting into the air on massive foundation walls. As Asterix might say, those Roman engineers are crazy!



We took the taxi to the top, and walked back down. Halfway down the hill is the Middle City, where presumably hoi polloi lived. We stumble across "Building Z", which shelters three spectacular floor mosaics in amazing condition. We followed the blue dots back into town, had breakfast, and set off for our journey to Greece.



The municipal bus takes us to Yeni Garaj, the shiny new bus station outside of town, and we board a motocoach to Ayvalik, or "Quince Orchard", a seaside town known for its olive-oil. Then it's off by ferry to Mytilene on the island of Lesbos. A 90 minute cruise just at sunset takes us into the "amphitheatrically-shaped" harbor. We walked around with our backpacks looking for a "Rent Room", then a guy on a scooter spots us and takes us to one. Arion rent-rooms has murals from Greek mythology, and we are in the "Prixos and Ellie" room.

Day 13: the Battle of Bergama

Pazar 25 Mayıs 2008

Jim is laid low by gastrointestinal distress today. It being Sunday, all the eczanes (drugstores) are closed except one. I find it and get the appropriate drug for Jim. It might also have helped that we visited the Asclepion this morning. This is the site of an ancient medical complex where Galen, the 'father of medicine' practised in his day.

With Jim flat on his back, I read about the Greek (Ionian and Aeolian) settlement of Mysia, Lydia, and Caria, and the role of Asia Minor in the history of the Roman Empire, especially in the Civil Wars. Julius Caesar, Octavian, Lucullus, Pompey, Marc Antony all came through on tour.

We did not make it to the Acropolis and the site of the temple of Zeus today, so it will have to be tomorrow morning. The good stuff is all in the Berlin Museum, but we will get a sense of the setting.

The Gobi Pension ıs popular wıth Canadians for some reason.

Off to Ayvalık or Dikili tomorrow and from there a ferry to Mytılene (Lesvos). Between the uncertainty of Greek-Turkish relations and the vagaries of free enterprise, it is hard to pin down the sailing schedule of the ferries.

Day 12: Pergamum!

Cumartesi 13 Mayıs

The bus system in Turkey is admirably efficient. There are many competing bus lines, and no published bus schedules. The bus lines connect many cities point-to-point and the trips are frequent and inexpensive. It's a free-for-all-enterprise that would make the editors of "The Economist" very proud indeed.

We travel by bus to Bergama, modern Pergamum. Pergamum, like Ephesus, was a Roman provincial capital. It was also caught up in the Persian wars. All the places that were just words on the page for me while reading Thucydides' Peloponnesian Wars are coming alive.

We spend the afternoon in the cool shelter of the Archeological museum, and save the Asclepion and Acropolis for tomorrow morning. We are stayin ga tthe Gobi Pension (http://www.gobipension.com), "Quite a very good family pension" in town.

Day 11: Ephesus!

Cumar 23 Mayıs 2008

We take the bus down to Selçuk, and transfer by dolmuş to Efes, the site of ancient Ephesus. It is one of the best preserved classical cities today. For Jim to see this as his first classical ruin is like someone seeing the Vatican as their first church, or for that matter, the Blue Mosque as their first mosque (which was the case for Jim). It's a sprawling hillside city with two amphitheaters, the library of Celsus, several temples, and an agora.

The harbor of Ephesus, unlike Izmir, silted up with time.

We had lunch in Selçuk and played backgammon (tavla). Then it was back to Izmir. The disco was quiet tonight, possibly because it was Friday, the Islamic holy day.

Day 10: Istanbul to Izmir by feribot-tren

Perşembe 22 Mayıs 2008

We get up with the sun and walk down to the Cankuratan train station for two hops to the Yenikapı ferry terminal. The fast ferry goes from Yenikapı to Bandırma, halfway down the Sea of Marmara. It is brand-spanking-new and the most luxurious ferry I've been on. The train from is Bandırma to Izmir is not too shabby either. It stops short of the downtown terminus due to construction, and we are transferred thither by bus.

Izmir is the ancient city of Smyrna, famous for its strategic harbor and canny merchants. Of the many classical city-states along the coast of Asia Minor, it is one the few that continues to flourish. This was because its geography allowed the river to be diverted thereby saving the harbor from silting up. Today it is home to some 3 million people, enough to support a local Ikea store. The people of Izmir appear friendly and industrious. Just before sunset, we walk along the Cordon next to the bay, where there are many people relaxing with friends, dogs, cigarettes, beers, backgammon, and combinations thereof.

Turkey is a nation of smokers! Women, men, young, old - they all light up at the slighest provocation. Smoking was banned in public indoor spaces starting 19 May 2008.

We find a dive hotel (the Yeteroğlu) near the train station (at which we arrived by shuttle bus) and hunker down. At night, the disco next door comes alive.

Day 9: Museum Day (sort of)

Wednesday, 21 May

The morning was spent at the Museum of Turkish and Islamic Arts, housed in the Ibrahim Pasha Palace. The palace is arranged around a tranquil courtyard with mature trees. Ibrahim Pasha was the grand vizier of Sultan Ahmet the Conqueror, whose politically energetic sultana Roxelana eventually engineered the death of Ibrahim Pasha. The museum contains beautifully curated examples of courtly calligraphy, carpets, ceramics, and other artifacts.

Jim really wanted to visit the museum of calligraphy, but it was closed indefinitely. In the Beyazit Square, we met a retired agronomist who is a friend of the city cats. He knows them individually and brings them kibble (kedi mamasi), water, milk, and gentamicin eyedrops. They come running when they spot him.

At the Sirkeci train station we buy our tickets for the next destination - Izmir. We will catch the early ferry from Yenikapi to Bandirma, then a connecting train to Izmir. It arrives late afternoon, so that we can find a pension near the station.

In the afternoon, Jim went for a haircut and shave, while I returned to the Archeological museum. I lingered over the Alexander Sarcophagus. At one point, a bunch of schoolgirls came up excitely and started taking pictures of me with camera phones and asking me if I spoke Turkish and what my name was. Is this what it's like to be a celebrity? So strange.

I'm picking up some Turkish. It's interesting for me because it's a completely different language family from any of the other languages I've come across, so there's no shared etymology. It reminds me most of Japanese, but not very much. The verbs are out of control - over 36 different verb endings!

One useful phrase that isn't in the books:
When asked "are you married", answer "evlendik, mutluk" (We are married and happy).

The linguist-psychologist-salesmen of Sultanahmet are amazing. They can sell a carpet or entice you into their restaurant in 20 languages. With a glance they can accurately determine the nationality of the mark and issue the appropriate greeting, be it hello, guten tag, hola amigo, konichi wa, or ni hao ma. When the neophyte tourist establishes eye contact, the next move is "where are you from", and when an answer is given, the hook is set.

Day 8: The Prince's Islands

Tuesday, May 20

The Prince's Islands (Adalar) is to Istanbul as the San Juan Islands are to Seattle - the place where urbanites escape for the weekends. We board a morning ferry with a gaggle of teenagers and visit two islands - Hinaliada and Burgazada. They are described by the guidebook as the "Armenian" and the "Greek" islands respectively, but we could not discern the subtle indicators and failed to die of culture shock.

Day 7: Independence Day

Today is Monday, 19 May, the Turkish Independence (Istiklal) day. It's a day of national celebration. We celebrated by holding a "Do Nothing Day." First we went to the docks at Eminonu and boarded the first ferry we saw. It took us to Uskudar, where we set foot in Asia for the first time. A few idle hours were whiled away at a dockside cafe. Then it was back to Europe, and up to the rooftop terrace for beer and backgammon (tavla). The rooftop terrace of the Alp Guesthouse is my favorite place for sunrise and sunset.

Day 6: Topkapi, Beyoglu

Our friends Emily and Yasser arrived, and we gave them our tour of Istanbul, including the Topkapi, the Harem, and the Cicek Pasaji in Beyoglu. The Harem is opulent, but I was sad to think of all the women held captive in the gilded cage.

Day 5: Yedikule, Kumkapi, Akbilmania 2008!

I am very pleased with myself for having learned to harness the power of the Akbil. The Akbil is a rechargeable electronic button that can be used on Istanbul trams, trains, ferries, and buses. It is the calling card of the savvy traveler. When I showed it to the innkeeper this morning to ask a question, he asked in astonishment, "Where did you get that?!" Pan to smug grin on Teresa's face.

The Akbil transported us this morning to the Seven Towers (Yedikule), at the Marmara Sea terminus of the Theodosian land walls that extend across the peninsula. This is so far my favorite daytrip, as it includes antiquity, clambering, and not one single other soul.

Tech note: my Palm PDA is running out of juice, but the hotel management has kindly allowed me to use their lobby computer. Much more wordy now, aren't I?

Day 4: Hagia Sophia, Blue Mosque, Beyoglu

The morning was spent at the Blue Mosque (Sultanahmedi Camii) and the Hagia Sophia (Ayasofia). These were swamped with tour bus "bucket listers."

The local currency is the New Turkish Lira (Yeni Turk Lira, or YTL), which Jim promptly christened the "Yertle".

In the afternoon, we branched out of the Disneyesque Sultanahmet and went across the Golden Horn to Beyoglu, the site of foreign embassies and Istanbul yuppies. For the first time, we see women out on the streets.

Day 3: Topkapi, Cisterns

Day 3

We got up at 5am and went for a walk along the seawall, through Topkapi palace grounds, by the Ayasofia and Blue Mosque, and back to the hotel. . The morning hours are tranquil, with birdsong, a gentle breeze, and the bass rumble of diesel engines from the Golden Horn.

After a leisurely breakfast, we headed off to the Basilica Cisterns (Yerebatan Sarnici). These were built in the Byzantine era to store water which wouldn't be poisoned by enemy soldiers. The underground cavern is mysterious and eerie. The columns were recycled from previous structures, and each one tells a story. The capitals were Corinthian, Dorian, or plain. The pylons were marble, granite, smooth, or in one cases, decorated with teardrop-shaped carvings. The bases were elaborate or plain.

The next stop was Topkapi Palace (Topkapi Sarayi), built to be an Ottoman seat of power. It would take days to see the entire place. Next to it is the Archaeological Museum, which would take weeks to take in fully. My favorites were the Hittite lions, the Alexander sarcophagus, and the inscription tablets. (Now that I know Lisa might be using this blog as history and geography jumping off points for homeschooling, suddenly there's more of both!)

By early afternoon the heat and crowds have overtaken me, and it's back to the hotel for a shower and a nap.

Day 1-2: getting there

About the blog name - it takes some brainwracking these days to come up with a unique handle. Jimandteresa is already taken, as is luther2008. I finally came up with Lutheroglu because the suffix oglu inTurkish means 'son of'.

We are finally in Istanbul after two flight delays and a resultant missed connection. We are staying at the Alp Guesthouse in Sultanahmet. All the Turkish phrases I've been studying lies fallow since almost everybody here speaks English.

Random quote - "Ah, your sister-in-law is from Hannover. Yes, that's a nice city. Not very important, but nice." - Peter, a businessman from Germany
"Lufthansa serves two snacks on this flight. Not very bad, I think." - ibid.
.
Tech note - I'm connecting on a Palm Tungsten T5 to the hotel wireless network.