Day 76 Santorini, Greece

Debra

My last blog - finally reunited with the love of my life. While I'm out galavanting around, Debra's been running a demanding events production company, taking care of our domestic affairs, and giving me her love and encouragement at every stop along the way. Now it's time, in some small way, to repay her back with a few back massages and 100% of my attention as we do some Greek island hopping over the next two weeks. Blogging has been a lot of fun. As I've written before, it has added structure and meaning to what otherwise might have been a hapless journey; it has captured for me the places I've been and the people I've met - many of whom have been permanently etched in my mind and have given me pause to think in ways I never thought before. I now have far more questions than answers and that's very rewarding. I regret not finding the time or space to share with you all the interactions I had; there were many more people whose gestures, comments, or conversations could easily have been developed into a blog deriving for me insights into some underlying condition or truth, often of an ironic nature. A few people have written me and taken exception to an observation or a conclusion that I've drawn. I say to them, "You're right." The hardest task has been to tell the truth. One is inclined to filter the selection of an event or an initial impression through one's life's experiences. As a "wanna be" roving anthropologist I'm learning how difficult it is to stick to the facts. My biases and prejudices keep getting in the way. Finally, for those of you, who, for whatever perverse reason, have been following this blog, stay tuned; I'm thinking next year I'll do India and/or Southeast Asia. So see you then - goodbye!

Day 75 Istanbul



Koran

As I was touring the underground Cistern, I met a man from San Diego, who told me, "I never give out where I'm from. I travel all over the world and I know how much we're hated. They confuse our govenment with us." This has not been my experience and, although my influence is zero, I would never deny, that I am not the government. Everywhere I have gone, people engage me in heartfelt discussions. Without rancor, they have strongly disagreed with our foreign policies. Some believe that Americans hate them and their religion. "No," I say, "In America everyone is free to practice their own religion. It's a freedom guaranteed under our Bill of Rights." That's where I lose them and I know also that I'm on shaky ground, as many in America would deny others their rights: women's right to choose, gays' right to marry, Muslims' right to build mosques, and children's right to be educated and not indoctrinated. They call us imperialists, and in someways it's true, but I point out, even here in Turkey, our greatest export, albeit poorly adopted, has been our constitution. They're clear on the concept of a democracy; the right to vote and choose. But a constitution, with a clear separation of powers, and the explicit and undeniable rights of the individual, is missing. Here, the call to prayer is at 5:45 in the morning. In Poland, the church bells ring on the hour and each half. How much carnage has been wrought to ensure that the cacophony continues? No matter who wins this battle of noises, the loser is going to be the poor guy who wants to get a good night's sleep. I wish I could say, "In America we all have a right to get a good night's sleep and that's something for which Americans are definitely willing to fight."

Day 74 Istanbul

Turkish English Class

Where has Turkey and the hundreds of acts of kindness gone? It's Istanbul! "Guide book- good price - please, make an offer. I like you, you American." "You need guide - I show you Blue Mosque -make you a very good deal." "I have carpet - hand made - you want?" Nationalities of every kind; Europeans, Arabs, Asians, Americans - a cacophony of languages, but predominately English; the crossroads of civilizations: East - West, Europe - Asia, Christian - Muslim, Rich - Poor, Past - Future. The city is buried in roving anthropologists, carefully reading their guide books, patiently standing in long lines, scrutinizing the inscriptions on the mosques; inundated in anecdotes, facts and figures, large and small. Out of the bazillion pieces of infomation is there anything to impress the folks back in Kansas? In the Topkapi Palace, one of the museums has a collection of sacred artifacts collected by the Prophet Mohammad: Moses' staff, King David's sword, and Joseph's turban. As the line approaches the staff of Moses, a German couple giggles, "Unglaublich!" Two young Arab men follow, scrutinizing the staff in great detail, demonstrating to each other that given the size of the staff, Moses must have been quite small. They reluctantly move on having been enriched and moved by this sacred artifact. My own thought was that Cecil B. DeMille had miscasted Charleton Heston in that role. Outside the Palace I meet a group of high school students. They're studying English and want to ask me some questions. I respond, "Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear or the truth?" "Tell us the truth, tell us the truth," They shouted. The worst I could come up with was, "Your transportation isn't very good." They laughed, agreeing, "But what do you think of our food - the kebab?" "Excellent!" I said. "The people? What do you think of us?" Their smiling open heartedness spoke for itself.

Day 73 Bursa to Istanbul

Venard is on the Left

Ever since I arrived in Bursa I had been trying to figure out how to get to Istandbul. Except for a spattering of words and phrases, no one speaks English. I was told to take the bus - it takes five hours but another hour to get to the station. Another said, "Take the ferry - only 1 1/2 hours," wrote down the name and location, but couldn't tell me how to get there. Near the hotel, I asked the attendant at the Metro Station, "How to get to the ferry?" "Take train number 1 to Mudanyan - it's near the sea - only twenty minutes - then the bus." "That's it," I thought. The next morning I went to the Metro Station and twenty minutes later arrived at my destination. Busses were lined up across from my stop. "This will be easy." I showed the first bus driver the slip with the name and location of the ferry. He shook his head and waved his arm in another direction. Seeing that I was confused, another bus driver came over - he couldn't speak English either. Soon there were half dozen drivers standing around, giving me advice - all in Turkish. I gave up trying to understand them and headed in the direction they were pointing. About two blocks away was a city bus stop. I decided to check with a small nearby pharmacy. The manager understood English, but was unclear as to how I to get to the ferry. He had five young ladies working for him, all started offering advice, in Turkish. They argued and debated and finally resolved that I should take bus 97 to the terminal and then another bus to the ferry. The manager wrote out the instructions in Turkish and said, "You need to go back to the first bus stop to get a ticket." There, the same group of drivers gathered around me; each reading the note the pharmacy manager had written, vigorously debating its merits. "I need a ticket," I kept saying. One of the drivers finally got it and pulled out of his wallet a well worn ticket. I looked at him in disbelief, but what could I do. I returned to the bus stop in front of the pharmacy not sure I had a valid ticket. A young boy saw me puzzling over the ticket, reached out his hand, looked at it, and gave me a thumbs up. I showed him my note and he nodded and pointed to himself indicating he was taking the same bus 97. He only spoke a few words of English but enough for me to learn his name was Venard, he was in the 10th grade, and played Soccer. Two women dressed in hijabs had been listening to our conversation and told Venard that they were going to the ferry and that I should follow them. As we waited for the bus, half an hour or so, I had time to get to know Venard, his two friends, and a variety of other characters, all of whom, had to read the note and offered advice as to its merits.

Blue Mosque, Istanbul

The bus finally came but seemed to take us back through the same area I had come by train. About a half hour into the ride, Venard, who up until then had been attentive to my needs, had to get off. The two women in hijabs motioned to me from further up in the bus that they would help me. A young, smartly dressed, woman, without a head scarf, noticed, and in the best English I had heard so far in Turkey, said, "Can I help you?" She was a journalist for the Bursa newspaper and had studied in England. I thanked her for her help and asked her what she thought of the recent constitutional referendum. Puzzled at first that I should take an interest, said, "Bad, I voted no." "Why?" I asked, remembering that Eyup had actively campaigned for it and saw it as necessary for becoming more fully integrated with the European Union. "Too much power is given the President. We will lose our civil liberities." I wished we could have talked more - she had to get off the bus and two stops later we arrived at the bus station. The two women in hijabs motioned to me to follow them into the terminal where they assisted me in buying a ticket on another bus that would now take me to the ferry. It turned out to be an hour long ride during which, for the first time in Turkey, I traveled alone and in silence thinking I probably had gone completely out of the way but couldn't have met more friendly people. As I finish writing this, I'm in Istanbul. You can take all the places I've been to, group them together, and you still would not have the city of cities - Istanbul.

Day 72 Bursa, Turkey

Eyup and Wife in Mosque

Bursa is a city of 2.5 million and so you don't expect someone to be calling your name. It was Eyup and his wife. Our paths just happened to cross as we both headed in the direction of the old town, where there's a large bazaar and several old mosques. I politely passed on entering the first mosque, at Eyup's invitation, hoping to avoid any further discussion of religion, but later I ran into them again - this time at the Yesil Mosque and decided to join them. Upon entering the Mosque the two went through the customary prayers before marveling at the beautiful caligraphic Arabic writings on the walls. "Eyup, what do these mean?" I asked. "I don't know." I found his response remarkable. He was a devout Muslim and here, perhaps, were its most profound teachings upon which the faithful could meditate, but no one could understand them. Was the sing-song call to prayer blasted from the minaret speakers, shattering one's early morning slumbers, also unintelligible - just a part of the routine, like tea and cigarettes, bland clothing, head scarfs, hijabs, and dreary rain coats? Over tea, Eyup explained, "I hope to learn Arabic when I retire. I read the Koran now in Turkish." "Why Islam?" I asked. "Because it's true." "Were your parents Muslim?" I asked. "Yes." "And your grandparents?" "Yes." "Can you really say you chose Islam then?" His answer, as one might expect, was quite involved. I wouldn't be able to do it justice here.

Day 71 Canakkali, Turkey

Abdullah before Mosque

On the bus from Gelilolu to Ecsebat, I met Abdullah, friendly, bright, and well read; a dovout Muslim; a Turkish soldier on leave to visit his wife. With hand language and very broken English, Abdulllah eagerly talked about his faith and the many grievances he and his fellow Turks had against Jews, Americans, and the West in general. His passions ran deep accusing Jews and Americans of killing millions, "kill babies" was an expression he used. "Osama Bin Laden is a CIA agent," he claimed. Earlier on in this trip, on the train between Graz and Ljubjana, I had met an Israeli soldier who had expressed, with similar passion, his grivances against Palastinians and Muslims. Both so young, not much older than Josh, caring and generous to a fault, but willing to kill in defense of their religious views. We debated the role of religion across political conflicts as we took the ferry across the Canakkali Straights into Asia and to the seaside town of Canakkali. There I had planned to catch the 12:30 bus to Bursa, but engaged, as we were, I changed to the 2:30 bus. We ate lunch, debated; browsed a couple of book stores, debated; and visited an outdoor military museum, and debated some more. "Read the Koran," Abdullah insisted, and gave me a list of other books to read as well. Although his views were disturbing, but emblematic, I surmised, of most people in this part of the world, I tried to understand his position as well as I could. The call to prayer sounded, and Abdullah said, "I need to go to the Mosque. You come with." Soon I found myself in the midst of the faithful. Abdullah and I washed our hands, feet, face, and head; removed our shoes; and filed into the Mosque, while the women, with their hands held out in a form of supplication, sat on a bench outside. Inside, Abdullah found a place where I could sit and observe while he joined the other men listening to the recorded chanted prayers - falling repeatedly to their knees, their faces to the floor. Outside we each received a lemon sweet dipped in sugar powder. I made it to my bus just in time. We promised to exchange emails.

Eyup and Wife

I had just left Abdullah and was boarding the bus when a Turkish couple, the man speaking German and assuming I needed help, checked my ticket to make sure I was on the right bus and my bags safely aboard. The man, whose name was Eyup, had lived in Berlin for sixteen years. The ride to Bursa took five hours - we had plenty of time to get to know each other. His thoughts were the same as Abdullah, "The CIA had fabricated Osama Bin Laden. 9/11 was a CIA operation. Because communism had been defeated, the capitalists needed an enemy to fight, and that enemy was now Islam." He went into a lengthy explanation as to why this was true. I asked him if this was an opinion shared by most Turks. "Yes, of course," he said. Although I found his beliefs disturbing, and I told him so, I was impressed with his congeniality and eagerness to share his opinions and beliefs without rancor. "You must read the Koran," he said. "50,000 Germans have converted to Islam." Turns out he was also a successful businessman, owned a textile firm employing 45 people and owned five houses, which made his harangue against capitalist ring a bit hollow.

Abdullah with Army Hat

It's my third day in Turkey - very different and far more confusing than Eastern Europe. The accommodations have so far been spartan-like; buses and taxis, the primary modes of transportation; people, like Abdulla, Eyup and his wife, eager to give advice; others wanting to give me a piece of candy, a piece of bread, or buy me water or tea; all wanting to help me in anyway they can; and most importantly, wishing to talk and explain what they're about. As a parting gift, Abdulla had given me his worry-beads. I had bought him a WWII Turkish army hat at the outdoor military museum. I shared a taxi with Eyup and his wife, who wanted to stay in the same hotel as I to continue our conversation, but we weren't able to find one with two rooms free. I'm not sure I would be having this experience if I hadn't been traveling alone.

Day 70 Gelibolu, Turkey

Lessons I've learned while traveling in Eastern Europe:

Communications: Avoid making phone calls of any kind. Turn off and don't buy the international AT&T's data roaming package. Turn off your voice mail to avoid incoming telemarketing charges. Stay in touch by using text messaging, email, and Skype. Stay only at hotels that offer free wifi - not a problem in Eastern Europe. Bring a cheap cell phone for texting and a cheap light-weight notebook computer for skyping, emailing, blogging, and conducting online business.

Accommodations: Don't book ahead. Wait until you arrive before determining what best meets your needs. If a hotel is booked, use that hotel to recommend and call ahead for availabliity at other hotels. Stay at smaller independent hotels, where the service is more likely to be personal and the chance to negotiate a lower rate better. Ask to see the room - should include wifi, air-conditioning, and breakfast. Try to stay in the vicinity of the train or bus station, or in the vicinity of the sights you intend to visit.

Transportation: Most comfortable way to travel is by train. The best website for schedules is http://plannerint.b-rail.be. Do not purchase a Europass - you lose flexibility and trains in East Europe are very inexpensive anyway. Busses are cheap, but often uncomfortable, and schedules in English unavailable online. Car rental is available, but usually expensive, and only if you're willing to return the car to the same place. Forget the International Driver License - they need only your U.S. license. Sometimes there's no reasonable way out of a city except by plane. I use Travelocity.com to make those reservations. Use municipal buses and subways and avoid taxis as much as possible.

Currency: To avoid bank withdrawal charges, bring cash - balanced, of course, against the risk of losing or having your money stolen. When exchanging money, shop around and exchange only at places where they report both the buy and sell rates. If the spread between the two is small, their commission is small. Wait until you arrive in the country to exchange money. At the ATM, withdraw only large amounts to avoid multiple withdrawal fees. Conduct all your transactions in the local currency. Don't trust transactions in Euros or Dollars. Do the calculations yourself.

These lessons may not apply to other parts of the world or to anyone traveling under a different set of circumstances, but they are ones that have seemed to have worked for me.