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On the plane, the tourists are decidedly older. Turkey is not the first country for Americans to visit. At least on this day, at this time of year, on this flight, there are more liver spots than backpacks
The cell phone towers and the minarets pierce the rain clouds as we drive from Ataturk Airport to the Asian side of Istanbul. Although I am sure other cities have an equal number of churches or synagogues, the minarets that announce the prayers also announce each grand dome of a mosque. With the open space that often surrounds the mosque, the people seem more religious here than in other cities.
We chose this hotel because we are taking an early flight the following morning from a different airport. After a 45 minute drive the cab driver cannot find the hotel although we provided him with instructions in Google Turkish and a map. He stops other taxis, truck drivers, and vans asking them where it might be. He almost knocks over a middle-aged woman. Pedestrians seem to be a common annoyance, like scampering roaches, and aiming for them an accepted sport. And although this is the Asian side of Istanbul, this area has a distinctly European look. It is basically a working class neighborhood on the Sea of Marmara that could be found in Spain.
We are greeted at the hotel by a very amiable young woman and the Turkish room clerk from Fawlty Tours. We are immediately plied with apricot juice and sweets. We drink and sample the food to indicate we are gracious guests. My credit cards do not work, even though I called them and told them we would be out of the country. AMEX has a new policy where they say it is not necessary to inform them of such movement. Andrea’s credit card works for some reason. The male accompanies us to the room to demonstrate how use the remote to turn on the A/C and heat but turns on the TV.
The hotel is new and modern. The bathroom is separated from the sleeping area by a wall that contains a Venetian blind between two pieces of glass. This interesting design is thwarted by an inoperable switch which is supposed to close the blind but has left the blinds in the open position. Yes, you can see what is going on and if you do not close the shades on the windows so can everyone else.
As we walk back to the front office, the owner stops us and we tell him how our credit cards did not work and the people were very kind about the situation. He becomes our new best friend and when I am on the phone with AMEX and MC, he pours some expensive cognac which I pretend it is more apricot juice since I do not drink but I cannot refuse his overture. I have not really slept in a day due to the 10 hour flight and now my knees are wobbly, at least my throat is warm. Hotel Park 156 is a compilation of amusing contradictions. We would recommend it save for the disabled or older seniors. Everything is on a hill and there are some steps as well.
The young woman tells Andrea that a drink is the answer to many of the owner’s problems. We tell him if ever comes to NY we will show him around. He says he has all personal information and knows where to find us. We walk around this working class neighborhood and head for the sea. We are an oddity, it is like tourists visiting anyone’s neighborhoods where there is no particular attraction. There are a score of ships riding high in the harbor and one that is listing. There are fresh fish markets where the mongers try to sell us fish, even though it is clear we are tourists. What would we do, fry them in our pockets? The mongers love posing with their fish.
We randomly choose a restaurant; the main criterion is that is crowded. We order two dishes that are variations on spiced lamb with a brown rice tinted by tomatoes, Turkish bread, a plate filled with tastes of four distinct salads, and extraordinarily hot roasted green peppers. Everything is very satisfying, fresh, and tasty, what for them are every day dishes. All for $14 and a tip. A little girl come to our table and stares at me. Maybe she has seen what Dick Cheney and an aged Richard Dreyfus on TV. Her mother whisks her away.
Speaking of other continents. You would think continents would be separated by great bodies of water, impassable mountain ranges, or some distinguishable characteristic? Something more than a speed bump or some bridge. It is the only major city in the world on two continents. Oh, are you staying on the Left Bank or North America? Are you staying in Manhattan or New Jersey? Maybe, that is not a good analogy. Who decides where continents begin and end? The same people who invented the continental breakfast? The place seems to be gerrymandered by politicians, but it is unclear to a new visitor who is the beneficiary.
Everyone knows that Istanbul was once called Byzantium (Byzantion to the Greeks) and Constantinople and that Thrace ends at the European border of the city. They changed the names when it was cheaper to do so. They did not need to issue new business cards and letterhead and people did not have to write in their annual Christmas letter of an address change. I hope they do not change the name again in the next two weeks when we return for a longer stay in Istanbul. We have reservations and I would hate to have trouble finding a hotel again.
Who’s in charge of continents?
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Great trip report before the trip takes place. Good work.
This is exactly what I hoped for when I asked to hear about Turkey! Do tell !!
Hey, this should be in the Asia forum.
This is great! I like your sense of humor.
I don't read many trip reports because the writing is often boring. Yours is a wonderful exception.
Welcome Adu,
you know cold is right. who are you fooling, sitting in asia and writing as if it was europe.
glad you are making this (i deleted the adjective here) attempt to write a "how i spent my summer vacation" report. Cold received an "F" from his teacher because he never got around to writing one. either he was overwhelmed or he is a laudable procrastinator.
Will you give your itinerary so that we wait with expectation or will you surprise us everyday, writing from places like Sivas, kutahya, afyon, diyarbakir, Tunceli, Hopa?
You must write everyday, of'course, but never about ballons, underground cities, how aphrodisias seemed nicer than ephesus, and why Turkish pigs have wings (they just fly off and you never see any of them.)
Hope everything goes well. sorry about the few more days of rain.
OC
Adu...you sure have a lot of nerve, skipping out on your parole officer...or didn't you ever see "Midnight Express"...?? Putting you darling wife in danger gets no respect from this forum!
Snitch
Thank you Jubi and Peg. The others are jealous, illiterate brutes.
Cold
At least I left the country.
Stu
What is a wife for except to use her as a shield. Suha remembers you fondly. He looks like Salmon Rushdie.
Other
We are in Urgup now and I will soon write about things exotic, at least to me, tonight.
Turkey has been a member of the Council of Europe since 1949, the European Broadcasting Union since 1950, NATO and the European football leagues. That makes it administratively part of Europe.
Fodors should pay US!
Aduchamp1 - a wonderful start to what will be an entertaining, tantalizing time in a land "not so far away".
tC
ttt
Nice start. I went to a wedding on the Asian side while there, and found that area to be a very interesting slice of Turkish life. Such friendly people!
Adu
...don't forget to spend a few hours at Anadolu Kavagi, last town on the Asian side heading north to Black sea. The views from the old fort looking out to the end of the Bosphorus to the entrance of the Black Sea are historically dramatic.
There are more than a few restaurants for lunch at A.K. Being an A.K. yourself you'll be right at home. One hawker is forever standing on the street waving a skewer of uncooked shrimp. If I recall, that was a very good place (upstairs) for lunch...then walk it off by hiking to the fort..not very far (level until you reach the hill).
You'll have time to catch one of the later scheduled ferries back to Istanbul
Say hello to Suha for us..he probably still has our pictures as he always took Polaroids of his guests. Yes, indeed, there is a resemblance between Sal and Suha!! May have been some scary moments for the latter during Fatwah days. Does he still prefer to be called "Bill"..?
stu (hug your wife for me!)
You are hysterical--I love it!
It seems Suha is comfortable with the name Suha. You will have wait for the details of day three, but tonight Suha's assistant Esin sang many American standards and traditional jazz tunes in English and Suha was videotaping the whole preceeding.
Thank you all, except Stu, Cold, and Other for the compliments. I hope to day two later.
Adu, we are not dreamy eyed young females. We do not dish out compliments. Coming all the way from new York to listen to jazz does not deserve adulation. Cold may not agree with me, because it is probable that he would have thought that Esin was playing turkish country. (which, she possibly was)
I agree with Otherchelebi.
I am waiting for Adu to say something deep. Really really insightful. It may take a balloon ride to inspire him.
Day 2
The plane is nor big enough for American asses. The seat on the plane from Istanbul to Kayseri, is so narrow, that if they shot an episode of that show Lost in this aircraft I would still be wedged in there. I am afraid when I stand to exit I will leave my pants behind.
Pegasus Airlines gives two safety lessons, a video where eight year olds are the flight attendants and passengers, too damn cute, and the other by the live crew. The woman giving the live version is speaking so quickly it is difficult to know whether she is speaking Turkish or English. I think she just auctioned off the drunk in 12B and the aircraft itself.
We are headed for Cappadocia the land that time and water eroded. Some of the strangest rock formation and landscapes on earth exist in this region and that, of course, is the main and sole attraction. An American behind us says to his wife, “I think I see a fairy chimney.” We are flying at 15,000 and some how I am sure he can. The marketing arm of the Cappadocia Chamber of Commerce must have come up fairy chimneys. They are in a predicament as to how to describe this unique geology and topography. Too clinical no one would come. But if they employed an exact description for some of the formations and said “Cappadocia, the home of 80 foot rock phalluses, some with windows when people lived in them” it would only appeal to a certain type of person, so they go with the Disney approach, cutsey-poo inoffensive nonsensical description of fairy chimneys. The rocks are a mesmerizing collection of shapes, sizes, and combinations. And in one way, they look like a cemetery for a pottery class gone terribly wrong.
We are supposed to return the rental car with the arrow pointing to the big red “E” for empty. The tank is empty and we fill it for ninety dollars! Ninety dollars! The gas station attendant gives me a consolation prize, a small box with pictures of horses on it. Naturally I think there is a crappy plastic horse inside but it turns out to be tissues. I am not sure the connection between horses and tissues and I am not sure I want to know.
We take an extra 30 minutes to find our hotel Esbelli Evi. One reason is we are stupid, the second is the Esbelli sign is so small you think they were running a safe house and Anne Frank is in the attic. More abut Esbelli, the owner Suha, and his gregarious assistant Esin later. They are major characters in this leg of the journey.
After checking in, we head for the Goreme Open Air Museum. The people who once lived in these caves were Christians and painted frescoes of religious figures and symbols on the walls and ceilings around the 12th century although the caves had been occupied since the 4th century. One piece of local propaganda states that people lived in nearby caves until the 1960’s. This tradition has been resurrected in the United States and is called the Tea Party Movement.
There are also burial chambers and, of course, the former residences of the skeletons. All are carved out of the strange stone formations. The tourists pass from one cave to cave like crazed medieval Avon ladies. The place is flooded with Italian, British, Spanish, German, and since we are on the Asian side of Turkey, Japanese and Koreans tourists. There are no busloads of Americans, as far as I can tell on this day. One Spanish woman offers us an unsolicited warning that they caves ahead are crowded with other Spaniards. A German man sees my walking stick and asks me to fix his. It takes about three seconds and his wife proclaims me a genius. German standards have fallen greatly. My favorite group of tourists are some elderly Italians who are forced to wear yellow and blue neckerchiefs so they can easily be spotted when lost. They look like Boy Scouts fulfilling their obligations for their final merit badge.
It is hard to imagine living in a cave with your family, in-laws, and animals conducting the most natural and intimate of human activities.
We eat in the town of Goreme, as we will find out it is the custom here to eat on a terrace overlooking the scenery. This night we are given a long warm Turkish bread called lavash which bears a resemblance to the Indian bread naan. You spread some butter and then sprinkle on the Turkish version of parmesan cheese. It is fabulous. I had the grilled meatballs and Andrea orders a casserole with pastrami. Pastrami is a regional food and a legacy of the Armenians who once lived in the area. While the fava beans in the casserole were excellent, pastrami in a casserole to this Jewish NY’er is simply awful. We are given bakalava as a free dessert and the woman who served us is delighted that Andrea is tying to speak Turkish and introduces us to the owner, who is also delighted. They meal once again, save for the few strips of pastrami, is fresh, well prepared, and satisfying.
The Turks we have encountered so far, are simply the warmest hosts we have met in any country.
Our hotel room is a cave. The high vaulted ceiling with ornamental ribs and an open clothes closet in the wall are all carved from stone. We are careful not to fall out of bed and crack our skulls even though the floors are covered with a wood veneer. The bathroom is thankfully modern and commodious. (I like using that word to describe bathrooms.) The owner of the Esbelli, Suha has purchased 23 abandoned buildings over the years and converted them into a hotel with a refined but a most congenial atmosphere. To get to the room we must walk up and down stairs, around turns, and through a tunnel been carved from stone. It is not for the disabled, seniors with limited movement, or Americans without a GPS.
Suha is a slight man, who resembles Salman Rushdie. When I mention this to him he says he will avoid Iran. He is justly proud of his establishment and plays classical music and jazz during all the waking hours. He fondly remembers our Stu Tower and has read his book The Wayfarers. (Stu you me something for the plug.)
Suha’s assistant is the effusive Esin which means inspiration in Turkish. She has an easy laugh and is immediately likeable. She attended Marshall in West Virginia where she received her masters in musical composition and will be attending SUNY Buffalo next year for her PhD. She is a composer and a jazz singer. We tell her that we will show her New York and give her all sorts of hints on how to save money. She is the daughter we never wanted and I am afraid we will end up paying for her education, if we are not careful.
Not bad. Not bad. You can be happy you are not staying in a cave hotel during the height of summer. We were told the room would remain cool. It was a frigging sauna.
See if you can find your way to the hill that overlooks Goreme. Great views but a bit of a climb.
Kappadokya means Land of Wild Horses. Maybe that explains why horses were on the tissue box?
Enjoying your report, Adu.
This is just so swell.
Wonderful.Thank you, Adu.
We all want to travel with you. Well, your reports are second best. Have to be grateful for what we can get.
Thank you all.
Thank you Ellen for the explanation of horses and tissues. I hope this does not become a trend in places like the Grand Tetons.
Adu, definitely improved. Caves sometimes inspire people.
The cave muse must have hit you.
I will pay you back for commenting on my assos report but beware my reaction to your ignoring my more recent Kekova report.
Where did Andrea pick her Turkish? She has not even had a chance to meet the Sultanahmet tauts yet.
Also thanks for info on Stu's book. Will check it. When will you mention mine?
Just a note: My older daughter (30 and unmarried) who studied architecture at Virginia Tech is also looking for new parents in New York. (her name means 'joy' in English)
I had no idea that you were so funny....I am relishing this report...I was in Cappadocia during my college years which were a very long time ago and this brings back great memories.
I think Adu's wife is writing this while Adu is outside telling everyone he likes New York city better.
t
Well, this is something different! Looking forward to the next installment.
Just a note: My older daughter (30 and unmarried) who studied architecture at Virginia Tech is also looking for new parents in New York. (her name means 'joy' in English)
__________________
First, I forgot to tell you, we are moving. Second, I think you mean your daughter's name means Joy in Turkish, otherwise her name would be Joy.
looking forward to the rest of the report!!
y'see, Ad, I keep telling you to stay away from that lounge crowd. Here, where we don't know any better, you are appreciated and applauded. Keep up the noble attempt at writing of your news and views.
By the way, I'm not sure I suggested that in Urgup, a short downhill walk from Suha's cave, there is a very good resto in the heart of town...good food and entertainment..terrace..Somine Cafe & Restaurant<b/>. Also, while strolling Urgup, keep an eye out for a small store specializing in "Turkish delight" (candy, Adu!..don't let your mind wander to anything more exotic)
Stu (love to the beautiful lady you brung along!)
I didn't think I had the slightest interest in Turkey, but I'm greatly enjoying this trip report, Aduchamp. I just love the satire - such a relief from the usual dull TR's.
Her name is "joyance". like Beyonce, but she does not sing. "Bey" on the other hand, is a masculine honorary title, used usually for a socially and economically high level person. So you should call your new friend "Suha Bey".
How Beyonce fits into this, i do not know.
Excellent report. People need to get off the beaten track more.
Adu: I expect to see you and your camp followers (read Fodorites) on Saturday Night Live soon, I hope. -- so I can laugh out Loud some more. Please keep it up. This is the new Adu to me.
I just love the satire - such a relief from the usual dull TR's.
Hazel..now you've gone and done it...encouraging Aduchamp can be terminal. You ain't seen nuthin' yet!
I hear about the jazzy night at Esbelli and was too tired to go there, where Esin sing while guests played piano....what a miss! I think there was a classical concert a night ago or so. I loved the Salman part but I wont say this to Suha
he is a character of his own and he does really proud with his work and he deserves the fame he created....
Keep coming Adu.....
Greetings Murat! So you're encouragine Adu too...OK...get ready for 1267 responses. The man is fueled by back patting!
stu
Today we found a shard of Hittite pottery that depicted Stu Tower flogging his book. While I was excited to discover that he invented book tours and shameless self-promotion 4,000 years ago, the tour guide said it was worthless because the pottery was found all over the known world.
Propertravel-
Are you at Esbelli now? There will be episode of Esin singing in the next entry which I am hopeful will be tomrrow.
Gaudamit Adu, get some sleep. We are relying on you to entertain us for a couple of weeks.
Sorry, Cold my insomnia follows me wherever I go.
adu;
"ProperTravel" is a native of Cap..he is a guide and I believe somewhat of an agent, too. Lives close to Esbelli...name is Murat. He posts here often and has valuable information for Turkey goers.
If anyone could uncover that dam, incriminating pottery shard, it would be you!! Maybe I shouldn't tell anyone that you're one of my 4 chosen U.S. previewers for Branko, who by the way is going to the Turkey of 1941 in Chapter 17. Quite different than the Turkey you are now visiting.
Anytime for A's water coloring? Vistas galore.
stu
Stu
Yes Andrea is working on her watercolors. The actual details will be incorporated into a future report.
As far as being a previewer of Brnako, I have never been outed in public before.
I am sure Suha knows Murat.
Get busy--the last installment was almost two days ago!
Days 3 and 4
We are standing high above the road in the old town of Soganli. It reminds me of a scene in a Laurel and Hardy movie where Stan and Ollie are fighting a gorilla that is pushing a piano balanced on a rope between two mountains in the Alps. It is not supposed to make sense but today I was the piano and Andrea was the gorilla. It is hot and sunny as she figuratively pushes me up the hill to inspect as many abandoned 13th cent. churches as close up as possible. The only other person we find is a young squatter with very few teeth living in one of the derelict structures who is wringing out his underwear. He invites in for tea. I know it is rude to say no, but no it tis. Dispite the snub, he tells us where the ruins of the ancient churches are located. This is very helpful as sketch of the area we were given is a cross between a ransom note and a map from a pirate movie. And there are no signs indicating which building is a church, let alone which church is which. The tourist propaganda states that there 6 or 7 churches within a few hundred meters of one another. Why were so many churches needed for such a small population? What was going on here? We tread lightly in fear of what created this great need for religion.
2,500 feet below us, the doors of the buses open and some tourists squeeze through the narrow passageway quickly and with ease. Then there are a some moments when nothing happens. This is interrupted by a few who make a slow and painful exit. This is repeated a few more times until there is obvious relief on the bus driver’s face when the last stragglers are finally discharged. It seems the bus movements have passed, at least for the moment.
We move to our next destination. While the rest of world was transfixed with the rescue of the 33 Chilean miners trapped 2,000 feet beneath the earth’s surface in an imposed hell,we descend into an underground city in Derinkuyu. This city was supposedly started by the Hittites, later inhabited by Romans and Christians. One obviously wonders how terrible life must have been above ground for them to live like mole rats. At its height the city supposedly held 10,000 inhabitants on twelve levels. It is designed for defense rather than comfort. One of the security guards volunteers to be our tour guide and leads us through a labyrinth of living quarters, bath rooms, churches, storage rooms, and stables. It is impossible to walk erect even if you are short. At one point we must ascend about thirty feet of stairs so constricted I lurch forward head down like the designers intended so that an invader could not stand to assume the battle position and must clamber into the certain death of the swords and arrows of the defenders. My knees almost touch my chest, as I head upward, my backpack scrapes the ceiling, my hiker’s headlamp illuminates my shoes, and my breath is so warm from the strain that I can see it in the cool of the cave. I crawl out of the underground city with a certain simian quality, as one eye and five of my knuckles drag on the ground. I enjoy being a role model for America.
Someone wrote that it is good to read a report from off the beaten track. Well, the beaten track often has cafes, elevators, wheel chairs, and nearby hospitals and they usually do not have a sign posted at the entrance warning people with heart conditions and asthma not to enter. This encouragement is akin to goading gladiators on to their deaths while they sit comfortably, eating the best of foods. Well, it is time for you do it yourself sports fans, we do not intend to die for your amusement.
One meal of note was at Ziggy’s Café (named after the owner’s dog) in Urgup. We ate a meze meal which consisted of:
Cucumbers in yoghurt
Potatoes in molasses and pomegranate juice
Cheese, nuts, and olives in a pepper sauce
Jerusalem artichokes in olive oil
Fava bean puree with dill
Grilled eggplant with yogurt
Bread with a pepper dip
Pastrami, cheese, and dill wrapped in something like an egg roll skin and deep fried
Skewered chicken with garlic
Dessert was a baked quince in honey with whipped cream (very dense not very sweet) and mint
Besides the pastrami sacrilege the meal was a wonderful cacophony of tastes and textures,
Esin entertained us one evening in the music room at Esbelli Evi. She changed from a dewy eyed, affable young woman into a serious vamp belting out standards and jazz classics. She has great range and is a student of American phrasing. Everyone is loud in their appreciation but when she sings “Let the Sunshine In” in Turkish she owns the song. Like a proud Papa, Suha gleefully videos the audience of about ten of Esin’s friends and admirers. One of Esin’s friends is a retired music teacher from West Virginia who encourages a sing-a-long. Her voice is so high pitched unidentifiable Turkish animals appear at the windows in search of a mate.
Andrea considers Suha’s inability to tell a joke as a major character flaw. She wants to transform the quiet, confident man of grace and erudition into Sheki Sheki, the Krazee Klown of Kappadocia. She tries to write jokes for him, “A Turk, an American, and a kangaroo walk into a bar.” I tell her it is a Muslim country and kangaroos are not allowed to drink and that Suha would a terrible opening act for Esin. He is more Mort Sahl before the Kennedy assissination than Borscht Belt. But she undeterred, “Good evening ladies and Germans.”
Fortunately we leave for Cirali tomorrow.
Are you leaving on your own free will?
is Andrea also going with you? why?
is cirali aware of what may hit them?
say hi to Carrie.
Have a nice trip, and sory about the rain.
now we all know that Andrea writes most of your stuff...and she's g-o-o-d. She probably does your previewing reports for you. It don't matter none!
Enjoying your report. A bit of advice about Cirali--no ATM machines, you might want to hit the cash machine before leaving Urgup.
Tower, i think you are trying hard to get a good preview for your new book, but you should be honest.
I find that the descriptive parts of the narrative are good, but character development is very poor. the character, aduchamp, just does not come through. he is so evidently a fictional character that it is difficult to empathize with him.
In addition to that, Andrea mostly appears as just an infrequent name. Is it because the author is a misogynist? Or is andrea a ghost or a play friend who accompanies aduchamp wherever he goes?
the only character who comes through bright and clear is esin the jazz singer (i wonder why) and she probably will not feature in the latter chapters.
I guess we will discover all of these and more as the narrative enfolds.
OC...what you don't realize is that Adu is a New York street kid, with all of the warts, scars and eroded psyche. His inner child has been exposed several times at very embarrassing moments. Andrea is his occasional muse and consequently she suffers immeasurably. So, I suggest we just let him be and see where that takes this report. At least he's building up a following and will probably demand a lot more $$$ for his questionable previews. You just can't win with this bloke! Ay, yi, yi!
stu
Thank tou Jaackie for the sane advice.
I have no idea what Tower and Other are talking about. It is like two men sitting in a corner wearing straight jackets and murmuring to one another.
We only had a bit of rain that one afternoon in Istanbul. In fact, I have a bit of a tan.
Days whatever
There wasn’t anyone to reclaim the rental car. Someone was supposed to meet us curbside. Nevsehir airport is one of those places where all three gates lead to the same plane, so they do not have car rental windows, kiosks, parking lots, or banners. A fellow with an official looking laminated credential tells me to move the car. I tell him it is a rental, that no one is here to retrieve it, and I wave the agreement as evidence which he asks to read. He calls the phone number on the contract than motions to accompany him and give him the key. After a perfunctory inspection, he drives the car away but not before some how assuring me that is all OK.
At Turkish airports, you go through security twice, once upon entering the building and then again before boarding and everyone seems to know the laminated manger. As I wait for our flight I go to the concession stand for a drink and the guy who just drove my car away greets me warmly from behind the counter. At least he did not drive far. Now I give him money and hope he is not the pilot but wonder if he will do my taxes.
We need two flights to get from Anatolia to Anatalya. You would think they would different names for everyone’s convenience. Turkish Airlines is about 30 years behind the times, as they provide plenty of leg room and offered a full meal on a short flight-a salad, a piece of almond cake and a turkey sandwich. Only Andrea and I find this ironic.
On the first leg I sit next to old man. He is both nervous and amazed on what appears to be his first flight. I motion to him to put on his seat belt. He opens his palms to indicate he does not have one. I try to get him to stand up since he is sitting on it. He does not understand my charades but is of wonderful humor and laughs. Finally I get him to lift his body and I pull the buckle out and show him how it operates. He pulls it across his waist. I try to tell him he needs another piece but he is quite happy with just the buckle. I summon the flight attendant. It takes a while to convince him that he needs a second piece but finally understands, stands, and retrieves the insert.
They then distribute lunch. He is confused and amused by the various items wrapped in all manner of cellophane. He motions to me to open his water which is a plastic cup with a tinsel top. When I splash it all over myself, he laughs like he is at the circus. He then gives me the wetnap to open. Every time I bend my head to do something for him, this slight man makes the food and drink disappear. When we descend into Istanbul, he becomes excited as a child but since we do not speak the same language, he unfortunately has no one with whom to share the experience.
We finally settle in Cirali, a summer escape with a pebble beach. There are many small hotels, pensions, and restaurants dedicated to families. Nothing is fancy and not one building rises more than two stories, although some places have tree house rooms. If I had known this sooner I would have stayed at the Cheeta Pavilion and make the room clerk do a back flip when we paid the bill.
We traipse over the nearby Roman ruins in what feels to be 90 degree heat. I imagine that this was a trading center and the Romans engineered an inlet from the sea to unload ships and built a fortification for the protection of the citizens and property. The grace and strength of the Roman arches still remain as does the embattlements and the temples. Wherever we walk people speak to us in German. There are many Germans here with oversized calves and undersized shorts.
Later we parade into the darkness of the night. Up a hill just a mere kilometer trek is the Chimaera. Everyone says it takes 15 minutes but it is torturous and takes an hour. There are steps built of rocks in between stretches of dirt. The stones reflect the light from a full moon and stare back at you like skeleton teeth. The craggy stairs make the walk that much tougher. We still need our hiker’s headlamps to illuminate the path which at times turns into a corridor on uneven stones, which bend your ankle and twist your knee. The Chimaera is not one bright flame but maybe 15 or twenty campfires sized fires fueled from a methane source. You can feel the warmth from twenty feet away. It was mystical to the Romans and many myths surround the flames including those that involve Vulcan and Pegasus. Supposedly ancient sailors saw the flames from the sea. The walk down takes only 30 minutes and there are only two more couples up the hill. After the come down we are sure they shut off the gas for the evening.
Thanks Adu.
You are right about the gas. it is imported from Iran, and the fires become miniscule when the price goes up.
You do not tell us what you are going to suffer after cirali.
the little old man sitting next to you on the flight is not turkish. THY always has a little irish guy on their flights for luck, but never the same one. Although it is possible that with the price of everything going up, small size illegal immigrants who can convince THY that they are Irish and willing to work for a pittance may be cornering the market.
How did the water colors come out from the dark room?
Did Andrea walk down from the Chimera or did she fly back on Pegasus? Have you read the John Barth book of that name? Highly recommended reading and definitely easier to read than the Sotweed Factor or Giles the Goat Boy.
Adu - this is very exciting for me as we were just in Nevsehir airport buying juice from that car rental guy. I sat down on the floor to drink the juice and forgot I was sitting under a pay phone. When I got up I hit my head very hard on the phone. That caused me to stumble around with some blood on my hand. The car rental guy asked me if I was okay. I think he is a doctor as well.
Cold, shame on you! Blaming a payphone for your strange posts!
If I had known this sooner I would have stayed at the Cheeta Pavilion and make the room clerk do a back flip when we paid the bill.
Finally, something funny...
There are many Germans here with oversized calves and undersized shorts.
...and something cerebrally graphic.
So for this, Adu, thank you...but no more yawns, please.
Stu
OtherC:
I suppose I should tell you, I was a supplier for the Turkish Air Force about 35 years ago. That's a whole other topic.
stu
Adu,
You keep me going!
Weber6560
Thank you Weber, see we do go places other than Spain.
It seems both Stu and Other could not hold a job and have done more things than Keith Richards. Whenever they read a posting, they did that. I am glad I did not run into a hooker.
I have not read that John Barth book, and yes, he more inaccessible than the writers on the Lounge. Now I am confusing inaccessible and unexplainable.
I think Cold actually hit his head on toilet and the car rental guy was also the men's room attendent.
I have the same problem with New York, New York.
While I understand that both the Bush and Obama administration want Turkey to join the EU you can understand why Western Europe shudders with concern. Its tough enough with the Greeks in let alone the Bulgarians.
On the other hand I enjoy every trip I've ever made to Turkey and you are clearly having a great time
Adu, where ya been? Whassamatter, no Wifi in Cirali? Now you get everyone excited about your ongoing TR and you fade away?
Local poh-lice finally caught up with you? Other C's posts too disturbing for a quiet New Yorker? Andrea ran off with a 6'6" masseur? I'll have to give your previewer's task over to a nimble-fingered chimp on an abacus!
stu
It seems that i am not the only one who is getting worried.
You do not have to write long. Just a few words to say you and Andrea are fine.
In fact some people may prefer that you do not write long. Not i of'course. Once i even read a hundred page book.
Tower, if you buy my book i will buy yours. It is highly probable that neither one of us will understand much, but we can do it in the name of globalization. (most of my book is in turkish, but it also has nice pictures) Proof of purchase will be an amazon review.
email: rozstu1@aol.com
Maybe I'll have you replace Aduchamp. Naw...he's already plowed through 16 chapters...only two more to go
sft
Unlike you other people, I must do something in order to report. I will have a report in a day or two.
Absistence makes the heart grow fonder and other things.
Reports of my arrest are premature.
Tower writes:
I'll have to give your previewer's task over to a nimble-fingered chimp on an abacus!
This is a far better idea, overall. He will have a greater affinity and insight than any human.
Adu, it is not 'absistence' but 'abstinance' which makes various organs fonder, the heart being only one of them.
"Unlike you other people, I must do something in order to report."
This was a first rate put down, which I would have thought would shut the critics up either for a) a day or two, or b) until their next drink. Given Otherchelebi's immediate response, I was either a) wrong, or b) OC is already into the grapes very early Monday morning.
This is one of the most hilarious TR I have read on this forum. I am having a hard time in deciding whether the OP is more witty, or the posters who are reading along are contributing more to the humour !
Keep it coming.
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Adu, this is terrible. Someone found out that you and we are easy marks. Do you think they will accept a barter of their products against cirali jujubies?
To the morons at the commercial site. Leave us alone we are diseased and so will you be if you do not decease. Also we know people. Bad people.
I am not at a commercial site.
he's referring to Peggymiao above...she has commercials all over the forum, all called "good trade"...editors please note.
Yes, got that, but his use of the word "morons" could apply to many of us in his mind. He will get it.
More Days
We are leaving Cirali, a town that looks like the place at the end of “Silence of the Lambs” where Hannibal Lechter tells Jodie Foster and tells her, “I’m having an old friend for dinner.
After a six hour drive, we are ready to lie down in the Bordello Bat Cave. The bed is surrounded by red gauzy material as are the windows, that is intended to make it romantic I suppose. And the lights are low but not intentionally. We are in Pamukkale at the Melrose Hotel. As usual the hosts are warm and funny and the room is high up and weird. The toilet resembles a teapot. We turn on the TV for a few minutes and soon we realize we are watching Aljazeera in English. There was a discussion about the new increased French retirement age conducted from Doha with some talking tetes in Paris and one academic from Birmingham. It had the same manic tone of a Chris Matthews interview but they are French cry babies. I was a little nervous, however, when the weather person on Aljazeera said it was going to be “bomby’ in Madrid.
Pamukkale is known for its calcium hot waters and extensive Roman ruins. The Roman Gate which leads to a main street is formidable just as the architects intended. There are a few columns remaining and the latrine is also is identifiable. This is adjacent to a large necropolis. Andrea did not want to visit the Agora since she has agoraphobia. I have a great fear of Andrea. Although there are many buses of tourists, they do not visit the far ruins but stay near the waters.
Wherever we travel in Turkey we are charged something. Even to enter one town we were robbed at the entrance. At Pamukkale we are charged for parking, then there is 20 Turkish Lira charge per person for entry and an additional 25 TYL for use of the hot springs. I understand they need money but it is not welcoming. You do not bathe in the hot springs in a private area but you channeled through a stream like salmon, as you pass by the cafeteria and other areas where visitors can stare down upon you. Look for me on You Tube via Japanese tourists who made a video of me trying to wring the pain of the first week in Turkey. Even though I look like a whale, I barked like a seal to ward them off, but they just thought I was speaking bad Japanese.
It takes a village. As we leave Pamukkale, the owners of the hotel of direct us to the pharmacy in town, since I have some congestion. There is a knot of people speaking as we enter. The first person to approach us is a visiting drug saleswoman, known in the US as a detail person. I have read that drug companies in the US hire ex-cheerleaders to sell drugs because they are perky and artificially positive. She was cheery bit not very helpful. The next person who tried to help was the store manager. He used to work at Walgreen’s because he still had “I’ll get someone to help you because I was just the stock boy last week and I still do not know anything” look. There was a customer who spoke English who explained to the knowledgeable young women behind the counter what was wrong, who retrieved some sort of powder to which I must mix with water. There is something universal about the lowest paid competent people keeping the world on an even keel.
We are now headed for Sirince. Stu Tower said there was a great kebab stand on the road between. We drove slowly and looked at every kebab stand. Stu the place had changed since your last visit in 1917.
You are fortunate that Andrea and I are alive. We are staying at a pricey hotel in Sirince called Nisanyan. We thought we discovered it, then we noticed it was recommended in Frommer’s. The road to the hotel is one of those narrow creatures with hairpin turns, no guard rails, and where one wrong move and you descend thousands of feet into the Turkish countryside. Of course there are also tourist buses with which to contend. Then when we made the final turn towards the hotel on a 90 degree upslope, we found the town has left many holes for new electrical work. Rev up in first and hope for the best. The hotel is well done as the walls resemble ancient Rome through some trompe l’oiel. The receptionist felt sorry for us and gave us some salad even though the kitchen was closed. Not too sorry, tonight will probably be the most expensive meal we will eat in Turkey. I must inquire if you die on the road up, are you still responsible for the cancellation fee.
http://picasaweb.google.com/stuarttower/ScenesOfTurkey#5234495992615691362
Adu, I went to great lengths to send you this photo months ago...clearly spells it out..sorry you missed it.
Anyone else....no menu, skewers of small chunks of delicious lamb, served with a large sliced onion, tomatoes and fresh bread. The waiter comes by to count the number of empty skewers..thence, he writes your bill accordingly.
stu
yes, the uneaten lamb chunks go back on the grill for the next "diners".. What were you expecting? A doggy bag??
stu
This has become too depressing for me to respond anymore. where is the joie de vivre? why is Andrea not smiling anymore in the photographs?
Did the red room come supplied with a live one who was shooed out?
Please take some cat food with you to Ephesus and St. John's basilica for the cats, and pour some water from the bottles which you should be carrying wth you in some indentations in the marble, unless it rains.
I have to ask--are you having a good time?
I am sorry that the tone of the reports are indicating we are not having a good time, we are. Happy is not funny. It is a most fascinating and varied country. We have about 10 more days in Turkey including a week in Istanbul and two days on the Isle of Chios. I think we packed too much
That road to the hotel is death defying, however and today it rained.
When we have more time, I will write more. I think we packed too much into our trip and we did not leave enough time to watch the world walk by and let thoughts simmer.
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Stick with it, guys...you have a memorable week in Istanbul coming up. Look over those notes I diligently worked up to send you, what seems like a year ago..will help make the Istanbul portion easier to plan, day by day.
Both OC and I are much relieved that you are in touch with the outside world once again. Now we can go back to giving you a nasty time!
stu
To all you whiners and babies, we will be busy the next few days so do not expect any communiques. Addtionally the hotel in Chios charges a lot for the Internet.
Oh this is teriffic! Just stumbled across it and it's made my day. Thanks Adu.
" Her voice is so high pitched unidentifiable Turkish animals appear at the windows in search of a mate." Now I know what happened to my lovely Mother-in-law after she died. She was reincarnated as a music teacher & went to Turkey.
Bokhara
Glad I could bring back family memories.
Travel Days Interrupted By Sightseeing
____________________________________
We wish to publicly thank Otherchelebi, his gracious daughter and her boy friend for their generous and warm hospitality. We had a home cooked meal in his apartment which overlooked the spectacular fireworks on the Bosporus for Republic Day, followed by a private guided tour Istanbul the following day. (Details in the next report.)
Thank you again.
_______________________________________________-
We are fine and were not effected by the bombing even though we were in Taksim Square yesterday. Anybody who knows about our travels, knows this is just one more bombing, criminal event, and killing that occurred while we were somewhere.
___________________________________________
Ephesus and Sirince, Turkey
Esphesus is a major ruin that has a much photographed library with a magnificent façade and an amphitheater that once held 25,000 people. They used to have the Christmas show there before Radio City Music Hall but then the animals ate the dancers. It is over run with tourists. The Turkish government makes a lot of money for entry fees for these various sites and cares more about that then preserving the ruins. Although only 20% has been excavated it remains an extraordinary visit.
The Ninayasan Hotel, where we are taying near Ephesus is not worth the money. It is almost $150 a night and while the rooms are exquisitely refinished to emulate the interior of a Roman hone with a combination of trompe l’oiel, intentionally distressed walls, and work that mimics frescoes, the attempt to make one welcome ends there. There are many little things that do not add up to expensive including the rooms being small. Another example is the shower is dark, leaving you to guess which parts you are washing.
As we preapre to leave the hotel, a gaggle of aggressive geese protect the car they do not own. But neither do we and intend to return it that today. As we headed down the Hill Of Death for the last time, the rain added an unnecessary element of the danger.
The car trip remained uneventful until we reach some toll booths. We could not figure out how to get a ticket from the machines, since they were all unmanned. In fact, I got out of the car and acted like a truck to see if I could generate a ticket. We found out later you were supposed to go to a small building next to the toll booths and buy a plastic card. When we finally arrived at the pay booths, we found the one booth that did not have a gate and we set off an alarm. No cops stopped us, but I am sure the rental company will get a bill which I will in turn some day.
We arrive at the Grand Hotel Ontour to return our car in Cesme, a huge facility closing for the winter and has all the charm of The Shining. The rental car office is shuttered and one of the morticians who is putting the joint to rest volunteered to help us. He made many phone calls on our behalf telling us things we do not want to hear, including the guy who supposed to run the car rental agency left town. We see our trip to Chios evaporating. Then they discover there is another car rental office in town and they tell us to bring it there which they say is one half hour drive.
They tell the gatekeeper, who has not seen any humans but us in weeks, to drive ahead of us and we will follow him. As we drive, Andrea looked for the words in Turkish “wait for us”. It was unnecessary, he waited. We arrive at an all year round, luxury resort where they are staging some sort of convention. We return the car to someone who actually works for the car rental company who does not discover the crack in the windshield we did not see either until we driven the car for about an hour. The gatekeeper drove us to the ferry and we tipped him grandly.
After having our tickets verified at the ferry boat office to Chios we walk to the nearby marina for a bite. Cesme is a wealthy community and the marina harbors scores of 30 foot boats and many close to 50 feet. While all the boats have small Turkish pennants, many fly American flags and we see at least one French. The water is the cleanest water I have ever seen in docking area. It is a pristine bluish green without a hint of a paisley pattern of oil. This means they actually keep the harbor clean or no one takes their trophies for a spin,
I know the restaurant will be expensive, the waiter offers food without offering prices. He shows us mezes and we chose some peppers, black-eyed peas, and artichokes, the bread is toasted and not free. Then he brings us an array of fish on a platter. We choose the mullet, no, not they 1990’s bad hairstyle and sole. It is fresh as can be and perfectly prepared.
We head back to our ferry. There are no indications of where and what to go so we head for the most disinterested customs officials we can find. We are so confused as what ship to board we head for a container ship. We do not see an entrance except if we were containers ourselves. One of the functionaries runs after us and directs us to a ferry that has that familiar lumpy paint look of an overused boat.
Greek Isle of Chios
There is an immediate and obvious change of energy, dress, and social interaction from the Turks. Husbands and wives hang out together, girls with girls, guys with girls, talk, drink, and smoke everywhere. Many of the women are adorned in slutwear- high-heeled boots with short skirts, a lot of dyed blonde hair (some on different people's heads), and open blouses.
Tomorrow is a national holiday, a remembrance of when the Greeks threw out the invading Italians at the end of WWII. Some how I think this hostility goes back thousands of years because more movies are made about the ancient Romans than the Greeks. The Greeks do not want to face the reality that Plato and Aristophanes are not as dramatic as Nero and Caligula. They do not care that if Andrea and I were rich enough to own an estate, we would call it Mt. Taygetos to honor the sight where the Spartans left the elderly and disabled to die. But the Greeks are not mad enough to remove spaghetti from the menus. And the celebration starts under our window the night before. There was music, especially that with a deep bass, until 4 AM. And just when you thought you were falling asleep, some military battery in the harbor would set off a salute. We were thrilled that a fierce rain storm the second night dampened everyone’s enthusiasm.
Before we left, I purchased the highly-acclaimed translation of The Odyssey by Robert Fagles. Supposedly Homer was born on Chios. The brilliant introduction by Bernard Knox begins by stating many places claim Homer but the actual place of birth is disputed. We are here anyway.
We rent a car and head for the tiny towns of Pirgi and Mesta. In Pirgi, they paint their homes in grey and white geometric patterns and attach black ornamental swans to the top of chimneys. It is odd and no one tries to outdo their neighbor using different hues. Old men and women with huge trays, sit in their front doors separating something that looks like nuts from the chaff. We easily find the main square where the children in the town are performing in celebration of the expulsion of the Italians. They make empty speeches and sing off-key, and dance traditional dances as the Greek Orthodox Bishop, the mayor, and what looks like the top crook in town with the biggest pompadour this side of Grease applaud in appreciation. Now the Bishop knows what it is like to listen to his sermons. The kids are cute and little girls offer everyone almond cookies, including us.
We then head to Mesta which is well-preserved 14th century town with narrow streets that were used as a form of defense. Small alley ways lead to private homes and the only form of transportation are motor bikes that buzz on the cobblestone. It is quiet and intriguing town but they apparently fought off the Italians 700 years earlier because there was not one blue and white banner in the colors of Greece to be found in town that swaddled Pirgi.
Another Day Travel Schedule
Cab, ferry (Chios to Cesme, Turkey) cab, plane Izmir to Istanbul), cab, tram (wallet stolen, more in a future report) private car.
Oh oh. Wallet stolen. Hopefully any locals Adu knows will reimburse him.
Adu, I am glad you did not tell us all, but left it to the writing on the wall. It is deliciously written again.
Cold, it was an empty wallet, for heaven's sake. There was nothing of value in it, except some early pin-up shots of jane russel.
You're back in form, bud! Awaiting the next communique.
Sorry about the wallet...My accountant is a former Turkish Air Force fighter pilot, now basking in the sunshine of California...he claims he knows every pickpocket/crook worthy of the title in Western Turkey. Maybe he could lead you to the snatching culprit.
OC..very nice of you and daughter to host Adu and Andrea. Were they well-behaved? Did you carefully check the silverware when they left? Wish I had known you on my prior trips. I did some "stuff" with a temporary small Kayseri detachment of USAF and TAF, and the large Adana base...way back in pre-hysteric days .
Tower, Adu tried to make his visit interesting by telling us all about you, but made me promise that i would not tell you that he did that. Since this is a public site, i am not really telling you and if you chance upon it well it is Fodor's fault.
Andrea was great and we all think that she deserves better. However, she said that just talking about tower shows Adu under a bad light. It was our mistake to get him started on the subject. If we had asked him about new York delis or patrami sandwiches, or offered to reimburse the lost wallet, he would have been the epitome of charm, intellect, wit, you name it, she said. but it was already too late. So, we may have to meet them again, with my wife this time so that we can see his better side (left profile, i think)
Tower
So you have an accountant who knows pickpockets. How unusal.
______________________
Cold, it was an empty wallet, for heaven's sake. There was nothing of value in it.
True, I had Other's resume in it.
Practical Advice for Turkey
Here is my first piece of advice-never believe anybody else’s advice. We have been in Turkey three weeks, which makes me a complete expert in all things Turkish.
________________
Have you ever mocked people who take tours by buses? Do you have a favorite nationality that you love to resent due to their behavior? Well Turkey will make you more self-righteous and smug than any other country I have visited.
We have never been in a country where the major tourist attractions are so overrun with busloads of tourists. This includes the major sights in Cappadocia and Ephesus. While Americans have not “discovered” Turkey yet, the Germans, Italians, Italians, Japanese, and Spanish have. In fact there are so many Spaniards we saw some places that have signs in both Spanish and Catalan and restaurant stalkers ask passers-by if they are Catalan. Get to the most popular attraction early. At Topkapi, get to the Treasury as soon as possible, it is a zoo.
But there are reasons why these bus tours are popular. This is not an easy country for seniors or the disabled. There are always stairs, extra steps, an upslope, and hills to negotiate and few elevators. The roads are mostly fine but there are many hairpin turns in tourist areas and like almost all places overseas an automatic transmission is an expensive luxury.
Throughout the country, there is a charge for entering just about every tourist attraction. They are usually 10 or 20 Turkish Lira (TL) which is $7 or $14 per person and they start to add up over the course of a trip. Be sure to budget appropriately. And there is often a second or third fee to visit the most popular exhibitions within the larger attraction. It is truly annoying. We paid 3 TL just to drive into one town. We were also charged 25 TL just to park near the Virgin’s house in Ephesus by the town. There is also a $20 visa entry fee to the country.
You will be stopped, cajoled, kidded, harassed, and greeted by store owners, restaurant stalkers, and street vendors. Bring your sense of humor and patience to deal with them.
Despite this and the fact that I was pick pocketed, the Turks are warm people with a wonderful sense of humor. Three examples. I was photographing the ceilings in Topkapi by putting my camera on the ground for better support. A guard offered to place it behind the cordon for a better picture. He was thrilled at the technique. I thanked him in Turkish and took his picture. A cab driver asked on the street if we needed a taxi, when we said we were taking the tram, he told us the best way to get it. We stopped at a store to buy some cheap trinkets. A young woman came out to speak to us and we spoke to her and her sister, who also worked at the shop, for an hour about various things.
Other useless and unrelated information
Amex is not widely accepted.
Call your credit company and find out what fees will be charged. It seems these companies have added new charges recently.
The Turks save a lot of money on street signs. They are very occasional, although the roads are generally clearly marked.
For a large city with an active population Istanbul is very clean and the WC’s are generally well maintained.
Turkey is of course a Muslim country and the first call to prayer is a little after sun up and the muezzins call might wake you.
When in Istanbul and if you want to visit the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Market, go to the Grand Bazaar first, the walk to the Spice Market is then down hill.
We usually avoid the most crowded tourist areas when traveling but we stayed in the Sultanamhet. It was convenient and the tram will get you close to many major sights.
In the south the people who work in the tourist speak more German and Spanish than English. Learn a few words in Turkish; they are very appreciative of the effort.
Although Turkey is a democracy, there is a concerted effort to silence opposition journalists and the President wants to move Turkey from a secular state to more of a fundamentalist state. Thus some Turks may be loathe to discuss politics and religion with you.
Otherchelebi wants people to know the government has imposed a large tax on alcoholic beverages, so the cost may be disproportionate to those at home.
_______________________________
Cars
If you are dropping your rental car off at an airport, ask questions about who will and where the car will be picked up. Sometimes a cheaper smaller agency, especially at the smaller airports, will have someone greet you to accept the car. Very often when making reservations from another country this custom is not indicated. We had trouble twice because no one was there to greet us.
If you are taking a toll road, ask the car rental company how to use the plastic card for the toll booths.
Gas is expensive in Turkey, so rent a small car with a stick shift.
Parking is where you find it although you can get a fine.
Driving can be an adventure but it is not as bad as say southern Italy.
There are gas stations everywhere.
_____________________________________________
Turkish Food
Turkish cooking is relatively unknown in the US but it is worth knowing. We inquired everywhere we went about ingredients. They often add cumin, a mild powdered red pepper, and special spice mixes to their meat, kebobs, and chicken. Meals often start with soups and then a selection of mezes (small plates), followed by a main course, and dessert.
We are still new to the Turkish cuisine but to our palates, it is a wonderful combination of tastes and textures.
Veggie people should have little trouble in Turkey. There are always mezes such as egg plant, bean (especially fava and lentils) dishes, rice, potatoes, various breads, grilled peppers, and hummus. You will have to inquire if you are lacto-whacko or any variation on a theme as to how things are cooked you will of course, be obsessive enough to ask, but it seemed most things were cooked in olive oil.
The Turkish cuisine is a limited in choices with some American and Italian dishes thrown in. But almost everywhere we went the food was fresh and honestly prepared.
Every hotel had a decent buffet for breakfast and many offered eggs and fresh squeezed orange juice. This will save you money.
Surprisingly Turkish coffee stinks. There is the omnipresent Nescafe and this is your parents’ Sanka. The Turkish coffee is often unfiltered. You might consider bring some coffee from home.
Apple tea is a traditional drink and an offering of friendship.
We had desserts all over the country and they are fine but not spectacular.
For Turkish Delights and Halvah go to Haci Bekir in Istanbul.
The bread is not good in the provinces and just slightly better in Istanbul. One small misconception I had was that pita would be everyone and very little was to be found.
I complained to Fodor’s about one their recommendations Fes Café in the Grand Bazaar. The selection of food is very limited; the food itself is average at best, and the service ridiculous.
We had two expensive meals outside of Istanbul and neither was memorable. Otherchelebi, however, took us to one of his favorite restaurants which has more distinctive and delicious food. He also told the waiter I was a famous international food critic. I guess being quoted in Fodor’s NYC does qualify as something.
_________________________________________________
Hotels
Our favorite hotel was the Esbelli Evi in Urgup. Although it is expensive for us and the area, $150 a night, Suha the owner runs a pleasant and first rate establishment dedicated to making his guests comfortable happy and he tends to the details. He also screens potential guests by the tone and courtesy of their e-mail or any other communication. If it is abrupt, arrogant, or generally dismissive, he will not rent them a room. N.B. If you have trouble with stairs, you cannot stay here.
My least favorite was the Nisanyan Hotel in Sirince. Although it was also expensive and great attention was paid to the detail of decoration of the establishment, little else was offered in making someone’s stay pleasant. They are atop the Hill of Death and even the parking area makes this place almost impossible for people who have trouble getting around.
We stayed at a relatively new hotel in Istanbul called the Tan. We have no complaints and the staff was entirely friendly and helpful. It was good for the price.
I am confident I will more hints once I hit the send button.
_______________________________________
Last report on Turkey to follow shortly.
Excellent second to last Turkey report. Lots of good information for those planning future trips.
It's funny the things that hit you. You're right about the street signs. We in the US take street signs for granted and it's interesting to experience the dearth of them in many other countries.
You make an excellent point about rental car return. BE SURE you find out where to leave the car when you return it. We must have spent 45 minutes driving around the Antalya airport trying to figure out where to leave our car.
Despite little inconveniences such as that, we fell in love with Turkey and its people.
Looking forward to your final report.
Ellen
Have we got to the gawdarn wallet story yet? Geez. Just tell the darn story, no matter how bad you look.
Thank you Ellen. We all bring our own narrow and distorted views with us. Speaking of distorted see below.
Cold
I am trying not be one of those hysterical travlers who want the State Department to issue a warning or tell everyone to wear steel underwear because of having their pocket picked. I know you just returned from Turkey and the following is your complete trip report:
Good.
Adu: What a wonderful report. Thanks. really.
Thank you Jubilada
I haven't finished reading it all but one sentence sums it up. The best trip report ever. I'll be laughing in my sleep tonight.
That is totally inaccurate and unfair Adu. My trip report was seven times longer than that:
Good. Stay away from the balloon ride. (7 words)
Thank you French. Great, now I am keeping strangers up all night.
Cold
I just wanted this retort to be longer than your trip report.
Great trip report, thanks! Never been much interested in visiting Turkey, but now feel the need to visit some of these places ... and see those muscular German thighs ... oh, my!
Thanks Just. We all travel for different reasons.
I am not a stranger, just strange.
Adu, you should be proud as one of the first Americans to make a Frenchman laugh at anything other than an American.
Nobody realizes that you are not trying to be funny. They just believe that anyone with that name should write funny trip reports.
That is why Cold does not write any. The other day he actually put together all of three medium size sentences in a single post. I bet he had to go to bed and rest half a day afterwards.
i think you should finish this report before you forget everything. Of'course Andrea will have prepared maps with pins sticking at where you have visited and crumbles of food showing where you ate to remind you every week or so.
Hello FMT,
will you leave France for the first time and visit New York or Istanbul if i tell you that both Adu and i look like megaliths (small ones) and can even act like them, and that there are even better ones in our immediate neighborhood? Or, how about Canada? we have heard of a famous megalith there, which is rather allusive and difficult to observe, but there nevertheless.
yes, very entertaining report, made me smile
, looking forward to more! Enjoy your trip!
otherchelebi - I see my reputation as a megalith hunter has transcended the boundaries of the Fodors France forum. I would most certainly like to go to Istanbul to visit your megaliths and any megalith-like humans in your environs. Would this visit include a guided tour and home cooked meal like that given to Adu? This Canadian megalith sounds intriguing. Perhaps it will reveal itself one day, or maybe it's here hiding in plain sight.
To Adu and all the others be warned that I know all about your little club now and I know what you are up to. I shall check back on this report to insure that the quality of dialogue maintains a consistent standard. Those not adhering to the standard will be escorted to the Fodorite Lounge.
I am a megalith.
I am being threatned to be exiled to the Lounge.
Why? Because prople enjoyed the trip rport. How does this make sense?
I would respond but I am busy planning our next trip to Australia. Otherchelebi if that is anywhere near Turkey we will definitely drop in.
Hilarious report - I mean laugh out loud hilarious, which gets harder and harder to do these days. Thanks so much Adu, EJ
Sorry Adu. I think I've been misunderstood. I am one of the people who enjoyed this trip report. I often make no sense. I'll leave now.
French
This is just repartee, please stay and enjoy.
____________________________________
Thank you Elsie.
Adu - Having only been a member of the forum for several months now and due to my fear of being misunderstood in my obscure attempts at on-line humor I am painfully afraid of falling flat on my face should any of my posts backfire on me. I was so caught up in the spirit of your thread that I really wanted to be "one of the gang". You got me. Now everyone knows what an easy target I am.
On a more serious note, your style of traveling and reporting is the kind I like the most. Off the beaten path, full of adventure and experiences and lots of encounters with the locals.
I shall now pick my pride up from the dirt, dust it off and try to regain my intestinal fortitude as I prepare myself for more adventures and witty repartee. Maybe I'll even try to make another joke.
Thank you French and keep on participating.
We also had many experiences that were ordinary during the trip but were excluded. And I can't stand trip reports that record when people got up in the morning, when the flight arrived, and the number of bowl movements.
Don't forget to tell us what time you go to bed. I'm anxious to know.
Don't forget to tell us what time you go to bed. I'm anxious to know.
When the drugs kick in.
Bowl movements? Is that like curling?
Bowl movements? Is that like curling?
It an be, if there is no movement.
Lost Will and Testament
It is our last day in Turkey. We are sitting on the top floor of the hotel, eating breakfast in the glass closed dining area with dramatic views of the Blue Mosque and Ayasofya cloaked in the white/grey pontillistism of the morning. A pair of German women gather some bread and fruit from the buffet and as they walk to their table I wonder, what these two have been doing since Auschwitz closed. OK, I’m easily distracted but they did look like they left the crow bar in their room, so they cannot open their lips or thighs.
The nice thing about having your wallet stolen is that you do have to worry about it be taken again. I believe it was taken on the tram just hours after arriving in Istanbul. I put the wallet in my front pocket just to avoid this inconvenience. Afterwards, I purchased a decoy wallet, which had absolutely nothing in it. Thus, if I was pick pocketed again there would be a very disappointed crook. It is embarrassing, however, because I lost my NYPD Captain Benevolent Society shield. This gift was my get out of jail free card. I am hopeful I can get a replacement upon our return home.
I will not get hysterical like some posters who get pick pocketed in Spain or Italy who wish to urge the State Dept to recall our ambassador or command future visitors to wear steel underwear. It occurred but then we had a full and exciting week in Istanbul. After the theft Andrea carried her credit cards in a place that not even I would want to travel.
Between 12.5 and 15 million people live in Istanbul and most of them ride the tram when we needed it most. There is a frenetic energy in the narrow and few wide boulevards by everyone including the hordes of tourists. While Americans may not have “discovered” Turkey, the Germans, Spanish, Italians, and Japanese certainly have. While we too, of course, are tourists, we prefer not to travel in swarms and think that tour groups are elevated live forms who have special needs and are immune from basic social graces.
Otherchelebi (Other) invited us to his home for dinner and a spectacle view of Turkey’s Republic Day fireworks. Mrs. Other is so afraid of meeting serial killers from Fodor’s that she has concocted some story about a class reunion, although I think she is hiding in the linen closet. His beautiful daughter and boy friend join us. First there are many mezes with many tastes and textures; even the bread is elegantly arranged among the folds of a napkin in a basket. This is followed by exquisite lamb and uniquely prepared rice and rich desserts.
The fireworks filled the sky above the Bosporus and our view from on high made it more spectacular. Other then showed us his prized Mad magazine and Edward Whittemore collections. A most pleasant evening was had by all.
The following day Other conducted a personalized tour including the grounds of the university where he lectures. He claims they even give him a classroom for these purposes. We also visited a local market where Andrea and I were the only invited guests. There were leeks the size of bamboo shoots and fish that looked like they had a skin rash. We purchased some spices and made friends with many merchants who wanted us to take their picture. They also wanted me to send them a copy. It was a market without walls or individual addresses, so look for them soon on Picasa. We finished our day with a fabulous meal at one of Other’s favorite restaurants, Emek Manti Evi, whose specialty is Turkish ravioli. The main course was the raviolis or manti, one fried, one boiled separated by a river of flavored yoghurt. Other told the waiter I was a world renowned food critic. The yoghurt on my shirt was a direct proof of this and his claim was substantiated by the fact that I was quoted two years in a row in Fodor’s NYC Guide in the food section about a tapas bar on 10th Avenue. Since this guide is purchased in many English speaking countries I clearly qualify as an international reviewer.
On our way to the Blue Mosque the next morning a rug salesman in the guise of a rug salesman attached himself to us as our unofficial and totally unwanted guide and companion. He spouted standard facts and figures and his fawning made me itchy. Mosques are open expanses and elegantly simplistic as compared to churches and synagogues. The tiles and the great chandeliers are the attraction and it is meant to inspire awe. We told him we wanted to take pictures, so he suggested he would wait outside and then show us his rug shop, as if that was an inducement to see him again. He was annoyed that I feigned illness and did not want to go to his shop. No matter how religions try to entice and retain membership, they have too many rules. A devout Muslim must wash his face, hands, and feet three times before entering the Mosque, which could be the reason we did not see any French inside.
At breakfast we sat next to a young Tunisian couple. This was the first trip out of the country for the wife and next week, this week, the husband was making his first, and maybe only hajj to Mecca. They were from the city of Sfax and they were explaining how people from Sfax only married others from Sfax because of their regard for education and veneration of the old. Yes, there are million of Sfax jokes.
The following day we began our siege of Topkapi early. (It is pronounced Top-ka-PU, but you did not know that until know.) We raced to the Harem to beat the crowds. Unfortunately the crowds were at the Treasury. The Harem held at least 800 concubines; many had the Ottoman equivalent names of Tiffany and Glory. They lived under horrible conditions but the Sultan and his Mommy lived very well as did the chief concubine. The Treasury was most unpleasant spot where the pushing and shoving of the other tourists did not allow you to properly appreciate the decadence on display. The famous dagger with the mammoth emeralds was actually used in the movie with Peter Ustinov and looks a dagger a kid would design. It is not elegant but ostentatious.
One night we took in the Whirling Dervishes. It was staged in a museum dedicated to journalism. The first 20 minutes of the presentation was music by four musicians without the benefit of the whirlers. When the whirlers finally arrived, there was a rookie Dervish who was out of sync with the mesmerized veterans and appeared tired from the spinning class. They only turn counter clockwise which limits their repertoire. It is an odd spectator sport where you are watching others spin into a self-induced hypnotic state of mystical ecstasy, something like watching Glenn Beck. And then there is the whole enrichment of this earth and the well-being of humanity as a whole thing.
We also inspected the Egyptian Spice Market and the Grand Bazaar. We expected to see more RoleXXXes and Moe Vados than we did. The younger men are more aggressive in their limited English harassment, than their elders. The bazaars are divided into sections as to what they sell, all the jewelry stores, for example, are bunched together, as are the “hip hop” clothing stalls. They have special lighting that makes both the diamonds and the Turkish equivalent of QVC jewelry glitter.
On our next to last day we visited the Istanbul Modern. This five year old museum is dedicated to Turkish art of the last 90 years or so and we wanted a brief glimpse of what is considered important. After three weeks if being immersed in the past, it was a refreshing if not a jolting change. We are also curious in light of the recent Turkish president’s intent of spreading fundamentalism what would actually be on the walls. There are nudes, work from the Communist era, and many pieces influenced by western art. There were also many forms of moving art including documentaries and computer generation animation, which are more inventive than the oils and mixed media exhibits. When we asked why the museum was allowed to exist, we are told that few fundamentalists have memberships, even though there is 10% discount at the gift shop.
We then walked up a street that was a perpendicular climb. We were rewarded at the top of the hill when we discovered Istiklal Caddesi (Independence Avenue) one of Istanbul’s largest and busiest carless boulevards. This eventually narrowed into the musical instrument district of Istanbul. In one store we admired the workmanship of the instruments and asked many questions about the construction and the sounds. The saleswomen proudly said that her husband made them by hand. One youngish man demonstrated many stringed instruments including the saz, lute, and stick fiddle. I wanted to show him how to the change the sound by playing the saz like a slide guitar but I could only find a magic marker in the store which I ran up and down the neck of the instrument. But the fellow said he was familiar with American bluegrass and country music. We then walked across the street to buy some trinkets where a young woman asked if we needed help. We chatted with her and her sister, who also worked in the shop, about many things including their desire to walk Camino in Spain which Andrea accomplished two years ago and their hopes of becoming of becoming tour guides in Spanish and English. My impersonations of Spanish and English tourists did not discourage their aspirations. After an hour we exchanged e-mail addresses.
On the final afternoon in Turkey we visited Otherchelebi and his wife for some tea. She summoned enough courage to emerge from her closet. She was clearly rented as she was too pretty and smart to be associated with Other. She made a wonderful confection of semolina, honey, and nuts. Other gave us some spices and a replacement wallet. We said goodbye and hope that they stop in New York so we can in some small way reciprocate in kind.
Visiting Turkey is like attending a vocational school, you do not understand it until you actually do it. I have never felt more unprepared to visit a country, despite Andrea spending months on the Internet language site called Livemocha.com learning Turkish and trying to understand their past, culture, and topography. This glorious accident of geography and history has the remnants of many of the great civilizations, yet very little of its own. You visit structures layered with history that includes the Greeks, Romans, Christians, Muslims, and Hittites but modern Turkey is obscured some how. Troy, Mt. Ararat, the house where the Virgin Mary supposedly died, and large expanses of Roman ruins are all to be found here. The treasury at the Topkapi Palace boldly claims and displays the staff of Moses. Our friend Otherchelebi notes, even the later leaders of the Ottoman Empire were not Turkish. There is no sense of a modern Turkish style or design and while driving through the countryside, we did not see one town that was distinctly charming, intriguing, or enticing.
But it is that past and the warm and gracious Turks who made this country welcoming. But then again it took thousands of years to get to this moment and I am passing judgment on a narrow three week excursion.
Awesome. More later, as my parents are visiting right now.
So do you think it is too dangerous for the rest of us to visit Turkey? You know the wallet thing. Sounds like Barcelona.
They do not speak Turkish in Barelona.
In Barcelona, they have guys who have decoy wallet collections.
The one who picked up the wallet Adu had dropped through the folds of his belly probably thought Adu was a Turkish retiree and hence easy picking. imagine his surprise when he ended with not even the few bucks a retiree would have, but some fake NY drivers license and credit cards.
adu, i sincerely hope you managed to get all cards and license replaced with no problems, and with bona fide ones.
thanks again for the very human, very heart warming and well-written report. Please come again Andrea and bring adu with you also.
it will be harder for me to visit you in NY. I seem to have misplaced my wallet and cannot find it since the day you visited us.
it will be harder for me to visit you in NY. I seem to have misplaced my wallet and cannot find it since the day you visited us.
It cannot be misplaced if it is never sued.
__________________________
Believe or not I cracked a tooth last Sunday and went to the dentist on Monday and Motor Vehicles on Tuesday. I am not sure what I did wrong to you, but I apologize.
Otherchelebi lectures for pay (??) at a university or he just stands somewhere and babbles?
Other claims he gets paids for babbling, which is better than most of us.
A real pleasure to read. Thanks.
Daniel
Glad you enjoyed it.
Belated thanks to Aduchamp1 and everyone who contributed to this remarkable thread, with its mix of fact and fantasy, its blend of serious advice and playful comraderie, and its testament to the joys of travel and friendship and laughter. Kudos!
You are welcome.
Adu is still on Turkish time, a year later.
You are just angry because I had to clean up the mess you left in Turkey.
OK, Adu..yes, it was an unusual and yet excellent TR...
OC and Cold..I had the pleasure of meeting not only Adu, but his lovely wife and her two sisters, here in L.A. last week. Sort of a mini GTG and most enjoyable, taking in Farmers Market for lunch and the Getty Villa in Malibu.
stu
Tower - I am guessing Adu would have paid for lunch but he couldn't find his wallet?
Tower, I wish I could have warned you beforehand. Did he eat all of the Farmers market and the Getty Villa?
By the way, i have set up the first chapter of the Pataphysicists association in Turkey, as the president and sole member. Please make my day and call this "absurd"
I am also the president and sole member of the Solipsists Association.
Other Sartre Ionesco Beckett Genet Camus Prevert Pinter Chelebi
Other
To be honest, not only did El Cheapo buy my lunch (delicious crepes) but also for my ticket to Getty. I suppose he didn't want to be embarrassed in front of his charming sisters-in-law.
stu
You should have seen the sad look on Stu's face when he found out that you actually have to pay for food at a restaurant.
Other please note that you are the living member of your club except for the pervert guy.
Cold-you are the only person of this small misshapen group that I have met. Thank God.
That I have not met. Thank God.
I once was taken to a restaurant where one had to pay, also.
That guy you mention was not a pervert originally. It was exposure to people on these forums which elevated him to that status.
Good night Adu! Goodnight Cold! Goodnight Cheleb!
Until we meet again.