Ann Marie’s Istanbul

An English teacher on a biology trip? Go figure! I just returned from a school ecology trip to Dalyan, on Turkey’s Mediterranean coast. Lovely. More than lovely.

We arrived late, just in time to hear Turkey’s soccer team beat Croatia in overtime, winning a spot in the European Cup semi-finals. The streets immediately filled with celebrating fans honking, chanting, singing, and waving flags. The owner of the Metin Hotel found it a bit deli—crazy. We loved it.

Celebrating soccer fans in the streets of Dalyan

The first morning dawned bright—and hot. Temps were in the high 80’s and 90’s all four days (28 to 35 C.). Luckily, we were mostly in and on the water, the focus of this biology trip (the fourth annual) expertly organized by Gaby McDonald, a South African biology teacher at Robert College. Our eight students were joined by seven science teachers-in-training from Bilkent University (with supervisor Margaret Sands). The plan for the week included two days of hands-on biology activities with follow-up sessions, then two days of recreational adventures. We were also privileged with a night visit to the beach to see loggerhead turtles lay their eggs; the beaches are off-limits to anyone but researchers during the nesting season.

Gaby runs one of many information/feedback sessions on ecological studies.

Back to the first day. After an introductory session by Gaby and her assistant, Noah Billig, we slathered ourselves with sunscreen and walked three blocks to the wharf. Students carried the two huge wooden crates filled with scientific gear. Captain Ramazan welcomed us to our boat/classroom, and we marveled at the ornate tombs carved into the marble cliffs across the waterway. Gorgeous!

Picturesque marble Lycian tombs dominate the veiw from Dalyan.

The day was devoted to water samplings, vegetation surveys, and river current measurements—a mammoth task, in my mind. We moored near a group of sheep clustered in the shade, and from there the work began. One team hopped into a small boat with a long rope to measure the width of the river, then measure the depth at 5 meter intervals as they rowed back from the far shore.

Captain Ramazan rows two girls across the river to measure width and depth.

Another group set up meter-sized quadrants to survey the vegetation along the shoreline (and in the water).

Investigating vegetation within randomly-placed quadrants.

Once those tasks were completed, we headed out to the middle, where water samples were taken at varying depths and analyzed on a number of scales to determine clarity, salinity, phosphate content, etc.

Scientific equipment aids water measurements.

Lastly, six students jumped into the river to help measure the current. The rope with meter measurements was stretched along behind the boat, and pairs of students were posted at 5-meter intervals. Another student dropped two oranges into the water while a second used a stopwatch to time the oranges’ progression along the rope. The process was far slower than expected, and one orange did little but circle below the boat. Our determination was that the wind was counteracting the current or there was little current. We’d discuss possible reasons for it later.

Students continue water samplings from the boat/classroom.

We repeated the water quality tests halfway down the river, where we also wolfed down our lunch of tomato, cucumber, cheese, and salami sandwiches. The Turkish bread is always fresh and crusty, and beyaz peynir (white cheese) is delicious—YUM!!!

Finally, we reached the Mediterranean, where we were set free for a few hours to enjoy the beach and the waves. The sea was much more refreshing than the river’s warm water. We did one final water test just inside the inlet, then motored home with many exhausted students fast asleep.

Tourists enjoying Dalyan beach

After returning home we showered, napped, and held a follow-up session to analyze our data. It was clear that water temperatures, phosphates, and turbidity levels (lack of clarity) were higher upstream, away from the sea. Of course, this also contributed to higher vegetation levels. Students discussed the importance of controlling pollution in the river to maximize the populations of aquatic animals that contribute to the ecosystem.

Pensive students (Squeak and Ayse) during a feedback session.

We then enjoyed the hotel’s scrumptious buffet (mezes, Turkish hors d’oeuvres, are my favorite, so I focused on those). Later we gathered at a local karaoke bar for Gaby’s powerpoint on sea turtles, a focus of much of our research. Loggerhead turtles are amazing. They can live up to 200 years (though the average is 30-60) and can weigh up to 350 pounds. They reach sexual maturity at about 30, and females nest every three years, laying up to 35 pounds of eggs, often in three separate nests. Loggerheads often migrate thousands of miles, although the females return to the beach of their birth to lay their eggs. Recent satellite transmitter data has shown that Turkey’s turtles migrate to Tunesia. It’s interesting, too, to note that loggerhead hatchlings increase their weight more than 6000 times from birth to adulthood. If we did that, we’d weigh about 42,000 pounds.

Crab bait awaits.

Sunday was crabbing day. Ramazan piloted the boat as he tied chicken skin and a heavy nut (hardware) onto lengths of fish line. Once we were anchored in a choice location, the eight lines were thrown into the water around the boat.

Within minutes, five students were reeling in blue crabs, which Ramazan expertly netted and brought to the surface.

Captain Ramazan beams after netting a blue crab.

Gaby taught us how to determine the sex (yup—it’s pretty easy), whether the females were in berry (with eggs), and how to measure the carapace (shell). After noting all the features of each crab, its shell was marked with fingernail polish and it was placed in a bucket, where the morning’s catch soon became a knot of inter-connected pincers and shells. After an hour and a half, a mere 14 crabs had been caught. Ramazan dumped them back in the river to burrow into the mud.

Students measure and mark blue crabs (Ayça and Lal)

We once again headed to the beach for lunch and a swim—ah, the refreshing Mediterranean! The beach, by the way, has rules against putting up sun umbrellas, as they might bore into a turtle nest. They have permanent wicker umbrellas with wooden beach chairs available, otherwise it’s full-sun exposure.

Dalyan beach’s “official” beach umbrellas and chairs

We returned to our crabbing spot to catch crabs again, though with disappointing results—only 4 crabs caught. One of the four was already marked, so using the ratio of pre-caught to repeatedly caught crabs, we computed the population of the 100 square meter area to be about 52 crabs, the same computation as the previous year, although they had caught 50 (compared to our measly 18.) Interesting. Our biggest concern was that none of the females were in berry. Why?

After we returned to the hotel, we had another session to evaluate the results, and groups of students proposed methods of preserving the crab population (the loggerheads’ favorite food).

A post-discussion group photo of young biologists

That night half of us left for the beach with Bekir Bey, a ministry official who Gaby has worked with over the years of this project. Under his escort, we were able to get past the gates onto the beach, where a team of researchers from Pamukkale University are studying loggerhead turtles. They scout the 3-kilometer beach every night, watching for turtles that come in to nest. It’s important to catch each turtle before she covers her nest, as she does an incredible job of throwing sand behind her and over the nest, making it difficult to determine where it is. Although loggerheads are easily frightened away as they search for a nesting spot, once they begin laying, they are in for the count. As they lay their eggs, researchers take measurements and either mark new turtles or snip a sample of tissue from the hind flipper of turtles that have already been marked. Once the turtle has returned to the sea, the researchers dig down about six inches toward the well-covered nest and lay a metal grid over the nest to protect it from fox or other predators. The grid is spaced wide enough to allow the hatchlings to wriggle through, though narrow enough to prevent animals from stealing the eggs. In 55 days the researchers will revisit the nest, then try to protect the hatchlings as they head toward the sea. Unhatched eggs are used for study. Did you know that a sea turtle’s sex is determined by the temperature of the egg’s environment? Let’s see…I think the females are the hotter ones… (29 degrees is the dividing line.)

Photo from Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Loggerhead_close_up.jpg

The moon rose around midnight, charming the beach as we waited to see our turtle lay her eggs. She laid her eggs quickly, so researchers had to do measurements as she headed back to the sea. I wasn’t allowed to use a flash, but I got a few time exposures in the dark that showed the her silouhette as they worked with her.

Time exposures of our female loggerhead turtle being measured after leaving her nest

Our last two days were fun, fun, fun. Monday we went white-water rafting (a 3-hour drive, but WELL worth it.)

Rafting photos by Alternatif Outdoor Rafting

On the last day we went sea kayaking, a new adventure for most of us. I could have stayed out there all day, but we paddled for only a few hours, exploring one of the most picturesque coves of the area.

Too much information, I know—but it was WONDERFUL! I learned a lot about turtles, about ecological balance, and about traveling and adventuring with Turkish kids. I was once again reminded of Turkey’s varied and spectacular scenery.

Thank you, Gaby!

I’m going to the Asian side to visit friends this evening (about 8 miles as the crow flies), and believe it or not, it’s FAR faster to do the trip by ferryboat than to hazard the Istanbul traffic. It’s one of the beauties of living on the Bosphorus. Let’s see…would I rather stand, sweating, on an overcrowded bus as it creeps along the shore road, or sit on the open deck of a ferry boat with a fresh Bosphorus breeze on my face? Hmmm…

My view overlooking the Bosphorus (Kuleli Military Academy)

The Bosphorus has become a huge part of my life here in Istanbul. Not only does it provide transportation and a lovely place to walk, it offers a spectacular view from the Robert College campus. What a lift it is to look out over the Bosphorus from the school each day—unreal! Though it’s an altitudinal challenge, I have resolved to walk down to the Bosphorus every day—just because I can. My record is slightly less than perfect, but it’s been great.

A Bosphorus sailing regatta—a rare occurrence, happening only a few times a year.

It’s amazing to live above the busiest waterway in the world. Although it’s actually a strait, it looks more like a huge river with hills towering on each side. Twenty miles long, the Bosphorus is always busy with tour boats (speakers blaring in every language), ferries (much quieter), day/night cruises (traveling cocktail and dinner parties), and commercial ships plying the lanes both north and south. Some of the container ships are of mind-boggling size, to say the least. And believe me, they leave a mega-wake.

The bustling, busy Bosphorus–at Rumeli Castle

The Bosphorus connects the Black Sea with the Sea of Marmara (about the size of Lake Superior). It has formidable currents—I often see the water’s surface churning. Apparently there are double currents, with less saline waters flowing down from the Black Sea at a velocity of 1-2 m per second, while the Maramara’s more saline, denser water flows north at lower depths nearly four times as fast (from the Encyclopedia of Ukraine). Expert Bosphorus pilots are ferried out to each ship as it enters the waterway to guide them up (or down) the Bosphorus, disembarking at the other end to board another ship for the trek back.

A spectacular yalı (Bosphorus waterfront mansion)

But the charm of the Bosphorus is more than that; it’s the lovely yalı (old mansions) along the water, the fishermen (and women) casting along the quay, and the pleasure boats.

Fishermen on the quay…

…and others fishing from boats.

It’s seaside restaurants and tea gardens, the ever-changing lights on the first bridge, and the ornate Ortaköy mosque. It’s beautifully lit historical buildings at night—ah, the Rumeli Castle (I just learned that “rumeli” means European, with roots back to the Orthodox Christians), and the moon rising over the hills.

My friend Annie and her daughter, Jess at the Rumeli Castle

Unfortunately, it has some problems. It’s choked with jellyfish and too much trash, which will hopefully change before long. (Istanbul is making great strides in recycling and clean-up.)

Jellyfish abound in the lee of the yachts along the quay.

My home at Robert College in Arnavutköy overlooks the Bosphorus, with the Kuleli Military School dominating the view, especially when it’s lit at night.

It’s amazing. It’s inimitable. It’s the Bosphorus.

My night view—Ah! The Bosphorus!

In early April my friend Marnie told me to set aside May 27th for a big event at the Koç School. When I realized it was a Tuesday I was disappointed. The trip from my home on the European side of Istanbul to hers on the easternmost Asian side is long; though only 20 miles, it’s about 3 hours on public transport— a daunting trip for a school night. I changed my attitude, though, when she said it was a live music event. THAT would be worth the trek!

I caught a school service bus to the Asian side of the Bosphorus (only 45 minutes), then hopped on the train to Pendik (another 45, including the wait). I walked four blocks up to the bus “station,” where I was the first to board the next blue mini-bus. Another 20 minute wait, and I was on the 40-minute ride to the Koç School. It had taken me 2 ½ hours from Robert College to the Koç School, record time for afternoon rush hour. Lucky me!

As I checked in at the gate, familiar smiles greeted me, eager for news of my life since Koç. In my limited Turkish I managed a short account before starting the trek across campus to the Paulus’ house.

The guards’ warm welcome brightened my walk along the familiar sidewalks and lawns—nostalgia hit as I cut through the student commons, a huge glass pyramid that joins the major wings of the high school. On my way through, I noticed a poster for Brooks Williams, the headliner for the school’s upcoming talent show. Hmmm…

Brooks beams at his audience.

Marnie and Tony welcomed me with warm hugs and introduced me to their friend Brooks Williams. In the flesh. He’s actually just a regular guy, though I was soon to learn an incredibly talented one. Brooks was the featured event for the evening of backyard music. The Pauluses have known him for years, and he interrupted a musical tour of England to buzz down and join them in Istanbul for a week. An accomplished acoustic guitarist and folk singer, his music is reminiscent of Leo Kotke or John Fahey—my favorites—and he’s that good, too. (Check him out at http://www.myspace.com/redguitarbluemusic .)

The Koç School’s two Davids enjoy Brooks’ folk strumming.

I basked in the warmth of good friends at Koç—about 20 or 30 teachers, staff, administrators, and their lovely children. We were wined and dined with an impressive spread of fabulous mezes (Turkish hors d’oeuvres), then congregated outdoors for music. Ahhhh…Music!

The perfect way for folks to enjoy guitar…

Brooks awed us with both voice and guitar for nearly an hour as the sun sank over the hills of Istanbul, then two local musicians, Tolga and Erdem, took center stage with Turkish folk music. They demonstrated some fascinating percussive techniques, which were great fun. Then, of course, the three guitarists joined together for a jam session, a delightful finale to the evening—which ended far too soon for my tastes.

Tolga and Erdam “strut their stuff”.

The next night brought more live music, this time on my side of the Bosphorus for dinner and jazz. I arrived at Eminönü about an hour early (you never know how long a trip will take with Istanbul traffic), so I headed for the Rustem Paşa Mosque (a favorite spot) to relax in the breezy shade of its second-story courtyard. Lo and behold, who should walk in but Tony, Marnie, Brooks, and Mesure (a Turkish friend from Koç), also early arrivals to the city. Speaks to the charm of the Rustem Paşa, doesn’t it?

The outdoor prayer terrace at Rustem Paşa Mosque

Rustem Paşa interior: a man at prayer

After enjoying the mosque, Mesure treated us to a delicious array of culinary delights at the Hamdi Restaurant (a traditional favorite), then after dinner Brooks and I worked off a bit of our dinner with a trek across the Golden Horn and up the cobbled lanes to Nardis, a night club just below the Galata Tower, where we met others for an evening of jazz (and, of course, rakı—a traditional Turkish drink).

The Nardis was great, but how can you beat the intimacy of good friends at a backyard concert? It just can’t be done, not even in Istanbul.

Yup! Great tunes!

And—tonight I’m going to a Jethro Tull concert. Imagine that!

I just returned from a whirlwind tour of Vilnius, Lithuania. I know—“Where the heck is that?” you ask. It’s south of Latvia, west of Russia, and borders on the Baltic Sea. My niece Laura drew me there; she’s at the Vilnius University on an exchange from Melbourne.

Laura had said Vilnius was lovely, but I wasn’t prepared for what awaited me. Especially after the circus in Moscow. I took a night flight (duh!), punctuated by a full three hours of being confused, ushered, hushed, and told to wait—by no less than 9 different Moscow airport employees (plus one chauffer). The long and short of it is that in spite of NO smiles or clear communication, I made it from my first flight to a connecting flight to Vilnius. WHEW! I could definitely feel the influence of many years of a communist regime. Inefficient would be an understatement.

Anyway, Laura met me at the Vilnius airport, and after a HUGE warm hug, I was ready for adventure. I’d shown Laura Istanbul, and now it was her turn to play tour guide. She was good!

a typical Vilnius street

After dropping our things at our hotel, we were off! Laura led me through the winding streets of old Vilnius, one of the largest surviving medieval cities in Northern Europe. (According to Wikipedia, its 70 streets and lanes cover 887 acres and encompass 1487 buildings.) It’s an amazing conglomeration of buildings in gothic, renaissance, baroque, and neoclassical styles—amazing! Vilnius University, where Laura is studying, is a formidable complex over 400 years old. Imagine!

Relaxing with a cup of coffee at  Skonis ir Kvapis

Our first stop was breakfast (late) at Laura’s favorite teahouse, Skonis ir Kvapis (Smells and Tastes), tucked neatly inside a courtyard. This charming restaurant with its foot-thick walls, vaulted ceilings, and antique décor was the perfect spot for us to unwind, reconnect, and plan our four-day weekend together.

It’s hard to say what were my favorite things—there were many! The beauty of Vilnius is that it’s yet an undiscovered gem: tourism has not yet engulfed the city—but it will. Vilnius clearly rivals Prague in both beauty and charm, yet it’s FAR cheaper and more provincial. The city has a population as small as 300,000, half of which must live and work in the Old Town.

 St. Nicholas Church facade

Saturday evening we stumbled into a Russian Orthodox service at St. Nicholas’ Church, just blocks from our hotel. The religious fervor of the participants was awe-inspiring, though not suprising in a country where religious worship was prohibited by the communist party for over 50 years until 1991.

a St. Nicholas Church dome

Crystal clear choral voices swelled from above as the priest infused his dimly-lit sanctuary with incense. There were a good many crossings and bowings by the standing supplicants, men and women of all ages. The decorations in the church were impressive—many obviously precious religious relics.

Next our meanderings brought us to St. Theresa’s Catholic Church, a baroque affair where young children in white robes must have been receiving their first communion—a celebration we’d seen evidenced both Saturday and Sunday all through the city.

Laura then led me to the Gates of Dawn, the last existing gate (of ten) to the city.

The Gates of Dawn

Over the gate is a small chapel with a famous gilt icon, The Blessed Virgin Mary Mother of Mercy, which dates from the early 17th century. As people pass under the gate, they often turn to cross themselves in homage to this holy shrine.

The Blessed Virgin Mary Mother of Mercy

After giving some change to a beggar, we were approached by a friendly, bearded Russian who invited us to a nearby monastery. Who were we to refuse?

our host for the Russian monastery

We were treated to yet another service in an extravagant baroque cathedral, the likes of which I’ve never seen. The entire frontpiece was a flowing, gilt-edged green with three ornately gilded gates, behind which stood the altar. The entire sanctuary was filled with icons, paintings, and shrines, many of which are valuable religious treasures. I later learned that it was The Church of the Holy Spirit, the major Russian Orthodox Church of Lithuania. Its importance was evidenced by the seven red-robed priests who officiated at the service.

The Church of the Holy Spirit Divine Service

I must apologize for the fact that I surreptitiously snapped a few photos before I saw a small sign (the next day) saying “During the Divine Service, walking, talking, and taking pictures inside the church is not allowed.” Oops. I’m sorry. I hate to be disrespectful.

Church of the Holy Spirit, daytime

Laura and I also attended a concert that twice moved me to tears: the first during “Orawa” by Polish composer, Wolciech Kilar, and the second during George Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue,” which I’ve always loved. The Vilnius Symphony Orchestra is incredible.

Church of St. Michael and St. Konstantine

Another memorable experience was our hike to the Church of St. Michael and St. Konstantine, an onion-domed church (with bright green domes) built in 1913 to commemorate the 300th anniversary of the Romanov Dynasty. It was pretty cool, as well as a lovely walk. We even passed a monument to Frank Zappa. Go figure!

some of Vilnius’ many steeples and crosses

My final adventure was a climb up a narrow winding staircase to a tower above the Vilnius University Library. Laura had been brought up there on a tour, and she led me up into a tiny tower for a spectacular view of the city, even more interesting than the view we’d had from the Vilnius Castle Tower.

Oh, there were countless wonderful things we saw and did—too many to note. All I can say is that I’m confident Vilnius is close to being one of Europe’s favorite tourist destinations. I’m just glad I got there when a beer was still under two dollars.

Amber, evident in street markets, shops, and museums of Vilnius

After waving my own precious houseguests goodbye last weekend (Pat and Phil Kruse— lovers of history, adventure, good food, and rakı), I headed south. I spent the weekend with a Turkish family in Gemlik, a city nestled in the mountains north of Bursa on a picturesque bay of the Sea of Marmara. My young friend Uygar Yilmaz’s parents, Neziye and Hakki, have a charming apartment perched on the hill overlooking the sea, and they showed me the best of their community, their family, and Turkish cuisine. I may never eat again!

It took me longer to get there than I’d hoped—five hours to travel 60+ miles (105 km). Well, the long and short of it is that after a bus ride, a ferry ride, and three more bus rides, I finally got to Gemlik. My hosts were worried about me, expecting I’d arrive hours earlier. No matter—we sat down to a 10:00 (delectable) dinner of çorba (soup), dolma (stuffed vegetables), fried artichoke hearts, salad, bread, and dessert. Oh, MY! I felt a bit like the dolma I’d just devoured.

Neziye entertains us with her ud, her songs, and a poem about her sons.

After marveling at Neziye’s incredible artwork, wearing Uygar out translating for us, and being serenaded by Neziye singing and playing her ud (a rounded 10-stringed instrument), we finally headed to bed in the wee hours.

My favorite of Neziye’s paintings of women of the world

Our day started with a delicious gözleme breakfast (with, of course, olives, tomatoes, and cucumbers). After cleaning up (they never let me help), we all hopped in the car for a tour. We started at Küçükkumla (Little Sandy Place), a seaside village where we strolled along the seaside. As I was snapping photos of the myriad roses that graced every garden, a woman leaned across her gate to offer me one. How sweet! And how very Turkish. I was given roses by three women this weekend: Neziye (when I arrived), this woman, and a young English teacher who practiced her English with me on the bus. She said the rose reminded her of Mohammed. Hmmm…

A profferred rose

From there we drove to the workshop of Dr. Tankut Öktem, a famous and recently deceased sculptor. An impressive collection of bronze-looking statues line the roadside, nestled in the trees. Students continue his work, and inside the warehouse-sized workshop they were building a huge fiberglass image of Ataturk’s face—probably 15 feet across.

Uygar poses next to one of Öktem’s many sculptures.

Next we drove up to Umurbey, a small mountain village above Gemlik. There we visited an outdoor restaurant where each table is housed in its own small cabin perched on the side of the hill, complete with a built-in mangal (barbecue). We could see for miles in every direction. Further up the mountain Neziye and Hakki have land with fruit trees, olive trees, and a small garden. Retired teachers, they’ve always had time off in the summer to tend their garden. (Teachers can retire in their 40’s in Turkey—with an unenviable pension.) Uygar said that most Gemlik residents have a plot of olive trees on the mountain.

Uygar and I then hopped on a bus to Bursa, where I got a royal tour. We saw the Silk Han (Koza Han), the Great Mosque (Ulu Camii), the Covered Bazaar, the Green Mosque (Yeşil Camii), and the famous tombs and clock tower on Tophane, a lovely citadel that overlooks the entire city.

The Ulu Camii, decorated with amazing calligraphy

The Koza Han (silk bazaar)

Let me tell you, by the end of the day we were BUSHED! Luckily, my grey hair got me a seat on the bus for the long ride home. (Uygar’s mother had advised me to grow out my hair and dye it. And stand on the busses? No, thank you!) I was surprised to see that the vast majority of women in Bursa were scarved. Much different than Istanbul!

Neziye had a delicious meal waiting for us when we got home, after which we rolled ourselves into bed. What a day!

After breakfast, Uygar and I took a long stroll along the waterfront, then returned home for yet another impressive Turkish meal, this time with friends. (I tried to keep up with their Turkish conversation, but fell dismally short of comprehension).

a small marina along the Marmara shore

Then, a bus ride home, thanks to Hakki’s fast talking. He was a real hero, given the waiting crowd and only one open seat (which I got). Turkish busses are nicer than Greyhounds; the inside is more like an airplane than a bus, and a steward (quite handsome, dressed in white shirt and tie) serves soft drinks and tea with cookies or cake. The only problem is that there’s no rest room, so you have to hold it. Luckily, there was a rest room on the ferry. Whew! Otherwise busses make a rest stop every three hours or so. It’s a matter of careful planning (which I often forget).

Well, there’s my weekend Banging around Bursa with the Yilmaz family.

Istanbul is about people, about history and about—yes, WATER! This may be the only major city that is both divided and surrounded by water. The Sea of Marmara borders Istanbul on the south, while the Bosphorus divides the European side from the Asian side, connecting to the Black Sea on the north. The European side of the city is divided into two more sectors by the Golden Horn. Water, water everywhere.

The Kadiköy-Eminönü Ferry, with the Aya Sofya (Haghia Sophia) behind it

The dilemma this creates, though, is transport. This city of over 11 million people has continuous comings and goings, and less than a fourth of its residents own cars. Two bridges span the Bosphorus, connecting the two continents (in a veritable traffic nightmare), while an intricate system of ferries totes the majority of commuters across the water from one side to the other. It’s also a great way to bypass the traffic jams that plague Istanbul.

Bridge across the Bosphorus

A private Ninja Turtle shuttle near the Ortaköy Mosque

Having spent my first two years on the Asian side, I first became familiar with the ferries from Kadiköy. Huge two and three-story ferryboats cross the Bosphorus about every half hour to Eminönü (the historical European side—Sultanahmet and the Grand Bazaar), with others heading to Karaköy (across the Golden Horn from Eminönü). Those ferries carry anywhere from a few hundred to a few thousand people. Two weeks ago I rode one with a mob of fans after a Fenerbahçe match—what a rush THAT was!

Fenerbahçe Fans fill the ferry–happily!

27 ferry stations serve the Marmara and the Bosphorus, with additional fast ferries serving points around the busier spots. You can also hire a water taxi, though I’ve only managed it once after missing the ferry from Eyup (near the end of the Golden Horn). My friends and I would have missed a Whirling Dervish performance, so we hired a little wooden skiff-taxi that I’m convinced was propelled by an inboard lawnmower motor. We arrived at our destination safe, though a bit chilly.

Our Golden Horn private shuttle leaves from our destination. Note the inboard motor. Hmmm…

A ferry ride across the Bosphorus can be a lovely experience, particularly on a warm, sunny day. The ferry offers outside seating on benches along the perimeter and more outdoor benches at one end of the upper level, though the majority of the seating is inside. There’s a small concessionary on the second level, with a waiter who circulates throughout the ferry selling tea in glass tulip cups for about 50 cents. The ride usually takes about a half hour, a chance to relax and enjoy the water, the gulls, and views of Topkapı Palace, the Aya Sofya, and the Süleymaniye Mosque that dominate the city. The dance of ferries as they navigate around each other is amazing; only once did we nearly collide.

Ferries crossing, viewed from the outdoor upper deck
There are a few more modern ferries that cross the Marmara Sea, connecting Istanbul with Bursa and areas to the south. The Marmara (which means “marble”) is about the size of Lake Superior, though significantly warmer (and safer). There has been talk of modernizing all of Istanbul’s ferry boats, but people are hesitant to give up the charm of the city’s old ships. I understand. It would be sad to see them go. The newer ships that cross the Marmara are pleasant, but more like an airplane than a boat.

The Gebze-Yalova ferry across the Marmara

Now that I live on the Bosphorus, I’ve taken ferries from Beşiktaş to Üsküdar, as well as smaller rides between the nearby communities of Bebek and Emirgan. Ortaköy offers a small tourist ferry ride all summer, where for a mere 5 lira you can ride up the Bosphorus to the next bridge and back down, just to relax and enjoy the beauty of the Bosphorus. It’s grand.

What could be more Turkish than this!

At the risk of redundancy, I must share more of my floral enthusiasm. Last Sunday some friends and I walked up to Emirgan Park (my third trip), and we were totally WOWED by the displays. Tulipmania abounds in Istanbul.

After a two-hour walk along the Bosphorus (with a welcome stop for tea and treats), we wended our way through the tea gardens of Emirgan up to the south end of the park. Coming in the side entrance wasn’t all that spectacular, but it made for a much more gradual hike up to the summit. After passing well-peopled playgrounds and picnic areas, we found the tulips. Tulips, tulips, tulips.

They were everywhere, hillside after hillside planted in spectacular arrangements—blossoms of every shape and hue. Gorgeous! Music drew us up even higher—live music. Hooray! Much to our amazement, we emerged on a huge plaza replete with 7-foot tulip sculptures, each painted a unique design by its own Turkish artist. Too fun!

As we wandered through the tulip forest, Libby was deluged by admirers. Children were mesmerized by her, each tentatively reaching to pet her soft fur. Few Turkish people have indoor pets, though street dogs and cats are well cared for by the country’s many animal lovers. Consequently most children find dogs both frightening and fascinating. It wasn’t long before Libby and I were surrounded by children (and their parents), all asking her name, whether she bites, how old she is, etc., etc., etc. At one point Libby looked a bit panicked, but she managed to maintain her company manners. (She loves children.)

One little girl shadowed us for nearly a half hour. Four-year-old Elif was quite taken with Libby, and her father explained to me that his wife is “very clean and doesn’t want a pet in the house.” He and his daughter obviously love animals, and it was clear that Libby was the highlight of Elif’s park visit. (My Turkish has improved to the point that I can actually carry on a limited conversation. Surprise.)

We sat to listen to the music, soft Turkish rock. The sun beamed down as children played, adults sipped tea, and we all reveled in the magic of this lovely afternoon. It continues to strike me how very much people are alike across the globe—this could have been anywhere.

The drawback of having Libby with us was that we couldn’t sit in one of the park’s shaded outdoor restaurants to indulge in French fries—no dogs allowed. Hmphhhh! Oh, well. We walked down to another music venue and found another snack line. Unfortunately, it was about a mile long. We opted for cheese gözleme (like crepes or lefse fried with cheese inside) from vendors outside the park.

Trees, too, are in bloom, both in the park and on campus. I don’t have the names of all of them, but everyone’s favorite is the Joshua tree, with branches clad in brilliant pink blossoms. There’s also a tree with pale pink carnation-like blossoms, and another with elegant blooms whose fuschia petals reach skyward like fingers, revealing their light-colored insides. I have no idea what it is, but it’s gorgeous.

On campus we have a lavender-blossomed tree called a Pavlovya tree. (Definitely a tree to salivate over.) Last but not least is the wisteria, which is in its full glory this week—huge purple clusters that look a bit like grapes drooping across entrances and draping from trees.

Flowers, flowers, everywhere—Istanbul is in its full glory!

Ah, Kapadokya! (Capadoccia) It was a glorious five days, although the sunshine was intermittent and we were a bit short on sweaters. I trekked there with three friends from the States: Sue Nordman (her fourth trip to Turkey), Annie DeBevec (second trip), and Annie’s daughter Jess (first trip). After exploring Istanbul for a few days, we headed to Cappadocia’s lovely Kelebek Hotel, with rooms renovated from original cave dwellings—amazing. Our suite even had a Jacuzzi bath, though using it meant a totally doused bathroom. Oh, well.

We stayed more than busy, mostly hiking and eating, with a bit of shopping sprinkled in. Jess and Susie came home with gorgeous rugs, both beaming after their purchases at Sultan’s Carpets, owned by everyone’s friend Mehmet.

Mehmet, our favorite rug dealer, displays his wares

Our first day we took a tour of the area, a geological wonder. Water and wind have carved amazing limestone and basalt formations of nearly every size and shape into a maze of valleys. We visited an underground city built by Christians for protection from invading armies of Romans and Muslims. Meandering through tiny passageways down about four stories, we were told that it went down many levels further—unbelievable! We saw underground stables, kitchens, sleeping rooms, and wineries—everything a community might need for months spent underground.

Susie, Annie, me, Ali, and Jess rest our weary legs in the underground city

After that we stopped for a delectable meal of soup, bread, and a traditional lamb stew slow-cooked in pottery (which was cracked open to serve). YUM! Afterwards we visited a ceramics factory, then explored two more sites with a variety of rock formations.

Sun shines over the amazing natural sculptures of Cappadocia

A Cappadocia fairy chimney

We finished our day with a hike down through the Rose Valley, named for the rose-colored stone along its rim. It felt a bit like the Grand Canyon, only smaller. Our guide, Ali, showed us the numerous cave homes and hermitages carved into its rock formations. The hike was challenging—a welcome change from walking Istanbul’s streets. That night Annie and Jess succumbed to exhausted sleep while Susie and I went dancing.

The little niches are pigeon roosts, used to collect droppings for fertilizer.

The next day we wandered Göreme, shopping, eating, and getting haircuts—serious haircuts. Sue and I came away feeling a bit like guys, but it’ll grow back. Later that afternoon we explored a valley behind our hotel, discovering chapels, rooms, and more hermitages. Though we had resisted using the word “phallic” on the previous day’s tour, it finally emerged. It was inevitable, I guess. We gradually climbed nearly to the rim of the valley, and we had a bit of a harrowing trek back down. We made it, though, laughing all the way.

Exploring among fairy chimneys behind our hotel

On Wednesday we opted for another hike—this time along the Ihlara Valley, again with our friend Ali. The Ihlara Valley was quite different from what we’d seen, with a picturesque stream running along our 7-kilometer hike. Ali led us up rocky precipices to hidden churches and hermitages we’d have never discovered on our own. I tried to envision it hundreds of years ago when it was bustling with activity.

Remains of an ancient cathedral in the Ilara Valley

Near the end of our hike we ran into villagers gathering wood and working in small garden plots before we happened upon a lovely river’s-edge restaurant, where we enjoyed a delicious meal in the welcoming sunshine.

A hard-working woman we met along the Ilara Valley

We finished the day with a tour of Selime Kalesi a high maze of carved-out rooms and chapels that date back 1200 years (This castle monastery may be the largest religious structure in Cappadocia). I’m sure many died from slipping off the precipices that surround this amazing castle carved into the mountaintop. It was a bit scary at times.

Climbing up into the Selime Kalesi, a mountaintop monastery.

The rain just started as we headed home for a glass of wine with some Koç School friends in the hotel’s cozy lobby.

On our last night we took in a Turkish Night extravaganza, a bit fearful of mediocre food and entertainment. We were the first to arrive, four women alone in the huge dining hall, even more uncertain of what lay ahead. We decided to make the best of it. Well, we were thrilled to discover that the food was fabulous and the entertainment even finer. We saw an abbreviated Mevlana Ceremony (whirling dervish), a belly dancer, and a phenomenal troupe of folk dancers (probably five or six different performances, each with more amazing costumes and spectacular footwork.) We could barely keep up with our meal, which was served course by course throughout the evening. Afterwards, we danced well into the wee hours. Lucky us!

I DO love Turkey, and what joy to share it with friends.

Three happy campers on the Kybele terrace: me, Annie, and Susie. Such larks!

As my friends back in Minnesota shovel yet another few inches of snow off their decks, I marvel at each new blossom on the Robert College Campus. Today we had a fire drill—remember them from your school days? Well, they’ve always been a part of my life. The entire school filed (relatively quietly) out to a small outdoor arena where attendance was taken, we were told it wasn’t a drill after all (Hmmm…today was April Fool’s Day), and we were excused to return to the building. At any rate, on my way back up to the school, I passed a tree covered in huge, lavender trumpet-shaped blossoms, each a few inches long. It was gorgeous—something I’ve never seen. A number of the trees here blossom before any leaves emerge, and the result is spectacular, particularly to one unaccustomed to leaves until the first of June!

Just outside my window is a tree lined with yellow blossoms (though this one has leaves), and on the other side of the building is a bush garbed in brilliant red blooms. Nearly every plant seems to have some kind of bud or blossom. In Minnesota I’d know the names of them all, but here I just marvel. Even the budding leaves here fascinate me—so different! (One pesky plant is familiar—bedstraw, better known to me as Velcro plant—which clings to Libby’s fur every time she ventures off the path. ARAUGHHH!!!!)

As I wander with my camera, Libby’s mission is the campus cats, most of whom know her too well. A little black cat escaped into a tree the other day; chalk one up for Libby. Reportedly our campus hosts seventy cats (mostly strays), nearly equal to the population of on-campus staff. No stray dogs, though—only pets. We even have a cat committee, pledged to catch and neuter every last one. Seems a monumental task, especially as I hear the Tomcats’ lustful yowls at night.

I hear something else at night here, too: the melodic strains of a songbird. Could it be a nightengale? That, too, is a new experience for me, a warm welcome as I wearily climb the long hill to my apartment after a night on the town.

One last note—another sign of spring in Istanbul. While walking with friends near Taksim, we saw a huge crowd of people (mostly men) standing on an overpass. Fishing? Emergency? Accident? Nope. It was the uphill soccer fan crowd, enjoying free nosebleed spots above the stadium—standing room only. There were even police to control the crowd of hundreds. Too funny!

We bypassed the cheering soccer crowds to visit the Pera Museum, where we browsed through a fascinating exhibit of the works of Czech photographer Josef Koudelka. Our tour finished with a flourish: a goodly gawk at The Tortoise Trainer by Osman Hamdi Bey. One of my favorite paintings, it was purchased four years ago by the Koç family for $3,500,000 (certainly the most valuable Turkish painting). I’ve read that it depicts Hamdi Bey’s frustration with Ottoman leaders of his time, intimating that they were as difficult to change (westernize) as training tortoises with a flute (turtles can’t hear, you know, and their hard shells protect them from prodding).

Osman Hamdi Bey was not only a gifted painter, but he was also an intellectual who organized numerous archeological digs in Anatolia (later Turkey) and founded the Istanbul Archeological Museum. Pretty impressive (in spite of the leaders who thwarted his efforts).

We ran into a few friends at the Pera and trekked off together for wine and a light meal in a quaint rooftop café a few blocks away. It was a good day. A great day.

Since my computer fiasco put me a bit behind in my weekly missives, I decided to share a piecemeal look at the past few weeks. I’ve been exploring the area, connecting with old friends, and making new ones. All in all, life is good here in Istanbul.

I joined a group trek to the Halk Art Copper Factory (my third visit) a few weeks ago and came away with some exciting finds. After exploring the entire three stories of new and antique copper wares (thousands of items), the salesmen carried our finds down to their showroom, which displays just one or two of each item. My favorite find was a project for the future. I purchased 40 assorted tempered copper squares that will become a mirror frame once I get home. The copper factory’s ready-made mirrors are gorgeous, but they weigh a ton (serious shipping expense). My other purchases (mostly gifts) were less heavy, but nearly as beautiful.

Copper warehouse shelves of antiques

Halk Art wares in their showroom

Let’s see—I’ve also been doing daily hikes with Libby, morning and evening. We walk down to the Bosphorus every day, and often we head up to the plateau, arguably the most gorgeous spot on campus. Beautifully manicured trees and lawn surround a new running track, but the highlight is an incredible vista overlooking the Bosphorus.

The spectacular view from the plateau

Last week (March 18th) was a Turkish holiday, Çanakkale Day, which marks the Turkish victory over the allied forces at the end of World War I. It was shortly after this bloody battle (Aussies marked particularly huge losses) that Mustafa Kemal Atatürk founded the Turkish Republic. On Turkish holidays every public building is draped with Turkish flags and huge banners of Atatürk, and Robert College is no exception. The patriotism in this country is impressive, in spite of the threat of a growing movement against Atatürk’s secular principles.

Atatürk graces Robert College’s Gould Hall

Last Friday I ferried to the Asian side with a few Robert teachers for a performance of Jean Anouihl’s Antigone at Üsküdar Academy. It which was a fascinating modern version of Sophocles play, adapted to World War II. Afterwards, we ferried back to the European side to catch some wine and spirited conversation (there’s little of the former to be had in Üsküdar).

Saturday I spent the day with Tony and Marnie Paulus, friends who will be leaving Istanbul for a new life in Florida. I showed them around the campus, then we basked in the sun, enjoying the spectacular view of the Bosphorus. Next we headed up to the park at Emirgan to check out the latest development in tulips (lovely—again!)

Not exactly a tulip, but gorgeous nonetheless—

(Actually it’s Fritillaria imperialis rubra maxima, in case you care!) 

From there we headed to Sultanahmet and wandered near the Grand Bazaar. As Koç School Director, Tony seldom gets to explore these areas, and he enjoyed it. We capped off our day with a dinner at the Taş Han’s Arkat Night Club—stageside seats, (thanks to my friend Kemal Ocak) for a floor show for singing, belly dancing, folk dancing, and EVERYBODY dancing. It was great fun, but we old fogies bowed out long before the bulk of the crowd.

Yet another Turkish flower

As you can see, I’m staying busy. I’ve devoted much of the past two weeks to correcting Yearly Homework Projects, poetry projects, and English exams. (I figure about 30 hours total.) I try to keep my paperwork at school, but during exam time, it’s impossible. Ah, well, I chose to be an English teacher, didn’t I? I’m not complaining, mind you. I still love teaching, and heck—it’s my ticket overseas!