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 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.

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!

Two Women and five Greek Islands

After a bit of a bump (illness—poor, poor Susie), the two of us headed for the Greek islands two days late. We took a bus from Izmir to Cesme (CHESH-may), and hopped on the ferry to Chios, Greece.

Though my heart remains with the warm people of Turkey, I couldn’t help but be charmed by the light-spirited Greeks. It was a pleasant shock to see women operating as equals with men—waiting tables, driving motorbikes, and working in shops. This was quite a shift from Turkey, where nearly all service workers are male (though women are well-represented in the professional world). I was also surprised to see the ample physiques of the Greeks—obesity is rare among young Turks. A friend told us that the Greeks are the heaviest of the European populations. My theory is that their diet relies more heavily on olive oil and bread, while vegetables predominate the Turkish diet.

OCTOPUS, ANYONE? WINE PERHAPS?

Chios Town was a bustling port, the harbor ringed with outdoor coffee shops, bars, and restaurants. We wheeled our suitcases to a spot near our targeted hotel (no reservations) and ordered cold drinks. As usual, we were drenched in sweat, but smiling. I went around the corner to make reservations at the Hotel Filoxenia, which was another second-story hotel, up about 25 marble stairs. Oh, well. We managed. Our corner room had a well-lit make-up mirror, a tiny balcony, and huge windows. We were happy!

The next morning at breakfast we started chatting with a Greek man about our plans for the day, and he offered to show us the island. Takis lives in Athens but was born on Chios and loves it dearly. He drove us (in his father’s rickety old Volvo) over the mountains to a beautiful secluded beach near a lovely chapel dedicated to Saint Markella, who was killed as she tried to escape her father (who intended to rape her for becoming a Christian). We swam in the turquoise water, shared grilled fish at a small beachside restaurant, then swam and lazed in the shade while Takis visited his home village to finish plans for a home he was building there. That evening we treated him to dinner and dancing. It was quite a day, let me tell you!

TAKIS AND TWO HAPPY WOMEN

Our next stop was Mykonos, famous for its ancient windmills and pink pelicans. We took two ferries to get there, one to Samos, then another to Mykonos. They were both slow ferries, so we were able to wander the indoor decks as well as the top open deck. We enjoyed the ferries as much as the islands, which is good since we spent a good portion of our time on them. (Note to self: plan at least three days for each island, as it takes hours to travel from one to the next.)

A PINK PELICAN HITCH-HIKER ON MYKONOS

When we arrived at Mykonos, we were a bit slow getting off the ferry, so we missed the bus and the taxis. Oops! We decided to drag our suitcases down the road and see if we could flag down a taxi along the way. Two young men stopped to offer us a ride in their open Jeep. We were surprised at their offer, and I imagine they were even more surprised to see that we weren’t sweet young things. However, they never showed their disappointment; they were charming—two Turkish guys who worked on a cruise ship and had rented a jeep to go into town for the evening. They laughed their heads off at my Turkish, though they were tickled to chat with me. They dropped us off near our hotel, though we chose a long, convoluted route through the meandering crowded streets of Friday Night Mykonos.

MYKONOS CHAPEL

We finally found the Apollon Hotel, which was more than lovely. A sprightly old woman hopped off her antique daybed in the living room when we knocked on the door. She grinned as she embraced us, welcoming us warmly to her family home of hundreds of years. Although it was midnight, we went out to seek food and dancing. We ended up at a Greek taverna where we had saganaki (fried cheese) and moussaka (an eggplant hotdish). The people watching was incredible, with people dressed in every imaginable attire (including a man in a long-sleeved black T-shirt and grey briefs—my goodness!) By the time we were done eating, it was 1:30 and we were bushed. Oh, well.

After a good sleep, we packed up again (Maria needed to clean the room for her full house the next night) and headed out to explore our charming island. The streets in old Mykonos are all flat stones, and the buildings are all painted white with colored doors. It’s gorgeous. When we went back for our luggage, Maria charmed us yet again as we took her photos. Though her English is limited, she was an absolute delight, possibly my favorite thing in Mykonos.

SUSIE AND MARIA

Next stop: Santorini, our “grand destination”. The island of Santorini is actually the top of a submerged volcano that erupted thousands of years ago. The city sits atop a steep caldera like white icing, overlooking small islands in its center. The great draw of Santorini is its spectacular sunset over the caldera. The first night Susie and I found a front-row table at a city cafe, and the second night we took a taxi to the Santos Winery, where we enjoyed a flight of wines with cheese for the big event. The wine on Santorini was delicious—far better than the Turkish wines I’d grown accustomed to. Of course, my favorite drink in Greece was Mythos, their slightly-sweet beer. I’m sure I drank my share! Needless to say, we found great dancing both nights on Santorini; I dragged Susie home before sunrise each night.

SUNSET ON SANTORINI

A SANTORINI CHAPEL

We also spent a night on Naxos, where we mostly basked in the pool of our hotel to while away the heat of the day. We explored the old city in the evening, though. The streets were strewn with oleander blossoms along the route of a Catholic procession that would happen later that evening. After relaxing on a secluded beach, imbibing in a late afternoon beer, and much searching, we found a restaurant recommended in the Lonely Planet, where we had what was easily the finest meal of our trip. Such luck we have!

Actually, we had many fine meals, incredible views, and delightful experiences in both Turkey and Greece. What a month!

No one can convince me that life isn’t truly grand.

FAREWELL TO GREECE! (AT LEAST FOR NOW)

The second leg of my summer travels was a 9-day trek with four other women across the Mediterranean and Agean coasts of Turkey. My goodness—what an adventure!

After bidding farewell to many of our Blue Cruise mates, we took off. We five were dropped off at the foot of Mount Olympus at Bayram’s Treehouse Resort near the beach—my friend Sue from Grand Marais, Jana and her friend Beate from Berlin, and Shelly, a Minneapolitan teaching in the Czeck Republic.

MY BUDDIES AT BAYRAM’S

The first night we took a bus up to the top of Mount Olympus to see the Chimera, flames that come straight from the rocks, 24/7. The hike to the top was dicey in the moonless dark, much like a rock- strewn portage. Our friend Christy (traveling on her own) was the only one who thought to bring a flashlight, so the rest of us relied on the beams of our followers. The hike up was well worth the sweaty effort, though. We emerged on a rocky field dotted with campfire-sized flames emerging straight from the rocks. It was both eerie and fascinating, obviously the object of myths.

A SWEATY SUSIE AT THE CHIMERA

The next day we explored the ruins of Olympus near the beach and lazed away the heat of the day ina shady spot, reading and marveling at the pristine beachfront. That night after dinner we walked back to the beach in the dark, using my tiny penlight to guide us. Dumb. Beate twisted her ankle badly. After soaking her ankle in the frigid mountain stream, she hobbled back to Bayram’s, where we found a first-aid trailer. The doctor fixed her up with sauve, an ankle wrap, an ice pack, and ibuprofen. He offered us a drink, then walked across the stream to buy us beers. Go figure!

Next stop: Antalya. It was hot, over 100 degrees. We stayed at at the Dedekonak Pension, managed by a charismatic young surfer named Mike. He memorized our names immediately and made us feel very much at home. We followed his recommendation for a lunch spot, where we sat outdoors in the shade near an ancient castle enjoying Antalya’s incredible vista of mountains jutting from the Mediterranean.

SUSIE AND ME AT HADRIAN’S GATE, ANTALYA

Monday was my birthday, and Jana had champagne, mini-cakes, a candle, and gifts all set out for me in the pension courtyard. What a sweetheart!

BIRTHDAY BREAKFAST CHAMPAGNE

Afterwards we piled back into the car for the four hour drive to Kalkan. It’s a charming town, and it took us a while to locate the Balikci Han. Once we found it, we were PLEASED—too lovely for words! It was clearly the gem of our trip. When Jana went to park the car, she returned with five iced lattes for us, complete with a handsome waiter carrying them on a tray. My second birthday treat.

JANA’S COFFEE SURPRISE DELIVERY

The Balikci Han (fish peddler’s inn) has all of six rooms, and it sits at the edge of Kalkan’s old town, just a half block above the swimming beach. The rooms are charming, with hand-embroidered silk bed-coverings, antique furniture, and lovely beaded lamps and light fixtures. The breakfast tables were on a tree-shaded terrace.

As soon as we got settled, we hit their amazing beach. The water was both hot and cold, changing temperature every stroke we swam. We discovered that a frigid mountain stream empties into the bay at that beach.

We had a DELICIOUS dinner at the Kaptan’s Restaurant, just across the block from our hotel. Since the waiter had helped us carry our luggage to the hotel, this was a natural choice. We shared mezes and entrees, and everything was delicious, especially the cigara borek. It was the BEST!

A BIRTHDAY DINNER TOAST TO GREAT TIMES TOGETHER

The next morning we drove to Saklikent Gorge. Once we passed the tourist booths and paid our small entry fee, we followed a wooden walkway hanging along the cliff above the river. It was a bit odd to see a huge Turkish flag strung across the gorge far above us—but this is Turkey.The walkway ended at a maze of Turkish-pillowed “booths” perched over the water. There must have been 15 of them, as well as tables and chairs set along the rocks.

We forded the icy, rushing water beyond the restaurant area, and were amazed to continue along a mere trickle of warm water As we continued up the gorge, the formations became more and more amazing. It was spectacular. The entire mountain is marble, so it’s amazing to think of how many years it took the river to wear away this phenomenal gorge.

JANA AND SHELLY IN THE SAKLIKENT GORGE

On our way to Akyaka we stopped at Kayakoy, a city deserted after the 1923 population exchange. When the Turkish Republic was established, Greek Christians were deported to Greece, while Muslims were brought back. It was a painful time for many towns, where Christians and Muslims had lived in harmony for centuries. Kayakoy, frozen in time, is a testament to the lifestyle of many centuries.

Akyakya, our next stop, is an interesting little tourist town where all the buildings follow a similar design, mostly two stories with intricate woodwork ceilings and eves. Lovely! Once we settled in, we decided to scope out restaurants up the river behind our hotel. A man invited us in for tea or coffee, which Sue fanagled into a glass of wine for each of us. Go figure! After dinner we threw fish scraps into the river, which was soon writhing with eels under the restaurant’s floodlights. Unbelievable!

The next day we took a boat cruise to five beaches on the Gokova Bay, including the famed Cleopatra’s Island. Antony developed the island for Cleopatra with a small city (now ruins) and a beach with imported sand from Egypt. The beach sand, which supposedly has healing properties, is protected. The grains are rounded rather than granular, so it’s funny to walk on (underwater), sort of a combination of mud squishy and sand loose. You can’t sit on it, and there’s a huge fine for taking any away. There were probably 15 or 20 security guards. Many people sat in the water below the roped-off beach, smearing sand on their bodies, faces, etc. Amazing. Our next swim spot had a 100-foot cliff, which some men dove from. It was frightening, but they all survived.

CLEOPATRA BEACH

On Friday we headed for Selcuk, stopping on the way at the Dilek Peninsula, where we had another picnic, swam, and lay in the sun. Life is rough in the swamps!

Selcuk (on the Agean) felt like home to me, as this was my third visit. The Bella Hotel was charming as usual. The staff remembered me from last summer, but they particularly remembered my son Ross and my dog Libby. Hmmm…

JANA AND SHELLY AT THE LOVELY BELLA HOTEL IN SELÇUK

We relaxed on the terrace restaurant/bar and enjoyed a lovely dinner. Saturday we drove up to Şyrince (SHEER-en-jay), a quaint mountain village which charmed everyone. Our favorite spot, though, was the little man who sits in a tiny shelter carving wooden spoons from cedar branches. We chatted with him and took many photos, though I lost them with my camera the next day. Oh, well. Fortunately, I’d downloaded most of my photos earlier. I’ve gotten great mileage out of that camera, and it’s given me wonderful memories of my adventures in Turkey. I bid it a fond farewell along with Turkey.

Let me tell you, I highly recommend you consider adding a Blue Cruise to your List of Things to Do. We just finished a 5-day cruise along the Mediterranean coast of Turkey from Fetiye to Demre, and it was WONDERFUL!

On the last day of school, I met my son Dustin and his sweetheart Aly at the airport—hugs and tears abounded. We waited another hour for my friend Susie from Grand Marais, who was delayed in the lost luggage department (her suitcase hadn’t gotten beyond Paris). She managed without it for four days, poor thing. When it finally arrived in Fetiye on Monday, she paraded it around the hotel pool, and we celebrated with Appletinis. If you know Susie, you understand.

We spent one night in Istanbul, doing the Quick-Tour, which included dinner on a rooftop restaurant, the Basilica Cistern, the Blue Mosque, a ferryboat ride on the Bosporus, and a trip to the Grand Bazaar. Needless to say, we were ready for the peace and quiet of an airplane ride to Fetiye.
We stayed at the V-Go Hotel, which is a backpackers paradise. The terrace dining room had a beautiful view over the bay, the food was great, it had a pool, and the rooms were air-conditioned. What more could we ask? The weather was HOT! It rained one afternoon, which cooled things down a tad—but just a tad.

After two nights in Fetiye, all 16 travelers had arrived and we were transported to the Sevi 5 (Sevi=love). It was a well-loved boat with lots of beautifully kept wood, both inside and out. We were all relieved to see thick sleeping mats laid out on the deck for us, certain we would never be able to handle the heat in our rooms below. Some people slept down there, though, and said it was fine with the breeze blowing through all night.

I won’t bore you with all the details, but I’ll mention a few highlights from the trip. The food was incredible, though we had been concerned at first to learn that our chef, Soner, was only 19 and this was his first summer as a cook. Every meal rated a ten.
We mostly sat around and laid around and swam and slept and read. It was tough, let me tell you. The best days were the Five Swim Days. Even the Floridians found the Mediterranean waters more than comfortable, and we had some serious cannonball contests off the top deck. The company was delightful: 5 teachers from Koc, three young couples, and more young singles. We all got along and grew to know each other well through sharing meals, sleeping side-by-side, and playing together.

One day during lunch the captain called us to the bow, where three or four dolphins were cavorting with the ship. It was a delight to see them racing along, jumping, then falling back to repeat the performance. What a thrill to see them just feet away!

On July 4th Soner made us a watermelon man, complete with sparklers. The holiday had nearly gone unnoticed, so we appreciated the effort. It tasted great, too, replete with fresh fruits of all kinds. There was never a shortage of fruit (or beer) on board.

In addition to many stops at harbors for swims, we visited a few villages. One was Kas (Kosh), which had an ancient Roman theater and many tombs carved into the hillsides. Another small town’s picturesque hilltop castle overlooked the nearby islands of Kekova. Our captain told me the town was called Castle Town. Figures. When we got off the boat, village women with baskets of embroidered scarves guided us up the streets through a maze of small shops and up to the castle. A woman named Serefe guided me all the way, pointing out items of interest. Between her limited English and my limited Turkish, we learned we are the same age. Her life has been far harder than mine—I’m always aware of how fortunate I am. Of course, she lives in Paradise, and she knows it.

On our last night we all dressed up to go to the Smuggler’s Inn Pirate Bar. We were picked up by a barge-like motorboat, the local water-taxi, which held 30 people. It delivered us to the bar, which was a thatched-roof affair tucked away in a tiny cove across from a rocky crag. It was AWESOME! Totally different from anything we’d ever seen. It took a while for everyone to warm up, but eventually everyone was dancing and sweating up a storm. It never did cool off that night.
Well, all good things must come to an end, and we all waved Captain Atilla, First Mate Orhan, and Chef Soner goodbye and hopped onto a service bus to be delivered to our next destinations, which were many.

We all shared a magical, relaxing week that I’m sure none of us will forget. As I suggested, put this one on your list.

I can’t help but return to Istanbul with some observations about
similarities and differences between the Norway and Turkey. Bear with me.

First off, it was an absolute joy to fit in. Scandinavian by heritage, my
pale, pasty, long-limbed countenance didn’t attract undue attention (as it
always does in brown-eyed, dark-haired Turkey ). It was a joy to have people
address me in Norwegian–that is, when they did address me, which was seldom.

There’s another difference—demeanor. I continue to find the Turks a warm and
welcoming people. Whenever I ask for help, they more than comply, whereas
Norwegians are minimalists at best. Garrison Keillor depicts them correctly as
stoic, reserved, and understated. Just after I arrived in Trondheim, I asked a
woman for information about the exchange rate. Her answer was an abrupt “No.”
No apology, no explanation, just the clear message that she couldn’t or
wouldn’t help me. On the other hand, if a Turk didn’t know the answer to my
question, he or she would ask everyone at hand until they found someone who
could help. Different. As my friend Tony said, “Not weird or wrong, just
different.” It’s a good attitude to have about other cultures.

I’ll never forget the Norwegian man who stood silently at the top of a ski
hill as I scrambled and slid my way up it in some aberration of a herringbone.
I pulled over to let him by at one point, but he would have none of it. In
spite of my embarrassed smile and apologies when I finally reached the top of
the hill, he just gave me a withering look and skied off. At least I thought
it was withering–maybe it was just a nonintrusive stare.

I have to admit, the Norwegians I met in social settings were quite different.
We met a man outside the ski hut who waxed prophetic about his broken wrist,
the ski trails and his folk dancing group. At a subsequent evening potluck, a
few people even engaged me in conversation about my impressions of Trondheim.
My theory is that Norwegians are saving their energy for the outdoors; I’ve
never seen a people so enthused about nature. It’s exhilarating. I marveled at
how they lounged in the snow on the mountain, taking the elements as they
came. I loved seeing people ski along the snowy sidewalks during a snowstorm
and bike the city streets in snow, sun, or rain.

NORWEGIANS ENJOYING THE SNOW

My friend Anne told me that Norwegian preschools are of two types: one where children spend half the day outdoors, and the other where they spend the entire day outdoors. Can you imagine? Anne’s school (Trondheim International School) has a muddy hillside
playground (currently off limits until some grass grows) where there’s a huge
rope swing. Children clamber to the top of the hill and sail out on the swing.
As you can well expect, they come back into school muddy. They’re hosed off,
change into their indoor shoes and clothes, and head to class. It’s amazing.
(They have double sets of both indoor and outdoor clothes, a total of four
outfits.)There’s no overprotectiveness when it comes to their natural world, either.
Tree climbing and fast sledding are an accepted part of playground activity. I
guess they don’t have a lot of law suits.

ANNE ANDERSEN AND ME IN HER SCHOOL’S LIBRARY

At our elementary in Turkey, the children are kept in whenever there’s a sign
of inclement weather. The elementary has a commons hallway where children
play if there’s a drop of rain, cold air, or–heaven forbid–MUD! I think it
may relate to their intrinsic fear of drafts and cold air. In their defense,
though, on any beautiful evening or weekend the Turks take to the fields.
Every tree, no matter how skimpy, harbors a family picnic, complete with
blanket, picnic basket, and mangal (Bar-B-Q ). The Turks love the outdoors
when it’s at its best. The Norwegians love it no matter what it brings.

TURKS COME OUT TO PLAY WHEN THE SUN SHINES

The last thing I want to mention is clutter. I was truly impressed at the
cleanliness of Trondheim. Most buildings are two stories high with slatted siding
and paned windows. Stores are only different in that they post a small sign
indicating the business inside. There are some stores (though few) that have
display windows and neon signs, but the general rule is order. In Trondheim,
at least, buildings are painted in muted shades of red, blue, green, and
yellow. It’s lovely.

A SHOPPING STREET IN ROROS, NORWAY

THIS IS AS COMMERCIAL AS TRONDHEIM GETS

Turkey is quite different. If there’s an overriding architecture, it’s
concrete (perhaps because of earthquakes). I’ve been told that Turks have a
love affair with concrete. Storefronts compete for space along every sidewalk,
often with ten or more in a block. Outdoor displays spill merchandise onto the
sidewalk.

AN ISTANBUL SHOPPING STREET

Of course, that’s also the charm of Istanbul. Constant chatter and
banter is also part of the Turkish shopping experience, as well as a proffered
cup of tea. You wouldn’t find THAT in Norway.

So is Norway prettier? Nope. Friendlier? Not a chance. Cleaner? Obviously.
Richer? Absolutely.

Norway and Turkey are both wonderful countries—considerably dIfferent but each
stunning in its own way.

Spring break finally arrived, and I couldn’t wait to get to Trondheim to see my friends (Anne, Tony, and Nona) and to SKI! I’ve really missed skiing these past two years, so imagine my delight when I arrived in a snowstorm. Hooray! (Cross country skiing just isn’t big in Istanbul, even when there’s snow.)

Saturday afternoon we wandered the city in the snow, then opted for a movie. The city was deserted, as Norway closes down for Easter week, including Easter Monday. No buses run, no shops are open—Norwegian businesses are clearly less mercenary than American stores.

SNOWFALL ON THE RIVER NID

Easter Sunday we headed eagerly to nearby Bymarka Mountain Park to ski. Bymarka is a huge park that covers an entire mountain, and it has hundreds of kilometers of ski trails, as well as a ski jump. We stopped midway for a lunch of waffles with jetost (sweet goat cheese), lefse, and cocoa. I was amazed that rather than sitting inside, people settled happily into spots in the snow while they ate. Norwegians are DEFINITELY outdoor folks. All along our tour, we saw groups nestled into snowy settings everywhere, picnicking, sledding, and just enjoying the day.

RELAXING FOR A PICNIC IN THE SNOW

We skied 15K, then returned Monday for yet another 5K. ARAUGHHH!!!Muscles screamed from every part of my weary body. Of course, I was smiling anyway; it was welcome pain.

I’ve always considered myself a competent cross country skier. Not great, mind you, but good enough to take on nearly anything. Well, these mountain tracks are challenging, and the experience was humbling. Mere three-year-olds raced by me, as well as skiers nearly twice my age. Children too small to ski are pulled behind mom or dad in a Pulke, a cozy ski sled with a windshield. Tony skis with his dog Major attached to retractible lead, as do many skiers. Skiing is definitely a family affair. In fact, Anne and Tony had to borrow equipment for me, as there is no such thing as ski rental here. Everyone has their own gear.

SO I’VE LOST MY SKI-LEGS–BIG DEAL! ANNE AND ME AND NONA:

Trondheim is gorgeous—mountains, lovely multicolored buildings, a river (Nid) through the city, ancient cathedrals, and the fjord–ah, yes, the fjord. After our Easter ski, we took a drive along the fjord to revel in the picturesque shoreline punctuated by fishing huts and lovely farms. Norway is obviously a prosperous country. In fact, it is one of the wealthiest countries in the world. And it shows. People aren’t ostentatious, but I saw nothing that even approaches poverty. And NOTHING here is cheap.

Monday night we ate at a little restaurant called Tavern Vertshus Siden 1739. That would make it nearly 300 years old, wouldn’t it? My goodness! It was a charming place, with a maze of tiny rooms leading off the main bar room. The tavern must have been an inn at one time, still decorated with rugged antiques. We stepped back into another century. We chose the buffet menu of salad, boiled potatoes, and spare ribs with BBQ sauce to die for. YUM!

DINING AT THE TAVERN VERTSHUS SIDEN 1793

I’ve also done other tourist things. We toured the gothic Nidaros Cathedral (circa 1000-1100), which houses the tomb of St. Olaf. Dark.

PEERING UP THE SPIRES OF THE NIDAROS CATHEDRAL

Then Tony guided Nona and me to a number of secondhand stores, where beautiful Norwegian sweaters can be purchased for five to thirty dollars. Not bad, compared to the $300 retail prices. Then yesterday we visited the National Museum of Decorative Arts, an eclectic collection of items from the 1700’s on. We’ve also meandered much of the city in pursuit of its many statues.

THE WELCOME WOMEN AT THE INFORMATION BOOTH

Our last stop yesterday was the public library, one of the nicest I’ve ever seen. We had a mid-afternoon latte in the library coffee shop, then headed home to make a delectable creamy fish soup. YUM! Today I helped out with a Macbeth project at Anne’s school, and tomorrow–who knows?

The snow has melted, and the sun is shining. As I often say, life is good!

It wasn’t easy getting to Jordan; the winds were high, and the ferry delayed. In fact, our ferry from Nuweiba, Egypt, to Aqaba, Jordan, sat out on the Red sea overnight. The only thing worse than waiting, waiting, waiting must have been sitting out on that ship—seasick, seasick, seasick.

We got to the ferry landing about ten o’clock Monday morning and waited all day. The back window of our van exploded (high winds?), and Mollie, Allana, and Leslie treated us to a hilarious sock-puppet show in the empty back window. “Put a sock in it!” “Do they let Red Sox into Jordan?”, “Once again, you’ve put your food in your mouth!” What joy to travel with young people.

We finally gave up waiting for the ferry at 6 PM and found ourselves rooms at a quaint beachside hotel where they treated us like royalty. After a delicious Egyptian dinner, our host encouraged us to check out the beach (VERY windy), where we discovered a thatched-roof, adobe-walled disco that became our home for the night.

Our waiter spun the tunes and played the lights, while the owner pulled out water pipes. The chef grilled corn and sweet potatoes and brought out spiced nut and bean snacks. We danced off our huge dinner, then laughed ourselves silly at the cross-dresser-belly-dancer. Leslie raved, “I had a crush on him before his act, but now I’m CRAZY about him!” Too funny!

We finally boarded the ferry the next day after waiting in the station for three hours. We waited two more on board as they loaded, took three hours crossing, waited another hour to disembark, and stood yet another at customs—10 hours! Passport distribution in Aqaba was a joke. A guard read off passport names one-by-one as he held them aloft for anyone to grab. ARAUGHHH!!!! One of our travel companions quipped, “They couldn’t make this system less efficient if they tried!” Too true.

On Wednesday morning we finally made our way to Wadi Rum, a desert preserve in southern Jordan. It was BEAUTIFUL! We rode on benches in the bed of a 4-wheel-drive Toyota pickup, soaking in the moonscape terrain. We’d been outfitted in Arab red-and-white scarves, protection from sun, wind, sand, and cold as we raced across the sands.

A Bedouin rode up and offered us rides on his camel. (Mere coincidence?) We took a break to indulge. That was when I learned that our driver, Abu Kamel, had two wives. According to our guide, “He drinks camel milk, which gives him too much ‘energy’ for one wife.” Hmmm…

We explored the steep dunes barefoot, racing down and trudging back up. We drank Bedouin tea and relaxed with a HUGE outdoor lunch of countless dishes, my favorite a grilled eggplant salad. My goodness, it was GOOD! For about ten dollars we ate like kings.

There were two other things I loved in Jordan. The first was Petra, which must be seen to be believed. The most impressive scenes of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade were filmed there, and I felt like an ancient explorer stepping into a secret world. Petra is a hidden valley in southwestern Jordan with spectacular classical facades carved right into the valley’s sandstone cliffs (by the Nabateans and the Greeks, for the most part). It’s spectacular, especially after hiking through the Siq, a narrow rock gorge (1.2 K long and 3 to 12 meters wide) that serves as the main entrance to the ancient city. Our guide, Mahmud, pointed out niches and carvings as we strolled down the Siq, but I’ll never forget my amazement as we viewed the impressive 3-story treasury building through the slit of rock ahead. Amazing!

We were awed at the many structures carved from the rock walls of Petra, but the most fascinating part of the day was our guide. Mahmud had grown up a Bedouin shepherd, shoeless and with one set of clothes. He shared many stories of growing up in a Petra cave, moving to the desert for the summer. His father had chosen him, the middle of nine children, to attend school in the winter. Mahmud hadn’t wanted to leave his world of goats and camels, but his father urged him to travel the 15 K to school, each morning saying, “just one more day.” Day after day, Mahmud hiked up the Siq and found a ride to school. Obviously a very bright man, he had been singled out by King Hussein as one of the top students in Jordan. He told of his anxious trip to Amman to meet the king, who paid for his high school education in England and university in Amman. “I was the only one of my siblings able to get an education,” he told us apologetically. “We all still struggle with the cultural shifts. My mother still lives in a tent, though the government has built her a house. When I’m feeling stressed, I visit her and find great peace in the smells of my childhood,” he said. Mahmud now has a wife and three children, and he feels stress about providing for them, just as his parents did.

So many stories, and so little space to share them.

Our last adventure was an afternoon at the Dead Sea. My goodness, if you ever wondered what it’s like to be a cork, go to the Dead Sea. It’s the most dense, most saline water in the world. While most oceans have 3.5% salinity, the Dead Sea has 30%. A jump into the Dead Sea evokes immediate hysterics, let me tell you. I never imagined it could be such a hoot to lie on TOP of the water, rolling like a bobble toy. You can lie in the water with arms and legs up in the air and STILL float! We met a film crew slathering themselves with Dead Sea mud along the shore, so of course we joined them. It was a blast, and Allana agreed to being buried in the heavy black stuff. (Of course, our skin is now beautiful.) People pay thousands of dollars for the same treatment, and we got it for free, including laughter therapy.

Well, all good things must come to and end, and we eventually left the water (and mud), said goodbye to Jordan, and flew back home to Istanbul.

I do love this life!