amershon – Page 13 – Ann Marie’s Istanbul

The Scarf: Oppression or Freedom?

February 25, 2008March 2, 2008 amershon3 Comments

THE SCARF: FREEDOM OR OPPRESSION?

When I walk the streets of Istanbul, there are always women in scarves. In more traditional communities it’s a majority, while in more modern, upscale communities, it’s less common. Older women are generally scarved, and younger women less often.

A lovely Muslim “Princess”

On rare occasions I’ll see two women, arm in arm, one scarved and one with tresses flowing free. It makes no difference to their friendship, though I find it a startling contrast.

Ceramic artists in Iznik, Turkey

I’ve tried to accept this part of Islamic culture, and I’ve come close, though I still struggle with the unfairness of women being covered when men aren’t.

A book entitled Nine Parts of Desire: The Hidden World of Islamic Women, by Geraldine Brooks, enlightened me somewhat on the topic. Apparently the theory (Islamic) is that women are incredibly sensuous beings; Allah granted them 9 parts of desire, giving men only one. Therefore, women have to cover themselves in order to keep the world from descending into chaos (of a sensual nature).

Since the establishment of the Turkish Republic in 1923, it has been unlawful for women to wear scarves in public buildings, including schools. Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, Turkey’s revered founder, was adamant that Turkey be a secular state even though its predominant religion was Islam. That is still true in this country, which is 99% Muslim. Turks take great pride in their secular government, a model of democracy in an Islamic world.

Sweethearts in Antalya, Turkey

Before I moved to Turkey I read Orhan Pamuk’s book, Snow, a fictional response to the issue of scarves and education. In this novel, a journalist travels to Kars (“snow” in Turkish), a city in Eastern Turkey, to investigate the story of girls whose religious convictions to wear scarves has driven them to suicide because of being denied access to education. Pamuk’s approach is a critical one, though illuminating in its understanding of the issues faced by these young women. It opened my eyes to the passion many of these girls feel about covering their heads.

Scarved women of all ages in Göreme, Cappadocia, Turkey

Well, the deed is done, as you probably know. Amid great turmoil, Turkey has passed legislation allowing women to wear scarves in universities, as long as their faces aren’t covered. There are two sides to this issue, and both make sense.

Proponents of the ruling insist that it’s a move toward freedom for all and access to education for women, not a step towards an Islamic state. That works for me. In America many girls attend school scarved. (Of course, America isn’t a neighbor to a country that requires head-covering.)

Opponents feel that this is just one of many moves toward breaking down Turkey’s secular government, that it’s like a “test case” to amending the constitution away from secularism. They also view the headscarf as a symbol of political Islam. So who’s right?

A young kilim-weaver in Cappadocia

I discussed this issue with a few university women, and they find it upsetting. They see both sides, yet feel threatened by the acceptance of scarves in their educational environment. “I worry that the pressure will be on me to take the scarf, or maybe on my daughter. We have a name for that social pressure in Turkey; it’s a lot like peer pressure, and it’s strong in our culture. I don’t want my country to go that way, but what can I do to prevent it?” one of them said.

A teacher friend shared that she’s unhappy with the ruling as well, although only a few of her university students appeared in scarves this week. She’s a liberal-minded woman, like many educators, and she feels the classroom isn’t the place for religious posturing. She commented, “This issue takes attention away from our country’s real problems: a shaky economy, lack of education, and ‘ugly’ world policies.” She’s not alone in this view. Many people have expressed a concern that much broader issues plague Turkey, and this issue has just been a governmental smokescreen to avoid tackling them.

Worshippers in the traditional community of Eyüp

Though many people feel that the wearing of scarves is on the rise, a survey of women across Turkey in 2006 showed a decline in scarf wearing. In 1999, 73% of Turkish women wore a headscarf, while in 2006 the percentage had declined to 63%.* It is true, though, that many families choose to keep their daughters out of school once they reach puberty. Turkey has sponsored many programs to promote the continued education of girls, with limited success.

I’m sure the CHP (secularist party) will bring this decision to an appeals court on the grounds that it’s unconstitutional, and no one knows where that will go. The Turkish military, which is charged with the responsibility of upholding the constitution and the secular state, doesn’t look kindly on this action either. It remains to be seen, though, whether they will intervene. It looks for now like things are settling.

Two generations of scarf fashion in Cappadocia

In the Best of All Possible Worlds, this would be a positive step. The problem, though, is mistrust and unspoken agendas. Time will tell, I guess. Until then, women will be free to wear scarves in Turkey’s universities.

*The survey was conducted by the Turkish Economic and Social Studies Foundation (TESEV)

Snow-blown Istanbul

February 17, 2008February 17, 2008 amershon3 Comments

After a 24-month hiatus, Winter has rediscovered Istanbul—and it’s great fun! We’ve been teased with snow flurries all week, whetting everyone’s appetites for the inevitable cancellation of classes. In recent years school has been called off at any hint of snow (due, I am told, to a child’s death on his way home from school during a snowstorm).

The first year I was in Istanbul, we had a snow day for mere flurries (by Minnesota standards). Then when we had an actual blizzard in January, we got a full week off. Of course, you must remember that this is a city without snowplows—and with precious few snowshovels. People use spades, brooms, squeegies, and dustpans to remove the snow. Believe me, it’s a backbreaker to clear your driveway with a dustpan! I think we had eight snow days that year, then last winter we hardly saw a snowflake. But Winter has returned.

City snow removal, winter 2006

Yesterday (Saturday) it snowed off and on all day, but since it warmed up mid-day, much of the snow melted away. I went into the city to meet a few former Koç students for a late lunch (such a joy!), then hooked up with friends for dinner. Amazingly, in spite of the storm, I got back to campus in just over an hour, climbing the hill through a mere inch of snow.

Saturday hiking down to Arnavutköy from Robert College

This morning, however, I woke to an amazing winter wonderland: three to four inches of heavy snow, blown by blasts of wind from the Bosphorus. There’s always wind in Istanbul, but particularly after a snowstorm, I guess. As a Northern Minnesotan I’m more than accustomed to snow (we have it five months each year), but here it’s a real novelty, even to me! Robert College has a snowplow (after all, it IS an American school), and the maintenance crew ran it up and down the winding, cobbled roadways all morning long, trying to keep pace with the snowfall.

Libby waiting patiently for our morning walk

As my dog Libby and I trekked through the storm this morning, she was thrilled with the return to “normalcy” in her life, cavorting with the snow like a long-lost friend. We checked out new routes around campus, and I realized how incredibly steep some of the campus roads are. There’s one section that’s so steep the guards set up barriers and plowed around it, across drives behind the buildings. I picked my way down that steep section, which was a little like descending a snow-covered mountain peak. I’ll be amazed if we have school tomorrow.

Deciduous shrubs and trees struggle with the heavy snow.

The guards were jerryrigging chains to their “guardmobile” tires as we walked by the main guard station, and NO one was driving the school roads—except for the taxi we called to bring us to a grocery store. Our service bus to IKEA and REAL was cancelled this morning (weather, of course), so one of the bilingual teachers called for a taxi—WITH snow tires. No thwarting a Robert teacher’s plans!

—a splash of color in a white world

Well, my first week at Robert College is behind me, and my groceries are all put away. Though I’m not sure I need a day off quite so soon, I’m open to the idea, as any self-respecting teacher or student would be. I have papers to correct, planning to do, and maps to finish for my latest book project. I guess I could use the extra time. Who couldn’t?

Welcome back to Istanbul, Winter.

A snow-swept patio overlooking the frigid Bosphorus

F.Y.I.—School was cancelled. HOORAY!!!!

Back for another teaching stint

February 10, 2008February 10, 2008 amershon3 Comments

Well, we’re back in Istanbul! Though I was a nervous wreck about sentencing Libby to 16 hours in cargo (KLM said she was too big for the cabin—what????), we both managed, arriving mid-day Thursday after a 24-hour trek from Grand Marais. We’re settled into our little apartment-with-a-view at Robert College, a highly prestigious and incredibly picturesqe preparatory high school located high above the Bosphorus.

I was warmly greeted by Maria Orhon, Robert College English teacher and Academic Director. Imagine my dismay when I realized that she had a small Toyota (with a driver) to transport the two of us (three with the driver), Libby and her kennel, and five suitcases and crates. Oops! We had to hire a taxi to get everything to the school, though Maria was more than gracious about it. After giving me some time to squeeze everything into my apartment, she chauffered me to a nearby Migros grocery store, then later treated me to a meal of mouth-watering fish cakes and grilled turbot steaks. YUM! And— Eftalia, the lovely Bosphorus fish restaurant, is within walking distance of school! Since I hadn’t had any exercise for two days, I bid Maria farewell at the school gate and hiked back up the hill to my lojman (apartment). I slept like a log, 11 hours straight.

Libby checking out our new digs
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The word for the day at Robert College is STEPS! Yesterday I walked back down to the Bosphorus, which is 10 minutes (and 167 steps) down the hill. The walk is lovely, with winding sidewalks and stairways lined in lush greenery: lawns, trees, and shrubs, punctuated by the occasional spray of spring blossoms. (Yes, it’s nearly spring here.)

A bit of the 167-step trek up the hill to Robert College

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The Bosphorus is amazing, too. The waterway that divides Europe from Asia (I’m on the European side), it has been the source of many a war because it connects the Agean Sea (to the west of Turkey) and the Mediterranean (South) to the Black Sea, providing access to Georgia, Russia, and many of the Baltic states. It’s also beautiful.

A view of Asia across the Bosphorus from our European campus

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Libby and I strolled the waterfront for an hour, watching fishermen catch hamsi (anchovies), meeting stray dogs (all friendly), and just generally scoping out the scene. Private boats of all shapes and sizes line the quay, and I noticed that many are floating restaurants. Have to check those out later.

Boats lining the Bosphorus quay

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I spent the afternoon working in the English office, preparing for my first week: poetry for the non-fiction classes and Bless Me, Ultima for the fiction class. I’m eager to get back into the classroom, and this new semester offers a new beginning to all of us. I’m replacing a teacher who left (reluctantly) because Turkish law forces teachers to retire when they turn 65. She left things totally organized for me, with little notes everywhere. What a welcome! I feel truly embraced by the people here already. Of course, this is Turkey. They’re like that here.

My five-month office corner

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After a dicey sleep the second night, I putzed around my apartment, filling the walls with calendar photos (thanks to Aly) and reorganizing the furniture. Then Libby and I trekked up to the upper campus entrance—another 322 steps. Oh, my goodness! I’m going to get my exercise here, believe me. I was of the mistaken impression that the college was perched on top of the hill above the Bosphorus, but I guess it’s less than halfway up. A few very cranky dogs met us just outside the upper gate, but I picked Libby up and we ignored their snarls—well, sort of.

We explored the streets above the school, and I found another little grocery store. I picked up garlic, crackers, and pepper, carrying Libby through the store. I’m hesitant to tie her outside, as one nasty dog could do her in. I don’t think I’ll take her beyond the upper gates anymore. Not a great place for a little dog. (Though apparently it’s still a good place for horses!)

A rare, yet intriguing sight in Istanbul—Speedy Delivery?

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So here I am, champing at the bit to teach my four sections of 9th graders at Robert College. It feels good to be back in Istanbul, though issues abound here. (The latest is the parliament’s decision to allow women to wear scarves in the universities, which is upsetting to secularists, who see it as a step toward an Islamic state. More about that later.)

The call to prayer warms my heart, and Libby is now sitting at the window watching for Campus Cats, of which there are many. Each new citing intoxicates her; she’ll be happy here. Not many cats around the woods in Grand Marais. Just boring old deer.

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Boreal Access Web Mailer

Finishing the book—all over Istanbul

November 29, 2007 amershon1 Comment

I’m sitting at Istanbul’s Atatürk airport, waiting for Lufthansa flight 3341. The good news is that there’s an exit row seat for the overseas leg—ah, comfort! (Well, relative comfort anyway.)

I’ve spent a busy few weeks here—four days on the Koç campus with my friend Marnie, then ten in Kadiköy in my friend Leah’s apartment. Most of the time I’ve worked on our book of walking tours around the Grand Bazaar. It’s been grueling, fascinating, and fun. What adventures I’ve had!

On my second day here, Edda and I did the first walk with Marnie serving as our tour guide (to test our directions). I learned quickly that the directions needed to be FAR clearer. First test: C+. (We didn’t let her use the maps, which I’m confident will help.)

Edda over Istanbul

The next test was walk two, which Edda and I did by ourselves a few days later. We added meticulous details to our directions, carefully checking street names and building locations. We also did some interviews for feature articles. Edda helped me shop in the Cebeci Han for a belly-dancing costume for my sister-in-law, too. WOW—the shopowner kept pulling outfit after outfit from some mysterious source; the selections were incredible. Women shopowners are extremely rare in Turkey, so I was pleased to buy from a woman. That was a successful day for us—second test: B+ (a few wrinkles in building locations).

One of many belly-dancing selections

We spent the next day working in Edda’s charming (albeit treasure-cluttered) penthouse apartment overlooking the Golden Horn and Sultanahmet. It was supposed to rain that day, hence the choice to review photos and clarify details together, our laptops side by side on her kitchen table. I had no idea that she’d lay out a lavish lunch for me: mushroom soup (tantalizing), shredded vegetable salad (scrumptious), olives, pickled beets, and fresh bread. YUM! Once I was completely full, she pulled out the main dish: a big bowl of rice topped with a delicious vegetable and sausage goulash (from her Austrian roots). Full as I was, I managed to devour every bite. When she pushed me to seconds, though, there was no hope. I was STUFFED! That was my Thanksgiving dinner. And I am truly thankful for all that I have.

The next day (forecast cloudy with little chance of rain) we met at the Çemberitaş monument near the Grand Bazaar, umbrellas in hand. I’d forgotten my camera, but it was no great loss, as it rained all day. At one point we were climbing a steep cobblestone street in a downpour. The tile gutter running down the center was a torrent, and water poured over our feet. Nothing to do but continue, which we did. Yet another Istanbul adventure.

Our last day of trekking together was a long one, and the highlight was a rooftop that I had discovered on my own. The Sair Han (the Büyük Valide Han’s third courtyard) has an outdoor stone stairway leading up to a rooftop with an amazing view overlooking the Golden Horn and the Marmara (and lots of stray dogs). We were snapping pictures when a friendly young man carrying a white chicken appeared and began chatting with us. He offered to show us the view from the highest point, and of course we accepted. He led us around the corner of the Tower of Eirene, a crumbling edifice on the corner of the rooftop, and we clambered up two more rooftop levels to the pinnacle—what fun! (Let me remind you that my friend Edda is 70 years old—a youthful and sprightly woman always game for adventure.) At the top we discovered two tiny workshops, one for dying lace, and the other for making tea. Unbelievable. Luckily, our young guide (a tea shop owner from the main floor of the han) led us down through a maze of crumbling stairways to his shop, where he invited us to return later. Unfortunately, we didn’t. Too busy!

Edda scrambling up the Tower of Eirene

Another highlight that day was an interview with a street cobbler, a man who sets up shop every day on a corner beneath a tree. Year round, he brings his table, an old sewing machine, and his last (a cobbler’s tool). When it rains, he adds an umbrella, and when its cold, a small grill. What a guy!

Tarkan the street cobbler

It’s been a fun, rewarding, and exhausting week. 2000 photos and 40,000 words behind me, I’m hankering for a LONG nap on the plane. By the way, yesterday we delivered our book to Çitlembik Publishers—all except the maps. I have to make some corrections on those. It’s been an exciting project, and I know the work is far from over, but we’re on schedule. HOORAY!!!!!

Edda and I celebrating our completed project

So what’s a han?

November 14, 2007February 18, 2008 amershon3 Comments

When I was first invited to join one of Edda’s hans walking tours, I had no clue what a han was. Did I care? A walking tour in Sultahahmet was temptation enough. Little did I know on that first fascinating walk that I would soon be collaborating with Edda Weissenbacher on a book of her walking tours. But I digress.

Kalcılar Han, upper story
A han, in case you are as uninformed as I was, is an ancient inn, a stop along the camel trading routes. Caravans of merchants stayed there for a few nights, weeks, or even longer to trade their wares in the city. It usually had two levels of rooms around a porticoed courtyard. The upper level rooms were reserved for sleeping and living, while the lower level offered storage rooms for merchandise, usually a kitchen, and sometimes stables for the caravans’ camels and horses. The courtyard’s fountain and perhaps a small mosque served the residents of the han. Hans were like small, bustling castle keeps, their massive gates locked securely at night against burglars.

Cuhacı Han with Nur-u Osmaniye Mosque behind it.
Not surprisingly, many hans were located near the Grand Bazaar (Covered Market) area where merchants traded their wares. Built between the years 500 and 1900, scores of ancient hans still stand, though most have been remodeled and many are unfortunately dilapidated. A few of the more notable ones are the Vezir Han (next to the Çemberlitaş Hamam), the Büyük Valide Han (on Mercan Caddesi behind the Grand Bazaar), and the Taş Han, west of the bazaar near the Laleli Mosque. There are also a number of very charming hans located within the bazaar, offering an oasis of peace and sunshine—a welcome break from the hectic bustle of the Grand Bazaar.

Büyük Yeni Han–ancient walls

The Taş Han, one of my favorite hans, was recently refurbished with close attention to historical accuracy. Sultan Mustafa III had it built in 1763 as a part of the Laleli Mosque complex, originally intending it as an inn for his guests. According to tradition, visitors to the hans were accorded free meals and lodging for three days, then they were expected to move on (sort of like the guests and the “old fish” proverb). The han was then known as the Sipahi Han, since “spahee” means a place for donkeys; the han’s underground cistern was converted to a stable. Later the han was used as a Janissary station (for the sultan’s soldiers), an inn, and eventually a bazaar. It went through a number of name changes, finally ending up with the very unassuming name Taş Han (stone building).

Taş Han entryway

Over the years the han fell into disrepair, but it was purchased in 1987 by Kemal Ocak, a Turkish leather merchant with a vision for the han’s future. It took years to secure permission to restore the han, and Ocak was eager to set things in motion. The restoration was grueling, completed by a team of 30-40 experienced restoration specialists working day and night. Ocak paid close attention to detail, and his project was endorsed (though not funded) by the Ministry of Antiquities, which required mountains of paperwork as well as careful attention to historical restoration. Completed in 1993, the results of Ocak’s efforts are impressive.

Kemal Ocak, Taş Han renovator
A visit to the charming Taş Han transports us back hundreds of years. Its modest arched entrance and stone corridors lead to an open courtyard topped with as many chimneys as the original structure would have had—one for each upstairs sleeping cell. The former storerooms that ring the courtyard are now shops offering clothing, leather, and fur. The courtyard is graced by a fountain, near which groups of men sit around tables shaking backgammon dice, sipping tea, and smoking water pipes (nargile). A stairway at the far end leads down to what was once a Byzantine cistern. It is now the Arkat, a night club restaurant that features nightly floor shows of Turkish music, magic, and of course, bellydancing. After the show diners dance into the wee hours. That probably didn’t happen in the early days of the han, but who knows?

Belly dancer in the Arkat Restaurant
Across the courtyard is a passage to a second courtyard with another fountain in the charming Tas Han Restaurant as wel as another entrance to the han.For more information, watch for our new book, Edda’s Istanbul—Back-street walking tours around the Grand Bazaar by Edda Renker Weissenbacher and Ann Marie Mershon. It should be out next summer.

Two women’s Greek island adventure

July 25, 2007September 14, 2007 amershon1 Comment

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 Mediterranean and Agean Coasts

July 15, 2007September 13, 2007 amershonLeave a comment

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.

SAILING AWAY

July 7, 2007July 7, 2007 amershon6 Comments

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.

The Social Center—and Şakır Bey

June 14, 2007June 15, 2007 amershon1 Comment

Never heard of a campus bar before (except at universities), but who’s complaining? Actually, our social center on the Koc campus has been an important part of my life in Turkey. One of the highlights has been our distinguished bartender, Şakır Bey, as well as social events ranging from our weekly potato night to a variety of special events. So lucky we are!

Şakır Bey serves as a host for many of us on campus. (SHAH-kur Bey, which is like Mr. Şakır, only Şakır is his first name—that’s how you address men in Turkey.) A retired naval officer, he has been the social center bartender for the past 11 years (after 25 years in the military). When I first arrived two years ago, I couldn’t understand why everyone was up in arms about the possible termination of their bartender. I mean, really! How much difference can a bartender make?

Well, I didn’t know Şakır Güner. He’s one in a million, and he’s made every single person on campus feel appreciated and important. “Benim genc arkadasim” he calls me, and I call him the same (gench arkadashEEM= my young friend). We’re both retiring this year. Need I say more? Şakır Bey is friendly, professional, and efficient. He takes care of everyone without imposing himself, and he’s always ready for a game of backgammon (tavla) with anyone who has time to spare. My friend Sue is coming for her second visit, and her first question was whether she’d get to see Şakır Bey again. That’s how wonderful he is. Unfortunately, he’ll be retired when she arrives.

I regret to admit that we leave Şakır Bey sitting alone in the social center too many nights. He’s there five nights a week from 5:00 to 10:00, and we just can’t get down there every night. When I do go down for a beer, we chat in my limited Turkish and his limited English, teaching each other as our conversation progresses. It’s a real treat for both of us. Our favorite topic of conversation is retirement. I’m going back to my wilderness home in Grand Marais, and he plans to travel with his lovely wife, Meliha. They’ve purchased a summer home on the Black Sea, but their first travel excursion will be to the beautiful city of Antalya on the Mediterranean coast in July. His eyes glow as he speaks of it.

Back to the social center We just had what might have been the best event yet: last Sunday three very talented actors presented a production of The Love List, a hilarious Neil-Simon-like play by Canadian playwright Norm Foster. Take three gifted actors —Larry Bent, Dan Kapp, and Lisa Kapp—a snappy, intelligent script and mix them with an appreciative well-fed audience, and you’ve got a hit! The play is about a 50-year-old man who puts together a 10-point list for a dating service, then faces the reality of his choices. It’s great!

(Especially in this era of computer dating, it’s pretty on target). You have to see it to find out about item number four (which I’ll leave to your imagination). I recommend it highly to our community theater for future production. At any rate, we thoroughly enjoyed our evening, many of us laughing until tears streamed from our eyes. I call that a successful event.

We’ve had other enjoyable events at the social center: a wine-tasting party (also organized by the Kapps), a Halloween party, numerous game nights, a Thanksgiving Dinner, a Christmas dinner, and a weekly gathering for baked potatoes and fixings—the famed Potato Night. It’s been a great way to get an easy meal, to connect with friends, and to just get out of the lojman for a while.

Gotta love that social center—and especially Şakır Bey!

(play photos by Tony Paulus)

Death to America? WHAT???????

June 11, 2007June 11, 2007 amershon5 Comments

I’ve lived in Turkey nearly two years now, and I wonder if my view of the world has changed. I wonder, too, if I’ve changed. Scary!

I’ve had a great time here, filled with incredible experiences. I’ve toured countless mosques, learned to speak some Turkish, met some fascinating people, visited places along the three seas surrounding Turkey (and beyond), as well as having opened my eyes and heart to this culture. Lucky me.

Many of my Turkish friends have commented that these weekly missives have opened their eyes as well. They’ve revisited Turkey through the eyes of a yabanci (foreigner). They’ve been forced to scrutinize their world a bit more carefully, and also to notice the precious details they take for granted: the call to prayer, the sparkling Bosporus, the sun setting over distant hills, the occasional Christian church, the bustle of a street market, even a beggar along Istaklal.

I’ve had an opportunity to view America through different eyes as well. I’ve listened to student presentations about media’s negative influence in their lives and others about the exploitation of third world workers by U.S. corporations. I’ve heard countless diatribes (from both students and adults) against the War in Iraq. I visited an antiwar rally/tent in Kadikoy. I’ve been asked repeatedly, “What do you think of Bush?” and been treated warmly when I responded “Not much.” I’ve worried about the impression America has made on the rest of the world, and it isn’t pretty. I’m afraid the days of Americans basking in admiration may be behind us.

Just this week I listened to a public radio podcast, “Death to America.” It’s part of a program called The Changing World, and in the May 30th program (available online at pri.org), host Michael Goldfarb deals specifically with Turkey. His presentation is a bit unsettling, albeit true. America is not greatly loved on this side of the Atlantic (an understatement).

According to a survey by the Pew Memorial Trust, in 2000 over half of the people in Turkey reported a favorable view of America. A recent poll shows that figure has fallen to 12%. It’s not only Turkey; only 37% of Germans report a positive view of America, and 23% of Spaniards. In fact, only two of the countries surveyed had over 60% of their population reporting a positive regard for America: Japan and Nigeria. Very disturbing.

This disenchantment is not only about the war; it’s also about broken promises, hidden agendas, and exploitation. People have lost faith that America is an honest nation that acts according to honest values. Hmmm…

There’s a strong contingent of fundamentalist Muslims who hate America and would love to see it destroyed. That was made more than clear in the podcast. A Turkish journalist said, “No one in the Middle East, including Turkey, believes America has good intentions.” The faith in American values has been replaced by skepticism, fear, and hatred. Turkish students no longer clamor to attend American colleges; many feel unwelcome, and even fearful. What a sad commentary.

One of my readers back home sent me a very disturbing e-mail expressing the exact reverse view: he feels that Islam is the scourge of the world and wants to see the Muslim world destroyed. It’s painful to see this fundamentalist hatred on either side. Many people perceive recent global conflicts as a religious war between the Christian and Islamic worlds. Others perceive recent American actions as imperialism. This extremism is disturbing, though I’ve seen little of it personally.

I have to admit, in spite of anti-American sentiments over here, my experience has been positive. I feel safer here than I do at home. People have been both warm and friendly, probably because as people we deal with each other as individuals, not as representatives of a country or a faith. It’s not me that the Turks dislike, it’s my government, its war, and its aggressive capitalism. I get that. They don’t hold it against me, though they often ask me why it’s happened. I wish I could explain, but I can’t.

What I do know is that everyone—all across the globe—needs to work on humility, tolerance, and benevolence. Isn’t that what both Christ and Muhammed taught us? Somehow those crucial lessons have been lost in the shuffle—in the struggle.

It will take years for America to rebuild the trust that other countries once had in us. I hope it’s not too late.