Ann Marie’s Istanbul – Page 6 – experiences in and around Turkey

Old Fogies kayak the Apostles

September 16, 2010September 17, 2010 amershon2 Comments

The sixth annual Old Fogies Lake Superior Kayak Trip challenged us—at least a bit. We had a few handicaps this year: I was just over a month beyond foot surgery, Dick has a bum hip, and Annie has temperamental elbows and shoulders (due to an oversized kayak). Jini and Mike seemed to be in pretty good shape, but there’s always the spectre of arthritis haunting us. Could we actually BE Old Fogies? We range from 59 to 69. Hmmm…
Because we couldn’t get out until September, we decided to return to the relatively protected area of the Apostles, hoping to visit the islands we’d missed on our first trip. The weather had been stellar for weeks before our trip, so we had high hopes it would continue.

It didn’t.

Sigh…

Me and Mike and Maggie’s flamingoes
Late Thursday afternoon (after a DELICIOUS lunch in Bayfield at Maggie’s Restaurant–decorated to the hilt with flamingoes) we pulled into the Little Sand Bay, our destination. We hauled our kayaks down to the beach and loaded untold amounts of gear into them, a process called “staging.” According to Mike, we finished in record time. As we cast off from shore, we wondered about the six men who’d loaded their kayaks up on the lawn near their cars. Though it’s a chore to haul gear down to the beach, it’s FAR more difficult to carry 150+ pound loaded kayaks. To each his own.

My kayak and the gear that will go into it.

We donned our rain gear, and a mist began to fall as we paddled the six+ miles to our campsite. The guys pushed on ahead while Annie, Jini, and I took our time crossing, ecstatic with the glee of a new adventure. The mist abated as we approached Sand Island, where we were rewarded with shoreline sea caves. It’s virtually impossible to pass a sea cave without exploring; we took our sweet time enjoying the echoes, splooshes, and challenges of paddling through them.

Sea caves along Sand Island

Our first trial was paddling around the northerly point of the island into the wind, where crosswinds created a jumble of multi-directional waves, peaking erratically. Challenging, but VERY fun! We had to focus on the waves, so we could only steal quick glances at the picturesque Sand Island Lighthouse perched high on the point.

Sand Island Lighthouse

FINALLY! We reached our campsite before dark, well aware that it might be our home for the next few nights. We’d been warned of high winds to come and expected to be windbound. Luckily, both Mike and Dick have weather radios, and we did daily checks on weather and small-craft warnings. Our campsite was in a protected cove where we couldn’t really see the waves, but we were later told that ten-foot waves were reported on Friday.

Needless to say, we spent two nights on Sand Island. To fill our non-paddling days, we hiked. Down the beach, over to the lighthouse, and around the island (at least the others did—my foot wasn’t up to more than a few kilometers of hiking at a stretch, so I only walked the beach and to the lighthouse).

Walking Sand Island beach

Saturday the sun was high and the waves were, too. We were disappointed, but our radio informed us that the waves would abate later in the afternoon. We decided to enjoy the sunshine and then pack up our gear. We would have our big evening meal at noon, then be ready to cast off when things looked safe. I think we launched about 2:00 for a 14-mile paddle to Rocky Island. The good news is that the wind was with us, though we felt a bit more like surfers than kayakers.

Mike reads on a rock as we wait for the waves to calm down

We were totally exhausted when we rounded the sandy point to our destination (leeward, thank goodness) on Rocky. Lo and behold, there were no less than 12 sailboats moored just down from the first campsite.

Sunset from our campsite on Rocky Island

We had no reservation there, but we assumed that since it was 6:00 p.m. we could take any available campsite. The first site was located just off the beach, it was close, and it had great tent sites. We heaved a great sigh of relief, hauled our food to the bear box, unloaded our lunch packs, and dove in. YUM! After imbibing in both food and drink, we got the tents up just before the sun set.

Imagine our surprise when two shadows emerged from the dark just offshore, paddling our way. OOPS!!! They had, indeed, reserved this campsite, but they kindly offered to camp on the beach nearby. “Don’t worry. We’ll just wait for the ranger to leave. We prefer the beach anyway.” This considerate pair of brothers from Chicago refused our offer to join us in our site and waited until the ranger’s boat left the cove. Whew! Were we lucky! They could have made a real stink about us taking the site, but they WERE really late.

Our lovely Rocky Island campsite—after breakfast

The morning brought calm waters. Hooray! We indulged in a big breakfast of bran muffin/pancakes, then walked the beach, watching the birds and exploring the island. Mike took off on a 20-mile trek to North Twin and Outer Island, while the rest of us lollygagged before heading out on the short 6-mile paddle to Cat Island.

A fascinating lone cedar along the shore of South Twin, imagine two nearby eagles shrilling to each other…

Our campsite on Cat had a beautiful sand beach, but the cooking area and tent sites were high up on the hill in the woods. No picnic table—bummer. We had to fix food on top of the rusty old bear box. Halfway up the hill was a moldering toilet–our joke for the day. It was our first real latrine—a system of composting where we’d toss in a handful of “forest duff” after each use. The base of it was open, though screened from insects and bears, and believe it or not, it didn’t stink. Good thing.

The Deluxe Moldering Toilet, complete with instructions

Just as we were wondering how late Mike would be, he pulled up on the beach. He’d said he’d be back by 6:00, and it was 6:05. Of course, we gave him grief for being late. Why not? We were joined by a few sailboats moored off the beach (It was Labor Day weekend), and they made a point of visiting the famous toilet. Three of the boats were peopled by Single Christians who were there for some serious socializing. They couldn’t outdo us, though—in fact, one of them walked over to ask what we’d been laughing about so hysterically. “Inside joke,” Dick explained. We felt it a bit too ribald for single Christians (something about Dick’s little orange hot-dog tent). Actually, we dissolve into hysterical laughter at least daily. This trip it was often over the Dick and Mike Show: two drunks at a Wisconsin bar. Guffaw.
Dick and I sat up with the trip’s first campfire until late that night–nearly 9:30 (we were usually in our tents around 8:00).

Ah, FINALLY—a camfire!

Dick roused us all at 6:30 with a report that we needed to race through breakfast and get on the water, as the waves were going to increase to 4-6 feet by afternoon. ARAUGHHH!!! Man, did we MOVE! Cold breakfast (thanks, Jini), pack up, and off we flew. The wind was behind us, and the waves were already 2-3 feet high, amazing after the calm of the previous day.
We tried to stay together, but it wasn’t easy, especially since Jini and I decided to break the trip up with a short stop to investigate a STELLAR campsite on the south tip of Ironwood Island. The waves grew, and once we were closer to each other, we would lose sight of everything but heads–big waves. Mike was busy surfing them, smart-alec. He set a plan of action for landing in the high waves at our Oak Island campsite. He would go in first, then each of us in turn would ride a wave onto the sand, hop quickly out of the kayak, and those on the beach would pull it up before the next wave crashed. Annie made the mistake of standing up IN her kayak and was thrown off balance when they yanked her kayak up. Oops! No injuries–just laughter.

Annie and Mike prepare a delectable Breakfast for us.

It was a nice campsite, except for the wind, which pounded us head-on. I now understand how women on the prairie would go crazy from the wind. We got rid of our wet clothes, bundled up, then sat in the sun to enjoy a late lunch. Once again, we were totally exhausted. According to Dick’s GPS, we had done 8 miles in two hours with a top speed of over six miles an hour. Thank-you, Wind!

Behind the tarps on Oak Island
Jini and I pitched our tent in a quiet clearing back near the loo (wind blew away any odors), and by the second night, Annie and Mike joined us back there. We set up a rain tarp and a wind tarp, and there was a small area behind them where the wind was just tolerable. It was better to be back in the woods. We all headed up to the Overlook during the afternoon, marveling at the unique forest of hemlocks, maples, and birch.

“THIS is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms”

-from Evangeline, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Mushrooms abounded as well–it was gorgeous. Later we did our share of reading and napping in hammocks and tents. Even back in the woods, though, the chilling wind shortened our hammock sojourns.

A coral mushroom, growing on a downed tree

Flowery-looking fungus on a downed tree

We knew we’d be windbound another night, so we took our time with cocktail hour and meals—always with the added treat of the Dick and Mike show. What a pair!
We’d hoped the wind would die down during the night on Wednesday, but the gales were still blasting us. The waves were manageable, though, and we were tired of hanging out at Oak. We packed up and headed off for Raspberry Island, hoping to be rewarded with a wind-free beach. It was a rough paddle into the wind, but we finally made it. And it was perfect. Annie and I washed our hair, letting it dry in the windless sunshine. HOORAY!!! We relaxed over lunch, napped, and read on the beach, then hiked through the woods to the lighthouse on the north end of the island. Dick and Mike enjoyed a rollicking game of croquet while Jini and I listened to the tales of our young ranger guide. He finally explained, too, that the lush Canadian yew on the island was due to the dearth of deer on Raspberry. It had been mere ground cover on Sand Island, where there’s a big deer herd. Apparently it’s pretty delicious. I’ll pass.

Croquet on the Raspberry Island Lighthouse lawn

Raspberry Lighthouse Kitchen, circa 1920
We tore ourselves away from the island around 2:00, and it took us a few more hours to paddle the five additional miles to our landing. The wind gradually abated, and we were able to chat and explore the shoreline as we approached our final destination on Little Sand Bay. Whew!

Late afternoon, paddling back to Little Sand Bay
As we drove home, the sun set over a glass-smooth Lake Superior. Now how did THAT happen? We later learned that a kayaker had drowned near Sand Island the next day. I’m glad we’re cautious. Old Fogies are.

Happy Old Fogies: Jini, Dick, Me, Annie, & Mike.

Bavaria with My Buddies

August 2, 2010August 2, 2010 amershon3 Comments

This missive marks the last of my “Istanbul Blogs” though it’s not really about Istanbul at all. My final week overseas was spent with my sister Laura and her family exploring Bavaria—Munich and Innsbruck. I’m sure it was an adventure for them to travel with this “disabled auntie”, and they were all more than accommodating of my needs. We’d happily celebrated Jana and Olaf’s marriage in Hamburg and looked forward eagerly to our flight to Munich. We weren’t exactly thrilled to stand in line with a rowdy group of “fussball” revelers. They said they’d been down for a combined football and stag party. One even offered to sign Matthew’s Twins cap. Pretty drunk.

Hamburg “foosball” revelers~checking in at the airport

One of the advantages of traveling with a wheelchair is that the entire party is whisked through expedited security. Erin and Matthew loved it. Libby was, as usual, hesitant to go through the scanner without me, but the guard dragged her through, and she waited for me nervously.

A wheelchair awaited me in Munich, and Erin pushed me while Matt pushed the luggage cart. Lucky thing, as Matt rammed into a barrier in the parking area. No loss for our luggage, but it might have been painful for me. (He couldn’t see over our mountain of luggage.)

After lengthy negotiations for a larger vehicle (a monster Mercedes van), we headed off for Dachau, about a half hour outside Munich. We had a quick lunch and did some major reconnoitering, and Rob finally found the entrance to the site. It was late afternoon, so the documentary film was over, but we walked (me on crutches) to the main site. Himmler built Dachau, which housed over 200,000 prisoners: Jews, homosexuals, gypsies, Jehovah’s Witnesses, clergymen, and POW’s. 32,000 of them died there. The gate into the compound still has the original saying, “ARBEIT MACHT FRIE”—Work brings freedom.

“Work Brings Freedom”—entrance to Dachau Concentration Camp

Erin perusing the information, Libby’s case in tow

The Wheelchair Wonder—high-fashion matching sandals

We drove up into the mountains to our hotel, the Schwangauer Hof, a country hotel near the two castles we planned to visit. Laura had booked a package called “King Ludwig’s Summer Tour,” and it was fantastic. We enjoyed lavish breakfasts at the hotel, two fabulous 5-course dinners in a deluxe restaurant (even Libby was welcome), and a private evening castle tour and carriage ride (with schnapps at the horse barns). It was definitely a tour designed for families. The highlight of our first dinner was the “Half Lobster Schwanstein”, morsels of lobster in the shell, swimming in butter and hollandaise sauce. Oh, my!

Half lobster Schwanstein—YUM!!!

Matt and Erin cavort after dinner with the lit castle in the background

On Monday everyone else toured Neuschwanstein Castle, the Disney-looking castle that you often see on posters. Because it was a long uphill hike and hundreds of stairs, I decided to forego that tour. I planted myself in an outdoor restaurant with my knitting and an i-pod audio book. (Love that i-pod!) Rob reported that they were a part of a 100-person tour and that there were many more hundreds touring the three stories of the castle. Apparently 1.3 million tourists visit it each year, an average of 3500 a day. I must admit, I’m not sorry to have missed it.

Neuschwanstein—lived in less than one year

That evening we arrived early for our private castle tour, only to learn that it, too, required an uphill climb. We had lots of time, and I managed all the hills and stairs slowly but comfortably.

The Gillunds pose outside the castle before our tour

Not only did we have a private tour of the stunning Hohenschwanstein Castle, but we were the only ones there. (Sadly, no indoor photos allowed.)

Erin welcomes us to the castle—NO TOURISTS! (except us)

Our tour guide closed things up as he showed us around, regaling us with fascinating stories about King Ludwig and answering all our questions. I’ve never enjoyed a castle tour more than this one. King Ludwig wasn’t totally crazy—just different. Our guide suggested that he was declared insane for political reasons, which most likely precipitated his death (suicide?) at age 40.

Hohenschwangau Castle, exterior

After the tour we clambered into a horse carriage and were treated to a tour through the valley, including a stop at a pristine horse stable for a glass of schnapps and a look at the horses. A cleaner stable I’ll never see, and the owner and our driver were both congenial hosts.

Our horse cart tour included many homes like this one…very Bavarian!

Yet another stunning meal (how lucky can we get?) topped off our last night near Swan Lake (hence the “schwan” in the castle names).

This swan graces the top of the castle, named for the nearby Swan Lake

Tuesday morning we climbed into our luxurious van for the drive to Innsbruck, Austria, where we hoped to spend some time hiking in the mountains. Well, except for me… We checked into a very charming alpine hotel (The Tyrolis) and decided to head out for a tour of the Alpine Zoo. Libby and I were turned away at the gate (no dogs), so we hung out again with knitting and an audio book. Sigh…

Knitting outside the zoo…

After the zoo episode we found our way to the city center, which brought back memories of an earlier trip there with my sister-in-law Dodie (1982). We stopped to watch two buskers, one a silver-plated Bo-Peep character with a little dog (no lamb), and the other was a man with a crystal orb for juggling and magic tricks.

A silver-plated Bo-Peep and company in Innsbruck

My favorite Bavarian Singers, Matt and Erin

We sauntered the ancient streets (at my very slow crutcherly pace) and just enjoyed people-watching and browsing among the shops. I continue to be fascinated with medieval cities, and Innsbruck is a charming example. Of course, we enjoyed a heffe weissen, my beer of choice in Germany. YUM!

Tipping a brew to Bavaria, Rob, Laura, and me

On our last lovely day in Austria we took a cable car up the mountain, where I settled myself to knit (again) as the rest of the family trekked into the mountains. They came across a very friendly herd of sheep, probably expecting snacks. Libby was a bit confused, not quite sure how to interact with them.

The Gillunds (and Libby) being accosted by Alpine sheep

They hiked up higher, then returned to the chalet for lunch. Then we decided to go to the Swarovski Crystal Museum, expecting a demonstration of how the famous crystals are mined and manufactured.

Swarovski museum entrance

It was far from that, but it was a pretty fascinating art museum with pieces based on the crystal concept—works ranging from a huge honeycomb-domed room of triangular mirrors to an avant-garde theatrical piece, an entire room of animated mannequins and costumes. Weird, but fun. The kids loved each new and unique experience. The museum’s exit was a huge Swarovski Crystal store. Surprise. (Yawn.)

Matthew the Key Dude

Our last night in Germany was spent back in Hamburg with Jana, Olaf, and little Max. We dined on a delicious pasta dinner on their charming patio (landscaped, of course, by Olaf). A tiny fountain and fish pond gurgled as we ate, chatting and marveling at the miracle of little Max, who seemed to have grown in less than a week.

Post-bath Froggie Baby–Maximillian Sequoya

What a lovely way to finish our time in Germany, with people we love. Lucky me…lucky we!

From Istanbul to Hamburg via Oldenburg

July 21, 2010July 21, 2010 amershonLeave a comment

Sometimes I wonder if my life will EVER settle down. It’s bound to happen some day—just not today. Here’s my most recent adventure: After hugging Laura and Yvette farewell, I cast one last glance over the sparkling Bosphorus before I clambered into the car for the airport, bags and Libby in tow. The driver helped me in, and at check-in I arranged for wheelchair transport to the gate, which was slow coming, but well worth the wait. The flight was fine—I had three seats to myself, so I could prop my broken foot up beside me.

Wheelchair service bypasses lines, so although I was last off the plane, I was one of the first to the baggage claim. I heard Libby barking in her crate as we approached. Hops, wags, and hugs. Once my suitcase arrived, I used my crutches. Jana was waiting for me outside customs, and she had parked close. What a sweetie! We had three hours to enjoy hamburgers and marvel at little Max, who has grown since I saw him a month ago; his little hands have finally mastered grasping.

Jana and Max wait with me for the train to Oldenburg

Jana and Olaf helped me on the train, recruiting passengers to assist with my luggage at Bremen, where I was to meet my friend Deidre. But—no Deidre. I waited until the last minute, and a young disabled man helped get my luggage on the train. (Maybe he understood my dilemma better than most?) He called Deidre on his cell, but she didn’t answer. Could she have missed the train? I thought she might be waiting for me in Oldenburg, but no Deidre there, either. I hobbled to a taxi and took it to her apartment, which was dark. We must have miscommunicated. Could she be in Bremen waiting for me? I knew we’d been clear about which train I’d be on. I tried the doorbell. No answer. It was nearly midnight. What to do? Libby and I sat out by the road waiting, to no avail. There was still a light on next door, so I went over and knocked.
Fortunately, they spoke English. Whew! Walter helped me get into Deidre’s building, and we discovered a VERY ill Deidre. Oh, my goodness! He called the ambulance, and I joined her, leaving a confused Libby behind. How could this be? I was supposed to be the invalid, not HER! The long and short of it is that after spending a night together in emergency rooms, Deidre was admitted to the hospital. I went back to her apartment to e-mail her partner and her son, then collapsed into a long-awaited sleep.

Deidre’s partner Laurie had immediately found a flight from London, so he and I got to know each other quite well. He’s definitely a “keeper”—kinder than the average dude. Her son also flew down to visit, and over the week she gradually improved. We shared only one day together at her apartment before I had to leave for Hamburg again—meeting my sister and her family for Jana’s wedding, the main reason for our trip to Germany.

My friend Deidre~feeling a bit better

No hospital photos, I’m afraid. Too stressful, although I enjoyed watching the bicycle traffic as it whizzed by the apartment balcony. Actually, I was more than a little jealous—DARNED broken foot!

A walking and bike path across from Deidre’s apartment (note the sign)

Teens heading off for a night on the town…or whatever.

I rode the train back to Hamburg with Deidre’s friend, who helped me find a taxi for our hotel, and my brother-in-law met me in the parking lot. It was hot in Hamburg, but we were all excited about the wedding. I had my own room in this hotel—on the second floor. Sigh… I never really balked at stairs before, but I’m coming to appreciate the trials of the disabled.

Jana and Olaf’s wedding was at the Schloss Ahrensburg, a lovely castle near Olaf’s family home. 10:30 Friday morning—amazing! Friday is wedding day at the castle.

My sisters family pose in front of the castle

It was held in a baroque top-floor chapel (no elevator)—quite different from American weddings. We were a small group, and the bride and groom sat at a table across from the officiator. He chatted with them amiably, then their two sponsors joined them. My niece Erin sat off at the side, waiting to hand over the rings. Little Max was good, nearly the whole time. What can you expect of a 5-month-old?

Olaf and Jana were seated for this casual ceremony.

The newlyweds are greeted by bubbles.

Erin gets a big hug from Jana, who was her nanny 12 years ago.

Jana, Max, and Olaf–the newly-joined Tonn family

Afterwards we drove to Olaf’s family home, where festivities were held for our group of close family and friends. First, Jana and Olaf had to cut their way through hearts painted on a banner across the entry to the yard, then climb through it.

Olaf and Jana cut through a heart (“Jana + Olaf”), then step through

Next they were confronted with a log on a sawhorse blocking their way under a floral arbor. On went the gloves, and in spite of the heat, they sawed through their log amid cheers from all of us.

Sawing away in the heat–only Jana has work gloves.

We toasted their success with champagne, then went to the back yard to chat, nibble, and swim (at least the kids). The yard at the Tonn house was incredible—lovingly landscaped by Olaf. The huge fish pond doubled as a swimming pool for everyone under about 35.

Check out the fish in the pool…

…which was well utilized for heat management activities.

The weather was HOT! The rest of us sweated and sipped beer or lemonade in the shade. At one point revelers appeared with scores of heart-shaped balloons, which were ceremoniously released into the atmosphere (a few were nabbed by children or caught in tree boughs).

Here’s to LOVE!!!!

At 6:00 the caterers arrived with a spectacular meal, which we all enjoyed inside the glass-enclosed family room as we toasted Jana and Olaf. It might have been a hot day, but we were thrilled to see them so much in love—with each other as well as with their little Max. We guests all received ginko bilboa seedlings to plant in honor of the event. (No hope for getting THAT through customs. I’ll buy one in Minnesota.) Even their cake was decorated with ginko bilboa—these two are DEFINITELY tree people (in fact, they met at a tree convention).

A truly unique wedding cake, a la ginko

After a full, fulfilling day, we collapsed into bed soon after returning to our hotel.

Saturday morning we woke early for a harbor tour with Jana’s parents and cousin. Hamburg is the third largest harbor in Europe, in spite of the fact that it lies 100 kilometers from the North Sea. (Rotterdam and Antwerp are ahead.) The harbor is a maze, but we were duly impressed with its many huge docks and ships.

A container dock–the ship carries 10,000 containers.

A rather cheerful-looking cruise ship in the harbor

Particularly notable was a private cruiser being built for a wealthy Russian, Roman Abramovich. This ship, supposedly costing about 1.2 billion dollars, is reputedly the world’s largest private yacht. Let’s see. Am I impressed? I wonder how that money could have been put to better use, especially since he already had five huge yachts. Hmmm…

The Eclipse, Abramavich’s yacht–the biggest in the world.

Musicians entertained us on the Hamburg Harbor docks.

We had a “wurst and weissen” lunch, then headed back to Olaf’s parents’ house to watch the world cup quarterfinal game, which Germany won handily over Argentina. That definitely created a happy crowd of revelers for the party. There were more fun activities, including a painter’s canvas covered with penciled hearts and ginko leaves—for everyone to paint at their leisure. Very cool.

A group gift to remember the wedding weekend

Dancing started around 9:00, and we enjoyed a few dances before droopy eyelids dragged us back to our motel again. I tried to dance on one leg, but one song was enough. Sigh… Not long after we left, the party really got rocking.

Erin and Matt danced with Jana

True to German form, Olaf, Jana and their friends celebrated long into the night. Bless their young hearts

Last days in Istanbul

June 25, 2010June 25, 2010 amershon2 Comments

Eventful, disheartening, and affirming. My last days in Istanbul.

Why? Well, the last weeks of school have certainly been eventful with exams, farewells, parties, and a delightful LP Celebration for the last day of school on Wednesday. The teachers topped off the celebration with a farcical skit incorporating characters from the books they’d read this year (penned by Jake Becker). It was great fun for everyone, particularly us teachers.

Teacher’s feet line-up (waiting for our cues)

Alison (Scout, To Kill A Mockingbird) lets Jameson (Phil, Nothing But the Truth) have it.

Karla (Miss Mayella, To Kill A Mockingbird) points out the chiffarobe for Jason (Kevin, Across the Barricades) to reach a copy of Animal Farm.

Jason and Charlotte (Kevin and Sadie, Across the Barricades) run into each others’ arms.

Me (Aunt Alexandra, To Kill A Mockingbird) and Şebnem (Molly, Animal Farm) look on.

Author Jake (Jonas, The Giver) tries a drink from Ambrose (Dolphus Raymond, To Kill A Mockingbird)

Reagan (Atticus, To Kill A Mockingbird) explains the deeper meaning of it all.

Curtain call, starring a good many of the Robert College LP English teachers.

More eventfulness: Mayu and Genya returned from Cappadocia to Istanbul Thursday night, and we shared a flurry of activity during their last three daysRumile Castle, Sultanahmet, a farewell dinner on Musa’s balcony overlooking the Marmara, and a Sunday trip to Ortaköy with a Bosphorus cruise. A great finish to a welcome visit.

Mayu and Genya climbing the Rumile Castle Ramparts

Sighting down the ramparts (note fearless Libby)

The Rumile Castle, Istanbul

An incongruous sight just outside Arnavutköy on our way home.

Mayu over Istanbul

Musa’s wonderful farewell feast (imagine the Marmara view)

My friend Uygar made it to the dinner while en route to Spain

Monday morning dawned cool and brilliant, and I eagerly set off for Libby’s morning trek before hiking up to school for a day of meetings. We were heading down the hill behind my house when BANG! I crashed to the ground. Wondering how I had fallen, I took stock of myself: sore elbow, skinned knee—but coffee cup intact (it’s stainless steel). As I got up I noticed a sharp pain in my foot. This is the disheartening part. The long and short of it is that I have a double fracture in the bones of my left foot and am now the proud owner of a hard cast, a “walking boot,” and a sparkling new set of crutches. Sigh…

Here’s my new reality.

My plans for the week flew out the window. No dinner and dancing at the RC year-end gala, no tango night with my friends Aşkin and Soner, and no attending Duygu’s wedding with my friend David. Another sigh. Disheartened, but NEVER beaten!

Then comes the affirming part. Of course, people at school were more than supportive. I was excused from meetings (obviously), and Tulu arranged a driver to take me to the airport. Once word was out, I was offered their condolences and support at every turn. I got a call from my niece Laura, who was visiting Olympus on the Mediterranean shore. She and Yvette decided to come back to Istanbul to lend me a hand, cutting their Mediterranean tour short. They’ve been incredibly helpful with the two L’s, laudry and Libby (walking). Poor Libby had only been to the bottom of the apartment steps to do her daily you-know-what; the first time they took her for a walk, she pooped three times (much to their glee). They’ve also helped with packing, errands, cooking, and cleaning. True godsends.

Yvette and Laura (my saviors) are over the moon about their new Australian Prime Minister, Julia Gillard

But there’s MORE affirming stuff: My friend David came all the way over here from Koç to bid me farewell and join us for dinner (well, he had to pick up some things I’d bought for him in Sultanahmet). That was lovely.

Then last night my friends Aşkin and Soner (who were originally going to meet me for their weekly tango night) drove all the way here from Gebze to say goodbye. “You can’t say goodbye on internet!” Aşkin scolded. It took them three hours to drive here, and they were only able to stay for two. Gosh, I love those guys!

The list goes on, including my trip down to Arnavutköy to close my bank account and run a few errands (with Laura’s help). As we were hunting for a taxi back up the hill, a taxi driver with a passenger in the front seat told us to hop in. He took us home and refused payment. Now would THAT happen in the U.S.?

Libby’s new friend Yasemin stopped by to take her for a walk.

Yasemin walked Libby through a campus woods last week.

Tomorrow Libby and I are off to Germany for a few weeks of travel with friends and family. Jana has arranged for a larger car to pick me up and deliver me to the train station, and my friend Deidre is taking the train to Bremen to help me with the transfer there (me, crutches, suitcase, and dog). I’m disappointed that I won’t be able to bike around Oldenburg with Deidre, but we’ll make the most of things.

Libby and I resting up for the big trip. Welcome to my world…

Next Thursday Deidre’s friend will help me and Libby take the train back to Hamburg, where I’ll meet my sister Laura and her family at their hotel. Our dear friend Jana is marrying Olaf the next day, which is the impetus behind this trip to Germany. I imagine I won’t dance too much at the wedding (duh!), but it’s happening in a small castle. What fun! After all the festivities, Laura’s family and I are flying to Munich, then heading off into the alps. I can’t wait to travel with Matt and Erin, although I’m going to have to pass on the hiking. Sigh… At least I get to be with the people I love.

That’s really what it’s all about, isn’t it?

Clapton and a Cruise

June 16, 2010June 17, 2010 amershonLeave a comment

Here I am, reporting in with a few stunning events from my week. Sometimes I wonder whether I have more than my allotment of “golden opportunities” or whether I’m just easily impressed. Who knows?

I spent the weekend exploring Sultanahmet, Ortaköy, and the Kanyon Mall with my friends Mayu, Genya, and David. I snapped a photo of a simit seller in the Büyük Valide Han,

Simitçi at the Büyük Valide Han

and later as we enjoyed afternoon tea at the Taş Han, Mayu and Genya donned historic headgear. Couldn’t resist yet another photo.

Mayu and Genya a la Turka

While Mayu and Genya shopped in the ultra-modern Kanyon Mall, David and I sat over lunch listening to a blues band playing in a nearby courtyard. Nice.

The Kanyon Mall—amazing!

Sunday night David and I shared dinner with Mayu and Genya at the Abracadabra Restaurant (third story balcony overlooking the Bosphorus) before attending the Eric Clapton and Steve Winwood concert.

Genya supports a ship as it navigates the Bosphorus

Genya asked whether we would be standing for the concert, and David assured him, “Of course not. We’re too old for that. We’ll sit.” After dinner, David and I set off on foot for the concert, eager to get good seats in the general admission venue. Traffic was at a standstill, and the crowd thickened as we approached the open air arena beside the water. We were herded down behind the arena, moving slowly in a mass rather than a line. Ferries from the Asian side of the Bosphorus unloaded hundreds more attendees, further condensing the crowd. As we waited, we chatted with our Bağdat Street dentist friend and his wife—both music aficionados.

Mobbing the gate at the Eric Clapton and Steve Winwood concert

As we approached the arena it became apparent that there was seating only for the Istanbul elite. We would be groundlings, packed into the open arena like sardines. I wondered whether I’d be able to stand for two whole hours, but I was willing to give it a go.

“Speaking of ‘go,’ where are the bathrooms?” I asked David.

“Somewhere,” he assured me. “Somewhere.”

Sigh…

I decided not to buy a beer.

We ended up in the middle of the crowd on a bit of a ridge, so we could see the stage, though not well. We were probably 100 “people rows” back, about 50 yards from the stage. I figure there were something like 10,000 to 15,000 people packed in there. Amazing.

Fans a hundred deep ahead of us.

The concert started almost on time (amazing for Turkey). The crowd exploded as Clapton and Winwood stepped on stage, and from there it was sheer magic. The music was energetic and varied—stunning. Two huge screens beside the stage magnified the performers for us, and the camera work was exceptional.

Winwood on keyboard (screen shot)

Clapton on guitar (screen shot)

Of course, it was all about the music—the crowd went wild for “Layla” and “Cocaine,” clapping and singing along. Midway through the concert, an amazing fireworks exhibition emerged over the Bosphorus. They had to turn up the sound to play over the staccato of the fireworks, but the effect was entrancing.

The fireworks (from whereseric.com)

There was NO standing still for any of us, and dancing made “standing room only” just that much better. Our only problems were the chain smoker next to me and David’s neighbor on the other side, who was more than exuberant—screaming, whistling, and jumping around all night long. Oh, my goodness. David dubbed him “Bubba.” It fit.

David and Bubba (in the brown)—active guy!

It was a hot evening, and you can’t imagine how much heat emanates from 15,000 dancing bodies. Thank goodness the Bosphorus breezes cooled at least our heads. It was a memorable night in every way. (And—I never needed to seek out the rest rooms. Whew!)

I don’t know how often these guys do an encore, but this crowd just wouldn’t give up—we INSISTED on yet another number, and we got it: “Dear Mr. Fantasy”

My second event of the week, not quite so spectacular in the “fame” arena, was the Lise Prep Bosphorus Cruise. Though it wasn’t my first boat cruise, it was wonderful to share it with my students and teaching peers. The day was warm, but the breezes kept us cool as we chatted, snapped photos, and admired the amazing homes and palaces along the water.

My LP3 class cavorting on the ferry steps

The LP1 “golden girls”

Beneath the Bosphorus suspension bridge

The afternoon grew long for a few…

…while others reveled in the sights…

…and others entertained themselves with music.

There’s really not so much to say about it except that it was an awesome way to spend our last afternoon of school. Really.

Robert College knows how to celebrate these wonderful kids.

Istanbul Count-down

June 11, 2010June 11, 2010 amershon1 Comment

I’m down to counting days, now. My niece Laura (and friend) just left for Cappadocia after staying with me for a delightful seventeen days, my AFS daughter Mayu (and friend) will be here for nine days (including four in Cappadocia), and in fourteen days I’ll be boarding a plane for Germany on my way home. Oh, my goodness! Time is flying, and thankfully it’s not particularly HOT time. Busy time, though.

Last weekend I was asked to take photos for a friend’s retirement party; Diane has taught English at Robert College for “forever” (as she puts it), and she was enthusiastically celebrated by her peers at a restaurant reception.

Diane and her retirement accoutrements

She spent a lot of the evening laughing (in spite of the fact that she was the LAST person to be served), and—bless her heart—she wore a goofy heart-antennae headband all night long.

It was definitely a gleeful night.

I hope she enjoys retirement; actually, I don’t know anyone who doesn’t. Next year Diane and I will both be free to sleep in, relax with a novel, and just lollygag our way through each day. It will be interesting to see how expertly we meet that lofty goal.

Saturday morning I rousted Laura and Yvette early to do a tour of Sultanahmet. Jeff Wilhelm was at Robert giving seminars for English teachers, and he joined us for the day as well. I shared all of my favorite haunts around the Grand Bazaar, including some of Edda’s hidden treasures from our guidebook.

Jeff, Laura, and Yvette at the Grand Bazaar

Turkish shadow puppets

Nizan Bey demonstrates an antique room heater.

We finished our long morning with lunch in the sun-drenched courtyard of the Taş Han, a marble fountain gurgling beside our table. After that we trekked to Musa’s rug studio, where I had to pick up a few rugs for my friend Susan. Musa was busy making sarma (delectably spiced rice rolled in grape leaves) and invited us to sojourn on his terrace overlooking the Marmara as he finished them. A bottle of wine and a platter of cheese cubes contributed to a most enjoyable rest, especially after the six stories of spiral stairs we trudged to get up there. Musa was just too darn tired for the climb.

Huseyin Bey chats with us at Harem 49

Jeff headed back to campus to meet friends for dinner, but the girls and I were not yet spent. We decided to visit my friend Huseyin at his rug shop, Harem 49 (where we each found a treasure), then we wended our way to the Doy-Doy, a favorite Turkish restaurant with a lovely rooftop terrace.

Before the mezes arrived, the rain came. What started as a light drizzle soon forced us indoors. Sigh… It rained for 40 days and 40 nights. Not really, but at times this week I’ve wondered. Rain kept us in on Sunday and continued Monday and Tuesday. The Ministry of Education closed down all the Istanbul schools because of rain. WHAT???? Well, all the schools except Robert College, that is. It was finals week here. Finals week at Robert is tantamount to sacred.

Tuesday evening we headed back into Sultanahmet for a belly dancing performance at the Taş Han—one of my favorite “touristy” events. Jeff joined us for it, and I wasn’t a bit surprised when the first dancer chose him for a public lesson in humility.

Jeff does his best to imitate this Turkish artisan.

It was pretty darn cute to see an incredibly intelligent man out there shaking his booty with a scantily-clad beauty. After he resumed his seat, she chose a small group of women to learn the skill—and Laura got to entertain us with her antics as well.

Laura takes a lesson from the pro.

A good time was had by all. We hung in until the disco music undid us, then hopped a taxi back to Arnavutköy—a mere 5 lira each (that’s about $3). Not much is cheap in Istanbul these days, but the taxis are a pretty good deal (if the driver doesn’t rip you off, which is getting to be more common).

My house is now brimming with new guests—Japanese this time, my lovely AFS daughter Mayu and her friend Genya. Oh, how I love showing off Istanbul.

Goofy Genya and giddy Mayu at dinner.

Dinner at the Takanik. YUM!!!

The Art of Ebru

June 3, 2010June 3, 2010 amershon3 Comments

Do you know what ebru is?

Well, you might recall the swirly multi-colored paper used for endsheets in old leather-bound books…paper marbling? It always reminded me of the oil-colors we used for decorating Easter eggs. Well, anyway, that’s ebru, the Turkish art of paper marbling.

Ebru is an ancient art that most likely originated in China. It was transported to Iran and Anatolia (later Turkey) along the Silk Road, and evidence of this art is seen in manuscripts dating back to the 1500’s. I’ve always been fascinated with this process, and last weekend I got to see it firsthand. Where? At the Robert College Fine Arts Festival. One of their many interesting booths demonstrated ebru paper marbling, and festival participants got to try their hands at it—for free!

Someone’s creative work awaits their return

It’s a fascinating process. A square pan of water sits at the ready to have oily paints splattered it. Actually, it’s not plain water, but water with gum tragacanth mixed in it. Next, a heavy horsehair brush is dipped in a pigment, more a dye than a paint, and splattered on the surface of the gummed water. It’s important to squeeze most of the paint off the brush, then tap the brush lightly against your hand to splatter color on the water.

An artisan demonstrates tapping dye onto the water’s surface.

Just as you would expect with oil colors, they spread out. You begin with yellow, the lightest color, then go to darker colors, layering the “spots” as you go.

A final splattering of blue dye

Once you’ve splattered all the colors on the water, you take a small stick and swirl the colors into a pattern, stretching the dots into interesting shapes, much like marbling two colors of cake batter into a marbled cake. The difference here, though, is the fine blending of the colors as they intermingle.

Swirling the dots into marbled designs

After developing a neatly swirled design across the surface, it’s possible to vary that in a number of ways. You can draw a stick through the patterns in the opposite direction, or draw a comb-like board with evenly-spaced nails across it to form a more intricate pattern. It’s hard to explain, but a photo says it all.

Pulling a pin-comb across the surface

…for a totally different result

After all that, it’s possible to put larger dots of color on top of it all and shape that into a tulip or a multi-petaled flower. It’s all very fascinating. Apparently the overlayering of tulips and larger designs was an Ottoman invention—started by an imam at the Haghia Sophia.

A few tulips add to the magic.

Tulips just “off the water”

Though it seems a complicated art, even young children at the art festival managed some very interesting patterns—certainly more creative than those of we adults!

Young Elijah, budding artist, creates his own unique ebru

My niece Laura had a go at it, as did her friend Yvette. I was too shy (and too busy snapping photos).

Laura taps in the last bits of color

Once the artist is satisfied with the water-borne patterns, a sheet of paper is neatly laid over it. I expected the artisan to peel the paper up from the water, but instead he dragged it across one edge of the metal pan, colored side down. Thanks to the gummed water and tensioning agents, the design stayed totally intact—AMAZING!

A sheet of paper is set atop the dyes…

…and slid off, taking all the dye with it.

Voila! Magnifique! (or—çok güzel!)

After hanging for about ten minutes in the sun, it was dry, ready to go home with whomever had made it.

And that, my friends, is a simple introduction to the amazing art of ebru.

Istanbul with an Infant

May 24, 2010May 24, 2010 amershon2 Comments

Trekking Istanbul with a baby takes strength, endurance, and incredible patience—really. My friends Jana and Olaf exhibited them all. My goodness, what an adventure…

Our beautiful baby—Maximilian Sequoya

Our first challenge was their arrival from Hamburg in the middle of the night (that would be 2:30 AM). Jana was nervous about navigating her way to my apartment with a baby and his rookie traveler father, so I met them at the airport with a taxi. (This is Jana’s fourth trip to Istanbul, but Olaf and Maximillian’s first.)

The happy family, just arrived

All went well, and they settled in comfortably. I tiptoed out for school on Friday morning, letting them sleep in and adjust to the 80+ temps. When I arrived home, they’d already been out exploring Arnavutköy and Bebek and were sweating profusely, both from the heat and from pushing a heavy stroller up the punishing hill to my apartment. In spite of that, they were game to tour the Robert College campus, yet another climb. Both Jana and Olaf work with trees, and they were eager to see what this lush campus had to offer. It met with their fascinated approval, and Olaf came home with a few tiny tree sprouts for his garden.

This carrier works great—when he’s asleep.

They opted for the front carrier this time, which worked pretty well until Max woke up. Then he insisted on being carried independent of the carrier. It’s obviously not his preferred mode of transportation.

We did a good bit of sightseeing last week, including a rainy Saturday in Sultanahmet (the Grand Bazaar)…

a windy Sunday in Ortaköy…

(with a rocky Bosphorus ferry tour)…

a hike up the Bosphorus to the Rumile Castle (closed), and a ferry ride to Eyup…

and back to the Taş Han (for a late lunch).

Jana and Olaf also took Max across the Marmara to visit the Karaca Arboretum and Termal in Yalova. Whew! It was a whirlwind of a week!

Luckily for all of us, Maximilian Sequoyah is a VERY easy baby. Just toting a baby along is hard enough—I can’t imagine a CRYING one.

Here are the challenges we (they) faced:

*Steep, cobbled streets. Fortunately, they have a high-tech buggy with a brake, because going down the streets was nearly as hard as getting up them. Max didn’t mind. He loved the bumpy ride.

*Stairs. Yup—they’re everywhere in Istanbul. This is definitely NOT a handicap-accessible city. No wonder we seldom see wheelchairs. I think people with disabilities just have to stay home. Terrible.

*Public transportation—lifting a buggy onto a ferry, cramming it onto a tram, or squeezing it into a bus. They did it all. Even more amazing was their prowess at breaking down the buggy, folding the frame, and squeezing it into a taxi trunk in less than a minute. Wow.

*Feeding schedules—Though Jana strategized our treks according to feeding times, now and then a nursing baby just has to be fed right now, schedule-be-damned. We’d quickly scope out a tea house or restaurant (or ferry) to accommodate a half hour of sitting. Heck, I’m always game for a cup of coffee or tea!

*Messy diapers. How about in Gulhane Park in the rain? It happened lots of places, but Jana and Olaf met the challenge as a team—always with good humor.

*Baby-loving Turks. Though I’d warned them, it took my friends a while to get used to the Turkish penchant for touching and holding babies. Remember, Jana and Olaf are Germans, a culture not famous for effusive warmth. They came to enjoy it, though, and chuckled at the oft-spoken “Maşallah!” (God protect him.)

It was a joy to spend this time with Jana’s new family, and I wouldn’t have given up a moment of seeing these doting parents eagerly explore my city with their tiny little buddy (who celebrated his four-month birthday here). The clutter, the chaos, and the charm contributed to a fascinating week exploring Istanbul with Max and his grown-ups.

Cappadocia Warm

May 21, 2010May 21, 2010 amershon5 Comments

It goes without saying that Cappadocia is beautiful. But it’s more than that. It’s sicak (see-JOCK) in Turkish, which means warm in temperature—and in temperament: amiable, accommodating, and agreeable.

On Mother’s Day weekend I flew to Cappadocia. I wanted to replace some photos I’d lost from my last trip (intended for a future magazine article); my hasty downloading had dumped them into the nether reaches of my computer. Sigh…

I was unsuccessful at finding a travel companion, so I went alone. Not big on solo travel, I hoped to keep myself busy enough to evade loneliness. A camera is a reasonable (though not particularly chatty) companion.

The Kelebek’s natural accents

After sweating out traffic delays on the way to the airport (a long 3 hours en route from my apartment), I checked in with only moments to spare, then waited out a two-hour flight delay. Wouldn’t you know? I was met at the Kaiseri airport by a thunderstorm and a driver. Whew! When I finally arrived at the Kelebek Hotel, a familiar friendly face welcomed me and showed me to room twelve (charming), where I collapsed into a deep sleep.

Even the numbers are charming.

I’m not going to recount my entire weekend, as it’s a bit redundant. (Took pictures of this, took pictures of that…) What I’d like to share, though, is the warmth I was met with. This was my fifth trek to Cappadocia, and I’ve always stayed at the Kelebek. It’s expanded considerably over the past five years, but its warmth and personalized service continues undiminished. I felt like I’d come home. Hasan’s gravely voice and welcoming smile lift my heart; with unassuming demeanor, he offers his service before you even think of a need. It’s lovely.

The Kelebek breakfast terrace

“You can check in when it’s convenient—any time.” How many hotels offer you that? I spent the night, enjoyed a leisurely breakfast, and was sitting on the side porch with a cup of coffee when Alta (a new employee) brought her clipboard out to check me in. I didn’t even have to step into the office.

I asked if Mehmet and Ali, the hotel’s owners were around, but they were out for the day. I’d catch them for photos later.

Heading off to the hinterlands…

I headed off with my camera to visit two local women outside of town. They live in cave houses and welcome visitors to see their homes, chat, and share tea; then they uncover needlework they have for sale. Most of it they craft themselves during the long winters, although some of it is purchased. As I walked up the road, a little girl called out, “Anne anne, bayan geliyor!” (Grandmother, a lady is coming.) Then in English, she said, “Come to see my grandmother.” Little did she know that’s exactly what I had in mind.

Hatice waiting outside her cave home

I interviewed Hatice (hot-EE-jay), a woman about ten years my junior with an interesting story. She grew up in Göreme, where she attended eight years of school, then married at 16. She was married for thirty years, then divorced, choosing to stay in her cave home and support herself with her needlework. “I don’t need much,” she said, “and I am happy here. It is a quiet life, but a good one.” She showed me a few of the 28 rugs she’s made, but she said that she no longer makes them. She prefers to embroider and make oya to trim scarves. She encouraged me to stay and visit longer, and though I was tempted, I needed to head out.

Hatice with her needlework

My next visit was with Fatma, a woman just around the next fairy chimney. She’s my age mate (60) and has beautiful white hair, a rarity in Turkey. I was told by a Turkish woman that I should let my hair grow long and dye it black, and since then I’ve noticed that nearly all Turkish women dye their hair, even in Göreme. At any rate, Fatma met me with a beautiful smile and removed her scarf to rearrange it before I snapped any photos.

The lovely Fatma on her terrace “sitting room”

She wears a scarf not for religious reasons, but for tradition, common in most rural areas of Turkey. It’s mainly in Istanbul where young women wear their scarves wrapped around their heads in what is called the “turban” style—overtly religious. But don’t get me started…

Fatma’s white scarf is edged in lovely bead oya, lacy trim intended for scarves, though it’s now often transformed into jewelry.

A length of macrame oya ready for a scarf

Fatma never attended school because her grandfather felt that it wasn’t necessary for a girl to be educated. Her sons taught her to read as they learned, though she says she’s very slow. Fatma and her husband live in what was her father’s home, and they keep a vegetable garden for the family, replete with tomatoes, peppers, onions, and the like. They also tend five more gardens away from their home, mostly grapes for raisins.

Fatma’s cave home–with their garden in the foreground

Fatma invited me into her home for tea and cake. Her walls and floor were covered with rugs, either gifts or her own work. Because her sight has weakened, she no longer makes rugs but spends her winters doing needlework. She said she’s made more than 40 carpets over the years. The one hanging on her wall was a work of art.

Age mates posing before a Fatma masterpiece.

I’m afraid I’ve gone on too long. These ladies welcomed me, as did Ruth at Tribal carpets, Şemse at Sultan’s Carpets, and Mehmet and Ali, the owners of the Kelebek. These kind people warmed my heart and made my weekend a delight. Ali (in spite of miserable allergies) gave me a tour of the the new cultural center they’re creating (the focus of my upcoming article).

Ali showing me their new Seten Cultural Center

The ever-friendly Mehmet, Kelebek partner

I was also treated to a fascinating tour of the Open Air Museum–amazing underground churches carved out hundreds of years ago, guided by Mustafa, an incredibly knowledgeable young man. Another Kelebek connection that far surpasses expectations.

A wall of the Dark Church, from the Open Air Museum

Another wall in the Dark Church–amazing!

I just want to stress once more that everyone in Göreme welcomed me warmly, from the soft-spoken room cleaners to restauranteurs, shop owners, and hotel staff. In fact, as I visited numerous hotels for my article, everyone was more than accommodating—except at the most exclusive hotel.

Figures.

Shakespeare on the Green

May 10, 2010May 11, 2010 amershon3 Comments

Robert College just treated me to the most magical theater experience of my life. Really. And—it was SHAKESPEARE!!!

It was the brainchild of Charlotte Şamlı with Jason Shulha and a host of teachers and students. I’d love to share the enchantment of this production that showcases not only the talents of RC actors, but the stunning beauty of our campus in bloom.

Come, join me for this tribute to the bard, “Shakespeare on the Green”…

We begin our evening at 6:30 in a small outdoor arena known as “The Maze,” where our student body gathers for the first day of school, fire drills, and emergencies. Teachers in Elizabethan garb welcome us with an enigmatic program on a full-color map. Hmmm… We seat ourselves on bleachers under spreading chestnut trees (I kid you not—in full bloom), wondering what adventures await.

Teachers prepare to read the prologue.

The air fills with trumpets announcing our actors, who file in to perform an Elizabethan dance, precisely executed.

No one cracks a smile.

Elizabethan dancers in all seriousness

Shylock and Peaseblossom focus on the dance

Actors exit.

Teachers remain (six).

They read from scrolls—a Shakespearean prologue? We are then divided into three more-than-curious groups. Ours is lead by Lady Marita, who regally guides us up the walkway to an outdoor arena.

Lady Marita announces the evening’s festivities

And we wait.

Finally, a swell of Elizabethan music announces the beginning of the festivities, and we’re treated to the courtroom scene from A Merchant in Venice. We are engrossed in Portia’s clever machinations as she first permits Shylock his demand of his adversary’s pound of flesh (from his chest), then specifies that he must do so without shedding a drop of blood. From there she executes his financial ruin. The acting is superb, and even the shakiest English speakers in the audience are enjoying themselves.

The “Duke”, Bassanio, and Antonio in The Merchant of Venice

Shylock “lords it over” Portia, an astute attorney

We are greeted by another “guide” (Lady Alison), dressed in gilt red, who leads us up a road through the woods. Our small group is divided in “twain”. Once we find seats on a small deck, she VERY clearly explains the plot of Macbeth. Before we know it, actors appear from behind a building. Lady Macbeth is sleepwalking again—wringing and wrenching her hands to rid herself of that “damned spot”. A compelling performance, absolutely.

A sleepwalking Lady Macbeth scrubs at her guilty hands

Afterwards, Lady Alison performs a short soliloquy while Squire Jake (another teacher/guide) fawns on her from a nearby railing.

Squire Jake fawns on his coy mistress

After that, the squire launches into his own monologue before leading us through a narrow woodland path, pointing out plants and waxing prosaic as we walk. We pass an actor in red (Macbeth?), frozen in the brush with his back to us.

What scene but the witches could lie ahead? We buzz with excitement as we round a curve to be met by three yowling and screeching green-faced witches. “Double double toil and trouble. Fire burn and cauldron bubble!”

“Double, double, toil and trouble…”

Another amazing performance as they taunt Macbeth and as Banquo’s ghost reveals the prophesy that “no man of woman born” can harm him, that he will be safe until “Burnam Wood comes to Dunsinane.” Not good news for Macbeth (at least for those of us who know the rest)!

The witches welcome the ghost of Banquo

It’s growing dark, and the air is cooling. I’m thankful to have gloves and a warm scarf as we are taken to meet the other half of our group for the next stage (pardon the pun) of our adventure. Sir Joseph Welch downs a swig of liquor and jumps atop a picnic table to begin his monologue—a drunken soliloquy on the seven ages of man. Ah, Much Ado About Nothing—and it is!

Sir Joseph decries the Seven Ages of Man

Totally entranced, we follow him to lawn chairs arranged at the bottom of the hill below Sage for…it HAS to be A Midsummer Night’s Dream. What else could it be with a bower of velvet cushions under boughs strung with ribbons and streamers (and wine corks)? The sun is setting, and our woody “set” is illuminated from multiple directions.

Faerie Queene Titania is sung to sleep by her faeries.

The first to emerge are the Bard’s whimsical woodland faeries, Peasblossom and Mustardseed, soon joined by Puck, the rascally imp who delivers a magic potion. Remember the story? Titania the Faerie Queene is tricked by her lover, Oberon with a potion that will make her fall in love with the first being she sees.

Faerie King Oberon resists the charms of Titania

Bottom the Weaver comes to practice his play (art teacher John Dew), and he is magically transformed into a donkey, which Titania falls madly in love with. Enough said—it was HILARIOUS! Bottom has us in stitches, and the talented ensemble holds us entranced through the entire antic-filled scene. BRAVO!!!

Bottom the Weaver transformed “to an ass”

Bottom revels in Titania’s adoration

We hardly notice that we’re shivering, yet we’re thankful for a break to get hot drinks in the Maze. WHEW!

After intermission everyone is gathered at the bottom of the Gould Hall walkway for a boisterous performance of Falstaff—including the entire acting ensemble. Hilarity abounds, and we try to follow Falstaff’s ribald humor as best we can.

A female Falstaff downs a brew with her cronies.

After that we move en masse up the hill to seats arranged beneath the Gould Hall steps. The air is heavy with the sweet scent of wisteria, and Lady Marita emerges to introduce her ninth grade class’s Ottoman rendition of Romeo and Juliet—the fight scene where Tybalt kills Mercutio and Romeo revenges his death by slaying Tybalt. As dramatic as it is, it’s hysterical with all the Ottoman twists—the local sultan scolds the Kapul and the Mantuk families. We cheer wildly, amazed that these actors have stayed in character in spite of everyone’s mirth.

The Ottoman Montagues—the Mantuks

The Ottoman Capulets—the Kepul Family

Last, but certainly not least, is the Romeo and Juliet balcony scene, expertly choreographed and executed. Juliet opens the scene sighing from her balcony above the wisteria (“Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo”),

Juliet on her wisteria-laden balcony

while Romeo fawns on her from below. “Oh, that I could be a glove upon that hand…”

Romeo speaks lovingly of his Juliet.

Juliet suddenly—magically—appears beside Romeo on the Gould Hall steps, and they entrance us with their passionate performance. At last, a scene that we all know and love.

The marriage pact is shared.

Thanks for joining me for this stunning performance.

And kudos to the creative spirits who made it possible.

Incredible!

L to R, Oberon, Bottom, Mr. Shulha, Ms. Şamlı, Squire Jake and Sir Joseph