TURKEY AGAIN, April 3

Still in the ferry port of Tusucu. Our USB apparatus for online WIFI is not working. It seems we bought the wrong thing, only good for Cyprus. It is hard to believe (and we still don't). But we need to be on our way with a 'dongel' that does work so we shell out 198tl (79usd). Trying to accomplish a sales exchange in the Turkish language is exhausting for us. In fact it is impossible. We come away thinking that there are Turkcell stores all over Europe, though not in the UK. We have bought 4 months time. This WIFI story has not ended I am sure.

We are heading west along the Turkish south coast to meet up with Peter and Kim Ladd at their apartment in Alanya on April 6th. If you remember, we met them in Croatia, sliding up behind where they were parked in a beautiful harbor setting. David hopped out to find out if they would mind if we stayed there, knocking on their window, a bit of conversation, then...returning to me with the information that this couple was traveling for a year and their home was in Seattle, Queen Ann Hill! No kidding! We have been fast friends since and plan to spend a week together.

It will take a few days to get to Alanya. We are driving a gorgeous stretch of high/steep unspoiled coastal road, looking down into turquoise waters in dark and milky shades. Headlands are layer upon layer into the distance. Both pink and white rock roses spread from the roads edge up the hillsides. Red poppies in between, along with dark red tulips. Mulberry trees are full of berries, red and black-ripe. What a spring we have seen! Starting in Cyprus and heading northwest...spring is elongated. A long slow season. It moves with us. We stop in Aydinak. As usual we find our overnight spot at a harbor. Pretty quiet. In the morning we follow a group heading to the remains of an old Roman city. A city official is accompanying them and we are invited along to enter the gated enclosure. Mosaics on the floors, always an exciting sight to see. The folks of those days were not without beauty surrounding them. I wonder how it effected their well being?

Older men are gathered under dappling leaves, letting bits of sunshine dot their hats and jackets and Turkish teas. An everyday meeting. Always something to say to one another and maybe a friendly game of backgammon in progress. An arm across a buddy's shoulder.

We stop at the door of a fisherman's workshop. He is making new nets. We are invited in to watch. His cord colors are green, black and red, each denoting a different purpose. Weights are attached at intervals, as are yellow floats. His hands know what to do. His right hand, holding the shuttle, is flying, the other hand assisting. It is a stunning craft. A useful craft like weaving and quilting. We refuse the tea he offers us because our time is short. A handshake and a genuine thank you (Tesekkur ederim) from us.

On our way again. A family eating blackberries at the side of the road...just like bears! Hillsides of prickly pear cactus. A lady shepherd. And another woman with one goat on a rope. Maybe one goat supplies her family with milk? She is looking cool...Knee boots, flowered draped pants stuck inside them. Pink blouse, beige vest and a flowered long headscarf. She would have fit right into a 'Hippy' community. We stop at a car wash in a town along our route. We want to spiff things up a bit for Peter and Kim! They will be traveling with us through Cappadocia and on to Istanbul.

The next leg of road becomes a repeated pattern...off the old two lane highway and on to a giant new freeway, then back off to the old road again...over and over we do this. The new road is mostly in process, for miles and miles. Never before have we witnessed such earth-moving to make way for smooth-riding traffic. The sand, rock and dirt has been dug, shaped, dumped, dynamited...scaring the rocky hills. Holes of tunnels pushed through. Some day travelers can take their pick...the old slow road or the new fast shoot.

Purple-blue lupine, short and stubby, decorates the roadsides. Bananas grow in orchards just beyond and are sold at roadside. We stop for five fresh bananas. An old woman in low-crotch flowery pantaloons is stooped over, shuffling home to her animals with their dinner on her back, a huge and bulky bundle of weeds and grasses.

We arrive in Alanya as the sun is about to set. Tomorrow is the meeting date, nine in the morning, so we find Kim and Peter's apartment building using the map on our computer, and park across the narrow street from the front door. We will not disturb them until morning. But I am awakened by a taxi or small bus next to us in the darkness of early morning. I wonder if they are just arriving from the Antalya airport. And yes, it is true, as Peter tells us in the morning.

April 6

How wonderful to see our friends again! We take breakfast up to their apartment and spend a lazy morning on their sixth floor sunny balcony getting caught up until it is time to walk the sandy beach, less than a block away. The sand massages our bare wet feet as we sink a little with each step. Chaise lounges on the beach are filled with early vacationers from cold damp northerly places. They have brought their shorts, T-shirts and bathing suits both skimpy and with full coverage, on a variety of older bodies...suntan lotion, sunglasses, bright towels and flip flops. Only a few venture into the springtime chilly sea. Most have heated pools back at their hotels.

Off the sand and on to concrete. We start to look at lunch menus. We begin with the restaurants along the promenade. Too expensive. More than we want to eat. We find an 'off the beaten track' outside spot selling gyros and Turkish pizza. Cold Efes beer. Perfect! We make plans for tomorrow, for the next week. Peter and Kim have rented their apartment here for a few weeks. They will travel northeast with us for a week and then catch a domestic flight back to Antalya when it is time for us to part...to kick back in Alanya before they head back to England, then Seattle.

April 7

We load all four of us into the camper-van. Peter in front, taking over the responsibility of navigation. Kim and I in the back. Their suitcases on the floor in the main cabin. Still plenty of room. And off we go east along the coast then north into high country as far as Karaman. We have been on the road many hours, wanting to spend most of our time in Cappadocia and Istanbul. The hotel we find is The Demson, 5 star! But this does not phase the Ladds. They are both adept at getting a lower price with a handshake of agreeable friendship in the end. Much lower price. And dinner and breakfast come in the deal! They have done so well that they offer to pay for a room for us! What a treat for two campers!

There is a school soccer competition going on. Teams in red, teams in blue or green, their school name and city printed on their backs. They come by our table to talk to us...or to sit awhile. The first words are...”Where are you from?” Pretty soon most of the kids know that there are people from America in the hotel! There are giggles, attempts at English, shaking of hands and big happy smiles. They are adorable.

Kim is making a list of Turkish words that will be useful. A list she can carry in her pocket. The Turkish language is very foreign to our eyes and ears but she wants to make sure they know she is trying, that she cares about them. Words like hello (merhaba), goodbye (hoscakalin or gule gule), please (lutfen), thank you (tesekkur ederim), I understand (anlamiyorum), yes (evet), no (hayir), how much is it? (Ne kadar). She is not afraid to use the words... the hesitant pronunciation.

At the dinner and breakfast bar/smorgasbords we try many different tastes. Sweet and savory sauces, spreads...yogurts and humus, dried fruits, eggs and breakfast casseroles, dinner dishes of meat and vegetable combinations, lots of egg plant. Curries and cumin flavors. Rice, couscous. Baklava and other honeyed baked delights. (The favorite for the Turkish kids is french fries.)

April 8

We leave Karaman to the Cappadocia province of Aksaray. Let's take the small roads! They get smaller and smaller and more remote. Rutted and puddled. Should we keep going? Turn around? The scenery is so sweet and the villages the same. Old, old. People working hard in the old traditional ways. We stop to ask. “Is this the way to Aksaray?” Of course our pronunciation is so bad the words don't register to their ears and most have no English at all. But the communication we do have is fun and heartening. Laughter and hugs. Pointing here and there. More laughter. Then just looking in each others eyes. Each person we ask points in a different direction! Okay, we'll turn around and follow our intuitive noses. The smallest road leading over a hill. “Hey, look! Here comes the woman we first talked with!” Her long skirt and headscarf whipping in the wind as she makes her way down the hill from her house. She has brought us a gift. Four large warm freshly baked buns, sort of like little breads. She puts her hands together as one would in prayer and bows and smiles. How beautiful a heart.

We are off again, passing smiling toothless men on motorbikes, donkeys laden with sticks, flocks of sheep. And our little dirt road takes us to a bigger paved one, which takes us through a town. Finally! We are on our way to the fairyland of Cappadocia, natural wondrous shapes, fantastic forms of stone and sand....houses and churches hewn into rock. Skinny passageways into the hollowed stone...up inclines and stairs. Cities carved into the underground. Fairy chimneys. Conical, pointed, columnar, mushroom-shaped. Huge boulders of hats perched precariously on natural spires. We stop at several rock hewn cities and nose around. We make our way past the tourist booths of colorful fabrics and pottery, jewelry, books. We climb into a past that is nearly unimaginable.

These are not cavemen dwellings, these are beautifully carved homes or the monasteries of monks, in stone, though worn and slightly fallen with time. The beauty of the communities can still be seen, can still be walked into. Unbelievable. Unworldly. Caused over millions of years. Three main, but now quiet, volcanoes stand in this spot...long ago they fed the materials into the area. Materials worked by rain, flooded lakes and rivers, wind. The weakest stone was swept away. The stronger stone of white tuff formed into what we see today. People have been here since prehistoric time. Antiquities and cave paintings are proof.

Ancient Cappadocia was sitting strategically in the middle of everything. Trade routes criss-crossed, even the famous Silk Road. Cultures, religions, philosophies mixed here. It was raided and invaded constantly until the citizens hid themselves amongst the stone...eventually building whole underground cities with water supplies, food storage, wineries and temples!

In the late afternoon we arrive in Selime, a town at the end of the Ihlara valley. By a stroke of good luck we choose a road to our right, which turns out to be a kind of back door to these ancient stone cliff apartments and churches. Some of the hewn rock dwellings at the end of the 'new' town are still used, some as animal shelters and some actually lived in, a broom and bucket at the door stoop. No one is here but the local people, gathering sticks and raking fields. Minding their family milk cows. Life as usual. We climb the grass hill to the first open yawning doors. We separate to explore the nooks and crannies; the arches of a church entrance, the kitchens, the bedrooms, a mill room with the mill stone leaning against a wall. I can see Kim and Peter across the way, climbing an ancient stairway. A young girl passes by me on a thin trail. She is dressed in red. Traditional clothing. Her generation of people have not come far into the future with the rest of us.

We continue down a dirt road, over a bridge. The river below is running fast, due to the heavy rains we have experienced lately. All around us are poplar trees just coming into leaf. Other trees are pruned to the quick. It is the villagers way to assure there are slim limbs, the sticks we see on carts, on backs of men and women and donkeys. They monitor the pruning so there will be a never-ending supply. I assume they use the sticks in their stoves, though it is hard to understand what kind of fire they would give. Short and crackly? Not long lived and warm to the body, I wouldn't think. We take a path toward the white tuff smoothly shaped flowing cones...leaning back in one direction, to the cliffs behind. 40 to 60 feet tall. It is beautiful. White stone. White doves above.

Kim and Peter are lucky to find a nice pension for the night. We camp in the parking lot. In the morning we take the road to the left, the sign points the way to the Selime Cathedral. After yesterdays quiet wanderings, this end of the site is set up for tourists, pay parking and entrance. I am eager to see the frescoes in the cathedral...which is hollowed out inside the rock at quite a distance up in higher levels...all part of a city and monastery, underground. Unfortunately, I am hit with 'the Revenge' (...ate too many peanuts?...Turkish food sampling at the hotel?) and have to race back down to the parking area to find a WC. I don't dare leave the safely of the van to rejoin my friends on their uphill trek. An employee is concerned for me. Offers me hot drinks. Tells me of hot spring baths near by. These Turks are lovely people.

We find quiet dirt roads again and soon enter a small town, stopping to check maps and GPS. Three traditionally clad women approach us, each with large plastic bags in hand. 'Won't we buy some dolls?' Traditional dolls about a foot high, hand sewn by them. First we say no, but change our minds. Why not? We buy a pretty one for 5 lira...and Kim practices her bargaining powers... 3 for 5 lira! I hug my doll-maker with sincerity and she makes cooing sounds of connection and love.

Soon we find ourselves in Goreme, more rock hewn establishments and an open air museum. A lovely small town. Peter finds a really nice pension, The Blue Moon. Tourist season has not yet begun so most rooms are in a state of updating. Their room is up stairs to the roof top. A charming room. This building is also rock hewn. Very old. We climb through the window to the roof terrace where Kim has set up table and chairs with table cloth and potted plants where we enjoy wine and snacks while the sun slowly sinks. I pinch myself...can I really be here? I know it is not a dream but the thrill of actually experiencing exotic far-away places sometimes hits me deeply.

In the morning Kim and I enter the door of a wonderful carpet shop. Someone with really good taste has made up this collection. We find that someone, Ruth. She is from New Zealand and is in partnership with a Turk...for 25 years. She takes the time to tell us the ins and outs of carpet selection. She does not mind that we will probably not be buying. Her carpets and killums are outstanding. Colors and designs excellent, vibrant. David and I purchase a small embroidered pillow cover for 50 Turkish lira.

And now we must hurry on to Istanbul. The week together is waning. This will be a long driving day. We eat lunch while we are moving, passing it up to the two in the front seats. A toll station on the freeway appears. Cars just pass through the booths. We follow suit. A whistle goes off, lights blink. Oh oh! We stop at the side of the freeway, beside two 'polis' officers that are not paying a bit of attention to us. David and Peter both get out to 'face the music'. Peter smiles and says a melodic 'merhaba' in his pleasant British way (hello).The officers look puzzled. 'Problem?' Our concern is conveyed. 'What is your license plate?' they ask. USA. They brush their hands together while shaking their heads back and forth with big smiles. 'No problem. Go, go!'...and they wave us on.

We stay the night in Bolu, a large unexciting working town. Winding narrow roads choked with cars both moving and parked. The search for a hotel begins. We sit and wait while Peter moves from place to place in what seems like the hotel district. Expensive! In one hotel he is turned away quite rudely before he says one word. 'No no no no no, go away....go away.' What was all that about? Certainly an unusual encounter. Peter definitely does not look Turkish but...??? He goes back to the first hotel and gets a room, paying more than he would like. 120 lira. We eat a small meal in the van, the four of us just fit in up to the table. British humor flies from Peter's wit. We try to find the means to give it back... to beat him at his own game. Impossible. Kim is a pistol, point and shoot. She is not a procrastinator. She is energizing, yet soft and caring.

Sunny morning. Peter comes by to see if we would like to go to the food market with him. We are not ready, enjoying the pastime of people-watching, slowly getting dressed and finally putting the van back to travel mode. A truck piled high with sheep skins passes by. Where is it heading? A yarn factory? Carpet wool?

When the Ladds are ready we load up and head for Istanbul. The closer we get, the busier the freeway. Minarets and multi-domes of huge mosques. Over the canal-like Bosphorus on a six lane plus sidewalks suspension bridge. Modern high-rise buildings with innovative architecture...like huge boxes stacked on each other, each a different style. A tower, large at the bottom, slowly and gracefully moving up to a smaller waistline, widening to the top, orange at the bottom melting to grey at the top. Two towers mirror each other with a lower connecting area topped by a dome. A pleasing angular all green glass building.

The freeway landscaping is wonderful. A Turkish take on plantings. All scrolly and cursive. Lots of trees, lots of plants, lots of grass. Tulips of all colors being the current favorite decorative flower. No garbage. Maintenance people in evidence... gardeners and garbage collectors.

Perhaps we should go to the 'quiet side' on the Black Sea and take commuter transportation into the city. Over and over we have heard, “Don't take your car into the city”. But the 'quiet side' proves too far away so we aim for an area at the outer edges of the European side of Istanbul that has good transportation to where we want to go. We get help from a student who is passing by. He finds us a reasonable hotel, with parking space across the street. 40 minutes to downtown on a tram. We make arrangements with him to be our guide the next day. Being a student, he tells us that he likes to sleep in. Could he meet us at 10:00? So with that he is off to his home. How much shall we pay him?

Next day...our young guide does not show. We give him an extra 20 minutes then start off by ourselves. It is a short walk to the tram stop. We buy 3 lira coins and pop them in the slot so the turn-style will let us through. It is Friday, the Islamic Holy Day, but it seems as though most folks are working. On the tram there is hardly space to breathe and it tightens as we move along. Most of the people are polite, even jovial. You begin to understand the life of this huge city. Apartments are the living norm. Cars are not. Public transportation is the way. We enjoyed it.

Our first place to visit is the Blue Mosque. It is the first thing we see as we step off the tram. Unbelievably large. Dome upon dome. Six minarets. A giant courtyard. It looks like a movie set to me. We walk to the south door. Signs tell us that Kim and I must have a head covering. We must remove our shoes. We also need to cover our arms. We must respect this place of worship.

Oh my gosh. Tens of thousands of tiles in blue designs! Circle upon circle of decorated domes. Over 250 windows circle around high above, letting in light it seems, from heaven. A photo shot makes gorgeous kaleidoscope patterns. It is hard to shoot a bad picture. This is the newer mosque built in 1603 through 17. A very young Sultan wanted to out-do the grandeur of the older Aya Sofya Mosque a short distance away.

The Grand Bazaar. We walk to it, past small shops of interest. Turkish delights in the windows...piled up in translucent blocks, looking like stained glass. All colors, many patterns, made plain or with walnuts or pistachios, in orange, almond or rose water flavored jellies (bigger and better than our slightly similar applets and cotlets). Bakery windows are enticing. It is hard to walk by specialties of baklava and helva...heavily honeyed sweets. We go into a camera shop. David needs another battery. It is not on the shelf but it will be brought here in one half hour. Good service.

We reach the gates of the Grand Bazaar. It is Friday, a Holy Day Call of Prayer reaches out. A mosque is situated just outside the bazaar. It is noon and men are flocking to ablutions, then prayer performed on the carpets outside and to listen to the Imam's wise words.

I take a picture of the gate we enter, just in case we have to ask someone for help to find our way back. It is huge. I mean HUGE! A covered low building of several kilometers of lanes, 4,000 shops. After you have gone a ways the shops begin to repeat themselves. It is a tourist place, at least where we are, but I read that somewhere in this labyrinth there are mosques, banks, police stations and restaurants. It is the heart of this city.

On our way back to the tram we stop to admire some small Turkish rugs and get into conversation with Debbie and John from Michigan. Kim leads us all to a shop she had seen earlier where the prices were lower. We all buy, getting good prices and making excellent choices. David and I now have two more pillow covers and a very old soul-filled donkey saddlebag to add to our 'collection'.

A close and tight tram ride home. Kim is bothered by a pressing body and a pair of groping hands. Is it real? Or is it the jostling of the tram? Probably the first but she does not confront him. She just protects herself. Salad in the van for dinner, after snacks and wine. Always chocolate for dessert.

Next day, breakfast on the hotel top floor and another ride into town. This time our goals are Topkapi Palace and the Aya Sofya mosque. Peter and Kim will make their way to the Spice Market.

Topkapi. I remember the movie...a slick theft of paintings through the roof. But this is something else! Work was started on this opulent palace in 1453 and was lived in by a variety of some interesting and some wild and crazy sultans until the 19^th century, when more European style palaces were favored and situated on the Bosphorus. Not liking to follow audio guides, we wander, just to feel the essence of what it might be like to live here. To find the beauty as we go. Too much history gets in my way, and I will not remember most of it, so a good read of our guide book gets us started. If we really care to know something specific we can consult it as we walk. The grounds are superb...surrounding 4 main courts: The first is where the Janissaries met. (Have you read The Janissary Tree?), the harem, the treasury and smaller stunning structures such as semi-open summer houses. Peter was most interested in the clock collection. Next to that we viewed the armor display. For me, as usual, it was the mosaics. Exquisite, everywhere I turned. In small spaces, in large spaces. Rounded and curved spaces. Fabulous tile colors... still bright.

The other thrill was the tulips! Planted to bloom during the Tulip Festival, we timed it right. One especially impressive large area presented rich red tulips dotted here and there with a single yellow one. Trees and buildings shaded some of the expanse into stripes so that some of the red was quiet and other areas shouted! Tulips were everywhere, show tulips. Remarkable. (Tulips originated from Turkey, not Holland!)

I try to understand how one human being gets to be the top dog...gets an outrageous title, like Sultan. He rules, everyone else does what he says. Even if he is a crazy man (or a crazy president?). What does it feel like to be that person? It seems not a natural, nor a good position to be in. Unless... you are kind and fair and honest and loving and strong and intelligent and moral and your feet are on the ground...and your steady clear goal is to be of help to all.

When we have saturated ourselves at Topkapi, I am needing to stop and rest awhile. I fall asleep in the grass...David critiques the photos he has taken. Then we are hungry and thirsty so we split a sandwich and drink Turkish beer. It is hot today. The Aya Sofya is 'next door' so we head for a tour of the most famous mosque.

The Aya Sofya Mosque. Started in 527 and completed in 537, 1500 years ago! Roman. The greatest church in Christendom until 1453 when the Turks conquered and turned it into a mosque. Ataturk had it turned into a museum in 1935. Unlike the bright colors of the Blue Mosque, there is a golden hue presiding. Old rich gold mixed with the light of the windows. Ethereal. The Lonely Planet guide book says this: “...the magnificent main dome soars above you. Supported by 40 massive ribs, it was constructed of special hollow bricks made in Rhodes from a unique light, porous clay; these rest on huge pillars concealed in the interior walls, which creates an impression that the dome hovers unsupported.” Genius!

This beautiful structure is filled with mosaics also, murals and portraits, stories of the time. There is ongoing restoration. Always there is a great amount of scaffolding in the dome area. It does not detract from the whole. It is a relief to know that it is important enough to receive such care, some of the supporting money comes from UNESCO.

Along one hallway there is an exhibition of beautiful Arabic calligraphy. For me the beauty of line is more easily seen because I cannot read what it says. The visual forms of the flowing graceful letters and their placement in relationship to one another is masterful and calming.

Time to head 'home'. But, we need change to buy our tokens. David gets the right idea. He'll buy a few yummy sweet things from the bakery! It is Saturday. The tram is not packed full with commuters today, but still there are no seats open. At our stop we make a detour to the grocery store, a Carrefour in the basement of a large and quite new mall. Another salad for dinner and the Ladds are invited to squish into the van for our last evening together.

Sunday, April 14

A short drive to the airport for a morning flight. A great week with Peter and Kim. In a few weeks they will be back in Seattle. When will we see them again? We must! Often!

Let's see if we can get out of Istanbul airport area. We go a little ways and then stop to make a plan. 'Whistle! Whistle! Whistle!' What is that, where is it coming from? It is the military. A soldier in a little booth hidden among foliage. 'Move on. Move on. You can't stop here.'

We move on. All the way to the Turkish/Bulgarian border. SHOCK! David has let his passport expire. We are not allowed to cross into Bulgaria. Back to the United States consulate in Istanbul for us. It will take a week to 10 days to pick up the new passport. Well, it is not all bad. More time in Istanbul and the surrounding area.

We choose to spend our first night in a harbor, of cource, in Selimpasa, a town north of Istanbul. It is a good walking town, the pleasant business streets bustling with everyday comings and goings. In the evening, just before dusk, we watch a fishing boat make its way past the breakwaters to the overnight fishing grounds. A large boat. Maybe about 6 crew. When we wake in the morning the boat is back. The fish have been picked up and maybe even delivered. The whole crew gets into pulling the nets up on to the concrete, first fed through a large high winch. The men pull and pull and methodically lay the nets over the parts first hauled in. The scene is striking, the muscled bodies tugging at the black nets and the bright yellow floats bobbing in the air. When there is a hole in the net, the line of men stops and repairs are made. Then the proceedure continues. It takes a very long time and I am sure they are sleepy tired guys.

We make our Istanbul base in the Carrefour parking lot, one of the large chain supermarkets, this one out of France. Above us is the huge fortress of the American Consulate (the embassy is in Ankara, the capital). David has made an appointment and filled out the necessary paperwork and must now make his way into the building. We drive up the hill. No room to park with the busy onslaught of passport and visa hopefuls. Some young men have turned this parking problem into a business ...people hand the boys the keys to their cars to park for them. I think for 25 tl. We find an iffy spot and I wait in the car, hasseled by the boys. There is no way we will hand them the keys to our van, with everything we own inside! Finally they give up on me, but David is back soon. A quick process for his needs...an American renewing an American passport.

The weather has turned cold after being so hot for days. Plugging in our heater at a campground seems just the thing to do. The GPS finds us a place to camp. Mocamp. Large, well kept and no one there except us. Nice lawns, orchards, gate house. Clean facilities and free clothes washer. We will be here a few days, giving us time to hang our large number of laundry items outside in the wind. A beautiful very large yellow dog lives here...and so does an energetic yellow and white cat. It is nice to be near animals again, the petting kind. One evening Peter and Henriette and their three boys arrive in their older camoflage green painted VW van. They have come from Denmark. This is sort of a test trip as there are dreams of a much longer one. A fun family atmosphere to have at our side.

April 20

Back into Istanbul after spending the morning pin-pointing the places where we want to spend time. We are lucky to be here at Tulip Festival time. The freeway side plantings are spectacular. Red tulips in a Turkish scroll pattern, tulips of all colors mixed with low flowers, such as yellow tulips and purple and white pansies in a shell pattern. Lots of Saturday traffic crawling, sometimes at a stop, but it gives us a chance to look around. Sellers of a variety of things wander between the slowed lines of cars. Some breads threaded on long sticks. Water. Bananas. Gypsies with buckets and squeegies hoping to wash your windshields for a few coins. Cars jockey for position. Never the polite 'you go first'. The good drivers can speed over three lanes if they see a possible break. David is used to it now, he even gets a kick out of it. But he has to keep his eyes open, even the ones in the back of his head. Third party insurance is the law. Small friendly beeps let you know to 'watch out'. We are in a central area of the city now, crossing a bridge over the Bosphorus. This is the fisherman's bridge. Men, women and fish poles with bait and lunch and drinks. Some stools. We enter the Beyoglu district.

We find a tiny autopark along a skinny street that flows steeply downhill, feeling lucky as these streets are not made for cars. With toes pushing at the tips of our shoes, we walk down the grade and reward ourselves with lunch, persuaded by a cute smiling young waiter catching customers off the street. I couldn't resist. Besides we were hungry. Speaking very good English he stood by us and told us his story. Once married to an English girl, he has a daughter who is six, now living in England with her mom. At 32 he lives in a one room apartment next door to the restaurant and is happy with his lot.

Okay, on our list...we want to go to the Anglican Crimean Church, a monument to those who lost lives in that war...and to the Galapa Tower, the tallest in Istanbul. It can be seen above all else in this neighborhood. This means that we must start to climb the hill, almost straight up. We find the lovely church, the grounds so beautifully English. And we find the tower. There is a very long line! This must be the thing to do on a Saturday night with your date. The tower originally was wood. It burned twice after which it was built of stone, only to be toppled by an earthquake. Built once more of stone it has managed to stand tall. We took an elevator, then sharply turning stairs, to reach the circling catwalk that was only a few feet wide...and lots of folks on it. Everyone did not read the sign that said to please walk to the right, so we were squished from oncoming traffic. Not a good feeling. The view was grand, but always I wondered if I would make it back around to the door I came out of....the only door.

We want to visit the Istanbul Modern Art Museum. So let's find a better and closer parking spot. We are quite amazed at our luck. For 20 tl ($13) we can stay 24 hours...all night! It is a very short walk to the museum. It may be the busiest thoroughfare in the city, but it is fun to feel the center of the cities noise and action. Cruise ships park here so there is a steady stream of tourists, mainly couples, the men with packs on their backs, both with sunhats on their heads. We can tell a tourist.... oh yeh, we are tourists! Lots of local young people too. This is one of the places to be on a warm night like this. Great restaurants and bars and water pipes offered. Soccer (futbul) blaring on TV (some of the women brought books). We walk to check out the 'lay of the land' before we close our blinds to the world.

Sunday we spent much of the day in the museum. It is first class. There is a great amount of attention payed to film which we really enjoyed. Ducking into dark little curtained rooms to see what artists have created. Modern art...some great, some not so great...but really, all worth taking a look at. The creative mind unbound. Later, a walk to the Galapa bridge. Small independent vendors selling fresh fish sandwiches or mussels with lemon. We stop for a drink. David tries the local Reki, small sipping stuff....add water and it turns white and a little less potent. Licorice taste. It is good to be delayed in Istanbul!

April 22

Today a short 40 minute cruise to Kadikoy from our home spot, Karakoy. Debbie, a Connecticut 'girl' (9 years in Istanbul teaching English) we met at the Crimean church has been emailing us with hints of what to do in the city. This excursion is one of her suggestions and it proved to be a gem. Our boat takes us to the Asian continent side of the city to this small district. Market streets! A laberinth of lane-like streets mostly full of 'open everyday' open-air food shops...bakeries, produce, meat shops, cheese, wine....just plain fun. And then there are restaurants to relax at once you have made your way through the market. Debbie told us to go to the lokanta (an eatery serving home style fresh food), Ciya Sofrasi. Yes we found it and the food was wonderful, the best Turkish food I had eaten. David and I shared a plate of thin homemade lamb-rice mix sausages and a dish of vegetables cooked in the perfect spices/herbs. Out of this world! This community is not so conservative as downtown Istanbul. It is a youthful happy alive place. I could live here and wander these streets daily!

Back to Karakoy, we take a tram to find the Hop On/Off bus. A two hour ride to see an overview of the city. As usual, worth it. Quite a city. Lots of parks, individual city street cleaner-men everywhere keeping this city clean, mosques of such momentous size, suspension bridges, great little neighborhoods.

April 23

Childrens' Day! Ataturk proclaimed this day. “Someday I will die and the future will be in the hands of the young.” There are many activities for them. It is their day. Some children are dressed in costume (Sultans, bunnies etc.) and some are just dressed to the max. Parents are taking them to events, out for lunch, ice cream. Balloons. It is a wonderful idea. Also we notice there are national flags everywhere. Huge flags hanging down the sides of highrise buildings. May first is 'just around the corner'. It is the celebration of the formation of the Republic of Turkey. Ataturk is still the hero. Huge pictures of him are also hung above the city streets.

David and I walk back up the hill to the Pera museum, one of the few venues open on this childrens' holiday. The small and old building is stunning. Proud of their acquisitions, a very respectful place to show them off is beautifully provided. Do any of you know the 'Turtle Painting'? SEE FLYER Great ceramic antiquities were on display. The simplicity of design and drawings of people, birds and animals is most exciting to me. I take lots of pictures through the glass of the protective cases.

Lunch by the Galata Tower. Today, more mobs are waiting to experience the terror! Then we slowly make our way down through the array of shops and graffiti filled walls. I am still mesmerized by them, finding small areas that are really worth a camera shot. People stare. “What is she taking pictures of? Graffiti! ???” We stop to talk to a woman who owns a tile painting shop. She takes the original old designs and re-creates them, using the paint that was used during that time. Quite detailed. She is good and fast. Finally, hot and tired and close to 'home', we stop for a beer and to say goodbye to a friend we have made at one of the restaurants. If David's passport is ready tomorrow we will be on our way northwest, back to the Bulgaria border.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

> Some words from Rumi...

“How good to migrate anew everday, and how beautiful to settle anew everyday.” “So many words that belong to yesterday, now we need to say new things.”

> Our Washington State license plates are still proving to bring us new friends.

> As we travel north the jackdaws have clothing changes...now they are wearing grey wooley bonnets.

> In general, the Turkish men do not have deep voices.

> An anonymous quote sent by Pastor Andy...

“You may glean knowledge by reading, but you must separate the chaff from the wheat by thinking.”

> A line from the Swan Thieves, Elizabeth Kostova.

“I told him that we couldn't be sure of anything except the power of love.”

> We see men of the Islam faith, every day, wearing beads on their wrists. Often they are quietly calling out the 99 names for Allah.

> When we were walking the market streets of Istanbul, a man loudly called out...”We have colrabi for your garden.” He was bidding for attention on the crowded street. We looked at him somewhat in question. Colrabi for the garden? He started to laugh. “Well, I am trying. I am trying my best!” I don't know what he was really selling.

> We gazed in the window of a high quality carpet and furnishing store. We gazed long enough that the owner came out to see if he could be of help. We told our adventure story, as the question was asked....'where are you from?' He certainly understood our journey. His remarks... “While you are on this planet, you live! You get it! If you come back another life you can say...I've been here. I've completed this.”

> On the advantages of having a good leader of a country...Ataturk lead this country to many successes. To the desire to move ahead. To join the modern world, but keep it's Turkish identity/flavor...no more tribal fighting. Compare to the leaders who have held countries back...Iran, Iraq, Bulgaria, Romania etc. A good leader...in America, Canada, too. They are not easy to find, nor to elect.

> There are very few grey-haired ladies in Europe. Most older women dye their hair.

> I love the relationships that men have here. Kissing, hugging, arms around shoulders as they talk or play backgammon. Young boys also. Showing affection.

April 24

Yes! David got his passport! He walked from our supermarket parking lot home base, up to the huge fortress on the hill, the American consulate. The security stops from one que/line to another is tight. First an all-over frisking, then the question, “What are you here for?”, then take off your jacket, your belt to go through scanner, and the question, “What are you here for?”... to another line where he shows his papers and the question again, “What are you here for?” He is directed to a short line. Whew! His line is for Americans wanting to renew or pick up their passports. The rest of the folks were in a full waiting room. His guess...probably Turks wanting visas to America.

We refigure our travel plans with our new time schedule to include a short visit to visit Elena's (our sister-in-law) sister in Sofia, Bulgaria, but in working this through with Elena, it appears that her sister is visiting Canada at this time so we will miss her. We choose not to go into another large city. We have nine days before we must be in Zurich, Switzerland. We can travel fairly slowly and see the countyside, monasteries and smaller cities.

Before we leave Turkey I am on a search for a pill I need to take...if you must know...Prozak. There is no need to see a doctor first. I just show my perscription from the US and I can have all I want! The perscription is a year and a half old! So I wipe out about three pharmacies and we are on our way toward the Bulgarian border.

But wait, before we can go any further, a Turkish soldier pulls us over. He asks to see our passports but before we get them out he says, “Never mind, no problem. I like America.” We answer “Goodbye! We love Turkey” and we are on our way once more to the Bulgarian border, excited for new adventure. But wait! We show passports leaving the Turkish border and there is a problem with David's brand new passport. He is called into the border police office...the number of officers gets larger as they try to figure it all out, the officer rank getting higher and higher. They discuss and discuss but we do not understand what they are saying. Again, too many generals, too little organization. David is starting to get 'hopping' mad, his patience running out, when finally the problem is solved when we ask them to look at a small white piece of paper inside the passport. It appears that he went in and out of Greece South Cyprus, without a passport.

Ahh, but here is what really happens on Cyprus. Because North Cyprus, The Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus, is not recognized as a ligitimate country, folks traveling over into the south Greek side (which is EU), find that the authorities will not stamp passports...you are entering from an illegal occupied country...so instead, they stamp a piece of paper which you keep inside your passport. The Turkish border at Bulgaria seemed unaware of this proceedure so when we pointed it out...everything changed. “Ah, yes, you can go on.” The language difference was not helpful...we could have solved the mystery much quicker. We parted with smiles and handshakes.

At the Bulgarian border, the officer said, “Why would you want to vacation in a crazy country like this?”

We are experiencing Spring all over again, over and over it travels with us as we move Northwest. Spring green grass, lacey new tree leaves and flowering fruit trees. Mountain ranges are on both sides of our valley road...E80 is the main highway, going from country to country. This road is good. Bulgaria is struggling to bring roads up to EU standards. Small villages and larger towns interspersed. Quite lovely. We drive a few hours to Plovdiv. What are the rules for parking overnight in this country? We ask at a supermarket. “No problem”, and he shows us the best place.

The alphabet again is somewhat like Greek. There is no guessing at words when we don't know the sounds. We take some time to read about the country we are passing through and make a plan. Of course, as we suspected, the Turkcell account we are tied to does not work in Bulgaria so we start our day, back at our old haunt, McDonald's! We need to let our friends in Zurich know when they can expect to see us at their door.

Plovdiv prooves to be just the perfect town to stop in. Small and walkable. I had expected to find sad, fallen towns in Bulgaria. Plovdiv is light hearted. A long main street has been turned into a pedestrian promenade and everyone is out shopping (or at least, looking) in the smart and modern shops. Above the ground floor facades are tall lovely buildings from another era. Parks for resting. Fountains. The day is warm. The Romans have early on established a city here. Some of it has been uncovered and is easy to see and experience as it seems to melt into todays city, like pieces of historical art/architecture. Parts, like a quarter of the ampitheater is still used for concerts and lectures. Beside this, there is a model which shows the rest of this ruin...a very large, long oblong structure still underground...a race track, other sport events...an ancient stadium. The old city is a short uphill walk. We are looking for art galleries as the guide book says there are many here. There are a few small very good ones showing local artists. A much larger building has been bought for a museum/gallery and restaurant. When sold, the building came with a very large collection of paintings. In general, they are not the best of choice...but a few are really worth seeing...specifically one full portrait of a woman, painted by a teenage woman with such competence. An excellent large painting. The unfortunate thing is that when she married, her husband did not believe in his wife spending her time painting and she did not continue her wonderful work.

We are being escorted through the rooms by a fellow who is in charge of this collection. He tells us that he does not really know art very well. Most of the paintings are for sale so he shows those interested though the rooms. He is fun and enthusiastic, not only about his job, but also the history of Bulgaria and how it is evolving. “Bulgaria has been under Communism, then Socialism, then Democracy. As a result we don't know who we are or who we would like to be!”

April 26

The cuckoo is in full voice this morning, sounding exactly like the clocks. A very large lizzard scurries over a rock, but stops long enough for us to get a good look. Over one foot long, it's head is turquoise to a yellow-green body and on to a red-brown tail. Nicely colorful.

A young women passes by on a loaded bike. It looks like she has everything she needs for a long journey, the largest being a big dry bag like we use for kayaking. A red and white flag sticks into the road a bit, giving the car and truck traffic some warning and also letting everyone know that she is from Poland. We wish that she had stopped for a moment so that we could hear her story. One can see that she has one to tell. Fortunately for us we pass by her later and ask if she would stop. She is in her ninth month of bicycling from Poland to India and back, with a few other women...their trip is called Eurazja 2012. She is a teacher in Poland, and she is traveling in her dream! Her goal now is to surprise her mother on Mothers' Day which is one month away. If you are interested in more, her blog address is: http://skorpionynarowerach.blogspot.com She is a beautiful person inside and out.

We are heading toward Rilla Monastery. Wild cherry is at its very peak, bursting to its fullest beauty. Snowy big mountains show above a lake and forested hills. Folks are at lakeside fishing. 'The best things in life are free'. Tribal people still live and wander in Bulgaria. We get glimpses as we move along. Meandering streams are many...and so are pot holes! The roads are like a patchwork quilt, patched together in random shapes, different colors...well, ranges from black to grey. Bare ski runs on mountainsides and hills. Cows with herders. Free range horses. We stop for petrol. The young attendant speaks perfect English. We ask where he learned to speak it so well. “Movies and HipHop music.” He asks us how we like Bulgaria. This is a question often asked to outsiders here. He tells us, “We have beautiful nature.” We have to agree. “I am nervous right now, speaking English to you.”

The flag of Bulgaria waves in many places, patriotic colors from the top, white / green /red. Lilacs are out. Makes us think of Spokane, the 'Lilac City'. Bird song, loud and often and varied. Makes our hearts soar and souls happy. A picnic lunch at a high point, on a plateau, then down to the town we are looking for, Rilla. It is not evident where the monastery might be. A school boy is sitting outside the grocery store. We ask if he knows the way. After unsuccessfully trying to explain he asks, “Can I get into your car to show you, it is up the hill.” How fun to have him with us, his friends on the road are pointing at him and giggling. He takes us to the fine village Orthodox church thinking that is what we want. Then the light goes on. “Oh, my fault!” ...and puts us in the right direction. “Just don't get off that road and you will reach it.” A handshake and a big smile, his teeth in braces, an uncommon sight in these villages.

We start out. Back down into town and then turn onto the road we are not to get off of. Instead of a sign to the monastery, there is one gently urging us...'Let us be aware of the messages of the forest'. Horses with their colts are on the road coming down out of the hills. A white mare is not afraid. She siddles over and after a few sniffs, sticks her head in the window. We have one carrot left and she gets it, pulling it into her mouth then chomping and chewing the tasty treat until it's gone. And cows on the road at the next turn. All of these animals free to wander. Seems a lovely life.

The monastery is a big surprise. It is unusually kept up. Still occupied by monks, it gets great care. Inside the big gate, which we walk through, there is a large common area. We cross a small bridge into it, over a fast flowing stream, and in front of us, across the big courtyard is the church. The biggest surprise is that everything is beautifully painted! Lovely wood buildings.