AlSo: The Rock

In the morning we walked to St. Peter’s Church after a futile attempt to get breakfast at a doner shop (what were three vegetarians thinking trying to get food at a place with roasting, rotating chickens displayed in the window? Hubris). Waiting for the gates to open, we talked to one of the gatekeepers who suggested we scramble up the rocks above the church. We were on the verge of doing so when a distinct American accented voice asked where we were from. He is an archaeological student from Texas who had a great deal to say about the history of Antioch, as Antakya is often referred to, and the area [see emails to mom and Steve]. One fellow showed us around some of the areas. I’ve learned that I have a little disgruntlement with the direction “down”, perhaps owing in part to my glasses’ strange relationship to depth perception but assuredly due to my own clumsiness. Needless to say, both Justin and Corey scrambled higher than me. We wheeled back to town for brunch of, oh yes you guessed it, hummus, then the Archaeological Museum. Turkey has so much history that they just throw it around, that’s what we learned at the museum. The Museum was filled with amazing tiled mosaics with Greek and Roman references, coins of most Roman and Ottoman rulers (Claudius, Marcus Aurellius, and Suleyman the Great for the heck of it). Chinese toiurists came through at one point, and I got to translate “please don’t use you flash” into Mandarin for the security guard. In the back courtyard, we got to check out ancient sarcophagi used as planters, the watering hose propped up against a rendering of, was it Cupid?, on the side of a sarcophagus. Hightailed it back to the hotel to pick up our stuff, whiz through the Bazaar to pick up some to-go surk (a cheese with added spices) and pide for the ride and got on the bus to Mardin. Long, LONG ride.

AlSo: Antakya or Bust

We got ourselves to the bus station, our old friend, rather early, determined to get on a bus in the general direction we wanted to go even if it meant body-slamming ourselves onto a coach. Woo hoo! We got on board the bus to Nevsehir to a bus to Adana from which we were to make a transfer to an Antakya-bound coach. We got to Adana and hit a snag – no one knew what to do with us, and the Nevsehir guy there got us onto another carrier’s oversold bus. Lots of stools in the aisles. We took a dolmus to the city center conducted by a guy who spoke German. What is it with people speaking German in this part of Tukey? We walked around the Bazaar until we found the hotel for which we were looking. Along the way, we spied a number of bike retail and repair shops, and a lot of folks were using it as a means of cargo and personal transport. Two cheeky kids came to practice their English with us, and an adorable fruit seller asked us why were here and helped us get our bearings. We complimented them on their rides and then checked into a nice and cheap serviceable hotel that the LP described as “scary”. Whatever. Went back to the fruit area and into the Bazaar which was HUGE! Seriously, it went on forever. We learned later that St. Peter used to wander around this Bazaar as it was the Jewish Quarter. That’s word on the street, anyway. Found dinner and the best hummus ever, which Antakya is known for. Great view of the city on the terrace, which looks for all intents and purposes like an Asian city. Between the bikes and the hummus, I swear I could live here.

AlSo: Ilhara Is Pronounced “Urgup”

Justin, Corey and I got up earlier than prudence would dictate in the hopes of hiking in Ilhara Valley, which is supposed to be just beautiful. Our hopes were dashed in Nevsehir, however, when we learned that the buses and ticket prices were daunting enough for us to change tacks. Instead we decided to go to Urgup. On the bus, off the bus, nice breakfast and tea, then a stroll through the old city. There was supposed to be an underground city in Urgup, as well, but the artist whom we asked about it later hadn’t heard of it. What we did find in scrambling around the area was a bunch of untended, uninhabited and fascinating pidgeon houses which we were more than content to explore for some goodly time. It was perhaps the highlight of Cappadoccia! Thus emboldened, we walked on and found a winery where we had a tour and wine-tasting. The tender has been in the wine industry for over 12 years and told us that Urgup’s terrain, weather, and volcanic soil create an optimal environment for wine-growing. I’ll drink to that! On the way back down the road, we met up with a Dutch lady who asked what sights there were in the area. She does paintings of Turkish carpet designs. Got back just in time to have a beer and meet a fellow named John from Hong Kong. He and Corey actively considered making an Iraq border run in a few days. We made our way to the bus stop only to learn that the “bus cancelled”, according to the fellow whom I will refer to as Mr. Suha through the person whom he had asked to translate from Nevsehir Bus Company next door. Mr. Suha offered to either exchange our tickets for the next morning and set us up in a hotel for the night or give our money back. Corey (since Mr. Suha wouldn’t talk to me as I was a woman and only stooped to make grunting noises in my general direction when conversation seemed unavoidable) checked to see if there were any buses with any vacancy going anywhere on our list of places to go. No, no and no. then our “cancelled” bus showed up. Hmmmm. That’s interesting. Mr. Suha made some indication that it wasn’t our bus. But it had our destination on it from the same company with whom we had booked at the same time it was supposed to come. Double hmmmm. we finally booked passage with the very helpful and kind fellow from Nevsehir for Antakya the next morning. However, when we asked about getting the hostel from Mr. Suha, he actually laughed in Corey’s face and said we had nullified the offer when we booked with Nevsehir. Who he had told us was his brother and whom he had employed as our translator. That Mr. Suha. What a jerk! So the wonderful fellow from Nevsehir got us a 3-for-2 deal at the HI Shoestring Hostel run by Jesus. Everything turned out well, and we crossed our fingers about the ticket the next morning.

AlSo: Going Underground

Had breakfast on the terrace with Justin, who it turns out used to work at World Resources Institute in Washington, DC (small world) before leaving in favor of traveling and studying in India. We took a bust to Nevsehir and then another bus to Derinkuyu which boasts one of the most extensive open underground cities. It is seven layers deep and positively labyrinthian. They were used by residents in times of threats of invasion and had all amenities needed for mid-term living (the major issue being sewage which I couldn’t see any system for the long-term disposal of). The network we saw was actually only a small part of an even greater underground network. And what did the Lonely Planet call it? You guessed it – “troglodytic”. Is this even a word? After Corey and Justin had run through and explored every nook and cranny of the underground city (“yeralti sehri” in Turkish in case you were wondering), we found a leaf-canopied courtyard with older men drinking tea and playing backgammon. We drank tea and then migrated to a pide place that had GREAT pide. We wound our way back to Goreme the way we had come and engaged in some “underground” experiences of our own, specifically drinking red wine from the Conference farewell party 5 days before. I cleaned my shoes like the dickens for which everyone, particularly Ali, was grateful. Sunset was spent on the bluff with gorgeous panoramic views of the city and paragliders. Dinner was with the whole gang, all of whom save Justin, Corey and myself were heading to Antalya that evening. Audra et al had staked out a restaurant for their final Goreme meal which turned out to have everything BUT what they wanted. Delicious, though. Joke told by a passing Turkish guy: “What smokes more than a Turk? Two Turks.” True that. Everyone trundled en masse to the train station where they departed and we got tickets to Antakya the next day. As we were waiting with the others for their bus to come, all of the lights went off in the city and candles quickly taken out. Justin and my hopes for ice cream were dashed once again. We trekked back to the hostel in the dark and were contemplating going up to the bluff but reconsidered when we saw so many tourists heading that way with whoops and liquor. It was so very beautiful and peaceful on the terrace, though!

AlSo: Troglodytes?

In addition to the British/Bengali dup, we met a fellow named Justin from America in the parking lot as we gazed balefully at the parking lot, willing transport to a hostel to come. We got one to Traveller’s Cave and a muesli breakfast where we met two Australians, Nat and Ali, and yet another American named Audra. Many of the houses and hostels in Cappaoccia, particularly in Goreme, are located inside caves and are quite cool, a blessing with the heat. We collectively took exception to the Lonely Planet’s constant reference to cave dwelling as “a troglodyte lifestyle”. Letters to the Editor are planned for certain. Everyone save the three new ladies had a nap, then we set out to see the Open Air Museum. It turned out to be an amazing enclave of early Christian shrined and churches set in the stone pillars typical of Cappadoccia. Some of the cave paintings were still intact, even after it was occupied by Muslims. We mused that, had the pedigree and occupation been reversed, the Christians of the time wouldn’t have allowed Islamic artwork to survive. We walked back in a heat that was keen on making itself known and found a taxi who was willing to take us to Pasabag to check out the fairy chimneys. The taxi driver was absolutely wonderful and took us back to Goreme via a beautiful canyon-like bowl that he called Lava Lake. Apparently the precipice of Lava Lake is also where locals go to drink and kibitz and bring their girlfriends. we had dinner at the hostel and heard about Audra, Nat and Ali’s day tour from which they had just come and which had left them famished. The fact that the hostel forgot their food order didn’t exactly help. Back to the room, my shoes stank so badly that even Ali had to admit they could use a wash, and I put them in a bag as a conciliatory gesture.

AlSo: Hamami

Found Tijo in the morning and conducted him to wake Corey up, who said he opened his eyes only to see a floating Tijo head. Breakfast with Corey, Sylvia and Tijo covered talks about Tijos bike tours, life before and after the war, nepotism and corruption and unemployment. Randy joined us for breakfast. Met with Elly and talked about next steps for the Conference next year. I think the main question is one of tack – to make TCC08 a scrappy grassroots Conference or a more professional one. Personally, I think that creating a more extensive framework for involvement with a number of levels would be best, and to get engineering firms and other municipalities on board it needs a little more prep and follow-through. This is just me talking, of course (because hey, it’s my blog!). I’ve promised to draft a Sponsorship Coordinator Intern description and have, with Elly’s kind suggestion, committed to acting as Scholarship Coordinator. Still need to creat a description for that, of course. Everyone will create a powerpoint to follow up with potential sponsors and future stakeholders. We adjourned to the Bazaar where Elly bought a bunch of swell-smelling spices, and a vendor called me “Baby” which kind of killed the deal. Elly sallied forth in search of other pursuits while Corey and I meandered some more and dabbled into the Grand Bazaar which at the time was overrun with cruise tourists. Lunch at a random restaurant with a hilarious waiter from Batman. We met Markus at the Grand Bazaar and rather quickly quit it in favor of a hamami which we found nearby. It was 35 lira for a wash and full massage, which was about half of what we were quoted by others. I had the women’s side all to myself but was unsure as to how to proceed (haven’t been in many bathhouses that were not completely self-serve). A lady named Nagila invited me to rinse off which I did, but then she wandered off. I went into the sauna for a while and came back out. No Nagila. Rinsed again and went abck in the sauna. No Nagila. Finally went to ask if she had soap (“sabo var mi?”), and she replied “Var” but didn’t offer anything else. Back to the sauna. Little did I know that the answer was to sit on the big stone slab within eyeshot. Nagila came in, and what followed turned out to be “Loofah and Language”, where I learned (and have since forgotten) the parts of the body in Turkish. Back into the sauna and came out to find Nagila washing, and I rinsed as well. She held out a towel, and I confusedly made to wash myself with it until she indicated that I should get her back. I ended up giving her a back massage like she had given me which we both had a good time with. Left her with a picture of body parts in English and kibitzed about her family of which she has two children, one grandchild and a husband who is her second after the first died. A fond farewell and met up with Markus and Corey outside who had befriended a few Frenchmen. We swapped stories, and Corey remarked that few would get a massage at a hamami only to give one back to the masseuse. Aww schucks. We sauntered back to the Sultan Hostel, had a nargile, and talked about Markus’ work as an architect. Elly joined us, and we thought it would be very cool if we could create an exhibition of carfree places and carfree housing structures for the conference. Then it was time for Corey and I to head to Goreme in Cappadoccia by bus. Met up with two young English ladies named Sourma and Regina on the bus who were a total riot!

AlSo: Carfree Withdrawals

breakfast with Rick and plans to meet Ethem Sat. or Sun. Meghan, Tamar, Corey and I went to a bookshop and then to tea. Poor Corey was the only one who didn’t either get his ass grabbed or a phone number from the tea waiter. We met Markus et al on the ferry and had as productive a meeting as one can on crowded public transportation. We deboarded at the first island and continued our meeting at the waterfront in as productive a manner as a waterfront meeting can be. Swimming, then talking about Steering Committee, then Milan and Justin had to leave on the next Istanbul-bound ferry. Randy, Markus, Corey And I rambled around the island, then Corey and I headed back. We saw the Aya Sofia, Blue Mosque and a 3500 year old stone. Wow! To all of them. Met folks for dinner at Sultan Hostel for a great talk and a fond farewell to Joroen. Back on the tram, but the ferry was closed even though it was before 10:00. walked to the bridge to catch a bus. Galata Bridge closed (for construction). Walked across the bridge and asked for directions in French of a Turkish fellow who was very accommodating but could see only a taxi as a possibility, the expense for which we couldn’t countenance. We walked to the next bus stop towards Besiktas. A wedding party had pretty well taken over the space where the bus stop should be (and how can this possibly be legal?). walked to the next stop and finally got a bus to Kadikoy. When we got there, the whole main street was cordoned off by police barricade. The total time home was over 2 hours. Go go gadget mobility.