friends

We've now lived here in the DC area for over a year, and with the exception of Ryry (whom we met back at BYU) I'm sad and a little ashamed to admit that we still have few people we'd really call "friends." Plenty of acquaintances, surely, but no besties in the making. There have been a few "trial" friends: that quirky, earthy couple who wanted to live in a van, the over eager super talkative wife with the silent husband, the cool girl with the big hair and cycler husband with the obnoxious friends, the really nice couple we think we'd really like but are always in high demand with everyone else. I thought it was just us, that we were somehow lacking in personality or social savviness, or that we were really really picky about who we choose as friends.

But then I read this article and I felt a little validated and a lot more discouraged. Apparently we've reached that period in life where making friends, real friends, is pretty damn hard. Not only do you have to try to match up a husband and a wife with another husband and wife (which is far harder than you might think between me and T-rav), but you also have to have 3 things: "proximity, repeated, unplanned interactions; and a setting that encourages people to let their guard down and confide in each other." A HA! So that's why we have no friends.

So what to do about it? I've considered having monthly house parties, with the secret motive of screening for bosom friends throughout the evening, but sometimes that sounds rather exhausting. . We go to work and church activities, but making friends in college wasn't hard (probably because we had those 3 points mentioned above), and I don't really want it to be hard now. I think I've become a little socially lazy...and I'm tired of superficial social interactions.

The end result of all this is T-rav and I have gotten even better at hanging out together, I've read a lot of books, and we've watched probably one too many television series on netflix. I miss my real friends more with every failed friend date. We're happy here, but sometimes we're a little lonely.

random Turkey thoughts

A few other random tidbits and then I promise to stop talking about Turkey. Unless you ask me about it, in which case, I'd love to prattle on. 

Turks are probably the friendliest people I've ever visited. They were helpful, warm, and inviting. I did get sick of seeing men everywhere and often found myself wondering where the women were...I'd never really thought about that until the women are missing and then I missed them. 

I hate being an obvious tourist even when I am. I'm usually loathe to reveal my camera and pose for pictures because I don't want the locals to so easily spot me as a foreigner. But since I obviously stuck out as not even a little bit Turkish, I decided to embrace my tourist status. And it was a rather refreshing...I'm not saying I'd do the same in Norway or Spain or elsewhere, but in Turkey it worked. 

We didn't encounter many Americans in our travels, and most Turks assumed we were Europeans (more specifically Germans for me and Zillah...Phin a Kiwi?). I think it was partially because they don't see as many Americans as Europeans, but I like to think that maybe we didn't stick out as anything in particular. I prefer anonymity when I travel. 

The public bathrooms in Turkey are plentiful and generally quite clean. Some charge, some don't, and I was only left without toilet paper once (luckily I carried some with me everywhere). However, there are often more "squatter" toilets than upright ones. I got really good at squatting and might have even perfected my technique. ;) 

If you want to buy a rug, don't even think about in Istanbul or Kusadasi. They're way way expnsive. Selcuk seemed like it had reasonable prices, and they were even cheaper in Bergama (though I think Bergama had more of the tribal-esque rugs rather than the Persian style, so it depends on what your preference is, I suppose). 

Never go to Turkey in June or any other month near the summer. I'm thinking January might be nice. 


The fantastic sites and scenery aside, it was marvelous to be with my bosom friends, 24/day for 13 days straight. After years and years of dreaming about taking a trip when we graduated, when we finished our grad degress, when we have money...we actually managed to pull it off. Phin, Zillah, M: You are the best and I love you! 

Would I go to Turkey again? Definitely. There's still an entire half of the country to explore. I'm thinking of starting on the eastern border and ending in Cappadocia or maybe Patara next time...

Turkey Part 3

Days 8-10: Patara
After a much longer ride than we expected in the crowded, under air-conditioned Dolmus (there were lots of people hopping on and off which made it take foreevvvver), we finally arrived in Patara. The owners of the hostel (St. Nicholas Pension- as the name might imply, Patara is the birthplace of our St. Nicholas) were eagerly waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs and quickly herded us in, offered us tea, and showed us to our lovely rooms. We freshened up a bit and then dragged ourselves back out the door to see some ruins before they closed for the day. The area around Patara was once a major Lycian port, but now it's mostly used as farm land-notice the cows grazing around the well in the midst of all the rubble- and provides the few tourists who go there charming scenery along the mile down to the beach. In typical un-American fashion, these ruins are not regulated even a little, so you can tromp around to your heart's content. It was great fun. 

Patara beach is 18 kilometers long and generally has only a handful of people scattered about. We paid a few lira to rent beach chairs and sit under an umbrella, and when it started to rain (of course the only time it rained was the one day we went to the beach), we climbed up the rock outcropping (bottom left) for a view of the cobalt blue water on one side and turquoise on the other. Naturally, we got quite sunburned (rotten non-waterproof sunscreen that I applied many times to no avail), which was especially sad because it prevented us from being able/having a desire to go to a Turkish bath for a scrub down and massage. Ah well. Next time.

Because of the bus schedule and because phin wasn't feeling well and really because we really loved Patara, we decided to stay an extra day here. This was fantastic especially because it gave us more time to go to a wonderful little restaurant that mostly served Gözleme, a kind of Turkish pastry/pancake deliciousness. Zillah and I had been on our first night for smoothies but couldn't resist the restaurateur's charm and agreed to try a gözleme- apricot, which really meant sweet heaven's nectar. We begged M and Phin to go there for dinner the next day for an assortment of savory and sweet (as soon as Phin has time to send us some pictures, I'll show you how the chef made the pancakes. Over an open flame). I wish I could eat one right now...one chocolate honey and one apricot. Oh the honey. I almost forgot to mention how amazing the honey was in Patara. I would have loved to have taken home a bucket of it, but it might have weighed down my bag a little too much, not to mention what the Customs people would have said...but it was so. dang. good.


Days 10/11: Selcuk (Ephesus)
Leaving Patara, we caught our next bus just like native Turks by standing at a hot dusty intersection. We arrived in Selcuk a bit late to gain entry into anything, but we bopped around town to see the lay of the land and peeked into an simple old mosque with a lovely courtyard. Although I was dressed inappropriately for a mosque visit--my legs were showing brazenly--there were several scarves at the entrance, so I wrapped myself up like a mummy and stepped inside. It was a much more intimate feeling mosque, the kind you actually might want to pray in rather than visit only for the beautiful interior. 

The next day we spent the morning in Ephesus. I was delighted to see a few areas I hadn't seen the year before when I came with my parents and it was nice to have the freedom to wander around without a guide. There were cats everywhere. Actually, there were cats all over Turkey. And most of them didn't look too mangy either.  

After Ephesus, we headed back to Selcuk for a few hours to see the ruins of the Basilica of St. John where, as you might guess, St. John is buried...IF he's actually dead, that is. Is he? Is he not? Then M went off to the Ephesus museum to see, I believe, the well-endowed Artemis, while Phin, Zillah, and I did some shopping for some odds and ends, and, of course, more food. Zillah ended the day with the purchase of a small but exquisite rug, and Phin finally found herself a dagger. 


Days 11/12: Bergama (Pergamon)
Bergama is a less visited town, evidenced first of all by the shopkeepers' excitement at seeing real live tourists. It was also a very manly town- maybe it was because we were there on a Saturday/Sunday, but we hardly saw a single Turkish woman the whole time. Men, men, everywhere, and not a woman to be seen. And the men stared. And stared. AND STARED to the point where I was ready to blurt something very rude  if they dared say a word to me. Luckily we left for Izmir before that happened. Anyway, the purpose of going to Bergama was to see the ruins of the ancient Greek city of Pergamum. What's left of it is located on top of a fairly steep hill, so the Turks built a nice little tram system to take you up and down. We thought about walking down rather than taking the tram, but a few hours in the beating sun changed our minds. M was in heaven when we finally found the remnants of the Altar of Zeus for her. 

On the evening we stayed in Bergama, Phin finally spotted some fantastic little ceramic balls that she had been looking for, and so we stopped into a little shop thinking we'd grab some and go...but we didn't leave for well over an hour. The shop keeper was exceedingly happy to have customers, and even more delighted that we were Americans. He offered us cup after cup of tea and we sat on his couch and chatted about his travels around Italy, his family living overseas (he called his son in North Carolina to see if it was close enough to DC that I could go visit), and how he met and married his wife. It was a lovely experience.


Before leaving Bergama, we visited the ruins of the Red Basilica, ate some baklava (which we did, to the point of nausea), and saw the Bergama Museum that houses bits of the ruins from Pergamom and has a fairly large (though not life-sized, to M's disappointment) replica of the Altar of Zeus. Then it was back to the bus station for a short ride to Izmir to catch a flight back to Istanbul and then back home. And that was it.

Turkey Part 2

Days 5-7: Cappadocia
Leaving Istanbul, we caught a very early flight to Kayseri, which is the closest city to the region known as Cappadocia. If you ever go to Turkey, you simply must take the time to go here. It's like nothing you've ever seen. Created by a volcano that erupted thousands of years ago, the landscape looks like little phallic blobs of rocks sploosomed out of a tube (kind of like when I try frosting a cake). And if that isn't reason enough to visit, Byzantine monks moved in and cut churches and homes into the rocks, which means you can have a hiking adventure while enjoying mosaics and frescoes. 

People used to live in the caves in Cappadocia until as recently as the 60s. The photo below was taken from a little village on a hillside that finally moved down to the valley after an earthquake in 1967 (I think). Nowadays, the Turks don't live in the caves, but they make a serious profit off the tourists who want a cave experience. We were a little too poor this trip to stay in a cave hotel, but our hostel more than made up for it. I would have stayed there a week just to stay at Kose Pension longer. Not only was it almost ridiculously cheap, but the rooms were spotless and well decorated-there are lovely murals scattered throughout the hostel-the food is delicious, and the roof-top dorm room is one of the coolest places I've ever slept. I highly highly recommend it. 

Our first day in Cappadocia was a little crazy, starting with the shuttle not arriving at the airport to take us the 45 minutes to Goreme, where we were sleeping. We got lucky and caught a ride with a guy who claimed to also be a tour guide...so we were suckered into paying a little more than we should have for a tour of the towns throughout Cappadocia (it's really difficult to get around Capp on public transportation, making either a guide or car/scooter rental almost imperative). His English was actually almost non-existent and it turned out that he didn't really know (or couldn't communicate) much of anything about the places we visited, which made him really irritating. Good thing we had Lonely Planet to help us out. I was really grumpy with the whole situation the longer we were stuck with him. Thankfully Zillah got rid of him while I was in the bathroom at the Goreme Open-Air Museum (thanks about it!). We nicknamed him "the Blemish" or better yet, "the Putrescence." But, as M reminded me, we would never have met Mehmet without the driving services of The Blemish. Mehmet is a local who lives in the town pictured above (I think). He owns a gift shop, hotel, restaurant, half the town, etc. When he saw us traipsing around on some old cave dwellings above his shop, he ran up the hill and offered to show us around, since, naturally, he grew up playing around those cliffs and caves. He was great and we were all delighted to have met him. 

From our day with the Blemsh, pictured below from left: a "castle" in Uchisar; the Hair Museum in Avanos with over 16,000 dusty, cobweb infested samples of women's hair. Definitely creepy, but Zillah and I both added our own locks to the nastiness; a detail from one of the many little churches in one of the caves...I can't recall which one; the exterior of one of the churches in the Goreme Open Air Museum.

The second full day we spent on an official tour of the area, which seemed a little pricey (90 TL but no better deals were to be found since the tour groups standardize their prices each new season), but was actually well worth it since it included transportation, entry fees, a knowledgeable tour guide, and a huge lunch. And we met a lovely retired Australian couple, a seriously extroverted American who told us his life story (complete with details I wouldn't tell some of my friends) within 3 hours, and an Italian family with an adorable 3-year-old.  We went to the underground city in Derinkuyu (too dark for my level of photo skills), which was at times a bit claustrophobic and unnerving as it was up to 100 meters below ground- all that rock pressing down on you- but really interesting to see how and where people lived hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Underground. They even had a baptistery! Then we headed to Ilhara Valley for a hike and lunch. The best part of the valley was all the little churches nestled up in the cliffs. After lunch, more cave cities, this time aboveground.

Day 7: Konya
I was loathe to leave Cappadocia, but we had other places to see, so we hopped on a bus and made our way south to Konya, known for little aside from Rumi (a famous Persian poet) and his Whirling Dervishes. Being the wrong time of year, we weren't able to see a dervish, but we did see Rumi's tomb, some beautiful Korans, and a case holding some of the Prophet Mohammed's beard hairs (I forgot to mention that at Topkapi Palace in Istanbul, we saw Moses' staff. Yes, the very one, so they say). It's a fairly sacred spot for many Muslims, so it was no surprise that we were surrounded by throngs of tourists mingled with Muslim pilgrims during the hour or so we had there. Pictured below: the Mevlana Museum (Rumi's shrine). The teal tower is right above where Rumi is buried. Please also note the Turk pants mentioned in my previous post. We wore them particularly because we knew that Konya was a pretty conservative place and our pants were long and shapeless versus tight jeans or shorts. But after being stared at incessantly and noting that none of the girls our age were wearing such attire (jeans and t-shirts for them), I started to wonder if our pants were too touristy? Then I saw the old ladies and came to the conclusion that maybe only tourists and old Turkish ladies wear our loose gypsy pants. Ah well. 

And then we were back on a bus and off to Antalya to sleep for the night and hopefully let Phin recover a bit from whatever it was that was making her ankles and feet swell up like balloons.


Day 7/8: Antalya
By the time we got to our hostel in Antalya, Phin was definitely not feeling well. After we dragged a confession out of her (she didn't complain at all), we teased her into submission, made her put up her feet, and decided it was time for a rest day. The only problem was that Antalya wasn't really our ideal place for a rest. Although a nice enough city, it's more of a resort town for the Europeans (and therefore on a resort type of budget) with a few things we wanted to see, but nothing major. So early in the morning, M, Zillah and I trekked out on the town for a peep at Hadrian's Gate and the Old Roman Harbor and then we were off again, this time on a minibus called a "Dolmus" to rest in the teeny beach town of Patara. 

Turkey Part 1

Hello friends! I'm warning you now that this is going to be a long long post followed by another really long post. So in case you're not interested in actually reading all I have to say (this is more for me to remember things we did/saw), it's quite alright for you to skim through the smattering of pictures. 

Day 1: Amsterdam

The journey to Turkey began with a planned 12-hour layover in Amsterdam. After going way too far on the train (the suburbs were lovely), we finally found our way to Amsterdam Central. We had time and strength for only two museums: Anne Frank's House and the Rijksmuseum. Although we didn't know it until we got there, it just so happened to be Anne Frank's birthday, making it 70 years since Anne received her diary. She would have been only 83. I always think of her as quite a bit older than my grandparents, but she really wasn't. Near the end of the museum they had some heart-wrenching interviews with her father. I think one of the hardest things for him was reading the diary and realizing that he didn't ever fully know or understand his daughter until after she was gone....something to think about when I have kids.

The Rijksmusem was fabulous, at least the parts that weren't under construction (can I just say that it's really irksome to pay full entry fee when half of the museum is closed down). I wanted to sit and stare at some of my favorite Vermeers and Rembrandts for hours, but alas, by about midway through, I was struggling to keep my eyes open. An art museum is not a good place to go when you haven't slept in 2 nights. So although we had a few more hours to kill, we went back to the airport early and stuffed our faces full of food until our next flight. 

Being in Amsterdam for only a few hours was a little like torture. They Dutch were so...so cool. And their bikes were all chic with their lack of gears and handle brakes. I'm desperate to go back and actually see things.

Days 2-5: Istanbul

Where to start with Istanbul....I'd heard it said that Istanbul is like no other city in the world, and it really isn't. It felt European and 3rd World and Middle Eastern and modern all at the same time. As I stepped off the plane, the air smelled like spices (and since it was 2 am, it also smelled a little like urine). It was packed full of people all the time, even at 3 am. From my short 2 weeks in Turkey, I have deduced that Turks never get up before 9 am, but also never go to sleep til way past midnight. 

The short list of things we did/saw in Istanbul: Haggia Sophia (on left above-note the haziness), Blue Mosque, the Hippodrome, Topkapi Palace (fireplace from the Harem, below, middle. I wish my whole house looked like this), Istanbul Archeology Museums, Galata Tower, Basilica Cistern (below, left), Suleymaniye Mosque (my favorite, on right above), the Bosphorus Straight by ferry, Cora Church (below, right), Fethiye Mosque, Ecumenical Patriarchate (the "headquarters" of the Greek Orthodox Church), the Grand Bazaar, the Spice Bazzar...and I think that's it. 

As you might imagine, I was in heaven in the Spice Bazaar. It took all my self-control not to spend all my money on spices and dried fruits and nuts and such. And even Turkish delight, which I always thought was kind of nasty (Edmund was willing to trade his soul for THIS!?), but fresh from the market is actually pretty dang good (Edmund I understand you a little better now). Especially the ones rolled in coconut. I think initially I limited myself to: 1 box of Turkish delight (to share), dried apricots, almonds, apple tea, orange tea, and, of course, 1 small jar of saffron. 

One of my favorite moments in Istanbul happened while we were walking along this lovely path back from the Ecumenical Patriarchate back to the Spice Bazaar (quite a long way). The call to prayer started and from where we were standing, we could hear the muezzin (the call to prayer singer) coming from four or five mosques and then echoing out over the water. It was absolutely lovely. 

Istanbul was hot hot hot and sticky. Wearing anything but the Turk pants we bought (which you will see later) was pretty much unbearable, but we soldiered on with shiny faces (yes, like mine below) and sweating backs. Pictured below: me in Haggia Sophia; a mosaic from Haggia Sophia; Haggia Sophia tombs where the five sultans and their families were buried; inside Fethiye Mosque.

Before Turkey, I had never been in a mosque before. I knew the appropriate protocol, of course, but I'd never had a chance or reason to visit one. In some ways our visits to them were rather disheartening: many of the tourists in the mosques put their shoes on the carpet or otherwise showed the bottoms of their feet = very offensive; some of the women were dressed inappropriately (shorts, tank tops, etc) or, once inside and away from the eyes of the officials, removed their head scarves. So. Rude. In the Blue Mosque, I was particularly saddened to see that the women's prayer area (at least they had one!) was in the back by all the tourists and behind the place where people could store their shoes. (Perhaps I was overly paranoid about the bottom of the foot thing...since I've been back, I've been reveling in being able to sit with my feet showing...but better to be overly culturally conscious, right?). Most people didn't notice them trying to pray. It's hard to be a woman in Islam, I think. But on the more positive side, it was touching to see the men and their sons doing their ablutions before entering. And although I felt a bit invasive staring at them while they prayed, it was still lovely to see. The mosques were all beautiful inside...and the carpet felt glorious on our tired feet.

More to come later.