Coming Soon:

Picture highlights of our trip. (This'll just take a little time to sync our albums together is all...)

Not a Great Day: Pissed in London

After a nearly flawless streak of 28 straight days ending with Jennie proclaiming "Another great day!" (this streak was interrupted only by the day in which we got lost hiking around Faralya, where I ended up vomiting due to heat exhaustion, but the streak subsequently began anew), we were filled with new grievances in London.

An unexpected trip to London goes by in a blur.

As I sort of anticipated, there were complications in England that were related to the failed terrorist attack that occurred in Glasgow less than a week earlier. First, our flight from Turkey to London was delayed by about 4 hours, which ensured that we would be missing our scheduled flight to New York, and that Jennie would be missing her connection back to D.C. This was followed by the announcement that all flights out of Terminal 4 in London's Heathrow airport were canceled due to suspicious package (and of course, our rescheduled connecting flight was out of Terminal 4). When we finally touched down in London we soon discover that our checked luggage has been lost.

British Airways was good enough to agree to compensate travelers for this setback, and after about two or three hours of trying to orient ourselves to the situation, we found ourselves heading into downtown London to grab a hotel for the night. We tried to make the best of the situation, eating a late dinner at one of London's many fine Indian restaurants. I was excited about the possibility that we might be stuck in London for a long time on British Airways' bill. After all, I'd never been in London before, and incidentally, we were there smack-dab in the middle of Wimbledon.

In the end, this was all not meant to be. After a long night on the phones trying to set up our new flight back to the states, and in which I got no more than about 3 hours of sleep, we are back on our feet at 6 in the morning with a 10:30 flight. We get to the airport at about 7AM, with a good 3 1/2 hours to go before takeoff, but find ourselves in a long line to check in. After 45 minutes (7:45 AM), we have worked our way through half of the line, and I assume that we'll be through the line with 2 hours to spare before the flight takes off. But then, they start calling people to skip ahead of us in line who have more eminent flights. By about 9:45 we have been standing literally at the front of the line for an hour while we are getting bypassed by people flying to Dubai, Boston, and everywhere else. It is at about this time that I start compiling an angry music playlist on my iPod and regretting that I don't have any Rage Against the Machine to listen to (I have since saved and retitled the playlist "Pissed in Heathrow"). After over two hours in the line, we finally get to the desk attendant, she informs us that we have arrived too late and that our gate has closed, and I bubble over and let out an emphatic "FUUUUUUCCCCKKK!!" and start shaking with rage. Apparently this did the trick, because she then agrees to make an exception for us and gets us checked in.

The rest of our trips back to the states (mine to Chicago, Jennie's to D.C.) are similarly tense. Since my checked baggage has been lost, I no longer have anything to check away my enormous bottle of rakı that I had bought Duty-Free in Istanbul's airport. When the security guards in New York see me try to pass this through my carry-on luggage for my Chicago flight, they laugh and say the best I can do is drink as much of the bottle as I can right now and throw the rest away. At 45% alcohol by volume, I decide this is a bad idea, and quickly run back to check-in where the people at JetBlue are able to create a makeshift box to check my rakı, and I catch the flight with minutes to spare. For her part, Jennie was bumped off the next several flights and only arrives back in Washington, D.C. at midnight.

Fireworks over Chicago's Navy Pier.

In the end, I was able to make it back to Chicago, where I arrived just in time to join my friend Jen and her friends for a picnic at Lincoln Park. Incidentally, the first food that I am offered at this picnic is a Mediterranean-style turkey burger (true!). This is followed by a night on the roof of her friend's 30-floor apartment complex to watch the hours of firework shows that are happening in neighborhoods around the city. Jen informs me that the main fireworks in Chicago actually happened on the 3rd, and that what I am seeing are actually fireworks celebrating my safe return. Well, thank you very much, Chicago! I had a great time.

Putting Turkish Hospitality to the Test

After three weeks of frusteratingly ineffective attempts to reach my friend Pelin due to difficulties in timing and in simply figuring out the Turkish telephone system, on Monday I eventually had gotten through and let her know that we were going to be passing through Turunç the next day. We arrive in Turunç and Pelin escorts us to her family's summerhome, a short walk from a community beach. Our hosts graciously offer us drinks, escort us to the beach for a swim in the ocean, and then we return for dinner and a couple games of tavla (backgammon), where I am roundly trounced by Pelin repeatedly (although she very charitably says that I am playing quite well and she is just getting lucky).

As we return to the porch for desert (a treat made with whipped cream, bananas, and a sort of chocolate cake, followed by watermelon wedges), Pelin's sister starts asking "So how are you getting back to Fethiye?" Of course, we are not going back to Fethiye, but eventually the meaning of the message becomes clear: while I understood that we were staying the night, our hosts did not (I'll claim responsibility for this one). This all shook down at about 11pm, and thus began our very critical 24-hour test of Turkish hospitality.

Test 1: Despite having a fairly small house, Pelin and her sister do not miss a beat and quickly volunteer to sacrifice their beds to give us a place to sleep. And then, despite our plans to quickly move on in the morning so as to not be a burden, we are treated to a delicious breakfast featuring soft-boiled eggs and homemade strawberry jam. Following this, Pelin's family invites us to join them as they drive us back to Marmaris, stopping at the local bazaar and supermarket, where Pelin and her sister educate me on the country's finest candy bars, and Pelin's mom assists Jennie in working on her conversational Turkish. They encourage us to try the local ice cream stand's pistacchio ice cream -- the finest pistacchio ice cream I've ever tasted! -- and Pelin's mom even insists on paying for our double-scoops of the same. Finally, they drive us back to the otogar (bus station) and wait for us until we have safely boarded our bus to Izmir.

Test 2: About five hours later, we arrive at Izmir's otogar, and realize we need to connect on another bus to reach our hotel near the center of town. Jennie makes the assumption that all the connecting buses are heading toward the center of Izmir, where we want to be, and so we hop on the first bus we find, and about forty minutes later find that we are out in the middle of nowhere, all the people on our bus have filed off, and we apparently headed off in the exact opposite direction of where we wanted to go.

On our now-empty bus, we ask the bus driver how we get to where we want to be, and he responds with presumably very useful directions which we don't understand in the least. He attempts to dumb down his explanation to no avail. But instead of leaving us to our mess, he goes out of the way to drive us to a station where we can transfer onto a bus that will take us where we want to go, and then exits his bus himself and waits 15 minutes outside with us for our bus to arrive and to make sure that we have boarded the right bus this time around.

Bonus credit: At the closing of our 24-hour test of Turkish hospitality, we have finally arrived at our hotel and are now looking for food. Our hotel is in the Çankaya area of town, which is quite nearly the cheapest place we've found yet in Turkey -- a kilo of cherries (two+ pounds) sells for about 75 cents -- and the place is decidedly local; we stick out like sore thumbs. We stop at a kebap stand and feast on delicious chicken and meatball kebaps at their outdoor tables. When we are done, a stranger who has been watching us eat gives each of us a large wedge of watermelon for free and wanders away. As we make a mess of ourselves picking our way through the watermelon, another random stranger wanders over to us and gives us a couple napkins. So although we have tried our best to overstay our welcomes and become hopelessly lost, we have instead been endlessly assisted in our way to Izmir and dining on meals and snacks frequently given to us for free. Turkey passes our test with an A+ --this time. I am working on ways to turn up the heat for maybe one final test...

This Week in Review - The Turquoise Coast

Çok sıcak. It's hot. And we've come to use that phrase. A lot. But the heat is winning out and we've changed course and have taken to cool shelter for the next couple days. Dustin showed signs of heat exhaustion last night. And no wonder, as I'm typing this, Dustin just informed me that BBC reports Fethiye's temperature at 44 degrees Celsius (111 degrees F). I have a hard time believing this, being from Arizona and all. I do know from experience that we've been out in mid-to-high nineties weather. Not substantially different, I know. As I recount the week, we've spent five full days out in the sun.

Our plans for the week worked out beautifully and ended perfectly. Yesterday - Sunday morning - before dawn, we returned the car in Fethiye and the man who picked up the car agreed to take us to our starting point for our two-day trek along the Lycia Way - 40km out of his way as he drove the car back to Antalya. We got started on the trail at 7:00am and arrived in our first village, Kabak, around 10:00am. The walk was cool, but as the sun beat down on us as we made the climb up from the beach to the village, we knew we were in for a hot, hot day. We ate a great breakfast, the typical Turkish breakfast that I've come to love. This includes sliced cucumbers, sliced tomatoes, olives, fresh cheese, an egg - most of the time hard-boiled, bread, honey and jam. We rested for well over an hour before beginning the trek to the next village, Faralya, our stopping point of the day and another 7 km away. The Lycia trail is waymarked well, but after two-and-a-half hours of walking, we realize that we were walking on an alternative trail option taking us back to Kabak. Okay. We'll go back to Kabak and take the dolmuş, or minibus, to Faralya. We return to the village restaurant, Mama's Restaurant, and she takes care that we're well-supplied with fluid as well as plums, apricots, and pistachios while we wait for the dolmuş.

In Faralya, we stay at George House, another tree house pansiyon. Exactly a week ago, we stayed in Kadir's Treehouses in Mt. Olympos National Park. We had mixed feelings and expectations when we showed up there - one guidebook characterized the place as being back in summer camp, while the other said that what you intend to be a one-night stay may turn into a week-long stay. Some decide to spend the whole summer there as it turned out for Jackie, the girl who greeted us. She now works at Kadir's. When we arrive, there is a pick-up volley ball game going on. As we walk to our tree house, we notice that each tree house is decorated with a thematic mural - Hotel California, the Love Shack, and of course, one with the Simpson's. There are three bars, all with eclectic decorations and furniture and one night club featuring low divans and water pipes. The people staying there were very sporty and very, very attractive, and a general friendly vibe permeates the place. There was definitely a bohemian quality to it, lots of dread locks being part of the evidence. In addition, Kadir's had an extensive activity center - this is where Dustin and I rockclimbed. But you could also do canyoning, trekking, sea-kayaking - the beach being only 2km away (and the path trekked through the ancient Lycia city of Olympos). Kadir's also offered moonlight tours to view the Chimera - the flame burning out of the rocks for millenia. We stay another night even though we agree that the place truly does feel like camp - Dustin and I sleep in a six person dormitory style tree house with communal bathrooms located 50m away. But for what you get, a good breakfast and dinner included, all for 15YTL per person ($12), it's an exceptional deal. In the end, I'm glad that Turkey may be a bit too cold in March - otherwise, an MTV producer would realize that this place is the perfect place to host the next edition of Spring Break.

At George House, we feel a more relaxed, laid-back atmosphere. You wouldn't think from what I described above you could get any more laid-back, but it just was. The place is not nearly as big, there weren't as many people, and it was a more remote location. The place is situated on 500 meter cliffs that seemingly jut out into the ocean but also envelope the narrow valley immediately below - Kelebek Valley (Butterfly Valley). It is a stunning location. In the evening, Dustin and I watch the sun set over the Greek island of Rhodes. We had a third companion with us. We exchange greetings - iyi akşamlar (Good evening). Just before the orb sinks below Rhodes, our companion pulls out his cell phone to play music befitting the moment. Synthesized piano music - and I picture John Tesh being with us. Dustin heads down for the the night, exhausted from the heat, while I eat an excellent communal meal with all the other guests. We lounge in a circle with eight vegetarian options among us (most food grown from the pansiyon's farm) and The English Patient, dubbed in Turkish, showing on the TV.

In the morning, we are sad to leave. Sad because we know we shouldn't continue walking (we catch the dolmuş instead) but we also wish we had discovered George House sooner. As Dustin noted, next time.

Haggling for fun, profit, and dates...

Today I had one of my first successful haggling experiences, using lessons learned from new friends on a sea-kayaking expedition. In Kaş, we met a girl from Australia who had successfully travelled around Turkey and the Middle East for three months, and is now well-versed in the ways of haggling. She explained that she was able to get a man in Ölüdeniz to offer her the price of 120 lira for a paragliding ride (about $90... normally it would be about 170 lira, or about $130 or so), by simply going on a date with the man. "120 lira is as low as they will go," I note to myself, and I tuck this little fact away with me.

The next day Jennie and I arrive at Ölüdeniz. Jennie heads to the restroom, and as I am waiting, I discover that I am standing right next to a paragliding booth. The man asks me if I am interested in paragliding... I ask him if he has any more opportunities to go paragliding this afternoon, and he says this is possible. He gives me an initial price of 170 lira, but quickly is offering me the paragliding ride for only 150. I counter that that is not low enough... knowing our friend's ability to get the excursion for 120, I ask for 130. He says that he cannot go below 150. Back and forth we go, and then I look around the corner to see Jennie coming to meet us. When Jennie rounds the corner, the operator asks if she will also be going paragliding, also. I say that only she will be going paragliding... I am simply her designated haggler. As soon as he discovers that Jennie is going, he instantly says "OK, 130. Deal."

I don't think too terribly much about it, except basking in the glow of my impressive newfound haggling abilities. Jennie goes on her paragliding ride, which is done in tandem with a skilled paragliding instructor. When the ride is over, I discover that the instructor has asked Jennie for a date! (Jennie agrees, but unbeknownst to the poor paragliding instructor, it is only to work on her Turkish, as I sit around as a sort of chaperon.) Suddenly it dawns on me: I probably ain't getting that 130 lira deal until Jennie rounds the corner: these instructors aren't interested in going in a paragliding ride with me, even after all that time put in working on my tan on the beach over the last couple days (truth be told: these tanning sessions have left me looking like a lobster). Nonetheless, I did get that damn 130 lira deal, come hell or high water. I am a haggling master!

6 Days, 8 Breakfasts -- and Rakı Roads begins...

Note the correct spelling of "Rakı" (pronounced rah-kuh)... you may (should) be seeing this more often from here on out.

Yesterday was the conclusion of our life in the lap of luxury. We had previously been splurging in Kapadokya's Esbelli Evi, a luxurious cave hotel with free internet, friendly employees, and most important: wonderful breakfast spreads w/ fresh yogurt, olives and feta cheese, fresh-squeezed orange juice, and omelets made to order. We were there for 6 days, and since I woke up earlier than Jennie every day (yes, me... waking up early... go figure...) I sometimes treated myself to not one but two breakfasts on certain days. One employee also treated me to a couple complementary glasses of Rakı while Jennie and I played backgammon and cards in the evenings.

But that life is over. This picture finds me all sweaty and nasty after a ten-hour bus ride from Kapadokya to the coast town of Antalya. We spent the last night in more humble accomodations (no cave, toilet that doesn't flush), and -- worst of all -- may be left with questionnable internet access for the last couple days (!). We successfully haggled a great price for a car for the next week, and so thus begins a new and exciting chapter of Rakı Roads, which we can call the, uh, "Raki Roads" chapter... Here is how the Lonely Planet describes "Turkish Road Rules" in their latest guide:

"In theory, Turks drive on the right and yield to traffic approaching from the right. In practice, they often drive in the middle and yield to no one. Be prepared for drivers overtaking on blind curves. If a car approaches from the opposite direction, all three drivers slam on the brakes and pray."

From my observations on the road this is all true. Sounds like an exciting chapter ahead! Stay tuned...

Strike A Pose

The landscape of Kapadokya compels you to photograph. While capturing the landscape was one common photo, the others were the result of exploration. The region is particularly conducive to exploring - due to the region's geology, thousands of troglodyte dwellings and rock-hewn churches remain, all of which are wondrously carved out the earth and situated within striking valleys. We spent three of the six days we had in Kapadokya hiking. And we are wiped out. The walks were not so much long as they were scrambling up and down the valleys, and, most exciting, exploring the remains of the dwellings and churches.

On our first hike, we navigated our way through many tunnels as we made our way down the valley. On our way out of "Red Valley" we spotted a cave that looked particularly promising - four stories high. We climbed three floors and actually made it to the top. We sat, perched on top, surveying the scene. We didn't spend too much time there, as we had to head back down to take shelter for an afternoon thunderstorm. The cave protected us well, and in no time we were hiking our way out. At the end of the hike we enjoyed a glass of local white wine at a cafe situated at the mouth of the valleys. It was a pleasant stop especially since another thunderstorm rolled quickly by.


The climax of our second hike was stumbling upon a church perched above in the top of a fairy chimney. Using the ladder carved into the rock, we made our way up to find a dilapidated church which still had amazing frescoes remaining. There were also two former graves.











We spent a long, long day touring the southern part of the region. We hiked two valleys - Ihlara and the monastery valley at Güzelyurt. En route between the two, we visited a mammoth monastery complex at Selime. This was certainly the highlight of the day. How folks were able to create these cities is beyond incredible. This monastery complex had a huge church with a second story gallery inside it.

Ballooning over Kapadokya

For the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Dustin and I shelled out the big bucks to go hot-air balloning over Cappadocia. We woke up at 4:00am to view the landscape at dawn. The one hour and fifty minute ride was quite the awesome experience. Upon touchdown, the group celebrated "survival" with a Cloud 9 cocktail - Turkish sparkling wine with cherry juice.

Check out the video as we mosy our way through Love Valley - the "fairy chimneys" are one of Cappadocia's many unique geologic features.

"With any luck, we'll get lost down here..." (stupidest last words; actual quote)

Yesterday, Jennie and I headed to the underground city at Derinkuyu, which is believed to be the largest underground city in Kapadokya. Underground cities are apparently pretty common here in the region, which early Christians built to seek refuge from the invading Roman armies that would frequently slaughter them.

We enter the underground city, which we discover descends at least 8 stories underground. I position myself very, very carefully over the hole leading to the cave's ventilation system, and take a look down.

As we continue, I discover to my chagrin, that several pathways have been covered with mortar and stone bricks by the Turkish government. In fact, I discover later that only about 5% of the underground city is open to the public. So unfortunately, we don't get lost down there. Of course, I'm not entirely happy about this, but maybe it's for the best. The full underground city apparently spans several kilometers, and was closed off after several tourists like myself got lost in it and died.

On our way back out of the cave, we run into a group of about 5 or 6 Turkish teenagers, who are snapping photos of each other. We gesture to see if they would like to have a large group photo, and when they agree I try to impress them by counting "Bir, iki, üç..." (One, two, three...). Of course, their camera doesn't flash on "three", so I stumble onward, saying "um, um, dört [four]," trying to make a little joke to compensate for the slow camera. They laugh at this, a lot. Later, I recall that the Lonely Planet phrase book mentions that the word "um" translates roughly to a vulgar term for vagina. So I don't really know exactly what they were laughing at. In any case, they agree to return the favor and take a picture of us on our way out.

Balık ekmek var mı? -- Do you have a fish sandwich?

The Galata bridge spans the body of water known as the Golden Horn and it connects the old neighborhood of Sultanahmet (where most tourist sites are) with the commercial district of Istanbul. Down here on the Galata bridge you see the hustle and bustle of Istanbul - ferry terminals bringing people from all over and fisherman with just-caught fish grilling it up and hawking balık ekmek (fish sandwiches). It was time for a snack and it was time to try balık ekmek.

With all balık ekmek competively priced at 3 YTL ($2.50), Dustin and I had the tough decision of deciding which place to buy from. We could just stand and eat on the sidewalk while being jostled by busy Istanbulus with someplace to go . . . or we could check out how it was that people were walking under the Galata bridge. It turned out to be an arcade of sorts, mostly consisting of restaurants featuring balık ekmek and hooka bars. The place that won out sold not only balık ekmek for the mere 3 YTL but also included beer for an additional 3 YTL. A great snack.