Day 286 Bus Hell to Visa Hell

In the evening from Olympos, I took a bus to the top of the valley, another bus for two hours to Antalya, and another bus for fifteen (!!!) hours to Antakya, near Syria. I was sore, I hurt all over, and although I had my neck pillow this time, I could not sleep much because I was too uncomfortable. Before I even got my bag from under the bus, I had a guy telling me that if I wanted to go to Syria I had to hurry to catch the next bus. I had just finished 3 bus trips and wanted to rest. I let him lead me to a food stall/money changer because I was completely out of Turkish money to pay for the bus. The transaction happened very fast with my hundred dollar bill turning into a fifty, ten Turkish lira, and some Syrian money of which I had no idea what the value was. (I checked later and wasn’t cheated). Then he showed me the bus and disappeared with my passport and the Turkish lira. I sat on the bus for 15 minutes and when the bus was about to leave, I started to get worried about my passport. He came back at the last moment. Whew! We drove about an hour to the Turkish border, which was backed up about a mile with trucks. We all got off and walked for about half a mile to the border while the bus tried to make it through.

My problem was that I had no visa. In Istanbul the Syrian embassy said, “It is impossible for you to get a visa at the border.” I had read that you could pay extra (wink wink) and get a visa. When I got to the border and they saw that I had no visa, I was taken into a supervisor’s office on the side and questioned in terrible English. There were too many people around to consider offering a bribe in any way. He told me they would fax Damascus and I had to wait. I got there at noon. At two, they asked me more questions and faxed again. At four-ish, they asked the same questions and I talked to the commanding officer and they faxed again. In the mean time, I met a Jordanian guy that had been there for a few days waiting because he forgot to say on his first visa that he was going back through Syria again after going to Turkey. I hung out with him at the outdoor café, drank tea, ate a kebab, and watched a Turkish soap opera with a bunch of grizzled Turkish truck drivers. At six, a taxi driver offered to drive me into Aleppo (my bus abandoned me of course). He woke me up at 11:30, sleeping on a bench in the lobby, and told me my visa was ready. Then he helped me find the guy in the vestibule in the back of the building that sold me some postage stamps to put inside my passport. The taxi driver even used some of his own change when I was short. Back at the visa window, I waited for the slowest man ever to process my visa. Finally, after waiting for me for 6 hours of my 12 hours there, the taxi driver drove me across the border at midnight to Aleppo, 38 miles away (60km) away. I knew $20 USD was too much, but I didn’t care. He still had to drive further than that home.

Day 285 Blood and Indiana Jones

The next day I spent the morning (4 hours) cliff diving and snorkeling. I saw lots of little fish and an angry looking octopus that I left alone. I also found an underwater tunnel that connected to a hidden pool inside the rocks. It was about 12 ft (4m) underwater and maybe 25 ft (8m) long. It was a scary and exhilarating swim. The barnacles and rough rocks chewed me up as I swam through the tunnel, but I was glad I did it. When I got back to the top to dive again, I counted 22 places on my hands, arms, legs, and feet that were bleeding. They weren’t enough to worry about so I kept diving.

I hit the ruins afterward and loved it. The city is almost completely un-restored, overgrown by forest, and nearly devoid of signs, maps, and tourists. It makes it feel like you are the only one to see the ruins in ages. The trails, where they exist, disappear on one side of a ruin and you have to climb through, over the carved stones, that once were a building, to find the trail on the other side. I really had to work for it. I felt more like Indiana Jones there than anywhere I have ever been. I cut randomly through the trees and vines, and found hidden ruins and tombs that seemed completely undiscovered. There is one building with large sections of intact mosaics, very cool. I ended up climbing the ruins to the top of the mountain to a fantastic overlook of the ocean. Exhausted, in the unrelenting sun, it was then that I knew that I would be very sore from the day’s fun.

Day 284 Fire on the Mountain

I took two buses to get to Olympos, Turkey. I stayed in one of many “tree house” hostels in which the tree houses are built on varying height stilts around the trees rather than in the trees. It was cool though. It was a total chill place with hammocks and cushioned platforms to kickback on under the trees. They even played funky chill music all the time. With free breakfast and dinner, and wi-fi, I was not complaining.

The ocean was only 500 meters away through the ruins of an ancient city. I hit the beach first with its wonderful warm blue water and big rocks to dive from. I spent a few hours the first day just diving off a 26 ft (8m) rock. The bad part was the rock was very rough and as careful as I was I still ripped up one of my toes. (much worse to come).

That night I took a minibus up to see the Chimera flames on the mountain. They are from naturally occurring gas escaping from the ground at high temperature. When they come into contact with air, they ignite. It was a 30 minute ride and a mile walk up the mountain to the few flames that are left; they have dwindled over the centuries from covering the mountainside to only a few spots now. They are still cool. You can put them out and they reignite. There were a couple of Turkish women up there singing folk songs under the stars and it was very cool.

Day 283 Anatalya, Turkey...Yawn...

I took a 12 hour bus to Antalya on the south coast, starting at 11:00 pm. I forgot my neck inflatable pillow in my checked bag and got stuck in an aisle seat with no comfortable place to put my head. It was not a good night. At least on Turkish buses they give you all the free plastic pudding cup sized waters that you want and an occasional snack (chocolate cake). I stayed in a hostel that was more café/travel agency than hostel. I didn’t really care for Antalya either. There were a bunch of pay beaches and nice looking water and lots of sun. That is about it.

I should mention here the popularity of ex-president, Mustafa Ataturk in Turkey. There are tributes to him all over and he is on all the money. You get the feeling he is genuinely loved when you see all the books about him, the trinkets with his likeness, and so on. I looked into his history and then I understood. He was a visionary with the drive and nerve to do things that others thought were crazy. For instance, he abolished all religious laws and established a secular government, he gave equal rights to women, he had the Turkish alphabet changed from difficult Arabic script to Latin letters (allowing people to easily learn to read in a few months), changed the Turkish language from being 80 percent Arabic words to newly invented Turkish words. And the most amazing thing is the time frame in which he did these things. Changing the alphabet happened in only five months. He is a man that deserves respect.

Day 282 A Turkish Bath

A visit to Istanbul would not be complete without going to a hammam, a traditional Turkish bath. I went to a 300-year-old hammam that is featured in the book One Thousand Places to See Before You Die. All sorts of famous people from Tony Curtis to Omar Sharif have been to this one. I changed into a waist cloth and awkward wooden sandals and was led to a large magnificent marble room with a huge heated marble platform in the middle. The columns, arches, and dome with its star shaped holes for light exuded history. I was alone, laying on the slab, sweating and listening to the quiet hiss of steam and the dripping of water. It was serene and otherworldly. For ten minutes... then came the burly, unshaved, half naked Turkish guy that tried with all his weight to smash me into the marble slab. He twisted and popped things that I had no idea could pop. He was merciless. The unforgiving stone allowed for a deep tissue massage that reached the tissue on my opposite side. I have never been so happy to have a massage end. He took me over to one of the marble basins on the side and proceeded to aggressively scrub my skin off. Literally, he was removing copious amounts of skin that balled up and stuck to my body hair. Then came the body shampoo. He was not shy and only barely avoided my more personal parts. He washed off the thick coat of foam by dipping a bowl in the basin and repeatedly dumping it over my head. He left me to relax on the slab again and peace returned. Sure I felt like roadkill, but a very relaxed roadkill. After a recovery period, I visited the "hot" room. I made the mistake of stepping out of my sandals briefly and almost scorched my feet on the floor. It took me a few minutes to be able to sit on the blisteringly hot bench. The hot room was aptly named. I stayed for a few minutes and returned to the serenity of the slab. When I finally left, it was reluctantly on several counts; it was a wonderful relaxing place to be and my body did not want to exert the energy required to walk.

Day 282 A Cool Turkish Delight

The hidden cistern in Istanbul is a perfect place to go when you are the at your most hot and sweaty. An inconspicuous little building off a busy intersection leads down to a giant underground cistern (water storage cavern) with an elevated walkway through the 336 columns that hold up the street and buildings above. It covers about 100,000 sq ft (9,000sq m) and is a delightfully peaceful, cool, and dark place that is a heavenly respite from the hustle, bustle, and heat above. In the back there are a couple giant Medusa heads taken from somewhere and intentionally installed one upside down and one on its side. They do not know why. The water is riddled with goldfish, some are enormous and obese.

Apparently, there were some scenes from a James Bond movie filmed here, but I do not remember which one.

Day 281 Turkish Dance Party and the Sultan's Pad

I took a morning ferry cruise up the Bosporus about half way to the Black Sea and back for only about 4.50 USD for the hour and a half round trip. The large ferries are an experience since the captains treat them like small launches and cruise close to each other and whip them around with remarkable speed.

The view was not as entertaining as my fellow passengers. A group of teenage Turkish girls came on and gave the ferry guy a CD to play. From the time we started moving until we stopped it was a Turkish dance party. The girls danced with each other and a group of older men danced away from them. Men and women do not dance together in public here.

I headed back through the Indian Spice market, which is a trip. The smell is indescribable and intoxicating. The enormous piles of colorful spices at so many shops is amazing. They also sell candy nougats with tourist appealing names like Viagra and Aphrodisiac. Of course, they call almost everything with nuts and honey and aphrodisiac. I don’t think they believe it. They have merely learned what sells to tourists.

In the afternoon I went to the royal palace. Oh to be a Sultan! To have a grand and spectacular palace, all the fine food you can eat (they were all fat), a harem of the prettiest and most talented girls, over-the-top jewels, precious metals, and art, armies to control, countries to conquer, countless minions….

The palace in Istanbul is beautiful. Not only for its ornate decoration, but also its lovely expansive grounds and its perch above the Bosporus River, with a view of Europe and Asia. The picture is of a scale model of the palace as it still is now. The harem was okay, not as splendid as I expected. What really got me was the treasury. They liked really big jewels. The golden throne studded with emeralds was cool. As were the rock crystal pitchers used to hold drinking water for the Sultans. Photos were not allowed anywhere near the treasury and they were very serious about it, so I can't show you sorry.

Day 280 Turkish Food!

Turkish breakfast was a refreshing change. Tea or Turkish coffee, one hard boiled egg, a chunk of feta, dried oiled olives, sliced cucumber, tomato, butter, honey, jam, and bread. After not eating traditional heavy English style breakfast for so long, the idea of fried eggs, potatoes, and sausage is not appealing.

I stopped at a strange little food stall in the Grand Bazaar where everyone, about 9 people including me, crowded around a tall table with bins of green things in the middle. What you do is order lamb or beef, pork (not seen here) and they give you a rolled up meat filled pita, a pile of parsley, pickle strips, and grilled, long green peppers (anaheim) on a piece of paper on the table. You sprinkle the parsley with lemon juice and salt, and as you eat the pita, you stuff your mouth with the other things. As you need more, you can grab it out of the center bins.

I did what I usually do and ordered the strangest looking thing to drink. Salgam, not only falls into the strange category, it defines it. I was startled by the taste of this dark purple/brown liquid. It is spicy, fermented, purple carrot juice. I drank it all, out of fascination rather than pleasure. My curiosity was satisfied and I will not be buying it again.

Another meal was a scorchingly hot ceramic dish with beef, tomatoes, cheese, and spices. It was delicious with the chewy and plentiful pita bread. I could eat this many times.

The Turkish custom of having tea all hours of the day is interesting in that you see everyone with a little saucer, spoon, and glass cup. I mean everyone. People sitting by a blanket strewn with trinkets have a cup, clerks in stores have cups, people everywhere have them. They get delivered and collected by whatever café is near. Walking around you can see forgotten empty cups and saucers sitting on the sidewalk, on electrical boxes, railings.... everywhere. The tea is typically a bitter apple tea that you can sweeten to taste.

Day 279 Mosques, Dervishes, Bazaars, and More!

For the first mosque I have ever visited, I chose the Blue Mosque, so named for the blue tiles covering the interior. Unfortunately, its grandeur draws the tourist hoards who are incessantly piling off buses and following a guide holding up a little flag so no one gets lost. I queued up with the masses, took off my shoes, put them in a plastic bag, and went in. I was happy to see that the visitors are restricted to one side so that you get an unblemished view of the rest of the enormous and grand mosque. I love the large metal light frames, in various designs, that hang low over the floor to provide a subdued light. The support wires go straight up to the very high ceiling to avoid a bunch of angled wires that would confuse the view of painted and tiled ceiling. The many high windows and lights coupled with the light colored tiles makes for a pleasant cheery atmosphere that is a nice change from the slew of dreary and oppressive churches I have seen.

I sat in my socks for about half an hour on the prayer carpet and enjoyed the view, doing my best to block out the fast moving armies of consumerism. The tour people have very little time. They spew out of the buses, fly through the sites, snap some photos, buy some overpriced trinkets, and then they are gone to see the next wonder. Most of the people in the mosque were from one of the behemoth cruise ships parked in the harbor. I can see the desire and convenience of a guided tour, and have taken small ones myself, but I much prefer the luxury of taking as much or as little time as I need to absorb the wonders of the world. On the way out I was surprised to see the number of people that threw their shoes onto the mat that was covered with pictures and signs saying “no shoes here.”

Next, I went over to the Hagia Sofia, a former church converted to a mosque, now a museum. The size of the place is truly overwhelming. Pictures do not do it justice. It would be better if you read about it on Wikipedia. I won’t even try to pathetically describe it other than to say it is refreshingly un-restored for the most part, and it blew my mind how big it was. When I get up the gallery, you will see.

Next I walked the 5 blocks to the Grand Bazaar. At first it is a nice neat collection of more expensive looking shops arranged down long covered streets. My initial disappointment was eased as I plunged in the warren of little shops behind. Even as cluttered and small as the alleyways were, they stayed on a grid pattern so it was easy to keep my bearings. I saw many things I wanted to buy, but self-control and the knowledge that I would have to carry it, won out. That is until I went out of the official covered area into the back streets with less official vendors.

Even though I do not wear a watch when I travel, I am a watch whore. I am always looking. I could not pass up a lovely large Panerai Luminor with an azure bezel. I decided what I wanted to spend and stuck to it, trying to walk away a few times as the vendor called me back. He tried his best, but I did not budge. He seemed upset but he sold it to me for half of what I paid for similar ones in Brasil. I managed to avoid the rug merchants completely in Istanbul, a major accomplishment.

On the way back to the hostel there were several outdoor cafes that had a band and a whirling dervish spinning and spinning. It is fascinating to watch them. For a while anyway. They spin and spin and spin with their arms out, head cocked to one side, and skirt flying out in a large cone. That is all they do. The music was nice.

Day 278 Istanbul, Turkey

Crossing the border into Turkey was interesting. Bulgarian immigration and customs was straight forward; get off the bus, line up, get stamped, get back on the bus drive a 100 yards to just before the Turkish border. A few people got off and we on the bus waited for them while they went to a little booth about 50 yards away. By chance, I was sitting next to an American guy that was working in Turkey. He went and asked in Turkish if we needed to go the booth. Yes.

Over at the booth, we bought twenty dollar postage stamps that go in the passports to show you have paid the fee. Back on the bus, a Turkish policeman checked our passports, rubber stamped them, and we drove about 100 yards to the duty free shop for everyone to buy cigarettes. Then we drove another 100 yards, pulled out the luggage, and stood there while the customs agent poked through everyone’s but my bag. I must not have been looking overly suspicious that day. And then we were off again, only an hour later.

The name Istanbul, formerly called Constantinople, has always been heavy with exotic flavor to me. Straddling the Bosporus River, which is the division between Europe and Asia, it is the gateway to strange and very foreign lands. At fourteen million people the size of the city is imposing. The main bus station, a small city unto itself, is testament to the importance of buses in the country. Trains are inefficient, few, and slow compared to the buses. My American friend helped me find my way to the old town via metro and tram line and gave me one piece of advice, “People are going to stare at you, don’t think anything of it. It is just their custom.”

I walked two blocks, looked up to my left at the enormous Hagia Sofia Mosque and said “wow” then I looked to my right at the Blue Mosque and said “oh, wow!” Individually, either of these imposing landmarks is impressive. Together, with the lovely park space separating them, they give a surreal feeling like you are in a giant theme park that has been designed to overwhelm. My hostel was only a block off the park area. Up on the rooftop terrace/bar I enjoyed a cold beer, a crisp salad, the view of both Mosques and the river with Asia on the opposing shore, and free wi-fi. Things were starting very well. When the evening call to prayer started and I could hear the mullahs from three different mosques singing the Koran verses, their mixed voices echoing through the streets from the minarets was like mainlining exotic flavor; it was strange, fascinating, and exhilerating. I loved it.