Wanderlust Heaven!

This entry will be a bit clipped – have a lot going on over here. No complaints, just a lot on.

Spent my final few days in Jordan seeing the rest of the country’s main sights. Hiked the Dana Nature Park with Marcel…visited Shobak Crusader Castle en route to Petra…and finally, and most prominently, spent a few days in Wadi Musa, the town adjacent to Petra.

I won’t get into the story of Petra here – suffice it to say that it’s a UNESCO World Heritage sight, and it well deserves that sticker.

New friend Brian, a New Yorker whom I met on the bus to Cappadocia in Turkey, had recommended the Petra Moon Hotel, so Marcel and I headed there and found it to our general liking. Very near the Petra entrance gate, and near as well to a strip of restos and other shops.

Spent two hard-core days wandering and hiking in Petra with Marcel, the flying Dutchman. We did it all on foot – no rancid donkeys or lame-o horses for us – local tourists and overweight foreigners tended to rely on those modes of transport. I personally wanted a bit of exercise, and besides I feel pretty stupid atop an animal in places like that.

Petra’s full of monumental sights – the Treasure and the Monastery are the most famous, but the place is like one big weird lost world. You enter via the Siq, a 1.2 km path that runs between high rock walls. Recall ‘Indiana Jones and the Quest for the Holy Grail.’ You emerge and see this, the Treasury:

We soon moved on to a clamber up a ways to see the Monastery, and spent a few hours chilling in the hills around it:

Wasn’t bored for a second – was impressed for 95% of the day. Rare experience indeed. The place inspires internal poetry – if I had more time to ruminate here, I’d explain or even make a sorry attempt at poetry, but you’re spared (for the time being).

Finished up with some beers at Wranglers Pub…

Day two – we entered Petra by way of Wadi al-Muthlib, a dry (for now) riverbed that bypasses the Siq and takes you into Petra the long way round. That hike took the better part of an hour…stopped for a bit to have some tea with a Bedouin woman and her two cute kids. Ran into a foreign lass who told us about a great hike up a plateau nearby – we decided to tackle that in the afternoon. Wadi al-Muthlib:

After that, we hiked up a while till we got to a great spot that looked out over the Treasury – classic view:

We had already done a couple longish hikes, and stopped for a lazy lunch at the Crowne Plaza’s buffet spot – not cheap, but we deserved a splurge.

And after a round of burps, we made our way over to the plateau hike, Umm al-Qiryana, which was a good 40 minutes huffing up the side of a mountain (steps were graciously provided), and provided a range of views over the valley:

Also saw Mt. Haroun in the distance.  Supposedly Moses’s bro Aaron is buried there.  Didn’t have time to undertake the long hike out there.

I was not surprised by Petra’s brilliant monuments and sights – I was surprised what a great place it was for hiking. We could have spent another day or two consumed by longish hikes to other worthy destinations – but I think our feet would have protested. All in all, a much-anticipated and truly fulfilled trip to this superb place. Jordan’s done a good job preserving it (with plenty of international help), and I’m glad they have such a cash-spinner to help them develop.

Took care of a few errands that evening. Booked a hotel for the following night in Aqaba…printed out the letters I’d need to hand over in Cairo for my Indian visa…and looked into Cairo hotels.

Marcel and I went out for dinner after that – ended up at Al-Arabi Restaurant, which was pretty damn good. I had fuul, a fava bean paste that’s better than it sounds, and a chicken shish sandwich. After that we moved next door for some tea and a waterpipe. Very relaxing and a good conclusion to a couple challenging days.

Before sleeping I took a lariam (malaria prophylaxis) pill, as I’d be going to India in two weeks and wanted to get started early. Read a bit of my Egypt guidebook, then hit the sack. Lariam has been accused of giving people bad dreams, or worse…but I’d never had a single discernible problem with it, and swear by the stuff. You take it just once a week, and it’s dirt-cheap. Anyway, I woke up in the wee hours after dreaming that a huge cobra was right next to my bed and was rearing up to bite me. I jumped clear out of the bed and ran for the light switch. Which, when flipped, revealed exactly nothing. I moved the curtains – zilch. Nothing under the bed. Was it the combination of the lariam and reading about the wildlife of Egypt? Maybe it was.

Couldn’t get back to sleep – at 4:30 a.m. the muezzin started broadcasting the call to prayer. Reminded me of the 4 a.m. or so Vietnam village wakeup/newscasts. Not charming, and not one of my favorite memories.

Next day, we did a daytrip in a 4WD with a driver and a couple other tourists, a nice French couple from Carcassone. We visited a bunch of spots in the Wadi Rum desert reserve, a very cool part of Jordan that apparently was one of King Hussein’s favorite places. Khalef was our driver, a warm and funny guy who spoke only a bit of English but made it work.

Wadi Rum was where Lawrence of Arabia spent lots of time. He had a house of sorts there, we visited it but it’s now just a pile of rubble. There are other Lawrence-related sights around the desert as well.

Khalef made us a great lunch of BBQ chicken, hummos, bread and salad. Very Arabic. These Bedouins are incredibly self-sufficient – the lunch was restaurant-quality and he did it all himself in 30-45 minutes. While we waited and ate, he turned on the car stereo and cranked some surprisingly catchy Bedouin hits – I recorded a couple, let me know if you want to hear them.

We spent most of the day driving/wandering around Wadi Rum, and at 4 p.m. or so we went to the ‘sunset place’ to watch the sun go down. That wasn’t as spectacular as we hoped for, the sunset was a bit bland, but by then we were a bit weary and it was time to press on to Aqaba, the southernmost city in Jordan and really my final stop in the country. I’d only have that night and the following morning there, before getting on a 4-hour bus to Amman, from where I’d fly to Cairo. It was all happening pretty fast, a bit more quickly than I would have liked…but I had to get to Cairo.

Got into Aqaba around 6 p.m. Showered and washed the desert dust off my body and my packs. Marcel was still traveling with me, we went to a bus station and bought our Amman tickets for the next day – he’d go back to Madaba, and on to Jerusalem from there. It had been a week since we’d met in Amman, on the Jerash tour, and we’d seen much of the rest of the country together.

At one point Marcel and the desk clerk were talking in some unknown tongue. I was about to ask Marcel where the fuck he learned Arabic (Marcel’s Arabic is even worse than mine), but then realized they were speaking in Dutch, another guttural tongue. Apparently the clerk had worked in Europe for years and had told Marcel that. I think the previous night’s cobra dream and lack of sleep had affected me…

Marcel and I proceeded to track down a good pub, Rovers Return, order a couple pitchers of beer and some fries, and recount our stories from the week. I was envious that he’d soon be in Jerusalem – he was envious that I’d be in Cairo, and have a few months more of travel in front of me. Envious creatures we are, we humans…

Moved on to a promising Lebanese spot downstairs for dinner. We weren’t that hungry, given the 2 kg’s of fries we’d just inhaled, so concentrated on mezze, had some hummos with meat, a plate of fried haloumi cheese, and something else I can’t remember. Marcel had to piss – he was gone a while, and was smiling when he returned to the table. He said he’d gone in the wrong door, a red door near the toilet, and behind it was an illicit hostess bar with Eastern Euro women. Interesting. Didn’t surprise me – besides Japan, this part of the world is the world champion in hidden/secret bars and hangouts.

We went in this place after dinner. Turned out to be pretty tame. A Moldovan waitress came over and hung out with us while we had a beer, but she didn’t speak much English and my Russian was only so handy. We left after a half hour or so. Not exactly Bangkok…but we didn’t expect that level of mayhem anyway.

Watched the Letterman Show for a half-hour – can’t recall the last time I saw it. Dave is still the same – fairly comforting to know that.

Aqaba’s climate couldn’t have been more different, and welcoming. Just an hour or two north, in Wadi Musa, it was cold at night and in the morning, and things didn’t dry well in that air. Here, all the stuff I washed after the day in the desert were dry within a couple hours. Amazing. Of course, in the summer this place is probably like hell, but for now it was perfect.

You can also see Eilat, Israel, just across the gulf:

Marcel and I power-walked the few tourist sights in the morning. Really the key draw is the Corniche, the waterside promenade. But we also saw the ruins of ancient Ayla…the Royal Jordanian Yacht Club…the little local museum…and the small castle. We sat on the beach and drank coffee at a cool little spot. Then we had to return to the hotel to get our packs and head to the bus station. Way too short, but a good initial exposure to the small port city of Aqaba.

The bus ride back to Amman followed the Desert Highway, a supremely boring stretch of road that at least has the benefit of being a quick way to go. The bus was smoky and the seats weren’t that comfortable, but we endured. Got into Amman – said bye to Marcel, I’d miss his company – and ran into Yusuf, who drove us on our Jerash tour the previous week. He took me to the airport and I was there with some time to spare. Which was good, because it seemed they had moved up my flight to Cairo by a half-hour. I don’t like that – someone should have emailed me with that news.

Changed most of my Jordanian dinar into Egyptian pounds…spent most of the rest sampling the various food spots in the airport – not half bad. Also had loads of phone credits remaining and tried to run those down by calling friends and family all over the world, spoke with Bob in Bangkok, Ken in London, and Steve somewhere in Missouri. Then I got on my flight – which had been delayed to 8 p.m., the time I originally expected – and we took off soon afterward.

Egyptian Airways isn’t a stellar operator, but it was solid enough. Got into Cairo a bit after 9 p.m., was a bit concerned about visa procedures and long lines but it all went quite well. To be honest, from what I’d read I expected Indian-level crowds and chaos, but the airport was fairly calm.

Found a cheapish car ride to the downtown. The tout sat in the passenger seat – not something I normally like, the two guys could conceivably gang up on me. My knife was in the pack in the trunk, so I kept a pen in my hand in case something happened.

All that happened was that the tout fell right asleep and snored so loudly that it became a running joke between the driver and I for the next half-hour. I kicked myself for being paranoid…then again, it’d be hard to catch me napping.

Took a while to find my hotel, on Midan Talat Haarb. I finally rang the hotel – my Jordanian SIM roamed here – and they spoke with the tout. That still didn’t do it – I finally had to help them and insist that my hotel was right on Talat Haarb circle (midan). They drove there – I spotted the hotel. Slight torture after a long day. Egypt might not offer Indian-style craziness and unprediactability, but it could come pretty close sometimes.

Checked in. Room was in old building with ancient lift, but it was clean and fine. And only US$15 a night – talk about another difference with India, at least Mumbai, where this room would go for 5 times that price.

Was dying for a beer – my guidebook mentioned a couple places, walked around (without the book in hand, that would look too geeky) but couldn’t find them. Was a bit concerned as it was getting close to midnight, and wasn’t sure when things shut down. Finally came across Estoril, a place in an alleyway famed for being a writers/actors hangout. Classic joint – great bar, intriguing customers, and a friendly feel. The barman was dressed in a green tunic and had a turban of sorts – and looked a lot like I recall Anwar Sadat looking. I had a couple locally-produced Stellas and felt a whole lot better.

Funny thing about me – sometimes I worry that I won’t:

-find a good spot to eat
-find a good spot to have a beer
-find a decent place to sleep

…and yet, 15 minutes later I’m usually full/drunk/asleep. Perhaps it’s just DNA kicking in – we all worry to some extent about satisfying our lower Maslow urges. But I think I worry too much, especially given my unmatched track record for filling my gut and resting my head. I could probably parachute into nearly anyplace in the world and be sitting, having a beer, within 30 minutes.

Saw a number of American cars on the street. A Chevy Frontera, a Chrysler Sebring, a Concorde of whatever maker. So we are selling a few of our cars overseas, after all. Nearly every other place I’d been, Toyota was kicking our ass.

Cairo was a lot tidier than Mumbai. Not that clean, to be sure, and not that calm…but it seemed to be a walkable and liveable city. The economy did appear pretty creaky – one sign was that about half the cars driving that night had no lights or parking lights on, a consistent sign that people are conserving energy even at the risk of being involved in an accident. I kept to the sidewalks and kept an eye out.

Cairo is also surprisingly conservative. Nearly all the women wear headscarves – far higher rate that in Turkey or in Jordan. And many guys have a calloused forehead, from praying all the time. Hadn’t seen that before. Hmmm. Perhaps my prior concern about finding a watering hole was warranted, after all.

Went to the Indian Consulate the next morning to try, yet again, for my visa. Filled out some forms, submitted my letters and two photos, and paid a bit of money. The clerk told me that they’d have to correspond with the Indian Embassy in Washington, which would probably take 72 hours, and after that, assuming a go, I’d have to return, hand in my passport, and they’d do the stamp etc. So two more trips to get the visa. This was getting old. I’d better get this visa or I will be very bad company. ‘Nuff said.

That did affect my Egypt travel plans – now will have to get all the way down to Abu Simbel, on the Sudanese border, pronto, and then get back to Egypt within a week. Went and bought a pricey flight ticket to Abu Simbel for Friday morning. Egypt Air’s office was nearby and fairly efficient – more so than the Indian Consulate/Embassy. Are the gods trying to tell me something??

Spent a couple hours in the afternoon at the Egyptian Museum, a renowned collection of the country’s unparalleled treasures. The collection is indeed inestimable, but the museum itself seems to me to be more of a warehouse than a great museum – the labeling and presentation of most items is minimal and, to be honest, a bit lackluster. You’d think by the 21st century, about 150 years after Egypt established its antiquities board and started formalizing its collection, they’d have a world-class building and museum. One is on the books – the Great Egyptian Museum is planned, but who knows when ground will even be broken and when the project will be finished? For the time being, bring your glasses and some aspirin, because you’ll be doing lots of squinting at the labels.

And there are students everywhere, sketching loads of pieces. Why not put them to work creating new, readable descriptions of the pieces? I don’t know that the country needs more sketches of its artwork, even in the service of helping train new artists, biologists, etc. – tourism is critical for Egypt and I think they need to upgrade things like this.

All that said, the Egyptiam Museum has some awesome stuff. There’s a room of mummified animals – a 6-foot-long Nile Perch, a bull, a horse, some cats, and a couple crocodiles that just blew me away. I’d never seen anything like that.

But the topper was the special collection of Royal Mummies. A surcharge applied, of course – the Museum has learned the art of correctly charging/overcharging foreigners. Anyway, well worth it – the 3500-year-old mummy of Ramses II was in there, along with about 10 other mummies of pharaohs (Tuthmosis III, etc.) and some other prominent figures and officials. Most were well-preserved and you can actually imagine them alive today. Wow – a must-see, and I like to think I don’t overuse that term.

What else? Drivers here are insane, I didn’t know 4-cylinder bars could go this fast. The Nile is a huge, imposing river – far more impressive than the River Jordan. I’ll provide some pics next week.

The Ramses Hilton (love the name) sits beside the Nile, and is a spectacularly grey and ugly edifice. Reminds me of the Sydney (downtown) Hilton, another property that has the power to depress upon sight.

Went out for a beer last night – was accosted by Nadeer, a local who was formerly married to a woman from South Carolina, and whose 3 kids are in the States. He sells fragrances and oils…managed to convince me to check out his little shop, which was near the bar I sought. He ingratiated himself by showing me the location of the bar, which had previously eluded me. Talk about a great salesman – I am perhaps the world’s most shopping/buying-averse individual, but he talked me into buying a small $10 bottle of lotus oil, which, I admit, smells terrific. Not sure if I’ll use it myself or give it to a lass – I had one or two in mind. Hopefully it won’t leak all over my stuff in transit – thankfully friend Dri gave me a load of ziplock bags when we met in Turkey. Those things are more useful than money, sometimes.

After buying the oil, and feeling a bit of post-purchase dissonance (oh well – only $10), I went into Cafeteria Stella, a decidedly blokes-only dive where I had a beer and ate chickpeas for a half-hour. What a collection of global souls – reminded me of Leopold’s in Mumbai, but more downscale and desperate. There was a black dude in there, with Nubian features – a few Egyptian ‘businessmen’ – and some people of indeterminate origin. I must have been quite a sight to them as well!

Back to Estoril for another drink. The Sadat lookalike was still tending bar, and the people-watching was still terrific. This place really reminds me of Casa Armas in Manila, the bar is the source of much merriment and most of the customers appear to be regulars. And it occurs to me that this entry is full of analogies – my lengthy travels must be yielding some fruit, they say that thinking metaphorically is a higher-order level of thought than the usual ‘me want beer, me want girl’ sort of brainwaves I’m usually experiencing.

What else? Hillary Clinton might be the next U.S. Secretary of State. I like that call. The Egyptian pound’s subset/penny is the piaster – I love that old French term, it’s in some Steely Dan song that I can’t remember right now. Noticed that a fraternity borther put one of our fraternity composites (photos of all the brothers that year) on Facebook – pretty funny. Elicited a bunch of comments. Got an email from old friend/frat bro Art in Budapest, whom I visited a while back – he just read Henry Miller’s ‘Tropic of Cancer’ and chimed in that Miller believed that the two key things to remember were that you must keep evolving, and that stagnation is the worst crime you can commit. I tend to agree.

Oh yeah – I also finished Junot Diaz’s ‘The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao’ and thought it was unlike anything I’ve ever read. Terrific voice, and great story. Highly recommended.

Visited the Pyramids and Sphinx today. But will put that in next week’s entry – having Petra and the Pyramids in the same entry amounts to photosensory overload. So sit tight. Over and out.

Wound things up in Turkey.  Was looking forward to warmer weather ahead in Jordan – the chilly air was making me particularly lazy.  Hadn’t done an ounce of exercise in days, weeks even – and I was starting to get annoyed with myself.

Finished ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ by Elizabeth Gilbert.  This book was at the top of the bestseller lists a year or two ago – usually a strike against a book, but in this case it was not.  I half-expected it to be too chicky/whiny…but the author is quite talented and had terrific insights about the places she visited.  The integrating theme seemed a bit forced at the start, but she held things together nicely and what emerged was a thoughtful work about the joys and value of travel…and about how it can help free your tortured soul.  A great travel yarn, with a bit of spirituality thrown in for good measure.  Recommended.

Also started checking out my Jordan country guidebook – seems there’s a fair amount to see.  Not that surprising, given the antiquity of the place and its sites.  Hopefully two weeks will do the trick – given what’s going on these days, I might be facing a somewhat constrained timetable.  I might even need to start treating my country visits like normal people do their holidays…

My last act of tourism in Ankara was a quick trip to the wonderfully-named Museum of Anatolian Civilizations.  Some great stuff in there, including some tablets with the Legend of Gilgamesh and various items from around 5,000-7,000 B.C.  Anatolia is an ancient land and its treasures are manifest.

Didn’t know before visiting this museum that the Gilgamesh legend supposedly took place near Gaziantep.  Sounds like that city is missing a marketing pitch – at least a pitch to geeks who’ve heard of Gilgamesh.

Also was reminded of what a job the Mongols did on these lands – they wasted 80% of Anatolia, as well as smashing the Baghdad Caliphate and hastening the decline of the Muslim world.  That was back around 1250 A.D.  Hmm.

Saw a restaurant called Kebabistan.  Enticing, but I had some errands to do.  Had a rough time finding an internet café with a working printer – had to visit 3 joints to find one.  I had 3 e-tickets to print out for upcoming flights.  Finally took care of that, and was worn out from the experience.  Lay back in my hotel and started a new book, ‘The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao,’ by Junot Diaz.  Engrossing story about an obese Dominican immigrant who’s a role-playing/Dungeons & Dragons dork.  Diaz weaves in lots of Tolkien terms and references – funny to see Trujillo’s DR compared to Mordor.  So far, loving this book.

Last night in Turkey, after 6 weeks there.  Took a cab to the ritzy/international part of town, Kavaklidere.  En route saw Ataturk’s Mausoleum lit up – emblematic of Turkey and a nice memory of the place.

Walked around the district for a while.  Had a couple beers at Bar Gitanes, one of those places where they bring you snacks without asking – usually a very bad sign.  And there was a torch singer/synthesizer duo on stage – more bad news.  Still, I was thirsty and decided to hang out for a bit.  Tab wasn’t that ugly – about US$6-7 per beer.  There are stories about tourists getting monstrous bills at Turkish nightclubs – but those are the types of places where girls come and sit by you and ask for drinks.  If you ever find yourself stuck in that sort of place, be very sure to first ask the price of every single thing before they bring it to you.  A bottle of champagne can go for US$500, or more.

Wound up having dinner at Tapa Tapa Tapas, a – wait for it – Spanish-style place with perfectly respectable albondigas (meatballs) and other assorted snacks.  I guess I was sick of heavy Turkish food by that point…so opted for heavy Spanish food.  Do you think that you can get electronic shock therapy to help become a vegetarian?

Hit the sack early, for once.  Had to get up at 4:15 a.m. to head to the airport.  I was flying via Istanbul to Amman, Jordan, using frequent flyer miles.  Of course, that meant that I had to catch an ungodly early flight to Istanbul, then sit there for hours before connecting.  Oh well.  Obama was Pres-Elect and I had love in my heart.  Or something like that.

This was my first flight in ages – since August 18^th, a lifetime ago, when I’d flown from Tashkent to Kyiv.  Really, that does seem like the distant past.

Managed to get up and get to the Ankara airport, which was nice and calm at this hour.  Nothing like Tashkent’s unholy hell.  Ankara has 4-5 million souls but still seems half-deserted at times.  I don’t mind deserted airports, particularly early in the morning when the power of speech seems elusive.

Got to Istanbul.  Four-hour layover there.  Went pretty quickly.  Read the local English newspaper and Time Magazine – Obama galore.  And found a duty-free store which had my long-sought lightweight daypack, to replace the one I’ve been having stitched up for ages.  About 12 Euros – this one seems superior to my current model, which, to be fair, I bought a year and a half ago in Phnom Penh, and was never built for the uses I put it to.

So it was farewell to Turkey, a country I’d greatly enjoyed.  But it was also time to move on.  Had an easy flight to Amman, less than two hours.  Time to get into the Jordanian swing of things – which, at first, meant standing in a long line to get a visa stamp.  Slight torture, but I wasn’t in a real hurry.

Took a bus into the city.  Disembarked when told to – didn’t seem we were really in the city yet, it was pretty wide open, but this was apparently the closest point to downtown, where I’d be staying.  Flagged down a cab.  Major torture ensued.  The cabbie hadn’t heard of my hotel – which was prominently mentioned in my guidebook, so I’d assumed it would be popular and known to cabbies.  Nope.  I had the guidebook map and street name…but I guess they change street names often.  Later on, I’d realize that he was clueless – the street name hadn’t changed.

He did ask a bunch of other drivers, and people on the street, none of whom knew the place.  I asked him to use the Arabic name – not sure he did that, but anyway we were lost.  I finally had him drop me at the King Hussein Mosque, which looked pretty close to my hotel on my map.  Walked around – didn’t see the hotel.  Wandered into another hotel and asked if they’d heard of the Palace Hotel.  The guy at the desk was helpful – he knew it, and drew me a simple map.  Thanked him and walked off.  Came back a half-hour later, not having found it.  He giggled a bit, and had his bellhop show me the way.  Truth be told, it was well-hidden, inside an alleyway.  I tipped the bellhop and was finally able to relax.

I was starting to think that Turkey was Middle East Lite, and that I was now in the real deal.  Jury’s still out, but I just might be right about that.

The Palace Hotel was OK – mediocre rooms, but the price was right and it seemed to be a great place to join tours of nearby sites, one of my aims.  The guy at the front desk wasn’t that helpful – couldn’t answer any of my 5 initial questions, which spanned:

-getting a local SIM card

-seeing if they ran tours to Damascus, as I’d heard they did this

-signing up for a tour of Jerash and other nearby sites

-finding a good international medical center to get a yellow fever booster (more on this soon)

-finding the Indian Embassy to get an entry visa

He did tell me where I could find a beer, at the nearby Jordan Bar.  And near the bar was Hashem Restaurant, an alleyway place with great hummus and falafel.  So I started there…

After lubricating my liver, I felt a bit more relaxed.  A long day, though – from my 4:15 a.m. bell, through two flights and a long layover, concluding with the cab ride from hell.  Meant to go out that night – it was Saturday – but first needed a bit of rest.  Lay down at 7 p.m., set my alarm for 9 p.m.  And woke up the next morning at 7 a.m.  Oh well.  I sometimes do this – and I guess I needed it.  Missed a night out, but promised myself I’d make it up at some point.  New friend Brian (from Turkey adventures) had told me about a nightclub called Nai – wanted to check that out.

Had breakfast, then checked at the front desk about the local tour.  That seemed OK for the next day, so I decided to see Amman today.

The woman now at the front desk was very nice and quite helpful.  I shouldn’t rag too much on the nighttime guy, he was nice enough and also seemed highly devout – saw him praying a few times.  I also should have prayed – for him to answer at least a couple of my questions.  Ouch!

Followed the walking tour outlined in my guidebook – which sometimes results in lost hours and wasted time, but this tour was fairly easy to follow.  Along the way, I:

-had a ridiculously sweet dish called kanafa, at Habiba sweet shop in a small alley near Arab Bank

-walked around a well-preserved Roman Theater right in town

-checked out some cool photos of old Amman at a small museum at the Roman Theater – the city seemed a lot more relaxed and clean back then

-visited the hilltop Citadel, which besides having stupendous views of the city, and some decent ruins, also had the terrific National Archeological Museum which featured several bits of the Dead Sea Scrolls, and some 8,000+-year-old statues – the museum itself was small and modest, in a Western country this collection would be housed in a palace

I noticed early on that Amman has that smell in the air.  A bit like India, and the first time since I’d been in India…even Turkey didn’t have much of an aroma.  I kind of missed this, and I smiled when I made the connection.  Pattern recog, baby, that’s what it’s all about…

Took a cab over to semi-ritzy Abdoun Circle for a late lunch.  Found an Asian place called NoodAsia – hate the name, but it looked good and I went it.  Nearly the entire staff was Filipino – pretty funny.  I guess Pinoys know English and have a customer service mentality – two things the locals here lack.  So it made sense.

Had a temaki (hand roll) and some beef kway teoh noodles – both excellent.  Had really missed ‘real Asian food.’  Noodles, fish, soups – much lighter and healthier than the fare I’d been living on lately.  Good change of pace – not that I’d be keeping it up for long.

Had a few errands to run, per my list of 5 questions above.  First, wanted to see if I could get a yellow fever booster shot – India requires these if you’ve been in Africa, and I’d be in Egypt before flying to Mumbai in early December.  I got a yellow fever jab in Joburg back in January 1999, and they are rated for 10 years, so I’d probably be OK for this trip to India…but wanted to get ahead of the curve in case more trips followed.

Had heard of the Al-Khalidi Medical Center, affiliated with Mass General, I believe.  Went there – found a doc who spoke English – but they didn’t have this vaccine in stock.  He wrote down another place, a hospital run by the Health Ministry, took a longcab ride over there.  Cabbie picked his gargantuan nose the entire time – for a moment I thought I was back in Brooklyn.  Resolved to give him exact change – wasn’t keen to get any bills or coins back from that hand.

The second hospital, Al-Bashir, was even less useful.  Total confusion…almost no English signs or speakers…no hope whatsoever.  Plus I wasted more than an hour finding the emergency room – seriously.  Only to be told by an English-speaking fellow there (I think he was ad administrator) that they didn’t have yellow fever vaccine.  Torture.  I bailed…and resolved to get the booster in Mumbai, where I’d at least have 1) support and 2) English at hand.

Very hard to get things done here in the Middle East.  And Jordan is relatively calm and organized.  Things seem to happen in slo mo.  I was starting to despair, but eventually I began getting traction.  I got a SIM card…I tracked down the Indian Embassy, near Amman’s First Circle (I think there are 7 traffic circles in Amman, these are major reference points…and remind me of Dante).  Had to visit this Embassy the following day to get going on my Indian entry visa.  I was hopeful this process would go smoothly and not be any approximation of my most recent visa nightmare, the Uzbekistan near-fiasco.

Also found an English newspaper, the Jordan times, and read that.  Was starting to settle into local life a bit more.

While walking around, an impish little boy tossed an empty cup at my feet.  Glanced off my shoe – no damage.  The father apologized profusely…I smiled and laughed, a real laugh.  Then I knew that I was starting to relax and not worry so much about vaccines and visas, two of the major pressure points in my life these days.

Did a bit of exercise in the hotel room.  Then walked over to the Jordan bar for a couple beers.  My routine was coming together – after the beer, went to the nearby alley for a couple excellent falafel sandwiches.  When I was just out of university, I used to make falafel (from mix, of course) because it was pretty tasty and super-cheap.  But the falafel over here is just unbeatable – and is still super-cheap.  I can’t get enough of it.  Also serves as a good meat substitute – its filling and has a texture which is semi-meaty.

Had an apple juice at the Palestine Juice Center, one of many fresh juice places around town.  They don’t seem to have pomegranates – too bad, those were one of Turkey’s best offerings.

Read about Obama picking Rahm Emmanuel as his chief of staff.  Not a popular pick here – his dad is an Israeli doctor and the Rahmster is not exactly neutral on Middle East politics.  We’ll see where this goes.

Next day, joined a small group from the hotel for a tour of Jerash and other sites.  Our driver was the humorous Yusuf; there was also Andres from Barcelona, Marcel from Holland, and Pascal from Quebec.  Pretty fun group – lots of busting going on.

First went to Umm Qais, a collection of ruins from where you can see the Sea of Gallillee/Lake Tiberias and the Golan Heights – impressive views

From there we drove to Ajlun Castle, built by the Crusaders in the Middle Ages.  Yusuf got pulled over en route and got a speeding ticket.  We felt bad for him, but were soon teasing him mercilessly.

Finally wound up in Jerash, one of the best-preserved Roman cities in the region.  A fair few tourists running around, but nothing like Ephesus in Turkey – and I dare say that Jerash was even more impressive, the spread was larger and the impression greater.

Throughout the day Marcel and I were hitting it off well – and it turned out that we had arrived in Amman the same night and had nearly the same itinerary planned.  So we decided to travel together for a while, till we either got sick of one another or our plans diverged.  Good to have a sidekick, and nice to be able to split travel costs.

Jordan is much cheaper than Turkey, primarily in transport – petrol seems somewhat cheaper, and there are a zillion taxis eager for business.  Not that much of a public transport system, but the taxis are really cheap and most people hire them to get around the country…which is quite small, much smaller than vast Turkey with its 10-hour bus rides.

After the day tour, took Marcel and Pascal to the Jordan Bar for a few beers.  Then Marcel and I went to Blue Fig, an expat/chi-chi café near Abdoun Circle.  Turns out Marcel was in Japan a few months back, and went to Takayama, one of my favorite spots in Japan.  He even hung out at Red Hill Pub, one of the bars I love most in the world.  Talk about a small world…

After dinner we walked to Abdoun Circle for a drink, and wound up in an ‘Arabic Nightclub’ called Deep Blue.  Again, one of those places where you sit down and they bring over snacks, unbidden.  But this place also had the girls coming over to you, bugging you for drinks.  Seemed most of the lasses were from Morocco – must be hard times over there.  We chatted with a few of the girls but didn’t buy them drinks – they didn’t seem to mind.  Final tab wasn’t cheap, but nothing we couldn’t handle.

I was a bit tired from the day, but Marcel was getting a second wind and seemed happy to have someone to drink with.  So we asked a cabbie to take us to a good place, and he drove out out to the posh Shmeisani ‘hood, where we went into another nightclub, I think called Oscar.  A veritable wall of Arabic sound, where we were ushered to a booth and plied with ‘free’ snacks.  I was somewhat apprehensive about a major-league rip-off in process…but the place turned out to be genuine and full of pretty cool locals who found us hilarious.  More Moroccan ladies came over – we danced with some of them – the crooner came over and sang to us – we spent a lot of loot.  Still, not that outrageous in the grand scheme of things.  And we had a great time – lots of drinks, cozying up to the ladies, and getting a reasonable sense of how Arabic guys with a bit of money have fun at night.  Hopefully I’ll have more of these nights before leaving the region…the fun here is much more undercover than even in Turkey, so you have to look for it and ask around.  But it is generally open to foreigners, as long as you don’t mind spending a bit and trying to fit in.  That’s me…

Got up way too early next next morning, with a solid hangover, and headed to the Indian Embassy to get my visa going.  Warning: torture up ahead.  I walked up to the desk and explained my situation…she reviewed my passport, noticing two Indian visas already in there…then told me that I’d need a formal invitation letter from the company in India, and a personal letter explaining my reason for the proposed trip.  Ugh.  I asked about a simple tourist visa – she said that wouldn’t work, as I already had two Indian visas recently.  I thought that was ridiculous – India’s a place with a huge amount of sites, and a few trips are needed to see the key places.  She agreed with me, but that was their policy – which in effect was, ‘who would be crazy enough to go back to India after one trip there?’  Classic.

Wouldn’t be that hard turning the invite letter around, but I’d now have to return to the Embassy twice more – for drop-off and pick-up.  And I was leaving Amman in a few hours, to head to Madaba.  I walked off in a crap mood, and reviewed my options.  Decided to get the two letters going – wrote the drafts at a computer at the hotel, and sent them off to the company in Mumbai.  Decided to return two mornings hence from Madaba to Amman, only an hour ride each way – not super-painful.  That should get things back on track.

Checked out of the hotel, and took a taxi with Marcel to Madaba, a small mellow town south of Amman that’s used often as a jumping-off point for the Dead Sea and other nearby sites.  Got to Madaba early afternoon…checked into the very accommodating Mariam Hotel, where it seems all foreigners stay, meet, and tour the area from.  Tracked down an awesome falafel shop and gorged.  Visited the local sights – a few nice churches and an ancient map of the region, done in mosaic form.  Thought about going for a swim in the hotel pool but it was too chilly.  Slept for two hours – visiting an Embassy has that effect on me.

Got up and checked emails.  The hotel had wireless, seemed there was nothing the hotel lacked.  It’s run by local Arab Christians – Madaba has lots of them and they’re great proprietors.  Saw that new friend Beril in Turkey commented on my recent blog post – and told me that in Van, in far east Turkey, locals killed 44 goats in honor of Obama being elected the U.S.A.’s 44^th president.  She also put the website with various Obama goat photos in her comment – you can see it in the comments section of my blogsite, check it out, the pics are something else.

Yesterday Marcel and I took the ‘big tour’ around the Madaba area with a few other tourists, Dutch (like Marcel) and Spanish.  The tour included:

-Mt. Nebo, from where Moses saw the Promised Land, then died.  Great views west to Israel…but a bit churchy for me.  I’m not here to see Christian sites, or Islamic ones for that matter – I’d rather see much older stuff.

-Bethany-Beyond-the Jordan – I know what I just wrote, but this was actually pretty interesting, it’s supposedly the place where John the Baptist baptized Jesus.  They only found the site a few years ago.  It’s on the Jordan River, which is a pretty sad sight, at least right here – no more than a few meters across.  The river has shifted over the years, and the baptism site is now mostly dry, with biblical flies swarming you.  For me the highlight was seeing Israel just a few meters away – there’s also a similar site on the Israel side, we waved to the tourists over there.  Felt like I could jump over the Jordan and land in Israel – full of bullets, of course.  I won’t get to Israel for another 6 weeks or so…but it will be worth the wait, I’m sure.

-Driving down the Dead Sea Highway, we passed some massive resorts – the Movenpik, the Marriott, and a couple others.  Nice, but not that exciting.  Good refuge, methinks.

-The Dead Sea.  Hugely entertaining.  We swam at ‘Amman Beach,’ a public section of the sea.  Cousin Mikey had emailed me earlier, telling me not to pee before getting into the salty water – he’d done that and suffered.  I took his advice, and had even deferred shaving my face and getting a haircut.  Swimming in the Dead Sea is perhaps a cliché, but incredibly odd and fun anyway.  I felt like I was in NASA weightlessness training – after getting to waist depth, you start to bob up slightly, and eventually you need to lay on your back – half your body remains above the water, and there you are.  I felt like a little kid and kicked around for at least 45 minutes.  A bit of water got in my mouth and it felt like I’d had 10 margaritas.

Avoided getting a mudpack there – many tourists went in for one, but it looked like a pain to me.  I did have a nice buffet lunch, though – I needed to get the salty taste out of my mouth.

-Final stop:  the Dead Sea Panorama, a hilltop overlooking the sea with a decent little museum with descriptions and exhibits from the area.

Was fairly tired after the long day, but also in a state of minor exhilaration from the ‘swim.’

Checked email and noticed that the India visa request letter had already come back – found a web café and printed it out.  Got a haircut.  Booked a taxi to take me back to Amman, to again visit the Indian Embassy.  Met Marcel for some local beers, and for dinner.  Relaxed and watched the dismal economic news on the BBC.  Just when you’re in a good mood from what you’ve done all day, the news of the world is there to set you straight…

Got up early today and went to the Indian Embassy in Amman.  My cabbie was a warm guy who laughed a lot, barely spoke English, and often patted my shoulder and hand.  Got to the Embassy, while it was raining, right at 9 a.m.  Went up to the gate – it was still closed.  Checked my watch – just past 9.  Then I saw a notice on the gate – ‘Guru Nanak Birthday – 13/11/08 – Embassy Closed.’  No fucking way.  I know about Guru Nanak, the founder of the Sikh religion – certainly worthy of a holiday, but I was in India the past two Novembers and never heard a peep about this holiday, and now could not believe it was biting me in the ass.  I’d expressly come back to Amman for my visa, and was now, again, being denied.  Now I was really angry.

But what could I do?  I finally decided, fuming in the cab back to Madaba, to blow off any further attempt in Amman and just wait till I got to Cairo to get this going.  It would be a bit tight, and I’d need to have Mumbai touch base with the Cairo Embassy to ensure 1) no holidays/surprises upcoming and 2) opening hours matched my sked.  I simply refused to consider two more trips to Amman, from farther south in Jordan – too time-consuming and costly.  I am the king at making lemonade out of lemons…we’ll have to see if I can keep doing so.

Oh well.  I already knew that India’s not a user-friendly place.  It’s just that I’ve always gotten Indian visas rather easily – granted, travel agents in accommodating places like Bangkok or the States took care of the torture for me.  Talk about good value – going to Embassies yourself is really just not worth it, if you can at all avoid it.  Here, in the Middle East, you can’t avoid it.

My cabbie tried to cheer my up on the ride back to Madaba.  All the while I was working through the timing implications on my Treo, finally coming up with a workable timetable for shifting from Jordan to Cairo and going to the Indian Embassy there.  Feels like I’m starting work already…

Got back to the hotel.  Checked out.  Collected Marcel, then we got in a cab that would take us south, to the village of Dana, visa a few sites on the way.  First, we stopped at Mukawir, King Herod’s castle where his step-daugher Salome danced for him and asked for John the Baptist’s head on a platter.  Granted.  Here’s the dance floor:

Mukawir has a history like Masada’s – the Jews held out here in 72 A.D. until the Romans built a ramp (you can see the rubble on the west side of the hill – but not much left) and took the hilltop.  And the cave photo above is of one of several caves below the castle, one of these is where they beheaded John the Baptist.  Gnarly.

Next, heading south on the King’s Highway, the Grand Canyon of Jordan, Wadi Mujib – fairly impressive sight.  The river flowing through the wadi has been dammed, and the river now barely flows to the Dead Sea – which, as we saw at twilight, has shrunken dramatically at the south end and is a deeply depressing sight.  Aral Sea, anyone.

After that, visited Karak Castle, built by the Crusaders.  Large and impressive.  Taken by Saladdin and his boys in the 12th century.

Finally, just as the sun was setting, we got to the southern end of the Dead Sea, and visited Lot’s Cave, where we and his two daughters fled after the destruction of Sodom & Gomorrah, and his wife’s conversion to a salt shaker.  Recall the biblical tale:  his two daughters got him drunk and screwed him, and his line was thus able to continue.  I really should pick up an Old Testament, there are some crazy stories in there.

We had a fair walk up the hill to the cave.  It was now past 5 p.m. and the place was closed/empty – Marcel and I skirted a ‘closed’ sign and went up to the cave, which was fairly cool – nothing inside, of course, but it felt historic and ancient.  Had to see this place while in the neighborhood.  It was pitch black as we made our way back down to our taxi – good little adventure to end the day.  Lot himself would have been proud…

Saw the full moon as we drove another 45 minutes to the village of Dana, from where I sit and write this entry.  My hotel, the aptly named Dana Hotel, is a solid little place where I’ll spend just one night before moving on to famed Petra tomorrow.  Look for some great photos in next week’s entry – Petra is one of the world’s most photogenic places, even when the camera-wielder is yours truly.  Over and out.

There’s no use being coy here – we all know THE story of the week.  But in case you’ve been hiding in a cave somewhere in eastern Turkey, here it is:

‘The marijuana reform movement won two prized victories, with Massachusetts voters decriminalizing possession of small amounts of the drug and Michigan joining 12 other states in allowing use of pot for medical purposes.  Henceforth, people caught in Massachusetts with an ounce or less of pot will no longer face criminal penalties. Instead, they’ll forfeit the marijuana and pay a $100 civil fine.’

About 20 years too late, but at least the Commonwealth of Massachusetts is starting to look truly liberal and ‘socially democratic,’ a la some of the European countries.  And it now may be time to get back into Krispy Kreme shares – imagine the donuts put away by the police confiscating said pot.  You heard it here first.

In other news, there was a Presidential election too.  I’ll talk about this right here, then backtrack and tell you what I’ve been up to all week.

A few days before I got to Ankara, from where I sit and type this post, I managed to track down some eminences from Democrats Abroad Turkey, who told me that the US Embassy and the Turkish-American Association were co-sponsoring an Election Night bash.  I was hoping there would be some sort of event for Election Night…but feared that our increasingly cash-strapped government wouldn’t bother to fund anything and that I’d be forced to sit in some godforsaken tavern trying to convince the barman to change the channel from the local soccer game to CNN or BBC.

So I had a place to go for the night.  The party itself was very well done – the Sheraton Ankara put on a buffet dinner, the US Ambassador to Turkey, H.E. Ross Wilson, gave a short speech, and there was a panel of speakers who talked about the campaign.  Fairly informative.  And there was lots of beer and wine, so by the time the coverage began, around 11 p.m. local time, we were well-lubricated.

I met some good people during the dinner and panel – Beril, a Turkish woman who works for the International Republication Institute (but who seemed to be very centrist in her views), Dillon, a New Orleanean who works for a consulting outfit in Rotterdam, and a few others.

The locals’ perspective was interesting.  Apparently Obama has pledged to Armenia/Armenians to formally declare the WWI situation there a genocide, whereas McCain has not.  So many Turks disagree with Obama there…but at the same time, Turkey borders Iraq and it seems most Turks think the US has really screwed up vis-à-vis the Arab/Muslim world.  Hours before the party, I had a brief chat in my guesthouse – the owner, a friendly fellow who’s accustomed to hosting us Westerners, vented about the Bush Administration and the long memories of Arabs, whom he said would never forget what the U.S. has been up to in Iraq etc. and would one day get revenge.  Chilling – this guy is a moderate, but he claims to know the Arab mindset and he seemed pretty credible to me.  Needless to say, he was going for Obama…

Started watching the election coverage on CNN.  The TAA is a large place, and they had a few large-screen TVs set up around the second-floor room where the party was being held.  There was also a laptop with a big screen and we used that for auxiliary info.  The initial returns were slow and somewhat disturbing – Kentucky and Indiana led off and McCain got off to an early lead.  Also, the CNN talking heads were annoying and there were lots of commercials – I was on the edge of my seat, along with Beril and Dillon, waiting for some good news.

Slowly but surely, the tide turned.  The Northeastern states all went for Obama, as did most of the Midwestern states.  But the popular vote remained very close, and I wondered about the Bradley effect.  And given the automatic Southern vote for McCain, things were up in the air till the early hours of the morning (our Nov 5^th), when some big battleground states started going Obama’s way.  Pennsylvania was absolutely huge…then Ohio went for Obama, and eventually Florida did as well.  That seemed to be the kicker, and after that it was mostly a question of Electoral College vote margin and popular vote margin, both of which widened nicely towards the end of the voting.  Turned out to be a landslide – I think that Obama got more votes than any candidate in history.  OK, the population has been growing, but the bigger driver in my opinion is that voter registration rose sharply this cycle and that most registered voters actually turned out.  This is one of my pet issues – the Bush Admin’s Justice Dept has been actively suppressing voter reg, playing up the ‘voter fraud’ card.  This election helped vindicate my faith in American democracy – millions of new voters were registered, and most of them voted.  Not sure about the percentages…but I do know that about a third of American adults were not registered before this campaign, and that’s a huge number.  So progress is being made.

Dillon took off in the wee hours to return to his hotel, sleep a bit then watch the results.  I had always intended to remain at the bash all night, as I had nothing to do the next day but sleep.  Beril was funny – she hadn’t planned to stay, but gave in and sat next to me for hours and hours, watching the TV and my constant refreshing of CNN.com, which had the popular vote totals.

As for the election of Barack Obama, our first black President, enough cannot be said.  Many were the doubters…toxic were the accusations and claims hurled his way…and sweet was his victory.  The man was on the right side of history…to have elected an elderly white man would have been the wrong decision.  I’m not saying American is in the clear yet, when it comes to big issues and questions – we did elect Bush twice, after all.  But at this point I’ll take a step on the path forward…

And Obama’s election will have a quick, profound effect on our image out here.  From what I can see, Turks are starting to think about America differently.  But it’s early days and not much data is available just yet.  Needless to say, I (and most of my friends and family) are jazzed about Obama and we can’t wait to throw Bush out and get on with the repair work.  That won’t be easy or pretty, but at least the torpor of the past 8 years will be behind us.  What a disaster.  A poll of historians taken recently already judged Bush to have been the worst President in U.S. history.  People who cast a vote for him (particularly in 2004) need to ask themselves what the hell they were thinking.  I don’t mean to be arrogant, or to imply that these people have something wrong with them…it’s just that our votes are precious and fragile things, and when you’re standing in front of your maker, or when you’re merely recalling the past when you’re getting on in years – do you think you’ll be proud to say you voted for George W. Bush??

As we watched Obama’s acceptance speech, I had tears in my eyes.  And so did Beril – we sort of glanced at one another, then away.  I guess crying is a sensitive act and perhaps it’s against our genetic programming to do much of it in public…

I can safely say this was one of the most memorable nights in my life.  And compared with others that come to mind, one of the least controversial…

My brief election post-mortem:

Given Bush’s unpopularity and the economic mayhem, 2008 didn’t offer many opportunities for the GOP.  Congress was going to become much more Democratic – the only question was the size of the gain.  But the Presidency is a popularity contest between two individuals, and McCain was probably the best person the GOP could have nominated – fairly moderate, someone who had a history of criticizing his own party and President, and a real wild-card in terms of risk-taking and personality.  And I think he had a very good shot at winning this race until the stockmarket cratered in September/October – he reacted foolishly and the wheels came off his campaign.  Until then, it was a toss-up.  It still was far from clear whether many Americans would vote for a black man for President, despite all the progress of the past 4 decades.

I also think that McCain shot himself in the foot by selecting Sarah Palin.  He made a mockery of his ‘experience’ claim with this pick…and he also looked shallow (Hillary Clinton supporters will vote for any another woman, right?) and at odds with his ‘country first’ message (putting America in Palin’s hands wasn’t exactly reassuring).  Locking in the far right was the main aim in selecting Palin, and that worked pretty well.  She also energized the campaign for a few weeks and raised questions about Obama’s decision to pick Biden, not Clinton, as his Veep candidate.  But her lack of experience and her general cluelessness become obvious over time, and in this election I think doubling down on the moderate/independent vote made more sense than energizing the base/far-right.  Far-right voters not excited by the GOP ticket might not vote, they might just stay home – but under almost no circumstances would they vote for Obama…whereas centrist voters who weren’t turned on by Obama were in play and Palin did nothing for them.  I don’t have a good handle on the electoral math, but I suspect that if you track down the numbers and compare them, the election was largely decided by the independent voters and Obama did much better with them.

Obama did some other things quite well – he outflanked McCain on the tax front with his pledge to lower taxes for 95% of Americans, for example.  But at the end of the day, McCain had a good shot at the Presidency despite the awful environment for the GOP, until the stockmarket collapse and his selection of Palin sunk in.  For what it’s worth, I’m willing to lose a good bit of my portfolio to turn out the GOP – I think Obama will be good for the country over time and will help reverse a lot of the negative trends facing us.  But it will take time to clean up the mess and it won’t happen in just one term.  So be patient, friends.

BTW – I thought McCain’s speech on Election Night was well done.  He was thoughtful, classy, and gracious.  If this John McCain were more in evidence during the campaign, he would have done much better.  Maybe the general climate forced his hand, but you have to wonder why his handlers and strategists did what they did – the guy has a pulse, a sense of humor, and some wit.  Unleashing the core McCain would have been a better idea, methinks.  But we’ll never know.

After the all-nighter I stumbled back to my hotel and slept all day.  Am still feeling a bit off but my enthusiasm about the outcome is paramount and I’ll be fine after another nap or three…

What else?  I had a fairly peripatetic week, as usual.  Traveled from Sanliurfa to Mt. Nemrut, a well-known spot in eastern Turkey.  Stayed at Cesme Pension on the side of the mountain, 6 km from the summit.  Woke up early on Nomveber 1^st and walked to the top – took a couple hours but wasn’t too hard.

Had commenced my day, as usual, with a stint on the toilet.  I did not want to get caught out on the mountain and have to squat amongst the goats and bugs…so did my business first thing in the morning.  The problem was that it was earlier than I was used to, I hadn’t eaten that much the night before, and it was like orchestrating ships to pass through the Panama or Suez canal – moving locks and boats.  But I finally passed through to the other side and was lighter on my feet…

Mt. Nemrut’s summit is ringed by a bunch of statues put there by Commagene King Antiochus to commemorate his lineage – he believed the gods were his ancestors, and amongst the statues are those of Apollo and Hercules.  The heads have fallen off the statues and lie nearby – still impressive.  And the king built a tumulus/tomb of crushed rocks, perhaps 20 meters high – inside of which is believed to be his tomb and those of other relatives.  Not yet excavated, but there are plans to do so.  Would love to see what’s inside.

From the top you can (sort of) see some rivers and dammed lakes, part of the GAP/Ataturk Dam Project, which is a massive undertaking designed to bring water to this dry part of Turkey.  I hope we don’t see a repeat of the Aral Sea tragedy…

I had thought about bringing my iPod for the climb, but decided against it.  I wanted to have few distractions and experience the place for what it was…and I wanted to be able to think as well.  That was the proper call.  I was able to get a good sense of the place, and I did some thinking.  I thought about my mother as I climbed, and at the top – I often think about her when I’m on mountains.  I guess these places are the most isolated and peaceful, and perhaps the height brings me closer to her.

Lots of goats on the side of the mountain…and more ladybugs than I’ve ever seen.  Ladybugs are my favorite insects – don’t they bring good luck?  Maybe we can thank them for Obama’s victory…

There was a teahouse/cafeteria near the summit, I stopped in there en route to the summit, and again on my way down the mountain.  I told the guys there that I was Canadian – I hope I can start telling the truth now that Bush is almost gone.

When I stopped at the teahouse on the descent there were some fellows there sporting kaffiyeh – some were Kurdish Turks, others were Syrian.  The teahouse guy translated for us – we talked about the impending election.  They asked me, ‘Obama baba Muslim?’ Was Obama’s father a Muslim?  I said yes – they were very pleased about that.  Don’t underestimate the power of this sort of thing out here – I was asked that very question by several other people.

A few minutes later, I had this gang of Turkish Kurds and Syrians (I think some of them were village heads) chanting ‘O-ba-ma!’  Sitting near the summit of Mt. Nemrut, chanting ‘Obama’ – surreal.  But fitting.

On the walk back to the pension, I started feeling my age – sore legs and feet, slight headache.  To distract myself I chanted a Sanskrit word I’d learned a while back in India – ‘ham-sa,’ which means ‘I am that.’  Two syllables, it matches up well with a two-step.  That helped me get down the mountain without thinking about my aching feet the entire time.

Back at the pension – had a quick lunch.  This pension is OK, but not great – rooms are drab and worn, and you’re also at their mercy for food, the village is quite far off.  I wasn’t too thrilled with the meals and was happy to take off after the requisite couple days.

Watched some ‘Heroes’ as I recovered from the climb.  Season 2, I realized, was affected by the Hollywood writers’ strike and was only 11 episodes long.  Polished that off, and decided to check iTunes to download the first few episodes of Season 3 when I found a wireless connection.

The ‘chef’ at the pension asked me that night about Obama and his chances.  He’s Kurdish and I think sympathetic to the Armenians, so he wasn’t put off by that aspect of Obama and seemed to like Obama a lot.

Quietest Saturday night in memory.  Nothing to do at the pension, and no beer anywhere around.  I think at that point, between Sanluirfa and Mt. Nemrut, I’d only had one beer in five days.  Eastern Turkey isn’t the best place to get down…

After a couple days at Mt. Nemrut, I traveled to the city of Gaziantep, a sizeable place a few hours away.  Yet another city of a million or so residents that you’ve never even heard of.   Had to switch minivans twice to get there – three buses in all.  Got to the bus station, and immediately bought my Ankara ticket for the next evening.  Then took a cab to my hotel, Ulluloglu, a decent place right in the center.

Gaziantep was much more cosmopolitan than Sanliurfa – lots of food places, a few bars, and a good street scene.  Was dying for some real food, and choice, after two days on Mt. Nemrut stuck at the pension.  Had a kebap, and then walked to the well-known Imam Cagdas for some baklava – this place is renowned as the finest baklava place in all Turkey.  Their stuff is incredible – the baklava literally melts in your mouth and makes a ‘fizz’ sound as it melts – so fresh and sweet.   I was liking Gaziantep and its vibe.

Hotel had wireless, caught up on emails and also watched the Saturday Night Live skit with McCain and Palin (Tina Fey) doing their QVC appearance.  Very funny stuff – McCain has a pretty good stage presence and if he were this relaxed and funny all the time, he might have won the election.  I also like the fact that politics in the U.S. allows for these sorts of appearances – if we could get the warring factions in the Congo to appear on a nighttime comedy show, and mock themselves, then the world would be a much better place.  So good for McCain that he put himself out there and was comfortable teasing himself and his campaign.  Showed a level of maturity and levity that is often missing in politics.  I only hope that the Obama Admin doesn’t forbid parody and humor…he and his people are extremely organized and on message, and that sometimes sidelines any sense of fun.

Speaking of fun – Palin was prank-called by a Canadian comic pretending to be French President Sarkozy.  This was funny to listen to, but also a bit of a stunner – how on earth did Palin (and her handlers) allow this to happen?  Some of the things the Canadian guy said defied belief and any savvy pol would have called his bluff.  I imagine the Dems are saving this for 2012…

Did a bit of sight-seeing in Gaziantep.  The city museum has a great collection of mosaics found at a sight nearby:

The second photo is the famous ‘The Gipsy Girl.’  But they’re by no means sure of the subject – some even think it may be of Alexander the Great…

Walked around the city and looked for a place to eat.  There was a street vendor right in front of my hotel selling icli kofte – lamb meat in a shell of fried bulgur.  Absolutely delicious – ate a bunch and the cost was just a few lira.  Then had an ‘atom’ juice at a drinks shop – this is a mixture of banana, milk, nuts and whatever else they throw in there – again, very nice.

It was Sunday night so not much going on.  Walked by a number of bars, but they appeared to be of the sort I checked out weeks earlier in Bergama – heinous girlie bars where they send working girls to your table and try to get you to buy them drinks.  I wasn’t in the mood for that.  Was about to head back to my hotel when I heard music wafting from a second-story building – turned out to be a small music bar, Zilgit, upstairs.  I went up and got a table – the guitarist was playing Kurdish songs and I drank a couple beers and listened to him.  Smoky place, but relaxing.

Next morning, I checked out of my hotel.  My overnight bus to Ankara wasn’t leaving until 11:30 p.m., so had some time to hang out before then.  Walked over to the city castle – seems most Turkish cities are built in the shadows of hills with castles atop them.  Pretty cool.  It was a Monday and the castle was closed – so just went to a little place for lunch, had a shish kebab which was very filling.  Just sitting there under the gaze of the castle felt good…a quintessential Turkisk experience.  If the Turko-pop were a little less loud, I could have lingered there all day.

Listened to some podcasts and music.  I enjoy Washington Week, moderated by Gwen Ifill.  One of the panelists, Karen Tumulty of Time, is very savvy and I always learn a lot from listening to her.  Last episode before the election – everyone agreed it looked good for Obama.  One thing I like about this podcast is that it’s balanced – it’s produced by PBS and thus could be seen as leaning left, but the panelists are pretty centrist and they don’t seem to have any real agenda besides covering the issues.  Check it out.

Sat in the hotel lobby for a while doing some emails.  I’d gotten a couple phone calls regarding potential work opps, and had to send out some emails after those calls.  Also called United Airlines and booked a roundtrip flight between Cairo and Mumbai for early December.  Will tack on a weeklong stint in Goa after that – am finding that I miss Goa these days.

While I was sitting there, dressed like a hippy, making my Skype calls and checking email, the hotel reception guys were watching me.  I must have made quite the sight – dressed like a slob, but sitting there with an expensive sleek little laptop, making businss calls and acting like my old, machinelike work self.

After taking care of biz, walked over to Umit Kebap and had a filling iskender kebap.  That would tide me over till lunch the following day.

Before I knew it, the day was gone and I had to get on my bus.  This was my last overnight bus for a while, most likely.  Busing is the way to get around Turkey, if you have time – but it’s a large country and I’ve probably had 4 overnight trips in 5-6 weeks.  They do weigh on you, but I recover pretty quickly.  Still, am looking forward to shorter trips when I’m in the Middle East.

My bus company was not one of the biggies.  I had decided to try out a company I didn’t know, called ‘Star Batman.’  There’s a city/region called Batman in the east, apparently.  I’m trying to favor the smaller players these days and relying a bit less on my guidebook.  They seemed eager for my business when I was walking around looking for the ticket – many companies have service to Ankara, so I had options.  All charged the same, so the diff was really reputation and time of departure.

Star Batman turned out to be a decent call.  No one sat next to me – I think they tried to keep that seat open so that I’d be more comfortable.  The bus itself was good, a Mercedes, and there were no problems along the way.  I took an Ambien when we left Gaziantep, and it worked pretty well.  I seem to recall looking at my iPod and it was shifting shape – I must have been in the zone between sleep and waking – and then I was out cold.

Got to Ankara around 8 a.m.  Took a free dolmus into the city.  Then walked for a bit before getting a cab to my hotel, which was pretty far away, in the citadel area on a hilltop.  Not a great location, but I hadn’t felt like spending hours finding a room and this place, Angora House Hotel, had a good rep.  I’d probably have to cab it around town to look for fun, but this was my final stop in Turkey and I was in the mood for a decent hotel room.

My cabbie first took me to the wrong hotel – the Angora Hotel, not the Angora House Hotel.  The meter was running…I was annoyed…but when we got to the right hotel he knocked down the price and made me whole.  Some cabbies are not thieves.

The hotel itself was nice – in an old Ottoman house, run by a nice family.  I’d mostly stayed at cheapo pensions in Turkey, and it was probably a good idea for me to experience a higher grade of accoms before taking off for Jordan.

Walked around Ankara for a  couple hours before sleeping off the overnight ride.  The city, Turkey’s capital, is just OK – it’s large and has its requisite museums, restos, hotels, etc. but doesn’t seem to have much of a personality.  Istanbul is another world.

Went to the Ataturk Mausoleum, called Anitkabir, a fairly impressive edifice and museum which includes relics from his life and from the Turkish War of Independence.  Ataturk had an amazing library – explains a lot about his worldliness and thinking.  You can learn a lot about someone from their reading list…

Got an email from friend Bill regarding my bit on Ur last week.  His point was that the ‘real Ur’ is the one in Iraq – the one near Al-Nasariyeh, with the famous ziggurat.  Bill was a serviceman in the first Gulf War (the good one), and had a chance to go see Ur when over there.  He sent me a couple on-site photos which I’d include here, but there’s some formatting issue which prevents it.  Oh well.

Anyway, I think Bill’s right.  I was starting to get at this last week – there seem to be two Ur’s – the one in Sumer/Iraq, and the one in modern-day Turkey where the locals claim Abraham was born.  The confusion arises, in large part, because it’s unclear from biblical writings which city is the famous ‘Ur of the Chaldees.’  Anyway, let the scholars fight it out – all I know is that between Bill and I, we’ve covered the Ur’s.  So there.

That’s it for now.  Am flying from here to Amman on Saturday.  Have spent the past six weeks in Turkey, seeing various parts of the country and enjoying myself here immensely.  Seems like ancient history (not as ancient as Ur) when I was on the ship from Odesa to Istanbul with Hartmutt and my Turkish cabinmates.  My first morning in Istanbul, with the strong coffee and the Galata Bridge walk, is still firmly in my mind, but so much has transpired since then.  Will miss Turkey – but it’s time to move on.

OK – gotta go and buy some multivitamins, my energy level is pretty low after the Election Night round-the-clocker and a few Efes beers last night.  Over and out.

I got up on Friday, after a fine 9-hour sleep, and joined Dri and Lisa on their tour of Cappadocia.  They had rented a car and driver and were touring in style – Cappadocia’s sights are spread out so this is the best way to see ‘em.  We spent most of the day being hard-core tourists, and checked out:

-the Goreme Open-Air Museum (my second visit, first was with NYC Brian the day before)

-the Uchisar castle, a massive rock with the interior hollowed out and stairs leading to the top

-the Zelve Open-Air Museum

-Pigeon Valley

-and a few other spots

One superb place was called Tipikturkevi, it’s a ‘typical Turkish cave house’ not far from Goreme where our driver, Fasli, took us.  The proprietor, Ismail, is a cool old guy who’s been written up in the New York Times.  His place is functional with a touch of luxury, and next time I’m in the area I fully intend to relax there for a few days.  He showed us around the place, which is relatively expansive – but by far the best part was just lounging on his balcony, overlooking the hills and ‘castles,’ listening to our driver play the sas, a guitarlike instrument.  We drank some of Ismail’s tasty Cappadocia red wine while we listened to Fasli, who spent many years as a professional musician.  He nearly blew us off the balcony with his traditional songs…yet again proving my old point that the world is full of mediocre businessmen and lawyers who are well-off and talented artists who can’t make ends meet.  Something worth solving.

The fellow on the right is a mediocre businessman and mediocre musician.  No talent whatsoever…

Got back to Goreme around 6 p.m. or so.  Exchanged texts with Brian, who was getting ready to leave for Istanbul – he was up for having a beer so we met again at Silk Road.  He’d also done an all-day local tour and had a good day of it.  We said our goodbyes – although we’d just known each other for a day or so, we’d had a week’s worth of political conversations and I think our paths may once across cross, in NYC or somewhere out here.

Checked the news on my Treo – learned that former Celtics owner Harry Mangurian died.  He was the owner when Larry Bird was drafted and owned the team throughout the 80s, a glorious stretch when regular millionaires were still able to own NBA franchises.  Now valuations are such that you either need billionaires or group ownership.  I think there are at least 3 guys who co-own the Celts today.  Which reminds me, opening game was the other night (we won) and they raised the championship banner – gotta find that video and watch it.

Also had to make a follow-up phone call to Blue Cross, my health insurer, to make sure they could still use my old cancelled check for the monthly withdrawals for my new policy.  This was a bit of a cliffhanger…was placed on hold for 15 minutes…good thing Skype calls to the US only cost 2 cents a minute!  Finally the woman got back on the line…I was on the edge of my hotel bed…and she said it was OK.  Whew – otherwise I’d have to use the last check I have with me, and spend a fair amount of loot to mail it securely to Blue Cross.  I wonder why these sorts of things have to be so complicated – I would have preferred to handle the entire thing online, with no human interference.

Was a bit worn out from the day of sight-seeing, so decided to take it easy and not hoof it out to Urgup for dinner with Dri and Lisa.  Anyway, had a call scheduled with my brother-in-law Dave, so just had a quick dinner and a couple beers before the call.  The point of the call was to exchange thoughts on a couple business ideas of mine…Dave had some ideas too…we chatted…we’ll see what happens.  On my plate:  going through my entire list of contacts and brainstorming opportunities with those that seem promising.  I won’t say any more than that right now…

Another reason for taking it easy that night:  we were going hot-air ballooning the next morning at 6:30 a.m.  Getting up that early is alien to me, particularly when it’s cold out.  But I set my alarm and got up, no problem.  It wasn’t like I was going to a business meeting…I was going ballooning.

While I sat on the toilet, at 5:30 a.m., I heard the muezzin calling out the prayers.  Didn’t recall hearing the call so early before – then I remembered that I hadn’t been up so early in ages.

Got to the balloon staging ground, they were blowing up dozens of huge balloons, pretty nice business – all cash, about US$200 a head.  Didn’t see any security around – in the States there would have been robocops all round.

Our pilot was an Aussie named Dave who was terrific – irreverent and experienced, the best combination if you ask me.  On the balloon with us were a family sporting ‘Turnip Tours’ parkas, they’re a family from Minnesota with a Germanic last name that translates as ‘turnip’ in English.  Aha.

Dri and I were psyched for the balloon ride.  Lisa was not…but she demonstrated bravery and I think ultimately had fun.  And it wasn’t like I was the king of composure and courage either – at one point we were incredibly high up, far above the other balloons (there were about 35 balloons floating around, the panorama was awesome), and I had a moment of truth.  I wondered what it would be like to climb up and over the basket and ‘fly.’  Now, I’m not suicidal, and I’m generally not obsessive-compulsive, but I had a semi-strong urge to do this.  My fingertips drained of blood…I forced myself to stand back from the wall of the basket…and the urge dissipated in a couple minutes.  Fairly scary.  I went sky-diving many years ago, and I think it’s time for another round.  I’m talking about sky-diving with a parachute, of course.

Some shots from the air:

When we landed, right near a cemetery (poignant, no?) we got out and were promptly served some champagne and given certificates proving that we survived the experience.  It was a bit chilly out and one of the Turnips, appropriately named Bayle, got into the minivan to warm up.  Meanwhile, the vehicle meant to transport the balloon (we landed on the back of a pickup truck) had a major flat tire, and the ground crew were hard to work dealing with that.  I kept drinking champagne with Dave, who has a pretty nice life – it was 8:30 a.m. and he was already done with work for the day.  Nice work if you can get it.

We were driven back to our respective hotels.  I crashed and awoke around noon – I think Dri and Lisa did the same.  I was feeling a bit guilty about sleeping so much, even though the chilly weather deserved some of the blame.  Rode my Yamaha out to a hiking path near the Goreme Open-Air Museum and went for a long walk.  I was planning to walk for a couple hours, then turn back, but after an hour or so the path got surprisingly muddy and also very narrow, and I wasn’t in the mood for bushwacking and mud-wrestling, so turned back.

Got back to my hotel, burned a CD with my Turkey photos for Dri and Lisa, who were doing the same for me.  Between us we had a great set of shots – I later sent one to Tufts University Magazine for our class notes.  Nothing like making people who are sitting at their desks feel inadequate…

Had a goodbye dinner that night with Dri and Lisa, who were taking off for Istanbul early the next morning.  Went to their hotel to pick them up – they were staying in a very nice cave hotel place called Elkep Evi Pansiyon.  Walked down to Ziggy’s Café, an upscale place.  Had a good bottle of Cappadocia white…and an odd yet tasty pasta dish with strips of dried beef.  The owner was a woman who’d moved to Cappadocia 17 years before, back when the area was probably Turkish hippy central.  She’d named the café after her deceased dog, who by the look of the image on the café door was a cool-looking creature.

It was hard to believe that Dri and Lisa were close to the end of their holiday – probably a lot harder for them to believe it than for me.  We’d had a great time hanging out together.  Dri showed me her iPod Touch, which Lisa had bought her.  Amazing device – useful in so many ways.  But I think I’ll wait for the iPhone to get beefed-up and turn into more of an iPod, then pick one of those up.  The fewer gadgets, the better.  I did mournfully look at my Treo, which is decidedly unsexy, but is still highly practical.  Is that a good description of me as well??

The motorbike ride back to Goreme was absolutely freezing.  Getting off the bike was like coming up with a brand new yoga pose…I celebrated my success by visiting a couple local bars (it was Saturday night), Flintstones Cave Bar and then Fat Boys.  Both were pretty good – somewhat full, had some good chats with locals, and filled up on Efes Beer.  One thing I asked the Turks about was where to go next – I was leaning towards Sanliurfa, to the southeast, near the Syrian border.  This place is a regular stop in eastern Turkey, and supposedly was the birthplace of Abraham.  It’s also near Mt. Nemrut, a good mountain to climb.  The locals agreed that Sanliurfa would be a good place to check out…they didn’t really recommend going farther east, to Van near the Iran border, or other far east parts of the country.  I suspect it’s because there have been some skirmishes with Kurdish rebels.  Anyway, I should head to Jordan before mid-November, so probably won’t go much further east.  And I need to ensure that I’m in a good place on November 4/5 to watch the US election coverage – I think that Ankara, the Turkish capital, is the call for that.  I dashed off an email to Democrats Abroad Turkey to see if there’s any sort of ‘election party’ I can attend and watch the returns amongst like-minded socialists…

All that said, I would love to check out Georgia and Armenia some time.  It’s getting cold there now, so I don’t mind giving it a miss.  But these are the off-the-beaten path sorts of places I love visiting.

Have probably eaten half my meals in Goreme at the Cappadocia Kebap Center.  This place has possibly the best kebaps I’ve had in Turkey.  I’ve dubbed it the “Espresso’s of Turkey” – Espresso’s was the sub joint that sustained us when we were at Tufts.  No cheesesteaks here in Turkey, but the kebaps are close enough.

Had the motorbike for a bit longer, and hadn’t really opened it up yet, so took it out on Sunday for a few hours.  Tried to formulate a plan, but nothing really came together, so I just got on the bike and rode.  Aimlessness is sometimes a good thing.  After going pretty far afield I wound up in Urgup, again, and went into a modest little spot for lunch.  The proprietor was a lovely guy and we talked for a while, then I wolfed down my meal of sac taka tavuk, a hot plate with chicken, rice and vegetables – the perfect meal for cold weather.  Then I refueled and brought the bike back to the shop.  Bye bye Yamaha 100cc…

My hotel’s wireless was working pretty well, a bit slow but good enough for doing some downloading, so bought and downloaded a bunch of episodes from ‘Heroes’ first season.  The episodes, mind you, that were corrupted on the Season One DVD I’d bought months earlier in Manila.  My Season 2 DVD seems fine, and I was left hanging on Season 1, so when I saw it was on iTunes I decided to plunk down the $1.99 per episode and right this wrong.  Took a week of intermittent downloading (each episode is 500 megs) and watching, but eventually worked my way through Season One and now I feel caught up.  Damn these TV series – I’ve gotten hooked on ‘24’ and ‘Rome’ and now ‘Heroes.’  What kind of a traveler am I?

Had to clear hard drive space for these episodes, so finally moved all my photos to my external hard drive.  I just hope nothing happens to that device – it seems quite solid and probably no less so than my laptop.

Next day was considering going a ways out, to the Ilhara Valley, for a half-day hike.  But going solo is prohibitively pricey – petrol in Turkey is outrageous, and I wasn’t up for spending nearly US$80 for a hike.  So blew that off and instead did a hike closer in, to Uchisar and back via Pigeon Valley.  That was 90 minutes each way, and I walked around Uchisar and had lunch there.  Perfectly fine – perhaps less spectacular than Ilhara, but I was happy nonetheless.

The US election:  funny how it seems that issues have come to the fore and pushed demographics to the rear.  I’m sure that there will be plenty of racists who won’t vote for Obama come November 4^th, but now it seems people are focusing on the economy and a few other things, and less on race and gender.  Good – that’s the way it should be.

I was inspired and wrote an email to the Obama campaign about priorities for the next administration – which I hope and expect will be the Obama Administration, but I don’t want to jinx him.  Anyway, I wrote about a few key priorities/objectives to reach for by 2016, and how to work backwards from those to lay out strategies and tactics.  Very strategy consulting sort of thing.  Got a nice email reply from the Obama campaign – but no job offer yet.  I saved the note – if you want a copy email me and I’ll send it to you.

Caught up on back copies of The New Yorker.  Terrific article about John Stuart Mill in one of them – his argument about God was that, if there is such an entity, it must be either limited in capabilities or deeply distracted by other priorities than watching over Earth.  I found that pretty compelling – my philosophy, gleaned from an Indian shepherd, is that if there’s a God, it made the world then went away.  Close enough.

Walked around that night after dinner – at the bus station there was a lot of noise and it turned out there was a drunken brawl there.  Not something you see often in Turkey – not so much drinking here.  You do see a fair amount of loud public disagreements, Turks are fairly emotional people…but this was unexpected.  One of the boys smashed a window; eventually one of the two groups walked off.  To be continued?…

Next day I just sat around all day downloading shows and reading New Yorkers.  I hit sloth overdrive and it felt pretty good.

Thought about a strain of Americans who have showed up in some force at McCain-Palin rallies and railed against ‘Obama the Arab/Muslim.’  Incredible.  These people are Christians, and they have this kind of intolerance and hate in them?  Jesus Christ would be appalled by most people who claim to believe in his teachings.  And Colin Powell implied as much when he endorsed Obama.  Glad to see that there are still a few people with open minds and clear thinking out there.

The muezzin who call out the prayers here have huge voices.  It’s not just the loudspeakers, they are talented guys.  I’ll bet some of them are short guys, would be funny to go up the minaret and watch them doing the prayers…

Meanwhile, got an email reply from former colleague Pedro, turns out he is Queen Noor of Jordan’s cousin.  When I read her book, ‘Leap of Faith,’ she thanked Pedro in the intro and I wondered if it was the same guy.  It was.  Very small planet, friends.

Read another New Yorker article, on the Lincoln Memorial.  The point of the article is that those behind it, including Robert Todd Lincoln, the President’s only surviving son, intended for it to commemorate Lincoln’s saving of the Union…not his emancipation of the slaves.  Interesting, and I totally believe it.  At the centennial of Lincoln’s birth, in 1909, no blacks were invited to Springfield, Illinois’ centennial dinner.  In 2009 it will be the bicentennial – and on May 30, 2009, the President will rededicate the Lincoln Memorial.  No matter who wins the election, I hope and imagine that the Springfield bicentennial event will include black citizens – and imagine the feel in the air on May 30 if Barack Obama is President and in charge of the rededication.  The symbolism would be so powerful.

Got an email from friend/fellow diver Isabel in Spain.  She took the following photo – haven’t seen many better than this one.  Someone knows how to take photos…

My 5 days in Goreme/Cappadocia was coming to an end.  Packed up and prepared to take a bus to Sanliurfa.  Had to change in Kayseri, and my Sanliurfa bus departed at midnight.  Another long ride and long night.  Tried a Xanax pill that Brian had given me – I guess Xanax is a muscle relaxant and anxiety reliever.  Didn’t work that well – didn’t sleep much on the ride.  Got to Sanliurfa at 9 a.m. feeling super-groggy.  I must have looked wonderful.

Took a cab to my hotel, Hotel Bakay, a cheap yet nice place in the center city.  Unpacked and walked around for a few hours, then crashed very hard.  Much-needed.

Had read an article written about this area by new friend Jeff from Halifax (we’d met in Moscow).  He described Sanliurfa and nearby Harran and Mt. Nemrut, and his writing had helped inspire me to come here.  I was keen to see the birthplace of Abraham in Sanliurfa, and Harran, where he lived for some time with his wife Sarah.  I wondered how Abraham had covered so much ground – from what I’d read over the years and very recently, he’d been born in the Sumerian/Mesopotamian city of Ur of the Chaldees, then moved to Harran, and from there traveled to the land of Canaan, and later to Mecca.  Very long distances, even with a good camel (I’m not sure the Mongolian camels would have done the trick).

So I was resolved to get the story straight on Abraham, recognizing that myth was a large part of the story.  It took me two days, and a trip to Harran, to realize this:  Sanliurfa is actually (well, very possibly) the ancient city of Ur.  The name of Sanliurfa before 1984 was simply ‘Urfa,’ with ‘Sanli’ added then as a honorific meaning ‘great.’  Apparently nearby Antep city was given the honorific ‘Gazi’ (brave) in 1973, and Urfa was feeling left out, so the government threw them a bone too.  So:  Ur (ancient name) à Urfa (Turkish name) à Sanliurfa.  Bingo.  I think part of my confusion was simply geographic – I had not realized that this part of Turkey is northern Mesopotamia, and lies between the famed Tigris and Euphrates Rivers.  Serves me right for getting lazy and not studying the guidebook more closely.  But the guidebook doesn’t actually make this point – so I shouldn’t beat myself up too much here.  I guess Lonely Planet figured that no one has heard of, or remembers the name Ur, so they don’t bother going back so far in their historical description in the guidebook.

Once I’d figured out that Sanliurfa was (possibly) the Ur, I got much more excited about being here.  This place, now so innocuous, was one of the earliest great cities of the world (at one time the largest), and a place I’d heard about in religious school when I was a lad.  I get keyed up by stuff like this.

NB:  Iraq also claims to have the biblical city of Ur, in southern Iraq.  Their site has an ancient ziggurat and other ruins, so they may have a good claim.  Also, present-day Iraq is more closely aligned with ancient Sumerian geography and Mesopotamia proper.  The Turkish claim is bolstered by the proximity of Sanliurfa to the settlement of Harran, mentioned in the Book of Genesis as a place where Abraham lived.  Who’s right?  Who knows.  Maybe we have to live with the existence of two Urs.  ‘Two Urs.’  Sound like a good title for a hip-hop song?

Went to the Sanliurfa Museum.  Saw some statues from 9,000 BC.  Yeesh.  I’d seen some very old stuff in Uzbekistan, in western Turkey, etc., but this was even older and I got a good sense for what the hell people were doing and making more than 10,000 years ago.  Urfa and Great, indeed.

Lots of friendly locals here.  I was stopped on the street a couple times by locals who spoke English – one guy wanted to come by my hotel and show me around, but that felt a bit too close for comfort so told him my wife was there waiting for me.  That got rid of him.  Another seemed to want to guide me around nearby Harran, but that didn’t sound like something I needed either, so another lie got rid of him.  Other locals were far less fluid in English, but friendly and without ulterior motives.  There’s a resto near my local called Altin Sis which has the most inredible kebaps – one’s called sarma beyti and it’s a bunch of kebap rolls with rice, vegetables, yogurt and tomato sauce, an absolutely massive offering.  The place is famous for filling your belly, and you tend to get out for under 10 lira, or US$6.  Unstoppable.

Went to the Abraham birthplace cave.  It’s in a section of town called Golbasi.  You enter a compound, take off your shoes, and go through the door.  On your right is a small prayer room/mosque, straight ahead is a small room where you can wash your hands and feet.  Just past that, through a glass window, is the cave itself.  Surprisingly low-key – none of the locals washing up seemed to glance at it, I guess they’ve seen it a thousand times.  I waited for the room to empty then took a long look at it – a piece of history, or just an old tale?

Lots of pilgrims in this part of town – which is full of mosques, a huge ruined Roman/Byzantine/etc. castle, a few ponds/canals filled with huge fish (legend has it that if you kill one, you’ll go blind, so they’re left alone), and trees.  Nice area – very peaceful.  Saw three young boys sneaking a smoke behind a mosque – some things are global.

Climbed the steps to the kale (castle), good views of the area:

After spending a while around here, walked to the nearby bazaar and wandered around there too.  Found a large courtyard, sat down and had a tea.  This, from what I can tell of Sanliurfa, is what 90% of the locals do all day.  Good for them.  This part of Turkey is close to Syria and Iraq and feels very Middle Eastern – good prelude for my upcoming months in Jordan, Israel, and Egypt.

Exchanged emails with a b-school buddy at one of the (remaining) i-banks in NYC.  He’s angling to get a package, that way he can keep his stock/retirement funds.  If he quits they’re gone.  He made the very cogent point that in b-school they don’t teach us the important things, like how to get fired or laid-off.  I like how he thinks…

Had a glass of pomegranate juice, “nar suyu” in Turkish.  Do we get many pomegranates in the US?  I recall when I was a kid my Uncle Jerry brought some over to our house and we had huge fun eating the seeds.  Pomegranate juice is popular in Turkey and it’s great stuff – a bit sour, deeply refreshing.  We need more of these in the West.  Biz opportunity?

Took a minibus some ways out of town to an area with a famous cave where the biblical Job supposedly lived while being tortured by the devil.  He stayed in the cave seven years, as the story goes, till God provided a spring whose water cleared Job of his diseases and made him whole again.  I recall that story – and it was random to be able to visit the cave where he supposedly lived.  Were Abraham and Job real people?  Part of me feels that they were – after all, we have solid historical proof that men like King Sargon of Akkadia lived before 2,000 B.C., King Hammurabi of Babylon a bit later, etc.  So they were more or less contemporaries of Abraham and Job, according to some scholars, and very possibly the real deal.  On the other hand, there’s no solid proof that I’ve heard of, and the stories surrounding them are nearly unbelievable – granted, they may simply be embellishments, but still.

Job is called in Turkish ‘Eyyup Peygamber,’ the second word meaning ‘prophet.’  Jesus is ‘Isa Peygamber,’ Moses is ‘Musa Peygamber.’  Job’s Cave is covered by a small pavilion, and you can go down the stairs into a small room and look through glass at the cave – a lot like the deal with the Abraham Cave:

Granted, these caves aren’t all that impressive.  Still, it doesn’t really matter.  I felt the weight of history when I was there…it’s possible that 4,000 years ago Abraham and Job were doing their thing right here in Sanliurfa.

Outside is the well where Job drank from and was cured.  I recalled that there was also a Job well in Bukhara, Uzbekistan – I guess there’s a competition for sites like these.  At least they’re not warring about it, not yet anyway…

Went for a run that night, first in a while.  Managed to find a flat sidewalk, not easy around here.  Checked emails.  Had dinner, again, at Altin Sis.  Cannot find a beer in this town – it’s a fairly religious and holy place.  But the food is good, so at best this will be a calorie-neutral stop.

Called United Airlines on Skype and booked a flight to Amman, Jordan for November 8^th.  Cost me 40,000 miles, but I’ve got a lot and they start expiring in about a year, so I want to use some and push out the expiry date.

This morning I went to Harran, an hour away by minibus.  This place is apparently 7-8,000 years old, is mentioned in the Book of Genesis, and Abraham and Sarah lived there for a while – presumably while waiting for their sub-prime mortgage application to clear.  Now it’s just ruins, with a new town surrounding it.  Good short day-trip.  Found a student guide at the bus station, we walked around the place for a couple hours.  There’s an area with a ruined minaret and mosque…and apparently the world’s first university, founded around 3,000 B.C., once stood right there:

Do you think they had government-funded higher education, or just out-of-pocket?

The castle is still in OK shape, not particularly photogenic though.  And Abraham’s house supposedly was here – not the house you see in the photo, but it was apparently around here – needless to say I’m skeptical:

How the bejesus do they have any idea about this?  I can understand generations passing down knowledge, but this sounds far-fetched.  Maybe if Abraham was famous in his own time, but…

Speaking of generations – bro-in-law Dave sent an email to the effect that Abraham was my great-great-great-great-great-great-etc.-grandfather.  Which is an interesting thought – if a generation is 20 years, and Abraham lived around 2,000 B.C., then it’s been 200 generations between him and us.  If a generation is 25 years, then just 160 generations.  Doesn’t sound like that much.  I’d love to figure all this out using the human genome…

My young guide also told me that Isaac, Abe’s son, lived nearby, and so did the legendary Adam and Eve.  Harran does seem an ancient place, and if the Garden of Eden existed in any shape or form, it’s likely to have been somewhere around here – in present-day Turkey or Iraq, between the 2 great rivers.  Food for thought.

Had tea at the Harran Cultural Home, a handicrafts and lodging house.  The owner’s family sat with us – nice folks.  We talked a bit about the GAP project, a huge dam project designed to tap the 2 rivers and bring water to the very dry area.  Most of the work is done and there are clear benefits to the locals, who are getting into cotton farming and have clean water to drink and also electricity – but downriver neighbors Syria and Iraq are annoyed that Turkey’s grabbing so much water.  And so it goes.

Syria is less than 20 km away.  Look at the mound/hill here – it’s in Syria.

Too bad I can’t get a visa for Syria here in Turkey.  One day, baby…

Got back to Sanliurfa.  Checked out election coverage on the web – can’t wait till election day.  Am really hoping for a Dem landslide – let’s send a message and show some unity.  The McCain campaign is getting pretty desperate, from the look of things – coming up with the most trivial of tidbits about Obama and acting as if they’re earth-shattering deal-breakers.  Enough, already.  A few more days and this 2-year campaign is over…

What else?  Got a call from an old friend who wants me to come back to work.  He has an interesting opp in India.  Might go see him in December and learn more about this.  Still can’t get excited about going back to work, but I suppose the good news and big pic is that I’m still marketable and in demand 3 years after quitting.  The salary we discussed, informally, sounded quite good.  Hmmm…

Also had a call with a former colleague whose judgment (and intelligence) is impeccable.  He thought this India gig sounded pretty good.  Gave me a bit of backbone – will do a few more calls and watch the market over the next 2-3 months, then make a call.  Still have my Middle Eastern travels in front of me, and I plan to follow through on those.  But, as Barack Obama said when he refused to cancel the first debate against John McCain, you’ve gotta be able to do more than one thing at a time.  Precisely.  Over and out.

Had a good day of diving my last day in Kas.  Met a nice Turkish couple who now reside in Tel Aviv – will probably go see them when I finally get to Israel.

Our guide for the dives was a slapstick guy named Oray.  He actually took the time to sketch out the dive geography and profile on a whiteboard.  I almost fell over – most dive guides in this part of the world are way too relaxed about this part of the job.  I was reassured and happy he took the time to make the dive better for all of us.

Across our two dives, saw perhaps more barracuda than I’d ever seen – sinister but beautiful creatures traveling in small packs.  We visited a midsized wreck that was covered in mud and thus fairly well-preserved.  And our small group of divers was well-synchronized – no lone wolves racing off to check something out 50 meters away.  Pretty close to the perfect day of diving – much better than I’d had in Ayvalik.  A shout out to Sirena Dive Shop in Kas for putting it all together – for a fee, of course.

Had lunch with my fellow divers when we got back to town.  Then we parted and I went back to my hotel to watch the highlights from Game 5 of the Red Sox-Rays baseball playoff game, in which the Sox came back from a 7-0 deficit to win.  Watched the big plays, then packed and went to the bus station to catch my bus overnight to Istanbul.  The manager of Kalahay Hotel, Deniz, gave me a lift to the otogar – I had a very comfortable stay at Kalahay and as I mentioned last week, was lucky that Deniz had come and snatched me from the bus station when I arrived a couple days earlier.  Sometimes everything works out even when you’re lazy and unprepared…

When we were diving, one of the Tel Aviv-based Turks, Erol, told me that Turkish buses are equipped with the equivalent of ‘flight recorders,’ which measure speeds and problems.  Since these were installed a few years ago, the drivers have dramatically slowed their speeds and accidents have dropped as well.  Turkish drivers are pretty wild and this was good news.

Overall, traveling in Turkey, largely by bus, is easy and smooth.  Lots of companies, lots of competition, and the buses are usually newish and comfy.  The only issue is that the otogars are often out of town and you don’t always have a servis shuttle to and fro.  Otherwise, it’s a user-friendly and flexible system.

As our bus pulled out of the Kas otogar, some mellow Turkish music came on.  We traveled for a while on the coastal road, back to Fethiye, and then turned inland and north, towards Istanbul.  I had someone next to me so wasn’t able to stretch out that much – and didn’t sleep much either.  Oh well.

As the sun set and I tried to settle and get comfortable, I reflected on recent weeks and thought that I could easily do this for years.  The traveling had been so random and full of flavor and adventure, and without much ordeal.  We’ll see what happens.

Had just finished Queen Noor’s book, ‘Leap of Faith.’  Good book through and through – right-wing Israelis (and AIPAC) certainly wouldn’t like or agree with it, but I thought she did a fairly balanced job highlighting King Hussein’s life and deeds, and I learned a lot from reading this book.  Kalahay Hotel, amongst its other charms, had a book exchange on the roof terrace so dropped this off and picked up Elizabeth Gilbert’s ‘Eat Pray Love,’ a recent bestseller which appeared a bit of a chick-book but perhaps worth a read.

Recalled that Murad, our kayak guide from a couple days earlier, had told us a bit about the Kurdish ‘problem’ in the east.  His point of view was that the fighting was mostly a smokescreen for drug smuggling on and around the border with Iraq and other nearby nations…and that prominent Turks were involved and happy to see the current instability continue.  Interesting, and made good sense.  I’m by no means sufficiently informed to say yea or nay to that, but sometimes these ethnic struggles do seem to go on forever, well past their shelf life.  Kurds more or less have a semi-indie homeland in northern Iraq these days, and while Kurds aren’t monolithic and while some certainly want to ‘liberate’ parts of Turkey as well, the drug argument is provocative and I think it holds some water.

On the long ride to Istanbul, a Turkish couple who spoke English befriended me and told me how long we’d be stopping, how much longer we had to go, etc.  As I’ve written nearly every week I’ve been here, Turks are terrific hosts and they’re amongst my favorite people.  I exclude, of course, Turkish cabbies and restaurant maitre ‘d’s.

Read for a few hours…listened to a slew of podcasts…didn’t study my Turkish phrasebook…slept a bit.  Pulled into Istanbul’s otogar around 9:30 a.m. Saturday.  Got on a minibus into the city – worked my way back to Side Pension, where I stayed before.  Istanbul felt pretty familiar, which was good – I’d be showing friends Dri and Lisa around the city, to the extent that I could.

Checked in – and wouldn’t you know it, I heard my name called, and it was Ray and Bev, the Aussie couple I’d met in Ayvalik and seen in Bergama as well.  They were staying at Side too.  World couldn’t be smaller, sometimes.  Caught each other up on where we’d been, then I dropped my pack and went out for a bit.  Ate a few things – stretched my legs – traded texts with Dri, who was already at her hotel and was waiting for Lisa, her sister.

Went back to Side, they had my mail package from Boston.  Cracked that open and the volume was reasonable – lots of magazines, and the only letter requiring attention was from Blue Cross, my health insurer, telling me that my premiums would rise starting in December, did I want to pick a cheaper plan?  Yes, I did.  More on that later.

Read my Tufts University mag – noticed that one of the main characters in the TV show Heroes was a Tufts grad from 1996, by the name of Sendhil Ramamurthy.  Quite cool.  Also saw a piece in there about a guy a year behind me named Josh Seftel, who recently connected with me on Facebook and who’s a filmmaker.  He shot ‘Taking on the Kennedys’ a few years back, and he recently made a movie with John Cusack and some other stars – might be called War, Inc.  Finally, and I certainly didn’t know this, saw a blurb in the mag about Jessica Biel having gone to Tufts not long ago, and that she dropped out when she hit it big.  Tufts – home of the stars.  I knew it all along.

Met up with Dri and Lisa in the afternoon.  I’d snuck a nap so was feeling fine.  Had a good few hours with the ladies – first, Turkish coffee and a long catchup call, during which time I got a call from Ken in Europe.  He and Dri know each other, so they talked for a bit.  Then we walked around town, and when the sun set we went to the nargileh/tea café where Hartmut and I’d gone a few weeks earlier.  Had an orange-tobacco waterpipe and some tea – very relaxing.  Dri and Lisa are voluble, so we had lots to talk about.  Who would have known, 20 years ago, when we were in school together, that we’d one day be here together?  And our 20^th reunion is next May, so I’m trying to get Dri and other fave classmates to attend.

After our waterpipe, we were famished (but the tobacco was just tobacco – seriously) so went to a kofte (meatball) place for a sizeable feast.  After that, some sweets, then Dri and Lisa went back to their hotel to crash – neither had had a nap that day and they were jet-lagged.  As for me – I went to a bar in Sultanahmet and had a beer, but was also a bit tired and wanted to get going on my pile of magazines.  We’d be moving on in a couple days and I hated the idea of lugging a huge bag of reading material.

Next morning, got up very early and watched Game 6 of the Sox-Rays series.  Josh Beckett pitched a solid game and we won.  Series tied 3-3.  Incredible – could the Sox pull out yet another series in which they were down 3-1?  We’d see.

Met up with Dri and Lisa.  Walked to the Grand Bazaar – but it was Sunday and closed.  Ugh.  Rejiggered plans and instead went over to the Galata Bridge.  Dri and I ate mussles from a vendor – Dri was a big fan.  These mussles are steamed, most likely, and then stuffed with rice – you’ve gotta try them to believe how good they taste.  The little kiosk serving these is called Tarihi Eminonu Balikcisi, and also serves fish sandwiches (batik ekmek) which are superb – I just can’t walk by this place without getting one.

We then walked over the Galata Bridge, avoiding fishermen casting long lines into the Golden Horn.  Took the Tunel funicular up the hill to Istiklal Caddesi.  Visited Galata Tower, Lisa and Dri went up for a view of the city.  I’d been there before, with Zee, so stayed downstairs and read Sports Illustrateds.  Plowed through two before they came back down. Who says I’m not productive these days??

Walked around Beyoglu.  We each got a kumpir, a heavily stuffed baked potato.  We were well and truly stuffed ourselves after that, walked some more to digest the portion.  Got up to Taksim Circle, then turned around and walked back.  Lisa talked us into attending the monthly whirling dervish show – which was alright, not that exciting but I suppose authentic enough:

Later that night, caught a taxi from Sultanahmet to Beyoglu for dinner.  Taxi flagfall was reasonable, just 2 lira.  I was sitting in the front, talking to Dri and Lisa in the back.  After we crossed the Horn I looked at the meter and it was already up to 23 lira.  Hmmm…I said something to the driver, he replied that the river drive was long.  Not good enough.  I said this fare was much more than what I’d paid last time – he muttered something back.  But after this exchange, the meter barely moved, even though it was another 10-15 minutes in the taxi.  Final tab was 28 lira.  We paid but left no tip, and I bitched at him as we left the taxi.  I think he was monkeying with the meter using a foot pedal or hidden hand control.  I think Lisa was a bit annoyed that I was vocal and annoyed…but I hate thieving cabbies, I hate getting overcharged in general, and I’m willing to be perceived as cheap in order to make my point.  I should have taken his license plate or driver ID and reported it.  Next time I will – seriously.

Found a good meyhane (tavern/resto) in Beyoglu.  Had a very fun dinner consisting entirely of meze, raki and white wine.  Loads of old Tufts stories retold and embellished.  I love nights like these.  Am fully expecting more during our 20^th reunion next May.

This place also overcharged us.  We complained about the price of the wine, they lowered it – but we probably should have scrutinized the bill more closely.  I felt a bit badly, I’ve been traveling for years and still manage to occasionally get screwed.  Dri and Lisa are also highly experienced (they grew up in Rome, the world capital of thieving service providers), but still I felt a bit responsible and from now on I promise to be even cheaper and more discerning…

Had my camera with me – got a couple nighttime shots of Aya Sofya and Blue Mosque, without flash.  I think the colors are much richer this way…

Got up early the next morning to watch Game 7 of the baseball series.  This time the Sox lost, after taking an early lead on a Dustin Pedroia homer.  Bummer.  Would have been an all-time classic sports tale if they had come all the way back, again, but it wasn’t to be.  Tampa had a tough team and this just might be their year.  I think the Sox will be back strong next year, and I suppose I can wait.  The only positive, if there is one, is that my early mornings will finally be free and clear.  Between baseball playoffs and election debates, I’ve gotten up at dawn around 10 times in the past month or so.  Do you feel sorry for me?

Heard that Colin Powell endorsed Obama.  Wow – not an insignificant endorsement.  Of course, Fox News dismissed it as a racial matter.  The mere fact that Fox News has a sizeable following is really an indictment of the American mentality…their people are like overaged fratboys hanging around the frathouse 20 years after they graduated.  Fat, dumb, and unwelcome.  Colin Powell, despite his missteps in the Bush Admin (he had plenty of trogs pushing him into the fire), is an honorable guy and I think his endorsement speaks volumes about the GOP and McCain.  Maybe it’s not too late to save Powell’s legacy after all…

Monday, Dri and Lisa did their thing while I caught up on various tasks.  Paid my bills and updated my financial records.  Ugh.  Voted – not that simple a task.  Had to download and print a couple forms, fill them out, then find a post office.  Unfortunately, the city of Newton, Mass. didn’t send my absentee ballot till 2 weeks before the election date, so it didn’t come in time for my mail drop.  Thankfully, there is the online/printout option, but it’s a pain.  Still, had to vote and did it.

Did laundry.  Went to the tailor to get my daypack and electronics cord pack sewed up.  The tailor visit was uneventful this time – nobody came in with a split pair of pants.  Then had lunch, and took a nap.  These early morning ballgames take a bite out of me.

En route to the hotel, saw a brand-new Corvette parked near the Aya Sofya.  Talk about juxtaposition of old and new.  If the Corvette has anywhere near the longevity of Aya Sofya, the US auto biz just might have a chance…

Got a text from former colleague Kristina.  We made plans to have dinner that night.  I was looking forward to getting some new gossip from her, and seeing what she was up to.

Read my emails – heard from good friend and former colleague Eric that he was leaving the firm and taking on a strategy job with Ayala Corp. in Manila.  Eric’s Filipino and was looking to get back home, this new gig sounds tailor-made for him.  I felt both happy and sad to get his news – he was the last one of us left at the firm from our Aussie project back in 2000 in Sydney, a project that was a professional highlight for all four of us, I’m quite sure.  Oh well, time flies and we all move on.  Eric and I will see plenty of us each, I’m sure, as I get to the RP fairly often, and might be back there again in March 2009.

Met Kristina in Beyoglu that night.  Went to a hip new place called Otto, drank a few beers and had cheeseburgers.  I didn’t work with Kristina at the firm, she was usually in London or Istanbul and I was in East Asia and Oz, but we had always gotten along well and it was high time we sat down and had a long chat.  Lots of changes at the firm – another longtime colleague, Jim, has left – he was my mentor for a couple years and I always thought the world of him.  Gotta get his new email address and track him down.

We talked for nearly 3 hours and I had a great time.  I need one of these conversations every couple months, they help connect me with my past.  I lead such an untethered life, which I generally enjoy, but it’s good to have a bit of grounding as well.

Said bye to Kristina and walked back to Sultanahmet, over the bridge, took about 40 minutes.  Saw the late-night fishermen on the bridge, there are people with rod and reel there at all hours.  Walking around a city late-night is one of the best ways to get a sense of the place – the people up and around in the wee hours are the heart and soul of the place.

Before sleeping read the local paper – there’s a huge trial in Istanbul of a group called Ergenekon.  These people are accused of lots of hanky-panky in the cause of inciting the army to rise up and declare yet another coup.  Murder, kidnapping, etc. – lots of charges against this organization.  I don’t know much more than thap, but it does seem a real struggle for the identity of Turkey.

Next day, my last in town, had a few hours before getting on a bus to the central Anatolian region of Cappadocia, where I’d meet Dri and Lisa next.  They were in Ephesus today, on a very long day trip.  I did a few novel things – got on a ferry to Uskudar, in Asian Istanbul, where I walked a bit but mostly sat and read the newspaper on the harbor while random locals came up and tried out their English on me.  Went back to the Euro side, to Karakoy, and tracked down the city’s most famous baklavacisi, where I tried a couple specialties and emerged with a serious case of sugar overload.  My head was spinning and I was probably pre-diabetic for a few hours.

En route to the Euro side I spotted a UkrFerry, perhaps the same boat that took me from Odessa to Istanbul a month earlier.  Oh, nostalgia…

Went back to the hotel to relax and get my stuff.  I had to call Blue Cross to change my medical insurance plan – longtime readers may recall that I did the same thing last winter, from Goa, and it wasn’t a fun process.  Some things never change – first, called the Sales Dept and got an online proposal for a new plan.  Next, called another part of Sales and accepted the new plan.  Third, called Member Services and cancelled my old plan.  Also asked this person if I could just continue using my current payment plan, which relied on a cancelled check I’d sent them and direct withdrawals from my checking account.  This seemed problematic, even though I’d done it last year.  They asked me to call back in 48 hours to get an answer.  Torture.  At this hotel I had wireless, but you never know what your next hotel will have.  Why can’t companies like Blue Cross have someone hold your hand through the entire process?  I was on the phone for more than an hour and I had to hurry to get my pack and head for my bus.

Still, there was a fun element to the calls, which I made on my laptop, using Skype, from the rooftop of my hotel.  The Blue Mosque was to the right, the Aya Sofya to my left.  I don’t think the ancient Byzantines or Ottomans could ever have imagined something like this…

My overnight bus was going to Goreme, in Cappadocia.  In a nutshell, Cappadocia is a bizarre section of Turkey where there are crazy rock formations, many resembling erect circumcised penises.  The locals and guidebooks call them ‘fairy chimneys,’ but I’m telling you what they really look like.  Needless to say, female travelers favor Cappadocia.  No wonder Dri and Lisa were dying to come here.  Just kidding.  I think.

Bus trip was alright.  Had someone next to me, as usual, and didn’t sleep much.  The guy next to me was another foreigner who fell right asleep.  I was jealous, but just read and listened to podcasts.  Finally got to the bus depot, not far from Goreme, and switched to another bus.  My seatmate turned out to be from New York, Brian, who was traveling for a month in the Middle East.  We hit it off nicely and chatted until our bus to Goreme arrived.  Got to Goreme, said our goodbyes, and I went to my hotel and checked in.  Pretty nice place called Gultekin – the owner and son seem to live in a cave room, these are very common in Cappadocia, the ‘penises’ are hollow or have been hollowed out and are often used for dwelling.  Cool in the summer, warmish (with heating from stove) in winter, they’re practical places.

I showered and then crashed for a couple hours.  Got up and checked out Goreme.  Cool vibe, nice little touristy town.  Walked a kilometer or so to the ‘Goreme Open-Air Museum,’ a place with lots of cave churches and rock formations.  Ran into Brian just then – funny timing, he’d been on a tour all morning while I’d been sleeping.  We walked around the museum for an hour or so, then back to Goreme, where we had a few beers and talked.

Most of our talk centered on politics.  Both of us are pretty liberal and ‘elitists,’ of course.  It was almost uncanny how our views aligned – we often finished each others’ sentences.  Most of our wrath was directed at Sarah Palin – we’d both seen the Saturday Night Live videos and various other pieces which quite effectively demonstrated the buffoonery of our Sarah.  Felt good to vent live and get instant affirmation that my views are indeed unassailable.  I’d sort of known that all along, but Brian helped me finally ratify that feeling.

The café, Silk Road, had a good playlist.  At least two Crash Test Dummies songs came on while we were sitting there drinking.

We finally split up and I went back to the hotel to await word from Dri and Lisa, who were flying in shortly.  While waiting, the owner and son invited me to have a bite with them – they had made a batch of spicy rice and liver.  Joined them for this, my pre-dinner, and enjoyed it thoroughly.

Then got a text from Dri and Lisa.  They were staying one town over, and I’d already decided to rent a scooter to visit them, so went and took care of that.  It occurred to me that Brian was probably sitting around and that he’d be great dinner company, so texted him and he was happy to join us.  He came down to the scooter place, and in 5 minutes we were riding, in the freezing night air, to Urgup, where Lisa and Dri were soon to arrive.

Random adventure.  I’d met Brian that morning (after not a word on the first bus, when he was sleeping – and I probably wasn’t that friendly), Dri and Lisa were still en route, Brian was now sitting on the back of my scooter, and it was all good.  Got to Urgup without much incident – found the town center and hopped off the scooter, half-frozen.  We were early, so found a bar and had a couple beers, still chatting about politics, and also travel, sports, etc.  Brian is a security consultant and wants to work abroad.  He’s pretty experienced already – spent a few years in Japan, and has been to lots of other places.  Still, he wants more and I think has the same criticisms of America as I do.

Dri and Lisa texted – and we met them at the resto next door.  Had a great meal, tried the local specialties, included a claypot kebap.  Good local white wine too.  Dri and Lisa had had a good trip to Ephesus, and some odd bus adventures as well.  Stayed out fairly late, then we were all beat from the long day and the cold.  Brian and I got back on the bike.  Our waiter in the restaurant had asked Brian what sort of bike he had (Brian had his helmet with him at the table, so it wouldn’t get stolen).  The waiter laughed when Brian said 1) we had a Yamaha 100cc scooter, and 2) he was a passenger.  I was in the toilet so missed this exchange, which by all accounts was a riot.

Ride back to Goreme was fine, but frigid.  Stopped and pulled out a pair of socks, which I’d packed in case of cold, for my hands.  Worked OK – last time I’d done this was ages ago, when Dad and I skied the Matterhorn one July 1^st morning.  The socks warmed my hands, somewhat, but it was also harder to control the brakes and throttle.  Took it slow and easy and we were fine.  Said bye to Brian, who was doing a daylong tour the next day, then busing it back to Istanbul.  My plans were more vague, but was likely to meet Dri and Lisa at the Open-Air Museum, then play it by ear.  Was already finding Cappadocia a random and fun spot – might stay a week or so here, exploring the outer expanses on my wimpy little Yamaha 100cc scooter.  Over and out.

Celebrated Yom Kippur with a large breakfast before heading to the famed ruins of Ephesus.  Felt no guilt whatsoever…I’m sure I’ll have a forced fast on a 20-hour bus trip before long…

Ephesus is known for being the best-preserved Roman city in the Eastern Mediterranean, wanted to check it out while in the neighborhood.  It was impressive – but so were the crowds of tourists.  You can definitely get a feel for how the city was laid out – a fair number of structures are still partially standing.  But fighting through the crowds was a drag – it’s a place to visit once, then be glad it’s over.

Walked back to Selcuk from the ruins.  Came upon the Artemis Temple, once a massive place with 127 columns, one of Pliny’s 7 ancient wonders of the world.  Now there’s a single column standing – which made me wonder, why just one?  Seems strange – shouldn’t there be zero, or perhaps four?  Anyway, not many crowds there – that was a relief.

Stopped at Amazon Restaurant for lunch – was famished after ruin-hopping.  It was still Yom Kippur, but by now it was clear I’d not be adhering to the ancient fasting custom so I might as well go for broke.  Had an Efes beer, appropriately, then some fried cheese with the juiciest tomato I’d ever had, and finally a good chicken dish.  My table was outside and there was the barest glimpse of the Artemis Temple.  Pretty cool – sitting, eating and drinking, with a view of one of the seven ancient wonders.  Must do this more often…

Took a long nap, then got up and went for a run along the highway.  Then had dinner at the Nazar Hotel’s rooftop resto – the mother, Ayse, can really cook, I had an eggplant moussaka dish that was dynamite.  The sun had set by the time I got up there so my photo attempts weren’t impressive.  Oh well.  Selcuk has a citadel that reminded me of Jodhpur’s Meherangar.  Look it up online if you really care…

Finished ‘Live from Jordan’ by Ben Orbach, the book’s about an American student of Arabic who spends a year in Amman and Cairo.  Quite a singular experience – he really got inside the seams of the local culture.  I didn’t find his analyses or philosophy all that deep, but they were a hell of a lot farther along than anything put out by the Bush Administration.  I wish we had more people like Ben Orbach…

My phone connection stopped working.  ‘SIM not available’ was the message.  Weird.  Checked into Turkcell the next day – turned out I had to ‘register’ the SIM card with the government.  I knew this was too easy – Turkey is liberalizing but it still has a degree of control and ‘war on terror’ that exceeds what you see in the West.

You can’t access YouTube here – apparently it has something to do with al-Qaeda or Kurdish terrorist videos being posted there.  Or something like that.  The bigger issue for me here is that the Turkish keyboard is torture – there are two letter ‘i’s here, and the more common one lacks a dot above it – this key is in the place of our ‘i’ with the dot.  I couldn’t access my email on a regular computer till I figured out the ‘i’ trick.  By the time I die I will have seen nearly everything, my friends…

Meanwhile, my back was starting to bother me…again.  It had been almost two years since my previous flareup, and that persisted for many moons, till I saw the blessed chiropractor Dr. Pardis in Cebu.  I decided to put the running on hold for a few days and switch to yoga, that might help.

At the same time, the markets were crapping out.  I felt a bit bad for myself, with a bad back and a shrinking portfolio.  But I quickly snapped out of it – I don’t really have any grounds to feel sorry for myself.  Better days are ahead, my friends…am I starting to sound like John McCain??  In the second Pres. debate he claimed to know how to take care of so many things that I almost switched my vote to him…

All that said, I was starting to mull the prospect of returning to work in some capacity.  Had interesting email exchanges with some friends and I might do a call or two later this month to investigate further.  Might be a good idea to bring in some fresh cash in the next year or two, given the dismal economic prospects…but it will be hard to set aside the travels and buckle down.  Let’s see where this all goes.

Went to Bodrum after Ephesus/Selcuk.  Bodrum’s on the southwest coast of Turkey, right where the Aegean turns the corner to the Mediterranean.  Herodotus, the ‘father of history,’ came from Bodrum, known as Harlicarnassus back then.  Now it’s a major coastal resort – I wanted to check it out briefly.  I had considered instead going inland to see ancient Afrodisias, an Ephesus-like Roman ruin, with a fantastic name to boot – the antecedent of ‘aphrodesiac.’  But my back was sore, I didn’t feel like tramping around more ruins, and I felt like getting back to the cooler coast.  Also, Bodrum has its own ancient wonder – the Mausoleum, the tomb of former king Mausolus.  More on that soon…

As I awaiting my bus to Bodrum, I watched Friday prayers at a mosque near the otogar.  Muslim prayers are fairly athletic – lots of standing, kneeling and abasing.  Active much like yoga is…and Friday prayers are lengthy, it’s their holy day.  I must have watched for a half hour before my bus started to roll.  Maybe these Muslims are onto something…

The bus left 90 minutes after scheduled, I was a bit annoyed as I’d sort of rushed to get to the station on time.  Generally Turkish buses are on time so this was the first cock-up – not that big a deal.  Sitting near me on the bus were a few Kurds traveling from Turkey’s southeast Kurdish areas to Bodrum for work.  Nice guys.  At one point the bus sped by a fake speed trap – literally, a cardboard or wood police car mock-up – a decent artistic effort, and a cost-effective way to deal with speeding.  I’ve seen another one of these since.  Clever.  Is there a market for designing and marketing these things?  Ari, what do you think?  The bus driver didn’t get fooled, he plies this route every day…but even if it fools a third of drivers, it’s probably cost-effective.

Got to Bodrum, checked into Sevin Pension, which was a solid little place.  The manager seemed to do everything there but wash the floors.  My room was OK – clean but a bit cramped.  Dumped my bag and raced to find Turkcell Extra, the mobile phone company’s shop.  Got there, talked with the rep and learned to my chagrin that I’d need to buy a new SIM and register that one.  Ugh – not that cheap.  Did it – had to sign about 6 forms and the phone still didn’t work.  Was told that the government had to switch it on, and that it could take a bit of time.  I wasn’t able to do anything more…had to wait.  I hate bureaucracy, but what could I do?

Bodrum was nicer than I expected.  There was a definite après-season feel in the air – crowds weren’t bad, the air was cool, and the locals seemed eager for business.  Not a bad time to visit, although if you want to party hearty then summer’s the time to go.  You’d just need to book way in advance and be prepared for crowd hell.  I wasn’t in that mood so I was happy.

Had a kumpir (stuffed potato) and a couple beers, then headed back to my room early that night, Friday night.  My back was killing me – I was cranky as a result.  And I was tired from the long day of traveling.  Broke out my laptop and watched a few episodes of Season One of ‘Heroes,’ the television series.  Pretty compelling stuff – till the DVD (pirated, from Cebu) crapped out.  Torture.  Couldn’t get it going again – wound up tossing it and moving on to Season Two.  Obviously, missed a bunch of episodes so might try to find Season One when next in the Philippines.  The problem is that they churn out these DVDs in batches, so all of them might be screwy.  Could suck it up and buy Season One from Amazon…we’ll see if I find myself dying to make up the lost episodes.

Woke up cranky – bad back, bad markets, bad DVD.  Continued feeling bad until I went down for breakfast and saw the manager’s friend moving himself around in a wheelchair, then a middle-aged woman with a walker.  The wheelchair-bound fellow turned out to be a lovely guy, he told me about his buddy, a yoga teacher and masseuse who had spent years in Calcutta and who could come over and minister to my back later in the day.  Hallelujah.  I had considered going to the hammam (Turkish bath), to get a massage, but this sounded better, if perhaps more costly.  I was not price-sensitive at this point.

Managed to walk over to the city castle, which is now an ‘Underwater Archeological Museum.’  The castle was built by the Byzantines, then taken over by the Knights of Rhodes, before falling to the Ottomans.  There was a sign there to the effect that the museum is not underwater, it just displays objects found underwater.  Duh.  I can only imagine cretin tourists asking stupid questions and requiring a sign like this to be posted…

Some terrific exhibits here.  One room had ancient glass objects found on the ocean floor from wrecks, some of the pieces were from the 14^th century BC.  Wow.  These things are still around and largely intact…and I can’t even find my Zeta Psi beer mug?!

Another room had pieces found on the Uluburun wreck, also from the 14^th century BC – the oldest wreck ever recovered, near the coast in the 1980s.  Simply awesome.

Very good museum, despite it not actually being under water…

Went back to the hotel and got my massage.  The fellow looked like he spent a good chunk of his life in Calcutta – wild hair, bone-thin, and a wide grin.  He spent an hour beating the crap out of me and it really helped.  I felt about 50% better afterward and crossed my fingers for further improvement over time.

Walked to the Mausoleum, which is now in pieces.  Apparently it was in decent shape, albeit largely buried, till 1522, when the Knights broke it up to reinforce the castle (now underwater museum), which fell to the Ottomans anyway.  Nice job guys – destroy one of the seven ancient wonders to work on your crib.  Thanks.

Heard that Thailand and Cambodia are fighting over a temple near Angkor, and a patch of forest.  Reminds me of one wag’s line about the recent Ethiopia-Eritrea wars:  ‘two bald men fighting over a comb.’  This should put a nice dent in their tourist sectors.  Nice job, guys…

Sevin Pension has wireless, called friend Steve, who splits his time between the RP and the USA.  He’s in New Hampshire right now, plotting his return to Dumaguete in a few months.  His portfolio has taken a real beating, for some reason he’s had and kept most of his money in Toyota stock – hmmm.  Also got a call from fratbro Ari, who manages money and claimed to have about US$9 left.  Might be a good time to buy plutonium…

Sevin’s outdoor café plays the funniest 70s and 80s music.  Haven’t heard some of this shit since I was in Manila.  ‘Reunited’ by the Greg Kihn Band.  Classic.

Saturday night – back felt better so went out for a while, but not big-time.  Bodrum has a huge night scene, this place must really go off in season, but now it was fairly calm.  Went into a place appropriately called ‘First Stop.’  Got an Efes beer, poured it into a mug.  Bartender soon came over and tried to do the same, but I had beat him to it – and we both had tried to get every drop out of the bottle and into my mug.  I teased him about being slow to the punch.  He laughed.  I swear that Turks must be some of the nicest people on the planet – right up there with Filipinos.

Went out and saw a bit later the Halikarnas Disco.  This place is renowned for being the glitziest place around, and probably one of the wildest/most technologically-advanced discos in the world.  It doesn’t really get going till 1 a.m. or so – I didn’t hang around for that, but wouldn’t mind returning some day to participate in the mayhem.

It wasn’t that exciting an evening – lots of Brits and Turks sitting around sucking on beers and watching soccer.  I turned in around midnight and rested my back.

Was heading to Marmaris the next morning.  Got up, had breakfast, said bye to the manager and the guy in the chair, who was about to buy a glass-bottom canoe or two and start up a business.  I gave him my email and asked him to keep me posted – we had hit it off pretty well.

Marmaris is another largeish seaside resort town.  Not that historic as far as these places go, but apparently situated on a stunning peninsula which you can check out on a motorbike.

The Red Sox and Rays split the first two games of the American League Championship Series.  Fingers crossed.  The Rays look tough this year.

On the bus to Marmaris read a book given to me by Ellen of Key West, whom I’d met in Istanbul.  This was ‘Leap of Faith’ by Jordan’s Queen Noor.  What an unusual life she’s had – started life as a fairly average American and wound up married to King Hussein.  The book was pretty good, at least in the early going.  In the intro the Queen thanked many people, among them her cousin Pedro Arboleda.  I had a colleague at Monitor by that name, might email him and see if he is indeed the Queen’s cousin.  That would be random…

Got to Marmaris – took a dolmus (minivan) from otogar into town.  Wound up far from where I wanted to be.  Took an expensive taxi to ‘Bar Street,’ my hotel, Hote Begonya, was apparently around there.  But it was not – thanks, Lonely Planet.  No hotel around there.  Took another pricey taxi to an area where there were supposedly many hotels and pensions.  That there were, but my preferred place was full.  Torture.  Ended up walking around, and found an ‘apart-otel’ that seemed OK.  Price was right – room was actually a suite of sorts.  Not super nice or spotless, but for two days perfectly doable.

Walked to the beach to relax.  Passed by a Hotel called Otel Nadir.  Great name, like the Chevy Nova marketed to Latin America.  Wondered if ‘nadir’ meant anything in Turkish.  Remind me to look that up.

Got a chair at the beach and passed out.  My hotel search in the heat had been taxing.  And my back still hurt.  Incredible how much of a toll having a sore back takes – I can probably only muster half the joie and energy I usually have.  Gotta take care of this ASAP…

Took a nap, then got up and practiced yoga for an hour.  That seemed to help substantially.  My joie rose and I went out.  Walked downstairs and asked the receptionist where I could hire a scooter for a ride around the peninsula the next morning.  He in turn walked me over to his manager, a fellow named Ismail who was working the café floor just outside.  Ismail turned out to be a terrific guy – lives half the year in Britain, has a British accent, and couldn’t be more personable.  I wish I drew energy from fellow humans like this guy does.  Anyway, he gave me the card of a rental place, then encouraged me to hang out at the café.  I did – had a couple beers and chatted for an hour or so with him.  He’s also heavily invested in the markets and we traded sob stories for a while.  Then we got into his shweet Mercedes and he drove me over to Bar Street for a look around.  Poverty is indeed a relative term…or frame of mind.  Keep that in mind, young Slone…

Marmaris was sort of growing on me.  My initial impressions had not been great – otogar far from the center, rip-off taxis, hotels not where they were supposed to be.  But the Atay Apart-Otel, which I hadn’t really taken to, had turned out to be more than OK.  Room was fine, and the café was fun.  Sometimes I’m guilty of adhering too much to my guidebook for lodging options – or maybe it’s just that I’m a bit lazy and don’t feel like doing much online research or hoofing it around with my pack.  When it comes to big cities with poor value lodging, I do spend time online and do my homework, otherwise I’d get ripped off.  All that said, I buy a guidebook to give me recommendations, so I’m surely not weird or alone in this regard.  It’s just that there are often diamonds in the rough that I miss…also, places listed in the guidebook seem to experience price hikes that defy gravity.  My guidebook was published in April 2007 – add a year onto that, so the data is about 2.5 years old.  Some of the hotels I visit have nearly doubled their prices in that timeframe – a bit excessive, methinks.  Being listed seems to encourage these places to raise their prices – while those places not listed, or new, must try harder.  More on this later…

Had a few beers at the many places in Bar Street, ate some manti (dumplings) at a little outdoors café, and chatted with a few Germans.  That felt like a night, so walked back to the hotel.

Checked email, then reached the hotel.  Saw Ismail sitting with a couple at the café, he hailed me and I went over to say hi.  He invited me to join them – why not.  The couple were Welsh, Joel and Nina, and they were good fun.  Had a couple more beers and talked politics with them – I do enjoy telling non-Americans about what’s going on with the current elections.  We were on the same page, so no real arguments, just a lot of back-slapping and cheers going round.

Next morning, got up and looked to rent a motorbike.  This proved more difficult than envisioned.  I had the card for a place near the hotel, walked there, not open yet.  Saw another place, but it only rented cars.  Oh well – waited around till 10 a.m. till the first place opened.  Went there a bit after 10, a counter window was open and music was blaring, but no human in sight.  Yelled, rapped on the door, no one.  Eventually went back to the hotel, saw Ismail, he called and got the owner, who wasn’t at the shop, and anyway they had no bikes to rent.  Ugh.  Ismail just pointed me towards the beach road and said to head to the right, I’d see a place sooner or later.  I was kicking myself for not taking care of this the previous night, but I had been weary and generally you can’t find much fault with me when it comes to planning things like this – I deserve a break every now and then.

I walked for a while, thinking about the twin themes of personal responsibility and resignation.  As I just wrote, almost always I’m very good about taking care of administrative crap like booking a hotel or renting a bike…often it’s just out of my hands.  For instance, I had tried to call Hotel Begonya in Marmaris before arriving, but hadn’t gotten through.  That might have told me something (i.e., it no longer existed), but often phone numbers change.  My point is that I’m starting to feel like there’s a threshold for me that I’m starting to see more clearly – I can only do so much, at which point it’s not fair/realistic to expect me to try harder.  The issue for me is that when I hit that line, I get a bit depressed/resigned – and I was feeling this way as I trudged along, looking for a bike.  I really wanted to get on a bike and speed along the coast – it was supposed to be a classic day-trip.  But I didn’t feel, with my sore back and slight hangover, like searching for hours.

This concept of a personal responsibility threshold is a bit of a trap for me.  I guess one solution is to try to push the threshold; being willing to try/search harder, while annoying, will at least likely be better than my becoming depressed.  I thought about this and decided to look for another 15 minutes.  And I turned the corner and saw two Yamahas with a ‘for rent’ sign on them.  Hallelujah.

That was the start of a brilliant day riding around the Hisaronu Peninsula.  Some of the best coastal views I’ve ever seen:

Meant to follow the road around the peninsula – not all that straighfoward, given the mountainous nature of the peninsula, which meant that roads converge in the center.  Slightly confusing – I had a couple false trails which later forced a course correction.  I followed what must have been a logging trail for miles, over scrum and rocks.  Clearly not the suggested road – oh well.  It was all good, though – I covered all sorts of terrain and felt comfortable on the bike, hadn’t ridden in months.

Stopped in the nice little harbor town of Bozburun, had lunch at Fishermen House, run by a local fisherman and his family.  Had a great kalamar tava (fried calamari – ten times as good, and cheaper, than a similar dish in Istanbul).  And some nice dolma, stuffed grape leaves.  Very pleasant to just sit there and watch the boats in the bay.  Thought about going for a swim at the local beach…and at some other beaches along the route…but I wasn’t that impressed with the Aegean beaches, at least those I saw.  A bit small, rocky, and modest.  I guess the Goan and Philippines beaches have spoiled me!

Got back to town.  Superb day, was happy I’d forced myself to go and track down a bike that morning.  Walked over to Turkcell Extra’s shop in the town center – my phone still wasn’t working.  The guy there told me that the government sometimes took a while to register a phone, it could take 10 days.  Hmmm – that wouldn’t be good.  But what could I do?  Here again, a case of personal resignation…I trudged back to the hotel.  Hell, it wasn’t the end of the world, it’s just convenient to have a mobile to call hotels, friends, etc.  You know – how would you do without a mobile these days?

Back was feeling much better, despite the dodgy mattress at this hotel.  Must have been the massage plus the yoga.  I was feeling good about my short Marmaris stay – the Atay had been solid enough, and Ismail and the Welsh couple were good company.

Read the Queen Noor book for a while, did some yoga, then went down to the café for beer and dinner.  Joel the Welshmen walked by en route to the internet café, and soon returned to join me.  Nina wasn’t feeling well, she was staying in, so Joel and I ramped up our beer consumption and soon Ismail came by to chat as well.  Funny how fast social networks (real ones, not Facebook) can form.  I had been in Marmaris for a day and a half and already felt like I had a crew.

Good time of year to be here.  Not that many people, quite relaxed.  Enough of a crowd to scare up some trouble if you really want it.

The US$ is strengthening, for some reason.  Some comfort in the midst of all this turmoil.  At least the market bounced back early in the week, up 900 points on Monday.

Joel and I were still sitting at our table, drinking Efes beer, when two scary English harpies came by.  One, with big blonde hair and an armful of tattoos, asked in a cockney accent if we knew where to get a taxi.  Joel cringed at the sight and sound of her, a countrywoman…I nearly did as well, but just pointed her across the street, where there was a taxi stand in plain view.  The woman was a true beast.  Sometimes I forget that America doesn’t have a monopoly on morons – we do have a plurality, though.

Turned in.  Was traveling the next day, on to Fethiye.  Got up, filled up the bike and returned it.  I’m always happy to get these things off my hands, I worry about someone stealing them.

Checked emails.  Got a comment on my blog from Ellen from Key West, she of the Queen Noor book.  She had just gotten back to the States from Jordan and had read my recent blog entries…seemed to enjoy them.  Also got an email from college buddy John and a few other friends.  Before I knew it, I’d spent an hour sitting there and had to return to the hotel to pack up and head off.

Hopped on a bus to the next seaside town, Fethiye, a larger place where I’d only have one night.  A friendly Turkish guy from Fethiye was on the same bus, and gave me some tips for the place.  Chatted for a while – he told me that he earns 700 Turkish lira a month as a bartender.  That’s not much loot – only about US$525/month.  And prices aren’t that cheap, so his purchasing power is weak.  How do people make ends meet??

He showed me to the proper dolmus when we reached Fethiye.  Got dropped off fairly near my hotel, Hotel Horizon, which required a trudge up a steepish San Francisco-like hill.  Reward:  superb views of the harbor.

Fethiye was pleasant enough, but it seemed mostly given over to two of my least favorite things:  shopping and real estate sales.  I’m sure there’s much more, but that’s what I saw during my 20 hours there.

Ate a doner kebab while walking around.  Felt something wet on my pants – was it raining?  Not raining per se – instead, it was raining doner kebab sauce on my white t-shirt and pants.  Yay.  Returned to the hotel and washed them off, then showered and changed.

Best thing about Fehtiye, IMHO:  fish dinners.  You go to the fish market, pick out a fish, get it weighed and costed, then choose one of the restos ringing the fish market and get them to cook it for you.  They charge about 4 bucks to cook the fish, plus they give you a salad and some pita bread.  Not bad at all.  I had a half-pound sea bass, which cost about US$8, plus the resto cost.  Delicious fresh fish and meal, and pretty cheap.

Read in the newspaper that Robert Mugabe is already reneging on his deal with the opposition.  Figures.  You heard it here, a few weeks ago.  The photo of Mugabe in the paper was something out of George Orwell’s worst nightmares – the epitome of a totalitarian madman:

Also read that John McCain wants to lower the capital gains and dividend tax rates.  Not too sure that’s what we need right now – if you lower capital gains tax rates, you might encourage selling of shares, not capital formation, at least not in the near-term.  And we do need to fix things in the near-term, Johnny.  Then again, he’s on the record as being clueless about the economy.

In the middle of the night, I awoke to the most incredible thunder and lightning.  Truly biblical – the sky and earth seemed to shake with the booms.  The sky lit up like it was daytime.  Rain was pounding down.  Hadn’t seen a storm like that in ages.  Went back to sleep, somehow.]

Next morning, caught a bus to my final stop on this round of Aegean/Mediterranean Turkish spots, Kas.  I’d heard terrific things about Kas, including the de rigeur kayak trip where you go over the submerged ruins of a Roman town.  Got to Kas – a tout was at the bus station, and convinced me to go with him to check out his hotel.  As I mentioned earlier in this post, I’m probably not spontaneous enough about investigating ‘unlisted’ lodging options, so this time I gave in and tried to keep an open mind.  I suppose, with touts, that I’m closed-minded because I’m skeptical of places that have touts in the first place.  But there could be multiple reasons – the place is new, it didn’t get looked at by the guidebook authors for whatever reason, etc.  I went with the fellow, and he took me to Kalahay Hotel.  This place turned out to be a huge gem, and probably much better than the places in my book which I was set on looking at.

Kalahay had spotless rooms with ensuite, a nice rooftop café, an adventure booking office to handle kayaking, diving, etc., wireless internet, you name it.  All for about US$18 a night.  Excellent value, all round.  Very pleased to wind up in this place.

Had a beer on the roof, took some photos.  Watched a seagull fly around the bay for 15 minutes – desperately wished I could join him.  Jonathan Livingston Slone.  Talked to the people downstairs, they got me a kayak trip the next morning, and a dive trip on Friday.  Easier than expected – not something I can say that often.  No emergence of depression/resignation.

Went to sunbathe on a nearby beach…which turned out to be more of a ledge than a beach, but no problem.  Actually quite a glamorous setting, waiters running around serving drinks and all that.  Caught some rays, then returned to the hotel to swim in the pool there.  Yep, the place also has a decent pool.  Kas must really have a plethora of hotels for a place like this to be so cheap.  Had a swim, then went up to my room to read and relax (even more).

Checked emails – got an email from friend Hira in Chiang Mai, he’s a 60+ Japanese retiree whom I met there in a yoga studio in late 2005.  He writes and sends friends his ‘postcards,’ short essays on life there.  He’s a perceptive and thoughtful fellow – I love his writing.  Perhaps I should gather the docs and share them with you at some point…remind me please.  This latest essay concerned sumo wrestling and how this once-noble sport has become crass and winner-take-all, with Mongolians and other foreigners brought in and lesser talents treated like animals.  One trainee was recently beaten to death in his dojo.  Food for thought…

Watched a Saturday Night Live video, with Tina Fey spoofing Sarah Palin.  Brilliant.  Tina Fey is a comic goddess, and SNL has a new raison d’etre.  Maybe there’s a silver lining in McCain picking her, after all.

It occurred to me that there’s perhaps also a silver lining to the Iraq War – we might finally have learned the lesson that it’s stupid to start a war on the Asian mainland.  We should already have learned that with Vietnam, but perhaps we only learned that we shouldn’t find in East Asia.  Now we’ve found that lesson also applies in West Asia.  Or, as Bush’s daddy once said (as played by Dana Carvey on SNL), we have learned the lesson of Vietnam – do not start a war in Vietnam.  Even the midget guy in ‘Princess Bride’ knew that Asia is a quagmire – I guess W. never saw that movie…

Am loving Kas.  It’s much smaller than Bodrum, Marmaris or Fethiye, and has a nice vibe.

Went for my first run in a week . Back felt fine.  Still a bit sore, but not crippling.  Had a beer afterward at Harry’s Bar, a good little place on the arcade.  Then went to a Turkish resto and had their signature dish, hunkar begenda, lamb cubes over eggplant and rice.  Delish.  For dessert, had asure, a fruit/nut/bean pudding that, as legend has it, was served on Noah’s Ark when they ran out of everything else.  Good, not great.  Much prefer kazandibi, baklava, supangle, etc.

Market falling again.  Whatever.  Feels like a bad round of a video game.  Am seriously thinking of taking a chance and buying some shares…might take a year or two for a rebound, but the upside can and should be huge at some point.

Went sea kayaking today.  There’s a ‘sunken city’ off the coast near Kas, near Kekova, and there are kayak trips over the ruins and around the coast.  Went with a small group, guided by Murad, an irreverent Turk who as it turns out has hung out in Goa.  Murad and I got along very well and traded lots of stories about the pleasures of Goa.  As for the kayaking, it was super – not the ruins, which were barely detectable, but the entire glorious day out on the bay.  My tripmates were mostly Aussies and were a lot of fun…we went swimming, had lunch on an island with a neat little village to explore, and ate some excellent peach and banana ice cream in a small shop overlooking the bay.  The island had a bunch of Lycian sarcophagi that were probably 2,500 years old.  Just to put things in perspective, you know…

Photos from the day  weren’t great.  Water got on the outer lens of my waterproof camera case when I took shots above the seas…and the underwater shots I tried, of the supposed ruins, didn’t come out at all.  I guess my technique of simply dunking the camera and hoping for the best was a shit idea.  Oh well.  A few of the OK shots from the day:

Ellen told me about a Rolling Stone magazine article about John McCain, which I read online.  Fairly disturbing character portrait – basically said that McCain is a spoiled Navy brat whose daddy got him nearly everything he wanted and overrode normal requirements and protocols to do so.  Not out of the ordinary when it comes to people like these, but it did seem completely at odds with McCain’s bid to portray himself as a man of the people who fights the power.  Hardly.

Watched the third and final Pres. debate.  Pretty annoying – McCain kept bringing up ‘Joe the Plumber,’ a shmuck who got in Obama’s face in Toledo, Ohio recently and complained about Obama’s tax proposal.  Meanwhile, turns out Joe, who supposedly wants to buy his own plumbing biz but is concerned about paying more taxes under Obama, isn’t even qualified to be a plumber in his home district, and is farther away from being a real entrepreneur than, say, your household pet is.  He’s being besieged by reporters and is a 15-minute celeb – giving interviews while leaning against his Dodge SUV.  This man is McCain’s meal ticket??  I think not.  Besides, McCain was his usual erratic self in the debate, misspeaking and throwing out 3-4 erroneous accusations with each volley that Obama patiently caught and corrected when his turn came round.  McCain needed a moon shot to advance in the polls…but he was probably at his worst.

I really do think his age has something to do with it – he’s just not steady.  Mark my words – within 2-3 years McCain will be diagnosed with a nervous/mental disorder.

Called Dad and chatted about politics and the economy.  Things seem fine at home – he’s ignoring the market woes and I think that’s the right call.

The Red Sox are down 3-1 to the Rays.  Tonight’s the 5th game.  They’ve come back from these sorts of deficits before, but it ain’t looking good.  Fingers tightly crossed.

Going diving tomorrow morning.  Turkey is a great place for adventures – motorbiking, diving, kayaking, hiking, and paragliding.  Tomorrow night am getting on a 15-hour bus ride overnight to Istanbul, where I’ll meet college friends Dri and Lisa, who are also sisters (to each other, not to me).  Am excited about hanging out with them in the big city, and probably traveling with them out to Cappadocia a few days later.  A few more weeks in Turkey are warranted, methinks.  So hang loose and stay close, Wanderlust Heaven readers.  I’m not going anywhere (where there isn’t internet access, that is).  Over and out.

‘The only one smiling is the one who hasn’t heard the latest news.’ — Bertolt Brecht

As I sat on the bus from Cannakale to Ayvalik, I mulled over my time in Cannakale.  I’d had a good time with Christian and with the Scottish lasses, including an odd but satisfying half-hour drunkenly reprising the greatest hits of the film classic Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang (‘Toot Sweet’ came out particularly well).  The walk through the farmlands outside ancient Troy with Christian also stood out, back in the moment I probably didn’t appreciate fully the richness of that experience.  At the same time, it was good to be solo again.  I hadn’t exercised, or relaxed, or written anything, in Cannakale, and the three days seemed, in retrospect, like a marathon.  I had enjoyed Christian’s lawlerly conversation style…but at the same time his Teutonic smugness and intensity dıd wear on me.  I’ve met lots of cool Germans on my travels – they’re much more relaxed than their elders, for sure…but with many of them, I’ve also found that they feel strongly that Germany is better than other countries (better, at least, at least the third-world country you meet them in, and perhaps your own country too) and they aren’t shy about telling you that.   There’s nothing wrong with being happy about being born in a first-world country, but I do think it’s not great form to walk around being so obvious about it.

So it was good to be able to sit and think without distraction.  The bus ride to Ayvalik was a bit choppy, had to switch from large bus to minivan after a while, and finally wound up at a bus station outside Ayvalik.  I threw in the towel and just took a taxi to my pension, Bonjour Pension, down near the harbor.  Dumped my stuff and wandered around town for a while.  I was dying to get in some diving, and Ayvalik is famed for its red corals, down about 40 meters a ways out to sea.  The pension owner made a call and found out that the Koftez Diving boat would be back in the harbor around 6:30 p.m.  I surmised that there was either no formal dive shop on land, or that there was but that it was enough to simply show up at their boat and take care of business there. 

Ayvalik the site of the first battle of the Turkish War of Independence, a war you’ve likely never heard a single thing about.  After WWI, the Allies picked over the carcass of the defunt Ottoman Empire and pretty much screwed the Turks out of everything.  Mustafa Kemal Ataturk and other Turkish leaders didn’t take that sitting down, and proceeded to fight for their homeland, eventually defeating the cheeky Greeks and convincing the British and French to vacate premises.  By 1923 they had recovered what is now Turkey, and proclaimed a republic.  There’s your history – and it started in Ayvalik, a little port city on the Aegean.

The dive boat returned, as advertised, at 6:30 p.m.  Spoke with the boys on the boat and signed up for their trip the next day.  Two dives, lunch, etc. for 80 lira – decent price, assuming good diving.  They do have a little shop, but it’s some ways off and most business takes place on the boat itself, which is massive and which has all the necessary equipment on board.  Pretty good system.  I was excited to break out my dive computer get under the waves, it had been around 5 months since my last dive.

Had dinner that night at a kofte (meatballs) place.  They bring out a salad of white beans, tomatos, and onions with olive oil, then the main event, a plate of grilled chunks of meat with bread, onions, and a few other things, including some terrific red hot sauce.  You don’t leave hungry.

Finished ‘The Book of Fathers’ that night.  I’d been working through this book, by Miklos Vamos, for a few weeks, it’s about the generations of a family, the first-born of which in each generation has the gift of clairvoyance.  Fairly depressing book, but sweeping and evocative as well – it takes you through 6 generations (I believe), from the 18^th century all the way through to current times.  Different sort of book – if you’re looking for something by an author you’ve never read, give it a try.  I’m sure you can pick it up on Amazon.com.

Next morning, got up early and had breakfast at the pension.  I’d met a very nice older Aussie couple, Ray and Bev, the day before when I checked in, and they were already at table when I got there.  Ray and Bev are veteran travelers and they were grilling another couple on Egypt and Syria.  I couldn’t be that helpful there, but when discussion turned to India I was able to chime in.  I do like these little sessions comparing notes – often much more helpful than gushing guidebook descriptions and outdated logistics.

Went to the dive boat, hoping for a great day of diving.  Met an Anglo-South African couple, Lee and Ika.  Lee used to work in TV and was endlessly entertaining…Ika is from the Cape and we exchanged stories about that place.  I haven’t been back to SA in 7-8 years and I think in 2009 I’ll finally return.

It was a fine day at sea, there was a bit of rain at first but it cleared up.  But the diving was just so-so – because of rough seas, we had to scrap the first two preferred dive spots and go for two different ones, and there wasn’t much red coral, or marine life.  I had my camera and waterproof case with me, and took some shots, but nothing was all that impressive.  To boot, I wasn’t thrilled with the equipment on hire – the divemaster strongly advised me to use 12 kilos of weights, whereas I usually use 6.  Part of the reason is that we were wearing wetsuits, and you need more weight to compensate for the buoyancy of these…at the same time, 12 kilos seemed excessive.  But everyone seemed to be wearing a lot of weight, so I went along.  When I descended, I found that I needed to constantly adjust my BCD (vest), usually adding a lot of air, and I felt heavy the entire time.  I understood the logic for erring on the side of having too much weight – I wouldn’t accidentally shoot to the surface and get the bends.  Still, it wasn’t a great call.

But I was better off than poor Lee, who had a leak in his BCD and eventually had to be taken by the hand by the divemaster and brought up to the surface.  Ugh.  It was the end of the season, and the equipment was in sore need of repair…still, I thought that Koftez Diving should have done a better job prepping everything, and ensuring that we ‘fun divers’ had working stuff.  Fun divers aren’t paying huge bucks for a dive course, so they’re generally left to their own devices – in this case, we were left too much alone.  I suspected that my BCD was also dodgy, so exchanged it, and also dropped my weights to 10 kilos, but my second dive only felt a bit better.  Oh well.  The day out was still worth it, but I wouldn’t recommend Ayvalik as a world-class dive spot.

A few photos from the day, above and below the waves – the guys caught a small octopus and were a little rough in handling it, IMHO:

Got back to shore.  Lee and Ika were racing off to the next town, Bergama – they had a tight timetable for their holiday.  I was going there the next day, and we said we’d meet (somehow) for a sundowner.  They didn’t know where they were staying, and I hadn’t arranged anything, except that I recalled a pension from my guidebook which had wireless – I’d probably try that out. 

Was starving – diving makes me hungry, and that goes double for diving while wearing too much weight.   Tried the famed Ayvalik Tost, which is two grilled pieces of bread stuffed with local sausage (not pork, not sure what it is), cheese, mayo, etc.  Better than it sounds – very filling. 

Found an internet café and watched the VP debate between Biden and Palin.  Palin held up fairly well, but it still came across like an exchange between an adult and a high school girl.  Colossal difference in knowledge and composure – Palin succeeded in that she didn’t stutter or make a huge gaffe, and was feisty.  She was obviously heavily coached and often was seen referring to her notes for various zingers…but no blood was drawn.  Palin pronounces ‘nuclear’ like W. does – mildly amusing. 

I thought that Biden was able to make lots of good points for his ticket, and to refute various mistruths that Palin (and McCain) had raised – I hope that Obama is using him fully and effectively, because he is a fairly impressive guy.  He must have had to hold himself back throughout the debate, and not appear to be piling on poor overmatched Sarah…who on 3-4 occasions completely blew off the moderator’s question and switched to energy policy or other non sequiturs.  Setting low expectations is a good strategy, it appears – only by doing so could one judge Palin’s performance as adequate.  Of course, hard-core GOP voters were thrilled – which only goes to demonstrate their own lack of cranial capacity.

Sad to imagine that after a 2-3-year presidential campaign that will probably cost $1 billion in total, we may just be a heart attack away from a President Palin.  Why does the American political system so often yield these unimpressive figures?  I’ve met countless people in work and in other settings who would make much better leaders than nimrod Sarah Palin (or John McCain).  Maybe they don’t want the job.

I finally got to see what commentator Gwen Ifill looks like, as she moderated the debate, quite ably I think.  I get the podcast ‘Washington Weekly’ and she’s the moderator of that session as well, it brings together 5-6 journalists each week to review the political goings-on.  Great 25-minute podcast, I learn a lot from it and highly recommend it.  You can get it on iTunes or from the PBS site.  Are any of you surprised that I’m a PBS fan??

Took it easy that night, even though it was Friday.  Was tired from the diving and lack of sleep in Cannakale.  Plus, I was moving on to Bergama the next day, and might be facing a big Saturday night in Bergama if I found Lee and Ika. 

Got up Saturday, went to breakfast and again sat with Ray and Bev.  Gave Ray ‘The Book of Fathers,’ thought he might enjoy it, and was happy to get the largish book off my hands.  Then checked out and walked to the bus stop to catch a dolmus (minivan) for Bergama.  The bus that eventually came by was full-sized, got on that and in an hour or so was in Bergama.  I love the way these Aegean and inland towns are so close together, it makes for simple bouncing from town to town and you can see quite a few places quickly.  Oftentimes I dislike traveling every other day, it seems too fast, but around here it seems just right.

The hills come close to the Aegean coast, the effect is rather dramatic and overall it’s a beautiful area.  No wonder the Turks fought so hard to get it back!

Thought a bit more about WWI and Gallipoli.  I’d seen trenches dug by the Aussies and by the Turks – interesting differences.  The Aussie trenches curve, they’re rarely straight for more than a few meters.  The Turkish trenches are simpler and straight.  The advantages of the former, made by the famed Aussie ‘diggers,’ is that if an enemy soldier takes your trench, he can’t mow down your buddies, he can only get a few soldiers at most.  Food for thought.

Got to Bergama, known in Roman times as Pergamum.  Was lucky to spot Gobi Pension from the main road, stopped my minivan and got off.  Great little place, I was met straightaway by Mustafa, the English-speaking son of the non-English speaking owner, and shown to my room.  Mustafa was heading off somewhere for a few days, but he got me settled first.  My room was big and clean, and they did indeed have wireless, so was able that night to do all my laptop tasks without hassle.

Spent a couple hours seeing the easier sights.  First, the Asclepion, an ancient medical center/hospital founded by famed Galen, the Greek doctor/scientist whose work served as the standard until the 16^th century.  Pretty cool.  The Asclepion is a short walk from the town center, and is a strangely compelling set of ruins.  En route, you gaze up and can see the hilltop Acropolis – I’d be heading there the next morning. 

Spent an hour wandering around the Asclepion, wondering about the work that went on there.  Saw a column with the emblematic snake heads:

Other Asclepion shots:

There’s a Turkish military base right next door to the Asclepion – strange location.  You’re not supposed to ‘point your camera towards the base,’ but of course everyone does.  Weird to see a pile of ordnance nearby a set of ancient ruins…

I have to say that my education (and memory, perhaps) is sorely lacking.  I’m not too sure I ever learned about the Asclepion or Galen in school, I did pick up some of this from my own reading.  Oh well, at least I’m curious and want to enhance my knowledge – that will get me somewhere.  But I wish that I’d come in knowing a lot more about ancient Greece and Rome, I feel like we covered those subjects in just a cursory sense in school, and now my aging brain won’t take in much more data…

Saturday night – no sign of Lee and Ika, not surprised.  Bergama is a small city, but it’s not a given that you’ll run into everyone you met in the previous stop.  And they were on a tight timeline, traveling each day to a new place.  Oh well.  Wasn’t unhappy to be able to wander around and do as I pleased.  Downloaded a few podcasts, took a short nap, and went out to eat and drink.  Found a place in town center with a big-screen TV showing some soccer, sat down and had a small feast.  It was a bit chilly, good weather for lying in bed and reading.  Decided to explore a bit more before heading home.  Far uptown, saw a ‘birahaynesi,’ a beerhouse, and went in.  Just when I was thinking that Turkey’s a bit prude (I had passed a place where some party was on, and lots of men were dancing together), this place gave me pause for thought.  I was directed towards a table, I sat down.  Immediately an unattractive middle-aged woman wearing a dress came over and sat with me.  Oh no, I thought, this is like Yalta – the female town drunk is hitting on me.  But no, turned out that this bar was different, the chicks here are working.  I don’t think they’re prostitutes, but they get paid to sit and drink (you pay) with you.  The women approach your table and shake your hand, then you can pick one.  They were all awful and I just drank my beer and fled.  I used to toilet upstairs before leaving…I was wondering what was going up there, but more of the same, nothing better or worse. 

It’s funny what you find when you wander out of the town center a bit.  I’d heard stories about Istanbul’s rip-off bars, where some friendly fellow invites you to join him for a beer, you wind up in a flashy bar, a couple women come over and join you, and then your bill is US$1,000.  This place in Bergama was nothing like that, but it was at least further evidence that there’s more to Turkish nightlife than sitting around puffing on a waterpipe and drinking tea. 

One month till the US elections.  Seems like Obama is pulling away from McCain – national polls have him ahead.  But national polls don’t mean all that much, given that we have the brilliant, contemporary Electoral College – invented in 1785 or thereabouts.  I have to laugh when people hold on so tight to these ossified practices.  The Electoral College, in a nutshell, was created to ensure that ‘proper gentlemen’ (i.e., electors) had the power to make the final presidential selection, and to try to force candidates to visit many states, not just a few.  Today, only 10-15 states are battlegrounds, and the rest of the states are ignored.  If we did away with this outdated practice, then the popular vote would be the deciding metric and states per se wouldn’t matter that much, you could campaign locally and win in micro-geographies. 

Other imperfections I think we should right:

-Americans should be required to register, and to vote.  What kind of ‘democracy’ is it where 50% of people don’t even vote, and a significant percentage aren’t even registered?  Of course, you know which party is against these changes…

-We should minimize the role of money in the process.  In the 1970s our infallible Supreme Court judged that spending money is free speech, hence money has become hugely important in campaigns.  In Israel, France, and other countries, they have a short election cycle (2-3 months), they have equal spending by candidates, a set number of debates, and perhaps no advertising for a week before the vote.  All good ideas. 

-Our schools should do a better job preparing us to be intelligent citizens and voters.  Easier said than done, of course…but if Americans were an intelligent, demanding bunch who learned from their stupid mistakes, do you really think Sarah Palin would be up there now??

The Red Sox won their first-round series against the Angels, despite the latter probably having more talent.  Who would have thought, years ago, that the Red Sox would be a clutch, experienced gang who knows how to win tough games?  Their reputation was precisely the opposite before 2004.  And this year they’ve had a crazy slew of injuries, it seems half the team is no longer with them or able to play:  Schilling, Manny, Lowell, Lugo.  But news guys and the young call-ups have stepped it up.  Bravo, boys.

Let’s hope they continue their march and can defend their title.  I’ve watched some of the games on my laptop, I have MLB.com and when there’s a wireless signal I can get the game, either live or afterward.  I may have to configure my travels in coming weeks so that I can watch the later-round games live…so far in my travels I’ve had incredible luck, I’ve never been on a plane during the World Series or Super Bowl, for instance.  I’ve lately put all these key dates on my Treo so I know not to break my streak…between these sports dates and my new Holidates application, my calendar is packed with information…

En route to the Gobi from the hostess bar, I passed a pharmacy whose display caught my eye.  They were displaying a variety of erectile dysfunction meds, from the major brands like Levitra and Cialis to a generic (legal?) called, appropriately enough, ‘ViaGrande.’  Improving on the original – is that worth a patent?  Didn’t expect to see a display of products like these in a Muslim country…

Had breakfast the next morning, sat near an American woman from Pittsburgh named Anne.  Our liberal views quickly came to the fore and we bonded…wound up sharing a taxi up to the Acropolis.  Anne was traveling with another Pittsburgher named Ray, she seemed to be getting sick of him – he’s a right-winger and despite having traveled extensively, he doesn’t seem to pick anything up, he’s a loud gringo through and through.  Charming.

When we got to the top, it was a bit windy, and clouds were looming.  Hmmm.  Ray had gotten an earlier start, he didn’t want to pay for a taxi so had hoofed it up.  We saw him after a while, he seemed a bit jealous that I was hanging out with Anne.  Hmmm.  We parted and checked out different parts of the Acropolis, which was very cool – spread across a large hill, imposing still.  The worsening weather made it more awesome – against dark skies the ancient ruins seemed more important and dramatic.  And the stadium, built right into the hillside, was unlike anything I’ve seen – very steep and perfectly incorporated into the natural features of the hill:

Not so many people there, didn’t feel overrun with tourists.  It finally began to rain, then pour, and get a bit chilly.  Everyone ran for cover under the ruins, Anne and I ducked under an arch.  At one point she was cold and put her arms around me for warmth (I think).  Good thing Ray wasn’t around to see that – he might have gone ballistic.  Anne’s staying right across the hall from me at Gobi and I wondered what the next few hours might have in store…

We finally deemed our Acropolis visit finished, and went to the carpark for a coffee.  Chatted about politics with the locals hanging out there, including one funny cab driver who began calling the little café the ‘Obama Café.’  We had caught up with Ray by this point.  Eventually we bundled Anne into the taxi driver’s cab, she was still getting over a bad case of pneumonia and it wasn’t a good idea for her to walk back to town, as Ray and I were planning to do.  The taxi driver drove off with her, and as he drove away he yelled out the window ‘Obama Taxi!’ I love it.

BTW, if this wasn’t already painfully obvious, only 99.5% of foreigners want Obama to win the election.  If we care about repairing our relations with the rest of the world, this is one way to start.

Lost Ray on the walk back to town – wasn’t sad about that.  As I got into town, the taxi driver went by and again yelled ‘Obama Taxi!’ at me.  I think Obama might want to hire this guy to drive around Alabama and do this for a few weeks…

Checked out the Red Basilica for a half hour.  This is a huge structure put up, apparently, to worship an Egyptian god, then converted to Christian worship by the Byzantines.  Large, and fairly impressive even in ruins:

Not sure what those Hebrew inscriptions are…were these tablets carried back from the Holy Land??

Got back to the town center.  Bought a bus ticket for the next day, to the large city of Izmir, my next stop.  Took a nap.  Went for a good, solid run as the sun set.  Felt pretty good about life.

Had given the pension some laundry that morning – now got it back.  Anne had also done a few pieces, and these had been put in my laundry bag, unbeknownst to me.  She knocked on my door as I got out of the shower – she asked if I had her stuff – I checked and found her bra and socks, which looked a lot like my socks.  That’s what you get when you buy the brand your dad recommends (Gold Toe, I guess it’s famous in Pittsburgh?). 

Had a late dinner at a little place, tried the local Bergama kofte, which was pretty good.  Had a beer and watched some soccer at one of the outdoor cafes, and thought about how nice this little city was.  Cool people, incredible ancient ruins, good food.  You need to try the tomatos from here, I think they’re the best I’ve ever had…

Heard that Palin is now harping on Obama’s associations with various characters from the Chicago area.  I wondered why Obama hadn’t gotten going on the ‘Keating 5’ scandal from McCain’s past.  I worried that this was a typical Democratic mistake, that they were ‘above’ such practices.  But no – right away the Obama campaign sent out flyers and emails with links to a short video about the Keating 5.  And friend Alan told me that Obama has a 24-hour satellite channel that just loops his ads.  Might have mentioned that last week, I forget – but anyway, this is not your father’s Democratic campaign.  And good thing, too.  Obama might actually win.

Got ready to depart Bergama.  Had breakfast with Anne and Ray before I left.  As I was getting up, I heard my name called and it was Ray and Bev, the Aussie couple, walking by.  Turned out they had met Ray the day before at the Red Basilica, had somehow found out that Ray had met me at the Acropolis and was staying at the same place, and had asked him to tell me that they were staying nearby.  Ray hadn’t told me any of that, not that I had seen much of Ray the previous night, just in passing.  Still, I was annoyed at him – felt like he had withheld some information.  Was he jealous that I had become friendly with Anne?  Sometimes people are really just pathetic.

Chatted with the Aussies for a bit, then went to get my bus.  While waiting, checked emails and news on my Treo.  Heard that a major quake had hit Kyrgyzstan, about 200 km from Osh.  A village was leveled and about 80-90 people died.  Poor Kyrgyzstan…plane crashes and earthquakes.  Oh well, at least they aren’t threatened with Sarah Palin…at least, not yet.  Do you think she can see Bishkek from the coast of Alaska?  Those are powerful glasses she has on…

Easy bus trip to Izmir, the third-largest Turkish city.  Izmir was formerly known as Smyrna, you may have heard of it.  Legend has it that the epic poet Homer (no, Governor Palin, not Homer Simpson) was born and/or lived in Smyrna around 700 B.C.  Can’t verify that, but the place certainly has an ancient past. 

Izmir isn’t a huge tourist draw, but is an attractive big city, with a huge harbor.  The city is spread around the harbor and sprawls onto the hills behind the harbor, and the setting is impressive.  The city itself is modern and not all that compelling, but it’s a pleasant place to spend 2-3 days.

Got in, checked into Hotel Imperial.  A bit closer to the train station than I’d like, train stations tend to attract the riff-raff and in this case it was no different, some seedy characters hanging out near my hotel (the street must have had 15 hotels, all lined cheek-to-jowl), and lots of random African guys there, quite odd for Turkey.  It’s a port, so you’d expect a fair number of lowlifes.  I made a note not to flash my iPod or Treo on the street, and to leave most of my ‘valuables’ in the hotel room.

Got on Facebook, for once, and left a comment in my ‘what are you doing now?’ line about getting hit on by a 53-year-old woman.  Within a few hours I must have had 10 people send me comments about this.  People spend way too much time on Facebook, and the internet in general.  Turn off the computer and call a friend…it’s much more rewarding.

My hotel was alright, same sort of place as Hotel Sen Palas in Istanbul.  Not your usual tourist hotel, I’m sure the usual customer is a Turkish small biznesman.  At least the bedsheets were clean.  There was a TV, switched that on to see if there were any international news channels.  Nope…but amongst the 14 channels they did have HustlerTV.  Now I was nearly certain this place catered to small biznesmen.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen this channel before…it wasn’t all that great, after two hours I got bored and switched it off.  The mosque’s just across the road and I didn’t want any bad vibes to float there…

Turkey is weird in this regard, as you’re probably coming to realize from my entries.  It’s a Muslim country with the usual hang-ups about gender, but I’ve spotted a few erotic shops in the bigger cities, found myself in that Bergama hostess bar, and now I’ve found HustlerTV in a hotel.  I’m personally all for a liberal society (and since when did ‘liberal’ become a pejorative term?), so I applaud these sorts of things.  But I can imagine the uproar they generate amongst the clergy and the holier-than-thou.

I’ve become addicted to simit.  It’s not a drug (per se), it’s a ‘Turkish bagel,’ a sesame seed-covered circular bread product that has some sort of grape enzyme or flavoring as its ‘secret sauce.’  I eat at least one per day, the vendors are everywhere and they cost one Turkish lira apiece.

Found a great bookstore in a little mall near the harbor – finally picked up a Turkish phrasebook, two weeks after entering Turkey.  And this shop has loads of guidebooks too, but I just ordered a bunch of Middle East guidebooks and had them sent to my friend Dri in New York, she’s coming to Istanbul mid-October and will hand them to me there. 

Walked for an hour or so along the Kordon, the harborfront promenade.  This place is the life of the city and everything happens there.  Very pleasant place to spend time…one of the better waterfront walks I’ve seen.  Did some running both nights I was in Izmir along the Kordon…it reminded me a bit of Mumbai’s Golden Necklace, the lights that shine on Marine Drive.

Not so many tourists in Izmir – saw a few Japanese wandering around, looking confused.  Also saw – no, heard – three Americans on the Kordon.  First, I heard the nasal voices, then I spotted them across the way.  Classic – one of them was carrying 5 large water bottles, the second was chatting away, and the third, probably the mother, was obese and was having trouble keeping up with the other two.  I cringed and walked along.  I dislike cringing but seem to do it fairly often…

Had a light dinner that night, then a couple beers at Passport, a somewhat flashy bar on the Kordon.  They were playing Café del Mar volume 5, one of the best Café del Mar discs, and I stayed longer than expected just to listen to the music.  The place was pretty dead but that was OK, I was in a mellow mood. 

Observation and question:  it’s incredible how many places can’t get the hot and cold faucets right.  It’s literally a 50-50 chance that when you turn on the ‘H’ or red faucet on the left, you’ll get hot, not cold, water.  Why is this?  I’m too lazy to investigate, but one of you might want to figure this out…

The PKK (Kurdish rebel party) attacked a Turkish army outpost near the Iraq border and killed around 20 soldiers.  Huge uproar in Turkey – this base has been attacked 5 times now, and the public wants to know why it’s still so vulnerable.  Good question.  There’s also demand for the army to go into Iraqi Kurdish territory (which is de facto autonomous these days) and kick some ass.  I don’t blame them.  Whoever’s pulling the strings in Baghdad these days had best take care of this.  I feel badly that the Kurds got screwed over the centuries, and never got their own country…but now they pretty much have it in northern Iraq, and have oil, and they should leave Turkey alone. 

Another question:  which one of you clowns gave my email address to ChristianDating.com and ViagraLords?

Did the rounds in Izmir and saw the main sights.  The Agora, the old Roman marketplace, is right in the middle of the city and is worth a half-hour.  Not that much left, but evocative nonetheless.  Took a bus to the heights of the city, to the fort of Kadifekale, which had terrific views of the entire city:

Spent an hour in the Archeological and Ethnographic Museums, which are side-by-side – for once, something convenient for tourists.  Then I was through with sight-seeing and had some time to mill around the bazaar and find something good to eat.

Couldn’t find a place called Tabaklar, which has locally-famous dil shish, or fish kebabs.  The Izmir bazaar’s streets are labeled, but in no apparent order – I was unable to figure out where Sokak 873 was.  I got to 863, and 872, but even with a map it was not happening.  Oh well.  I just had a doner kebab, then decided to try some of the Turkish desserts I’d forgone thus far.  First, supangle, which is to chocolate pudding what Joe Biden is to Sarah Palin.  Or something like that.  It looks like your average chocolate pudding, but is quite milky and is just richer than Midas.  The name sounds like ‘zuppa inglese,’ a custard dessert dish I recall having eaten elsewhere – not sure where ‘supangle’ comes from – reader Ari is our resident foodporn king and might want to investigate… 

I was like a stoned teenager as I stood there on the street corner scooping it into my mouth.  Second, bal kaymak, buttermilk drizzled with honey – absolutely seizure-inducing stuff.  You mix up the buttermilk and honey and go to town – wow.  It’s surprising that Turks aren’t fatter, their foods are out of this world.

Was thirsty after my sugar binge, got a fresh orange juice.  The clerk spoke some English, we chatted for a while.  He wants to get a U.S. Green Card and work there – must be desperate.  At least he is aware of the financial mayhem, but I guess he really wants to go anyway.  He asked me a number of immigration-related questions that I was actually able to answer…but I’ll bet if he leaves Turkey he’ll miss it immediately.  Sometimes better the devil you know…

Listened to a few podcasts – there was a Discovery piece on Americans addicted to plastic surgery.  Scary stuff – some people are utterly without any anchor in their lives.  I’d say this only happens in America, but it’s probably even more rampant in South America.  Whatever happened to exercise and diet??

That night I walked down the length of the Kordon – well, much of it – to the northern part of town.  There’s a restaurant and bar district there, I had a kebab and then a couple beers at an outdoors café.  The 2^nd U.S. presidential debate was coming up, I was curious about how that would go.  Went back to the hotel to get some rest, read a magazine called ‘The Sun’ that Anne in Bergama had given me, it’s a pretty cool publication with a solid roster of writers and loads of letters written by readers.  Provocative articles – one was by David Grossman, who’s been called ‘Israel’s moral voice.’  I’d like to subscribe to The Sun, but not till I’m in one place and can more readily receive my mail.

Next morning, got up early to check out the debate news.  Had a quick breakfast of mercimek (lentil soup) at a café near the train station.  This was my second consecutive breakfast there, and they don’t get many tourists, so I stood out.  The waiter was a friendly guy – he saw my English newspaper and pointed to a photo of a distraught-looking guy on the front page.  I assumed it was a Wall Street trader…but no, it was a soccer team coach who had just been forced out.  God bless the Turks – not only are they friendly and helpful to a fault, but they aren’t so preoccupied with money that they forget about everything else.  A very good lesson for the rest of us…

Watched the debate on the internet.  Had some trouble finding it – finally tracked it down on MSNBC, which is probably the most reliable site for these sorts of videos.  I also watched the Saturday Night Live version, with Tina Fey as Palin – classic.  Talk about nailing your subject – she should win an Emmy, or whatever the right prize is for this category of acting.

The debate:  not conclusive by any means, not game-changing.  Good for Obama in that regard.  McCain did not look robust, or even that steady.  Admittedly I’m biased, but I was somewhat surprised that 1) McCain wasn’t nearly as good as advertised in the town hall format he’s renowned for ‘owning’ – Obama looked a lot more comfortable and adept, and 2) perhaps it was just bad video/audio quality, but McCain seemed to do a lot of word repetition, he repeated his previous two words on 7-8 occasions during the debate.  I think there’s a medical condition in which the patient often repeats his previous phrase – and I wonder if McCain’s age is catching up with him.  He’s certainly in good form for a 72-year-old man, but I remember thinking that Reagan was losing it in 1984, when he was around that age, and I was right.

That done, I returned to Hotel Imperial and checked out.  No trains till that night to my next stop, Selcuk, home of the famed Ephesus ruins.  So I had to get to the Izmir Otogar (main bus station), a few km outside town.  This is always a bit of a pain, particularly if you don’t yet have your ticket.  If you do, you can usually hop a servis (free minibus) to the otogar, otherwise you need to get there on your own.  I could have taken a taxi straight there, but that would not be cheap.  I pieced things together, taking a short taxi to the Konak bus station, then found a local bus going all the way to the otogar.  Pretty cheap, and I got to hang out with a busload of locals.  One old fellow made sure I got out at the right stop – very kind of him.  Turks couldn’t be nicer people – one of the best things about this country.

Got to the otogar, found the right area.  Right away, I was hailed by a fellow who asked me my destination.  I told him, he pointed at his little bus right there.  I asked the price, it was cheap.  Turned out he also has a guesthouse in Selcuk – and it was where I had made a booking.  I looked in my guidebook, as he suggested, and his name was in there, in the description of Nazar Hotel in Selcuk.  The fellow, Osman, and his brothers and family have a nice little integrated operation here – bus from Izmir to Selcuk, popular (and good) guesthouse in Selcuk, tours, food, etc.  Osman and I chatted while we waited for the bus to leave – mostly about America, including how McDonald’s is getting popular in Turkey and how little Turkish kids are getting fat as a result.  Turkish food isn’t that light, but they eat lots of vegetables and yogurt…the problem is that kiddies like burgers and french fries and Ronald McDonald, like kids everywhere, and the diet is changing.  Sad story.  Maybe I’ll sell my recently-purchased McDonald’s stock – nah.

The one-hour bus ride was uneventful.  The bus dropped me off right near the guesthouse – where Osman’s brother was waiting.  Man, these guys keep a tight leash on you.  It’s nice to come across such a turnkey operation when you’re a weary traveler, but my spidey sense does go off when I feel like I’m being controlled.  In the guesthouse, I checked in, and met a young lady who had spent time in Virginia.  I told her I went to UVA for b-school, she opened her jacket and there was a UVA t-shirt.  Small world.  Of course, she then wanted to sell me a carpet.  And I hadn’t even dropped my pack yet.  The place also offered me a tour of Ephesus, Ephesus books, dinner that night, you name it.  Felt a bit too commercial.  I suppose older, less independent travelers like that short of thing – one-stop shopping – but I don’t.  I like to spread my business and money around – I don’t mind throwing a bone to the guesthouse now and then – laundry, water, a meal – but not everything.  If you concentrate your spending too much, some places will wither and then you have less on offer.  It’s hard to strike the right balance between being helpful and being commercial, and not many places get it right…

Ephesus is the best-preserved Roman city in the eastern Mediterranean.  That’s what I had come to see.  It’s a touristy place, but I’d heard it was worth the torture.  I’d see that the following morning.  For now, I visited the nearby sights.  First, the Basilica of St. John the Evangelist, one of Jesus’s apostles.  He came to Ephesus twice, and supposedly died right here.  Legend has it that the Virgin Mary joined him, and lived nearby.  John wrote one the big four gospels and also the Book of Revelation, my personal favorite for its trippy descriptions of the end of days.  Not that I believe any of this shit, mind you – I’m not the President of the United States.

The basilica was a good place to hang out – very few tourists, and its hilltop location was peaceful and impressive.  The ruins are in decent shape and I spent an hour wandering around them.  The good thing about visiting these places in Turkey is that they let you go up to the ruins and really see them – some areas are roped off, but they’re not overly restrictive.

Then visited the Ephesus Museum, which has many pieces found in the ruins outside town.  Lots of sculptures and images of Eros and Priapus, my personal favorite (cue the Beavis & Butthead sountrack):   

Took it easy that night. Went to Old House Restaurant and had a good meal…checked emails…called home but couldn’t get Dad or Ellen.  Downloaded some songs recommended by brother-in-law Dave, including a couple gems:  In Five Years’ Time by Noah & the Whales, and Suburban Knights by Hard-Fi.  Went to sleep, excited about getting up and seeing the ruins of Ephesus.  Will cover those in my next entry…I feel like I’ve covered a lot of places already, seems like a long time since I was in Ayvalik, where this entry began.  Over and out.

Will try to keep this entry relatively short, despite a news- and event-filled week.  Met up with a b-school classmate who’s from Istanbul named Asli, she was a year ahead of me at Darden but we both think we probably met once or twice while there.  She was kind enough to meet me for tea in Taksim Square, tell me about her life, and give me the scoop on where to go and what to see/do in Turkey.  Her husband is in a restaurant group that owns a number of ritzy joints in town, so might check some of these out when next in Istanbul in a few weeks…

Continued to agonize over the stock market.  Heard that Warren Buffet bought a ton of Goldman Sachs shares…so, being the independent and thorough thinker that I am, I jumped in and did the same – I bought approximately 0.00003% the amount that Buffet did.  So there.  I’m sure he appreciates my support.

Got a call from Ken in Madrid.  He manages to track me down in odd spots – Mongolian dumpling cafes, Russian churches, and Turkish koftecisi (meatball restaurants). 

Had moved from Sultanahmet to Beyoglu, across the Galata Bridge.  Beyoglu is a genuine Istanbul ‘hood and has far fewer tourists than Sultanahmet – but there are still a fair few honkies running around here.  I checked into the Hotel Sen Palas, a modest operation that was budget-friendly.  The room was only a bit larger than my Odessa-Istanbul cabin, but at least I wasn’t sharing with three crazed Turks and I even had a little bathroom to myself.  I suspect 99.99% of this hotel’s guests are traveling Turkish biznesmen – the rooms were a bit smoky but not too bad.

Beyoglu is centered on modern Istanbul’s main drag, Istiklal Caddesi, which is a great place to walk around.  Lots of little restaurants and shops line it, and the side streets are absolutely packed with bars and music halls.  One of the more sociable areas I’ve ever seen – there are some little streets that are wall-to-wall drinking establishments and restos.  Reminded me of some of Madrid’s livelier neighborhoods.  Was happy that I had moved over here – I was OK with Sultanahmet, but it feels pretty artificial, life-support for the Aya Sofya and Blue Mosque.

News of the financial crisis was never far away, though.  I could even make out headlines in Turkish newspapers that covered this topic, and the foreign papers spoke of nothing else.  The two US presidential candidates did their fair share of posturing, while saying nothing of note.  McCain probably came out looking worse, however, when he ‘suspended’ his campaign and flew to Washington to ‘deal with’ the crisis.  This consisted, from all accounts, of sitting with all the other bigwigs in a room at the White House and saying nearly nothing for a half-day or so.  I don’t expect McCain and Obama to really have much of an impact – yet – on the crisis, but at least don’t grandstand and take credit for doing nothing.  Talk about a stupid, impulsive gambit – McCain really shouldn’t be president, his judgment has gotten increasingly questionable and perhaps desperate. 

On that topic – Sarah Palin.  I’ve seen a few clips from her Couric debate, and read more about her – very scary.  This woman is the female George W. Bush – dumb, inarticulate, and without an ounce of grace.  The V.P. debate is tonight, will try to watch some of that, but no matter what happens I think Palin is completely unacceptable and she’s just more evidence that McCain has become so cynical he’ll do and say anything to win the election.  Sarah Palin…Dan Quayle.  Where do the Republicans find these clowns?

Watched the first Pres. debate.  Fairly even, but McCain looked pretty angry, very patronizing, and I thought Obama at least held his own.  Polls look to have picked him as the winner, for the most part.  Bravo.

I’d love to see a talkshow where a leading scientist debates a leading Republican politician about evolution and the origins of the planet.  Many of our so-called leaders today believe the earth is only 5,000 years old, and that evolution is a myth.  To be fair, there are Democrats in this camp as well, but suffice it to say that the GOP has stewardship of these sorts of insane beliefs.  I blanch whenever I’m talking with another traveler or a local out here and they ask me about religious lunatics running the US…it’s not as if I can accurately refute their assertions.  What a sorry state to be in – from an admired, emulated nation to one that’s the laughingstock of much of the world.  Thanks, George Bush & Co.

The weather was pretty crappy in Istanbul, so I tried to spend much of my time indoors.  Went to the Military Museum, which is a massive complex with some very good exhibits.  The chief reason I went was to see part of a huge chain that the Byzantines put across the Golden Horn to prevent Ottoman ships from entering and shelling the city from the north.  It worked, but only temporarily – Mehmet the Conqueror just had his ships put in across the peninsula, had them placed on wooden rollers, rolled them up and down the hill to the other side, put into the Golden Horn, and it wasn’t long afterwards that the city fell. 

There was also a room dedicated to the Armenian Genocide (my word, not the museum’s) controversy.  The purpose of the room was to show documents and bloody photos in an attempt to depict the Armenians as equally to blame, as terrorists and instigators.  I need to read more about this period before I feel comfortable making strong statements here, but I have read that Hitler was inspired by this murderous period (and by the Boer War).  Draw your own conclusions…

The rain and wind picked up when I was walking home, so I ducked into the Hilton to escape, and had the opportunity to watch satellite news of the ongoing financial meltdown.  Hellacious storms outside, financial storms inside – is there nowhere to run?

That night, was in a bar nursing an Efes when I got an email from friend Don in Seattle – Washington Mutual just collapsed/got taken over.  This was no surprise, but it was still the largest failure in US history and yet another brick in the wall.  Don wrote that much/all of his savings were in company stock (Don, feel free to comment and correct me – or curse me for being so loose-lipped), so his retirement fund is now approaching zero.  His solution?  Go to Dublin for a few days and relax.  Much better than sitting around moping, huh?

Was now the weekend.  Asli was not feeling well, so didn’t meet up with her – too bad, she would have made a great nightlife guide.  My other contact, former colleague Kristina, was stranded in NYC and wouldn’t be back till Sunday.  Oh well, I was on my own – I can handle that.  I did have an appointment, as the Japanese say, for Saturday night, with a friend of former colleague Katie.  So I wouldn’t be that lonely in the big city…

Friday night was mostly spent walking around Beyoglu and it’s ‘eat streets.’  There are 2-3 alleys that, as I wrote earlier, are full of cool little places to sit and drink/gossip/eat/watch sports on the tube.  I did a bit of all of those, and turned in around 2 a.m. 

Woke up Saturday and watched the presidential debate on the Internet.  See above.

Walked over the Ataturk Bridge to Sultanahmet, to visit the Archeology Museum.  Stopped for food several times along the way – as in Spain, in Turkey I prefer not to sit for a huge formal meal, but to snack non-stop.  Had a superb fish sandwich – sardine?

Walked in the rain to the museum, which had an extensive collection befitting a country at the crossroads of much of the world.  Assyrian stele…Greek and Roman sculptures…loads of stuff from Byzantine and Ottoman times…relics and histories of Troy…and sarcophagi from an excavation at Sidon, now in Lebanon, which included a stunning tomb, called the Alexander Sarcophagi, which I’d never heard of, but which looks like it was created last week and is just awesome in its decorative might:

Around 6 p.m. I met up with Zee, friend of Katie, who is half-Turkish/half-British.  We met because Katie had read on Facebook that I was sampling food from every vendor in Istanbul, and Katie has spent a lot of time here and knows some folks from various sailing trips around the country.  Katie then put me in touch with Zee, and we made plans to meet.  I’m highly equivocal about Facebook, but once in a while it pays dividends, and I should be better about keeping it more up-to-date.

Zee was funny and friendly, and is quite skilled at getting you to open up and expose your inner self.  We met at a famous Turkish landmark – Burger King, in Taksim Square.  Didn’t eat there…it’s just an easy place to meet.  Had a nice hours-long chat with her – at Galata Tower, with its terrific views, over beers at a placed called something like ‘lemon courtyard’ (in Turkish, of course), and over meze in one of the alley meyhanes (taverns).  Capped things off with desserts at a classic old place – Zee challenged me to name one of the dishes, a puffy white concoction which was delicious and unlike anything I’d ever tried.  I got creative and guessed it was something from an animal, i.e. meat – very close.  Turned out to caramelized chicken breast, called kazandibi here.  The meat is basically turned into a soft, creamy substance with loads of sugar etc.  Much better than I describe it.

I was a bit woozy when we finally parted ways and I wobbled back to Hotel Sen Palas – whose staff got a real kick out of me.  Hotel people seem to like me these days – that was not always the case.

Next day I spent a couple hours touring Topkapi Palace, former home of the sultans.  Highlights:

-an 86-carat diamond, I think the biggest I’ve come across.  It was found in the trash somewhere in Istanbul, sold (thought fake) for a couple watches or something similarly worthless, finally recognized as a treasure, and purchased by the monarchy. 

-a room that could tell some stories

-far more interesting – in the ‘Relics Room,’ a series of ancient objects that made me raise my eyebrows.  First, the sword of Prophet/King David.  About 1000 B.C.  Hmmm.  Next, Moses’s staff, a long knobby stick that looked like a fresh branch.  Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.  What was next, I asked myself – Abraham’s jockstrap?  Nope, nothing like that.  Only Abraham’s saucebowl.  Right.  I couldn’t help but giggle, and the Filipino family behind me was also highly skeptical.  What a laugh.  The various swords and other objects of Prophet Mohammed – no problem, 630 B.C. isn’t that ancient.  But Abraham’s pottery from 2000 B.C.?  Right.

I was surprised that a prophet had so many swords…but those were violent times.  As are these, in a sense.  I read somewhere that since WWI, there hasn’t been a single day of peace on the planet – there’s always been some war on.  Haven’t verified that, but go ahead if you’d like.

After that shocker – who knew Abraham’s stuff was in Istanbul? – I walked over to Galata Bridge, and had a beer at the same café I’d been to on day 1, with Hartmut.  Watched the sun set, then walked back to my hotel.  It’d been a great week in Istanbul, and it was soon time to move on.

Took it easy that night – had a kumpir (stuffed potato) for dinner, a couple Efes, then retreated to the hotel.  Exchanged emails with financial advisor/friend Yuhin, and also with Dri, who’s coming to Turkey in a few weeks.  We’ll meet in Istanbul, along with her sister Lisa, and then figure things out from there.  They’re likely to go to Cappadocia and go hot-air ballooning…I might join them.

Meant to get my laundry back from the little shop near my hotel, but it was closed Sunday.  I was planning to get up early Monday and go to the bus station, en route to my next stop, Cannakale, but now I was stuck waiting for the shop to open.  Thankfully he was there before 8 a.m., so didn’t upset my plans.  Packed my stuff, bid adieu to the Sen Palas gang, and hopped on the Istiklal tram up to Taksim, where I’d get on a bus to take me to the long-distance bus station (Istanbul Otogar).  En route I saw a couple Reese Witherspoon ads – jeez, they really love her all over the planet.

I also thought I spied an Adam Mickiewicz Museum sign – didn’t know the Polish poet-hero was popular here too.  Must be some story associated with that…

The Otogar is a massive place, with scores of bus companies vying for your business.  But only a few go to each destination, I tracked down one, Cannakale/Truva, and went with that one.  Wasn’t as cheap as I’d hoped, but the other companies had the same price and later departures, so there I was.

I was going to Cannakale to visit the WWI Gallipoli peninsula sites, and to see nearby Troy.  I won’t get much into the history of these places, they’re pretty well-known and hey – do a bit of research if you’re clueless.

Met a personable German lawyer named Christian on the ferry that we took from the Europe to the Asia side of the Dardanelles.  The straits are wide there, and quite busy:

Got to Cannakale, Christian came with me to Yellow Rose Pension, where I had a booking.  They had plenty of rooms, so he got one too.  We unpacked a bit, then went out for a beer.  And didn’t come back till 1 a.m. or so.  Started in a courtyard bar called Han Bar…met some Turks there who led us to an upstairs bar with a killer harbor view, and we sat, drank and smoked there for a few hours.  Had a lot of fun with our new Turkish friends, and got fairly drunk.  I vaguely recall speaking lazy French with one Turkish lass who had studied in Paris.  Around midnight or so, we were starving (no dinner yet – the British approach, ‘eating is cheating’) and wandered around till we found a great little place that had 1) mussles/moules served Turkish style, 2) little beef-puffs, and 3) Turkish meat tartar wrapped in leaves – all delicious, really.  We sat and ate and talked with the locals for a good hour (the waitress was super-cute), and spent a fair amount of lira, all worth it.

We finally stumbled home and called it a night – we had the Gallipoli tour the next day.  A fun, random sort of day – travel at its finest!

Gallipoli brings loads of Aussies and Kiwis out this way.  Christian asked one young Aussie woman why Gallipoli was so important to Aussies – I thought her answer quite lazy, she just said something like ‘it’s a very sad place.’  I had told Christian that my understanding from knowing many Aussies is that Gallipoli is the place where their young nation (only 14 years old by that point) came together and forged a common, unique (i.e., non-British) identity.  Maybe my understanding was incomplete, but I’ve heard that from quite a few Aussies and read it in a number of places – I was sort of annoyed by her basic, superficial answer.  Oh well. 

The first few sites were in and around Anzac Cove, where the Aussies and Kiwis first came ashore.  Controversy exists as to whether this was the intended beach, or whether the currents took them too far north.  Regardless, this is a brutal place to come ashore – the beach is small, and it quickly comes to higher ground, and then to steep hills.  One Turk could probably hold off 50-100 invaders from there – and they generally did.  Just an awful mess for the Allies, all round:

Subsequent sites included Lone Pine and Chunuk Bair, the latter the highest spot on the peninsula.  Kiwis actually managed to seize this spot, in an August offensive (the initial invasion was on April 25, 1915), but couldn’t hold it in the face of a large Turkish counter-offensive.  And that was that, the campaign ended a few months later when the entire force was withdrawn (successfully).  What a waste of lives – the trench warfare, the charges over no-man’s land…too sad for words. 

We also saw a Turkish memorial – obviously, the Turks also consider Gallipoli as a sacred place, and hey – they won the battle. 

When constructing this memorial, to the Turkish 57^th battalion, which was totally wiped out, they found the following:

On the way back to Cannakale, we were with a couple of fun Scottish women who were also going to Yellow Rose, to check in for the night.  We wound up going out for mussels at the little place with the cute waitress…then to one of the pricey waterfront restos where we spent way too much loot…and finally back to the upstairs bar, where we saw a few familiar faces, but I was eventually tortured by a Turkish-American who had evidently been deported for criminal acts and wanted to be my friend.  He had huge rings on all of his fingers, a bunch of tattoos, and I wasn’t up for his sob stories about not fitting into Turkish society.  We cut out and went back to Yellow Rose – had to get up early to go see Troy. 

We didn’t take a tour of Troy, we did it ourselves – unlike Gallipoli, it’s a compact place and there’s no need to spend a pile on a tour.  We found a minibus heading out there, then walked around for a couple hours.  Much larger than I expected – and Christian was impressed, because his mother had been there and had said there wasn’t much to see.  We disagreed – you could tell there had been a large city (series of layered cities, actually) there, and the setting as well was cool.  The mouth of the Dardenelles looms a couple kilometers away, you could imagine the lower city and farms under the city walls, stretching all the way to the beaches.  Imagine the Achaean Greeks coming ashore and invading.  The place drips with history, and I was fascinated by it all.  I had forgotten my old mythology stories – how Aeneas fled burning Troy and how his offspring in Italy helped found Rome.

Pic 7 above is the original Schliemann trench.

After seeing Troy, we decided to walk to the modern town we saw in the distance.  Christian really wanted to walk for a while, I was indifferent but gave in and joined him.  Saw Troy back in the distance – good hilly place to put a settlement:

Funny adventure – we got close to the city, but there was a fairly broad creek in our way, and no bridge.  Had to backtrack about halfway, a good 15-20 minutes, then there was a road over it.  Walked again towards the city – and came to another part of the creek.  Saw a vehicle and driver at one stretch, the driver was filling up huge tanks with creek water – probably mixing pesticides.  Charming.  But he saw us stuck on the far bank, we motioned and he nodded.  After a few more minutes of mixing he drove across and fetched us – we hung on for dear life as the monster machine churned across the foul waters and onto the far bank.  We hopped off and thanked the guy – nice little vignette of Turkish friendliness.

Wandered into town.  Found the main street, had a chay (tea) in a little café, then found a place selling sandwiches – hallelujah, it was now about 3 p.m. and we were both starving.  Sat inside and were joined by a fellow who we had thought was the owner or at least a café staff, but he turned out to be the barber in the shop next door.  He was kitted out very nattily – and was an amiable guy.  Ramadan was over and people were kicking back – they called it Bayram here, it’s analogous to Eid al-Fitr in the Arabic world, more or less.  We joined the barber for a few beers – had our sandwiches, and a few of his cigarettes.  Spent an enjoyable if odd hour with the barber and the denizens of the café, apparently this place was where people hung out and met.

The barber tried very hard to communicate with us, and we had some breakthroughs, particularly when he went up to the ‘Efes Girl 2008’ bikini poster and kissed the model’s lips.  He then motioned that he cut hair for a living – I motioned that most of my hair is between my legs but that he isn’t allowed to cut that.  He found that hilarious and that was, I think, when he decided we weren’t asshole foreign tourists but just regular guys like him…

Finally discovered that this town was Kumkale, wasn’t on my guidebook map but it was on Christian’s monster map of Turkey.  The barber got us on a bus back to Cannakale, and Christian and I laughed about our little adventure, which had included climbing over barbed wire on the back side of the Troy site and wandering through farmer’s fields that have probably been growing tomatos and other crops for 5,000 hours if not far more than that.  A jaunt through history, indeed.

Last night in Cannakale.  Bought my onward bus ticket to Ayvalik, which I’ll describe next week.  Showered.  Ate more mussels and meat thingies at the little place near the harbor.  Cute waitress wasn’t there, so I didn’t linger.  We watched ‘The Fatal Shore,’ a Gallipoli documentary, at the pension.  Impactful, lots of interviews with Aussie and Kiwi vets of the conflict, as well as one with a Turkish survivor.  Then went out for a great dinner with lots of meze and a bottle of raki, which is slowly growing on me.  It won’t displace beer or regular wine, but I’m easy.  Had a couple more beers, then called it a night.  Christian was returning to Istanbul the next morning, and I had a morning bus to catch as well.

The Red Sox won theır fırst playoff game agaınst the Angels.  And NBA traınıng camps have already started – seems lıke days ago that the Celts won the championship.

Woke up this morning – water problem in the pension.  I ‘showered’ using a weak stream of water from the sink, then packed.  Exchanged contact details with Christian, then walked to the bus station.  My next round of adventures awaits, including, I hope, a day of diving on the red corals off the coast of Ayvalik, not far from the Greek island of Lesvos.  By this time next week I hope to see Obama’s lead widening, Palin even more of a laughingstock, and some sort of bill passed by Congress to calm the markets.  And, of course, a partridge in a pear tree.  Over and out.     

My final day in Odesa, and by extension Ukraine, was fairly lazy, even by my standards.  It had gotten pretty cold and felt a lot like New England…the old buildings, the falling leaves, the crisp air.  My overnight bus trip had worn me out, and I just felt like lying about reading…but managed to get up and do some strenuous exercises:  abdominals, resistance cord, and then a good run around Shevchenko Park as darkness fell.  It’s rare I manage to put those different exercise bits together – afterwards  I felt simultaneously refreshed and spent.

Hotel Passazh had a ‘European Business Center’ downstairs which had wireless, so got on the web.  Exchanged Skype messages with John in Shanghai, who was in ballistic mode because he’s been drinking the local milk and realized that he might have consumed 10 liters of milk in the past couple months – milk that might have contained melamine, of which you’ve by now no doubt heard.  I completely understood his fury – even though it comes with the territory, in China things are rarely what they seem.  The scandal is even showing up on Ukrainian television.

Checked out the ‘Chumby,’ a bizarre, nearly formless Internet-enabled device thatcan do about 100 different things, but seems to have no core application.  Anyone have one of these?  Thoughts?  Seems to be a poster child for retail therapy, methinks…

Friday night – not in an especially frisky mood.  Had a couple beers at Mick O’Neills…walked by Captain Morgans but it was packed and they were turning people away…ducked into Pobeda but it had a weak vibe and didn’t feel that inviting.  I decided to take it easy and not try for a memorable last night in Ukraine.  And, in truth, I was ready to roll on.  I had generally liked Ukraine, and Odesa in particular is an excellent city…but four months in the ex-Soviet lands had been enough.  If I had had a great social network here, it would be different, but I was ready for things to come a little easier – logistics, social life, etc.  In SouthEast Asia everything’s at your fingertips, and making friends is effortless.  I think it’s still my favorite region, but am keeping an open mind and I do enjoy the contrasts between places.  Ukraine and Turkey – that will be a huge contrast, I’m sure.

Saturday midday, went down the Potemkin Steps to the boat terminal, where I was supposed to register for that evening’s boat to Istanbul.  Registration was predictably annoying – the UkrFerry window was shut and the sign had ’13.30’ as the time of re-opening.  It was now ’13.50’.  Re-opening actually occurred at ’14.25’ so I had stood there for over a half-hour, along with a slew of other passengers and hangers-on.  I had spotted the boat, the MV Caledonia, on my way into the terminal – fairly large, although not luxury-cruise size.  Probably the largest boat I’ve been on since my time in the Philippines…I should make an effort to do more sea journeys.  But I’m getting ahead of myself here…

Finally registered, was told to return at 7 p.m. for boarding.  Easy enough.  Had a few hours before then, mostly spent them walking around the city, taking in the sights and sounds.  Noticed a bank advertisement offering 10% deposit returns on US$.  Returns on the Ukrainian gryvnia were more like 17%, but the inflation rate is high here so that would eat away much of that.

Tried to use the balance of my mobilephone credits.  Can check emails here with my phone, so have been especially good about staying on top of them – feels a bit like being back at work, but I do hate have 75 emails in my inbox.

Took care of stupid little things (which could snowball and become issues), like repairing my backpack raincover.  This sheet, from REI, is useful in protecting my pack from dust and dirt as well as rain, but it’s a bit flimsy and gets torn easily.  Found a store selling ‘scotch’ (that’s what scotch tape is called out here), bought a roll and fixed up the cover.  Felt a minor sense of accomplishment.  I wouldn’t say I was killing time – fixing the cover truly was important, OK? – but I was semi-anxious to get on the boat and head out on the Black Sea already.

Walked by a Turkish restaurant, Turkuaz, which was offering some meal deal.  Tempting, but I’d be in Turkey soon enough.  Turkish and Greek food are amongst my favorites and I fully expect a gastronomic blowout once I hit Istanbul…there are so many superb cuisines in this world, it’s hard to imagine more diversity and better offerings.  If I had to choose a last meal, I’d have real trouble doing so.

There seem to be no KFCs in Ukraine – odd.  Plenty of McD’s, zero KFCs.  I’d always thought, and I’m sure written in this blog, that fried chicken is the world’s favorite food, pizza perhaps being right up there too.  But that doesn’t seem to be the case out here.  I stand corrected…

Walked to the hotel to get my pack.  Went by a shop blasting out the New Radicals song ‘You Get What You Give,’ a great track on a great album.  I think the New Rads only had that one album, not sure what happened to them.

Got my pack.  Wanted to take a taxi down the hill to the boat terminal, was told by hotel reception it would cost 20-25 gryvnia.  But when I went outside and talked to the cabbies hanging out there, they wanted 50, and wouldn’t budge.  It’s always better to flag down a cabbie in motion than one parked at a stand, but I didn’t see anyone coming so was forced to deal with the cabbies at hand.  They were obviously in legion on this – I asked 3, and got the same response.  Well, fuck them.  I wasn’t paying US$10 for a 2 kilometer ride down the hill, I wanted to save my remaining gryvnia for food/drink at the terminal or on the boat.  I hitched up my pack and walked.  I had just enough time and, besides my basic economic objection, I refused to reward stupid Ukrainian cabbies for their thieving ways.  I was more than happy to be done with these crooks and to travel to places with either cheap taxis, or at least metered taxis.  Good riddance.

Reached the terminal, boarding was just starting.  The usual chaos…no real queues, people with shocking amounts of luggage (smugglers, natch), and confusion about the process.  Eventually we filtered through Ukrainian immigration and customs.  No problem.  I noticed a few ancient ‘CCCP’ Soviet passports on the officer’s desk – I’d pay good money to have one of those for nostalgia’s sake.  Remember the Soviet Union?  It’s been almost 20 years since it collapsed…and I still can hardly believe it.

The duty-free store at the terminal was laughable.  Tiny shop, crammed with two things:  booze and butts.  There was zero pretext of limiting alcohol carried onto the ship – unlike luxury cruises where they work hard to ensure that you consume their pricey liquor.  In the FSU, alcohol is king and it’s a god-given right to carry your body weight with you wherever you go.

There was a concert at the top of the Potemkim Steps, it was reaching fever pitch as the boat got ready to pull out.  Were the good people of Odesa sending me off in style, or were they celebrating my departure from their land?

My cabin on the MV Caledonia was a shoebox.  Not only was it smaller than the master bathroom at Dad & Ellen’s place in Boston…it was far smaller.  And there were 4 bunk-beds in there.  Yowza.

I hoped I wouldn’t have the full load of cabinmates, but they all showed up.  First, Ibrahim, a 25-year-old Turk who was in the apparel (smuggling) business in Odesa and apparently had just lost US$1,000 at a roulette table.  He had a bottle of Jack Daniels with him and was in the mood to drink.  There went any concerns I had that my cabinmates would be hardcore Muslims who would be praying the entire voyage.

Ibrahim was a real wild child – got right into the whiskey (I had my own bottle of Russian cognac and did the same), all the while telling me he was a ‘hooligan’ and that he preferred smoking reefer because that didn’t give him a headache the next morning.  I half-expected him to pull out a hash-pipe but I guess he hadn’t wanted to risk that.  I wasn’t sure how to feel about Ibrahim – I was happy to have a lively cabinmate and sidekick, but I also wondered how he’d mutate as the evening and voyage went on.  I’d see soon enough…

Ibrahim also told me he had heard that George W. Bush is Jewish.  As context, I had told him I was Canadian..that was my cover for the trip.  But, of course, conversation turned at one point to world events and politics, and I had to spend some time convincing Ibrahim that W. is a Christian fundamentalist and not a Jew.  I think I won him over, but it was a fight I was not expecting.

Our two other cabinmates showed up.  Both older Turkish fellows, I believe they were doing construction work in Ukraine.  Normal enough guys – one had no more than 3 teeth, but wasn’t shy about it.

Our cabin was right near the ‘Disco Bar’ and Ibrahim and I gravitated towards that after draining much of our respective bottles of liquor.  We plopped (fell) down on a couch and I drank a couple beers while we attempted a conversation over the incredibly loud pop music.  Ibrahim was getting sloppy and at one point I feared he’d vomit all over me (or worse, my mobile).  I’ve written on several occasions that my internal sense of doom is usually accurate – stay tuned for more proof.

At one point I was pretty sure I heard the song ‘Shabbat Shalom.’  But I’m really not too sure…

My Soviet cognac was nasty stuff – right up there with Ibrahim’s Jack Daniels.  Both of us were probably in over our heads…then again, as long as it wasn’t vodka, I’d be fine.  I wasn’t too sure about Ibrahim, though.  He might have been a hooligan, but he didn’t make it past midnight.  I think I fell asleep in the disco for a few minutes – I didn’t recall one of my other cabinmates being in the disco, but when I turned my head there he was.  He smiled at me like I was insane.  He and cabinmate #4 weren’t drinkers, but I also wouldn’t really call them well-behaved.  There were a few Ukrainian lasses on board who were heading to Istanbul for ‘some work.’  Cabinmate #4 was hanging all over one of them, and it was a sorry sight.  It occurred to me that there might have been a solid reason for my lack of sea travels in the past few years.

Not sure what time I finally went to sleep.  But the seas were very rough that night, and I awoke to the sound of Ibrahim in the upper bunk across from me, rolling around in agony.  Then he leaned over and dry-heaved…my damage control sensors went into hyperdrive, I reached down to the tiny table and grabbed a plastic bag, thrusting it into Ibrahim’s hands.  A carpetful of vomit in that tiny room would have been sheer hell.  I silently cursed Ibrahim as he continued to do his thing…I figured he was a weak drinker…but then it occurred to me that he might just be sea-sick, with the Jack D merely an accomplice.  I gave him the benefit of the doubt – later on he did claim that it wasn’t the whiskey, it was the waves.

That day was shrouded in mist.  I managed to straggle upstairs for breakfast – not that my stomach was in great shape, either – cognac and waves both played a role.  I sat outside and stared at the horizon to calm my stomach down.  Popped my last promethazine tablet, which is part of the famed ‘Coast Guard Cocktail.’  I forget what’s the other half.  The problem is that once you start feeling sick, it’s too late to take the medicine.  But this seemed to help.  Went back in the cabin – Ibrahim was understandably still out cold, but so were my other cabinmates.  Sleeping looked like a great idea…reading would have been iffy given the seas and my stomach, and I wasn’t comfortable pulling out my laptop and watching a DVD, given the company.  Slept till lunch…ate a bit, then down to the deck for more gazing…and finally back to the room.

Ibrahim was actually getting worse – he had another puking session, at which point I helped him to the doctor’s quarters, where they jabbed him with something that seemed to take effect quickly.  Back in the room, the old goat cabinmate had invited a few of the Ukrainian girls in for a drink (of our booze, natch – he had none of his own).  Jesus, Ukrainians can drink.  Ibrahim and I were too tired to complain, and eventually the girls took off.  I suspect one of them was giving grandpa a hand job under the covers – I have a piece of evidence but it’s not bulletproof.

We then slept all afternoon.  I haven’t slept that much in a 24-hour period in years.  Awoke to calmer seas, and Ibrahim’s settled belly.  Got up and had a beer from the bar…watched the sun go down (should have taken a photo of that – exquisite)…and pondered the remaining stretch of the journey.  A little Ukrainian kid was running around and pretending to shoot me, he was somehow connected to the Ukrainian girls (son of one of them?  Scary thought.)  I was inspired by the orange setting sun, mellow seas, and relaxed feeling, and belted out a bold version of ‘Love Boat,’ which the little kid absolutely loved.  For the rest of the night he was bugging me to sing – I think I did another rendition once or twice.

Went to dinner – last meal on the boat.  Food was altogether forgettable throughout, but that was expected.  A 36-hour voyage for US$190, what do you expect?  At my table was a tall skinny fellow who was rather quiet.  I also wasn’t feeling too social, but we eventually started talking.  Turns out he’s a German mathematics/physics teacher named Hartmut who’s on a 9-month sabbatical, and is traveling through these lands en route to Iran, where he once spent a few months.  Intriguing guy – well-traveled and very thoughtful.  I seemed to recall him dancing around in the disco the previous night, his head bumping into the ceiling.  But don’t quote me on that, I was probably seeing things…

Took it easy that night – just a couple beers at the disco.  One of the Ukrainian girls sat next to me, we tried to have a chat but it wasn’t easy.  Besides language barriers, there may have been cognizance issues…

Seas stayed pretty calm and I think I slept fairly well.  One concern I had was that I’d sleep too long and miss our passage through the famed Bosporus Straits, separating the Black Sea from Istanbul and the Sea of Marmara.  We were supposed to reach Istanbul by 8 a.m., which meant that we’d enter the Bosporus around 6:30 a.m. or so.  Somehow I got up exactly as we came upon the straits, the boat seemed to rock a bit more, probably because of nearby boats.  I got up, dressed, grabbed my camera, and went to the top deck to check out the views.  Which were spectacular – I’d been to Istanbul once, briefly, but hadn’t really seen the straits, nor much else.  Saw Hartmut up on the deck and we resumed our conversation.  As we took photos and hung out, we implicitly decided to hang out together in the city that day.

Got to the docks a little late, but then had to wait a while.  Turks got off first and foreigners had to chill.  Hartmut gave me some of his oranges and apples and I was totally relaxed – in no hurry to shoulder my pack and start walking.  Eventually we were let off the ship, and we went into the terminal to clear customs/immigration.

Funny process – the scanners weren’t in service, so a single guy went through people’s bags.  As for immigration, they had our passports and a fellow would just yell out an approximation of someone’s name, that person would then go up and pay for the visa, collect his/her passport, and go back to fetch bags and clear customs.  Low-tech, but OK.  Hartmut and I were ‘processed’ at the same time, and we were waved right through customs without even a cursory check of our bags.  ‘Midnight Express’ crossed my mind…interestingly enough, the prison in that movie is now the Four Seasons Istanbul, rooms going for US$800/night.

That was the start of a very enjoyable day, one of the most pleasant I’ve had in the past two or so years on the road.  We got some cash, then found a modest little café right near the Galata Bridge, where we sat for an hour, drinking tea and eating kebabs.  Kebabs for breakfast – you heard it here.  Then we walked over the bridge into Old Istanbul, up the hill into the Sultanahmet area, which is the touristy part of town, OK, but you’re a stone’s throw away from the Blue Mosque, Aya Sofya, and Topkapi Palace.  Hartmut needed to find a room, I had one booked.  We parted ways for a couple hours and did our thing, then met again to check out the Blue Mosque and the neighborhood.  He’d been here 5 years before, so knew more than I and showed me around.

The Blue Mosque:

We were both starving, and after seeing the interior of the Blue Mosque we noticed a vendor selling potatos stuffed with all sorts of ingredients.  It’s called ‘kumpir’ and puts the Wendy’s Chili and Cheese version to shame.  The vendor whips the potato and even adds extra potato, then butter and cheese, peas, beets, a bit of meat, sauces, etc.  The thing is a mound of food and is more than a meal.  One of the strangest things I’ve eaten.  Not quite as strange as Kyrgyzstani breizol, but not far behind…

It was raining, but the air temp was cool and comfortable, I suspect the summer would have been hot as hell.  We had a nice long walk, from the Blue Mosque to the Hippodrome park, over to Topkapi gardens, then down the hill to the Golden Horn – we were ready for a beer or two, and were most likely to find one under the Galata Bridge, where there’s a string of cafes and shops, like a Turkish version of Florence’s Ponte Vecchio.  Found a great little place and had some Efes drafts while the sun set.  It was still Ramazan (Ramadan), and it can be a challenge to get a drink here, but there are places and this was one of them.  No big deal.  It’s actually a pretty good time to visit, at sunset people are ready to feast and there’s a huge amount of activity and buzz in the air.  I hear that after Ramazan the discos and bars get very busy again, I’ll be back in mid-October and will check ‘em out then.

Hartmut and I were both pretty beat by this point, and meandered back to Sultanahmet.  We sidetracked to the Spice Bazaar, where we both bought some sweets.  I don’t really have a sweet tooth, but some of the products they have here are irresistible.  I bought a bag of walnuts covered in some sort of amber candy, a bit like honey.  Excellent.  After a few months in ex-Sovietland, the foods of Turkey are simply mind-blowing.

Got a bit lost going home.  Wandered into what seemed some sort of graveyard, which eventually opened into a courtyard where tea and waterpipes (narjileh) were on offer.  We sat down (were escorted to a tourist section, to be accurate), and had some tea and a waterpipe.  Very relaxing – a fine way to spend my first night in Istanbul.

Stopped for a plate of meatballs (kofteh) before getting back to the pension.  I think it will prove difficult here to maintain my girlish figure…Istanbul probably has some of the world’s best street food, right up there with Bangkok.  I still rate Tokyo the best eating city on earth, but that might be challenged.

The guy at the front desk is named Asi, sounds like Ozzie in English.  I asked him if he had heard of Ozzie Osbourne – I believe he had.  I try not to be a stupid tourist but sometimes succumb…

Had noticed a few things during the long day running around Istanbul.  One:  many women wear headscarves here.  I’d heard the practice was growing, but perhaps one in three women (in the Old City, anyway) were wearing them.  Two:  Turks are good at looking a bit stylish while hanging around town.  Many guys wear an old sport coat, for instance.  Three:  Istanbul is very touristy compared to Ukraine or Russia, but I was not unhappy about that – at least you can get your laundry done without hassle, you can get tickets and change money easily, etc.  A bit of infrastructure can be worth the annoyance of nasal American voices all round you…

Next morning, got up early, had breakfast on the pension’s rooftop (commonplace here), and visited the historic Aya Sofia, aka Hagia Sofia, which until 1453 was the largest church in the world.  Then the Ottomans took the city and converted it into a mosque.  If you’re interested in more history than that, there’s lots online to read, but I’ll just say that the interior of the now-museum is absolutely massive in scale and is astonishing in its design and style – even if you’re good and sick of churches, as I’ve become, this place really stands out as one of the top buildings in the world.  And the Ottomans left many Christian frescoes and mosaics in place – right above the imam’s pulpit there’s a mosaic of Jesus and Mary, still intact.  I guess Muslims consider Jesus an early prophet so no harm having his image there…

Next, walked across the street (the sights in Sultanahmet are that close) to the entrance to the Basilica Cistern, an underwater reservoir that was built by the Byzantines, then forgotten for centuries until a Dutch archaeologist found it in the 1500s.  There are still some old Ottoman houses with access to this body of water, and in fact it the Dutch explorer found it again because some people told him they could get fresh water by lowering a bucket from a hole in their basement, and could even catch fish sometimes.

This place is odd and captivating.  There are walkways over the water, and scores of old columns holding up the ceiling.  The water is everywhere – the air feels wet, and water drips from the ceiling.  Watch thy camera, oh tourist.  And fish swim in the waters, which are apparently still clean but who knows.

There’s also the obligatory ‘Cistern Café’ with overpriced food/drink, no one was sitting there when I visited the cistern.

Started to rain again.  I escaped by ducking into Karadeniz café and having a Turkish coffee and a bowl of lentil coup – mercimek, which is a bit like Indian dal bhat but is lighter in color and in flavor.  Rain eventually let up and I went out.  Had noticed that my flimsy daypack was ripped, yet again, and saw a tailor’s sign.  Went upstairs and found the shop – the tailor didn’t speak English but it wasn’t difficult to communicate my problem (the bag, that is).  He sat down and finished up his current job, and indicated that I sit on a chair nearby.

I read my guidebook for a couple minutes, then another customer came in and spoke with the tailor.  This guy then went behind the door, removed his pants, and handed them to the tailor.  I was a bit foggy from the rain and from all the morning’s sight-seeing, so I didn’t think much about this, just continued to peruse my guidebook.  At one point I looked up and saw the guy still standing behind the door, pant-less.  At that point I put the pieces together and started to laugh.  So did the guy, sheepishly.  The tailor soon joined in.  The customer spoke a bit of English and told me he ripped the seat of the pants jumping over a big rain puddle.  I laughed even louder, so did the other two.  We must have gone on for 5 minutes, until the tailor somehow finished repairing the guy’s pants and he paid and left.  Then the tailor finished my crappy little pack – he pretty much remade it, cut off the failing material and restitched it so that it should hold up for a while longer.  He’s a real tailor and did a nice job – my earlier rescue efforts were in the hands of FSU dezhurnas (floor ladies) who were willing, but not that able, it seems.

Funny episode.  I think there will be lots more to come here, the Turks seem pretty light-hearted and the place in general seems ripe for laughs.

The rains come and go here, and then there’s bright sunshine.  Reminds me of storms in Johannesburg, the sky would suddenly go dark, there’d be hellacious lightning and thunder, then pouring rains, and a few minutes later bright sun again.  Weird.

I continued to traipse by street-food vendors and storefronts and drool uncontrollably.  This sort of food really does it for me – must be genetic.  I’ve written before about conditions under which I’m likely to visit McDonald’s, i.e. countries with mediocre local food (Philippines), and countries with ridiculously overpriced local food (UK, Russia).  I think Turkey may be the country where I’m least likely to visit a McD’s – the local food is terrific, it’s fast, and it’s pretty cheap.  Even in Japan I’d hit a McD’s once in a while, just to sink my teeth into something solid…here, that’s just not an issue.

Had lunch (my third meal of that day) in a koftesisi (meatball place).  Sat at a table next to a Caucasian couple – we chatted a bit, they’re from New York and were on a Holland America cruise ship.  They had a local woman showing them around, and I copied their food and drink choices – a plate of meatballs, a dish of bean salad, and a yogurt drink.  All excellent.  The fellow was fun to talk to – we commiserated about the financial crisis, and he told me that he was on the phone with a friend, who noticed that Lehman had just declared bankruptcy and whose stock was at US$0.18 a share.  While they were talking it jumped a penny, and this fellow said that even in the worst of times, you can make 6% (do the math).  So perhaps it’s time to buy, or will be soon.  Of course, it all depends on what happens with the U.S. bailout package – I hope the government takes equity from the banks and shareholders first, before writing any checks.  They did that in Sweden in the 90s and while that was a smaller-scale situation, it was analogous and it worked well.  We should not let urgency overtake intelligence in this race…

I walked off my lunch in the Grand Bazaar, a collection of some 4,000 stores under roofs and open air.  Certainly a huge tourist trap, although there are good deals to be had and locals participate as well.  I just bought a Pantene shampoo – what else do I really need?  Sometimes I think I miss the point of these places, but I just like walking around and looking at a few things, I don’t generally feel any need to buy and thus be bathed in retail therapy.

When I entered the Bazaar I took a quick photo.  A vendor came over and said, ‘one photo, one carpet.’  I said that I had no home and no place to put it – I was just a traveler.  He said ‘how can you fly without a carpet?’  Clever – I’ll bet these guys have a book of quips memorized.  I told him I’d come and buy a carpet when I bought a place to live.  Powerless by now, he smiled and agreed.  I walked on.

Bought and read the International Herald Tribune, my first newspaper in four months.  All bad news,except for the Red Sox’s decent play and impending playoff bid.  They’re unlikely to win the division, but they’re alive and kicking, and are probably as good as anyone in the American League.  Let’s see.  Playoffs start next week.

Checked out my emails – the Pension has wireless, hallelujah.  Accoms standards here in Istanbul seem quite good – value isn’t superb, but they know what foreigners want and provide it, for a cost.  More than you can say for Ukraine…

Am experiencing an odd software problem – sometimes Skype doesn’t open when I boot up, and even when I double-click on the icon.  I usually get it to start by opening the Control Panel – perhaps Skype thinks I’m about to uninstall it (and sometimes I have that in mind), then it opens.  Any ideas?  The same is often true of iTunes, if Skype isn’t open then iTunes won’t open either.  Something is holding them back – is my CPU too busy?  Something else?  Help, dear readers.

Was feeling the effects of the incredible food here, so went for a long run along the Golden Horn.  There’s a good sidewalk/promenade that goes on for a long ways – flat, but because of the rains there were massive puddles I had to get around.  Still, a good run, I was sweaty and exhausted when I got back to the pension.  Asi laughed when he saw me.

Of course, I only ran because I want to overeat, so I showered and walked up Divan Yolu Caddesi to a little sandwich shop that specializes in fish.  I got a calamari sandwich for a few lira, it was terrific and reminded me of cheap calamares sandwiches I’ve had at Café Ideal right off Madrid’s Plaza Major.  Then I went back to the Karadeniz café, and had an Iskander kebab.  I was now seriously full, but while walking near the Blue Mosque I came across loads of people feasting in Ramadan fashion, and I got a small plate of baklava to cap things off.  Delicious, and super-rich.

You’d think I could hold no more in my stomach, but I managed to waddle down to North Shield Pub, and had a couple beers.  I was trapped there for some time by major-league rains that came out of nowhere, and I was lacking an umbrella.  Didn’t mind too much getting stuck at a bar…

Saw a photo in the IHT of the Islamabad Marriott, which was bombed the other day.  The place was gutted – looks like a construction site and not a luxury hotel that was damaged.  Apparently the President and his team were supposed to have dinner there, but there was a change of plans and they barely missed getting torched.  Coincidence?  Pakistan is a scary place these days, even new friend Hartmut is giving it a miss after he leaves Iran and heads to India…

Next morning, had breakfast on the terrace again, was joined by an older French-Aussie woman who had just arrived.  I told her what I had enjoyed thus far (I skipped the previous night’s food porn), then went downstairs, where I was supposed to meet Hartmut for a coffee.  He didn’t show after a half-hour, so I took off and continued my sight-seeing.  Visited the Suleiyman Mosque, named after Suleiyman the Magnificent, who’s buried there and who was probably the greatest of the Ottomon sultans.  Nice place, but I was more impressed with the view from the Golden Horn that I was with the up-front experience.

Walked down to the water, and found a restaurant I’d read about called Hamdi Et Lokanasi, famed for mezes and kebabs.  It’s on the 3^rd floor – went up and the views across the Horn were brilliant.  I stood there and took photos till a waiter came and seated me, on the balcony next to a Western couple.  Turned out they live in Key West, and were another cool American couple.  They were expressly not on a cruise ship, they’re independent travelers, and have really been around.   Ellen has been to backwaters like Burma and Laos, and Courtney has seen his share of countries as well.  We sat there eating and talking for well over an hour – they told me what they liked in and around Istanbul, I gave them pointers on Vietnam.

They were staying in Sultanahmet as well, right across the street from my pension.  I felt lucky to have randomly met them, they were great travel discussions partners.  Made me feel a bit better about being a gringo to meet dynamite folks like them.  Am I starting to sound at all like Michelle Obama?  Anyway, it goes without saying that we seemed to be politically aligned, and economically as well – Courtney and I bitched about our Goldman shares – but I think we’re both cautiously optimistic that they’ll climb one of these days…

Ellen and Courtney were both done or nearly finished with books they’re reading about Jordan, which they’re visiting next, and told me they’d drop off the books at my pension.  Very nice of them – English books in Turkey are outrageously expensive.  And sure enough, when I got back to the pension that evening, Ellen had left her book for me, it’s by Queen Noor and is about her adjustment to life in Jordan and that country’s nature and development.  I plan to eventually visit Jordan and this book should give me some much-needed background.  They got my blogsite from me and I think they may check in and read this post at some point – I hope they do.

Views from the resto:

I also had a note from Hartmut, he’d overslept that morning and apologized profusely.  He proposed meeting next morning for breakfast, but that wouldn’t work for me, so I emailed him proposing a drink that night, hoping he’d check email.

During the day I also visited Rustem Pasha Mosque, noteworthy mostly because they give out free Korans to visitors.  I might try to read mine, but expect to fail miserably.  I tried to read the Old Testament years ago and didn’t get far.

Got a haircut at the barber down the street.  He did a good job, there were only two things to note.  One, he had dragon-breath and at times I nearly passed out as he hovered over me.  Two, he was a bit too thorough – he cut my nose hairs (which weren’t that bad, really), and pulled out a lighter and proceeded to burn my ear hairs.  I’m serious – I’ve seen people lightly burn off threads on shirts, but never ear hairs.  A Turkish customer in the next chair was laughing, probably provoked by my nervous laughter, and then the barber joined in, much like the episode in the tailor’s shop the day before.  What is it about being in Turkish shops that’s so damn funny??

Went for another run along the Horn.  Came back, showered, went out for something to eat, and ran into Hartmut down the street.  He’d read my email and was coming to look for me.  Good timing.  We looked for, and soon found, a rooftop bar to grab a beer.  We lucked out with Southern Cross, the rooftop was very much like the rooftop bars in Hampi, India – lots of mattresses, pillows and blankets.  We had a couple large Efes drafts apiece and talked for two hours – about all sorts of topics.  Hartmut’s a teacher, and we talked about the teacher-student relationship – staying in touch after moving on, sexual tensions, etc.  I told him about teachers and professors who influenced me.  Miss Gibson, my first grade teacher, for whom I painted a picture of a frog on a lilypad that she hung on her wall and maybe still has hanging there.  Mister James, a high school English teacher who said one day in class that while the act of intercourse has become commoditized and debased, the simple act of kissing has remained pure and exciting.  And Professor Cid Scallett from business school, of whom I wrote fairly extensively last April, after my 15^th business school reunion – Cid was a deeply influential figure in my life, and although we didn’t communicate for 15 years, we recently re-connected and I hope we become close again as years go by.

We went out for a late-night feed after the beers, and we out till 1 a.m. or so.  Then we said goodbye – Hartmut was likely to get his Iranian visa the next day, then head east towards that country.  Our paths wouldn’t converge anytime soon, but we’ll keep in touch and perhaps meet again this winter/next spring in India or SE Asia.  I had a blast sitting around chatting with him – I really can’t say that about too many people.  Hartmut, godspeed.

BTW, there’s a real German angle here.  Hartmut got his Turkish visa for free (mine cost US$20), and many Turks speak German.  Germany for decades has had a guest worker program aimed at Turks, and millions of Turks live or have lived in Germany, creating an interesting link between the two nations.  It’s not always a perfect bond, but it’s unique.

It’s now Thursday morning, I’m racing to blast out this entry before checking out of the Side Pension.  There was just a knock on the door – I cursed for a second, thinking that management was jumping the gun on getting me to check out.  But it wasn’t management, it was Courtney, whom I’d met at the Hamdi restaurant the day before – he was done with his “Live from Jordan” book and was giving it to me.  Cool.  This book was written by an American student of Arabic, who spent a stretch in Amman and then Cairo, and wrote about his experiences there.  I’ve now got this book and the one by Queen Noor, as well as the Hungarian ‘Book of Fathers’ that Bert gave me in Budapest.  Those will keep me busy during some long bus and train rides here.  I’d better devote some time to reading one of these days, or I’ll have to lug all these books around for weeks.  Not the worst problem to have.

Alright, now management should be barging in on me, so I’ll wrap this up.  Going to meet a classmate from b-school later today, that should be good fun.  Over and out.

Weird week.  First, the global financial system got bent very badly and almost snapped.  I had to intervene and pump huge amounts of capital into the system to maintain liquidity.  As you might expect, I had some tough choices to make – save Lehman or save AIG?  I decided against saving Lehman because I used to date a Lehman banker’s daughter and she was a real bitch.  So actually it wasn’t that difficult a choice.

Second, for some bizarre reason, John McCain surged ahead of Barack Obama in the U.S. polls.  But just wait until my under-the-radar voter registration drive starts to pay dividends.  Gallup doesn’t have the telephone numbers of young African-Americans, it seems.

Third, the pro-Western governing coalition here in Ukraine collapsed, with new elections probably forthcoming.  Looks like the Ukrainians really can’t decide which horse to ride, the West or Russia.  Given what’s been going on in the former, can you blame them?  But for now I’ll sit back and let things play out.

As Woody Allen might say, that was indeed a week, or a life – just not mine.  But it made for some rough moments and urgent phone calls, as I’ll describe a bit later in this update.

I should have known this wouldn’t be a smooth week.  In the Odesa train station buying a ticket to Crimea, I stopped for a coffee and drank it at a stand-up table near the counter.  A fellow joined me – no big deal.  He tried to strike up a conversation, but it wasn’t working too well.  I was amused to see him pour a shot of vodka and drain it – this was about 10 a.m.  Welcome to the FSU.  Finally I understood what he wanted – money.  He asked me if I was a ‘biznesman,’ and I said, honestly, no, just a tourist.  That managed to get him off my back.  I haven’t been in the giving mood lately, the markets have been awful and I’m just not in the mood to hand over my dosh.  Hard-hearted, I am.

Have been reading my Turkey guidebook, as I’ll be heading there in a few days.  I’m looking forward to checking out Turkey, it’s about time I left the FSU behind and experienced a different culture.  I will probably miss the dominant expression of FSU life, though – walking down the street with a beer in hand.  If you could do that in the States, it would be a far better place.

But for the time being, I’m still in Ukaine, still doing my best to navigate the shoals of indie travel here.  I have a feeling the Turks are better organized for tourism…although in a sense it’s been refreshing to be in Ukraine and come across very few fellow tourists – I do feel like something of a trailblazer here.  The day before I left Odesa, I tried to book a hotel in Simferopol, the capital of Crimea and my first, brief stop in the peninsula.  That was utter torture – the first place I reached was ridiculously overpriced, then I couldn’t connect with my other options.  There are only 4 hotels, as far as I know, in the entire city of Simferopol, a provincial capital with 350,000 souls.  After dialing several times I realized that the phone #s had changed, even though my guidebook is new.  Huh.  Treo to the rescue – I got onto the web and found different tel #s, dialed the one for Hotel Moskva and got through.  More surprisingly, the receptionist spoke some English and I was able to make a booking.  Cool.  Being able to access the web with your mobile is hugely valuable – and is now a bit cheaper, as one of those usually-intrusive Palm.com emails was unusually helpful and showed me how to turn off images and use less bandwidth.  Bravo, Palm.  Now it’s time to grow some balls and come up with a truly revolutionary replacement for the Treo, the last half-dozen models have all been tweaks on the original platform.  Isn’t it painfully obvious that Apple etc. are eating Palm’s lunch?

As soon as I finished making my Hotel Moskva booking, a woman came over and asked me if I was American.  I guess she overheard my call – I do have a loud voice.  Turns out she’s from Odesa but now lives in Florida.  She couldn’t believe that I’m traveling around Ukraine solo, without speaking the language.  I can’t believe it at times either.  Conversation quickly turned to politics – I asked her to make sure that everyone she knows votes for Obama – Florida is a battleground state and we all know what dodgy stuff went on there in the 2000 election.  Her political views were similar to mine – we commiserated at length about how awful the past 8 years have been.  We chatted about Ukraine and its odd aspects as well.  Very nice lady.  As we were getting ready to part, she said something that really bummed me out – she said that the “Russians and pro-Russian Ukrainians are laughing at the U.S.,” as a result of the Iraq War, the credit crunch, the busted budget, etc. etc.  Huh – imagine that.  Here’s a country that was bankrupt 10 years ago, hanging by a thread, disgraced and discredited – and now they’re laughing at us.  The U.S. in 1998 vs. the U.S. in 2008 – what a diff 10 years makes.  If for no other reason than that we’re now laughingstocks to former Communist nations, we need to get the Republicans out of the White House.  How can I get that into an Obama commercial pronto?  Someone out there, please do something with this info…

Spent my last few hours in Odesa taking it easy.  Sat in the park reading my Turkey guidebook.  Had a couple beers at popular hangout Mick O’Neills.  Walked by an SUV cranking out ‘Staying Alive.’  Had an enormous shwarma from a street kiosk.  Was now ready to depart Odesa and take the overnight train to Simferopol.

Went to the Richelieu Hotel to get my pack.  Gave my Foer book, just finished, to the quiet guy manning the reception desk.  I hadn’t been too keen on the staff at Richelieu, they seemed bothered by any request and preferred to sit and surf the web for hours.  But I did strike up a short conversation with this guy, on my way out – turns out he’s a French teacher and doesn’t speak much English.  We thus spoke in French, which I can do pretty well.  He teaches French, but wants to learn English as it’s much more useful.  Oh, the French wouldn’t like hearing that.  He seemed pleased to accept the Foer book and it might help him improve his English.  I felt pretty good as I left the hotel – I had done a decent deed and been friendly.  You’ve gotta spread good karma…

Walked to the train station – it took a half hour, but it was cool out and I wasn’t shvitzing, even with the big pack on my back.  Taxis in the FSU are a rip-off and I prefer to vote with my feet.  Got to the station, found my platform, and surfed the web a bit.  Found out that James Posey left the Celtics and signed with the Hornets.  Bummer – he was a valuable player for us last year.  Now the other subs, like Leon Powe, need to step it up.

Got on the train.  The train lady was friendly, and seemed to get a kick out of me and my foreigness.  Ukrainian train ladies, and hotel chambermaids (dezhurnas) are much friendlier than their Russian counterparts and can be quite maternal at times.  She brought me a tea and made sure I didn’t do anything stupid during the journey.

I was in a 2-person cabin, my cabinmate was an older gent who spoke almost no English but was incredibly good-humored and friendly.  We managed to share our views on NATO, the war in Georgia, and Ukrainian politics.  He hates the ‘big 3’ Ukrainian politicians, including Viktor Yuschenko, the current Pres. and darling of the 2004 Orange Revolution.  You hear a lot of that here – the aftermath of the Orange Revolution has been very messy, and people seem fed up with their politicians.  Then again, they’re not unique in that regard.  But the government here, as I wrote earlier, just splintered and it’s unclear what will happen.

Eventually we went to sleep, and I probably slept for a good 7-8 hours.  The entire ride was about 12, and we had talked for a couple hours when the train left Odesa, so the timing was great.  Woke up as the train was stopping in a random station in Crimea, and I got some food on the platform, assisted by the train lady.  Ukrainian vendors are always on platforms selling produce and other food – I wish the Russian stations were as well-supplied.  My ride on the Trans-Siberian would have been much better if there were some good local food to eat.

Got to Simferopol, took a taxi to Hotel Moskva.  The review of this place hadn’t sounded good, supposedly it was a Soviet-style monstrosity.  When I got there it didn’t look that bad, although huge renovations were taking place on the exterior.  At reception I provided my details – a couple fetching lasses who spoke a bit of English gave me my key.  Went to my room – and it hadn’t been cleaned, looked like it had just been vacated.  Ugh.  Went back down to reception, told them, and got a new room.  This room was fine.  I think that’s happened to me before, just once, but I can’t recall where and when.  Sort of funny.

After showering, I walked over to the bus station to buy a ticket to Sevastopol.  That was easy enough – the ticket agent giggled when I spoke in Russian. “Adin bilyet (one ticket)” – “zaftra (tomorrow)” – “Sevastopol” – “utra (morning) – “adinatsat (eleven a.m.)”.  I can’t help but sound like a 5-year-old child, or Rain Man…but I got the info across and got my ticket.

It was raining, but I wanted to stretch my legs and check out the city, I only had this one day/night there before going to Sevastopol.  Caught a bus, wasn’t that clear where I had to get off, but I just decided to get off after a while and turned out I wasn’t far from the main circle, Sovetskaya Square.  When I reached the square it started to pour, so I ducked into a little cabana that was part of an outdoors restobar.  I lent my umbrella to one of the waitresses and she was very nice to me as a result.  Had a small pizza and some fries, and a couple beers, and by that point the rain had mellowed.  Went back to the hotel on foot – it was about a 30-minute walk, quite nice actually, alongside a canal.  The only problem is that they don’t bother trimming tree branches above the sidewalk, so in stretches you have to walk on the street or you’ll get scratched to hell by the branches.

Got an email from Amazon.com, a Latino author just published a new book and because I bought Alvaro Mutis’s “Maqroll” book they tagged me as potentially interested in this new book.  I wasn’t interested, but the email reminded me that I need to dig up and re-read the Mutis book, which still rates as the best book I’ve ever read.  I know where the book is in Boston and vow and grab it next time I’m there.

Took a long nap.  Then walked back into town, it was Friday night and I wanted to see how Simferopol people got down.  En route an older woman stopped me and asked me something which I couldn’t understand.  We weren’t really able to communicate, except for our names – she’s Lydia – and that she has some children who live in Panama City, which I believe is in Florida (and Panama, of course).  She seemed to be a fan of the U.S.  Now I’ve found one here in Ukraine…

Simferopol has a few decent nightspots but it’s not that exciting.  Was happy I only planned one night there.  Had a beer at an outdoor bar that was part of Falstaff resto.  Falstaff is a downstairs spot and the upstairs entrance is shaped like a sinking ship.  Hmmm.  The bar had a big bottle of absinthe on the shelf – reminded me of Bert having a glass of the stuff in Budapest.  Mostly walked around after that, ducked into a few places but they weren’t that compelling.  Lots of sheesha (water-pipes), lots of cheesy casinos.  I am getting tired of FSU nightlife, it’s either sheeshas (with flavored tobacco – how passé), sofas and casinos, or walking around/squatting in a park drinking beer.  They really could use a few more ‘normal’ pubs in these countries – there’s no lack of drinkers, and it might be a good business to get into.  I’ll have to think more about that, along with a karaoke bar concept that Bert and I were noodling on during our extreme bathing tour of Budapest.

Went back to my room around midnight.  Decided to see if my UkrTelecom card still had any time remaining – booted up my laptop, and I was able to get on the web.  This card might have some sort of ‘positive bug’ – it only cost 12 gryvnia (about US$3), but I swear I’ve used it for 10+ hours and probably much more than that.  Not sure how long it’s supposed to last, but when I bought a 60 gryvnia card in Kyiv they told me it would last 10 hours.  Not only that, but this network is blazingly fast and you can do all your downloads in minutes.  I downloaded iTunes 8, which has this new ‘genius’ function which mines your music library and suggests 1) new music you can pick up on iTunes, and 2) playlists you can create with your current tracks.  Pretty neat – I haven’t used it much yet, but it shows some promise.  I imagine it’s fraught with the same issues that Amazon.com’s algorithm has – it doesn’t cover all your music/purchases, it doesn’t have a feedback loop (i.e., you might buy something, and then hate it, and Amazon.com/Apple wouldn’t know), and the mere act of suggesting something can introduce some bias.  But hey, I’m sounding like a consultant here.

Also updated a bunch of other third-party software programs.  That kept me up till nearly 4 a.m.  Felt like hell when I got up for breakfast around 9.  Had a couple hours before checkout and my train, so did some more web surfing.  Got an email from friend Dri, we (along with her sister) were planning to meet in Damascus in mid-October but her sis can’t get a visa and it was far from certain that I’d be able to get one in Turkey.  So she’s bagging Syria, but now it looks like we’ll just meet in Turkey.  That should be a lot of fun, I went to Tufts with Dri and her sister Lisa, and don’t see nearly enough of them.

Also spent a half-hour analyzing my scuba dives, using the Suunto Dive Manager program.  No epiphanies there, but I’ll keep looking.  It’s cool to have a visual profile of your entire dive right on the screen – depths, temperatures, times, etc.  All the stuff my dive computer captures shows up here.  Good stuff.

Went to the bus station.  While standing around, saw an exotic woman come in – I guessed she was a Tatar, Crimea has a couple hundred thousand Tatars and this is a longtime home for them.  During WW2 Stalin deported a quarter million Tatars to Uzbekistan and thereabouts, he apparently thought they were potential Nazi collaborators, which very likely was a fantasy.  Still, they were displaced for decades and only in the ‘90s did they start to return en masse to Crimea.  They’re having a tough time of it, but continue to plug away and try to reclaim their property and heritage here.

Got on my bus to Sevastopol, a city that was closed until 1996.  Sevastopol was the key battleground of the Crimean War, and today is famous for housing Russia’s Black Sea Fleet.  I had wanted to check out this famous naval city for a long time, now was my chance.

Sevastopol hotels are very poor value, so I had arranged an apartment through an agent called Travel2Sevastopol.  Natasha, the rep, met me at the apartment and showed me around.  Ancient gas-powered water heater, but otherwise the place was nice enough and the bed was large and comfortable.  Felt like asking Natasha if she wanted to give it a try, but I held my tongue.  Unpacked my stuff, then went for a walk around town.

Most of the city was destroyed by the Nazis – there was a lengthy siege, as there was during the Crimean War.  Sevastopol has known its share of tragedy.  The modern city is quite nice, lots of white buildings and views from hills.  I bought a beer and walked around some more.  At one point I passed a drunk who eyed my beer eagerly – I almost gave it to him, but didn’t think that would be in his best interest (or mine).  Hard-hearted, I am.

Caught up on U.S. sports on the web.  The Red Sox are fighting hard for first place in the division – they’ll at least get the wild card, but winning the division is much preferred and I think they’ve got a good shot.  I still can’t believe Tampa Bay is in first – well, at least it’s not the Yankees, who are basically out of the playoffs for the first time in something like 15 years.  What a stretch run – but Boston has had the better of it in the past few years.  Sweet revenge, baby.

Noticed that there’s a major league pitcher named J.J. Putz.  I love it.

That evening, found a decent, semi-normal bar called Madam Shoko, with live music and draft beer.  As I sat at the bar, I couldn’t help but laugh at some memories of the Foer book, which included an undersexed seeing-eye dog named Sammy Davis Junior, Junior.  As I giggled a few people looked my way – they were either disgusted or wanting to get in on the joke.

I also couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck’s going on in the world.  It feels like 1979 all over again – a crappy U.S. President, high oil prices (at least they’re dropping), a weak U.S. economy and diminishing global position.  It was Saturday night, and word had it that Lehman Brothers was having emergency weekend discussions to find a buyer – or it might go bust on Monday.  Who’s going to fix this?  There are no assurances that the strong America of 1980-2000 is coming back – it certainly can, but we need some fresh leadership, peeps.

The weather in Sevastopol was terrific – like New England autumn weather, probably about 2 weeks behind, i.e. a bit warmer than Boston.  I hear that it gets hot as hell down here – when Churchill came to Yalta (my next stop, stay tuned) in February 1945, he famously called the place ‘the Riviera of Hades.’  I wouldn’t think it would be that warm in Feb., but apparently they do have some harvests in November and December…

Next day, checked out various Crimean War sites.  I’m not that much of a Crimean War aficionada, but when in Sevastopol…plus, there are a number of WW2 memorials in town.

Looked out on the harbor and saw a cargo ship that for some reason was attracting about a trillion seagulls.  Must have been carrying fish guts or something about as aromatic…

Walked by a café that was belting out a Scorpions song at 10 a.m.  Charming.

At the WW2 eternal flame memorial, there were the usual honor guards.  But in this case there were 2 sets of boys and girls, and I mean boys and girls – they couldn’t have been more than 15 years old.  Usually they have stern-looking adults in these booths…in Sevastopol they have grinning children.  Pretty funny – these somber places could use this sort of levity.  Of course, the lads were holding guns – the girls were not.

All in all, Sevastopol is a pleasant place – hard to believe that 12 years ago foreigners couldn’t visit.  A few shots:

Went back to the apartment to relax.  Turned on the news – a Boeing crashed in Perm, Russia, killing nearly 90.  Apparently it came down almost on top of the Trans-Sib Railway.  Weird.  One thing’s for sure – we shouldn’t bother manufacturing bad news, there’s more than enough that occurs naturally.  So behave yourself and smile, people.

Later on, did some more sight-seeing.  There’s a ‘Panorama’ in a park near the city center that shows memorabilia from the Crimean War, and has an enormous 360 degree panorama of battle scenes.  Pretty impressive, and they’re obviously quite proud of the thing.  Here’s a look:

Outside, saw lots of naval cadets getting on buses.  Wasn’t sure if they were Russian or Ukrainian, given that both countries dock ships here.  It certainly added to the muddled pic I have about southern Ukraine…the place seems more Russia than Ukraine, and I think the locals would be happy to hear me say that.   Does that presage mayhem in 2017, when Russia’s Black Sea Fleet has its lease here run out?  I forecast choppy waters, and perhaps well before 2017…

I had read that you can see the Black Sea Fleet from the hills in the park, but the trees were in the way.  I came across a small amusement park with a merry-go-round, and recalled my Nukus views from the top of a merry-go-round in that city.  Bought a ticket and took the ride.  That worked – I got some clear views of the fleet, which was not all that impressive, not that I’m a naval guru.  The most interesting bit was that there were several empty berths – were these ships out and cruising Georgian waterways?  I wondered…

Walking back to the apartment, I stopped to pick up some toiletries.  A double-pack of high-quality toilet paper – 57 gryvnia, about US$12.  I laughed at the clerk – and instead took a couple rolls of the cheapo Soviet-style grainy stuff, which was about a tenth of the price.  I wonder who would shell out $12 for two rolls of toilet paper…

My back, and other body parts, have been sore lately.  Not sure why – bad beds?  Lugging around the pack?  Crappy posture?  Decided to take a break from running (a potential culprit?) and focus on yoga for a while.  Had a couple good practices and felt better afterward…but the back is so unpredictable that it could continue bothering me, and possibly get pretty bad again.  If it does, that might be a good excuse to go back to the Philippines and see my chiropractor friend Dr. Pardis, who has been an absolute miracle worker for me over the past couple years.

Walked by a small supermarket near my apartment (“my apartment” – I’m getting possessive), and wound up buying some bread, meat, and other items, and essentially made my meals for a couple days.  I guess I felt like being quasi-domestic for the first time in a long while – not that I was cooking, mind you, but at least in the apartment I had a fridge, a cutting board, and utensils, so I could pretend to be a normal person for a few days.

Returned to Madam Shoko bar again that night, Sunday night.  The waitresses there are sensational and wear some provocative outfits – obviously intelligent ownership at Madam Shoko.  Read a bit more on the web about the Lehman mayhem.  How depressing.  America no longer makes the top autos, or stereos, or clothes, or [fill in the blank].  But we always could say we had the biggest and best banks and had an overall superior service sector.  What does it say when our supposedly brilliant investment banks buy/hold countless quantities of mortgage-back assets, can’t value them correctly, and go down the tubes as a result?  Not only that, but we’re bringing down the rest of the world with us.  Not exactly a great advertisement for joining the Western world.  I understand that companies come and go and that a degree of ‘creative destruction’ is natural and fine, but the current mess seems well beyond that and it’s disgraceful in my opinion.  The so-called geniuses have been left wanting, for one – what was the CEO of Lehman doing over the past several months, after Bear, Stearns collapsed?  Shouldn’t he have created a war room and figured out how to stave off this sort of thing at his firm?  The CEO, Richard Fuld, was by all accounts a well-liked and respected guy on Wall Street, and had spent his entire career at Lehman – which was perhaps the problem, maybe he couldn’t admit what was happening.  I don’t know.  I’m sure it’s difficult managing a business like his, even in good times, and want to empathize as much as possible, but I can’t help but feel that stupidity/arrogance/hubris played a large part in the collapse of Lehman and it hurts all of us.

So the ‘geniuses’ are anything but that.  The other major issue, in my opinion, is that the wider public is incredibly naïve and ill-informed about basic financial knowledge.  Sure, there were predatory lending practices which deceived people…but any reasonably well-educated and intelligent borrower would know when to say no, and it seems there weren’t too many Americans who said no over the past few years.  This house of cards was exacerbated by the rampant consumerism and ‘status anxiety’ you find in the States – people just can’t seem to live in a modest home or apartment, they need a big one.  They need a couple large cars/SUVs, even if they don’t haul stuff or have kids.  We can place some band-aids on top of the current housing mess and eventually right the ship (I hope we can, at least), but dealing with the lack of savings and retail therapy mentality is even more important and likely more intractable.

Thankfully there are still some innovators in America.  Now that American banks are coming up snake-eyes, the list of top American companies is pretty short.  Apple, Google, and a few others are about all we can really be proud of these days.

Tried to take my mind off these sorts of depressing thoughts.  Installed a third-party app called HoliDates on my Treo – it has the dates of all holidays until 2015, and places them right on your calendar.  I’d been meaning to do this manually, but this program saved me a lot of time and was cheap.  I suppose I too suffer from consumerism and retail therapy needs, but I can satisfy my yearnings for $9.95…

Next morning, watched the televised signing of the Zimbabwe power-sharing agreement.  Mugabe looked particularly uncomfortable sitting there.  I can’t see this bifurcated government going smoothly, these two guys despise each other.  I’ve got a bad feeling about this.  Of course, the U.S. played no role in forging this agreement, we were too busy in Iraq so we just left it to the Brits.  And in Latin America we’re being kicked out of several countries – we haven’t bothered keeping on eye on our own backyard lately.

That afternoon, took a minibus out to the hill of Sapun Gor, overlooking the ‘Valley of Death.’  This is where the Charge of the Light Brigade took place in 1854.  Today it’s a vineyard, overlooked by Sapun Gor, where there’s a WW2 diorama and some old machine guns and artillery.  Historic place – but not that easy to envision the infamous charge given the peaceful nature of the site today.

Exchanged emails with friend Alan, in San Francisco.  I was getting concerned about McCain’s strong poll numbers since the GOP Convention.  Al had some comforting words – he doesn’t think there’s a huge amount of real support for McCain (he’s only seen one McCain sign in a yard), and thinks that Obama’s cash advantage, voter registration efforts, and overall ground game might be enough to put him over the top.  I hope so – I heard that the Obama campaign has gotten lots of mobile phone #s by offering free bumper stickers, and they’d better be preparing to text/call new voters on November 4^th (and before) and get them to the polling booths.  Still, a good ground game can be trumped by people’s hearts and minds, and Obama needs to make his case more plainly.  I continue to think it’s ridiculous that blue-collar/middle-class voters look to the GOP, when that party has historically ignored them, at least economically.  Obama needs to speak to these people and tell them that it’s wrong that they can’t take their sick child to the doctor down the street when he’s sick…and that it’s wrong that the richest Americans have gotten the biggest tax breaks in the past 8 years…and that it’s wrong that American kids perform so poorly relative to kids from other developed countries.  As well as the standard patter about the Iraq War, the budget, etc.

Had dinner that night at Traktir, which means ‘pub’ in Russian.  Nice little outdoors place where the waitrons wear naval outfits.  Great food – mushrooms in a light cream sauce, and chicken cutlets in sour cream.  Better than they sound, believe me.  People in this part of the world love their mushrooms, beets, and sour cream, and the mixing of different ingredients and flavors like these make some dishes very tasty.

Took it easy that night – was bummed about the stock market woes and my own portfolio, which predictably has taken a beating.  Dreamed that night about having a tick on my forehead, and when someone removed it for me, a large dent remained.  A harbinger of the week to come?  Probably, because on Monday morning I learned that Lehman didn’t find a buyer, and filed for Chapter 11.  I also read that the Ukrainian government splintered, and that Obama’s poll numbers were still not great.  Oh well, at least we haven’t had a terrorist attack lately.  Now that would really fuck things up – don’t think that the bad guys don’t know that.  The authorities had better be very attentive over the next couple months or so – right before the U.S. elections will be a highly sensitive time.  At least expect a new bin Laden video.  But hey, don’t worry – George W. Bush will protect us!

Read that Richard Wright, a founding member of Pink Floyd, died.  Then I got in a cab to the bus station, to travel to Yalta, and my cabbie was playing Dark Side of the Moon at full blast.  I told him I approved and he smiled.  Then, on the bus to Yalta, a guy in front of me was wearing a 2008 Roger Waters Dark Side of the Moon Tour t-shirt.  Clearly the stars were aligning, I’d have to play non-stop Pink Floyd at my hotel in Yalta, and try to divine insights for the upcoming elections…

I visited Sevastopol for its naval flavor and its Crimean War history.  I wanted to see Yalta for its beaches, promenades, and above all the Livadia Palance, where FDR, Churchill and Stalin met in February 1945 to sign their historic agreement carving up postwar Europe.  You all (presumably) know the story so I won’t elaborate here.

Checked into Hotel Krim, a real hangover from the Soviet days.  The room was OK, and even had aircon, which is probably critical in summertime.  The receptionist (who I believe also took my booking over the phone the day before) took a liking to me and seemed to enjoy calling me ‘Michael’ in a Russian sort of way.  I unpacked my stuff and headed to the UkrTelecom office to call my financial advisor/broker Yuhin, in Hong Kong.  That morning he had sent me an urgent email asking me to call him, and I had already tried, but the connection was terrible.  This time, I’d try Skype.  My ‘magic wireless card’ still, amazingly, was valid, so used that and called Yuhin.  We had a good chat – he wanted me to move heavily into cash, at least 30% and as much as 70%.  The latter figure sounded way too dramatic a shift for me, and told him that, and he said he’d put together some recommendations and email them to me.  He sounded pretty concerned, although I think he had already calmed down – his email that morning was very gloomy and mentioned ‘systemic collapse’ and things like that.  The markets had indeed reacted very badly to the Lehman collapse and the fire-sale of Merrill Lynch, but they hadn’t collapsed…although I suppose it will take some time to unravel/unwind things having to do with Lehman.

Walked around the waterfront promenade.  Yalta is very developed, and the boardwalk is extremely tacky but also a lot of fun.  You can wear Hell’s Angels outfits and get your photo atop a classic motorbike…dress up like Russian royalty…ride go-cars…pop balloons with darts…you know the drill.  And, of course, everyone walks around with a beer.  The promenade is called nab Lenina, and there’s a huge Lenin statue at one end.  These people are very pro-Russian.  But I saw a New Balance store on the promenade, and a McDonald’s too – Lenin would not be pleased.

Speaking of McD’s, I just bought some shares, and doubled down my positions on Coca-Cola and Philip Morris.  In my mind, these are the holy trinity of American stocks, at least in times of instability.  Americans will always drink Coke, eat Big Macs, and smoke Marlboros.  And foreigners will too.  Bless their souls, all of them.

A busker on the boardwalk was surrounded by crowds that night.  He had a guitar and a box in front of him, if you dropped in a coin he’d perk up and play for a few seconds, then become stationary again.  Pretty creative, although it got old after a couple minutes – like nearly all buskers.

A guitarist was playing Abba’s “Winner Takes It All.”  A bit of a Russian accent, but not that different from Swedish-accented English, so it worked pretty well.

Saw a guy with a huge potbelly wading into the surf later on.  I considered going for a swim here, but the beaches are heinous pebble affairs and I doubt the water’s clean.  A look at Yalta and her beaches:

A few older friends have recently gotten on Facebook.  Now I’m not the world’s oldest member.  I’m also not the most enthusiastic member, given the annoying number of emails that come my way.  But at least I’ve been able to reconnect with some old friends and net-net it’s a decent thing.

Around 11 p.m. or so, found a ‘normal’ pub, called Pub Pinma, and sat at the bar.  The barman spoke a bit of English and was friendly, we chatted a bit.  A very drunk older woman was to my left, and she became increasingly friendly too…she maneuvered herself onto my lap within minutes.  Eventually the barman came to my rescue and dragged her off me, and walked her out the door.  I thanked him, and he smiled and said ‘she’ll be back’ a la the Terminator.  And he was right, she did return for a bit, but they got her out again.  Sort of entertaining.

Later on a fellow came in and ordered a beer in English.  Sounded American, I asked him where he came from and he said ‘Alaska.’  I wasn’t trying to get a precise answer, but there it was.  The fellow, Garry, works in construction in Yalta for a local company and has had a colorful life, flying bush plains in Alaska and fighting in the Vietnam War.  We had to have our talk on Governor Palin, whom he sorts of likes – but he’s voting Obama in November because he feels like U.S. has gone downhill in the past decade.  He tells people he’s from Alaska, not the U.S., because Russia used to own Alaska, and even today there are towns in Alaska with Russian names and some Russian speakers.  Seems there’s a bit of affinity remaining between former colony and former master.  I refrained from complaining about the stockmarket, because Garry has very little cash saved up and seems not to care about that – I found that refreshing, given the hand-wringing I’ve seen and experienced myself lately.  That said, I wouldn’t be comfortable having a threadbare savings account when I’m 50+, but Garry isn’t retiring anytime soon and seems to love what he does.  Good for him.

Stumbled home around 2 a.m.  Had some trouble finding my hotel, despite its central location, literally 100 meters from the pub.  My radar shuts off when I have a lot to drink – not sure what I can do about that, except, perhaps, drink less.  Did I mention that the stockmarket has been shit lately?

Woke up with a severe hangover, and owing Yuhin in Hong Kong another call to review his recs.  Got up, went back to the telecom office, fired up the laptop, and downloaded his files.  Called him, we had a solid 30-minute call, and made some decisions.  Yuhin used to work for me at Monitor – this call felt a bit like old times.  Of course, now we were dealing with my money and not the client’s, but you know what I mean.  I decided not to convert a great deal of my holdings into cash, just a modest amount – we’ll see if I was wise or not pretty damn soon, methinks.

Remembered that I came to Yalta largely to visit the Livadia Palace.  Thought about how to get there, it’s a bit outside the city.  Had to get a bus ticket back to Simferopol for the next day, so walked up there and took care of that.  Looked around for minivans to Livadia – there was one, but it looked like a real ordeal (crowds, etc.), so walked back to town, still mulling my options.  A taxi would be easiest, but a complete rip-off – I didn’t want to give a thieving cabbie the satisfaction of taking me for a literal and figurative ride.  Saw a minivan heading west, hopped on that, and got off at the termination point, near Spartak Cinema.  Eventually found a connecting minivan that took me to Livadia.  It was now about 3 p.m., I’d spend at least a couple hours working my way here, but here I finally was.  Walked for 15 minutes and got to the palace…tried to buy a ticket, but they weren’t selling any more that day.  Torture.  I didn’t understand why they weren’t selling any more, but I did learn that the palace was open the next day.  I’d have most of the day in Yalta, my bus wasn’t leaving for Simferopol till 8 p.m.  I gnashed my teeth and vowed to return and get inside the next morning.  Coming to Yalta without seeing the room where the agreement was signed would be unthinkable.

Walked down to the beach, about 800 meters away.  Was somewhat concerned that I’d have to walk all the way back up – it was surprisingly steep and despite a sign mentioning ‘elevator,’ I had zero confidence that the way back up would be so easy.  Got to the beach – and found it was possibly, barely, to pick my way along some fairly dodgy pathways back to the city and my hotel.  Took about an hour, but was a good walk, through Primorsky Park with its statues of Chekhov and Gorky.  Was by now completely exhausted…and wanted to snooze for a few hours, but now that my sked had been mashed, I’d have to get going on this very slog entry right away, instead of the next morning – when I’d try again at Livadia Palace.

This entry has been written over the course of 3 days, during a wild week, so forgive any repetition, or, more likely, an ongoing, in-progress series of thoughts on the market and politics.  What I wrote on Wednesday night was, in some cases, nearly obsolete a half-day later – I’m sure you’ve been subjected to the same forces of nature this week.

Blasted out the bulk of the blogwork, rewarded myself afterward with a splurge dinner at upscale Tatar resto Harem.  Terrific food and drink – I had a scrumptious seafood soup, then veal fillets in mushroom sauce.  Top-notch stuff.  Also tried a glass of Georgian wine and a glass of Crimean – both pretty good.  The bill was a bit higher than I expected, particularly given my portfolio meltdown during the week, but sometimes when you’re not in the best of moods you have to fight back and try to enjoy yourself.  And as friend Ken said in a call later in the week, it’s not like I’m a highly-leveraged London banker with an insane mortgage on a flat in the capital, another on a holiday home, and a brand-new BMW Z-series.  I have no debt, so the swings I experience are, for now, only paper gains/losses.  But that’s only minor consolation – all it takes to turn paper into cash is a single email and a few hours, so these losses are far from theoretical.

After dinner, I walked around for a while, then went back to Pub Pinma for a beer(s).  Different bartender, and no Garry – so just stayed for one beer.  Was exhausted from the Livadia attempt and writing the blog, which tends to take a bit out of me while simultaneously providing a good, therapeutic lift from recounting the week’s adventures.  Checked email before crashing and found out that Israel’s Foreign Minister, Tzivi Lipni, won her (ruling) party’s primary and is likely to become PM very soon.  Good news, in my mind – she’s moderate and might be Israel’s best shot to forge an agreement with the Palestinians.  The alternative, unfortunately, is Likud and Bibi Netanyahu, who already served as PM once and did little more than stall the peace process.  I hope Lipni gets a fast start and comes to some agreement, then uses that to fight the next election campaign, which isn’t far off.

Woke up the next morning, checked news and email again, and found that the federal government basically bought AIG.  Hmmm…I suppose the big boys like Treasury Sec Paulson felt they had to take this step, and I don’t disagree…but aren’t the Republicans supposed to be the party of orthodox free-market economics and small government?  Yes, they are.  Yes, and that’s in part why we’re in such a mess – very little regulation, benign neglect by the government, etc.  Republican Presidents like Reagan and Bush II are famed for stating that government is bad and should stay out of your way – but they’re also the two biggest budget-busting Presidents in U.S. history.  Perhaps the only good thing to come of this mess is that it shows that when the shit hits the fan, there really aren’t any true-blue Repubicans, or Democrats – ideology goes out the window when you need to act to save the system.

Sticking with the political-economic theme, also noticed a new poll that showed Obama up by a couple points…not that it’s a real lead, given the margin of error.  But I imagine that the economic meltdown is hurting the GOP gang…and if losing 25% of my net worth is what it takes to elect Obama president, then I’m willing to take that hit.  Even 50% would be acceptable if we can just get the Republicans out of the White House…

Heard that Tina Fey spoofed Sarah Palin on Saturday Night Line – a natural skit for Tina to do.  I didn’t get to see it – will look for it one of these days on YouTube (if a reader has it handy, please email me the link).  But I can imagine another SNL skit, with the Palin family at a state dinner in a European capital.  The French President could teach Todd Palin which fork to use, which glass for wine and which for water, etc.  Maybe Sarah would insist on killing and bringing her own meat to the dinner.  The Palins don’t sound like a ‘typical, normal American family’ to me – they sound like a bunch of hillbillies.  The 17-year-old unwed daughter is pregnant…the boyfriend has bragged about being a redneck…Todd Palin was a member of a far-right secessionist party in Alaska…and Sarah has views that make the mother of Carrie (Steven King book/character) seem moderate.  What a cynical choice by McCain to pick her for Veep…it wasn’t a dumb choice, it was quite smart, but it goes entirely against his experience message and I’m very pleased that the Palins are now getting publicly vetted for the Mohegan firing in Alaska and various other controversies.  The gloves are off, the glowing accolades are diminishing, and I hope to see this continue.

Meanwhile, our so-called President, W., didn’t give a press conference in about 2 months, and yesterday finally came forth and gave a vague 5-minute speech without taking any questions.  It’s pretty clear that the intelligent members of the Bush Administration – Paulson, and I don’t know who else – have for all intents and purposes sidelined Bush and are calling the shots, getting his OK as a necessary formality/evil.  Which is a very good thing, in my book – for a while Cheney and that lot were making all the calls, but they’re by no means qualified for this real sort of work and I’m glad a former Goldman Sachs head is in charge.  I’ve got some classmates who work/worked for Goldman and they were all stars.

Bush’s excuse (proffered by his mouthpiece, Dana or Tony or whomever) for not talking to the press is that he didn’t want to interject himself into the election campaign.  Well, now – he’s still the President for a few more months, there is a full-blown financial crisis (and recession) on, and Presidents (good ones, anyway) are supposed to show their mettle and leadership in times of trouble.  Not Bush.  I mean, wouldn’t it be possible to say something intelligent that provides some direction to the people and the markets, without it being partisan and open to attack by the candidates?  Maybe not, but if I think about the best past Presidents, they’d be up to this challenge and wouldn’t shirk it.  What days we live in…

The Red Sox almost caught Tampa Bay, but then lost a couple and fell 2 games back.  Will be tough to win the division, although still very possible.  At least we’ll be in the playoffs again – and the Yankees won’t.  Na Na Na Na Na….

It was rainy and cold…I felt like slothing around, but had to return to Livadia to try again.  Again, a clusterfuck – had to wait in line for the ticket-seller to return from somewhere to her booth, then ticket in hand had to wait outside the gate while hordes of package tourists walked right in.  Entire process took a good hour.  Third world service at first world prices.  You can only enter Livadia in a group, so they make the non-package gang wait and either merge with like-minded others, or glom onto an existing package group.  I understand why they force people to get the guided tour, and I suppose it’s helpful (it’s in Russian so I got zero benefit from it, but hey).  One reason is that they can steer you towards the souvenir shops, of which I counted four, all positioned at the tour’s end, and all en route to the single building exit.  I split from my group near the end and wandered a bit, then blew through the heinous gift shops and out the door into freedom.

Livadia was built in the early 20^th century in classical Italianate style, for Tsar Nicholas II.  He and his family only spent 4 seasons there before the Bolsheviks took over, then it was game over.  The Palace has some poignant pics of the Romanovs – the tsarevitch wearing a sailor suit, the tsar’s daughters on the beach or playing tennis, etc.  Sad stuff – they had no idea what was coming.  I’d been to the cathedral in St. Petersburg where their remains, discovered a few years ago in a forest in Ekaterinburg, now rest, and they’ve been sainted by the Russian Orthodox Church.

The upstairs is devoted to the Romanovs and the history of Livadia Palace.  The downstairs is all about WW2.  The White Room where the agreements were forged, the English billiards room where the papers were signed, FDR’s living and dining quarters, and so on.  Lots of classic photos of the 3 dudes kicking back and trying to look relaxed as they carved up Europe.  I found this part of the tour fascinating (even though I had no idea what the guide was saying).

So it was worth the annoyance, after all.  Couldn’t come to Yalta without hitting Livadia.

Was getting ready to leave Crimea that evening.  Reflected on my week on the peninsula.  Crimea is an odd place – campy and cheesy, particularly Yalta, and way too crowded – in peak summer it must be unbearable, really.  But the views are good, there’s a lot of energy in certain places like the Yalta boardwalk, and there are loads of attractive women.  Like the rest of Ukraine, I didn’t find the locals all that open to foreigners, with a few exceptions of course.  No wild adventures to report from my month or so in Ukraine…but that’s how it goes, you can’t (usually) plan to have a memorable evening or escapade, these things sneak up on you and that’s the beauty of life.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Black Sea, Turkey awaited.  Got an email from Turkmen, a Turkish friend of a friend, who had looked into getting a Syrian visa in Istanbul – I had hopes of visiting Syria after Turkey.  Nope – the Syrian Embassy there said that Americans need to get a Syrian visa in the U.S.  Well, that was clear.  I won’t be going to Syria – so I’ll just spend longer in Turkey, and/or visit Armenia and Georgia, and/or visit Lebanon and Jordan.

Spent a couple hours looking into hotels in Istanbul.  Not terrific value there, but I found one place in the touristy ‘hood of Sultanahmet, and another in the nightlife district of Beyoglu, so will hopefully split my time between these two areas.  I wonder what the two hotels will look like – you never have any idea till you get there, the online photos are always incredibly misleading.

I’ll be in Istanbul during Ramadan, which will mute things to some extent.  Oh well, you can’t time everything perfectly.  I will very likely be back for a second round, once friend Dri gets there in mid-October.  I have a feeling I’ll get a pretty good sense of Istanbul after 2-3 stops there.

BTW, my UkrTelecom wireless card is *still* working.  I must have logged 25 hours on it by now – there must be some loophole I’m exploiting.  When I was at Tufts my fraternity had gotten hold of a device that, when plugged into a Tufts photocopier, would allow unlimited free copying – we took advantage of that to make our weekly newsletter copies and it was a great gadget to have.  Our ongoing fear (because any benefit must have a countervailing force) was that some dolt would accidentally leave it in the photocopier, and we’d lose it forever.  Sure enough, someone did just that – can’t recall who, but it happened and then we had to pay for our copies…which have gotten cheaper over time.

Markets were still wild and crazy as the end of the week loomed.  I had no idea what would happen…I decided not to make any more trades, and let the smoke clear.

It was Thursday night – I had to catch an 8:05 p.m. bus to Simferopol, and then an 11:30 p.m. overnighter to Odessa.  Caught a cab to the bus station, traded some emails with friend Don (Washington Mutual employee) while waiting for my bus.  Don wrote that WaMu is having a round of layoffs soon and he wonders what his situation is.  He’s a wanderer at heart and has an impressive travel resume – I think he’ll wind up doing something different, and better, pretty soon.

The dollar has been inching up here – noticed on a exchange office that they’re now selling dollars for 5 gryvnia apiece, up from 4.7 or so a few weeks ago.  The magic ‘5’ number – let’s keep this trend going, if the market’s falling at least I might get a small boost from better dollar purchasing power.  But I’m not betting on it…

Walked by a press agent and realized how much I miss reading the newspaper and newsmags.  I hope Turkey has some English-language publications…

Back to the bus trip…while waiting at Yalta station I saw an 8:00 bus to Simferopol, and then an 8:15 bus – but not my 8:05 bus.  Egads.  Asked a few people, I think they told me to wait and it would show up, and sure enough, at 8:02 it did.  Good – wasn’t looking forward to renegotiating my ticket or having to take a taxi to Simferopol.

That ride took 2 hours.  Uneventful, except that the bus didn’t stop at the Simferopol bus station, it blew right by (I didn’t even notice) and next thing I knew we were at the train station.  I asked ‘what about the bus station’ and the driver said we already passed it.  Torture.  I got off and looked for a way to get back to the bus station.  A local told me that a bus just pulling in was going there – bingo.  Got on…paid…and a guy in a front seat spoke to me in English.  Turned out he’s a German guy, I believe a musician, who used to tour with Wu Tang Clan.  Random.  He was in Simferopol to look up a local girl he knew, somehow.  Sounded very dodgy, but fun.  Outgoing guy – spoke zero Russian or Ukrainian, couldn’t read Cyrilic, but he tried to talk with the locals (particularly the cute girls) and I had a lot of respect for his chutzpah.

I wasn’t pleased about the bus situation, though.  I’d already taken one bus…now I was on a second…and hopefully, I’d get to the third and final bus, to Odessa, soon.  To make matters worse, I was coming to understand (from reading the tiny letters on my ticket and from looking at bus signs) that it was actually possible to take a single bus from Yalta to Odesa, and not have to switch, as I was doing, in Simferopol.  In fact, when I reached the Simferopol bus station, finally, and got on my bus to Odessa, the sign said ‘Yalta-Odesa.’  Hmmm.  I felt like a real idiot…I could have left Yalta an hour later and avoided the entire bus-switching mess.  On the other hand, it was a fairly interesting mini-adventure/ordeal, and it’s not like I’m able to have in-depth discussions with ticket agents about what is and isn’t possible…and certainly the hotel staff around here are not volunteering to help with things like this.  So I didn’t kick myself too much, I laughed it off and got on the bus to Odesa.  My bigger concern was trying to get some sleep on a crowded overnighter, and that proved to be a valid concern.

Long night…stopped a few times for petrol and pit stops.  In one WC, the tank was so full of urine it could have been classified as a small sea.  Reminded me of Indian WCs.  Wonderful memories, I assure you.  Managed to sleep for about 3 hours, hard – woke up feeling alright.  Finally got to Odessa after 11 hours…slightly amazed, after all this time traveling, that I pulled this little trip off without a major hitch.

As I collected my bags from the back of the bus, I saw a bus come in behind us from Chisinau, Moldova.  Now that’s a backwater…there are truly always other roads to investigate.

Got to the Passazh Hotel, where I’d made a booking before leaving Odesa a week ago.  This place is the epitome of faded Soviet (or even pre-Soviet Russian) grandeur.  Slowly falling apart, but still classic.  The hotel has no hot water…the toilets are very creaky…but the rooms are sizeable and it’ll do for a night.  As I checked in the receptionist read my surname and giggled.  I said ‘elephant.’  She laughed and said ‘da.’  ‘Slon’ in Russian  is ‘elephant’ and I don’t mind that nickname at all.

I’m getting on a ferry to Istanbul tomorrow (Saturday) night.  The journey takes 36 hours, I reach Istanbul early Monday morning.  I’m looking forward to coming into Istanbul by sea, the view is supposed to be stupendous, you go down the Bosporus and see the Golden Horn before landing.  And I’m looking forward to getting back to more exotic lands and customs – after 4 months in the FSU (plus Mongolia, a cousin of those lands), I’m ready for a change.  I’ve enjoyed Ukraine and found it more appealing than I did Russia, in most ways – less crass, better value, and a bit more open-minded.  I’ve learned a lot about how they’re struggling with their national identity, and the best path forward for the country – not an easy choice, given their legacy and their neighborhood.  In fact, during these past 4 months I’ve learned a great deal about a part of the world we don’t touch on much in Western schools – I feel a lot more able to understand their geopolitical concerns, as well as their everyday challenges.

Talk about real-time, on-the-ground education – I think that over the past 2.5 or so years I’ve been on the road, I’ve learned as much or more than I did in 4 years of college…and the price tag (per annum, considering inflation and current costs of education) is about the same.  I kind of wish I took a year off before, or during college, and did something like this.  But it isn’t too late…unless, of course, the next Great Depression is just around the corner.  I’m optimistic that it isn’t – keep the faith, dear readers.  Over and out.