This is Turkey

The answer to all questions about what is allowable here seems to be "This is Turkey." So in the spirit of the country and because of the people's love of the hirsute gentleman, I have decided to grow a moustache or 'stache if you prefer. It is currently at the "Gary Neville" phase--that is to say beginning phase. For those not obsessed with soccer, Gary Neville plays for Manchester United, is 34 and seems to have been trying to grow the same moustache for the past decade. So in the spirit of such questions as "is a fanny pack an okay fashion accessory," we will open this up to a poll.

So far, I have become obsessed with this country's version of tea and their love of backgammon. So, for me it is all about embracing the culture. Kristi, on the other hand, seems afraid of the new look. You decide. I will keep the 'stache until the public cries out for mercy (or doesn't) The poll will close on April 26 so vote early and often.

Goreme: People Say a lot of Things

From the land of fire and ruins we moved on to the strange land of Goreme in the center of Turkey. One long overnight bus trip is perhaps the only way to truly get the effect of the overall region of Cappadocia (Land of Beautiful Horses). As the sun came up, a valley of strange rock formations spread out across the landscape. The formations are similar to Bryce National park in Utah with one notable exception, they are full of caves. Thousands of small openings dot the hills with even smaller hollowed-out nooks for pigeon houses. It seems that pidgeons were a sort of second currency in the valley and the usefulness of their droppings as fertilizer and their eggs as the base for paint conferred on the owner's wealth.

What initially seems quite strange became downright surreal when we checked into our cave that morning. You read that right, to add to the strange places that we have slept on our trip, we now have a cave. A well appointed cave, mind you, with a full bathroom and all. Once we settled in and stopped giggling (no sleep + cave = giddiness) we set out for the open air museum for a primer on the area. While the open air museum does cost money, it is by far the best place to see frescoes that adorn a staggering number of the cave. In addition to dwellings, over the past thousand years settlers hollowed our grand cathedrals and adorned them with beautiful, if slightly crude at times, paintings depicting scenes from the New Testament. The location of Cappadocia along the Silk Road has meant that it has not had the smoothest history. Numerous invaders and new settlers have come to the area including Arab settlers who, during the Iconoclastic age, set about removing many of the frescoes. Seeing those that remained gave us a taste of what the numerous caves we would see in the next few days might have looked like.

The next day we joined a group and toured an eight floor underground city with secret tunnels linking similar caves up to 8 kilometers away. Trying to imagine life underground for weeks at a time while battles waged above ground was quite interesting. The rest of the day we explored the largest cave cathedral in the valley, did a short hike and finally went to a Onyx factory to see local artisans shaping Onyx. Here comes the thing I am second most proud of (after summiting Kilimanjaro) on this trip. As our group watched the shaping of the stones, the gentleman giving the tour said that the first to answer his next question would get to keep the stoneworker's resulting onyx egg. This was my moment to shine. Before he had quite finished asking what the meaning of Cappadocia was, I blurted out "Land of Beautiful Horses" and scooped the prize. Don't ever let Kristi tell you that I never get her anything pretty.

We spent our final day before our night bus back to Istanbul hiking through the amazing valleys. While there are always signs letting people know where a trail begins, once you start you are often on your own. A few times we walked along what appeared to be the correct trail only for it to dead end at a sheer cliff. But at the moment we were the most lost, we met up with two older shepherds who have the best racket in all of Turkey. After speaking with them for a few minutes, one offered to show us the way out. After a protracted walk that required some deft slides on our backsides down steep ledges, we emerged on the real trail. At this point, our guide let it be known that his services would require a rather hefty payment (mostly to feed his dogs, he said). Seems the best gig in town is to hang out with your buddies in any of the valleys and wait for lost tourists to amble by. But getting out of the valley seemed worth the post-bargained price that we paid to him.

And, as for the title of the entry... It seems that due to the similarities of the scenery to Luke Skywalker's home planet from the first Star Wars movie, there are many rumors that the film was shot in Goreme. Rather than dispell the rumors, our hotel guidebook just said "people say a lot of things." We both loved the vaguaries of that statement and chose to believe what a lot of people say...

-d

Chimaera: Is This Burning and Eternal Flame?

What's part lion, part goat, part dragon, and all fire? If you answered Chimaera, you'd be right. A short walk from Olympos is the mythical mountain of eternal flames. No really. After a late night, 7 km hike that began at 9 pm along a beach, "crossing" a river, walking through a village alongside a mountain, and arriving at a makeshift ticket stand manned by one man and one rabid German Shepperd, we arrived at a small mountain with eternal flames.

Though "scientists" don't quite "know" why flames spontaneously burst out of the volcanic rock here (wha?), it might involve some methane gas, and anyway, it's truly an amazing site. As you walk up the hill, flames of all sizes seem to creep out of the crevices in the rocks, some quite large and worthy of cooking salami over, or so we're told. We had a great time climbing around the rocks with our headlamps and checking out the fires. We also heard a lot of owls (sorta creepy), so after drying Dennis' socks and shoes, we left.

Which brings up our escapade-like walk to the mountain. While mostly uneventful (some dogs barking, the strong smell of lemon trees, pitch black part of the way), we had decided to try to cross the 3 meter wide river that flows into the Mediterranean by jumping over it. What makes a man believe he can do something he wasn't capable of 20 years ago? I'm not sure, but in this case, no alcohol was involved! On the way back, we had the good sense to take off our shoes and socks, hike up our pants, and brave the cold water. We arrived back at the tree house at 1:30 am--tired, but dry.

-k & d

Olympos

So we spent two lovely days in Istanbul, but because we'll return there before leaving Turkey, we'll give a recount a little later on. Our second stop in Turkey was in the small village of Olympos, on the southern Mediterranean coast. It may seem strange that we need a vacation after what's essentially a year long vacation, but every once in a while you need a destination that's purely about R+R. Olympos' chief draw, aside from a beach and the opportunity to sleep in a tree house, is a series of ancient ruins, connected by short hikes through beautiful mountainous countryside and groves of olive, lemon and orange trees.

We spent our first two days exploring the overgrown ruins--mostly dating from 2nd centruy BC to 3rd century AD--marvelling at the necropolis and mosaics, walking along aqueducts, hiking up to castles overlooking the sea, and stumbling across a theatre in the middle of the woods that still had some decent acoustics. The city fell into decline in the 3rd century AD because of pirates. Aaarg. But I guess we should thank the pirates for leaving such an idyllic vacation spot and some ruins behind. Visiting in the off-season meant that we had the place mostly to ourselves, but also that we (Kristi) only swam in the cold cold Mediterranean Sea for about two minutes.

We should also thank our friend Dan, who visited Olympos about fifteen years ago and recommended the original Kadir's Tree Houses as a place to stay in Turkey. While Kadir's turned out to be a little too rock n' roll for our country lifestyle, luckily about ten imitators have sprung up in the valley, so we got the relaxing tree house experience we were looking for. Aye matey!

-k & d

London's Burning With Excitement Now

Our original plan was to limit our time in London due to the ridiculously expensive nature of, well, everything, and because I really wasn't expecting to enjoy the city all that much. I'm not sure why I had any kind of aversion to the city. After all, it is the home of West Ham United, the soccer/football team I support. But as it happens, London is quite the happening town. Shocking, I know.

First off, we happened to choose a hotel that was both the nicest place we have stayed and located in the neighborhood that best fit Kristi and me. Being in the East End keeps you from some of the posh-itude that is lost on me, and our temporary neighborhood was like a little slice of Chicago, with a mix of Jamaicans, Lithuanians, Russians and the wild card of the cockney lads speaking in strange rhymed phrases and bedecked in all sorts of New York Yankees paraphernalia. Perhaps the most homey place yet.

Second of all, our friends Dave and Lolo bought us tickets to a soccer match at Fulham (the West Ham match had been switched to the day we were leaving). Fulham, apart from being the club with the most Americans playing, happens to play in one of the last remaining really cool old stadiums, Craven Cottage. The Cottage reminded me of Tiger stadium in its raggedness and the fact that many seats had large beams obstructing parts of the pitch.

To add to the already rich atmosphere, our seats were in the away end that was filled with Sunderland fans crazy enough to travel the length of the country to watch a match that meant next to nothing for them in the overall scheme of the season. What that means is that they are the most hardcore, most boozed up, loudest slice of fans you can find. For reasons of self- preservation, we chose to be hardcore Sunderland fans for the day (Kristi even wore the colors). And what a good choice that was. We learned all sorts of "colorful" songs where the subject's parentage was questioned, the size of the stadium was compared to a garden shed and all sorts of people were at a disco... Yeah, a disco. Luckily, Sunderland won 1-3 which made the fans even more enjoyable to be around. Plus, despite the worries that the match would be a bit slow due to the nature of what was at stake for the visitors, the opposite was the case. It was end to end action. A true highlight of the trip--we were even on the evening news!

Third, we got to walk around neighborhoods that constantly reminded us of our favorite bands and had any number of songs popping into our heads. There is something about seeing how places stack up to how you have mythologized them. Let's just say that Bridget Jones sadly has kicked punk rock's buttocks something fierce!

Finally, museums, great supermarkets, no touts, no language to learn, drinkable water. Very strange, indeed. Oh, and the great (?) East End humor (see photo above taken outside of West Ham's stadium). If anyone can explain what this sign has to do with laundry, please let us know...(I believe it's time, Kristi believes the answer is a little more socio-political...)

-d

Dar Redux

A bit of rejiggering of the timeline is necessary to pull off this entry. We have been to Dar es Salaam a total of three times in the past month, but we decided out of laziness to wait until the end to write an entry. Pretty sneaky, eh?

In any case, Dar is often spoken about as a haven for pickpockets and a denizen of the unscrupulous. Having spent some time here, we may have gotten lucky, but Dar has been a wonderful place filled with cheap South Indian eats and nice people. It may have helped that a guy we met in Hong Kong hooked us up with his friend James, who picked us up when we got into town and took us around for our first night out, as well as our first taste of the national dish, Ugali. Note to any Tanzanians who are reading this: move to the US and open an Ugali joint. We need it.

We felt really lucky to meet James and friends for an early introduction to Tanzanian culture and politics. Thus we were able to learn the two most versatile greetings in Swahili and accept that we'd spend the next month perfecting the important art of greeting people.

We spent much of our time in Dar winding our ways around the old city and enjoying the tightly packed streets of merchants, mosques and intricate mosaic work that can be seen on the most mundane apartment buildings. Perhaps the most striking element of our time in Dar was our coming to grips with what 'rainy season' actually means. At least twice daily, the skies would open up and turn all of the streets into raging rivers and seemingly spawn hundreds of young men selling umbrellas. As far as touts and street vendors go, umbrellas in the rainy season seems downright sweet. And, so too, Dar. Sweet.

-d

Narrow Streets, Sandy Beaches and Golden Fleeced-Rats

As a reward for making it to the top of Kili, we decided to spend a few days in Zanzibar enjoying Stonetown's streets and the beautiful beaches. The only downside is that Zanzibar is not exactly a haven for hard-bargaining, budget travelers. It is, in fact, a haven for some touts who may or may not be on doctor-approved drug cocktails. The effect is that when you emerge from the ferry into the terminal there are a host of guys with various twitches all representing the "official" tourist board of Zanzibar. They all work for "free" and they all would love to be your guide/hotel-finder. After some cunning duck and weave maneuvers we found a hotel and set out to tour the city.

Stonetown is a a strange labyrinth of narrow streets, crumbling buildings and the most ornate doors we have ever seen. The effect of walking around the old city is that you constantly feel lost and disoriented while simultaneously always finding your way. To add to the atmosphere of the streets there seem to be infinite small Arabic Schools where you can here children practicing their lessons or doing the call to prayer. Without a doubt, Stonetown is our favorite neighborhood so far on our trip. Plus, we were able to end our evening having a seaside drink at the bar named after (I would hope) Zanzibar's favorite son, Freddy Mercury.

As amazing as Stonetown was, the real goal of Zanzibar was to sit idly on the beach and stare at the water. In order to do this we had to by enough food to get by and screw up enough courage to attempt to bargain with the most reticent hoteliers that we had encountered so far. After a fit of haggling and attempting to grasp the concept of price increases for the low season, we settled into a simple room at Kendwa Rocks resort. As advertised, the beach is pristine and the water perfectly warm and clear. Things were looking good with our first afternoon's hammock time.

But, as readers may have come to expect, there is always another shoe waiting to plummet. This time, that shoe came in the form of an extremely large, very real, golden colored rat who crawled into our room through a hole in the ceiling. Luckily, his entrance was less than graceful and I was able to snatch our meager rations from him/her prior to losing our lunch and dinner for the next few days. A small game of chase and the rat left our room. The rest of the night was spent building makeshift traps to keep the rat's buddies from coming back for our carrots and tomatoes.

The next day we moved into the less stuffy, more affordable and seemingly rat-less dorms. The next 3 days became a wonderful muddy blur of hammocks, swimming and getting a bit sunburned. Quite a nice reward and a wonderful way to say farewell to the African leg of our trip. We hated leaving the beach but it was back to Dar es Salaam for 2 days and off to London.

-d