I Get To See Palmukkale and Fall in Love

http://www.tatilyerlerimiz.com/pamukkale-denizli.html

HA!  Fooled you, all you romantics who keep thinking I am going to fall in love with the man of my dreams here in Turkey.  Well...I have fallen in love... but not with flesh and blood.  The wonderfully kind people at the St. John Hotel in Selcuk talked me into booking a tour to Pamukkale.  I am not a fan of tours... I should say that I  have never been on a tour, but it just didn't seem like something that I would enjoy.  I am too independent for my own good sometimes, and I like to strike out on my own when whimsy finds me, so I was dubious about a guided tour. However, I had considered Pamukkale a number of times as a place I wanted to see, so when Menehse told me that she could book me on a day tour there with a small group, I reluctantly agreed.  I was picked up at 8:15 the next morning and joined our driver, our tour guide Sardar, a nice Indian couple with their teenage son, a British couple who had a retirement home in Turkish Cypress, two friends traveling together who were event coordinators based out of Thailand, an Arabic couple and their son, and a man from D.C. who was an environmental lawyer for the Feds.  Fascinating company!

We headed off through the hills and plains of Asian Turkey on our three hour excursion through the Denizle province of Southwestern Turkey.  Pamukkale means cotton castle in Turkish.  High on the cliffs above the plains are a series of travertine calcite basins formed over thousands of years by hot springs tumbling gently down the hillside.  The entire side of the hill is white hardened calcite, which gives a beautiful azure tint to the warm waters that flow from basin to basin to the bottom.  Unbeknownst to me, Pamukkale is a world heritage site due not only to the natural formation of the calcite baths, but also because of the location of the ancient Roman city of Hieropolis that was built above the springs.  http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/485

Our ride took us through small and large towns in the province.  I love being a voyeur from the windows of a vehicle someone else is driving.  Sardar commented with interesting facts, some based in reality and some in fantasy and folklore as we made our way to our destination.  We passed through the large city of Aydin which is known for the fertile soil of this alluvial valley created by the once great Meander River, and the excellent agricultural products such as figs, apricots, peaches, almonds, olives, tomatoes, cucumbers, cotton, wheat, etc.  Our guide told us that the city claims 30 residents over the age of 100 yrs owing to the excellent fresh fruits and vegetables and healthy lifestyles.  I don't have a fact checker, but it seemed reasonable to me given the excellent organic (for the most part) produce I have eaten here in Turkey.  Unfortunately, western industrial  influence is creeping in here as well and the introduction of pesticides, chemical fertilizers, and plastic packaging will most certainly change that over time.  Turkey has had the remarkable ability to remain rather insular for years, but the yearning for economic status and recognition in the European world will most certainly destroy a way of life that has maintained it's stronghold over the centuries.  The current government is not a strong proponent of education, recently lowering the mandatory school attendance to four years!  It is likely that an uneducated populace will be easier to control, particularly in the eastern region of Anatolia so it will be interesting to see what happens to the Turkish people in the next 50 years.

As we left the Aydin province and passed into Denizli, we began to spy magnificent snow covered peaks of mountain ranges in the distance.  When queried as to the name of the mountain range, Sardar replied "Father Mountains".  I have since searched high and low for the name of this stunning range, and finally happened upon the name, Madranbaba Dagi, which translated indeed means "Father Madran Mountain" so I think this is the peak he was naming.  As Jeremy Seal, author of the fascinating book "Meander: East to West Along A Turkish River", aptly states, there remains to this day, limited and accurate topographical mapping of Turkey because of it's history of insulation and secrecy regarding the navigation of the land.  However, the Meander River flows through two ranges of which the Madranbaba is part, so I am fairly sure this was the peak we spotted from our van.  Having resided in the city for the past six months with only brief forays into the country side, I was feeling quite peaceful, relaxed, and grateful to spy mountains, forests and sparsely populated plains.

We turned off the main road and curved around and through some fairly rustic villages, climbing up and into the outskirts of the tourist area of Pamukkale.  Of course all tour guides typically have arrangements made with business people en route to bring money to the doors.  In true fashion we made a stop at an agate shop, where two floors of beautiful and expensive products of agate polishing were displayed for sale.  We also had a demonstration of an artisan carving an agate egg, which one of us on the tour would win.  (not me).

I  spent too much money in this shop buying various gifts for family and friends, as I was supposed to do!

On to Hieropolis.  I did not even realize that we would be walking through the ruins of this 2nd century city that lies just above the travertine pools.  However... it became for me the highlight of the entire trip, and the place with which I truly fell in love.

 We entered through the back part of the Greco-Roman city, where there were few tourists, and started with the Necropolis, which is one of the largest and best restored in the entire world.  I won't write too much about the history of Hieropolis except to say the such notable entities as Marcus Arelious (who was interred here), Cleopatra, Antiochus II, Frederick Barbarossa, and the apostle Phillip (crucified here) once walked the same stone streets upon which we were now strolling.

  Interestingly, there were a number of Jewish tombs in the
 Necropolis.  Antiochus had sent approximately 2,000 Jews to the city, and later Palestinian Jews joined the population.  It is estimated that there were approximately 50,000 Jews living in Hieropolus by 62 BCE.  Here is the lid of one of the sarcophogi.  You can see the menora carved at the peak, and the lion (tribe of Judah) beneath.  This would have been a wealthy and prominent Jew given the size and ornate nature of the stone coffin.  Some of the burial plots were round, and contained a large number of citizens.... the less affluent.  Of course the tombs have unfortunately been pillaged over the years, as well as the ravages of nature taking their toll with two massive earthquakes shaking the city to the ground.

                                                                                                                                  

I love the way the city designers set the entrance so the mountain peaks could be seen clearly as one came and went.  The setting of this place is so peaceful and magnificent.  The hillsides were covered with red poppies, vetch, daisies, buttercups, all manner of wildflowers.  I can imagine the voices of the crowds in the agora, the women coming from the baths, the sounds of chariots rumbling through the city.

This place was so special.  I cannot explain the feeling of walking though this breathtaking city.  I liked it much more than Ephesus for some reason.  As we exited the main gate, we headed as a group to the travertine pools.  Village women were busy scraping the bottoms of one of the empty pools.

The crowds were getting thicker as we made our way to the springs.  Children and families were happily playing in the water.  The calcite is slick and the water warm.  I removed my socks and waded for a while snapping a few pictures.

 I wasn't so much interested in swimming though I had my suit with me.  I headed over to the large pool, the restored bath of Cleopatra which was reportedly given to her by Marc Anthony.  Legend has it that bathing in this thermal pool will imbue one great beauty.  One can also have feet pedicured by little fish that consume the dead flesh from toes and heels if you are willing to pay the fee.  I was not interested in either of these attractions.

There was a sign indicating a trail that was supposed to lead to the site where St. Philip the Apostle was crucified and buried.  It lead up a steep hill, past the stunningly restored stadium, and into the hills where there were no crowds.  I had about forty minutes to take advantage and so I hiked that same path that Philip would have been made to walk on his way to an upside down crucifixion like his brother and friend in Christ, St. Peter.  The going was difficult.

I made the hike in time and sat there for a while.  A great sense of peace and sorrow overwhelmed me.  Here meditated in the middle of such otherworldly beauty, at the top of a hill near a place where one of the great patriarchs departed this earth.
There are ruins of a church later built in his honor near the site of his death.  It too seems to echo with peace and sorrow intermingled.  This was a place of accidental pilgrimage for me.  When I set out at the beginning of this day...I'd had not a single idea of the bittersweet journey I would be making.  But as I reluctantly began to make my way back down that hill,  I wept.  I did not want to leave the place....I had fallen in love with it, and later, I would note in my memo app on my phone for my children..."When the end of my life comes... bury me here."



People ask me often, now that I am in Turkey... "When are you going to go to the holy land?" presumably meaning Israel.  My response to them is this... "I am in the holy land now."  And so it was, and is still.

The Seven Sleepers & Ephesus

It was getting quite warm by the time I left the temple of Artemis and headed to Ephesus.  Someone offered to give me a ride to the other entrance, but I declined.  It was a beautiful day and I wanted to take advantage of the glorious weather.  There was a young man walking ahead of me on the road and he crossed the highway to enter the site the same time I did.  We walked sort of in tandem for quite a while in silence, he on one side of the road and me on the other, both of us stopping on occasion to allow the huge fat white tour buses to scream by.  After about a quarter of a mile I came to the main entrance of the site, but there was a narrow road leading to the left marked with a sign saying "Cave of The Seven Sleepers".  I had no idea what that was, however at this point the young man who had been sort of walking with me said  "You should start with the seven sleepers."  and then when I glanced his way...."Don't be afraid of me, I'm just taking my daily walk."  I laughed at his assurance, and told him he needn't be afraid of me either.  I turned left taking his advice, and he also headed that direction.  We started conversing from across the road, quieting our conversation when cars or taxis would drive by.

The landscape was absolutely lovely.  It's springtime in Ephesus
Olive groves, tangerines, oranges, peaches all at or nearing blossom stage.  Oh, and the occasional donkey feasting near a fruit tree.  I asked the young man if this grotto was worth visiting and he assured me it was.  He said he would walk with me until I was ready to be alone, so we asked each other the usual questions.... he was a resident of Selcuk and worked in hotels.  He explained the Seven Sleepers a bit to me as we neared it after a long hot walk down a slightly winding road.

According to legend, and the young man... (before I had read the sign... so there is some slight disparity)  there were six boys and a dog that ran away from some soldiers who were trying to kill them because they were Christians.  They blocked themselves into the cave and dug graves then fell asleep in the graves only to awake two hundred years later.  Upon their resurrection, many came to believe in Jesus Christ and eternal life.  When the boys aged, and died again, they were re-buried at the same site.  It has become a place of pilgrimage for many.  The sign tells a slightly different story, seven young boys and a dog, but I can accept it either way.  It was indeed special.     http://www.kusadasi.biz/historical-places/seven-sleepers.html  and like many places here... had an aura of holiness about it.

At this point, I wanted to be alone, to sit and think and have a glass of wine.  The young man was heading into the hills on a path that was not tourist, so we parted company.  I sat for a while and had a my wine and some gozleme and pondered life and death and how oral traditions can keep history alive for thousands of years.  I also thought about my faith and the history of the place where I was sitting.
I left the Seven Sleepers and moved up the hill towards the Ephesus gate.




As I was walking along the road.... buses still whizzing by...
I heard the tinkling of bells and the sound of sheep
 moving and calling.  Stepping off the main road I followed
 the sound, and sure enough there was a shepherd moving
 his flock.  I just sat there for a while listening and watching
and thinking about how we are like such sheep as well.  We follow the bells of the world blindly, munching on whatever comes our way, rarely looking up to see where we are going and what we are doing.  Without a caring shepherd, the sheep would blindly meander to unsafe places or places where sustenance is sparse or deadly.  I too have need of such a shepherd, and I am coming up on the gate to an ancient Roman city where a few of His apostles actually walked and talked.

I wandered through this city....silently gazing, wondering, imagining,   I really have few words for this place that was once a thriving Roman metropolis.  It did strike me that the theater where Paul made his argument, was in it's day such an important place.  I am sure the people thought the grandeur of their society would never disappear into oblivion, but here I am, and that once grand place in now a photo op for tourists.  Long forgotten are the names of the wealthy, beautiful, entertainers, politicians (most of them anyway) and business men of the day.  Instead, it's main claim to fame.... a Jew who preached the gospel in it's courtyard.

Streets worn smooth by centuries of travelers and residents - Who walked here?

                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

                                             

View of the Theater 

 The grand ampitheater - where countless gladiators fought, politicians pontificated 

and where Paul defended himself,

My day was overwhelming to say the least.  I was quite overcome with my visit to Ephesus, and tired, and sunburned and thirsty.  I headed back into town where I met Ferhad, the shoe maker.  Like all Turkish merchants, he asked me to take a look at his wares, but that conversation eventually turned into an invitation to tea and a deep political discussion.  I find, in spite of all the warnings not to discuss politics with Turks, they they frequently bring the subject up.  Their country (as most around the world) is currently embroiled in a dichotomous struggle between those who would rule with the strong arm of religion and those who would remain free to live and worship as they please, free from the dictates of power and money.  We shall see... the opinions are varied and depend on of course an individual's background and experience.

It is fascinating to me that in spite of the very strong influence and influx of Christianity in this amazing land.... there are few vestiges left, though some remain steadfast.  More on this in another blog.  Islam is of course the predominant faith here in Turkey, though much like Christianity is the predominant reported faith in the western world, I would hazard a guess that as many people here take their faith seriously as do in "Christian" countries.  It is not an easy puzzle to understand, religion.  It is difficult to live in this land of Turkey where daily we are reminded several times over that God is Great.  Say what you will, but there is no such public acknowledgement of a living God in Christian countries.  I know that Jesus walked the face of this earth.  Muslims agree.  I know he taught us to love one another.  Muslims agree.  I know he was holy.  Muslims agree.  Our problem comes with the claim that Christ was the son of God, a King most high, and a part of a triumvent power that is regenerative and all encompassing.  It was by plan that I visited this part of Turkey during holy week.  I wanted to be able to walk in these places and feel the spirit that became the bulwark of spreading the gospel into Europe and further.  Had it not been for the work and faith completed in Turkey, many theologians and historians agree... the western world would also most likely have become Muslim as well.  Again... a puzzle, and food for deep thought.  In the meantime... Easter approaches.  My next trip will be to a place that has been recommended to me... Palmukkale.  It will become for me a watershed of emotion, but not for the reasons one might think.  Until we meet on the streets of Hieropolis.....

Antiquities and Lizards and Turtles, Oh My

This morning I woke slowly after a very good night's sleep.  Eventually I headed to the breakfast provided by my hosts and was surprised to find not the typical Turkish buffet, but my own personal table heavily lain with simits, breads, eggs, jams, olives, etc. etc. etc.  I got my money's worth telling myself that I would walk everywhere today.  And so I did.

First up was to explore the column topped with a nesting stork couple, and the arch that stands next to it.  The shots I took in the dark did it better justice than the pics I took in broad daylight.  The arch was an entrance to St. John's Basillica.  A fortress surrounds the site of what was once a great church and is the purported burial place of John the beloved disciple.  http://www.sacred-destinations.com/turkey/ephesus-basilica-of-st-john  This link has a lovely and touching story about John's death that is still told today.  The fortress that surrounds the site is immense, very secure, and gave me a sense of eternal strength.  I did take some shots from non-traditional angles.  What struck me most about this place... is the magnitude of who lived here... and who taught here.  I do not have words to explain my feelings or emotion about being in this place.

The day was warming up nicely.  It was the off season so in spite of a couple tour buses, there weren't too many crowds.  Just below St. John's is a mosque that was built by Isabey, son of Mehmet, built in 1375 and still standing with the exception of one minaret that toppled in an earthquake.  What was different about this particular mosque for me was the ceiling, constructed of wood and cross beams, much like one might find in a byzantine chapel.

This is looking up at the still standing minaret of the Isabey mosque.

My hotel hostess had told me that I could walk to all
of the Selcuk sites with the exception of the
house of Mary, Jesus' mother.  She gave me a good
map and I was managing to navigate the town fairly
well.  I headed next to the site of the temple of Artemis. I am not very learned regarding Greek mythology nor am I much enamored, but I fell in love (sic) with this site ... not because of her temple ruins though ... there is precious little left of them, but because of the aura surrounding the place that was once considered one of the seven wonders of the world.



In this picture you can see St. John's fortress up on the hill left, below that the Isabey Mosque, and in the foreground, a single column left from the Temple of Artemis.



There was an odd serenity here that filled me with a sense of great happiness and peace.  I believe that had more to do with the creatures who  have inhabited this place, which eerily enough, fits right in with the mythology of Artemis, daughter of Zeus himself, goddess of wildlands and animals,
(among other things). 

The pools and ponds that once surrounded her temple have long since fallen into the hands of nature itself.  A stork couple nest at the top of the column, cats sleep lazily in the tall grasses surrounding the grounds, geese and ducks hiss and prance and quack and honk near water's edge, hundreds of rather large and ferocious looking lizards inhabit the broken scattered remains of the structures, and the water itself......is alive!

As I began to walk the murky water's edge, I noticed turtles sunning on some of the larger rocks.  Every rock as a matter of fact.  I love turtles, and actually had a dream a few days earlier about finding a place teaming with turtles.  It was a happy place in my dream, and the few turtles piled on the rocks in the late March sun seemed as if the dream were coming to life... it was then that I started hearing this strange sound... repeatedly and quickly,  plop plop plop at irregular intervals.  How cute I was thinking, the turtles are startled at me and dropping off the rocks, but the sound increased and changed and I was stunned and startled (I seem to need to use those words a lot here in Turkey)  to see THOUSANDS, and I am not exaggerating here, thousands of turtles on the banks of this once grand pool, slipping into the water as I walk past.  Their camouflage is so excellent I was unable to get a good picture with my simple little camera, but the memory of all those turtles will keep me smiling for years to come.  Artemis remains guardian over wild lands and the animals.

I had been walking and exploring for about 3 hours.  I wanted to stay at the site of Artemis, but two huge tour buses pulled up and began depositing loud people who failed to see the real treasures of the place, so I left quietly past the Turks hawking plaster statues of Artemis that were cleverly laid out on the hoods of their cars.  I did stop to talk to a woman who was picking something in the grass.  In broken Turkish with some gestures I managed to gather that she was picking dandelion root.  My daughter would have loved it.

I continued down the avenue to Ephesus, past the exercise equipment that line parks everywhere here, past strolling men, and couples arm in arm... on my way to the place the letter of Ephesians was written to.  I have seen pictures, but nothing has prepared me for the ability to step back into a time and place that is so steeped in cultural and spiritual history.  I had walked where St. John walked, stepped into a 14th century mosque, sat by the banks of the temple of Artemis, and was now on the road to Ephesus...

... and it wasn't even noon yet.

Ephesus or Selcuk or the Place I Thought I'd Never Get To See

The smell of coal smoke is thick and sweet in the warm spring air of Selcuk tonight.   I am happily ensconced in a very pleasant room overlooking a lovely courtyard at the St. John Hotel in Selcuk.  I had planned to come here for quite some time but it seemed at points as if I was being thwarted in my attempt.  Even up through today this trip seemed as if it would take some herculean effort to accomplish.  The last long weekend we had available at our school, I had made reservations to come here, but I became quite ill, and on top of the flu, a man (who turned out to be a bit of a disappointment in the end) encouraged me to stay in Istanbul and help him navigate the city.  I obliged, like a good hopeful "girlfriend wanna-be" ...and stayed home, cancelling my plans for Ephesus.  That turned out well after all because that flu laid me out flat.  The man on the other hand... well, he can go fly a kit.  Or a plane for that matter.  Nuff said.  Anyway....

It's spring break for our school this week, and I made plans again to finally visit this area of immense history and biblical weight.  You know, the book of Ephesians... well Paul wrote it to the church here after he had visited them.  I am not the biggest fan of Paul but I don't think he would care much what I think.  Peter is more my style... brash, jumping before he looks, shooting his mouth off before he thought about things clearly.  Yeah... I definitely identify more with Peter, but Paul was HERE.  HERE where I am visiting.  He spoke here and stayed here and I can scarce comprehend the age of this place and the fact that a man (John) who walked with Christ.... most likely walked here as well.  According to legend and anecdotal history... the mother of my Lord Jesus actually was brought here by John (St.) to live out the end of her life.  More about that next post.  I jump way ahead of myself before I've even had the chance to explore and dissect this area.

Ok... so I woke up early for me on a Saturday... 7:48.  Good I have enough time.  My flight leaves at 11 AM, I can do my morning thing, take my time... hit the 30D by 9 and be at the airport by 10 easy.  Right.  Traffic.  No 30D.  Taxi to Kabitas... slow tram even.  Transfer even slower.  By the time I arrive at Turkish Airlines counter my plane is no longer boarding.  I haven't missed a plane in  many years.  (Kim....?)   Well darn it.  Turkish Airlines will re-issue a ticket for 259 TL at 3:00 PM.  What?????  They were kind enough to send me over to Atlas... who in turn sent me to Pegasus.. . oh you don't want to read all this.  Long story short...Pegasus took off and landed late.  I missed the train to Selcuk.  I tried their "free" shuttle sitting and conversing with a nice Chinese family from Jersey also flying on Pegasus, who eventually decided to exit the shuttle because it hadn't yet left, but I waited for another 40 minutes.  The driver then disappeared and I was stuck in Izmir.  I marched back into the airport (like only I can march.... ask my children) and some poor Pegasus employee tried to sort my transfer out.  I was near tears, reminding myself to stay calm, don't panic... he put me finally on a train he said would take me to Selcuk.  The problem with that was the legend on the train didn't indicate a Selcuk stop.  Hmmmm.  I phoned the hotel and fell apart over the phone.   Mind you this is St. John's whom I cancelled with before when I got sick.  They told me I was on the right train.  No... maybe not.  Well maybe...I kid you not... I got on and off that damn train 4 times before I finally figured out... with the help of a security guard... that the real train was down a flight, back up a flight, and over to another station.  THEN... it turned out the station was closing, but.... the last train would come in an hour and I could pay on board.  I sat down on the bench and put my sunglasses on because I didn't want anyone to see me cry.  Then... this old toothless man, in his standard old man Turkish garb... suit jacket, sweater vest, cap... comes up to me and hands me two sprigs of greenery and smiles.  Cok Tesekuraderiz is all I can stammer out twice.  This small sweet gesture changed everything in a moment.  Suddenly I remembered where I was...on an adventure in Turkey....  heading to a place I have only ever dreamed of visiting.  I have a week to explore to my heart's content and I am NOT in a hurry.

The ride is pleasant.  Scenery shifts my perspective.  All is green and spring is evident.  Purple cabbages... a donkey foraging...many children flying kites.  Sun and trees and a land still resting in time.  Hold the world at bay... please.

The train slows and I exit at my destination.  My hostess is lovely and sweet and she commiserates about the journey with me as she drives the short route to the hotel.  St. John's castle walls loom above and while I won't really have time to explore much tonight... I am aware that I am walking upon many many layers of change and civilization.  Such triumphs and such sorrows this land has seen.  My hosts at St. John's prove instantly their Trip Advisor reviews are well deserved.  They are lovely hospitible people who welcome me with tea, sweets, wine, and a recommendation for dinner, which is actually a restaurant someone in the family owns.


  It turns out to be a wonderful spot, and the tavuk is fantastic.




 

 

On my way back to the hotel, I wander just a bit past the bars and shops and then down a street past very old columns and walls.  As I stop to take a picture, I don't notice, until it flies over me in protest... a stork on the top of the column.  It's mate still sitting on what must be eggs.  The sight takes my breath away.



 From another angle I get a shot of the arch in this picture with a bit of street light coming through.  Tomorrow I will try and gather more information about these structures... their age and significance.

 

All and all... the day worked out ok.  Upon arrival back at the hotel, my hosts insist that I not go out again when I ask for the nearest store for wine.  Instead they prepare a tray of cheese and a nightcap.  I am blessed.  Tomorrow is Sunday.  I am looking forward to exploring this ancient place and realize as I finish this sentence... the hassle, the difficulty, the requisite patience... it will all be worth it.  It is a lesson I must learn, if not now when?  The world can slow.  All things change.  What seems so important today will meld eventually into tomorrow.  All things will yet be well.

Contentedly yours.

Faces and Places in My Neighborhood

People who specialize in cultural adaptation will tell you that there may come a time when one might hit a proverbial brick wall after a few months in a new cultural environment.  May and might mean probably.  The routine becomes established and we become habituated to the exotic until it no longer seems so .... special.  We cease to see with fresh eyes, and the neighborhood baker morphs into just another guy that takes our money. The same can be said for anywhere we live.  We may be surrounded by day to day miracles and stunning beauty, but cease to be awake to it because we take it for granted.  As I hit that brick wall a week or so ago, I determined to set out over a five mile radius of my neighborhood and to re-awaken my senses and appreciation for the things and people around me daily.  In particular I want to connect with the human beings that have become part of my life here.  Not necessarily my colleagues, though a couple may end up on these pages serendipitously, but the merchants and acquaintances that make up the periphery of my day to day existence in Ortokoy, Besiktas, Istanbul, Turkey, 34340.

 

Saturdays are my shopping days.  I get to sleep in late, take my time with my morning routine and go for a walk.  I stop along the way into the neighborhood shops to pick up whatever I need, or want in the case of pastries and dried fruit.  Yum. Last week was beautiful and warm.  I went for a long walk up and around the long winding hill road back down into Ortokoy.  I have always wondered (I think I asked the question in another post) where the dogs in the area go to sleep or get away from bad weather.  I found out.  As I rounded the top of the hill, there under the bridge were about twenty dogs resting in the sun.  There are only eight visible in this picture, but I didn't cross the road to get closer because there is a large sign warning about the dogs.  You can see how each animal has it's spot staked out. It is still amazing to me how people and animals... dogs and cats manage to live in fairly unfettered peace.  The animals are definitely a part of the community here.  Sometimes they are taken in and domesticated.


 

Some are not.  This is the doorstep of the Cami (Mosque) just down the road from my apartment.  This is the resident guard.  He is not a domestic... you can tell by the clip in his ear which indicates that he has been neutered and given all his shots, checked for disease, bathed, and put back out on the street to live.  He earns his keep.  I have seen him sleeping on the bench next to the mosque as well. 

I am out of bread, and I have a yen for a nice Turkish pastry, so I continue down the road past the many little family owned shops that line the streets.  The Turks are big on bread.  It is eaten with everything and they've honed the art of doing creative things with flour and sugar and other lovely ingredients.  I can get a fresh loaf of wonderful bread for about 1 TL.  It doesn't have preservatives, and it is consistently tasty with oil, cheese, and olives.  Sometimes I choose one or two of their pastries as well.  These aren't light and fluffy by the way.  It takes me about three days to eat my favorite one, a heavy crescent stuffed with walnuts and honey.  These guys know me now, and I am always greeted with a lovely smile and friendly service.

 

Next up is the produce market.  These men also know me by sight.  They sell everything from giant artichoke hearts to eggs.  Today they talk me into some strawberries which will go well with my yogurt.  I also purchase some lemons.  Sometimes the youngest boy who helps out, will flirt with me... the older guys usually shoo him away though and take care of me themselves.  The oldest man sits in the back at a cash drawer and takes the money.  I love the fact that this little stand is not slick or commercial by supermarket standards.  The produce is fresh and reliable, the prices are excellent, and again... there is just something so very nice about seeing the same people every time I shop there and to have them know me and be so willing to help me with kindness, in spite of my limited Turkish.







As I rounded the corner I saw this man, a kebab restaurant owner, breaking up a crate for firewood to grill some meat on the street. 

This shop sells nuts, dried fruit, honey, teas, and  herbs.                                                                                 

They are very friendly and cheerful though I didn't see the proprietor working, I snapped a picture of the man who sold me some dried cherries, pineapple, mango and kiwi.  I've already eaten half of them.

Not all of my wandering were food oriented or animal oriented.  I try and buy fresh flowers often.  Nothing cheers me up so much as to have a nice bouquet on the table.  There are small flower sellers everywhere in Istanbul.  One area of Taksim is dedicated to flower stalls, much like Pike Street Market in Seattle.  I used to buy my flowers from this nice man who owns a shop on Dereboyou.  He would always send for tea and invite me to sit and have tea with him while he prepared my purchase of roses, or delphinium or whatever struck my fancy.  He was very sweet, but I stopped dropping in because I was afraid he would misunderstand my frequency.  Once some friends of his came into the shop and I am almost certain they were teasing him about me sitting there having tea, so I haven't been there in quite a while.  This lady sits at the bottom of our hill on the corner in all kinds of weather, selling her flowers.  We've gotten to know each other, and hug one another and greet each other now with the standard Turkish kiss.  The first time I bought flowers from her, she cheated me.  I won't go into details, but I did heartily complain to her in my limited Turkish.  The next time I stopped by, I cheated her.  She also heartily complained.  By the third purchase we had come to understand one other, and there has been no cheating ever since.  She is my consistent source for flowers.  Last time I bought a delightful bunch of gerber daisies from her.  Her husband happened to be present, and he slipped a little daisy head band on me along with a small bunch of miniature daisies.  I told her she was my arkadas (friend) and she told me I was sweet.

 These are some of the people and animals that inhabit my day to day routine outside of the work world.  They are interesting and friendly and genuine.  Like me, I am sure they are not perfect.  We all have flaws and shortcomings, but we live together in this village-like place called Ortokoy.  I have left some people out.  The guys at Epope where I frequent for soup and bread and wine, the Jewish restaurant staff who serve Turkish meals in an atmosphere that is decidedly different than the other places around, the grocery clerks, bus drivers, furniture guys, cell phone service people, and the bank staff that speak English, or not, but manage to help me anyway.  I now understand what it is like to be an immigrant.  How difficult it is to function in a foreign country with limited communication, and limited understanding of social and political intricacies.  Nevertheless, I continue to manage day to day thanks to others who surround me in this world.  They aren't all like me.  Many aren't even remotely like me.  And yet...
it is becoming "normal" to me.  I think today I realized that this routine... is a good thing.  It's predictability sustains me and comforts me.  We are all in it together.  Similarities and differences... adventure and routine... life goes on.  Forever.

Gratefully.........