Saudi Arabia
A Little Bit About Jeddah
You may have noticed a new look to my blog recently. The new heading graphic featuring the blog title is actually from a photo I took myself here in Jeddah. After some manipulating with Photoshop, the result is what you see now. It looks like a painting, doesn’t it? This is the original photo ...
This is the picture that I created my blog header from, taken at an amazing structure which was built by one of my husband’s cousins, a highly successful and shrewd businessman who passed away not too long ago. We were driving around the city one evening when hubby pulled off a main road and stopped the car in front of this enormous and magnificent development called Altayebat International City for Sciences and Knowledge. It was closed, but even at night the structure itself was quite an interesting sight. Hundreds of oxidized metal antique lanterns provide lighting for the outside. The entire walled-in compound consists of eleven different buildings which are all white with intricate decorative wooden detailing on all windows, doors, facades, balconies and porches painted brown. There is a huge green dome plus several beautiful minarets towering over the buildings. What I was able to photograph was an enormous replica of Old Jeddah constructed along one of the outside walls of the museum. The mini city appears to be made of clay or gypsum and spans an area of about 25 feet wide by 4 feet tall. The charming little village has arched doorways and windows and flat roofs with lots of attention paid to every minute detail for accuracy. The educational facility was built to teach underprivileged children and even houses many of them who are orphaned.
Adnan’s cousin also had built one of Jeddah’s finest historical museums which unfortunately was lost in a fire several years ago. I have seen many photos of this museum and it was splendid. The museum had a collection of some 10,000 artifacts which reflected the history and progress of Jeddah’s civilization. The tragedy of the museum fire was an immeasurable and tremendous loss for the city of Jeddah.
My husband has told me that when he was a boy, Jeddah’s population was only about 30,000 people (compared to estimates of upwards of 4 million today) and that the city was completely walled in. At night the gates to the city were closed and no one could get in or out, and families felt safe enough to sleep up on the flat rooftops when the weather was too hot. The high stone wall totally encircled the town and was actually rebuilt by the Ottomans during the 16th century, to protect the citizens of Jeddah from aggression from Portugal. The Ottomans remained in Jeddah until 1915 and their influence is still evident in Jeddah today, seen in the architecture throughout these old historic parts of the town. Today the wall and its gates are no longer standing as Jeddah’s phenomenal growth has pushed its boundaries way beyond that original wall.
Jeddah’s history goes back some 2500 years, when the area was first inhabited as a small fishing village. Its location on the Red Sea and its close proximity to Mecca played important roles in Jeddah’s importance and growth in the ensuing years. Mecca is the holiest city of Islam. All Muslims are required to journey to Mecca at least once in their lives for the religious pilgrimage called the Haj, with many Muslims making the trip more times than just the once. Since Jeddah is the closest seaport to Mecca and only a one hour drive away by car, Jeddah benefits economically from the millions of pilgrims who make this trip each year. Jeddah’s airport is also the largest in the whole region as well, with a special terminal just for Haj pilgrims. Because of this tremendous influx of visitors from all over the world, Jeddah is thought to be a little more progressive, cosmopolitan and informal than the capital city of Riyadh, which gets far fewer outside visitors. Riyadh lies smack dab in the middle of the country, a tad isolated from the rest of the world, and is surrounded by mostly nothing but desert for many miles.
Modern day Jeddah boasts the world’s largest outdoor open air art gallery, with hundreds of sculptures and other works of art sprouting up mostly all along the Corniche and in the center of many of the city’s roundabouts located at major intersections. For your viewing pleasure, I have posted an online photo album featuring many of these beautiful, interesting, sometimes whimsical, sometimes weird sculptures at the following link:
Sculptures of Jeddah
Jeddah is a city with an interesting mix of the ancient and the thoroughly modern and has a charm all its own. It is a melting pot of sorts, a unique place to live with inhabitants from all over the world. Jeddah is steeped in tradition and rich in culture yet leads the way in welcoming and accepting the outside world. I look forward to discovering more of this fascinating place and sharing my findings with you.
Mother in Law
Back in 1950, my husband’s mother Tata was married at age 12 and gave birth to my husband when she was only 13. Adnan’s dad was 21 or 22 when they married. At the time of her marriage, she had attained a 4th grade education. This was not unusual for that era in Arabia, but hopefully it doesn’t happen (much) in this day and age, except possibly among the remaining Bedouin tribes.
(Girls in the Kingdom now achieve at least a high school education. Some are married off then, and others continue their educations and obtain higher degrees at universities or even go on to get their PhDs. Even so, most still do not work outside the home.)
One day when Tata and I were sitting in her living room, she told me in her limited English a little about her experience.
“Me eleffen oh twelf years get married,” she said in her cute thick accent. “Mama and Baba kuh-razy! Me too young. Me baby!”
“Baby Adnan come after one year. Then baby, baby, baby after.”
Well before her 20th birthday, she had four kids.
She did not know her husband when they married. She was still playing with dolls. She told me that even though she had an older unmarried teenaged sister, Adnan's father wanted only Tata as his wife. It was, of course, an arranged marriage. But over the years she grew to deeply love her husband, who was a kind and good man. Adnan is the spitting image of his dad, who passed away right before we met 30 years ago. This, coupled with the fact that he is her first born, makes Adnan very special to Tata.
But Tata herself is very special. This woman with only a 4th grade education, who was married as a child of 12, raised four children who all graduated from college. (My husband has his PhD and his sister married a highly successful man who has his PhD as well.) This "uneducated" woman owns property, has managed her affairs by herself for the last 30 years, has a live in maid, loves to cook and learn, and has a great sense of humor. She is as generous as she is stubborn and strong. Even though my Arabic is very limited and her knowledge of English is not extensive, somehow we manage to communicate most of the time. She and I each try to teach each other new words and phrases. We enjoy each other's company and always laugh together.
Tata has an antique Singer sewing machine that she got shortly after her marriage. It is beautiful - well worn, but has been lovingly taken care of over the years, and it runs like a dream. It doesn’t even have a zigzag stitch, just a straight stitch and reverse. It is black with gold lettering and designs on it. The machine is heavy – it must weigh 25 pounds. I had to prove my sewing skills to her the first time I asked to use it, but now she lets me borrow it any time I need it.
My now-hairy 15 year old son Adam had been bugging us for months to get him an electric shaver. The other day, my husband came home with an old Philips electric shaver in a slightly tattered box, for Adam. The shaver itself is like new and works perfectly. I asked Adnan where it came from, as I haven’t seen any second hand stores around here. I don’t think they exist.
“It belonged to my father. Can you believe Mother has kept it all these years?” he said.
I caught my breath as tears came to my eyes and my throat tightened. I am and always will be a sentimental fool. This gesture, this kindness, this generosity! Surely this shaver was more than just an electrical appliance to her. The fact that she gave it to MY son and not one of her other grandsons spoke volumes to me and touched me in a way I cannot express. Nothing she could have done could have made me feel more accepted as a part of this family.
I always jokingly told people back in the states all those years that I was lucky I had no in-law problems because mine were on the other side of the world. Now that I have made the journey and am living right across the hall from my mother in law, I know what I have been missing.
My Middle Aged Husband Has Become A Party Animal!
When we first met some 30 years ago as university students in Arizona, my husband and I were in our mid-20s and quickly fell head over heels in love. Of course our lives revolved around our many friends and socializing, staying up late and having lots of fun. We entertained quite a bit, hosting frequent get togethers in our home ranging from smaller groups of friends to huge blow out parties. Our social calendar was constantly filled with other events as well, like the Taste of Tucson, the 4th Avenue Street Fair, rock concerts, camping, and traveling around the countryside. We also used to go to the neighborhood clubs to play pool, or dance, even though later on he confided to me that he just pretended to enjoy dancing in an effort to “hook” me! He was so much fun to be with and could definitely be the life of the party.
As we grew older and our student days were over, the reality of "working for a living" set in. We still hosted parties in our home and led active social lives, but not to the extent of when we were college students. My husband has always required a good night’s sleep, while I can get by on a few short hours. It’s not unusual for him to get 9-10 hours of sleep or more each night, with me surviving on only 4-5 hours just fine. If he doesn’t get at least 8 hours of sleep, watch out! – what a grump!
Once he hit 40, my hubby became less socially inclined, somewhat of an old “Fuddy Duddy.” I used to have to prod him to agree to go to an event with me or to get together with friends. He would have just as soon stayed at home to sleep than to go out. When we had dinner guests, I can remember a couple of occasions where he just excused himself and went to bed when he felt our guests had been there long enough! He has never enjoyed movies - there are no movie theaters here in Arabia, so people are not exposed to the joys of the whole movie theater experience from an early age, like in America. Lucky for me, my son developed a love for movies like me, so he and I would frequently go to the movies while my husband stayed home to nap. Going to the movies is one of the things we miss the most about the States.
I would often go out with my girlfriends for Girls Nite Out of dinners, or the movies, and even on some out of town excursions. I would constantly encourage my hubby to go out with his small circle of friends, but it was a very rare occasion if he ever did. He seemed to lose interest in having fun and enjoying himself. His priorities had changed and he felt saddled with responsibilities at home and at work and he was pooped.
Since we moved back to his homeland, the man has become a PARTY ANIMAL!!! Now, I use the term “Party Animal” here, but partying here is a totally different concept than in the States. For one thing, there is no alcohol involved, plus there is no co-mingling of the opposite sex. There are always family get togethers here, many times lasting until the wee hours of the morning and now, miraculously, my husband has no problem attending or staying up late. He also now goes out at least 2 or 3 nights every week to spend time with his brother (who recently retired) and his friends at a café, where they play cards, eat, smoke hookahs, tell jokes and have fun. There have been many weddings that he has managed to attend as well – it was like pulling teeth to get him to accompany me to weddings back in the states! Some nights he doesn’t get home until after 3am. Now, he calls all of this activity "networking" or "conducting business."
Since only men are in attendance, I am not bothered by any of this at all. I am happy that he seems to have been “reborn” and rejuvenated by being back in his element, renewing old friendships, and spending time with his brother. Just the other day we were driving along, and somehow I asked about brothels in Arabia. My husband insisted that there are none, since it is "haram" (forbidden) and it would be too risky to operate one in the Kingdom. He then went on to say that if there were any, he didnt' know about them. So I joked with him that it was a relief since he has been keeping such late hours ! It is just surprising that this is the same man who in the previous years would have none of staying up late or having fun.
My old Fuddy Duddy has become a Party Animal once again!
Shopping at the Fruit & Vegetable Souk
Most of the entire area is covered by very high roofs which provide shade for the produce, the vendors and the shoppers. There are a couple dozen wide aisles separating sections of citrus and melons from onions and potatoes to peppers and legumes. At times when we have gone there during warmer weather, the smell can be overwhelming, and NOT in a good way. But it is actually quite a pleasant and fun expedition in the cooler weather. I find the enormous and plentiful displays so colorful and artistic and my camera finds these aesthetic delights irresistible. For being an open air market, the place is surprisingly clean, though, not surprisingly, worn with age. There are row after of row of neatly stacked produce, in boxes, cartons, bags, and crates. You can buy in bulk for astoundingly cheap prices. Or you can buy smaller amounts of produce which has been washed and packaged for a little bit more, still well below the prices you would pay in the States.
There are some items that I have never seen, much less tasted before. I never knew that cabbage and eggplant could grow that big! Around the city you will see many much smaller open air produce markets, but I believe this big market is where most vendors get their produce to sell elsewhere. I am sure many restaurants also buy their fresh produce from here as well, as you just can’t find prices any lower than this anywhere. The only products available for sale here are fruits and vegetables, with the exception of a small kiosk in the middle of the market that sells cold drinks and ice cream, which on a hot day can be welcome lifesavers.
Privacy is highly regarded here in this country, especially by women, so I would never take pictures of women’s faces without their permission. I also prefer to ask the male gender if they mind if I take their picture as well, and usually the responses I get are delightedly obliging. Once when my husband and I were at the ultra-smelly open air Yemenis market, I politely asked a vendor if I could take pictures of his huge pot full of dozens of cooked lamb heads, but he wouldn’t allow it unless we bought one. Consequently, now I try to be a little more aggressive and just start snapping away at inanimate objects that I like and think will make a great shot for fear that I will be denied the opportunity.
On our most recent outing, my camera hung happily and eagerly from its strap around my neck. I began shooting the colorful displays of fruits and vegetables that were just begging me to take their picture as we walked along. With my hubby selecting our purchases and wheeling and dealing (which I am no good at), I had plenty of time to look around and get my shots. Adnan is able to bargain with vendors and gets the products for sometimes half the price of what was originally quoted. After a transaction was completed with one vendor, I asked the man if I could take his picture. He happily obliged. Well, word must have spread like wildfire because after that, vendors approached me right and left to take their picture. Everybody wanted in on the action. I don’t know what exactly was being said around the market, but one vendor actually asked me if I was taking pictures for television or the newspaper! My husband just closed his eyes and slowly shook his head in disbelief. At least I am making his life a little more interesting than it might be otherwise!
So, I have posted a new photo album which, I warn you ahead of time, some may find a little boring since it contains photos only from the Fruit & Vegetable Market. So for those of you who appreciate beautiful fresh produce and enjoy the various colors and artistic qualities fruits and vegetables possess, or if you'd like to view some interesting faces of the delightful vendors, click below to see my photos of …
Happy Valentine's Day ... or NOT !!
Today Valentine’s Day was celebrated in many places around our globe, but here in Arabia, it was actually forbidden. The government evidently comes out every year (for the last 7 years) with an edict forbidding the sale of red flowers, red hearts, red lingerie, red heart shaped boxes of chocolates, red balloons that say “I Love You” and other illicit red lovey-dovey items during Valentine’s week in hopes of discouraging people from celebrating it. Valentine’s Day is viewed as an obscene western holiday that encourages unmarried individuals to engage in “immoral relations.”
When I told my husband that I had read several articles online saying that the Saudi government had taken this action, he - being the pessimist that he is when it comes to believing news reports - reacted by saying that it couldn’t possibly be true. Now mind you, my husband spent the last 30 years in America, so this is his first Valentine’s Day back here in Arabia in that long. So after we dropped our son off at school today, on Valentine’s Day, for his rugby practise, I convinced my husband to stop at a flower shop along the way to disprove the validity of these reports I had read. We walked into the shop and the man behind the counter was putting together a beautiful bouquet - of red roses! There were also several other bouquets on display around the shop boasting red flowers. So seeing all this, my husband confidently steps up to the counter and asks the guy if the government had put out an order against selling red flowers during this time. The guy replied “Yes!” but that they just ignore it and go ahead and sell the stuff anyway.
The Virtue and Vice Squad swoops down on shops and confiscates any Valentine themed items, including teddy bears or other racy symbols of love. What this government action does in reality, however, is to cause the prices for these black market items to skyrocket during Valentine’s week. The V&V Squad cannot possibly hit each and every floral shop in the Kingdom, so just imagine how much of these scandalous products get sold at ridiculously gouged prices during this time. The government is actually helping out the floral shop owners who are able to make a much higher profit on such in-demand contraband!
What I don’t understand is - who in the heck does the Saudi government have doing its Public Relations work? Coming out each year and decrying Valentine’s Day – what purpose does this serve? The government here does this to satisfy the powerful "Muttaween," the controversial religious police who are in charge of imposing strict moral codes onto Arabian society. But the harm it does to Arabia’s image to the rest of the world is very damaging. The thing is, though, that this government is very comfortable in its own skin and it really doesn’t care about its flakey image to the rest of the world. But instead of coming out with rubbish like this each year forbidding this holiday, why not just keep “mum” on the subject (excuse my play on words – I couldn’t resist) and let the holiday slip quietly by without any attention drawn to it?
I don't expect roses or anything like that, but I'd be awfully happy with some dark chocolate when my not-so-romantic husband gets home tonight! Happy Valentine's Day!
The Price is Right!
Most things, in general, are cheaper here in Arabia. Gas, of course, is a lot cheaper. Adnan fills up his SUV for about $8-10. But not only that, an attendant pumps the gas for you and you get a free box of tissues with every purchase! In fact, we got 3 boxes of tissues with today’s fill-up! One of our kitchen cabinets is full of boxes of tissues. Adnan’s mom bought him a Toyota SUV for about $25,000 - an enticement she dangled in front of his nose to persuade him to move back home. I would guesstimate that a comparable vehicle in the States would run between $30,00-35,000 plus taxes. He recently took it in for service to the Toyota dealership and it cost $20 US for complete servicing, and it included a car wash.
One big reason why things are cheaper here is because THERE ARE NO TAXES! So think about it: vendors and businesses do not have to pay income taxes, sales taxes, city state or US taxes, occupancy taxes, licensing taxes, or any other kinds of taxes that US businesses are hit with, which in turn must be passed on to the consumers. Smaller businesses here have a much better chance of surviving because they don’t have to fork over so much to all the government agencies nickel and diming them to death like in America.
Food – whether buying groceries or eating in a restaurant - is also cheaper here. One night we went to a burger place and the three of us ate (burgers, fries, onion rings and drinks) for about $8. We’ve gotten into the habit of trying to get Dominos Pizza the first Monday of each month because they have a 2-for-1 special, plus you get a free TV movie guide. (So far I haven’t been able to find any TV programming guides, so this helps.) We get 2 large pizzas with whatever toppings we want plus 2 liters of soda, plus the movie guide for about $10-$12. By the way, the Dominos Pizza here is fabulous - I never cared much for Dominos back in the States. The pepperoni and sausage are not made of pork, of course, but whatever meat they use for it, it’s delicious and they are not at all stingy with it.
Fresh produce is incredibly cheap here when you buy it from the outdoor markets instead of a supermarket. For example, at one huge outdoor vegetable market, we got two crates full of big beautiful tomatoes, with about 24 tomatoes in each crate, for 5 riyals, which is about $1.25! Bread is about 75 cents for 2 loaves. We often share groceries with Adnan's mom - she has us over for meals several times a week and she always has tons of food. She even makes her own potato chips and cheese! She also makes a lot of things I have never had before. Adnan is a better cook than she is, but her food is good, most of the time anyway. Food seems to taste better here too. Now this could have something to with that maybe it has more fat and may not be as health conscious. Or maybe because it is fresher and not processed.
Clothing and shoes can be just as expensive as the states if you shop in the more expensive stores. But you can get really great quality clothing for a fraction of the cost if you go to the right places to shop. I have gotten some long traditional dresses made out of really nice fabrics, beautifully embroidered and embellished with beads and sequins for about $8 each. And that’s the regular price, not a sale price. We bought Adam some nice school pants and polo shirts for about $8-10 each as well, which is about half the cost of his uniforms back in Florida.
Electronics – cameras, TVs, DVD players, etc. – cost about the same as the states, if not slightly higher. But they do have sales, and we purchased a PS2 for about half the price of what it is in the states. DVDs and CDs are ridiculously cheap here – and this is because they are pirated copies, I imagine. They are at least 1/10 to 1/20 of the cost in the US. You can also purchase one single DVD with a half dozen Julia Roberts films on it, or all the Harry Potter movies, or a collection of action movies and the like, for about $1-$2 per DVD. You do have to be careful though when purchasing movies that have just come out in the movie theaters and are not yet out on DVD – the quality can be really poor.
One thing that is interesting here is that areas or streets have mainly one kind of business. Like if you want to repair your car, you go to, say, Al-Hera’a Road and there are dozens of car repair places right next door to each other to choose from. If you want electronics, you go down to another street. For household items, go down to the Al-Hindawiyah section, or if you need computers or electronics, just go down to this particular area or street. For fresh produce, there is this huge open air vegetable and fruit market with hundreds of vendors that everybody goes to, and the prices are amazingly cheap. You can also go to supermarkets similar to Safeway, but you end up paying twice as much for fresh produce. For some things, there is just one section in the whole city, which makes it pretty inconvenient if you live far away. But for other things, there are several areas you can go to in the city, so it is much more practical. It does make it easier, I guess, when you are comparison shopping. Like when we were shopping for furniture, we just parked the car and went from one shop to another in the same area. There are a few 1-stop shopping stores here now, similar to Super Target or Super Walmart, which are becoming popular. Pharmacies aren’t like Walgreens or CVS, which now carry many other items outside the realm of “drug stores.” If it doesn’t pertain to health, chances are you can’t get it there. At the same time, the only stores that carry aspirin or ace bandages are the pharmacies, so you still may have to go to several different specialty stores just to get your shopping done.
One evening, we went out looking for an optical shop to fix Adnan’s broken glasses. He had set them down on the front passenger’s seat of the car, and OOOOPs! I accidentally sat on them and broke the frames. These glasses were at least thirteen years old, big square shaped tortoise shell horned rim glasses. I broke off one of the arms by breaking the hinge. We spotted a small optical shop, so Adnan parked the car and dashed inside, while Adam and I waited in the car. Less than half an hour later, Adnan returned to the car wearing a brand new pair of glasses! The guy at the shop said that they didn’t replace the hinges on glasses but that he could take out the old lenses, cut them to size and put them in brand new frames. Now Adnan is not a fashion conscious guy at all, but I must say, he selected a really cool stylish metal frame that looks great on him. The frame is incredibly flexible – he can just about tie the new glasses in a knot! Adnan paid 150 Saudi Riyals for the new glasses – about $56 US! And the really amazing part for me is that he walked in off the street and walked out of the shop with the new pair of glasses in less than half an hour. Could this scenario EVER happen in America? I think not!
Most of the utilities are also less expensive here. Our electric bill for a whole month runs about $25-30 US per month. And that is with running the AC all day and night. Of course, each room here has its own individual AC unit, so the AC only runs in the rooms that we are using. In Florida our electric bill would run over $200 a month during the warmer months when we ran the AC and about $60 the rest of the year. Here you don't really get monthly bills in the mail. Since there aren't really street addresses per se, mailing out monthly bills isn’t an option. If you want to receive mail, you have to get a P O Box. The phone bill and the electric bill are actually sent to Adnan as text messages through his cell phone. I would have to say our phone bill charges are comparable to what we paid in the US, including international long distance. The hi-speed internet is handled like a prepaid phone card. You purchase the card and then you have hi-speed for the next month, or 3 months if that's how much you purchase, etc. The cost is roughly the same as the US. It's a tad inconvenient, especially when the time limit expires on you, but I guess people here are used to it that way. I don’t believe we have any more monthly expenses than those.
Tata has a full-time live in maid from Indonesia and her monthly salary is 600 Riyals, which is about $225 US. She gets her tiny quarters plus all her meals, but she works every day from early morning until night without ever having any days off. She was hired on a two year contract, which can be renewed. One of my sisters-in-law has two maids. One gets the same salary as Tata’s maid, and the other gets 800 Riyals ($300 US). Domestic help here is very cheap and is always performed by foreigners from poor countries, as well as hard labor and most service jobs.
Of course you can go to the big fancy malls and fancy restaurants and spend as much money as you want, as you can do anywhere, but so far my impression is that overall the cost of living here in Arabia is much cheaper than in the States.
Islam & Me - When in Rome...
Let me just start off by saying that the intent of this post is not to offend anyone or any religion. The opinions expressed here are solely my personal feelings and beliefs and I realize many people out there will not agree with what I have to say, but I hope you will agree that I have the right to my own convictions. I am comfortable with how I feel about this whole religion thing, but again, this is not intended to annoy or provoke, and if it does, I apologize in advance. Plus, I do not profess to be an expert in Islam (or any other religion), so what I am speaking of in this post are merely my own observations. If I get something technically wrong, again I apologize.
Shortly after I arrived in Arabia, I began participating in the prayers with Adnan and Adam, and other members of the family when we happen to be together at prayer time. This has greatly pleased Adnan and his mom and his extended family. It means a great deal to them. I do feel like I am only going through the motions since I do not know the prayers and don't know that much about Islam, but I must admit I do rather enjoy the physical movements associated with the prayers. In some ways it reminds me of Yoga, practically the only form of exercise I have ever enjoyed besides swimming, softball, biking, and tennis, and it's been so long since I have actually participated in those sports, that the praying movements actually feel good. During the first prayer of my day, usually my knees and ankles are pretty stiff when we kneel on the floor, but by the end of the day, I find that I am much more limber. And I have noticed that any back pains I might be experiencing seem to be alleviated when I am in the prostrating position, as I consciously try to relax my back at that time. As a result, I have very little back pain now and if I do, it is gone after prayer! This is good!
Muslims are called to prayer five times a day over loudspeakers from the minaret towers of each and every mosque in the city. No matter where you are, you can hear the calls to prayer broadcast from the minarets of several nearby mosques. There are mosques every few blocks or so, several in each neighborhood, in every direction. From our house, we can hear at least 5 different “muezzins” singing the calls to prayer. The closest and LOUDEST one is a very low voice that sounds like he’s using a kazoo, with a deep bassoon or viola sound. I think it’s the loudspeakers that make him sound that way. However the fact that he sounds like he is pressing his whole mouth upon the microphone probably doesn't help. I hate to say this and I don't mean any disrespect, but this guy sounds like a cow mooing. Dare I say, it’s a little obnoxious sounding? Another’s voice is much more pleasant sounding, very melodical. A more distant one sounds like a buzzing bee and another almost sounds like a mosquito flying around your head. Many of the muezzin’s voices sound like various musical instruments, almost like an orchestra of dischord, and since they are not in unison, it is fascinating to hear.
The prayer times are roughly at about 6am, 12 noon, 3:30pm, 6pm and 7:30pm. I don't always make it up for the early morning prayer, but the other four prayers, I do regularly. Sometimes Adnan, wearing his white thobe and his little white cap called a “kufiya,” walks down to the closest neighborhood mosque just a couple of blocks away to perform the prayers there. Every Friday, all the men are required to go to the mosque for the noon prayer and a service, which is broadcast over the loud speakers as well, so the women at home can hear it, I guess.
The first call to prayer alerts you to ready yourself for prayer. There is about a 30 minute window of time that you have when you can do the prayer. You must perform “wudu” or ablution, which is to wash up. This is a ritual cleansing, done only with water. There is a very specific method to this. You must wash your hands 3 times, your face, mouth, nostrils, and ears, and also splash some water on your hair. There is a particular order and method that you must use also. You also must wash your arms up to the elbows. And lastly, the feet must be rinsed off as well. Oh, and right nostrils, right ears, right arms and feet must be washed first, before the left ones. Adnan is always telling me that "Muslims are people of the right." Along this line, left handers are required to eat with their right hands. This is because when you clean yourself after using the toilet, it must always be done with the left hand, therefore eating and drinking are always done with the right hand. So for sanitary reasons, this makes sense. I bet many Westerners weren't aware of this. Actually the Koran is a practical guidebook to every day living, with guidelines covering just about every situation and aspect of daily life, from eating, to sex, to money matters, to raising children, to business dealings, etc.
About 15 minutes after you hear the first call to prayer, there is another call to prayer when the prayer itself is actually broadcast. You don’t have to wait for this 2nd broadcast if you have performed wudu and are ready to pray. Praying too has a very specific method, including standing with your right hand over your left, bowing, kneeling, sitting, and prostration, or bowing down with your head to the floor. And your eyes must be open - something a little hard for me to get used to since I have always prayed with my eyes closed my whole life.
I personally have never been a big fan of the rituals of religion, but I am coping with all of this and feel that it is a small sacrifice for me to make to please my husband and his family. The entire ritual of washing up and praying actually takes maybe ten minutes altogether tops. To pray, men must be dressed modestly; short sleeves are acceptable, and they must be covered to below the knee. It is not necessary for men to cover their heads with a cap or scarf, although many men do.
Women are another story ... they must be totally covered up with only the face and hands exposed. Adnan’s mom Tata gave me a “sharshaf,” a loosely fitting hooded one piece covering that all the women wear at home for prayers. It literally covers me from head to toe, with a small opening for my face and elastic at the wrists. The fabric is a lightweight cotton, and it can be any color and many that I have seen are in a tiny floral print. It is so ample that it fits over anything I might be wearing. I feel kinda like the Pillsbury Dough Boy when I wear it! Women have to be totally covered for prayers and for going out in public, but men don’t – and I must say that I still have a little problem with that. Women here have accepted it, were brought up this way, and most don’t even seem to care to question it. To them, it is natural, just a fact of life. In fact, the women cover up proudly to save their physical attributes only for their husbands. From what I have read and learned, the Koran doesn’t specifically say that women must cover up like this all the time, but instead the Koran says that both men and women should merely dress modestly. The problem seems to be that mortal men have done their own interpreting of the Koran, so it looks to me like they apply it more loosely to men than for women.
Adnan says that the reason women's skin and hair must be covered during prayer and when in the presence of other men is that it is too sexy and distracting for men. I told him that I find his hair and skin sexy, so maybe he should cover up too! He says that I cannot change what Muslims have done for centuries, so I am resigned to the fact that mine is a losing battle. I do hope that one day I will come to understand and accept this aspect of the religion that I see as an unfair inconsistency. The covering of the hair thing really bothers me. Now mind you, it's not just the hair, but the entire SEXY neck that must be covered up as well. I think having to cover my neck is the most uncomfortable thing about it for me. For almost 56 years, I went through my life, hair uncovered, blowing freely in the wind, tossing my head this way and that if I chose to do so. It was okay for Adnan’s brother Adel to see my hair and skin when he visited America, but here in Arabia, it is not allowed. Also I now cannot hug or kiss his brother on the cheek (or any man for that matter) when we are saying hello or goodbye. It is difficult for me to follow this as I am a touchy feely person, but I am trying my best.
Allow me to say at this point - and I don't mean to rattle any cages here - that I do not necessarily believe that I must pray 5 times daily at certain times in order to buy myself a pass to heaven. And I also do not believe that I must be covered up from head to toe in order to pray either. I believe that my god listens to me whenever and wherever I choose to speak to him (or her!) regardless of what I am wearing. In years past, some of my best conversations with God that I can recall took place when I was home alone, stark naked in a nice warm bubble bath! This is, after all, how we all came into this world with God's blessings. Ok, maybe not the bubbles part.
I am here because I belong at my husband’s side and I want to make him happy. This alone brings me happiness and peace. I am by no means miserable or upset by performing these Islamic rituals. I just find certain aspects of it difficult to understand – the reasoning seems one-sided and doesn’t make sense to me, that’s all. And I have never been one to just accept things blindly or to not question things I don't quite undertstand or agree with. Maybe one day, it will make more sense to me. Insha’allah. (That means - "God willing" and people here say it about a jillion times a day). When Adnan told me before I came to this country that things would be easier for me if I had the certificate saying I was a Muslim, I had no idea what he really meant by that. Apart from easing my ability to obtain my visa to enter the country, I now see how happy it has made his family - and I think this really is what he was really referring to as far as it making things easier for me. I am learning more about the religion - and I still don't agree with or believe everything I have heard - but knowing that the effort I am putting forth is making my husband and his family happy is worth it to me.
Having been raised a Christian, I must admit I got a little sentimental and sad as Christmas came and went. Being so far away from my family isn't easy, especially around the holidays. But my husband was sensitive to my mood and we spent a very pleasant Christmas day with his family, eating, playing cards, and then several of us went to downtown Jeddah that evening and it was amazing. Downtown Jeddah is a beehive of activity at night. It is hoppin’! There are street vendors much like you see in New York City. There are huge department stores and malls and hundreds of smaller shops teeming with activity. And the traffic – ah! the traffic. Anyway, my son Adam and I had a really good day, even if it was nothing like our Christmasses past.
Ever since I was a kid, religion has been a very personal thing to me. I attended church and Sunday school regularly, sang in the choir, even went to church camp in the summer. I grew up with close friends who were Catholic and Mormon. My mom had no problem with me accompanying my friends to their churches. I think because of that, I am very open-minded about religion, but I don't necessarily believe that any one religion is the right one for me. I just don't completely buy into everything that many religions teach and believe. I never could understand, for example, why my Catholic friends had to confess their sins to a middle man and then be directed to do 7 Hail Marys to wipe their slates clean when I have just always believed that I have an open direct line to my own very forgiving god 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
Yes, I believe in a higher being and that there are unexplainable miracles that can and do happen. But I truly believe that most religions are basically the same and have very minute differences. We all know that there are many hypocrites and extremists out there who claim to be "religious" and do all kinds of immoral things. So, I have come to believe that my faith and spirituality are between me and my god, and I don't have to prove anything to anybody else. I do not feel incomplete or lacking in some aspect of my life. I believe what I believe. It's as simple as that.
Reassembly
Cultural immersion. That's what we signed up for upon returning to the U.S. Within 48 hours of returning, we'd met our new landlords, rented a U-Haul, moved everything out of storage and into our apartment, and signed the purchase contract on a new car.
Naturally, the first few days of being back were satisfying. Too tired and preoccupied to think about much of anything, we focused on getting ourselves moved, again.
Our little American bubble happily accommodated us until Sunday morning, when we found ourselves in a ridiculous argument while trying to stuff an over-sized box into our rental car. Later, we both confessed that we'd each woken up that morning and realized that we didn't actually want to be back.
Frustration and sadness were somewhat mitigated by a massive family event later on that afternoon.
Monday, we finally buckled down and began painting and fixing up our new apartment. The rent is cheap and the landlords couldn't be more accommodating, but the place needs a lot of work. Normally fix-it projects are pleasurable, but this time around there is an ample sense of desperation on both our parts; completion of this tiresome transitional stage is hugely desirable. We can't sleep in our apartment yet - something I am indescribably anxious to do.
Independence. We've traded in the sense of challenge and excitement that inevitably came from living in Turkey for it.
The new car took me back to NH this evening. Fantastic. Phenomenally exciting. I forgot how thrilling it is to drive myself about - most notably at high speeds. Not that I have a lead foot or anything.
Ben is away, rowing a canoe, celebrating the upcoming marriage of our good friends. Strange to be separated after so many months of having little other than each other's company.
Things I'm really struggling with: friendliness; openness; conversation; pleasantries; eye contact. I think all those months living under the watchful and frequently unabashedly chauvinistic eyes of men has left me bitter, cold, and suspicious. I almost yelled at someone today - a checkout guy at Home Depot who couldn't handle the serious look on my face as I checked out. He made a host of comments and assumptions he'd never make if I was a guy and I left fuming and almost frustrated that the language barrier was down. THERE ARE SO MANY SHI#!Y THINGS YOU GET TO MISS WHEN YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING. Of course, there's a positive way to look at that too, but I'm so depressed that I can't swallow it.
The news here really stinks. No wonder Americans are so hated abroad. Ignorance. We have so much influence over what happens in the world, but 99.9% of us float around between work, families, shopping, mowing lawns, driving cars, eating fast food, and never pay attention to any of it.
TV is shocking. Nasty entertainment shows, celebrity talk shows, celebrity interviews, every other channel is about sex or violence. Not entirely unique to the U.S., but it's so much more disturbing when I can completely understand what people are saying.
It's very strange to feel so at home somewhere and yet so uncomfortable.
I'm having a hard time reintegrating with friends. I owe so many phone calls and emails, visits too, and yet I can't think about it. I'm not ready.
I keep thinking that once I'm unpacked and living in MA it will all make more sense and feel right. I hope it's true because my brain is tired and a huge part of me is completely ready to go back.
Images of Istanbul
Feline housing, Firuzağa, İstanbul.
Ready to Conquer
Their trip to İstanbul could hardly have been more successful. From touring the Taksim and Tünel areas including Galata Tower and the surrounding district, to watching the Dervishes whirl at Mevlevi Monastery, to visiting every major historic site in Sultanahmet, to ferrying over to the Asian side for a walking tour of residential areas, to enjoying a late night of fasıl music with Nihal Arda at Kebap House in Taksim, to traveling to Eyüp to view the most significant mosque and religious site in all of Turkey, to metroing to Kanyon on the European side for a taste of high-end İstanbul, to riding a boat all the way up to the base of the Black Sea to explore the tiny town of Anadolu Kavağı, they covered all the most crucial bases in their short time here. From feet to ferries, to taxis, trams, and the underground metro, their modes of transportation were diverse. The weather was perfect and as they arrived ready to conquer, the entire trip was as meaningful as it was pleasurable, from start to finish. Below, are pics from the highlights of their tour.
Inside the harem at Topkapı Palace:
A view from Hagia Sophia:
Galata Köprüsü
They're here! Here's a pic from one of our stops today. More later when I'm not so deliriously happy!
Kurban Bayramı
We spent the first half of New Year's Eve exploring Sultanahmet and the surrounding area. Sultanahmet is what constitutes "Old İstanbul" and there is no shortage of palaces, mosques, bazaars and interesting cafes to explore. We'd been over there several times before, but hadn't officially toured the juiciest of the tourist sites yet. Given the size of this city and the respective histories of it many neighborhoods, the contrast between Galatasaray, Taksim, and Tünel - the areas nearest us, and Sultanahmet is significant. As Old İstanbul is decidedly more touristy, the streets are well maintained, the buildings are more likely to have a fresh coat of paint on them, and the cafes are almost all guaranteed to have menus in English.
In any case, there are lots of pictures below of the areas we explored, as well as some relevant historical details. A particularly memorable part of the day was no doubt The Kybele Cafe where we stopped for drinks before heading back over to our neighborhood for the actual New Year's Eve celebrations. Kybele's ceiling is adorned with over 2,000 antique lamps - we stayed there for nearly three hours enjoying the view. (click on the pics for a better view)
Below: A view from inside the Cistern (the water you see is full of plump, old fish who've had the great fortune of having no predators for many, many years...) as well as a pic of one of the two Medusa heads that are squished under the weight of the Cistern's enormous columns. No one knows where the heads came from, or why they were placed inside the Cistern's watery cavern. Strange to imagine them fully submerged for so many years, keeping the company of all the water the people here drank.
Finally, later on that night we went out to an awesome traditional Turkish meal in Tünel. The place we ate at was two story, very small restaurant, full of intoxicated patrons singing along to the excellent fasıl music which lured us in from the street. The restaurant lights appropriately turned off at midnight, the New Year's hats went on, and the celebrations were loud and completely full of drunken laughter, traditional dancing, and rakı drinking. All in all, every component of New Year's Eve was perfect.
hmnn. christmas eve in turkey????????
Not surprisingly, we are experiencing an entirely uneventful Christmas Eve here in Istanbul. We spent the better part of the day planning tomorrow's celebratory dinner as Sendi will be joining us. A trip to the grocery store was met with the comedic shock of discovering Christmas balls, lights, and miscellaneous decorations (already in a state of disrepair) on display. I think we both found ourselves wondering just who, aside from us, would buy them?
Below, please find our best holiday efforts thus including, a now seriously seasonally appropriate dracaena marginata/fire hazard and chestnuts roasting on...our burner.
After several weeks of eager anticipation, we finally met Nihal Arda, the well-known Turkish fasıl singer who is also the mother of our good friend Serkan. We met Nihal at the extremely traditional, and in that regard, completely phenomenal Turkish kebap house that she currently sings at in Taksim. I won’t lie – we were very nervous when we first arrived. The kebap house certainly has no real equivalent in the U.S. and the one we went to, as we learned from our friends here, is entirely authentic. It serves as a cavernous but warm, dimly-lit, smoky place to feast on multiple courses of sublime food while listening to music best described as
intensely emotional, completely distinct, and seemingly otherworldly. A sizable group of musicians and singers were perched on the stage playing for all of the house’s patrons who were singing along. Nihal joined us only minutes after we arrived. Beautiful, welcoming, and incredibly generous, she made a tremendous impression. When she took the stage for the remainder of the night shortly thereafter, she floored the house – and Ben and me. We stayed until 2:30 in the morning, enjoying what was certainly our most intense and pleasurable cultural experience here. We’ll take all of you who come visit us to see and hear for yourselves. Below, are pics of the kebap house and Nihal.
Saturday night was just seriously funny. Yasemin and Gunseli got extra tickets so that we could join them for the international blues festival in Istanbul. I rather like fasıl music more than the blues, which I concede is probably very strange, but we both had a great night. The highlight of the night no doubt came when we were leaving - as a treat for all the concertgoers, the event sponsors passed out tiny fully-functional harmonicas. We left in a sea of thousands of Turks, all simultaneously blowing into the mini instruments.
Sunday we paid a visit to Galata Tower, our neighborhood tourist attraction, which was built in 1348. There are some pics of the view from there below:
Monday served to remind us that despite our relative comfort here, we’re still not locals. In the course of shopping for a dinner with Yasemin and Gunseli, we encountered countless language barrier-related obstacles. It’s hard to plan for dinner when you’re looking for very specific spices and foodstuffs here. It all worked out in the end, but not without a last minute run (literally) to the grocery store and an enormous delay putting food on the table. Onika, I know you’d appreciate this - there is no soft brown sugar here, no finely granulated sugar...leavening agents exist, but who knows what they’re called. It’s funny, but sometimes also quite trying. On a somewhat related note, below, is a pic of the fish market five minutes from our apartment:
Today, we started our long-awaited Turkish classes. Four hours of intensive communicative Turkish...about 100 new vocab words...and homework. Haha. Now that’s amusing to write. We both feel it will benefit us tremendously, but it is strange to be back in class.
Finally, here is a daytime pic of Istiklal Caddesi - this is a one minute walk from our apartment.
the view from where we are
Saturday was quite possibly one of my favorite days here yet. After spending a good bit of time relaxing in our new flat, we headed out to the fresh fish and produce bazaars on the side streets of Istiklal. Increasingly confident in our own abilities, we decided to conquer the less touristy, more intimidating, local food markets. We’d actually passed through the bazaar once before – only a few days after we arrived in the city. The focus then was making it through the maze of fish, poultry, animal parts, vegetables, fruit, herbs, cheese, mushrooms, spices, teas, yogurts, pickles, pastries, breads, cooking equipment, and shouting vendors, relatively unscathed. That’s infinitely easier said than done in these parts, where passing through a single ten foot section means being lured in and yelled at from every direction. Your shoes stick to the fish-juice-soaked cobblestone alleys, scrawny cats in all shapes and sizes bolt between your feet, chickens cluck from cages, ducks pace back in forth in mindless activity, vendors tug on your sleeves and shout “buyurun” (can I help you????) in your face, and the amalgamation of enticing and nauseating smells turns your already shaky foreign self into a confused, vulnerable mess – albeit, in an incredibly good way. This time we worked our way through the market in total awe, bargaining for and buying the most incredible and cheap fresh goods imaginable. We floated home and prepared dinner for Gunseli and Yasemin who were visiting our temporary dig for the first time. The night was awesome; all I could think about is how lucky we are to have befriended them.
Today, we got up super early and had our first breakfast out - alone. It too was a success, though we learned a valuable lesson. At this point, our comfort level here is high enough that we are moving into the local areas for food and everything else. Consequently, a recommendation from Lonely Planet on where to eat resulted in a comparatively dull experience - we arrived and found ourselves surrounded by people like us. The highlight, however, was the café’s cat, which stationed itself on a ottoman near a table to monitor incoming patrons.
From there we popped on the Tünel and headed down to Karaköy, the nearest place to catch a ferry over to the Asian side. We used Dilko’s job offer as an excuse to check out an area we hadn’t been to – it’s beautiful and the ferry ride to another continent makes for a seriously unusual commute. Here are some pics from the ride over:
the haydarpasa ferry stop
In between all this activity, we are also learning a lot about what we don’t understand. As mentioned before, our temporary apartment is off of an alley shared by the police station and all the miscellaneous cats and rocks in Istanbul. Unfortunately, the alley lacks street lights, so when you walk up it at night, your first reaction is invariably to break out into a run. Our long term apartment is on a street with many bright lights, as much traffic, and half of the beautiful old buildings that line it are occupied but, the other half aren’t. In this regard, there is no way to get to it without passing through a street or corner that you’d rather not. I suppose all cities are like that, but that leads me to my main point: after spending so much time assessing the safety of our little area, the thing I keep re-realizing is that as a foreigner who understands almost none of the local language, it’s impossible for me to make an accurate assessment of what is and is not safe. Until I understand what people are saying, I will see this entire place through a strange, inherently uncomfortable lens. To be certain, it’s rarely a lens that I am actually conscious of, but when I try to interpret what I see and feel, I realize that I am not sure if it bothers me because it’s actually bothersome, or because I just don’t get it. I walk down the street and there are people standing in front of and around shops and doorways talking late at night. You’d find the same scenes anywhere in the U.S. at night – but when you feel uncomfortable there, it’s because you are processing the language you hear and the culture you understand a particular way. Here, it’s hard to know what the actual source of the discomfort is: my un-indoctrinated brain, or reality. It’s certainly fun to chew on.
To that end and in super news...Ben and I enrolled in a four week long intensive beginner Turkish class today. It begins next Tuesday and we can hardly wait.
a view from the bosphorus
(thanks gunseli for the pic!)
our temporary flat...perfectly comfy,
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Miscellaneous World Travels
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Skopje, Macedonia
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Lake Ohrid, Macedonia & Albania
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Tirana, Albania
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Read the label, Albania & Tirana, Albania
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The spacepod shower in Prishtina, Kosovo
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Kosovo
So we've arrived in Kosovo. Our trip here was pleasantly uneventful. We caught the first bus from Skopje this morning and found ourselves the only foreigners on it. The distance from Skopje to the border was minimal. Before we knew it, we were going through Macedonian and UN checkpoints. We were singled out for additional information and eventually received UN stamps. Everyone was friendly. Really, not much to report.
Kosovo is certainly one of the most interesting and surprising places I've visited. Interesting beyond the obvious. It's full of UN personnel which makes for a strange surface culture. Prishtina is relatively far north in the territory so we saw a significant amount of Kosovo on our way. What we saw was generally more developed and less rugged than much of what we've seen in BiH and Macedonia. Of course, those were just surface impressions. Still, we've seen a lot at this point, and we were impressed by the level of infrastructure and the number of new homes and buildings being built. The major road to Prishtina has an incredible number of car dealerships and fancy petrol stations. Foreign money from personnel in the region no doubt largely drive these developments.
The surrounding landscape is beautiful. Enormous green mountains make up the landscape. Lots of fields and crops as well.
Prishtina is much more than we expected it to be. Other travelers' accounts of the city left us expecting a wasteland of UN offices, bars, and concrete apartment buildings. The city is actually rather attractive. Well-kept on the surface, bustling with activity, cafes and restaurants on every corner. We've already had an excellent time exploring. Walking around for hours does take a good bit of the sheen off. Aside from said ambulation, the only other activity to engage in is dining. We both seem to be good at both of these activities, so that's alright. There are no tourists here. None. But, there are an enormous number of English speakers about - not surprising considering the number of foreign workers in the city.
I'm so unbelievably glad we made it here.
One additional funny story. Our hotel is fascinating. Very nice actually. Generally modest, but equipped with strange embellishments in the most unexpected forms. The bathroom comes with neatly packaged toothbrushes and toothpaste, for example. The shower is actually something close to a space pod. It's a silver plastic rectangle with bright blue lights and a radio inside. Of course, I will post pics of it when we return.
Speaking of returning, I cannot believe this entire experience will be over next Wednesday.
Bulgaria & Macedonia
And...I'm back. Actually, my current posting position is comical. I'm sitting in a "luxury" hotel flat in Skopje, Macedonia. Emphasis on the quotation marks. I've got a connected computer in my room (crazy) along with a desk, but the most vital ingredient is hugely absent: air conditioning - or a ceiling fan for that matter. It's hot here. I mean hot. Macedonia is on fire. Really. Foreign aid is pouring in as the country has been up in flames for days.
This is my first shot at internet since before we left Istanbul last Friday morning. I'm glad for it as we've had a lot of interesting experiences that have made me wish I could post. Not sure how well I can recount any of it now, but here goes.
Last Friday we took a series of buses from Istanbul to Plovdiv, Bulgaria. Save for our drivers' activities, namely smuggling four mammoth garbage bags of dress shirts and leopard print boxers over the border (we watched the covert payment process...the subsequent highway pullover to stuff them in the compartments above the tires, behind the driver seat, under the front flooring...), our trip from Turkey to Bulgaria was uneventful.
The landscape changes little between the two countries, though agricultural Bulgaria is dominated by sunflower crops and shirtless farmers riding about on noticeably newer farming equipment.
When we arrived in Plovdiv, my initial impression was not entirely warm and tingly. The outer cityscape is dominated by the hugely unattractive concrete buildings we've come to expect from much of Eastern Europe. Once we made our way on foot from the bus station to the center of town, however, the place changed completely: cobbled, ornate, historic, and generally beautiful. As it turns out, much of the center of the city (and it is Bulgaria's second largest) is incredibly beautiful - somewhere between Geneva for its hilly, cobbled, picturesque streets, and Vienna for its ample parks packed between all the cafes and old buildings.
We spent two nights and a day and a half exploring the town. Highlights: A) The Roman amphitheater. It sat inside a huge hill in the center of town until a landslide in 1972 exposed it to the modern world. It was incredible, nearly perfectly preserved. B) Bachkovo Monastery in the village of Bachkovo, about 30km south of Plovdiv. Attractive. C) The Turkish wedding celebrations that we passed through as we snooped about the streets in the outskirts of Plovdiv Saturday night. Not surprisingly, there is a strong and fascinating Turkish immigrant community in Plovdiv. The music and dancing were fantastic.
Sunday we caught a bus to Veliko Tarnovo - by far one of the most beautiful towns I've been to anywhere in Europe. While our trip to Veliko was a bit trying (think tiny bus/van thing with no AC, barrelling through the countryside and over the mountains, completely crammed full of roasting natives singing along to American hits that we've all since happily forgotten), any feelings of weariness were completely displaced by the immediate sense of amazement that overtook us both when we finally arrived. Phenomenal. The whole city was built up on the side of a gorge. Historic houses. Completely quiet and beautiful streets (a perk of traveling in Eastern Europe: it's all borderline uninhabited). Crazy views of the surrounding mountains. Equipped with an impressive fortress: Tsarevets. Awesome. We stayed an extra day and night in an effort to take it all in.
Yesterday was another day of tiresome travel. We got up early, caught a four and a half hour bus to Sofia then immediately popped on another bus to where we are now - Skopje. That ride was just under six hours and again, it was HOT. The bus was...classic. Easily thirty years old. Smartly (hmn) outfitted with green, scratchy upholstery reminiscent of AstroTurf. Squeaky brakes. Green curtains. Green ceilings. Bright blue overhead lights. Macedonian music. Reckless driving. Fabulous.
When we arrived at the border, Bulgarian authorities nearly deconstructed our bus in an effort to find something interesting. Nothing turned up. Flashlights. Jumbo screwdrivers. Tapping, probing, peering.
The most interesting part of the ride came in the first hour of driving after we'd passed through customs and immigration at the Macedonian border (which was situated atop a mountain). The landscape on the other side changed drastically. The trees shrank and became considerably younger. The vegetation was dense. The entire scene was not dissimilar to the Adirondacks...small, rounded lumpy mountains were everywhere in sight. Between them stretched sloping fields dotted with small round trees and shrubs and yellow, toasted grass. The sun was setting and the air, which was full of smoke from the surrounding brush fires, glowed pink and red. It was stunning and unexpected. As the trees weren't tall, and the houses were only a bit shorter than them, and the crops (grapes and corn) were only a bit shorter than the houses, the whole place was visually mesmerizing.
We arrived in Skopje a few hours later and found ourselves in yet another classic Eastern European city. Concrete! The buildings here come straight from the abysmal architectural archives of the communist era. That written, the city has a strange and persuasive appeal to it. We've stayed an extra night to make sure we cover the most crucial bases and admittedly, we both have really enjoyed our time here. Additionally, as there is a huge Turkish population in Macedonia, we've already had ample opportunity to use our Turkish - a very significant perk. The people we've encountered have been unimposing and a bit shy, but hugely kind. Additionally, compared to attempting to decipher Arabic, Cyrillic seems completely manageable.
Hmn. There is so much more to write. Hopefully, we'll have internet at our next stopping point: Kosovo. We head there early tomorrow morning and, assuming we successfully pass through the UN-controlled border, we'll spend a night in Prishtina. From there, we don't know. Perhaps back into Macedonia - and then into Albania. The only goal is to allocate enough time to make our way back to Turkey by land.
Separation anxiety...
left us unwilling to travel this week - until today, that is. We've finally made a move to start the trip to Eastern Europe that we've been planning for the last several months. Our itinerary, however, is nothing like what we'd originally planned and the details of half of our trip are still a mystery.
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Tomorrow, we'll take a ridiculously long bus ride (10 hours) to Plovdiv, Bulgaria. We'll spend two nights there and then head to Sofia...two nights there, then probably (but not definitely) to Belgrade, then to Kosovo (?), then to somewhere in Albania (?), then to Skopje, Macedonia, then home.
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We scrapped our old itinerary when we both realized that: a) we weren't ready to leave Turkey; b) the places we'd planned to go to are more touristy than we seem to now prefer (think summertime in Hungary and Croatia); and c) we should probably save some money for our upcoming move. Yawn.
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Anyway, this is a terribly written entry to let you all know that we have 1/2 of our act together and we're heading off tomorrow.
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And then finally...
Before I forget them, here are a few more thoughts from the last two weeks of travel that I've been meaning to share. I'm low on time, so here they are in the shortest form possible (sorry).
1) We met an excellent character from the UK on the Eugenie. His name was Leon. He was in his mid-fifties and had moved to Luxor five years earlier after abandoning the drudgery of his life back home. He had a lot of interesting stories. The funniest/saddest being about the preponderance of middle-aged, divorced British women, who move to Luxor in search of an exotic new life - and a sexy, young Egyptian boyfriend. Apparently, there is a huge population of these women living in Egypt. As Leon understands it, they're drawn to the attention-lathering local boys who flatter them incessantly and delightfully - until they suddenly find themselves single again, and strangely broke.
According to Leon, local expats have a shared expression regarding these ladies' collective mentality: "Not my Muhamed!" It's as crushing as it is pitiful. It's also not too hard to understand. As mentioned before, the Egyptians have attractiveness completely nailed down and divorced Western women (particularly from the nearby UK) have plenty of money with which to lather up their sexy new toys. Most Egyptian women are not allowed out of the house outside the company of a male, so the openness of Western women has got to be extremely fascinating - until these often conservative males also realize that they come with a boatload of opinions and ambitions that they unabashedly vocalize.)
2) One more on the heat: after a day of seeing the sites in 50 C, I came back to the boat and headed for the shower. Taking out my hairpins (of which there were a great deal - maybe 10), I found that all the paint on them had melted off. My hair came down around my face, along with a showering of paint chips.
3) Traveling through Cairo during the day is a visual challenge. On the surface, it's a sophisticated, cosmopolitan city with complex, well-maintained infrastructure and modern, Islamic architecture. It's enormous - home to an estimated 20 million people (though a constant influx of refugees from Iraq, Sudan, and the Palestinian territories complicates population estimation). Outside of the immediate downtown area, streets and buildings often tend toward ruin. In contrast to highly affluent cities where all available surfaces are paved, landscaped, and developed, the quantity of sand on the ground is bewildering. There is nothing aside from shape, to distinguish the mudbrick houses that dominate the landscape from the ground they sit sit on.
4) Interestingly, we were accompanied by armed guards during the vast majority of our excursions. While we'd previously been taken aback by the number of machine gun carrying police in Turkey, Egypt's security forces are infinitely more abundant. Traveling via road between cities and historic sites, we stopped at countless security barricades and were amazed by the number of roads and districts entirely blocked off to foreigners. As severe and uncomfortable as that may seem, it wasn't particularly disturbing. My impression is that the system has been in place since the mid-1990s and is presently and primarily used as a source of employment. In that regard, we felt safer in Egypt than we do in Turkey. Interestingly when Ms.M visited, she shared the same sentiment.
5) To that end, I find things like this infinitely more frustrating, than helpful. I realize that terrorism is particularly problematic in certain places in the world. Of course, I find that disturbing. When I wish to acquire some information about health/safety and potentially unique problems in a country I intend to travel to, however, I don't want a laundry list of all the terrorism-related things that have happened in the past - at least not BEFORE I read about the most likely problems I'll have - like involvement in a traffic accident due to abysmal traffic regulations, and say, sickness caused by improperly filtered water. The longer I live away from the U.S., and more generally Western culture, the more this mentality irritates me. Shouldn't travel warnings be offered up in order of likelihood and relevance to travelers? Does anyone else find these attitudes destructive and obnoxious? (Should there be travel warnings for NYC, for example, offering up the details of 9/11 and informing tourists it's likely unsafe to visit as a result?) Admittedly, I have nothing much to say about these issues. I do, however, find them incredibly frustrating.
6) I've learned a lot about Islamic culture as it impacts women (and their fashion) in the last eight months. From the varieties of scarves and materials women use to cover themselves, to the differing ways they wrap them, there are a lot of differences from city to city and country to country. Often times, head wraps and scarves are phenomenally intricate and beautiful, with fine fabrics, bright colors, sequins, and complex embroidery. These embellishments often render modest coverings exotic and highly feminine. I've also learned that their color, material, and style is often highly reflective of particular views, marital status and so on.
I have a hard time grappling with the fact that women in conservative societies generally remain uneducated and confined to their homes. I try to be as politically correct and respectful as possible on this blog, but sometimes it's hard. Walking down the street seeing women completely concealed by cloth (in shocking heat no less), looking down to the ground, and not infrequently displaying signs of domestic abuse around their eyes, I feel angry and profoundly sad. I see the nearly disappeared shapes of their bodies and then look to mine and wonder what it would be like to be nearly anonymous to the outside world. Sometimes I catch a girl or woman looking at me, and there's a moment of honesty between the two of us as we look at each other. It's hard to explain, but the feeling reminds me of our shared femininity, regardless of the barrier at the surface.
Traveling is crucial. Worth more than most forms of education. It's almost impossible to return from places with such vastly different cultural norms, and not feel a stronger appreciation for the still shared interests and needs of most people in the world.
Pics from Egypt
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Al-Deir Al-Bahari Temple, East Bank, Luxor; Karnak Temple, West Bank, Luxor
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Karnak...
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Karnak...
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Karnak; Luxor Temple, East Bank, Luxor
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Luxor Temple
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Temple of Hathor, Dendara (Note: check out Nut giving birth to the sun on the right.)
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Temple of Hathor; Temple of Horus, Edfu
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Aswan Botanical Garden, Kitchener Island, Aswan; View across the Nile from the Aswan Botanical Garden
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Miscellaneous modes of transportation
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Unfinished Obelisk, Aswan; High Dam, Aswan
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Philae Temple, Aswan
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Nubian village & home, Aswan
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Our lesson in Nubian and Arabic, courtesy of a local teacher; My boyfriend
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Boat ride over Lake Nasser to visit Wadi al-Sabua Temple (Note: check out our armed guard asleep with a cheek on the barrel of his gun.); the Temple of Dakka; Maharraqa Temple; Temple of Dakka, Wadi as-Sabua
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Fallen statue of Ramses II, Wadi al-Sabua; Temple of Wadi al-Sabua
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Great Temple of Ramses II, Wadi el-Sabua; Temple of Hathor, Wadi el-Sabua
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Enjoying a sheesha at the famous Fishawi's Coffeehouse & a backstreet, Islamic Cairo
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Step Pyramid, North Saqqara
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Great Pyramid of Khufu, Giza Plateau, Cairo (Note: tackiness aside, look at how small I am compared to the blocks I was standing in front of. The pyramid was constructed out of 2.3 million limestone blocks, weighing on average 2.5 tons each...)
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Islamic Cairo, the Pyramids, & Home Again
We've just returned home from Egypt. We enjoyed our time there immensely. I could have stayed on indefinitely.
Our exploration of Islamic Cairo on Tuesday was memorable. The markets and streets were: dusty beyond description; so packed full of people and carts that it was hard to get about, and; saturated with the smell of the finely ground spices that blow through the air and coat every surface of the place. It was a tiring delight. Not surprisingly, a lengthy stop for tea and a sheesha also worked its way into our itinerary.
As we left the market exhausted and disappointed that we'd finally arrived at our last night in Egypt, we consoled ourselves with a stop at El-Abd Bakery, the most famous patisserie in Cairo. El-Abd takes the cake (snicker), for being the most insane, busy, maddening, and rewarding bakery I've ever been to. It's open nearly all hours of the day and night and is frequented by masses of hungry locals in search of perfect configurations of sugar and fat. Once we'd wrestled our way into the place (hundreds of people surround it at night as it also serves up allegedly phenomenal ice cream...we never found the patience to wait in the lines that stretched out into the streets), we had to fight to: find a place to stand; select our treats; package our treats; pay for our treats, and; exit with our treats. It was incredible - and as it turns out, worth every bit of the effort. I bought enough Jordan almonds there (yup, my favorite candy) to maintain a steady sugar and nut night high until we return to the U.S. in August.
Today, we hired a driver and a guide to take us to the Pyramids of Giza, the Sphinx, Memphis, and Saqqara. The pyramids were so enormous and spectacular - a trip to them is one of the few hyped-up things in life that actually succeed in exceeding all expectations.
I'll upload pics and some more thoughts on our trip tomorrow.
The Eugenie
After another mini-cruise, another round of nonstop archaeological sightseeing, another bout of non-connectivity with the outside world, and another round of indescribable desert heat, we've made it back to Cairo.
We joined the M/S Eugenie on Friday and immediately discovered that we'd chosen wisely. The Eugenie is a small ship, one of only a handful permitted to sail on Lake Nasser (the enormous reservoir that resulted from the construction of Egypt's High Dam between 1958 and 1970). The Eugenie's turn-of-the-century steamer style made it an awesome structure to sail on.
(I will write, however, that our trip to the Eugenie from our hotel was initially, um, confusing. We were driven for about forty minutes through desert, abandoned granite quarries, and dilapidated, dusty villages. We thought our ride would be brief and along the waters of the Nile. As it turns out, the Port of Nasser is far away from Aswan, and we'd taken a very strange shortcut - on the other end of which also included about fifteen armed guards, car searches...)
The waters of Lake Nasser cross the Tropic of Cancer, extend deep into Sudan (where it's referred to as Lake Nubia), and render it the largest artificial lake in the world. To that end, as it's situated between the desert sands and mountains of both countries, a cruise over it allows for some absolutely crazy views of the natural landscape. Imagine sailing atop the calm, turquoise waters of an obscenely large and beautiful lake, while simultaneously viewing the sands of Egypt's deserts. The contrast is fantastic - in the truest sense of the word.
Over the weekend we toured: Kalabsha Temple; Beit El Wali; Kertassi; Wadi al-Subua Temple; the Temple of Dakka; Maharraqa Temple; the Tomb of Penout; Amada and Derr Temples; the Citadel of Kasr Ibrim, and; Abu Simbel. Abu Simbel was as extraordinary to view in person as the Taj Mahal. I'd try to describe what it felt like to be there, but there's no way I could even come close.
In terms of the more superficial stuff, it was interesting and entertaining to have a small taste of 'cruise culture.' Admittedly, neither of us are the loaf, eat, sleep, loaf, eat, sleep types, so the fact that the cruise was full of educational touring was crucial. Fortunately, it was also very, very small, so our experience was much more meaningful. As a huge percentage of Egypt's cities and historical sites are situated along the Nile, it's also interesting to be able to view and visit the majority of them via boat.
Finally, we also had two days of 50 C weather - that's 122 F...again, I seem to be running short on ways to describe these experiences. Heat like that takes human exhaustion to a whole new level. Moving, breathing, functioning - all become laborious. The sun on your skin feels like the heat of an oven when you reach inside to...check your cookies, without the perk of (presumably) delicious baked good on the other end. I found myself craving foods and drinks that I never normally desire. Juice, pasta, watermelon, juice, pasta, watermelon. As soon as I'd have a bite, however, it seemed my appetite had vanished. In any case, the heat itself made the experience memorable. Despite this description of it, a strange part of me actually enjoyed the challenge of tolerating it.
...more later. We're going out to explore Islamic Cairo.
Another posting from Aswan
Our hotel, Marhaba Palace, miraculously has internet. I'm in the front lobby sitting next to a man whose cologne is wafting over into my little station courtesy of the fan that's blowing hot air on both of us. Oooh, nice. He just complimented my henna tattoo, strategically position over much of my left hand.
We just visited the Nubia Museum. Excellent. It was another one of those well-planned museums that made me feel desperate to read every inscription and placard. I found myself taking notes on Nubian and Egyptian history as we passed through. (I'm comfortable with my inner nerd.)
The story of the evolution and eventual submersion of much of Nubia is a tremendously fascinating and sad one. I strongly recommend a little googling for those of you so inclined. Efforts to research, document, and save parts of Nubia before it was consumed by the waters of the Nile, revealed that it was a civilization ahead of its time. Until Nubian grain grinding stones were recovered in the 1960's, the commonly accepted belief was that the people of Levant were the first to pioneer this ingenious technique. As it turns out, Nubians were grinding grain 4,000 years before the people of Levant. Huge.
We're having such a phenomenal time here. The local culture is amazingly friendly. It's hard to go anywhere without someone walking up to us to say hello and welcome us to their country and city. Additionally, locals have a crazy sense of humor. Every guard, storekeeper, and tout comes equipped with a joke - often of the practical variety. The contrast between the merry atmosphere of this place and the somewhat downtrodden one we've come to expect in Turkey is mammoth. I keep reminding myself to smile and say hello as it helps us get around a bit easier here. In Turkey, I've taught myself to be closed and quiet - until otherwise greeted. I like the local attitudes that we've encountered. People give the impression of being willing to help and solve problems. When we were searching for a working internet cafe this morning, the owner of one sent a local boy to help us. When we can't find a place we're looking for, it seems there's always someone willing to help. It's impressive and it helps compensate for the considerable language barrier that we often face.
The landscape throughout the Nile region is equally interesting. The lower banks of both sides are green and fertile. Trees and crops abound. But directly above them are enormous banks of sand and rock, beyond which the deserts stretch. The breeze that travels throughout the cities we've visited comes from the deserts and it's so hot that keeping our eyes open is a chore. There's an enormous amount of poverty here. Regardless, the people are welcoming.
Oops. Gotta run!
Luxor, Edfu, Kom Ombo & Aswan, Egypt
Sorry to be absent for such a long time. We've only now found internet. To that end, I'm writing from an internet cafe that we found after following a little Egyptian kid through Aswan's dusty and chaotic streets for about twenty minutes. Included in our itinerary were several circles around the block. In any case, there is a lot to cover and I am so hot and spent that my mind is a wandering and thoughts are slow coming.
Our introduction to Egypt via Cairo last weekend was spectacular. After spending about twenty-four hours in the city, we headed to the airport to catch a flight to Luxor. We planned to spend one night there on our own and then meet our guide (and boat) on Sunday to begin our formal tours of the area, and then head south on the Nile.
When we landed in Luxor, we were met by a driver sent by our hotel, the Nour el-Gurna (I highly recommend it). The heat was phenomenal, but our driver was tremendous. Relaxed, funny, and more than willing to cart us around as it turns out, several more times that day.
When we arrived at the hotel, which we'd read in advance was a delightful, mudbrick, over-sized house, we were admittedly a bit confused. There was no signage on it, nothing to indicate what it was. We'd pulled up into a dusty parking lot situated in front of a small structure that was in turn, hidden beneath a long straw canopy and a grove of trees. A school sat next door and twenty or thirty little children were trampling about outside.
We were ushered to a table under the canopy and offered drinks and food. We could see a kitchen and nothing else. Had we arrived at the hotel? Or, had our driver first taken us to a cafe so that we could drink tea served by his friends (this, as it turns out, is a more Turkish,than Egyptian approach to hospitality/tourist exploitation).
About fifteen minutes later, our fears were forgotten as we were taken to our rooms. We walked out behind the kitchen and the school and up the steps of the little hotel. Mudbrick structures are fascinating. Cool, perpetually dusty, and dark. Our room had a small balcony, a tiny tiled bathroom (yes, tiled right on top of the mud), and a bed largely concealed by a huge mosquito net. It was completely endearing and certainly the most interesting room we've ever slept in. Additionally, considering the circumstances (namely that it was constructed out of dirt), it was very clean.
That night, we got a ride to the ferry station on our side of the Nile (West Bank) and cruised over to the East Bank to check out the town. When we returned much later that night the hotel manager, who was impossibly kind and bashful, prepared a feast of Egyptian food for us. Duck, chicken, fried eggplant, a mountain of rice, and masterfully baked bread. We returned to our room completely stuffed and only a little prepared to tackle the heat.
Our bed was so hot that it was uncomfortable to rest on. A metal bracelet I'd left on it burned when I picked it up. This was my first experience with heat so stifling that it makes surfaces in enclosed, shady rooms too hot to touch. (Another example of the heat - I brought a pair of flat black shoes - the same ones I wear everywhere - and quickly found that they conduct so much heat from the ground here that they burn the bottoms of my feet...they're now permanently tucked away in my suitcase - for this trip, that is.)
The next morning, we had a perfect local breakfast of soft cow's milk cheese, fig jam, fresh bread, and coffee.
Our tour guide had arrived two hours early, so after filling up on good food and cramming our clothing into our bags, we set off to explore the sites on our side of the Nile. Included in our itinerary for the morning were: three tombs in the the Valley of the Kings and Al-Deir Al-Bahari Temple. Later that day, we headed to Luxor Temple and Karnak Temple, both on the East Bank. In between, we checked into our boat, the Beau Soleil, which would later take us all the way to where we are now: Aswan.
The sites were incredible. Needless to say, the complexity of hieroglyphics, the massive size of the Egyptian temples, and the collective and readily apparent imagination and intelligence of the Egyptian people are awesome to view in person.
On Monday, we set out to explore the Mummification Museum and the Luxor Museum, that latter of which turned out to be one of the most well-planned and interesting museums I've ever been to. In between, we rode in a police convoy (about an hour and a half each way, not too far) to see Temple of Hathor, Dendera.
At the Temple of Hathor we were escorted around by a gun-wielding guard who took it upon himself to let us into the many locked and closed rooms in the upper sections of the temple. I think my mouth was open in complete awe the entire time. Really, just extraordinary. I cannot wait to post pictures of all these adventures when we return.
Late that night (Monday), our boat set sail to Edfu. There, we popped off for a couple of hours to see Edfu Temple of Horus. We then rejoined our cruise and set off again to Kom Ombo. Several hours later we arrived and headed out to see the Temple of Kom Ombo. By then it was evening, about 9:00pm. Touring the site in the absence of the sun was almost as inspiring as the temple itself.
Yesterday, I had one of my favorite travel days ever. We woke up early to see the High Dam, the Unfinished Obelisk at Aswan (we'd sailed to Aswan overnight), and Philae Temple. To get to Philae we rode a small boat to the island that the now relocated temple sits on. The temple was exceptionally beautiful, encapsulated by the Nile, and set before the the old dam built by the Brits at the turn of the twentieth century.
Later on that day, we headed off on another small boat to the Aswan Botanical Garden on Kitchener Island (again, brilliant). From there, we headed further south on the Nile to a Nubian village sandwiched between the Western Desert and the Nile. There, we rode camels through the valley, explored the local community, and sipped tea in a traditional Nubian-style home (that also housed a considerable number of baby crocodiles...) where our hostess also administered henna tattoos. Finally, we toured the local schoolhouse where one of the teachers also gave us a lesson in both Arabic and Nubian alphabets and numbers. (I have pictures of this as well, we were all laughing so hard it was ridiculous). Most importantly, as we passed through the village, I managed to collect a new, eager boyfriend: a ten year old boy who snatched up my hand early on and followed us through the village.
That's it for now. I've been sitting here so long that body parts are asleep that I believe are actually quite important.
-EB
P.S. Today we spend another day/night in Aswan. Tomorrow, we will join another cruise, the M/S Eugenie, which will take us from Aswan to Abu Simbel over three days and three nights. On Monday, we return to Cairo where we'll stay until we leave Egypt late in the evening of the 4th.
Cairo
Wow. This place rocks. Excessive amounts of turbulence aside (perhaps from the phenomenal heat rising from Egypt), the flight from Istanbul to Cairo was short and painless.
As expected, the terrain here is fascinating. Once we'd passed over the Mediterranean, the landmass of Egypt came into view. Below us, stretched miles of green, fertile, farmland supported by the incredibly complex irrigation system that gathers water from the Nile. As we neared Cairo, the color of the land switched almost instantaneously from green to brown. Masses of buildings - from high rises to shacks - appeared. The same color as the earth that surrounded them, it seemed as though they had been heaved up from the ground below. The air we flew through became brown as well - no doubt from the mix of pollution and dust sent up from the streets below.
When we landed in the airport, we purchased our visas (15USD) from one of the banks that lined the immigration area. We headed out to collect our bags and then passed through a considerable mass of human congestion - generated by fellow passengers, the 100 or so taxi touts that had amassed by the exit, and everyone who was waiting for friends and family to arrive. We were also greeted by the infamous blanket of heat that perpetually envelops this country.
The driver we'd hired to collect us and bring us to our hotel (Talisman...a perfect place) wasn't there (he never received our confirmation message), so we hired a driver (who was remarkably handsome - as it turns out, the people here take human attractiveness to a new level), and set off.
Outside the airport, we passed through several rounds of security...signing forms, providing names and destinations and so on...what good it all does is a mystery, and then we were out speeding along the impressive infrastructure that enables crazy Cairo drivers to drive even faster. Beautiful. Brown, brown, and brown. Oh, and dusty. The city is incredibly modern. Appearing less densely packed and populated than Istanbul (Istanbul could only be more crowded if it stacked more structures on top of those that already exist...every other surface is already covered), the city felt surprisingly welcoming - and clean. Yup, there's garbage about, but really, the Turks take street rubbish to a whole new level.
We arrived at our hotel about 20 minutes later and discovered that it was tremendous. Tucked on the fifth floor of a building set back in what would appear to be an undesirable alley/market, it's a surprisingly beautiful and well-kept place.
After settling in a bit, we set out to explore the Egyptian Museum. We spent three hours roaming through its disorganized, but nevertheless astonishingly impressive collection. We'll certainly go back before we leave Egypt for good - our first round barely scratched at the surface of it all and the objects it houses could not be any more fascinating.
From there, we headed out to walk along the Nile. By then it was dusk. We spent a long time taking in the views (this city - from the downtown vantage point) is incredibly sophisticated. Hot, and when I say hot, I mean HOT - in the sense that you describe an oven as hot, we decided to find a suitable place to get some water and a snack. In our search, Ben happened upon something close to his old turf...
The Four Seasons, Cairo. Before I knew it, I was signed up on a new exploratory mission. How does the Four Seasons, Cairo cater to its brilliantly elite, Middle Eastern crowd? (I'm laughing as I write this: in the last almost eight months, our travel itineraries have become delightfully inexpensive and "whoa, what a bargain"-esque...) even setting foot in such an impossibly luxurious place was comical/hugely unnerving and uncomfortable.
Somehow, however, Ben gathered up the nerve (or should I write balls?) to order us drinks in the hotel's central cafe. The last thing I ever expected to do while in Cairo, it turned out to be a genuinely educational/cultural experience...culture, in the sense of impossibly rich people from all over the Middle East. Situated in the middle of the hotel's high-end fashion centre, we had an excellent vantage point from which to view burqa-wearing women shopping for Gucci handbags, and impossibly sexy, barely covered, Arabic speaking women making eyes at the impeccably dressed, spicy-cologne-drenched, businessmen that surrounded them.
After we'd had our fill, we left (our tab was still minuscule- as it turns out, eating and even drinking in Cairo is incredibly inexpensive) and continued our on-foot exploration of the city. We walked for about two more hours. We passed through busy markets for food and clothing (and just about everything else you could imagine), over sidewalks that end as quickly as they begin (just like Istanbul), and through what turned into huge crowds of Egyptians who'd come out of their abodes to take in the cool evening air.
The storefronts and modern buildings of Cairo differ minimally from those we encounter in Istanbul. Older structures have a distinctly Middle-Eastern style with stunning arches and mosaics. But there too, we enjoyed a sense of familiarity. We might have been in Şanlıurfa.
Locals are hospitable, kind, welcoming and less openly-curious than Turks. Additionally, touts here seem more inclined to back off after the first discouraging interaction. A larger percentage of women cover themselves here than in Turkey, but interestingly, those that do, seem to follow less strict head-covering rules. Headscarves are wrapped in an immensely diverse number of attractive ways. At the same time, a considerable percentage of women here dress much like their Western counterparts.
All in all, this place is charming - thus far.
Today, we fly from Cairo to Luxor. We'll spend the night there and then catch a small, inexpensive Nile cruise that will slowly work its way down to Aswan - over five days and four nights.
No idea if we'll have internet. In case we don't, more in...a few?
The Deal
Mindless thoughts from...
We missed our flight to Albania on Friday. And miss it we did...by several hours. Don't ask.
In any case, as we'd scheduled our flight on the day our visas expired, we had no choice but to find another flight out of the country. The look on the face of the Turkish Airlines agent when we asked her to list all available same day flights to Eastern Europe was priceless. Apparently, there aren't many. And we'd missed them all.
So, we're in Vienna. I'd say we're both comfortable with how that worked out.
Impressions. This place has no shortage of beautiful structures and parks to pass through. It's been fun to play the "how much German do I remember??" game as well. We're both shocked by the amount of skin people show here. Cleavage, thongs, legs...hmn. Equally interesting are the number of people who exercise: tons. Fitness seems important though the number of overweight people is considerable. It's more or less the exact opposite of Turkey. Finally, the crowd here is undoubtedly much older than it is in Istanbul. We roam the city amongst herds of elderly European tourists.
Not too intellectual a post, I admit. We're headed out to explore now. I think we've been traveling so much lately that what leaves the strongest impression has been widdled down to people.
Sarajevo & Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Sarajevo 
My good friend Katy recently traveled to Bosnia and Herzegovina (BiH) for her work at The Global Fund for Children. Inspired by her accounts of her travels which include a blog well worth reading, and my own interest in the region's efforts to recover from the Bosnian War, we decided to visit the country and investigate for ourselves. Our trip there ended up being one of the most memorable and unique travel experie
nces we've ever had - we both agreed that Sarajevo is an extraordinary place in the world, the most endearing city we've had the fortune of visiting.
Below are pictures of Sarajevo and Mostar, which I hope demonstrate both the profound, lingering ravages of war, and local and international efforts to move forward and rebuild. Additionally, I have included some information about what we did there and a little of the very complicated and interesting history that makes the entire country so unique - and as it turns out, worth visiting.
First, where we stayed: The Halvat Guest House. An absolute treasure of a place, it's run by two people (Valida and Mumo) who've opened up their lives and home to travelers. Valida is quite possibly one the the kindest people I've ever met and our stay there was tremendous. Halvat is located in Baščaršija, a few minutes walk from Baščaršija Square, the oldest part of the city. With roots in medieval times, the square became one of t
he strongest trading points in the Balkans under Ottoman rule and Ottoman influence in local crafts, architecture, and food is evident. We often found ourselves eating food or walking through street bazaars full beautiful crafts quite similar to what we find in Turkey. (Interestingly, we often found that local craftsmanship was considerably better than what we tend to find here, so much so that we left with more metalwork than we've ever purchased in İstanbul.)
It's impossible to effectively encapsulate the history of Sarajevo, or BiH for that matter, in a small blog entry. I hope, however, that the following highly abbreviated synopsis will help put the rest of this entry into perspective. It seems inappropriate to talk about a trip to Sarajevo and Mostar without mentioning the incredible atrocities and devastation BiH in its entirety, continues to recover from.
History...
The war in Bosnia resulted from the dissolution of Yugoslavia. In the late 1980s, the decline of communism and a marked rise in nationalist and separatist ideologies (which are rooted in history dating back to the nineteenth century), left Yugoslavia in a state of crisis. Consequently in 1991, Slovenia, Croatia and Macedonia declared their independe
nce from Yugoslavia and in 1992, Bosnia and Herzegovina, a multiethnic republic comprised of Orthodox Serbs, Catholic Croats, and Slavic Muslims, passed its own referendum for independence. Not all Bosnian Serbs supported the referendum, however, and conflict soon followed. Extremist Serbian leaders, the likes of which included Slobodan Milošević (the President of Serbia from 1989 to 1997 and then the President of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia from 1997 through 2000), began fighting for the alleged protection of Bosnia’s Serbian population. Massive amounts of arms, supplies, and military support were subsequently channeled into BiH. In the Spring of 1992, the Army of Republika Srpska, assisted by the Yugoslav Army, waged an attack on the Croats and Muslims living in Sarajevo. Thus, Sarajevo became the target of the "longest siege in modern history" (google the war and you will find this quote absolutely everywhere...). Numerous aspects of the war that ensued remain subject to debate (in technical terms, 
what transpired? ethnic cleansing? genocide? was it a civil war between constituent nations? an aggression from Yugoslavia?...etc.) The war officially ended when the final Dayton Peace Accords were signed on December 14, 1995. An estimated 10,000 people died in Sarajevo alone during the conflict and the city's civilian population suffered immensely.
As time has passed, estimates of the war's casualties have changed considerably. However in 2004, the International Criminal Tribunal determined that 102,622 people died during the war. Of that number, an estimated 55,261 were civilians, while 47,360 were soldiers. Half of the country's population, about 2,000,000 people were displaced during the war. A Nato-led Stabilization Force (SFOR) remained in BiH from January 1996 through December 2005. SFOR was replaced in 2005 by the 
EU Force in BiH (EUFOR-Operation ALTHEA), which remains there today. While the terminology used to describe the war remain highly contentious issues, atrocities were committed during the war, largely by Serbian forces. I'm not going to go into these issues on the blog, but I strongly recommend the following sites for those of you who would like to understand more about what happened and what people in BiH continue to recover from: The Balkan Investigative Reporting Network; The International Criminal Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia; The Peace Pledge Union; The Crimes of War Project, BHMAC - BiH Demining Project,and; this good factual resource.
That synopsis aside...
Committed to seeing as much of Sarajevo as possible in our short time there, we immediately set out on foot and spent what amounted to almost two days in hours walking through the vast majority of the city - from hilltop neighborhoods down to Novo Sarajevo (New Sarajevo) and Novi Grad (New Town) where the new city stretches with highrise apartment and office buildings. As a testament to our mobility, I took over 500 photographs du
ring our travels.
The second picture above is of Alifakovac Cemetery, one of the most famous Muslim cemeteries in BiH. Though the cemetery has been a presence on the hillside since about 1550, a staggering number of grave stones were added between 1992 and 1997. The third picture above is of Saborna Crkva, the Orthodox Cathedral. Saborna was heavily bombed during the war, however, in 1999 the Greek government provided funds to restore it to its original state. (Reading our guidebook as we passed through the city, it was incredibly interesting to see which countries financed the restoration of which structures. )
The other pictures above and below mark 
the lingering devastation caused by the war. It's hard to capture the severity of it in a photograph. Skyrise apartment buildings abandoned as a consequence of wartime destruction stand next to fully restored, inhabited buildings. No building in the city escaped gunfire and shelling. Every building that existed during the war shows significant evidence of violence- from houses on the hillside, to historic monuments and huts in the fields. Most buildings are covered in hundreds, often thousands of concrete patches that cover where gunfire and explosions left their marks. Where enough money is available, buildings have also been repainted.
As dismal and crushing as this sounds (even writing about it is completely disheartening), the commitment of the local population (and in all fairness, of certain members of the international community) to moving forward outweighs all negative elements of the city's outward appearance. Additionally, as tourism remains absolutely minimal, foreigners are on the receiving end
of a welcoming so genuine it's disarming. People seem proud of their culture and of the peace they have managed in recent years and wish to share the tremendous history and traditions of the place with its new visitors. While most historic cities around the world look on tourists with a certain level of disdain, Sarajevo embraces those that it receives - no doubt in part because of what tourism in the region symbolizes - peace.
As we worked our way around and through the city, I could not help but wonder what it's like to grow up in it - now. I know that unemployment is high, in part because those who survived the war face critical issues in terms of psychological distress. Many children grow up in highrises pockmarked by bullet holes. I found myself e
xtrapolating on Wilson and Kelling's "broken window" theory - which though somewhat naive, asserts that signs of decline in a community (broken windows, graffiti, etc.) deter people from moving to it, drive inhabitants to leave it, render those stuck in it feeling abandoned and dissolute, and therefore encourage crime - in increasing intensity. Do children growing up in buildings riddled with holes from wartime gunfire have an increased propensity to eventually become criminals? How do such scenes impact their collective psyche? There are numerous problems with the "broken window" theory (it literally only looks at the surface to account for social ailments), but still it's hard to escape the idea that growing up in a community plagued by signs of violence must be at least somewhat damaging to a child's outlook on life, perspective of the future, and general aspirations. I hope this is not the case, but I feel that if it were me growing up in those buildings, I would struggle to NOT feel abandoned by the world - and pissed about it.
One of the most fascinating places we visited in Sarajevo was the DB Tunnel. Wh
en Sarajevo was first surrounded by Serb forces in 1992, access to food, water, medical supplies, electricity, and gas was completely cut off. Civilians were forced to congregate in the city center which was protected by the 'patriots league' a collection of police units and resistance fighters that had amassed a small amount of arms. Until the UN secured control of Sarajevo Airport in July 1992, thus enabling periodic airlifts of food, the city's population was 
forced to make dangerous treks to the free zone, which was on the other side of the airport. These treks led to hundreds of fatalities. Bosnian headquarters concluded that the safest way to connect the free zone to the city's vulnerable population was to dig a massive underground tunnel. Four months and four days later on July 30th, 1993, the 800m tunnel was completed. Suddenly food, medicine, people, electricity and water could reach the city. The story of the construction and protection of the tunnel is a tremendous one - an average of 4,000 people and 20 tons of material passed through it a day. It allowed nearly 300,000 people in Sarajevo to survive during the war. Above, are pictures of the house on the other side of the airport that hid one end of the tunnel, and the inside of what remains of the tunnel today.
Mostar
On Sunday we took a 2.5 hour bus ride from Sarajevo to Mostar, BiH's second largest city - and another critical place in the Bosnian War. While Sarajevo is set in a valley of mountains and is incredibly beautiful, in part as a result of the coziness its landscape affords, Mostar feels more open and exposed. 
Th
ere are mountains all around it yet the city is surrounded by a great deal of open space. Neretva River, which is amazingly clean and blue, runs through the city and houses (many of which have been restored since the war) line both sides of it. Stari Most (Old Bridge), the most famous and historically significant bridge in BiH, stretches across it. The bridge survived for 400 years (and even managed to support Nazi tanks in WWII) until it was obliterated by bombing in November 1993. The bridge was rebuilt over several years using 16th century building methods and finally opened in July 2004. Much of the financing for the reconstruction came from Turkey, the Netherlands, Italy, and France.
Šantića Street (below, with all the graffiti on the walls) was the dividing line between Croatian and Bosnian forces during the war (Croatians and Bosnians also fought each other during some of the Bosnian War) and it still exhibits extensive wartime destruction. While some buildings lining the street have been rebuilt and/or restored, others remain empty shells. A short walk behind the buildings on the street reveals even more extensive damage, as pictured below. At the same time, those structures that have been restored are generally very beautiful. Much like Sarajevo, Mostar remains an incredibly enthralling city, despite its considerable destruction during the war.
In that regard, rather than going through a lengthy account of the impact of the war in Mostar, here are some compelling statistics that demonstrate the extent of its impact on the city. 
In 1991, Mostar’s municipality had a population of 126,066. About 35% of its inhabitants were Bosniak, 34% Croat, 19% Serb, and about 10% Yugoslav. Yet in 2003, the municipality's population totaled 105,448 with an ethnic distribution about as follows: 45% Bosniak, 49% Croat, and 4% Serb. (
Stats from here.) The Bosniak and Croat communities remain tensely divided today, thus cutting the city in half with one group on each side of the river. Serbs now comprise only a minute portion of the city as nearly all of them were driven out during the war.
I think I've written enough for today. My apologies to those of you not expecting this type of entry on the blog. We had such an incredible experience in Sarajevo and Mostar, and were so sincerely impressed by and endeared to the people we met while we were there, that it seemed important to do more than put pictures up this time.
London.
We just returned from a last minute trip to London which included excessive amounts of sight-seeing and tourism, consumerism, and fine-dining. In sharp contrast to our approach to life in İstanbul (and all other traveling we've done since arriving here in November), we went out of our way to indulge in and enjoy every conceivable form of creature comfort. Fabulous.
We met my mother (whose availability and interest catalyzed the trip) in Heathrow last Thursday evening and set off on our way. Strangely enough, after much anticipation (and considerable worry that a taste of home would compel us to return to the U.S. on the next available flight), greeting her on the other side of customs seemed almost normal, as if the last near four months hadn't been full of trav
el, distance, general isolation, and intermittent loneliness.
As soon as we dropped our bags at the hotel, we headed off for drinks and a good meal. Stuffed with oysters, champagne, and dessert, we returned to our rooms and slept ‘swimmingly.’
The next morning we found ourselves a traditional(ish) English breakfast (hello, bacon and music videos on a TV screen) and made our way by foot to St. Paul’s Cathedral and Tate Modern (the picture of the kid on the slide was taken inside the museum which is full of several-story slides, hmn). In between, we filled up on coffee and sweets and snickered (albeit in an appreciative manner) at the general 
stuffiness of the local use of English. A favorite source of entertainment included a sign that read “CYCLISTS DISMOUNT.”
Later on that night we headed to dinner at Nahm, the only Thai restaurant with a Michelin star not inside the kingdom itself (!!!!). An extraordinary dinner, I recorded it in my mind as one of my favorite eating experiences ever. I ordered a spicy curry dish with cod which ranked as (a) the hottest meal I’ve ever ventured to consume, and (b) one of the best I’ve ever eaten. (I know a meal is hot when I’m conscious of the fact that chewing and savoring must be followed by a rapid swallow; allowing any portion of i
t to remain stuck in my throat would have consequences of a most dire nature, i.e. choking in the middle of a formal dining room.) Our waitress could hardly express enough concern when I ordered my dinner. She quickly informed me that I was ordering the spiciest dish the chef prepares and in addition to asking several times if I “liked spicy food?”, she rearranged the arrival of our respective dishes to ensure that I had plenty of side-dishes and salad to “balance the heat of my dinner.” When the curry arrived she placed twice the usual amount of rice on my plate and stepped aside to see how I’d fare. Brilliant. I believe that she was amazed when I “just ate” my dinner with little fanfare - other than periodic expressions of complete and immeasurable delight.
The next morning we woke up and decided to take full advantage of all the opportunities for consumerism that London affords its visitors. We made our way through the city and ended up at Harrods where the utterly meaningless nature of shopping, never seemed more delicious (or obscenely expensive). That night we headed out for fish and chips at a tremendous hole-in-the-wall and left tipsy and stuffed to the brim.
Kew Gardens entertained us on Sunday as we spent hours walking throug
h the conservatories and out in the main lawns. Plant enthusiasts be advised: this place rocks in a serious way. Sunday night we went for sushi at Nobu, purportedly the best “Japanese food in town.” The food was delicious indeed, but an overly sensitive waitress left us somewhat befuddled and the crowd was comprised entirely of the most wealthy and pretentious people we’ve been around since eating at Daniel in NYC. Zzzzzz. Ben and I both agreed that Makoto in D.C. still ranks as the best Japanese food we’ve ever consumed and I now wonder when or how my recollection of it will ever be surpassed.
Monday we explored the sites in the usual fashion (think Buckingham Palace and St. Jame’s Park) and spent much of the day attempting to find ways to stay together a bit longer. A notable experience at a gastropub called Cow in Royal Oak marked the end of the day, after which we returned to our hotel and grudgingly packed our bags.
Throughout the trip, Ben and I both marveled at the abrupt normalcy of speaking English - and at our equally sudden inability to understand it. When a barista at the airport coffee shop asked Ben if he wanted "cinnamon" on his cappuccino, it took three asks and a move toward the cinnamon shaker to convey the meaning of the word. The receptionist at our hotel had to inquire twice and allo
w me an exceptionally protracted minute of processing time before I understood that he was asking which credit card I wanted to put our rooms on...The embarrassment of it all wore off quickly, however, as the phenomenal perks of being ‘allowed’ to speak English sank in. If I wanted a different drink at a restaurant, directions to the bathroom, to read public transit signs, to instruct a cab driver, to understand the local news, to order a meal I was certain I wanted, or to otherwise just feel like something other than a timid 5 year old, I could. Suddenly, I was almost 'cool' again, able to communicate with locals, convey that I understood what was going on, that I knew something about food, that I was somewhat intelligent. Yet, at the same time, the simplicity of getting around, of an intuitive metro system, and highly knowledgeable cab drivers, took the edge off of nearly everything we did. The city seemed clean, un-intimidating, and readily conquerable. Gone was the excitement and satisfaction of the small accomplishment.
Our hotel, The Sydney House, was a delight in and of itself with beds undoubtedly produced in some otherworldly softness factory and service so warm and friendly we forgot that 95% of the world hates Americans. My mother warmed the staff up to us right away by blowing up her curling
iron in her room. An equally comedic event: Ben flew off his cab seat and onto the floor when a cabbie made an abrupt turn. His hysterical "relocation" occurred after a night of eating and drinking exploits. We laughed so hard and for so long that my eyes were still teary two hours later when my mom and I struck up an SMS conversation about it from our rooms.
I did find myself equally comforted by and worried for the multitudes of immigrants working throughout the London. Living in a country with only few local friends, no family, and only a meager understanding of the local language, has changed my perception and opinion of people trying to live and function successfully in a foreign country. When I found myself in the company of people whose English was the equivalent of my Turkish, I could feel my mind warming over. Suddenly, I was worried about being as polite and respectful as possible. I found myself recalling the feelings of oversensitivity and even misery I’ve periodically felt in Turkey – where one mishap instantly shifts my mood from one of general happiness, to one of complete desperation. I felt protective and weird, like I wanted to ask my new 'friends’ if they were doing okay, if they’d made local friends, found a good place to stay, had family nearby. I’ve never felt anything even remotely equivalent.
Finally, I found additional ways that I've adapted to life in Turkey. Walking around, I caught myself avoiding eye-contact with all men on the street. Back in a country where people voluntarily greet strangers in passing, I caught myself wondering why they were talking to me. My mom pointed out that I’m suddenly gesturing a good bit more when I communicate and my preferences for entertainment have shifted from being somewhat high-strung, to so flexible that even the most mundane activities seem delightful and enthralling. I suppose that’s a good thing.
Saying good-bye to my mother was tricky, but the trip was such a tremendous success and so different from anything we have done for so many months, that the sadness was quickly replaced by already fond recollections. AND, in similarly amazing news, when our bus from Ataturk arrived in Taksim, WE FINALLY MANAGED TO DIRECT A CAB TO DIRECTLY TO OUR FRONT DOOR. ! Someone, please have a toast in honor of this incredible development.
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