Turkish delight

Some countries just give you a really good feeling, and for me, Turkey is one of them.

As we drove in to Istanbul from the airport, we marveled at the landscaping and clean road -- Tunisia felt far behind us, although the road wasn’t quite up to Singapore’s standard (but what is?). And then we drew closer to the city center, and the beautiful skyline started unfolding in front of us, with mosque domes and minarets and castles filling our view.

We spent the next few days getting up close and personal with the beautiful sights of Istanbul. The Blue Mosque and Hagia Sofia are very close to one another, and look quite similar despite being built about a thousand years apart –- a wide central dome, smaller domes supporting the central one, minarets pointing skyward to the beautiful blue.

The interiors are vastly different, however: the Blue Mosque is all Arabic- style tile and stained glass, beautifully intricate designs, and I was required to borrow a shawl and a wrap to make a longer skirt. Our hotel was very nearby, which meant we passed by the mosque many times during our stay and got to see it at different times of day –- the low late afternoon light was lovely, but the nighttime view was truly enchanting, with upward exterior lighting highlighting the wings of seagulls circling above the domes and its six minarets (six is very rare, only two in all of Turkey).

Hagia Sofia was originally Roman/ Christian, but was converted to a mosque after the conquest in 1453, and the soaring dome is painted rather than tiled. The grand arches have the gray-stone look of European cathedrals, albeit with huge Arabic calligraphy medallions hung up high and Islam designs in much of the decor. Thankfully, Muslim conquerors simply plastered over the Christian mosaics rather than completely destroying them, and they have been restored as much as possible. Restoration is always ongoing, so the central dome has ginormous scaffolding racks as well.

Topkapi Palace, Istanbul's third major sight (in order of when we saw them, not necessarily importance), was also tremendous. I especially liked imagining what could be accomplished with kitchens to match the huge row of smokestacks -- boy, could those folks serve a feast for hundreds (unfortunately, the kitchens were closed to the public the day we were there). The interiors of the palace were gorgeous as well -- you wouldn't expect the rulers of the Ottoman Empire to skimp, would you?

Brian enjoyed pointing out that although Muslims won't drink alcohol, it's perfectly OK to have a harem of 300 concubines and their attendant slaves. I think it's more ironic that some of the women had enormous power (the sultan's mother, his haseki or favorite concubine, etc.) but in fact were never Muslim to begin with -- they came to the Palace as slaves who were taught Islam. I guess they didn't care much about bloodlines in those "royal" families.

Also interesting were the screened areas where conventional wisdom has it that sultans hid from view and listened to business proceedings, or examined the gifts brought to him, before showing his face for the business of the day. Sneaky!

There's an ancient Byzantine cistern that was used for a while, fell out of use for a long long time, and was re-discovered by some researcher when he heard tales of Istanbullers fishing from their basements. The cistern is kind of spooky, but in a quite pretty way. Interestingly, the umpteen columns in the place are of many many different designs (some doric, some corinthian, some ionic for example). They were obviously re-purposed from other already old-enough-to-be-demolished buildings. This one with teardrops is the only one in the place with any sort of intricate design. (This post would probably be better if I could actually remember the dates of anything, or the number of columns, or anything more specific than "old" and "some.")

A true highlight was our cruise up the Bosphorus, alternating docks on the European and Asian side of the strait, up to the Black Sea. The Istanbul suburbs go on for miles, and are quite ritzy -- there's a lot of money in those hills.

And then we went on to Cappadocia, in the interior of Turkey, a land of simply spectacular land formations -- "fairy chimneys," hoodoos, rolling curvy white limestone waves. We took a couple of hikes through the area and amazing formations just kept appearing. Locals lived in the caves and kept pigeons/doves throughout the region, so there are little holes and doors spread throughout as well. And the picture of us is in an underground city, a quite elaborate system of tunnels to which people escaped from persecution over the centuries (although perhaps originally built for protection from only elements and animals).

Our final Turkish destination was the town of Selçuk, near the ruins of Ephesus. We somehow stayed there 4 nights, despite really only doing 2 partial days of "stuff" in the area. But we were staying at a nice chill-out backpacker-style place (Atilla's Getaway) with a pool, hammocks, fairly healthy dinners, and friendly people. And there was a cheap gym in town, so Brian was happy. Ephesus itself was stunning (I'm running out of positive adjectives), a combination of Roman, Greek and Byzantine ruins -- they had quite a civilization built up until the harbor silted up. The resulting marshlands meant they lost their harbor (and access to the Aegean Sea) and they gained a lot of malaria. Neither of these were good for business, people started moving to the hills (the first instance of suburban sprawl?), took building blocks from the old city with them, and ground up some of the marble sculptures to use as plaster. I guess we should be grateful for what there is still left to see.

OK, enough of all that "we saw this and that" stuff.

The food was excellent, although it got a bit repetitive toward the end because we were in budget-eating mode for the most part, which in Turkey means kebap (that would be kebab in American) and pide (Turkish pizza, very thin and not saucy and very very yummy). We had a self-imposed pact not to eat in any restaurant with a tout out front imploring us to come sit down, which nearly ruled out our whole neighborhood in Istanbul -- but we still think it's a handy identifier of a high price/low quality joint. Brian is always looking for healthy and fiberrific foods (and has pretty much converted me), and virtually every restaurant in Turkey had some form of lentil soup, which were universally goooood, with a couple of absolute standouts. We ate a ton of pistachios, the first batch of which were stupendous -- from the Spice Market in Istanbul, and the more expensive of the two bins from which we tasted, which just goes to show that these guys paid attention to product/pricing/placement in their marketing classes. Our pistachio refills were never quite as good, but that didn't slow us down any.

Cherries were in season, and sour cherry juice was plentiful, and after three years in Singapore, let me tell you, I chowed down on these and other stone fruit. I loved Singapore's tropical fruit delights, but did miss cherries and nectarines and such there. Brian drank gallons of a thinned-yogurt drink called ayran, a bit sour for my taste, but he loves it.

Brian is still wearing his hat, and combined with my deep tan, people mistake us for Italians a lot. Except when we're wearing hiking boots, then we get taken for Germans. But people still like Obama, so it's OK when we correct their impressions. It's good to make people realize that not all Americans live in T-shirts and sneakers.

I was interested in seeing a whirling dervish show, but I've found that such cultural evenings have a lot of boring parts for a couple of good ones -- I estimated that I wanted about 7 minutes of dervish, rather than two hours advertised for most events. So I was extremely happy when we passed by an open-air cafe our last night in Istanbul, with a whirler on-stage. Turns out that 3 minutes was quite enough -- I would never call that whirling, it was more like languid turning. I hope this doesn't sound too ugly American -- there are plenty of American events I'd be happy to watch for 3 minutes rather than two hours as well! And supposedly the whole whirling dervish concept is really a personal religious rite which was banned for a while, but reinstated simply because it was viewed as important for tourism. Hmmpph.

Brian might tell you that his Turkey highlight was going to see the new Star Trek movie at a ritzy theater -- top of a skyscraper, cocktail bar in the lobby, high-end executive chairs for seating. Marty went with him but I skipped it, so I can't tell if he's kidding or not.

We just got to Sarajevo (Bosnia-Herzegovina, for those whose geography is still stuck in Yugoslavia), heading next to Mostar (also BiH), then Dubrovnik (Dalmatian coast of Croatia), north along the coast and inland through Hungary, Poland, ending our Eastern Europe jaunt in Prague in early August.

Marty was once again responsible for all the great photos above, but he (and his camera, and his laptop, and his fabulous bad puns) went on to Greece when we came north, so the days of high quality/high quantity photos are gone, sadly.

The Island of Doctor Fete

Heading east from the Sahara, we made our way via the ever-efficient Tunisian bus services to Gabes, where we wandered aimlessly searching for an outdoor café touted by the guidebook – to discover that their menu consisted mainly of Fanta and “we’re out of that.” After lunch nearby, we popped into a coffee shop. The owner (see photo) was thrilled to host Americans, and proudly played a video for us – one he had downloaded to his cell phone of a former President of the US. After the screening we exchanged hearty backslaps and uproarious laughter. The video featured a flying shoe. Isn’t great that even while out of office, W helps us get a warm welcome from international brothers? I love what that guy does for me.

Still chuckling from the Bush video, we hopped a southbound bus to the island of Jerba, making our way to Houmt Souk, the largest city on the island, which consists mainly of ancient whitewashed buildings accessible only by tiny cobblestone streets. Our hotel was a converted fondouk, another one of those former lodges for itinerant merchants. Fortunately, they had upgraded long ago to running water in every room, but kept vintage touches to remind us how tough the camel drivers had it back in the day.

Three nights in Houmt Souk allowed time to get friendly with a tailor (embarrassingly cheap), a barber (love that straight razor), and bicycle rental (wow, talk about strong headwinds on a one-gear bike). During one lunch we encountered ~30 Tunisian students on a field trip, so of course we hosted an impromptu math class – the photo is an overhead shot of the kids in mid-lesson. Hopping up and down when you know the answer is charming in any language.

Club Med La Fidele was waiting, and since we had gone almost two weeks without a decent croissant, we were very motivated.

This location has a beautiful beach, definitely the best we’ve seen in Tunisia – not only because the Club’s employees do a good job of regularly screening the sand to remove washed-up trash, nomadic dates, etc. but also because of the cute palm trees and shady palapas that provide refuge from the ever-present Tunisian sun.

The beach makes for lots of volleyball. Like at most clubs, our pal Marty is one of the best players, but I don’t have a photo of Marty playing because most of the time when Marty’s playing volleyball, Andrea and I are napping. You’ll have to settle for this photo of two teams changing sides to get some idea of the volleyball ambiance.

La Fidele is one of Club Med’s oldest villages-- it opened in 1954. Accordingly, the village retains the “old” party atmosphere of the ancient days – which means they have foam parties, lots of spirited beverages, dance-dance-dance, crazy games in and around the pool, and of course people staying up until 3 or 4 in the morning with the disco pounding so loud that even the sand near our room bounces up and down. We carefully store our earplugs in the safe every morning.

Fun special features are included, like Margaux (our aerobics instructor) and six other girls from the show, dressed in can-can girl/cowboy fusion outfits, dancing on the bar and pouring cocktails down the throats of single men. See Marty demonstrating what this fun special feature looks like.

Of course Marty didn’t enjoy any of this craziness, but he didn’t want to hurt Margaux’s feelings or those of any of the other single Eurobabes in the village. Suffice to say that for an old married couple like Andrea and I, napping in this village is the only way we can keep up with the crazy singles. Ahhhh, youth. Hey, hold on a second...he's older than us!

Since so many of the wild animals are nocturnal, there are very few people at tennis lessons each morning. This affords a great opportunity to get focused attention from the instructors to improve our games. Most notably we’ve made progress with serves and backhands, not to mention fine tuning our sliding ability, gliding smoothly across the surface of the clay courts just prior to getting a nearly out-of-reach ball – yeah, right.

To ensure guests avoid over-confidence in their tennis skills, the staff hosts tournaments once per week. Even with crazy handicaps they still crush us like bugs. See in the photo our chief of the Club Med village playing against us in a lifejacket and still nearly beating us (!); man these guys are good.

Of course we don't want the sailing staff to think we love the tennis team any more than them, so we've been spending some time on the sea. The club has 21 catamarans and the sailing stallions provide wonderful lessons, provided you speak French and buy them a Ricard at the end of the lesson. Of course, the obvious advantage of a catamaran for people with our level of sailing expertise is the chance to catch a black eye – but despite repeated attempts none of us are injured.

Most of our intellectual horsepower goes into fine-tuning our planning and execution of practical jokes on the Club Med staff. One of our favorite techniques is to identify a staff member with a high self-admiration index; let’s call that person “Mr. X.” At an opportune moment we shout, “OK, let’s go – everybody wants a big team photo with Mr. X… Mr. X please take position; front and center.”

I’m sure you can guess what happens next… the beauty of this approach is that the higher the self-admiration score, the more likely X is to believe that everybody wants a photo with him. We pull out the camera, the team (fully briefed in advance, of course) gets positioned for the photo, and Andrea or I surprise X by pouring a very large and very coooold bucket of ice water on him. After repeated experimentation, we find that a ratio of about 30% ice to 70% water works best.

It’s amazing how much joy is created from this simple technique. In the 2^nd ice-dumping photo, Mr. X thought it would be super-cool to demonstrate his break-dancing moves in our team photo just before we showed him how much we love him; some staff members can make this all too easy.

Our rooms are bungalows on the sand. Sand is everywhere in this village. Sand, sand, sand; breezes blow through the bungalows since much of the walls are lattice. Along with those Tunisian breezes come a little bit of sand as well as giant cockroaches who casually stroll across our bedroom tiles like they own the place. This was a problem until we agreed on a schedule with them; once this was done we stopped bumping elbows and spent the rest of our time with them living in relative harmony.

Evenings and mornings are absolutely spectacular – it’s the beginning of the Club Med season for this village, so the resort is at about 30% occupancy. All of this means lots of tension-free fun and no waiting for anything. Want to sail a catamaran? Pick one of the 20+ that are waiting for you rigged up on the beach. Want a sailing lesson? Take a private tutorial with one of the staff. Etc., etc…

Of course the standard Club Med delights also abound; massive buffets, body sculpting (this time in a Venice Beach style open-air gymnasium), espresso-addicted guests, open water swimming, cabarets/shows every night, gobs of aerobics/fitness classes, dance lessons, trying to speak French with mixed results, crushing lesser mortals in sporting events, being awarded medals in front of 400 of our fellow guests, beach parties, open air disco afternoons, crazy pool games, etc.

Thanks to Marty for all the photos in the post. We even received a special “love” award from the tennis instructors since we showed up for lessons everyday – or perhaps that award was just an effort to direct our icy love towards others....

Sadly, all of the sports and crazy fun had to eventually come to an end – we left Club Med yesterday; taking an eight-hour louage ride (translation: shared taxi with loud arabic music and no leg room) north to the capital. I’m posting this entry from our $25/night hotel room in Tunis where dumping ice water on the staff is not encouraged. We extended our stay at La Fidele from 10 nights to 12, and then to 13, but shucks, we’ve been in this country now for almost four weeks... and we’ve got a plane to catch!