Straddling Europe and Asia, Soon Amerika

Probably my last sitdown at an internet cafe until I get back to the States. I've seen so much though I've not taken as many pictures as I should have. I'm kinda weak on that point. It will probably take two weeks for me to expel all of this smoke from my lungs --I would like this country so much more if there weren't toxic, noxious smoke everywhere. The sound of that little flint in a lighter being struck is now just about enough to send me over the edge of sanity. Snappage is still so very very close with me. Seriously, the smell alone is bad enough but to actually watch putrid billowing fogbanks spewing out of people's pieholes is absolutely sickmaking. If I had that mind-control superpower, Turkey would have a LOT fewer people in it.

I will probably need to reflect a lot more on my time abroad to assemble something meaningful, which I hope to post as some kind of epilogue. It's safe to say that I have just about experienced the full gamut of emotions available in the menubar (except, thankfully, grief). So many cities have I conquered, um, I mean headquartered-in, all different from the next:

Frankfurt, Germany
Riga, Latvia
Liepaja, Latvia
Vilnius, Lithuania
Minsk, Belarus
Moscow, Russia
Ulan Ude, Buryatia, Russia
Krasnoyarsk, Siberia, Russia
Novosibirsk, Siberia, Russia
Ekaterinburg, Urals, Russia
Kazan, Tatarstan, Russia
Antalya, Turkey
Istanbul, Turkey

and many cool, so-so and dumb places in-between!

I am tired, homesick and desperately in need of a laundromat and, god forbid, a pedicure. I'm not sure I can really find it in me to put these cloven hooves in front of another human being at this point, perhaps I'll just dangle them in a washing machine first. Oh yeah, a burrito, I seriously need one of those.

I thank all those who have read my misadventures, my extended stumbling-with-hands-waving through Eastern Europe Plus. The number of hits per day were staggeringly high somedays! I look forward to seeing all of you soon or at least sharing an email. Hopefully I will have gotten a haircut and gained some weight when we meet again.

Next: Munich, Boston, New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, San Luis Obispo

Bazaar Mindgames

The first blast into the olfactories is the unmistakable odor of cinammon, dancing in between tangs of thyme, turmeric and cardamom. Streams of saffron, wisps of mustard, jets of curry. Istanbul's Spice Bazaar is a staggering, sometimes lachrymose, aggression on the nostrils. And what a sweet assault it is, thousands of odors downsampled simultaneously into the brain. at dizzying bitrates. How could a country that generally smells terrible -- cigarettes, hookahs, cheap-cologne, body odor -- produce an entity so incredibly sensual? .
For the first time in seven weeks I am thankful that the gods of genetics have granted me superhuman smelling abilities. Except, perhaps, for the fragrant bouquet of an elegant perfume gently emanating from a slutty girl's neck, this bazaar is the apex of exquisite aroma on planet earth.

More chaotic and infinitely less pleasant smelling is the world famous Grand Bazaar, several huge blocks worth of shops absolutely jammed with Turkish tiles, fabrics, jewelry, linens, rugs, anything. And the smooth-talking vendors will try their best to bait you into their stores, taking you by the arm and showing you the single most beautiful belt buckle in all of Istanbul, all for very low price. Nothing can quite prepare you for this experience, there is no way to not get lost in the trampling masses -- it is chaotic, big, and fun.

Every street corner in Istanbul has at least one dude hawking something, usually there is a tag team at work. What they desperately seek with each passerby is that code word that will get them to turn around, crack a smile, slow down; because then their chances of a sale spikes tremendously. I like to watch them work the Americans, they are the easiest marks. "You from USA?" And the answer is generally yes with a big smile (Why yes I am from the United States, the best country on the earth, what do you think about that you miserable Turk? <- Reading into body language).

The followup continues: "What state are you from?" "Oh, really, my sister lives in North Dakota too! Please come have some tea, my brother, and look in one of my seven stores! You get special deal!"

When the magpie sees me, he never knows which word to select as his opener. I laugh to myself as I hear his brain whirring before the inevitable "Amigo!" comes flying out. After my blankfaced iron-eyed nonresponse he will cycle through Bonjour!, Italiano?, Guten Tag! and then, finally, Hello! By this time I am wistfully out of reach.

In the Grand Bazaar, I actually wanted to do a little shopping, so I just bit my lip and went in, having to simply endure the slippery salespeople. Even in the USA, if someone comes up and is even the slighest bit too helpful, I will bail. I hate the sleazy sales pitch as do, I think, nearly all Americans. This is why online retail is such a godsend. To make the horrible process more enjoyable for me, I decided to turn the game around on itself and adopt a new persona with each vendor. For each booth/stand/store (there are thousands of them) I would freely offer "Hello!" just to establish the lines of communication. (These Turkish sellers are extremely sophisticated and the best ones know six or seven languages, fluently). When they would ask me where I'm from, I would reply with some other country than the US (they will not bargain as much if they think you are a rich, spoiled American). First Canada, then Australia, New Zealand, South Africa. Very soon I was just getting ridiculous: Iceland, Mexico City, Tunis, Japan, anywhere an English-speaker *might* be from. I'm sure I still got ripped off, but at least I had some fun haggling with them.

In about 12 hours I hop onto Lufthansa Airlines as I slowly wind my way back home. If past patterns hold, I will undoubtedly be wedged between the noisiest snot-filled bawling microbe-infested infant and the embittered man-hating grimacing old woman who hates life and those who choose to live it.

Time to Play Tourist

It is really not my nature to play the typical tourist. I don't sign up for the annoying flocks of tour groups, I do not do cruises, I do not stay in the normal safe touristy places, I don't take annoying "Here's me at __" pictures (usually I catch myself thinking that I want to shove those people face first into the ground).

But today, just because my bearings are skewed and I wanted to soak in much of Istanbul quickly, I took one of those look-at-me-I'm-a-scared-Westerner orange double-decker sightseeing buses. I'm glad I did, I'm not sure I would've ever been able to locate cool things like the Byzantine city walls, erected by Theodosius II in the 5th century and stretching for several miles along the Sea of Marmara.

Of course I had to tour Hagia Sophia, once the third largest human construction on the planet (behind the Egyptian pyramids and the Great Wall of China), reconstituted in its present form by Emperor Justinian between 532 and 537. The central dome is absolutely breathtaking, bigger than a building really ought to be, supported by hemispherical concrete ribs -- a true architectural marvel. I'm not sure exactly what CAD software they were able to use way back when, but the wireframe alone must've been several GB of data and taken forever to render.

Of course, one of the world's most famous mosaics, only partly restored, peers down from one of the secondary domes. This is just about the bossest portrait of Jesus from the Dark Ages.

Unfortunately that may be all I've got in me for awhile. I acquired a nasty bug somewhere betwixt Antalya and Istanbul and that, coupled with the 105 degree heat, is grinding me down. Just like in the War of the Worlds, the one thing that ultimately destroys me, not the wild dogs of Romania, the crazy buses of Latvia or the roofies of Moscow, not the bad food of Siberia nor the mosquitos of Antalya. It is the common cold that has taken me down.

Hopefully tonight I'll feel better and get the chance to see some whirling dervishes or hang out with weirdos, the thing I do best when abroad. Or at home.

Multilayered Istanbul

The patchwork of browns, greens and blues that came crashing up through the Onur Airlines window was breathtaking, the jaggy roads still exhibiting the random nonrectangular elements of a non-planned, ancient city. I was, for unknown reasons, in shock to see the towering minarets and giant mosques in person, similar to first seeing the onion domes of Russia or the skyscrapers of New York City. Istanbul, Constantinople, Byzantium -- whatever you want to call it -- this city of 12 million and 5000+ years, definitely makes you feel small.

Twice the capital of the world, home to eye-crossing architectural wonders and ankle-breaking hills, truly straddles the continents of Europe and Asia, geographically and historically. I am walking the same cobblestones trod by Byzantines, Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Persians and Ottoman Turks, all of whom have governed this city. The same avenues of historical giants like Constantine, Justinian, Sultan Mehmet, Ataturk. I've never seen so many cultures mishmashed together outside of New York City and, having landed here only ten hours ago, I have heard at least fifteen languages on the streets.

My hotel is sweet, the Blue Mosque in clear gargantuan view from my window and, dare I say, a little too foofy for me. But there's a cat named Kismet, in whose room I am residing, so I'm very happy to have a little black-and-white pink-nosed buddy to sleep with.

Old Antalya

I traded in the drunken Russians for drunken Turks, but at least they smile at this new hotel I'm now headquartered at clear on the other side of the bay. When I get more time I will have to tell the story of dragging Elena and Adam, two students from Chechnya, out of my last hotel and into the scary streets of Phaselis where they could use the internet cafe. Ha! These Russians are not so comfortable when it is English that smoothes social interactions.

It is over 100 degrees and I'm sure I've emitted two pounds of sweat today. My internet access is essentially a telephone booth with huffy heavy-breathing Natashas over my shoulder, exasperated with each keystroke. Tomorrow I fly the azure skies with Onur Airlines, whose air distaster rating is thankfully completely unknown to me.

Here are some pictures of Old Antalya and Hadrian's Gate, in honor of his visit to Antalya several million years ago.

Thumbs Atwiddle in Antalya

Occupied several thousand years ago and continuously inhabited since the 2nd century BC, Antalya stands now as the unofficial capital of Mediterranean Turkey. Traces of Hittite, Roman, Byzantine, Ottoman and Italian cultures are visible in the architecture and ruins, sandwiched between the hotels and resort centers now serving the flocks of drunken Eastern Europeans who flock like lemmings to this area. Phaselis, the sub-city in which I am staying, known as Lycea to the Greeks, is the home to many interesting ancient structures. This hotel-resort is all-inclusive which means: Unlimited free drinks + Russians everywhere equals a veritiable orgy of vodka, whiskey, vodka, tequila and vodka. It is actually enjoyable - jaw-dropping, really - to watch them suck gallons of ethanol into their gills, only to eject, with satisfying gack-sounds, from the same aperture five hours later. It is all extremely beautiful here, the water blue and creamy, mountains crashing into the Mediterranean sea, half-bikinied Russian and Turkish beauties writhing in 100 degree sunlight.

My programmming must be seriously whacked because I am f'ing bored out of my mind.

Due to my lack of planning -- only partly my fault as I was imprisoned on rails for many days during the torturous junket back to Moscow -- I was essentially locked into some kind of charter flight to Turkey and into this 5* hotel (which, as I've been told and now see as fact, means 3.5* in the USA). It is oh-so-lovely and nearly everyone I know back home would be ecstatic to be lounging around the three pools and sandy beaches watching the beautiful boys and girls scampering about. Right now my melanin has topped out to red-bronze, I have sand in every orifice and my tropical drink quota has redlined. All in one day. And because of the annoying Euro-redneck Formula One Grand Prix that is being staged for the first time ever up in Istanbul, I am unable to book any accomodation whatsoever there, necessarily extending my stay in Antalya for another day.

Across the street I have spotted a shop where I can rent a motorbike for the day. I'm contemplating going into one of the mountain villages to see what kind of trouble I can stir up.