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Time for a break
Traveling is to have multiple geographies within us. You go from one place to the other, but you don't let go where you've been. For anyone who writes about his traveling experience this can be confusing. You are in several places at once. I came to India after a remarkable experience in Iran. And I was still enjoying my passion for the desert landscape and already I was presented with a lush tropical landscape. Here everything explodes with life. Moist heat is imperative. The lungs fill with oxygen. A real contrast to what I had seen and got use to.
The body - and mind - doesn't know how to react. The amount of stimulus is tremendous and there is almost a sense of powerlessness. I lose my north. I have never experienced such a thing. And as with everything on this trip, I'm learning to deal with this situation.
I follow the advice of my body: it is time for a break. To experience the sweet business of doing nothing. Living without concern except for the moment. No other intention other than to exist. No doubt it was time for my first pause. And I have to admit, the site selection was perfect. The beaches of Goa call for that. They tell me: "It's okay. Don't worry. The journey is just in the beginning and there is still much to enjoy. It can wait. Now it's time to take a break..."
Where is my book?!
In fact the book is no longer mine. I speak of the guide book of Turkey. On the last day I decided to give it to someone who could make use of it. My only request was that when he would find no more use for it, he would hand it over to another person. The later is responsible to send me a mail so I know where is the book.
And I could not find a better person give it. I met Chris in a icy Inn in Göreme. I tourist, he was still working there. But this work is only a stopover on the project that is developing. Chris is also a traveler, but one with an inspiring project.
The project is called All School Project - Chris is touring the world by bicycle, going from school to school, asking the children to draw homes and then go deliver these drawings to children from other schools elsewhere in the world. A simple way of opening channels of communication and to improve our world. No doubt a major project, in which Chris and his team are to be congratulated.
Go to the site to know more, support, even if it is only a like in the Facebook page of the project. Of course, for those who are connected to schools and are interested in the idea just send a mail and get in touch with him.
As for the book I hope it helps somehow Chris and I am curious to know what hands will it stop next...
Dubai
Dubai appeared on my journey as a zooish curiosity. An opportunity in a trip between Iran and India. I wanted to know this desert-created polis.
Once at the airport, I had the notion of being in a very different world from where I came from. The scenario of the large and polished hall of the airport conveyed me to the feeling of being in a five star hotel. By the time I could even imagine that I was in a European city. Around me there was no veil and everything seemed organized. Of course in the customs check point, with its warning to certain rules of conduct, made me come back to reality.
Since I had little time, I ended up choosing to do one of the city's highlights. In this case, the Burj Al-Khalifa, the world's tallest building. Since I had to do something, I owuld do something that is only possible in Dubai. And I realize that this must be the dominant way of thinking. I feel that people wanted to create a unique place, a unique experience. What counts is to be big or bigger. Things that money makes possible.
After leaving the functional dubai metro, I got my first view of this spear pointed to the sky. Impressive, as impressive as the number of buildings being built. Beside residential homes I encounter monsters of concrete and glass. Step by Armani Hotel - luxury, luxury, luxury - and follow the clean road that leads me to the Dubai Mall - the world's largest – a gateway to climb this human made mountain.
Inside, modernity greets me. I forget my simple facet of wandering traveler and become a tourist. After all, here it is what I am. And with ticket in hand I'm coming to the elevator smiling. It is the first time I go up in a skyscraper. I am curious to find out how it feels. A man dressed in Arab shows me the way. I share the elevator with other tourists, and when the climb begins, I feel that this is not a normal lift. Whether the pressure in the ears, or the vertigo count of the floors, something tells me that this can achieve a great speed. Reached the top, I have a wide view of the Emirate. A city planted between the desert and the sea.
I can not help having the feeling of an artificial city. Something built to satisfy the ego of those who created it. And despite all the luxury, all modernity, every perfection I feel that this city does not belong here. Almost looks like the recreation of human beings full of money. I go down the elevator again. Go straight to the street. I've seen what I wanted to see. The time is to be a little inside all this luxury before returning to the hustle and bustle of the trip. I do not give my time as lost. I think it is necessary to see it. See all the luxuries that money can buy. I think it is the only way you can better understand human nature.
And before leaving, a good time. At the airport an Arab was saying farewell to the freedom of Dubai, the best way he could. Warmly celebrating the last moments while we exchanged a few words. I find that the desire for freedom is increasingly common in these parts ...
Your hand ...
Your hand shows me something unique. I'm blind, but you gently guide me. I hear voices and know I'm in a room. I feel the wrinkles of your hand. It is marked by the experience of mankind. I know I can trust. I decide to let go and find out what you want to show. I sit and the word "chay" is already familiar to me. Something is being mounted in front of me. The sound of metal hitting wood proves to me that they are setting a table. You guide me there. Compel me to open my hand and find out what you want: to offer me a tissue.
At first touch, I feel the velvet of a Persian sympathy. Like the comfort of a coffee taken in the company of a storyteller. There, in the middle of nowhere, just the cars broke our conversation. At this point, there wasn't a tourist and a guide. We were two human beings sharing a good conversation and a cafe that tucked the soul and cast the cold away.
We proceed to see what other pieces of fabric you offer me. This is rougher, almost aggressive. It doesn't want to let my hand touch it. It doesn't belong there. As I don't at the rally celebrating the anniversary of the police that controls moral. It was in the beautiful Iman Square in Isfahan. The same that a few days before received me so well. Now the black veil, such as prejudice, coveres women and boy-men are dressed in camouflage-uniformes. It was a party that I didn't share and I drove out of square.
Your hand guides me to the next piece of fabric. And now it's so different. Becames lighter. Lets in the fresh air of a soothing conversation along the river. Free from prejudice or moral. A timeless moment and without geography. Except that of our dreams and emotions. So, once again I feel the hospitality of the people who live here. Something that touched me with all the depth. I humbly thank you with the certainty of not being able to repay such a generous gift.
I do not need to be guided anymore. I'm eager to discover what else there is. As my hand passes this new piece, the fabric emits a special sound. As special as hearing the call for prayer in the Iman Mosque. I walk alone in its spacious cloisters and the sound becomes transcendental. The melody of those words don't enter my ears but my soul. It's poetry embodied in sound. It raises me to another state, to another consciousness. I walk with the melody in my head and just to be awakened by the sound of the flute that plays in the music hall of the Ali Qapu Palace and I enter into another moment of contemplation.
I think a more beautiful fabric cannot exist until my hand touches a last piece. I have no words to describe it. It is the purest I could feel. It moved me. It changed me. I shudder to think of it. It would be a crime at this stage to try to describe it ...
Finally I recover my eyesight. I see what my hand felt. A tissue filled with moments, embroidery perfectly in a country we call Iran.
Underneath the veil
It makes 32 years that Iran was covered by a veil. Since then it has become more distant. Today we know little of the reality of this ancient people. It is supplied in an image of radical religiosity, a dictatorial state and an extremist people. Closed and suspicious of Westerners. That was not the image that I was offered me by those who have visited it. Supreme curious as I am, I had to discover what lay beneath the veil of my ignorance.
Tehran
It's loud, dark and polluted. The roar of the bikes rule the streets. They go everywhere - including the sidewalks - and to cross a zebra crossing is an adventure not suitable for the fainted heart. But this city has a vibe that at least doesn't leave you indifferent. Political capital, you feel that burden here. Perhaps in an unconscious level. The best example are the veils. You find one for every personality. Despite the legal requirement, this is challenged by a veil that covers only the end of the hair. Or is confirmed by the traditional veil, in which you don't see a tip of hair. A duality very present everywhere.
I was fortunate to know a little more of its life. An enormous gift from Mahdi. I realized that the "picturesque" - transit - becomes a hell for those who live here. I could be a "revolutionary" and wrote on one of the many sites that is censored - the facebook. And finished the night with a snack (sugar syrup sweet) you see for sale all over the city. I discovered also that Europe is a real stronghold. Even if only in tourism, it has become an almost impossible task to get visa if you were born in the wrong coordinates of this planet.
In visual terms is not a city that fills the eyes. Between the degraded and the compound, you find everything. An "everything" that comes wrapped in a haze of pollution and standardizes the city. A grayish brown broken only by the somewhat-colored signs of the shops. But this city "hides" something very special. Catch the subway and go out the north. I'm sure you will be with your mouth open. The view of the Alborz mountains is something unique. Perhaps the best postcard that Tehran can offer. They are authentic giants of rock and snow to watch over this city.
But Tehran has more to offer. Khomeini Square is the center of chaotic motion and high street shops. Also important avenues go out of it (such as Ferdosi, with its exchange offices and shop windows full of U.S. dollars). In the middle of the square a placard of the Iman leaves me amazed at the resemblance between him and Sean Connery. You should confirm this with your eyes. Very special for me was to see the graffiti Statue of Liberty with a skull face. Iconic image of anti-Americanism. A strange feeling I experienced, almost bittersweet. The mini-aqueducts separating the roads of the rides are another small detail of this city. Former channels carrying drinking water, they are now places where rain storm runs. With more than 30 cm, quickly you get used to be careful with them. If it doesn't call your attention at first, I am sure that the first shock of falling into it you'll never forget them.
Tehran is a great introduction to this country. The perfect place to start to lift the veil that conceals it. Finally, nothing better than smoking shisha with friends. The semi-clandestine place made me fear what lied behind the door. Inside a dimly lit room, filled with sofas covered with Persian tapestry and few hours of good conversation.
Shiraz
"I suspect you want to go to Persepolis..." tells me a man of dark complexion and youthful air. I ask myself "Is he a fortune teller?". The day before I left a parakeet dictate what Hafez had planned for me. He is one of the most celebrated poets in Iran. Every home should have a copy of Quran and Hafez. And, like the Lonely Planet says, I suspect it will be easier to find a copy of the work of Hafez. Is custom to make a wish, open the book at random and see what Hafez tells us. At the door of his tomb, some people have a set of verses, and for a small fee, we learn our fate - "fal" in Persian. The grave itself is a must visit in Shiraz. Contrasting with the raw look of the city, the grave is a beautiful and peaceful garden.
"You must be the driver ..." I reply. "Morteza" presents itself, delivering a card and an infectious smile. It could not be happier with whom would guide me to Persepolis. Morteza is the embodiment of Persian sympathy. Gentle, polite and very jovial. Along the road - through the mountains and that by itself fill the eyes - tells me how he is a friend of another Portuguese, also João, but in this case, Pedro. He describes the adventures of João and how he was kidnapped by the period of "the best 22 days of your life" between Pakistan and Iran
He goes on and tells me a little of his history of 62 years. How he was petrochemical worker in time of the Shah. And how, after the revolution, was fired for not being able to work with the mullahs. I see how this revolution has impacted his life, and that not always "revolution" has the best outcome. He leads me back to his youth and how the villagers drove the first cars. When he explained that they thought the rearviewmirror was just to straighten my hair, I cannot stop laughing. He is a true storyteller, and with his words I travel a bit for the country that no longer exists. Upon arriving at my destination, he helps me to buy my ticket to Persepolis.
And this place, despite half-naked, is a reminder that this is a land of great empires. The tomb of Artaxerxes makes me understand the choice of location. A wide plain is the perfect setting for the palace of a great empire. I wander a bit here and through other times. I wonder what the foreign commissions must have felt upon entering the grand staircase at its entrance. From the top, it would echo trumpets and exhibited, by sound, the strength of this empire.
After this visit to the past, I go to another time machine, Naqsh-e Rostam. It is the giant tombs of Darius I, II, Xerxes I and Artaxerxes I. We only managed to get a sense of its size when we see another human being - always looks tiny - looking astonished at it. One of several inscriptions seems a warning to limit Europe had. In a bas-relief the Persian king holds by the hand the Roman emperor, while another kneels. Here was Rome who paid homage to another great empire.
I return to the company of friendly Morteza, while going back to Shiraz. He gives me more information about the beautiful places this country has to offer. I explain him that I've seen the beautiful Masolo Aramgah and Shah-e-Cheraga, or that I got lost in the mysterious and infinte streets of the bazaars. Where it is impossible not to let your imagination guide you as you go adrift. The tapestry is dominant, cut only by the spices, perfumes and teas. I tell him I just am missing a local specialty - Faloodeh Shirazi, an ice cream. He takes me to the place that a friend suggested me. An ice cream parlor behind the fort that dominates the city center. This strong, austere on the outside but inside Delisio, marks the end of Zand Avenue - the road that cuts across the city. I say goodbye with a sense graditude, being sure that I could not have found a better person for me to convey what this city has to offer.
Isfahan
My mind is twisted. The normal iranian tour starts in Isfahan (ie if you do not want to stay in Tehran). I had to do the oppositee and end here. And in good time I did. Isfahan is the pearl of Persia. A city with lots of green spaces and a river that divides it into two parts (detail that jumps out after spending so much time without seeing water). Crossing that river are numerous bridges. Some modern, some with a rich history. The oldest - and the ones I liked the most - are the Si-o-Seh and Khaju. Both built in yellow brick typical of this region. They are bridges between the north-south, between reality and imagination. Beautiful places to stay and admire the beauty of the river and its banks Zayandeh. It is a city that goes on here. Between a road with trees, flowers and shrubs you find some statues, recreation and exercise machines. Beautiful...
But the corridors of trees remains in the main avenue - Chahar Bagh Abbasi. In its sides, the normal hustle and bustle of Iranian cities. Traffic, lots of shops and lots of movement and color. In their midst, a contrasting tranquility. From here you reach the Imam Square. A large, geometric square. Contains the best that Persia has to offer: the bazaar in the north, Iman mosque south, east and west Lotfollah Mosque Sheikh and Ali Qapu Palace. Its beauty lies not only in its monuments, but in how subtle decor, just torn by lust of thesemonuments, leaves us in a state of tranquility. Behind this square is a city that lives. A city that runs and moves. Here it seems to have a calmer rhythm and light.
A good place to go is the Bazaar. Places always conducive to imagination and to the satisfaction of our desire to observe. Every detail seduces us and will make you smile later when you remember them. And even lost in the middle of the closed streets, you end up in the oldest part of town. Here the scene is quite different from the waterfront. The yellow desert is dominant. This area consists of numerous narrow streets where we want to get lost. However - and under penalty of losing too much time getting somewhere - it's worth doing it in a not very "intense" way. Here is another time for letting go a "wow." This is the Jameh Mosque. A real tribute to the evolution of Islamic architecture. On the outside is completely unnoticed. But once inside, it is the time to contemplate all its splendour.
To complete the city there is nothing better than going to the Armenian Quarter. The way there leads us to the extensive Tohid Avenue. And in these parts, the modern coexists with the classic, the wide streets with narrow lanes. Walk up and find the stores that we used to see elsewhere (Apple, Adolfo Dominguez, Nike, Puma, Geox, etc ...). Here it has a different flavor. It's a place where we let go until our feet can endure. In a store, a sign, a flower, the color of a building, or simply the movement of the city, you find enough interest to stay.
Of course all this is wrapped up by the friendly locals. And at every opportunity they speak with you, help you or will try to understand you - even if the most common words are just a dozen. A sympathy that I will keep forever. A great gift, perhaps the biggest pearl that you can take with you.
And underneath the veil ...
... is a world that awaits you. Each city is unique. I remember the movement of Tehran, from Shiraz the sympathy and the tranquility of Isfahan. I leave with a feeling that I will return. I just lifted a little of the veil. And in that small space I found, above all, a wealth in people who crossed my path ...
Le Moi Errant: The beginning
I conclude my first month of travel with a new rubric. I would like to thank Suzzanne and Ana Salvador for guiding me to this title. This space will be the one where I try to describe the inner journey inside my adventure. Travelling is to look around as it is to wandering inside. I hope you enjoy this rubric.
The start couldn't be more intense. There were many emotions, episodes and moments. It is, above all, a time to accommodate feelings and to confront with a new reality. Irt is very different from what I expected. No matter what, we create expectations, idealize situations. The reality is always different. And I know that though I try to put into words what I live, this can only be felt when traveling. Perhaps it was my first surprise, the difference between the ideal and reality.
At first we tried to achieve what we dream. See what we wanted to see. But in my case, I had to abandon that feeling. The reality is what it is, and more than to accomplish what I dreamed, I want to live the present. It was difficult to exchange the eagerness to see with the calm of being. I know I'm losing a lot. That many sites I won't see. But I also know I have a lifetime to do so. More than a list of to-do's, I want to find my trip.
It's an uncomfortable feeling that you have with a such desirable world close to you and you choose not to go everywhere. But travel is also going in search of discomfort. Perhaps this is what forces a traveler to change inside. Fight against his natural instinct of protection. And when we are in a comfortable place, we're going into the unknown once again. But this change, this discomfort compels your spirit to be totally open. You look more carefully at where you are. Inside, you feel an insecurity that you end up controlling. Where you go is more important than feelings.
I know that one month is not enough to say that I changed, but the reality is what happened. Looking at myself leaving for this trip is something already far away.. The change is diffuse and sublime. Something that I cannot grasp yet, but a change nonetheless...
Ben Türk
Today is my last day in Turkey. In fact, tomorrow I'll be still here, but it will be passed on the road. From Göreme to Ankara and from there to Tehran. I am thrilled. The whole experience was overwhelming. More than anything, I take with me the people I met along the way. I take Yuhsi companionship, the sympathy of Zé, the sympathy of Sophie, the idea of Harry, the open heart of Alejandro, the remarkably way of Volnei and Pinar, the tip of the Juliana, the conversation with Quang and the hospitality of Chris. A great start of this trip.
But Turkey will always have the image of three people: Eda, Naime and Özlem. Daughters of this beautiful land, they were the key to open the doors of this country. There are no words that can repay the kindness, help and hospitality you gave me. I feel you represent the best that this country has to offer: unique and interesting people, wrapped in a phenomenal historical context.
Are the people that make Turkey a great country. Whether we are strolling through the narrow streets of Istanbul or admiring the beautiful landscape of Cappadocia, they are what make this place unique.
What a spectacular fifteen days! Istanbul is a vibrant place. Doesn't leave you indifferent. A huge stage for life. In the turmoil of a market, to pass by the famous Galata bridge or enjoy the day-to-day one of the avenues, this city is always a multitude of lives. Different backgrounds, cultures and histories live in harmony. And you feel history not only in monuments or roads where you walk, but, above all, in people. In their traditions and habits. In their way of being and interacting. It is a real city.
Cappadocia harmony contrast with this agitation. Here you will find a calm among its many valleys. People are as friendly. You get the assurance that hospitality is of the country and not just of a region. I love how this whole area has many angles. And if Istanbul is a cultural mosaic, this is a landscape mosaic. Both give you strong emotions. I like to lose myself (but not much) here, or find that little cove where only the wildlife goes. And to hike. Maybe it's genetic. We are able to walk, and after a sedentary life, my whole body asked to walk. Follow the tracks as if I would arrive at a haven away.
And I just saw two locations. A small sample of what it has to offer. Discover this country was a gift. I underestimate it. I sought a place of transition and found an authentic and welcoming space. And after such a good welcome, I feel at home. And after being so mistaken with one, today I am also a little Turkish ...
Tesekkür ederim to all,
Hosçakal Turkey.
P. S. Tomorrow is time to travel. When you return to this space I'll be in Iran, and will have other adventures to report. If all goes well, I come back to this blog on Wednesday.
Thousands of coincidences - and small choices - makes a moment. In this case, walk to Urgup (8 kilometers away from Göreme) and a long climb, led me to this place. A small shelter on top of one of the valleys ripping Cappadocia. Protected from wind and graced by the sun, I finally met the time to admire it all.
Down below, amid the bare walls of the valley, vegetation flourishes. I have the feeling of a small Garden of Eden. Autumn gives it a brownish tinge, where green is emerging here and there. You hear no sound of civilization. Only birds and wind touching the leaves speak to me. I reflect a little. I'm lucky to be here, right now, amid such beautiful scenery.
I feel that it touches me and molds me. Somehow I'm different. More calm and centered in my thoughts. It isn't strange the Ottoman Christians have come here. All the immensity of this landscape compels us to reflection and humbles us. There is a duality in this landscape. Here, on top, we have a broad view of soft red mountains with white lines. These lines are the monumental valleys depicted in photographs. It is an exotic place for strolling around. The tracks take us to short white valleys, the lost sites and tunnels that seems portals to a fantasy world.
In fact this whole place is like a fantasy world. It is easy to imagine that, through the bushes, an elf will come out at any time. Or the sound of the wind, is Luke Skywalker arriving. But it is also the perfect place to think about nothing. In my case, I took the ipod shuffle and let it determine the soundtrack. It's classic music. Suddenly the slopes become musical. As if it came from its valleys. Maybe it's the wave of the hills which combine with the chords of this song. I do not know. I do not even bother to find out why. I just let it go and enjoy this beautiful moment ...
This is also part of the trip ...
A person wakes up smiling and happy with life. Imagining the amount of balloons that will see when you open the door and... the day is gray and cold. Those that make you want to be by the fireplace and do nothing. "No problem" I think as I descend the stairs to take my breakfast.
Time to say “Gerhama” to the people at the inn. This case it is only one, Chris, a Swiss traveler. But in his case making a slow trip - a bicycle tour around the world. For now he is work here, while preparing for the next destination. In addition to breakfast - toast with butter and jam accompanied by tea - he also gives me some tips on places I should see. Something that I accept with great pleasure and choose to follow.
Backpack and off I go. The beginning is simple, a road in the middle of a nearly deserted plain. In the way I feel a drop of water. "I'm imagining things ..." I say to calm my growing concern. But after the first is always another, and when my jacket gets wet I can no longer ignore reality. I look forward and see the overcast sky and no shelter. A simple rain doesn't bother me. Rain, cold and wind is another story.
I decide, very reluctantly, to return to the small tourist village which is Göreme. Today began the low season in these parts and there is nothing to do. I decide to refresh my mind with the best latte of the site (at least they advertise it like that). The cafe is cozy and the latte is really good. In a better mood, I decide to make some use of my day. Start by buying my ticket to Ankara and stop at the supermarket to buy some things I needed. Deep breath and I become conscious of what I have ahead.
I go into the pension determined. One day I had to do so, and despite the cold, today is the day: I have a to wash my clothes. I look around and find a bucket and bowl. This part is taken care of. Now is time to find a place to hang out the clothes. Walk out onto the balcony and find the line. Yet it is enough loose to bond the clothes into the wall. A problem that I would have to solve. I'm going to my backpack and take the line from my "MacGyver" bag. Node here, stretch theres and in no time I solved the problem. Then it's time for the arduous task. I do it with a smile.
I spend the rest of the day inside. This seems a haven fot travelers stranded in the desert. It has a charm hard to explain. A Turkish employee who barely speaks English and almost doesn't notice you. A system of self-service beverage in which we point what we consume in a paper available next to the fridge. And a mess that makes us feel like in our home. I do not know what it is, but I like it.
Despite not having done anything, I get to the end of the day happy. After all this is also part of the trip. And despite not having the glamor of other activities, I know that is a step in the path that began eleven days ago.
PS Now I pray that the clothes will not freeze in this cold hell (it is anticipated freezing temperatures)
A very special company ...
"And how will you handle traveling alone?" Recurring question when I spoke of the trip. I responded that, with my dual personality, I would never be alone. Deep down I knew it could be tricky, but I would end up finding friends along the way.
But yesterday was special. I decided to travel through the valleys of this magnificent region. Since I just arrived, and no friendships made, I was prepared to do it by myself. Nothing that scares me because I like to walk alone. Not five hundred meters ahead and... I had company! At first I was a little scared. Roxelana and Halide were beautiful, but finding them in the middle of nowhere, and so happy to see me, made me alert. I decided to give it time and see where this relationship was going.
The destinations were the Rose and Red Valley. Two well-known tracks and perfect for me. Inexperienced in these wanderings, I must go where there were others. If something happened to me, I would never be far from help. Neither Roxelana or Halide could help me in this case. With this decision, I leave the main road. I venture down the tracks that cut the curtains of rocks in front of me. And in more or less open spaces, we were going together. Halide, more independent-minded fighter, went ahead of me. Roxelana, with more compassion, gave me protection behind me. And suddenly the valley opens in front of me. And what a sight! I could not contain a "wow". It is those views that leave you breathless. I couldn't do more than admire everything around me. I was humbled by what I saw.
After a moment of wonder, I enter these valleys. Pass by a strategically placed cafe on the way. "Want a drink?" the owner asked. "No thanks" I reply with a smile. My desire was to walk through the rocky slopes carved by the wind. Where vegetation conquers every fertile piece. You have a mix feeling of dryness and lust. These tracks are really a perfect stage for hiking. In this case, the autumnal aspect allows you to be more focused on yourself. After a life of stress and complications. Of busy days and strong emotions. And after a fantastic start of travel, I could finally make the break I needed. It was the biggest gift of these covered-in-white-veils monsters: a time away from everything and a place to yourself.
And when fatigue kicked in, it was time to return. The sun was hidden behind the mountains and the cold is relentless here. I say goodbye one last time to Roxelana and Halide. Without doubt, today they were the best friends of this man...
Letter
Göreme, November 9, 2011
Dear Reader,
I just arrived in Göreme. The trip was long and a bit tiring. But it was worth it... I woke up to see the beautiful sunrise in Cappadocia. It is a vast landscape. The tone of the white ground combines with the rays of morning sun. Maybe that's why the balloon ride begins at this time of day. And there are so many! A real live postcard.
Yesterday, I ended up not doing much. Check in at the inn and left to see the Göreme Open Air Museum. I know I'll use this word a lot but is really pretty. A monastic complex forged in the rocks of this region. It is not very wide, but the whole site allows you to imagine how life was here. And even as tourists fill the galleries - making the experience a test of patience - you can you have a great view of the valley that extends from Göreme. The Dark Chapel is well worth the additional 8 liras. The frescoes look new and you can imagine the beauty that the other galleries would be. Although banned yet I managed to take some pictures. More for my ignorance (and luck) than daring. Only in the fourth picture, the security (which had just come in) told me "no photos". I made my ignorant tourist face #31 and moved on.
The rest of the day was calmer. Although I went in search of the sunset, it proved to be an impossible task. I left the hostel too late and the time escaped me. No problem, because I ended up finding the first person I met on the trip: Yuhsi, from Taiwan. Coincidence of fate, also quit her job and is making a long trip to Europe and surrounding areas. We ended the day with an excellent conversation, those that knows no time.
I eventually remember all the roommates and good friends I met. Living proof that sympathy knows no coordinates. We shared a brief good times, but it was enough to make friends, arrange contacts and stories. One of them seemed taken from a romantic movie. He Brazilian, she Turkish. They met and talked over the Internet for a decade. And fall in love the first time they are together. It is pure magic and I hope everything goes perfect. The Metropolis Hostel had a special vibe. Even the receptionist, with a cheguevarish aspect and schizophrenic mood (jumping from a Soviet to a Latin sympathy while the devil rubs his eyes), seems a character to appear carved of a weird story.
It's time to say goodbye. Time to wolk in the beautiful (there's the word again) trails that this region has to offer ....
With you on my mind, I say goodbye,
A kiss and a hug,
Stran, the kid traveler
PS I do not know if you noticed, but I put a link on the blog for my photo album
One unlikely day...
What an insane day I spent in Istanbul. I schedule a quiet day with little to do. Begin in University and making my way back to the Grand Bazaar. But it seemed that bad luck would be the motto of the day. In the first photo I discover that I have no battery. After I go to the market to find it closed. Back to the hostel and take the opportunity to address the next destination: Cappadoccia.
Now with the battery charged, accepted the invitation of the autumn sun and went back into the streets. I had no particular focus. The image of a Nargile in Tophane leads me to the tram, but I decide to get out. Blame it on the sea that attracts me so much. I've never been in a city divided by a dark blue sea and its fascinating to me. I remember that I hadn't visited the Spice Bazaar. It was also closed. But the narrow streets on the sides were swarming of trade and I lose myself there. I follow the crowd going by. There is a little bit of everything: jewelry, shoes, scarves, sweets or spices. Vendors compete to see who has the best voice and captures the most attention. I jump from street to street, choosing the insecurity and following the path that calls for me.
Now I find myself in a lonely and silent street. It doesn't appear that I am in Istanbul. Around here the only resident is one cat that ignores me completely. This city is a city of cats. Each has his own personality: the timid, the lazy, the idle, the shameless, etc... They give a unique tone to a city that seems to take care of them.
I give up and decide to seek help. I don't want to walk for hours to get to a known point. Guidance received and I find myself in the Sultanahmet district. Here are no longer the locals dominate but the tourists. The flurry of cameras, poses and guides are actors in this historical stage.
I sit down a bit. What to do now? I open my guide and I realize that I still wanted to go to Istanbul Modern, a space for contemporary art. With a tokken in my hand (here the tickets are plastic coins) I go to Tophane.
I arrive and find that it is time for Istanbul Biennial - a meeting point in Istanbul between artists from different cultures created by the İstanbul Foundation for Culture and Arts. This year the works combine art with politics. The art form as a political expression is something that I really admire. I loved the clean and effective space. Some works surprised me a lot with its originality and innovative character. One that struck me in particular was about a demolition of a house in Palestine. A shoe, a drawer or a spoon recalled that, more than anything, this is a human conflict. No doubt a very successful exhibition.
Time to relax. I leave this space to enter one of the numerous cafes and remember this insane day. Only in this city a person goes through medieval bustle of high street shopping, enter into the deserted streets like a village, back to the bustle of a tourist attractions, goes to a modern and artistic exibition and ends relaxing in ancient habit of smoking a water pipe . It seems too good to be true. Please, someone pinch me...
What (Is)tanbul
In "Western" Europe, Turkey seems a closed, conservative and far country. Prejudice often extended to Istanbul. At best, we have an idea of a distant and exotic city. Nothing could be farther from reality. I noticed this as soon as I descend of the clouds and I first saw "The City". It was a familiar tone that welcomed me. For a moment it seemed that I came back home.
I was not prepared for it. As a result of my own prejudices, I had imagined a morphing city, a gate to more exotic places. And I was really mistaken. The city's name was hand-picked. This is a city that stands on its own. You cannot really describe it. Trying to do it is like catching the wind with your hands. There isn't something that you catch but something that you feel.
So what is Istanbul? It is true that we find people with head scarves. That the horizon is marked by its many mosques, or that the muezzins remind us it is time to pray. But if you only see this, you see a city that doesn't exists.
It is impossible for me to answer my question. It has been difficult to write this text. Perhaps for being the first, or perhaps I feel the responsibility to write about a town that learned to love and respect. Just when I got to Aya Sofia Meydani, a square that mediates the two known mosques, I felt it. Never enjoyed a mosque. Accustomed to very ornate temples, those mosques I went always seemed to me too cold and naked. That changed here. Being in the midst of these mosques is to be in the middle of a match between two monuments. It's a healthy rivalry that muezinns seem to accompany at the time of the call.
In this area we can find three of the most popular attractions of this city at a distance of five minutes. Beyond the Blue Mosque and Ayasofia, there is also the Topkapi Palace. A palace which is worth more for it spaces, architecture and history, than for the beauty of its interior rooms.
As expected, all these sites are full of tourists, and with them appear vendors or "professionals" tour guides. It is a chaotic harmony that lives here. But a person never feels uncomfortable with the constant offerings. It is a fact that at the first opportunity they approach you, but let you go when you don't show interest. As in the well known market, the Grand Bazaar. It is certainly impressive. A world in itself, with its many streets and alleys. It seems another universe, and after 10 minutes we have the impression that we could live without ever leaving inside.
This whole area was a great start to my adventure in Istanbul, but if it was just this, the city wouldn't have much to give. Lucky as I am, I had the privilege of going a little beyond the usual tourist circuit. I owe this to three friends of this wonderful city. And perhaps more than anything that I've seen and experienced, they are the best that this city has to offer: a huge sympathy and an extraordinary pleasure in showing us the best that exists in Istanbul.
The first gave me the experience of eating the best profiteroles in the world. They are in Istikal Caddesi, an avenue similar to our Champs Elysees. In a small pastry (INCI Pastanesi) there is the perfect blend of ingredients that make this sweet. The only danger is that a person can not stop eating and ruin the budget for the trip (although not expensive - 5 lira each). And who knows me knows that I am no fun of sweets, but this site has made me one.
In addition to this experience, I followed her advice to visit two areas of the city: Ortaköi and Vali Konagi Caddesi. The first is a neighborhood full of cafes and commerce. It is close to Bogazici Köprüsü, one of the bridges linking Europe to Asia. From here we can make a small one hour cruise on the Bosphorus and admire the beautiful houses and landscapes that are located on its banks.
The area of Vali Konagi Caddesi is a commercial area and without many (or no) tourists. A great place to see this city moving. I spent a great Saturday afternoon and finished in a cafe: The Coffee House. Although not traditional, serves food that satisfies all your senses. It is a quiet place, in Atiya Sokagi No. 10, a transverse to Tesvikie Caddesi (that parts from Vali Konagi), consisting of chic restaurants and cafes located in the apartments of this street. Here we find a lot of glamor and style, and realize that the image sold in "Western" Europe is so unrealistic.
The second friend gave me a great night spent in Tophane,smoking Nargile and talking. And above all, getting know a little more reality in this country and culture. Although the trip still is at the beginning, this is one of the moments that I will never forget. Here I witnessed live the great sympathy of this people. Spending a night in this area is itself an experience. Passing it in the company of the people I met, is something extraordinary and that I will keep forever in my heart.
Finally, the third person gave me the opportunity to do a night walk between Tophane - which is on the north - and Sultanahmet - the city's historic district on the south. Between words, I learned how this city is more liberal than many European counterparts, or as in the Galata Bridge, dozens of fishermen spend their time fishing for pleasure. In my eyes they would be professional, because of the commitment that they pursue this activity. However the reality is that it is for passion that they do it. And at this time of the night there is almost a parallel world. People are around a bonfire while others sell food. A self-sustaining world and a very passionate one.
And perhaps that is what this city is: passionate. As I said earlier, I don't know the answer. Maybe a little of everything. Millions of lives that cross these streets, and little by little, turn this city into something unique. Here, I do not see a bridge between East and West. I don't even see the exotic. Here, I see a city that is unique and worth as a whole. I see unparallel sympathy and a place to which I could call home. This is "The City", and I think that after this experience I will bring Istanbul with me. In an inexplicable way it also became my city. Perhaps this is Istanbul ...
1.11.11
Welcome to my great adventure! With a German punctuality, my journey began at 00:01 of the day 1.11.11. I didn't do it on purpose. It jus happen to take the train thatarrived at the airport on that moment. Nice coincidence.
After a journey of four hours, my body demanded its dose of nicotine. And like any good German station, the yellow zone marked my safe haven. No sooner I had lit my cigarette and Mediterranean voices filled the void of station. A woman in a head scarf fired some incomprehensible words, and another tried to keep her hellish pace.
The first points to the clock above me and tell me something in German. "No deutch" I reply, to which she returns with a "No English." But the language barrier did not dissuaded her and soon we were having a brief and strange conversation. I find that one is Turkish with lots of bags and the other is Neapolitan, who was helping (maybe even a little forced). Both awaited the next train and wanted to know if they had time to smoke. A company that lasted the length of a cigarette and we each of us went in our separate ways.
I finally enter the airport and find it naked. Only a few wandered the aisles while many people were preparing for another day in one of the most international airports of Europe - Frankfurt. Without open cafes and with 25 kilos to carry, I decide to sit on a bench. My makeshift bed. At first I was a little shy, but after a while, tiredness already spoke louder and I slept the best I could.
I awoke to the sound of movement and surrounded by people who waited for the first flight and wanted me to turn my bed into sitting places. And with this hint, I was dealing with my "red tape" and get 20 kilos lighter. Now, without further to do, wandered around the cafes and shops until I reached the gate that was in my ticket. With one hour to burn and an inviting free chairs I had a little nap. I woke up and decided to check whether the ticket was correct. Things you do when you crave something. Look once to the screen and quickly rub my eyes. Check it again and didn't want to believe it: ten minutes remaining and the gate is different from my ticket. The time passed very quickly this time. Things that stress does. When I realized I was inside the plane.
The journey of three hours were passed with much nervousness. The adventure was about to start and all the fears came into my head. How do I deal with visas? How do I find the hostel? Will I be able to do anything? For a moment I had a panic attack. But as fast as it appeared, it disappeared. The image of what I was doing calmed me. And as I descended through the clouds that covered Istanbul, the only thing that I was eager was to see the first image of this beautiful city ...
