We've a Date in Constantinople

(Photos pending - sorry!)

...and they're waiting in Istanbul.

Turkey is great to share with friends - in April as well as on Thanksgiving.

The cast of loveable characters for our Turkish segment has doubled to include our dear friends "Wee Little" Anne Gregerson and F. Stephen Griffiths. Since our rendezvous in Sultanahmet, Istanbul, we've been having our fun and doing our best not to see the interior of a Turkish prison.

We've been enjoying a healthy bit of cuisine and nightlife with our new company - in parts of Istanbul, being an American traveler bears an odd celebrity status; the restaurant wait staff is attentive to the point of badgering:

"Where do you live in America?"
"Well, we're all moving to Chicago."
"Wow, I have family in New Jersey!" (Pause, expecting a response or hug, as if our lives are now intimately intertwined.)
"Okay, great. Well, we love it here in Istanbul. We're here for four nights."
"You need more time!"

That's probably true - in our first full day in the city we visited the fifteenth-century Topkopi palace and Blue Mosque, then spent the entire afternoon in the Grand Bazaar; while we enjoyed the rapid-fire sightseeing, it's it's best digested with some more intersperced strolls/sprawls in the squares, Turkish coffee, and apple tea.

The palace illustrated some of the more bizarre aspects of Otoman culture - we snapped a photo (coming soon) of the gents posing in the "circumcision pavillion" which is adjacent to the harem balcony where they sultan's concubines and their eunuch guardsmen overlooked a pol of jester dwarves playing in small boats. Yeah, that about sums it up.

The bazaar may be the most eclectic, colorful, and at times confusing market we've seen. Shop attendants shout:

"My friend, where are you from?"
"Hello, can I please show you something?"
"Can I please have a minute of your time? Just a minute?"

Anne and Steve seemed a bit conflicted at times; as much as Anne desired, she clearly couldn't dignify them all with a polite "sorry, my good sir, but we're just window shopping. Perchance on our next pass through this corridor, we'll peruse your wares," so this amiable Minnesotan had to politely smile and nod instead.

One lucky shopowner sang a different song: "May I show you how to spend your money on things you don't need?"

Anne laughed and quickly purchased a bracelet.

We sat down for supper in the Taxim district and looked hungrily over the apertif tray - hot "pide" bread, battered shrimp, babaganoug, stuffed grape leaves, brains, green salad... wait, brains?!?

We met our match and have finally drawn the line. So let it be known...

We eat everthing above this line:


Everything but Brains
----------------------
Brains


We do not eat brains. We did, however, appreciate the seafood service policy: pay less for more meat. They achieve this by serving the fish intact - you filet it and pick the meat out yourself.

Anne and Steve made us a small "Chicago packet" of maps, with their Wrigleyville pad plotted for our apartment shopping reference. We're pretty sure they want us to live slocally so we can cook them dinner. But they'll probably order cable, so we have our reasons, too.

Up next: Cappadocia, Central Turkey.

Cretans Wıthout a Cause

(Photos pendıng... and sorry about the ı's - on a Turkısh keyboard.)

We left our hotel ın Chanıa yesterday evenıng ın search of some grılled octopus (we heard ıt's good here) and perhaps some Rakı (clear lıquor fermented from grapes). As fate would have ıt, we found so much more.

As we walked along the seasıde, we came upon a small market and saw some prospectıve olıvewood souvenırs ın the storefront, so we entered.

We nosed around for the better part of a mınute and started to walk out; we do thıs for hours down the streets - ıts our equıvalent of channel-surfıng whıle travelıng.

As we entered, the shopowner (a whıte-bearded Cretran) polıtely offered us a sample of the honey he harvested from the nearby mountaıns.

Why not, rıght? Here's why not: because ıt's so good that you need to buy ıt, and you'll purchase so much that ıt's a bıt heavy, and you may not have luggange space; and then, even ıf ıt fıts, ıt mıght not get past USA customs; and ıf ıt does, you'll start eatıng ıt wıth apples, then wıth other fruıts, then on a loaf of bread, then you'll need more and more untıl fınally ıt runs out, and you're usıng a spatula, then your hands to get the last drop of nectar, but your hand doesn't fıt ın the jar - a year later, you fınd yourself traffıckıng honey overseas and cırcumventıng several US customs and trade laws, and you have to lıve ın fear of gettıng locked away - forever.

After some consıderatıon, we bought a .5kg jar of The Honey. The owner advısed us to purchase an avocado and eat ıt wıth The Honey, so we ate ıt on the steps of the lıghthouse before dınner.

Perhaps you, reader, wıll joın us for a small pastry wıth a small (small) dallop of The Honey.

To be contınued - thıngs to do ın Istanbul!

Crete

Crete - historically, home to the Minoan civilization, Daedalus, Icarus, and the Minotaur; presently home to us and a handful of relaxed Greeks.


Our itinerary affords us three nights on the island but that's not enough by a longshot. Our dilemma: the cities, ruins, and natural/geological sights we want to see are spread out along the island (it's a four-hour drive from East to West), we're not rich enough to taxi it everywhere, and we're too strapped for time to rely on the public, intercity, bus system. Our solution: we rented a car.


There she is - our Hyundai - less than $100 for three days with full insurance. Yeah, she's a real beaut'. We named her Kidney Bean, but more recently, we've been calling her K-Bean, or more commonly, Beans.


Boy, it's fun to drive here. No (enforced) speed limits, scenic cliffside drives with huggable turns and switchbacks, and the other drivers politely share the road.


So we spent our first day at the Palace of Knossos, the hub of the Minoan civilization, where we saw the world's first amphitheatre, the world's first paved road, the remains of 3500-year-old frescoes, and the remains of 3500-year-old indoor plumbing, which in its antiquity would still probably function better than parts of present-day Cambodia. We speak from experience.

We walked the beach and ruins of Malia, spent the night in Stalida, then departed for Western Crete the next morning.


Beans got us safely to Rethymnon, a small Venitian city, where we awed ourselves with the most impressive parallel parking - ever (pictured above). The locals who witnessed this feat begged us to pose so they might craft a public monument in our honor; but alas, we only had time to walk the harbor and "old town" and hit the Cretan road.


We reached Chania, the oldest Cretan city, by early afternoon, which is where we'll spend the evening. This city has been pillaged by Turks and Venitians, but both were kind enough to leave harbors, lighthouses, and other monuments in their wake.


We're going to get cleaned up and cause some trouble tonight, since we're splitting town back Eastward tomorrow morning.


Is it Saturday? We think it might be Saturday.


Everyday is Saturday. (Contented sigh).

Eudaimonia

The ancients spent much of their time, their conversations, and their wine trying to define "Eudaimonia," or the good life.

Instead of trying ourselves to define it, we'd just as soon spend our Athenian time living it, with lazy strolls through ruin-strewn parks, climbs to scenic hills, a little bit of museum education, and long meals of umbrella-shaded rickety cafe tables.

The Athens Archaeological Museum sports a massive collection of three millenniums of Greek sculptures and reliefs. Traversing the artifacts in chronological order illustrates the Greek understanding and appreciation of the human form. They begin where the Egyptians left off - stoic figures hesitantly stepping their left foot forward with their arms pressed tightly against their sides. Within half a century, as Greece grew and diversified, the statues relaxed their legs apart, they cast their arms upwards to grasp tridents and bind their hair, and their faces softened into arrogant smiles. All this by 500 B.C.

The acropolis is the most popular Athenian sight - the Parthenon, a temple to Athena, is the most popular structure therein. It's pretty big, sure - but the pediments were the most significant features, and they're tucked away in a museum now. Our favorite acropolis spot is the Erechtheum, the most holy ancient site. Mythology maintains that this is where deities Poseidon and Athena competed to become the patron God of the city. Poseidon struck the ground with the butt of his trident and made a huge gash in the floor; Athena created an olive tree - you can tell by the city's name that she won (and you'd have to agree if you're a fan of kalamata olives or dirty martinis).

From the acropolis, we followed the ancient paths (or what remains of them) down to the ancient theatres, and further downward to the ruins of the Athens agora, once the site of the marketplace, legal buildings, and the corners where Socrates and Aristotle rapped about Eudaimonia.

If you have a little imagination, you'll probably be most impressed with the Temple of Olympian Zeus. The Corinthian columns stand 17m high, but only fifteen of the original 104 still remain (see picture of Sara in previous entry).

We've been privileged enough to sit and journal at these sites (we're sitting on agora rubble as we write in our notebooks) and enjoy the sun - it's a delightful precursor to a late dinner of olives and Baklava (the Mediterranean dessert, not the mountaineering facial accessory).

We did upload the photos for Kilimanjaro and the safari, in case you haven't seen them yet.

Up next: Crete.

Thank Zeus...

We couldn't have visited Athens at a more perfect time - both in the context of our vacation as well as the season of the year.

Greece is a fitting chaser for our double-shot of blistering-hot Middle East desert. They have calm breezes, birdsongs, green grass, wide pedestrian-only boulevards, mixed salads, and mmm-azing olives and feta cheese. Had we visited Athens first, we may not have as fully appreciated the fresh cuisine, temperate climate, and the fact that we're not readily identifiable as foreigners by our skin and features alone. That said, we've designated this city and the next two (on Crete) our actual "Honeymoon" spots.

The evening we arrived from Cairo we spent on foot, visiting the cafe neighborhoods of Thisso and Plaka, bordering the ancient acropolis.

We dined at a traditional restaurant in Plaka and shared our first carafe of wine since leaving the USA (not including the one Rebecca and Sara split in Ha Long Bay). We were finally able to "unwind" in this more familiar, decadent country after our seven-week nomadic bustle through less-familiar cultures involving asceticism, national religious fervor, zen, or precarious authoritarian rule.

We're amidst a much-needed laundry errand - Plusimo is the Greek pronunciation of Washing. Use it well.

Luxor

Luxor stems from the Arabian word for palaces for which the Arabian invaders mistook the plethora of Egyptian temples. The Greeks called it Thebes, but the proper ancient name was Waset.

All this and more we learned from our private tour guides at the Nile-side temples and Valley of the Kings.

In our first 24 hours in Luxor, we hired a car to visit the Temple of Luxor as well as the West Bank, a sprawling desert necropolis containing the Valley of Kings, Valley of Queens, and Valley of Nobles. These burial chambers were carved out well after the pyramids, and are much more descretely situated to thwart tomb robbers.

...In fact, when they opened Tutankhamon's tomb, they had to let the poisonous, stagnant air escape for a whole week before entering - and even after that, Howard Carter and fifty servants died of lungh problems. It sounds one step worse than a road trip with Trevor.

The tourist hassling here is pretty bad; you need to be parmed with patience, humor, and "la shu-kran" - which means "no, thank you" in Arabic.

---

A man siting on a ledge hops down to and begins following you as you walk by...

"You want felucca ride?"
"La, shu-kran."
"Is good price. You want to know how much?"
"La, shu-kran."
"Twenty pounds Egyptian. Good price!"
"La, shu-kran."
(His arms flail, his voice with some anger...)
"Why?! Is good price!"
(You quicken your pace, he stops walking.)
"You lucky man - sex lady! Woof-woof!"

---

Two-out-of-three times, the man will shout: How many camels for your wife?!?

So that's all good for a chuckle, but it's frustrating if you're amidst an intriguing conversation or romantinc Nile sunset stroll, since this occurs every five minutes as men offer taxis, carriage rides, cigarettes, and cold beverages.

Additionally, it's extremely hot here. We don't have the exact figures, but we know it's well over 100 F, and it's sometimes even hot enough to wilt our ambition and make us say "let's just go sit in the shade for a bit." We've each drained over three liters of bottled water per day, and we're still suffering from mild dehydration. It's almost as bad as a St. Louis Summer.

Our favorite Luxor sight is the Karnak Temple complex, the largest Egyptian religious monument, revised over 4000 years by the Egyptians, Macedonians, Greeks, and Coptic Christians (the latter was unfortunately quite destructive). Some of the temple ceiling is still supported by the forest of massive columns that dominated the temple interior, and portions of original paint still adorn the carvings and the blue-with-yellow-asterisk-stars ceiling.


One wall carving (at left) appears quite frequently on the temple's outer facade - the reigning king holding a dozen foreign prisoners by their long hair - with one hand, simultaneously - and beating them ferociously with a club. Oh, and the king is smiling, too. It must have served as an effective welcome mat to neighboring civilizations.

Having viewed all of our target sights we're going to walk the Luxor streets for the remainder of the day until tonight's "sleeper train" to Cairo, and tomorrow's flight to Athens, Greece.

Care to spend a few thousand on last-minute airfare and meet us there? We'd love to have you.

(This is where you say "La, Shu-kran.")

Float like an Egyptian

The ancients mined granite from the southern province of Aswan and floated it northward on the Nile via "feluccas," small sailboats with massive, curved sails. We signed up to sail from Aswan to Luxor (ancient Thebes) up the Nile. The trip includes meals and two nights of sleeping under the starts on the Nile. We weren't sure how many others would accompany us on our trip, what we'd eat, or what sort of service to expect, given the inexpensive price.

We spent our pre-felucca morning in Aswan, visiting the Temple of Philae and the Aswan High Dam, the third largest dam in the world, behind Brazil and China. Egypt only uses the power generated by one of the two turbines - it exports the rest of its power (hope you're taking notes, Mr. Spottiswoode). That's a whole lot of dam electricity!


As it turns out, there were eight passengers on our felucca, ourselves included: three non-native Londoners, two Argentinians, and an Aussie pilot working in Chad. Yeah, these eclectic tour groups all start to sound like the beginning of a joke.

A felucca is more of a floating sofa than a sailboat - instead of benches or tables, there's just a massive mat and pillows, with a canopy to shield you from the 45 C (that's 123 F) degree sun. At times, however, the mat isn't quite massive enough, especially when you're sleeping eight adults. That's our boat at left.


We had a lot of Nile to cover, a deck of cards, and several cases of Egypt's own Sakkara lager. The next day slipped away amidst some Euchre, Kings, camel meat, falafel, and lots of pita bread.

Sorry, it looks like we lost you at camel meat. We passengers were faced with the decision of whether the crew should cook camel for the second (final) supper, and the unanymous decision was "uh, sure." We ate it stewed with rice in its own broth, and it tasted like mutton.


Sara's reaction: Eh, too gamey.
Scott's reaction: Scr-hump-tious!


Packed full with camel and Sakkara, we and the crew prepared a bonfire, broke out the drums, and cut loose to some rip-roaring Egyptian song-and-dance. Another felucca's crew joined in, and we had three generations of Egyptians singing their folk songs with enthusiastic Arabic arm-waves and robe-ruffling kicks. For certain, their performance was as much for their own entertainment as for ours, but it was nonetheless a delightful cultural exchange. Plus, we learned how to sing She'll Be Coming 'Round the Mountain in Arabic.




The next morning came a little too soon. We disembarked at Kom Ombo (once famous for its massive crocodiles) and explored the Temple of Subek, the Egyptian crocodile god. On the police convoy (the only way for tourists to drive intercity) northward to Luxor (Thebes), we stopped in Edfu to visit the incredibly well-preserved Temple of Horus.


Luxor awaits us now with its expansive desert and its "Valley of the Kings." There's a lot of negative tales of the hassling and frustrations of Luxor, but we'll grit our teeth and smile again, and get back at you with the news.

Sorry for the delay in posting stuff - we really appreciate that you all are keeping abreast with our travels. Congrats on the apartment, Anne & Steve - keep your eyes peeled for a Friedman pad!