A Year Ago

It is insane to think that it was a year ago when I was in Turkey. Can you believe it's been that long? Life has taken me on some incredible adventures and every moment that I spent in that fascinating country was rich, beautiful, and full of intrigue. But there is one memory to which I return frequently. 

It was the day we spent at the Christian Caves in Cappadocia. There was a moment when I went ahead of my group and did some exploring and hiking on my own. There were all sorts of enormous bolders and caves stacked upon one another. It was late in the afternoon, the sun was starting to go down and I climbed atop a tall rock. There was at least 15 feet between the top of the ledge I settled upon to the paths below. The sprawling, white and golden sand landscape littered with the towers of stone lay out before me. There were no visible human settlements, no signs of condos, cars, or industrialization. It could have been 1500BC and yet here we were in 2014. It was a land untouched by time and human hands, though it was a highly popular tourist destination.

A beautiful and powerful emotion filled me. I remember thanking God for all of the blessings in my life, for giving me the opportunity to see another corner of the world, and for the awe-inspiring beauty of our planet. I could have sat in that spot for hours, watching the sunset roll over the earth paving the way for the starts to emerge. That spot, those hours of twilight that my companions and I spent in that place those are feelings and images that will live forever in my mind as bright and as real as the present. 

Again, my dear readers, I could not have made that trip without YOUR help and support. I know I haven't written as much as I used to, but please know that I'm not giving up on this blog and I hope that you don't either. I write to share a moment of peace or two with you. I hope that you are able to glean a little smile or to escape from the troubles of your day with the little blurbs of mine.

Until next time.

Your humblle author,

S. Faxon

 

Turkish Tea Time

 After a full week of unnnesessarliy warm weather, we've finally come to a break in the heat. Fall is in the air. I'm sitting outside watching Bella Tuna take her morning stroll, and I'm getting some fresh air in hopes that my cough that can wake the dead will be healed by the delightfully pleasant weather. 

Bella Tuna working out some of her boundless energy.

Yep, for those of you who tuned in last week my valiant batle against a sinus infecction has not ceased. It's getting a bit frustrating to be bested by a cold for this long. Any cold cure tips out there? If any of you have a "this is what mom had us do as kids" remedies, feel free to leave your suggestions in the comments section and I'll be more than happy to try any of them.

You likely noticed that this week's post is entitled "Turkish Tea Time;" allow me to elaborate: On Saturday night, my family hosted a "Welcome home" party for me, in which I shared with them a Turkish style meal. With the wonderful help of my mom, we put together a beautiful spread, trying to replicate the experience that I had in Turkey in our very own backyard.

As I've said in previous posts, one of the primmary reasons for my visit to Turkey was to bring back the cultural lessons that I've learned to the States to share with as many people as possible. I think that this will become a standard practice for me after every country that I visit. Otherwise, if I learn about all of these amazing cultures, people and places, what good would it be to anyone if I selfishly keep what I learn to myself?

So, with my mom and an exceptionally large amount of tissues and hand wipies with me to help contain my cold, we scoured San Diego in search of Turkish goodies. From the International Market on Balboa Avenue we found bread, rose jam, and Turkish Delights.

From North Park Produce also on Balboa Avenue I bought Middle Eastern tea cups, they weren't Turkish style exactly. Turkish style are tulip shaped without a handle. These are tulip shaped, but have handles, which is fine.

The teacups that I purchased. 

I also purchased the fresh produce from this shop and some freshly baked Baklava. Yum.

For the feast, my mom and I prepared Turkish meatballs, Shepherd Salad, and a dill/cucumber yogurt dip. The rest was fresh or already made. 

The spread also included: spicy mixed olives, a creamy, salty cheese, flat bread, peaches, cherry juice (called "vishna" in Turkish) pomegranate vinegar, and lemons.

The spread.

We all sat down around the table and I explained to my family that for Shepherd salad, which is a culmination of essentially whatever veggies you have, you start by pouring on the olive oil, then the vinegar and then lemon. This is the Turkish way of serving it. I then showed them how to sprinkle fresh mint over the meatballs and to eat them with the yogurt dip. To our delight we discovered that the cheese and the rose jam on the bread made an exceptionally yummy treat. 

As we enjoyed ourself on the fine dining, I went inside to start the tea. Turkish tea is a process and a time honored tradition. While I currently do not have the proper tea making equipment, I'm making due with what I have. Once I have access to the proper tea kettle/pot combo I will go into greater detail as to how to make Turkish tea. But, essentially you let water boil and then pour it over loose tea leaves and then you let those tea leaves settle for 17 minutes. Yes, it is specific and this is how I was taught in Turkey. It varies from family to family. Once the tea is done steeping, you pour the tea in the cup, but only to the thinest part in the glass, then you fill the rest witih hot water. 

This is an image of the tulip shaped tea cups in Turkey - see how the middle becomes thin? That's the line to which you fill up with tea. The rest is filled with water. And yes, the cups are hot to the touch. On one evening, one of the gentlemen with whom we were dining noticed that I couldn't hold my tea cup so he improvised a tea cozy/sleeve for me out of a napkin, which I should have figured out to do, but alas, I hadn't yet enjoyed caffein. 

My dad and I brought out the tea on a lovely tea tray that I bought from Goodwill and we served the tea with sugar cubes and lemon. The best way to have the tea is to sweaten to taste, squeeze the lemon and then drop it inside the glass. The tea time was lovely and we all shared many laughs.

After tea we all went inside for coffee and treats. Turkish coffee, of course. Amid my coughs and snuffles all week, I'd been practicing the art of making Turkish coffee. I cannot tell you how many videos I watched in attempt to figure out this process and of course, no two videos are the same. BUT I am a thorough researcher, so after compiling my findings I thought I had found a descent process for me to follow.

Turish coffee is made in an "Jezvet," (photo below) and one made out of copper is the best. It is served in small, espressso sized cups as seen here:

In the photo, you see the white Turkish delight. It is a nice accompanyment to the coffee.

Here is the link to the video that was the most instructive toward how to make Turkish coffee and this instructor can explain the process much better than I. http://youtu.be/OOaI8JC1_EE 

While making the coffee myself, I was trying to explain the process to Victoria (my best friend) only to fail miserably on several attempts. I spilled coffee all over the stove top and I completely messed up the  ratio of water to coffee. Luckily for me, my family was not paying attention and it is customary for Victoria and me to laugh almost uncontrollably when we are together, so the status quo did not seem altered enough to gain attention.

On the third try, I managed to make a passable cup of Turkish coffee. I served it to my family with the traditional Turkish delight on the side. 

I failed to tell my family not to stir the coffee because there are dust-sized coffee grinds on the bottom of the cup and stirring them up makes drinking difficult. However, I did tell them not to swig the last sip because they'd have a mouthful of grinds. Alas, my parents did not receive the message. However, we shared many laughs and the food was wonderful. 

Victoria and my sister Amanda learning about Turkish food culture.

My family truly enjoyed the experience and they were abel to learn about a culture new to them. We went through a slide of the photos from the trip, which further allowed me to talk about Turkish culture and the current happenings in the country. 

Me feeling right at home (literally) feeling like a professor while sharing my experiences with my family.

The evening was a great success and as I happily shared the culture with my family, I hope that you too are inspired to go out and learn about a culture foreign to you. Go on, go and try it! You will likely be delightfully surprised with what you find. And please, by all means, share your experiences, your culture, or your family recipes with us here in the comment section at the Weekly Read! 

Now please excuse me, I have to go save a lizard from Bella.

Lizard that Bella kidnapped and took all over the backyard. He's mostly in one piece and now contently catching his breath in a lemon tree.

Until next week,

Your humble author,

S. Faxon

The Return of the Fellowship

Once more we found ourselves awaking in Istanbul. It was nice sleeping in a room that was familiar and that we would call our own for the next two nights. Traveling is a lot of fun, but living out of a suitcase becomes tiresome.

Mesut had a full day planned for us, so we were up with the roosters and ready for action. Unfortunately, breakfast was not. We were supposed to eat at and leave at 7:30, but we didn't end up eating until 7:30 and then not leaving until 8. Now, that may not seem like a drastic difference, but in Istanbul, traffic is horrific. Those of you who ride the 8 West freeway in the morning or the 805 north would be the envy of commuters in Istanbul. 

Due to the time that was drained from us on the roads, we were unable to meet our appointment at Zaman newspaper. If you are not familiar with them, they are one of the best sources of news in Turkey and they are not linked to the government. Freedom of the press is unfortunately not a luxury enjoyed in Turkey.

We ended up going instead to Fatih University, our second appointment, which was a bit of a drive anyway. The day was already half way taken by the time we reached the university, but the meeting ended up being very rich. Fatih is a university that teaches universal and inclusive education. The student population is extremely diverse, which is understandable considering that over 114 countries are represented by those students. You can tell by the paintings in the main entrance alone that this university's focus is on producing students who are open minded, well educated, and aware of the world around them.

We had a meeting with a professor and a high ranking member of the admin. We discussed the programs, academically and socially available to the students. The students are extremely well trained in their fields of study and they are also exposed to the wide range of issues in the world. However, political activism can not be apart of student life in Turkey, due to reasons beyond the capacity of the schools to address.

The meeting room. 

 We were particularly interested in the way that the students are encouraged to celebrate their differences by learning about each other. The students come from a number of countries that have been at odds with one another, but there are no issues between the students, only friendship. The administer suggested that I come back and do research on their model of building bridges and I just may have to.

We were taken to the student social justice organization that has hosted a number of fundraising and awareness events in the mere 18 years that the school has been in operation.

The wall highlighting a number of the evenets that the student run org has organized.

We then proceeded to the global studies room where a large map stood with big red pins sticking out of it indicating where the international students were from. The USA was represented on the map, which was encouraging. The previous university that we visited did not as of yet have any American students. For my teen readers, look internationally for universities. Most have English taught alssrooms, but don't forget to look into that somewhat important detail.

We explored the campus a little bit and after I made a suggestion that a mound of dirt on campus be turned into a sustainability garden (had to let my California roots be exposed at some point during this venture), we loaded back in the bus and headed off to see the Grand Bazaar. Shoppin' time.

In the heart of Istanbul, right across the street from that bustling fish market we visited on our second day, is the world famous Grand Bazaar. I was excited for this part, not so much for the shopping, but to see the vendors, their products, to weave among the crowds. To watch, to observe, to see, listen, smell. And it was awesome.

I was sooo enchanted by the experience, that I forgot to take photos, but I'm sure my companions took quite a few and I'll eventually post those on here. However, this is the mosque beside the bazar and it was the most beautiful that we visited yet. We visited the beautiful mosque after the bazaar and we all took a moment to appreciate that we were in a mosque on September 11th. My companions and I said many times that there was no better place for us to be than in a primarily Muslim country on 9/11. For the sake of our country's continued healing process and for the continuation of building bridges between cultures, more and more of these types of immersion activities are needed. Again, as the famous philosopher Fethullah Gulen said, "Muslims are not terrorists, and terrorists are not Muslim." (I'm going to tell more about Mr. Gulen tomorrow, but if you're curious about him and cannot wait, look up his book "Love & Tollerance". It's a beautiful read.)

How to describe the Grand Bazaar? 

If you've been to China town in New York City during the summer time, consider that a quaint version of the GB. The majority of the popular vendors are in a covered atrium. Aisles upon aisles weave this way and that with a hundred vendors on either side runnning this way and that. Thousands of people occupy the space, some trying to buy, many trying to sell. Men called "teamen" run around with a dozen glass tea cups filled to the top on a dangling tray. I asked one of the vendors how that is possible and he responded, "That's nothing. The real good teamen can spin the whole tray over their head and not spill a drop." I think I could take about three steps and then manage to destroy every last cup through a series of unfortunate events. 

One gentlemen we passed at a shop asked a lady, "Hello, how can I take your money today?" He made us all laugh and smile and you could tell that was his ploy. 

Every spice you could imagine lined the walkways in tall overflowing barrels. Olives, cheeses, honey, honey comb, were laid out in beautiful displays. Every type of Turkish delight you could imagine were sold in a variety of packs and sizes. Much more of the shops than I realized sold high quality items, like purses, linens, attire. But of course there were your typical touristy items, knock-offs, and your general chotskies. Mesut caught one vender trying to sell California figs as Turkish figs. The vender blushed and proceded to push another product.

We walked out from the central bazaar to the surrounding streets where the air was fresher and the products more diverse and practical. I came close to buying a pair of pants and a tea set, but I didn't want to carry it, so I held my money. We went to a fresh orange juice stand and everyone was able to enjoy some freshly squeezed orange juice, pulpy goodness and all! 

As we were heading out we were stopped by a vendor selling those alien like head massagers. Mesut had never seen one before and the vendor did the demonstration on him. Margie bought one on the spot, but without any of us realizing it until later, Mesut purchased one too and was happily walking down the street massaging his head as he went. These items are attention grabbers - Margie had hers out and a different vendor stopped her on the street. "Is that one of those massagers?!" he asked, unable to contain his curiosity and excitement. He used it and we all had a good laugh.

Some people might find the bazaar to be an overwhelming experience and they may think that all of the vendors are greedy individuals looking for anyway to rob you, but that was not what I felt at all. I found the vendors to be extremely friendly and great fun. I greeted them all in Turkish and if I did not get the opportunity to say hi first many of them greeted me in Spanish. The language either way would start conversation and while my companions were window shopping, I had many great brief conversations with the vendors. I did end up purchasing a lovely porcelein plate.

Friends that we knew from the States met us at the bazaar and came to dinner with us. The bus ride to the restaurant was terrifying - people walk out in front of cars with a "you won't hit me" 'tude. Oslam, our friend who met us, told me that many people in Istanbul die because of car v. pedestrian accidents. While a terribly sad fact, after what I'd seen I wasn't surprised. On this car ride alone, our driver made a U-turn on a steep hill across traffic in a big, top heavy van. It was one of those moments where you want to watch, but you're afraid to see what will happen. I was just grateful that we had seatbelts.

We all made it in one peace inside the restaurant and we enjoyed yet another fine meal. The chefs put on a little show for us and they were happy to take photos with our group as well. I know that I've said it before, but the welcome and light attitudes of the Turkish people were always so refreshing and ever present. There was not one grumpy-guss throughout our excursion. I'm sure of course that there must be people in Turkey who are not as pleasant as the people we encountered, but we didn't meet them.

And then it was time to go back to the dorm and crash. We had one more day of meetings for which to prepare.

Until next time my dear readers..

Your humble author,

S. Faxon

The Love of Rumi - Part 2

This is going to be a bit of a windy one so brew your favorite cup of tea, coffee or have a treat handy and settle in for our next day's adventure.

In the United States, we have a hymn called 'Amazing Grace', throughout the course of this cross-cultural mission I have often thought on it, particularly so on our journey through Nigde (pronounced 'needeh'). The evening and the morning that we spent with the amazing people there did not end at our previous interval.

After receiving numerous gifts and surprises, we all walked down together to stand on the stairs for a group photo. While standing there, an eruption of golden sparkletts burst from either side of the steps. As if the night hadn't been magical enough!

From there we bid good night to one another, then Carole and I loaded into the car of our host family and drove off to their home. This was the night to which I had been most looking forward; spending the night with a family. 

The sweet family who hosted us had three children, two of which were older. The daughter, Sedah (I sure hope I spelled that right!), spoke English and she was our translator. 

When we arrived at their home, we were taken into a beautiful house. Many of the houses here are relatively humble on the inside, but once you step in through the door you see beauty that is neither opulent or over the top. The interiors are well decorated, typically with designs of gold, but in our experience, regardless of the vestments, you instantly feel comfortable, like you've stepped into your own home. Turkish culture is like that. I thought about all of the uptown houses I've been to in New York, where you usually felt more comfortable touching things in a museum than in their condos. 

Anyway, we were lead to their upper, covered patio where we sat with Mehmet, our host, his wife and Sedah. As we walked through their living room I saw that Sedah's little brother who was probably around 7 had instantly logged into his tablet and was in his own little technological world. I joked with Sedah that no matter where you go around the world, children are the same. 

With the wonderful help of Sedah the group of us talked about California, San Diego, their travels, what they did and their future plans. Mehmet had been to the States a number of times and when we showed photos of California and our families, he brought out a place mat or something like that, which was a map of the Golden state. The conversations were a lot of fun and it was enjoyable communicating through photos and with the assistance of Sedah. Carole and I were impressed with Sedah's plan to study international business. She has a bright, bubblly personality and I'm glad we were able to meet one another and hopefully we will stay in touch. 

Amid the conversation, Mehmet excused himself and we quickly realized that the surprises of Nigde were no where near over yet. 

From behind us a plate of ice cream and baklava were placed in front of us. There is something you have to understand about Turkey - the ice cream here is simply superior. My companions and I have become obsessed with the ice cream, which I later learned to ask for in Turkish ('dondurum lutfen!"). And the baklava here is different - it is made with sugar and water, not honey, so the texture and sticky goodness of it is slightly different than that of which we are familiar in the States. Another and largely more important thing to understand about Turkey is that it is a part of the culture to feed people, guests in particular. Wherever we went in Turkey we heard the expression that roughly translated means "guests take 9 things; they eat one, and leave 8." I sure hope this was true because boy did we receive in bulk that one proverbial item!

We continued to talk then Mrs. Mehmet also excused herself and then came a variety of nuts, then there was water mellon and I feel as though I am forgetting some other food item, but by the time the mellon came I was just about to burst!

Luckily enough though it was time to sleep. Mehmet and Sedah showed us downstairs where there was what we would refer to as a full "Granny sweet," complete with a decent sized kitchen and bathroom. Sedah joked with us, "This is the American room." Her family hosts over 20 Americans a year. I told her that they were professionals. We were to sleep on the most comfortable pull-out couches that ever were made and as we were settling down, Sedah told us that there was one problem with the shower. The way she said it made me think, "uh-oh; it's a stall outside." Or, "there is no shower." And this was what she said, "It takes a little while for it to warm up." 

Carole and I stared at her for a moment; if that was the only problem, if their house was a hotel it would still receive 5 star ratings from any trip advising site. 

Sedah bid us goodnight and after taking my shower that took maybe a minute to warm up, I settled into bed, google chatted with my mom and sisters, then fell fast asleep.

The next morning, we awoke to see the lovely view of the backyard garden. It was bound to be yet another beautiful day.

Carole and I got ready then headed upstairs. We were scheduled to enjoy breakfast at Mr. Afsar's garden house, the wise elder from the night before. When we went upstairs we sat with Sedah for a little while out on the porch. The view was breathtaking. Beyond the garden where peppers were being laid out to dry for winter, was the face of another titanic mountain that we did not even realize was there. 

As we sat there talking with Sedah, Mehmet surprised us with these enormous blue velvet boxes. Carole and I looked at each other bashfully - the gifts that we brought for our host family PALED in comparison to the grace and the generosity this family bestowed on us. What we received were beautiful plates.

Recall the shop that we went to a few days ago where Margie attempted make the bowl and where all of the pieces were hand made and hand designed? Well, these beautiful plates were of the same nature. Even the backs were signed by the aritists, so these were unique and original pieces. We expressed our extreme gratitude for all that they had done and after we took a photo of the family, we headed out for the garden house where the majority of our new brothers and sisters from the night before would be.

It was a hundred times as epic as it sounds. 

Not only was there a garden full of apples, figs, strawberries, roses and all other amazing, beautiful, breathtaking fauna you could imagine, tucked away inside the garden as if a secret, was the large family home of Mr. Afsar. 

This house was incredible. The mostly wooden interior had a tall, grand fireplace made of a special rock. Orange patterns formed within the grey, and legend tells that the patterns reflect whatever image it was that was before the rock. In several of the patterns we could see faces. It was awesome.

Beside the fireplace a long buffet table stood, covered with a white table cloth and every Turkish breakfast goodie you could imagine.

A long banquet table had been laid out for us, but we all sat around the living room in beautiful chairs. We noticed that there were no tvs and Carlos told us that the Afsar's were a wise generation that found centering a house around a tv to be foolish. I have to say that I agree. 

Once we were all settled in our seats, Mr. Afsar addressed us once more and we learned more about his school and his life. The man is simply incredible. He started his life's career by standing on the side of the street selling furniture. He was a man destined for greatness and determined to design schools with universal education. Universal meaning no discrimination and the exposure to a well rounded education, including academics, music, dance, art, and the appreciation of every person in the world, regardless their differences. I.E. - global citizen making.

We then discussed our backgrounds more and the people were able to hear about our experiences more in depth. But our rumbling tummies and that beautiful feast called. Mr. Afsar stood at the end of the table and made sure that we took a little bit of everything and I found out a little bit later that his daughter had prepared almost the entire feast herself from scratch and from the garden!

The evil eye is a talisman against evil that you see everywhere, in this case, it was guarding the salami for which the region is so famous (and justifiably so!). 

Needless to say, the food was exquisite. I sat next to Fatimah (pronounced Fat'mah", the lovely lady who made the beautiful paintings the night before. She and I had wonderful conversations and I learned from her that Mr. Afsar's daughter was the cook. Fatimah said, "Fatih is a very good cook and very fast!" It took Fatih a few hours to make that meal, it would have taken me days, and I consider myself a good cook/baker.

There was one item in particular that wowed us, I mean it litterally made us say wow. Fatih had made from their garden a rose jam. Stop and think on how incredible that is for a moment. If you don't know how hard it is to make jam, go Google this process and come right back. There's a few reasons why the non-corn syrups, the real organic stuff is expensive State-side. We could not get enough of the jam and later on Mesut would thank Margie for pointing it out because he almost missed it and he too would still be talking about it days later. 

With wonderfully full bellies and finished cups of tea (soooooo much tea! My best friend Victoria would be in seventh heaven) we returned to the couch for yet ANOTHER surprise. 

While we took our seats Margie once more got to play with Mr. Afsar's granddaughter. The elegant woman on the right is the baby's grandma. Fatimah happened to be the lucky winner to hold the sweet little baby for the moment.

One by one we went up to Mr. Afsar to be presented with a wrapped gift. We hugged him and shook his hands and I am certain that the gratitude in our eyes would have been universally understood. We sat down with our wrapped presents and together opened our gifts. Each one of us had our very own kilma - Turkish rugs. Kilma are made from wool and cotton and are absolutely beautiful. I will always think of the grounded warmth of Nigde every single time I walk upon or see that rug. 

The kilma (yes, this picture was taken in my house).

BUT WAIT! There's more! Mr. Afsar had one more gift. He said something to the effect of this although he said it much more eloquently to Rosemary; "Your heart-filled efforts of teaching the general public that Muslims cannot be terroroists and terrorists cannot be muslim are noble and praiseworthy. May Allah bless you and your work." He then presented her the most beautiful rug. Looking around at the faces of the people in the room you could see their appreciation for her efforts of helping to bring light and understanding to our community during dark and grim times for all. Their faces in that moment will truly stay with me for a long time. They will serve as reminders that our efforts and our trials and struggles to build bridges in our own communities are making hugely positive waves around the globe whether we realize it or not.

We took several photos and exchanged business cards, but unfortunately it was time to go. 

While everyone was collecting their things, I wandered out and saw this:

A constant reminder in this house of the brother and sisterhood of our two great nations.

Numerous hugs later, we waved goodbye to our brothers and sisters of Nigde with our henna stamped hands. We all sat reflecting on the grace of those people who treated strangers like kin. I'm sure I'm speaking on behalf of the group that our time in Nigde was the best and that it will stay with us always. The love of Rumi may never have beat more strongly than it does in Nigde.

Cappodocia

The drive to Cappodocia was not long. We were expecting some much needed nap time, but we would not get it until much later in the day.

We stepped out of the bus into the first of many sights for the day. We had arrived at the underground city. 

A humble shepherd discovered the massive underground labyrinth after it had long been swallowed by those mischievous sands of time. The caves were expanded over several centuries and they were designed to be quick get aways for the people in the valley were an invading force to come around. The caves had been used for centuries by a variety of different people, cultures and sects. For example, Christians would use the caves to hide from the Romans and the contemporary people of Cappodocia used some of the caves today as basements or larders for food. They had air shafts, secret doors, doors that locked, doors that they could shoot through, hiding places, food storages, mortars, stairs. It was highly advanced, but the LOTR fan in me kept thinking of us as the Hobbits running from goblins and Belrog.

Our guide showing us the food storage compartments.

Mesut kneeling beside a mortar.

Needless to say, with our group's lively personalities we had more than enough fun squeezing through tiny passageways, avoiding dastardly looking holes in the floor, and quite simply, playing in the caves. It was every child's favorite dream and every adult's secret dream. I know I am not alone in thinking this, but those caves would make for a laser tag arena to end all laser tag arenas. I thought of all the playgrounds that I had been to in my life and none were half as cool (although the ones in NYC were certainly colder) as these caves. I could have played in there for hours. 

From there, it was back in the van again and we went to what felt like Mars. The castles of Cappodocia rose out from the ground and they looked like something out of this world. People used to dwell in these natural structures and today many hotels have capitalized on this idea, filling the ancient miraculous walls with their guests. If this isn't the 8th wonder of the world...

We stayed there for a little while enjoying the view and it was peaceful. There was a small market behind us with many vendors selling that ah-mazing ice cream and all sorts of chotsky, but the area was relatively quiet. From our advantage, we could see the whole valley. I watched the birds soar on the breeze through the rock castles. 

Our next stop from there was the Fairy palaces.

Over time volcanoes and the waters of the sea that once was in this region receded and eventually dried, leaving behind these incredible pillars reaching up to the sky. Some looked like ice cream cones, some looked like mushrooms, and one collection looked like camels. Conveniently enough, there were camels at hand for comparison.

Camel selfie!

We hiked all over the caves and had a wonderful time exploring, Mesut probably more so than any of the other adventurers to visit. I think I've gathered enough evidence to prove that Mesut is part spider. Climbing straight up a vertical wall had something to do with this theory. 

Yes, that is a verticle wall. I made it to about where he was, but then the idea of getting down again made me climb back down. 

Mesut made it to the top of the Fairy world. 

Rosemary appreciating the unbelievable shapes of these structures.

Me getting some hiking and exploring in of my own. 

We hopped back in the van and began to drive to our next stop: lunch! Covered in cave dirt and fairy dust, we went to the Turkish equivalence of a Soup Plantation/Hometown Buffet and it was pretty good. My stomach was a bit on the fritz, so I wasn't able to enjoy as much as I would have liked, but it was enough.

Following this part of Cappodocia we went to see how Turkish rugs are made. We learned about silk worms and the Silk Road and were shown how the young ladies make the rugs by tying a series of thousands of little knots. The rug merchant gave us a presentation that felt too long and there was that awkward "which $1000+ plus rug would you like us to package for you" moment. Needless to say, our needs for rugs were already 1000% satisfied with our rugs from Nigde. 

Our next stop for the day was at the Christian churches in Goreme that had been occupied by monks and adorned with frescos. This place was incredible. I hiked up to the higher and more difficult caves to access where the tourists were far less. The view from the mouths of these caves alone were breathtaking, but the frescos within were deeply moving. 

Our guide showing us the images of the frescos.

Alas, we were not allowed to take photos inside the caves, but I did capture one image of a table, which I justified by saying, "I did not take the photo inside the cave. I took the photo on the outside looking in."

I was glad to have the opportunity to explore the caves by myself for some reflection time. Reflection on the trip and reflection once more for the blessings this earth has to share. It was up here when the song 'Amazing Grace' once more fluttered into my thoughts. Adventures like this where you meet with people believed to be different than yourself and you find instead that your similarities are abundant and the differences beautiful, are what life is all about. This is one of those trips that reinvigorates one's soul to the goodness of mankind and the beauty of this earth. We must protect, preserve, and promote both these lessons.

At last we had our long stretch of a drive and after a long day of hiking it was nap time! I worked on my blog for a short spell, but eventually my eyes grew tired once more.

Once I awoke we were in another city preparing to go to a market, no not the grand bazaar. We had time to kill before dinner and our later flight, so this was a good way to occupy the time. However, it had been raining so there was some discussion among us to see if we should go out or not. Walt's idea of a nice evening did not include shopping and getting wet simultaneously. I was up for any adventure, though I had no intention of making any purchase and eventually we did end up going to the market and of course, none of us bought anything. 

The issues of my stomach pursued and I was not able to eat too much of anything, but I did sample the delicacies of the meal, the eating process of which the waiter demonstrated for us. It was fun having a procedure for eating and preparing the meal for consumption. I only wish I had been feeling better so that I could have gulped it all down.

Back in the van for the last time in this part of the country. We had an 11:00pm plane to catch. 

Constantinople called.

Our flight out of a tiny little airport with 2 women's toilettes, one of which was completely useless to us foreigners who were (and remain to be) ignorant to the art of using the Turkish style toilettes. 

When we arrived back at the dormitories where we first stayed it was almost like coming home. We all took big sighs of relief before tucking into bed after one in the morning. We had yet another big day ahead.

Until the next posting my dear readers,

Your humble and currently exhausted author, 

S. Faxon

Heaven Sent - Day 4

The night passed quickly because we had to be at the Izmir airport by 7 in the morning. Heavy eyed, we loaded ourselves into the bus and made our way to the airport. 

By the time we made it through the double security checks we realized that our tummies were rumbling and that we had plenty of time to grab a bite. Of course, we all beelined (more like beelined like bees who had yet to have coffee) to the Starbucks. And we think it's expensive in the States! None of us were any too impressed by the options, but luckily right across the way was a littlel cafe called Cookies and Cakes. They had a wide selection of Turkish breakfast goodies, so this was where we ate. I was able to order most of my food in Turkish from the cafe bar, which made the servers smile. 

We ate our yummy goodies then headed to the plane. It was a really different experience than that of which I've experienced in the states. We went through the standard ticket line, but then we had to board a bus that took us to the stairs of the plane. We were loaded in both the front and the tail of the plane, which made the passenger loading process much faster.

Our flight was extremely quick and our unloading was done in a flash. We had landed in Antalya, the southern city on the edge of the Mediterranean. Had we known that morning how epic our day was about to become...

So we hopped in our little bus and drove into Antalya, and we were immediately taken by all of the solar panel heated water tanks on top of all the buildings in the city. Mesut informed us that solar panels have been common in Turkey for the last 20 years. There is a bit of a dichotomy here in Turkey - you can really get the sense that the people are energy conscious, what with many of the hotels not allowing you to turn on the AC if the door is opened so much as a crack, but plastic waste is evident everywhere. The people primarily drink bottled water and there are plastic bottles EVERYWHERE. The streets and sidewalks are kept spotless, but if you look over the curbs and over the cliffs, there they are. Not terribly different from many a sad scene surely replicated all over the globe.

The van took us to a college where we met our day's guide over a much needed brunch. Our twenty year old guide was a well spoken young lady who was studying economics and wanted to pursue her master's degree in the States. While Antalya was not her home city, she sure knew the history! She took us to a castle that sat on the edge of the sea. There was a path that led through what is called the old city inside the ancient castle's walls. The castle and mosque was dated back to the 1300s and was highly developed in terms of heating systems and layout. 

In the background of my "Daily selfie" is the tall minerette - one of the trademarks that suggest the ancient age of this mosque is that the minerette is completely detached from the actual mosque. All the city buildings over my left shoulder are the city inside the castle. 

We walked through the madrasa, a school that accompanied a mosque, designed to teach the students about math, science, religion and literature, and we were all hit with a bit of sadness. Inside the beautiful hall, which should have been a museum, was a store full of touristy goods. I thought of the Christian story where Jesus came to the temple to see it turned into a market. From his anger at what had been allowed to happen to the sacred place, Jesus throughout the money changers. I'm sure that many Muslims would have felt the same way about this place.

We left the madrasa and walked through the winding, downward sloping streets of the ancient city. Numerous vendors lined the streets and our guide informed us that this was the way it would have been in the old days.

The path finally leveled out at a bit of an odd place. It was a marina with very strangely decorated ships. I started laughing because of my work with ships, I thought of my fellow crewmates back in San Diego and the laugh they would have gotten from looking at these vessels.

(Yep, that's a Pirates of the Carribean themed boat. Much of the boat was blanketed in Pirates paraphernalia as were the subsequent ships beside it. 

But the ships were very entertaining and a very welcoming sight for me.

To all of our delight, Mesut hopped on board one of the ships. With enormous smiles on our faces, we followed suit. The boat was ours for the following hour and the smiles on our faces and the chorus of our laughter pursued the whole way through. 

The photographer on board asked who wanted to be the first to go out onto the jibboom while the theme from Titanic began to play in the background. So of course, I volunteered to be the first. I tell you, that was one of the most freeing experiences I've ever had. 

Yes, I bought the touristy goodies and I was not alone, because the photographer captured the happiness that was beaming out from all of us. 

Mesut being a daredevil out on the jibboom. 

Rosemary learning from the pro.

Walt, Rosemary, and our sweet guide whose name I cannot presently remember due to severe lack of sleep.

Margie, Carole and Mesut taking in the views. 

Margie and Rosemary with the waterfall and the ancient castle's walls in the background. Many hotels have renovated the ancient walls of the castle and have steps that lead from their rooms straight to the blue waters of the Mediterranean. 

The sighs we saw boating on the Mediterrenean were indescribable. There was the Taurous mountains, waterfalls, castles, caves, and the bluest water I've ever known. Mesut and I were joking that we were going to jump in and trust me, it was hard not to. 

The ship provided us so much joy and laughter! Museums are wonderful and I am an enormous proponent of having historical tours, but sometimes, you just need to have a good time.

Disembarking was sad, but we all left with souveniers and vivid memories that will last us a lifetime. 

We hiked up a hill and waited for the van to return, but our day was no where near over yet. We were bound for a fall. 

The waterfall was a highly touristic place, but it was still incredible. The water was much envied in other countries and many people to this day are trying to purchase this stream from Turkey. I could be wrong on this, but I believe these were the Duden fall of Antolya. 

There had been a large storm two weeks ago and much of the waterfall park was corroded or trees had fallen. One tree that fell was over 600 years old. The tree that you see in the top left of the photo was the fallen ancient. 

I asked Mesut if people swam in the river, but he said that it was so dangerous that anyone who swam in it died. The current was far too strong and the river was riddled with malestroms, those whirling vacumes that suck you down. It was a reminder that while beautiful, nature has a mind and a will of her own.

But boy, was she beautiful!

A second daily selfie never hurt anyone.

We were actually able to climb up into the cliff's crevice to stand behind the waterfall, which was a powerful experience.

Exploring makes bellies hungry, so we headed off to lunch. The restaurant was a mere few minutes away. We had a bit of a hike down to the place where we would be eating and we could see as we were getting closer numerous manmade pools where fish were being raised. Our guide said to us, "In Turkey, we catch everything we eat." She then laughed and said that she was only joking, but I think we would have not only believed her, we would have tried it for ourselves.

Right on the side of the river, we ate fish that was caught within the last 12 hours. The trout was very yummy. My companions ate the fish without the head, but I've been diving in to what the locals eat, so on my plate was a whole fish, head, eyes and all. 

We stayed at the restaurant for a long while, but then we boarded the bus, bid goodbye to our dear guide and embarked upon one of the most beautiful drives any of us had enjoyed in our lives. 

The mountains Taurous are indeed a bull. Titanic, proud, teaming with grace. The mountains were covered with dense forests, which was a surprise considering that we had only been in the presence of beaches and palm trees. The road was seemingly endless, but we were all quite fine with this. We drove and drove, stopping for a potty break, at a lovely spot. After several hours in the van, the other ladies and I went into the gas station and bought several bottles of water at 50* lira, which is 25* American. We successfully navigated without our translator, (a very empowering feeling), and returned to the van with waters for everyone! We've all come to appreciate how spoiled we are in the States to have access to water from our faucets. People don't drink out of their faucets here that we've seen - everything is bottled and it makes it difficult to have water during our travels, so whenever we have an opportunity to get water, we're taking it. Even as I type this on the van on our carride between Nigde (Wait to you hear about this place!) and Cappadochia, the back of my iPad is leaning against the top of a water bottle. 

These minor details all ended up resulting with a spectacular consequence. 

Our van made a turn around a bend and at one o'clock I spotted what would become the perfect ending for our perfect day. "MOON!" Was all I could shout when I saw the beautiful, enormous white eye rising from the peak of a cloud. I couldn't find or produce words because it was so incredible.

Mesut asked the driver to pull over and we all jumped out of the van and hooped and laughed and took photos. Breathing the crisp mountain air and watching a super moon rise over bluff and cloud was the most magical moment of our lives. The joy that filled us as we watched that moon was so heavenly. We later discussed how this was not coincidence. We were meant to be at that spot at that time to see the September moon reach the skies. 

Once I get back to the States, I'll upload Margie's video of the moon's rise and hopefully one of Walt's high quality moon shots.

We eventually reached our hotel and boy were we impressed compared to the hotel that we stayed the night before. The hotel was the equivalent to a 4 or 5 star hotel in the States. Our room was beautiful, the bathroom was big, and the dinner service was top of the line. It was there where we began to discuss the inefficiencies of our previous hotel. 

The shower at our previous hotel had 3 walls, but no door or curtain. There was merely an open space between the shower stall and the toilette. The first step I took into the shower was a prelude to what would come. I nearly slipped and fell instantly, but recovered. The shower head was attached to the pole on a long hose and as soon as I turned it on, the head went flying off and water went everywhere...every-where. I quickly turned off the shower than created a strategic plan for showering without creating my very own Niagra Falls. My strategy ended up working well enough, but there was still a decent puddle in the bathroom. I had to use a number of the towels just to create a safe enough route back outside of the bathroom.

I gave my roommate Carole the tips and hints of my strategy. While she was in the restroom I discovered a neon blue light on the back of the entertainment center that flashed intermittently like you would expect in a club. 

Margie  too had a series of odd experiences, everything from her shower spraying every which way but straight to having so little light in her room that she had to requet one from the front desk.

Even Mesut had difficulties. While face-chatting with his family, his little girl asked him, "Daddy, why is it so dark?"

The rooms may have been deficient and without light, but they brought us oodles of laughter as we shared our stories after a long and marvelous day. And then like tonight, it was time to go to sleep. I will try to get up early tomorrow or to take my iPad with me so that I may continue these stories. 

One final note, that day, those ships, the waterfall, the moon, this fantastic opportunity to see a country and a culture beautifully different from our own have truly been heaven sent.

Your humble author,

S. Faxon