Sausages here are far more abundant than back home. You can get fresh ones, as in needing to be cooked, but so far I’ve gone towards the dry ones that last forever in a fridge or out.
There have been a few tasty examples, but I think I’m going to start relying on the thin spicy ones out of a concern for cost. The one with olives in the sausage was good, but 5 euros for about 7cm is just too steep for my blood and bank account.
I picked up a new one the other day, sauccissons de coche (sauccissons are generally the fatter jobbies, while your standard saucisse is of a narrower gauge). I asked the fellow what the deal was with coche and much to my pleasure my ever extending French skills allowed me to understand that as the name ‘coche’ might suggest it had to do with a pig, or cochon for my Fr-illiterate readers.
Not just a pig of course, these sausages are made from the older sows that have lived their piglet purposes to a full and are going on to their final duty. I wasn’t clear on all the details, but apparently when they’re older their meat tastes ---- something.
I just had my first piece and it turns out their meat tastes, piggy. Well barn piggy, if that makes sense. This description is going to sound far more odd than the reality, and I must emphasize the subtlety of the flavour. The sausage tastes like a pig barn smells. If you will. An old sow spending her life in a pig barn might be expected to take on some of these scents of course, so it’s no surprise. There is no sharp pig manure taste or anything like that, but as you chew the sausage (as I’m doing right now) you get subtle hints. Yes, this pig pooped and yes the barn took on that odour at times, and yes somewhere in this sausage those aromas are emerging.
Not bad. Just a new and unique taste. Maybe by the end of the sausage I’ll be in love with it. The last one, duck maybe?, certainly grew on me as I worked my way through. And I can only imagine the olfactory joys an old farmer gets when he bites into one of these 20 years after he had to give up the homestead and move into town.
Memories.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Catholicism
Similar to the previous post (given that I’m typing these on my computer in advance I hope I post them in the correct order or at least remember to give them a quick once over…doubtful, and either way this is going to be left in…or is it?), ummm. Yes.
Similar to the previous post, I think if I was ever going to get into the whole Christianity thing I would have to go for Catholicism. It has by far the most interesting structures to worship in, at least over here, and they give you lots to look at. The buildings themselves architecturally, but also all the little chapels and alcoves and saints and statues they have lying everywhere. Then of course there’s all the chanting and rituals that go on, throw in a bit of hazy incense and you have yourself a solid little party.
With all the ‘additions’ above and beyond the straight-up ‘JC is awesome message’, the damn thing may as well still be pagan.
To all my devout and easily angered Catholic readers JOKES!!! (they’re not reading now, but no doubt once I’m famous and people start looking all this stuff up they’ll google me and I’ll get in trouble. Heh thinking about that kind of stuff makes me wonder whether I should post anything online, but I suppose these kinds of resources are going to be the new ‘personal archives’ that get donated to libraries etc. Maybe I should find some intellectual compatriot and start exchanging letters so I have something more solid to give. But none of this is about Catholicism so I’ll stop and go work on something that will make me famous so these concerns will be legitimate).
Similar to the previous post, I think if I was ever going to get into the whole Christianity thing I would have to go for Catholicism. It has by far the most interesting structures to worship in, at least over here, and they give you lots to look at. The buildings themselves architecturally, but also all the little chapels and alcoves and saints and statues they have lying everywhere. Then of course there’s all the chanting and rituals that go on, throw in a bit of hazy incense and you have yourself a solid little party.
With all the ‘additions’ above and beyond the straight-up ‘JC is awesome message’, the damn thing may as well still be pagan.
To all my devout and easily angered Catholic readers JOKES!!! (they’re not reading now, but no doubt once I’m famous and people start looking all this stuff up they’ll google me and I’ll get in trouble. Heh thinking about that kind of stuff makes me wonder whether I should post anything online, but I suppose these kinds of resources are going to be the new ‘personal archives’ that get donated to libraries etc. Maybe I should find some intellectual compatriot and start exchanging letters so I have something more solid to give. But none of this is about Catholicism so I’ll stop and go work on something that will make me famous so these concerns will be legitimate).
urban design
Maybe it was because I was in such an amazing mood generally, but the little touches of urban design that I noticed in Toulouse struck me as quite brilliant. A mediatheque (like a library but with media beyond the biblio) had been recently constructed, in the form of yet another French arc, but its small, adjoined public square in the center of an oversized traffic roundabout had some nice touches. There were a few stores and bakeries and whatnot, but the actual square (circle) had some brilliant little fountains. One a babbling brook running down a ramp and the other popping little jets into the air in whatever happy pattern it chose.
Did it cost a little bit more to put those in and run them daily over and above the cost of a flat concrete courtyard? Yes, probably. Did it put a smile on my face, yes. And really shouldn’t MY happiness be the main concern of municipal governments everywhere?
Did it cost a little bit more to put those in and run them daily over and above the cost of a flat concrete courtyard? Yes, probably. Did it put a smile on my face, yes. And really shouldn’t MY happiness be the main concern of municipal governments everywhere?
French dogs
They’re around, as one might expect.
There are some teensy things seen in ridiculous outfits and all you can think of when you see them is why they haven’t been squashed yet. Not in any malicious way, but they are so tiny and seemingly a bit vapid. A rat of the same size, although many are probably bigger, at least has some heft, solidity and cunning about it. These dogs, not so much.
But I shouldn’t hard on the poor little dogs, there are similar freaks in purses and on frilly pink leashes all over the world.
Homeless people here seem to have far more dogs than back home. But not all the homeless have the same air of desperation about them either and there are a number of degrees and varieties that as I’m typing this I realize I might want to give some more thought to, or at least look into seeing if anyone else has done as much. There seems to be a lot of younger people that seem to live ‘homeless’ as a lifestyle. They have a look, a way of dressing and acting that extends between various groups. They’ve made a choice, and living with a big pack just happens to be their thing. But this is about dogs…
Homeless people and dogs, YES! I even saw one fellow, at least I assume there was someone hidden in the sleeping bag, that had too dogs, one of whom was busily nursing a litter. Making it more than two. I’ll try to stop lying.
As for walking the dogs, it’s a slightly different dynamic here. Many more dogs seem to be walked sans leash, and they are generally well behaved so no complaints. It’s the owners that might need some training, at least in the cross-cultural Canadian manners sense.
Someone here thinks people need to pick up their dogs’ leavings as there are posts with bag dispensers about. “Let’s keep Rodez beautiful!” indeed. But judging by my feet and the close calls I go through on a daily basis, the advice is not always heeded.
As part of a unique dog culture, at least in Rodez, there are a number of small enclosures about designed for a dog to visit and do its duty. No bigger than 2 metres squared with a pole in the middle for piddle, they are surrounded by a solid post fence, lending an air of privacy. The fence is high enough that from a distance you can’t see what’s going on. Instead all you see is a person standing at enclosure’s opening, hands in pockets, slowly rocking back and forth just watching their dog *ahem* finish up.
I assume there is some municipal employee whose main task is to tidy up these pens. Nice.
There are some teensy things seen in ridiculous outfits and all you can think of when you see them is why they haven’t been squashed yet. Not in any malicious way, but they are so tiny and seemingly a bit vapid. A rat of the same size, although many are probably bigger, at least has some heft, solidity and cunning about it. These dogs, not so much.
But I shouldn’t hard on the poor little dogs, there are similar freaks in purses and on frilly pink leashes all over the world.
Homeless people here seem to have far more dogs than back home. But not all the homeless have the same air of desperation about them either and there are a number of degrees and varieties that as I’m typing this I realize I might want to give some more thought to, or at least look into seeing if anyone else has done as much. There seems to be a lot of younger people that seem to live ‘homeless’ as a lifestyle. They have a look, a way of dressing and acting that extends between various groups. They’ve made a choice, and living with a big pack just happens to be their thing. But this is about dogs…
Homeless people and dogs, YES! I even saw one fellow, at least I assume there was someone hidden in the sleeping bag, that had too dogs, one of whom was busily nursing a litter. Making it more than two. I’ll try to stop lying.
As for walking the dogs, it’s a slightly different dynamic here. Many more dogs seem to be walked sans leash, and they are generally well behaved so no complaints. It’s the owners that might need some training, at least in the cross-cultural Canadian manners sense.
Someone here thinks people need to pick up their dogs’ leavings as there are posts with bag dispensers about. “Let’s keep Rodez beautiful!” indeed. But judging by my feet and the close calls I go through on a daily basis, the advice is not always heeded.
As part of a unique dog culture, at least in Rodez, there are a number of small enclosures about designed for a dog to visit and do its duty. No bigger than 2 metres squared with a pole in the middle for piddle, they are surrounded by a solid post fence, lending an air of privacy. The fence is high enough that from a distance you can’t see what’s going on. Instead all you see is a person standing at enclosure’s opening, hands in pockets, slowly rocking back and forth just watching their dog *ahem* finish up.
I assume there is some municipal employee whose main task is to tidy up these pens. Nice.
Thursday, November 06, 2008
posting
I promise I will post more regualrly. Promise.
I'm about ot scamper out the door yet again, but for the time being I'll just say I'm being moved. I don't know where or exactly when, but sometime next week likey and somewhere within the school.
It's just a bit frustrating to be sitting here without knowing hte exact details, especially since this has been rumoured for a while. As well as the obvious other questions like why not put me in the second choice in the first place?...and so on.
Oh well. Onward and upward.
I'm about ot scamper out the door yet again, but for the time being I'll just say I'm being moved. I don't know where or exactly when, but sometime next week likey and somewhere within the school.
It's just a bit frustrating to be sitting here without knowing hte exact details, especially since this has been rumoured for a while. As well as the obvious other questions like why not put me in the second choice in the first place?...and so on.
Oh well. Onward and upward.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
the following
The following three posts were written stream of consciousness, when I was kind of tired. Take from them what you will (and are able)
Life in France
Yes the food is okay. There is too much meat and cheese and fatty sausages of course - all of which is delicious and a risk to my girlish figure. I refuse to tell French people their food is good though. They are too caught up in it and smug and I’ve had good food in many places.
However, I find it very doubtful the food I get in the school cafeteria would appear in a school café in any other country, but until the French learn to be a bit more humble about their food, they’re not getting anything else from me.
And what the heck is the problem with mixing vegetables with your aligot? It’s the only option when there’s only one hot plate and saucepan.
Aligot being a delicious local dish of potatoes, cheese and cream in a 4-2-1 ratio, and my condemnation arising when I suggested mixing a few veggies into the mash. I was roundly condemned by all present and informed later in the conversation it isn’t aligot lest the cheese come from somewhere other than a tiny block of farms somewhere south of Rodez.
I guess.
Too much about food!
Aside from that, the bureaucracy here is silly. I have filled out forms where I wrote my address down three times, on the same page! Opening my bank account required the murder of ten forests. Speaking of the bank, I deposited some cash today and it should appear on my bank balance by Tuesday. If I’d known it would take so long, I wouldn’t have bothered. I have general “life” insurance, not life insurance, just insurance for life. In case I step on someone’s toe or something. Before I join a gym, or take a yoga class I need to get some sort of form from a doctor, the cost of which will be refunded by the public health care.
And it goes and goes and goes.
So food, and bureaucracy. Seem to be the fixation of most people here. It isn’t about efficiency, that’s for sure, and come to think of it neither am I.
Maybe if I can figure out this whole language thing, thus enabling me to engage more fully in conversations over food, about food, during bureaucratic process or about them, I’ll like it all even more.
Right now, not being able to say what I really think is more than a bit irritating, and maybe if I didn’t talk to the other English assistants so much I’d be learning more and faster. Maybe.
However, I find it very doubtful the food I get in the school cafeteria would appear in a school café in any other country, but until the French learn to be a bit more humble about their food, they’re not getting anything else from me.
And what the heck is the problem with mixing vegetables with your aligot? It’s the only option when there’s only one hot plate and saucepan.
Aligot being a delicious local dish of potatoes, cheese and cream in a 4-2-1 ratio, and my condemnation arising when I suggested mixing a few veggies into the mash. I was roundly condemned by all present and informed later in the conversation it isn’t aligot lest the cheese come from somewhere other than a tiny block of farms somewhere south of Rodez.
I guess.
Too much about food!
Aside from that, the bureaucracy here is silly. I have filled out forms where I wrote my address down three times, on the same page! Opening my bank account required the murder of ten forests. Speaking of the bank, I deposited some cash today and it should appear on my bank balance by Tuesday. If I’d known it would take so long, I wouldn’t have bothered. I have general “life” insurance, not life insurance, just insurance for life. In case I step on someone’s toe or something. Before I join a gym, or take a yoga class I need to get some sort of form from a doctor, the cost of which will be refunded by the public health care.
And it goes and goes and goes.
So food, and bureaucracy. Seem to be the fixation of most people here. It isn’t about efficiency, that’s for sure, and come to think of it neither am I.
Maybe if I can figure out this whole language thing, thus enabling me to engage more fully in conversations over food, about food, during bureaucratic process or about them, I’ll like it all even more.
Right now, not being able to say what I really think is more than a bit irritating, and maybe if I didn’t talk to the other English assistants so much I’d be learning more and faster. Maybe.
Time and the internet
It’s interesting, I’m writing a bit more – I’ve written once or twice in the last week – but I’m still not reading much. Part of this is I only have one book, but I haven’t even been inclined to get into that.
I suppose I read quite a lot on the internet but you can’t really count that.
For a while there was a bit of guilt at the thought of dealing in English but that has passed. I wonder where my time goes because I do have a lot of it.
I think most of it disappears trying to sort out minutia. Things like which rail discount card to buy become hours long research and translation sessions where I always feel burned out and exhausted by the end. The deplorable state of internet in France doesn’t help things either. Packing up all my gear and heading over the teacher’s college I work at…working over there, but only with internet explorer because nothing else works…then coming back for lunch. It all just wastes so much time.
I think I should just give up the internet entirely, all the connections here are nothing but grief. But I can’t. Planning my holidays required oodles of research.
It’s strange being in a country, ostensibly tied in with the idea that the internet is the future, but also notoriously famous for its bureaucracy and pace. Not a good combo. Both through its connections and how websites are designed, the French have somehow extended this notoriety into the digital realm.
I have theories as to why I can’t find something helpful, like a train schedule online (I can find it through the German Rail website, which all the French use as well), but they’re for another time and involve the economy.
I suppose I read quite a lot on the internet but you can’t really count that.
For a while there was a bit of guilt at the thought of dealing in English but that has passed. I wonder where my time goes because I do have a lot of it.
I think most of it disappears trying to sort out minutia. Things like which rail discount card to buy become hours long research and translation sessions where I always feel burned out and exhausted by the end. The deplorable state of internet in France doesn’t help things either. Packing up all my gear and heading over the teacher’s college I work at…working over there, but only with internet explorer because nothing else works…then coming back for lunch. It all just wastes so much time.
I think I should just give up the internet entirely, all the connections here are nothing but grief. But I can’t. Planning my holidays required oodles of research.
It’s strange being in a country, ostensibly tied in with the idea that the internet is the future, but also notoriously famous for its bureaucracy and pace. Not a good combo. Both through its connections and how websites are designed, the French have somehow extended this notoriety into the digital realm.
I have theories as to why I can’t find something helpful, like a train schedule online (I can find it through the German Rail website, which all the French use as well), but they’re for another time and involve the economy.
rodez 2
Ther might be some new thoughts in this. Maybe not. I can't be bothered to check.
Rodez is a city/town on a hill. Apparently the Romans had some stuff here, but as far as I can tell all that remains in town is a small section of amphitheatre wall that has been incorporated into the central underground car park. There was a museum tour of the local aqueduct system the other weekend but I failed to reserve my spot and was therefore grossly disappointed when I showed up on Sunday for the tour.
Rodez is just out of the way. There’s a direct overnight train from Paris, but aside from that to get here requires connecting. It’s at the end of the line from Toulouse, although there is a small train that runs on to places further east. It’s just south of the Central Massif, but not so close that I can see it out my window or anything. A lot of people who live and work here take off for Toulouse when the week is done. This includes most of the students I work with and many of the teachers. Most of the town.
The shock at seeing so many constantly shuttered windows has worn off I think, but there are a lot of shuttered windows. And now that I’m thinking of it the weekends seem a lot less empty now that I’m running along the river path. It always seems to be fairly busy during the day and it’s just the center of town that is dead.
But again I must say NO! Not dead. Just quiet. I think it’s nice, and I have decided to ignore that “well at least it’s something to do” that seems to pervade the mindsets of many of the other assistants. There’s lots to do, as long as you like walking, running, quiet contemplation, reading (perhaps, although I’m still not doing the latter enough and even if I was I might run out of books in a hurry) etc.
So all in all Rodez is nice.
Rodez is a city/town on a hill. Apparently the Romans had some stuff here, but as far as I can tell all that remains in town is a small section of amphitheatre wall that has been incorporated into the central underground car park. There was a museum tour of the local aqueduct system the other weekend but I failed to reserve my spot and was therefore grossly disappointed when I showed up on Sunday for the tour.
Rodez is just out of the way. There’s a direct overnight train from Paris, but aside from that to get here requires connecting. It’s at the end of the line from Toulouse, although there is a small train that runs on to places further east. It’s just south of the Central Massif, but not so close that I can see it out my window or anything. A lot of people who live and work here take off for Toulouse when the week is done. This includes most of the students I work with and many of the teachers. Most of the town.
The shock at seeing so many constantly shuttered windows has worn off I think, but there are a lot of shuttered windows. And now that I’m thinking of it the weekends seem a lot less empty now that I’m running along the river path. It always seems to be fairly busy during the day and it’s just the center of town that is dead.
But again I must say NO! Not dead. Just quiet. I think it’s nice, and I have decided to ignore that “well at least it’s something to do” that seems to pervade the mindsets of many of the other assistants. There’s lots to do, as long as you like walking, running, quiet contemplation, reading (perhaps, although I’m still not doing the latter enough and even if I was I might run out of books in a hurry) etc.
So all in all Rodez is nice.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
rodez
Yes, So I have a few moments.
I don't feel like going into the in depth intricacies that are Frenchness and the famous french bureaucracy. I need to write those thoughts down and edit them before I think of posting them here because that's the golden stuff that British people eat up and I can put into a book.
But I will say this.
Rodez is a lovely town. It's main probalem is one of isolation. Part of this is likely the fact I haven't sorted out all the transit intricacies yet, but most of it is Rodez is a bit of a backwater, connected by rail to a couple of places far away that need to be gone through to reach anywhere of any significance. Bit of a pain, but there you go.
The bigger pain, howeverm is that I never learned to drive a manual transmission. Fine in Canada but here everythign is stick, and if I ever wanted to buy a car, or more likely rent one, it would certainly come in handy. Unfortunately I don't have the skill, so I can either rent a car and learn to drive the damn thing as I go (somehow hiding the fact I'm incompetent until I am out of sight) or sit here on my keester (booo) or convince another assistant to drive somewhere with me. That saves a bit of money so it's a possibility, but involves agreement etc etc.
Another thought I had involved buying a motorcycle, but while I'm sure I could figure it out I don't think the French are going to want to give me one without an actual motorcycle license...the little things.
So there I am.
But there are still many places to visit just on the train. I went to Albi just south of here the other day and there is still the entirety of Toulouse to visit. That should keep me entertained for a while. It's only if a I really want to take myself on a tour of the out of the way castles and villages that the Cathars hid out in that I need a car. Unfortunately I do so I'll have to think of something clever.
I don't feel like going into the in depth intricacies that are Frenchness and the famous french bureaucracy. I need to write those thoughts down and edit them before I think of posting them here because that's the golden stuff that British people eat up and I can put into a book.
But I will say this.
Rodez is a lovely town. It's main probalem is one of isolation. Part of this is likely the fact I haven't sorted out all the transit intricacies yet, but most of it is Rodez is a bit of a backwater, connected by rail to a couple of places far away that need to be gone through to reach anywhere of any significance. Bit of a pain, but there you go.
The bigger pain, howeverm is that I never learned to drive a manual transmission. Fine in Canada but here everythign is stick, and if I ever wanted to buy a car, or more likely rent one, it would certainly come in handy. Unfortunately I don't have the skill, so I can either rent a car and learn to drive the damn thing as I go (somehow hiding the fact I'm incompetent until I am out of sight) or sit here on my keester (booo) or convince another assistant to drive somewhere with me. That saves a bit of money so it's a possibility, but involves agreement etc etc.
Another thought I had involved buying a motorcycle, but while I'm sure I could figure it out I don't think the French are going to want to give me one without an actual motorcycle license...the little things.
So there I am.
But there are still many places to visit just on the train. I went to Albi just south of here the other day and there is still the entirety of Toulouse to visit. That should keep me entertained for a while. It's only if a I really want to take myself on a tour of the out of the way castles and villages that the Cathars hid out in that I need a car. Unfortunately I do so I'll have to think of something clever.
Friday, October 03, 2008
meh
Don't know when I'll be writing on here these days. Rodez is nice, French is hard but interesting to learn and the food is good.
What ,ore do you need to know....and I can't find the question mark on this keyboard.
What ,ore do you need to know....and I can't find the question mark on this keyboard.
Friday, September 26, 2008
France (after some other stuff)
So, sat at home in OS for a wee while. Month plus or so. Had to rejog travel plans after Zoom went belly up. Done. Flew into London with brother and mother, Lowestoft for a cousin's wedding where sister met up with us.
Afterwards, through various modes of transport, we all headed up to Edinburgh where sister lives to spend some quality time wedged into her two room pad. Quality. Nothing like 4 people squished together walking around all day and getting really tired an grumpy.
Eventually mother and brother departed, and sister and brother (me) hung about for a few more, relaxed days. Then down to London by bus, stayed there for a few and after an arduous journey, during which I watched more trains (overground and tube) pass than I thought possible I eventually managed to wedge myself aboard one and get to where I needed to be. Too late for my planned train to Dover of course, so I took the bus.
The bus takes a ferry from Dover to Calais, the same route some fella flew across the channel with a rocket pack on his back. I did not see this and it saddens me. After getting into to Paris (nasty traffic jam just north of the city) and metroing to Austerlitz I was unable to call my friend before getting on a train to Orleans.
Originally I was meant to arrive at 7. NO! Just before 10 by the time I got there, and all I could do was apologize that I didn't get in touch. WHy? France does not believe in coins (at least when it comes to their phones). And all credit cards here use the little chips meaning my credit card was useless in phones. By the time I found and bought a phone card (7.60 euros for 50...seconds? of talk time - maybe a bit more but not much) I was on the train.
Anyway, I made it and have arrived...in Orleans. An hour's train ride from Paris I will head into the city tomorrow for some exploration and return here for Saturday and Sunday. On Monday I catch my train to Rodez. Destiny awaits!
As for the French. I am cautiously pleased an optimistic. I still have a very hard time understanding what people are saying to me, but I'm talking with a reasonable fluidity and confidence. Actually much more than I might have expected. I'm pleased I came down to hang out with Raph and chat with her. It's nice being able to be corrected by someone you know, rather than not be corrected by a stranger. But there's something else.
Really trying to speak french all day is melting my brain. There's something in the back of my mind that says this will all be over soon. Treating it almost like a joke. Not a joke exactly but something akin to this. Simply put there is a dissonance and confusion as my brain attempts to develop new neural pathways and junk. I don't really know, but it's kind of exciting and aside from the exhaustion I am quite enjoying it.
Well, kind of. I'm also freaked out for speaking with people I don't know and who might not have the english or hte patience raph does. We shall see. As always we shall see.
Afterwards, through various modes of transport, we all headed up to Edinburgh where sister lives to spend some quality time wedged into her two room pad. Quality. Nothing like 4 people squished together walking around all day and getting really tired an grumpy.
Eventually mother and brother departed, and sister and brother (me) hung about for a few more, relaxed days. Then down to London by bus, stayed there for a few and after an arduous journey, during which I watched more trains (overground and tube) pass than I thought possible I eventually managed to wedge myself aboard one and get to where I needed to be. Too late for my planned train to Dover of course, so I took the bus.
The bus takes a ferry from Dover to Calais, the same route some fella flew across the channel with a rocket pack on his back. I did not see this and it saddens me. After getting into to Paris (nasty traffic jam just north of the city) and metroing to Austerlitz I was unable to call my friend before getting on a train to Orleans.
Originally I was meant to arrive at 7. NO! Just before 10 by the time I got there, and all I could do was apologize that I didn't get in touch. WHy? France does not believe in coins (at least when it comes to their phones). And all credit cards here use the little chips meaning my credit card was useless in phones. By the time I found and bought a phone card (7.60 euros for 50...seconds? of talk time - maybe a bit more but not much) I was on the train.
Anyway, I made it and have arrived...in Orleans. An hour's train ride from Paris I will head into the city tomorrow for some exploration and return here for Saturday and Sunday. On Monday I catch my train to Rodez. Destiny awaits!
As for the French. I am cautiously pleased an optimistic. I still have a very hard time understanding what people are saying to me, but I'm talking with a reasonable fluidity and confidence. Actually much more than I might have expected. I'm pleased I came down to hang out with Raph and chat with her. It's nice being able to be corrected by someone you know, rather than not be corrected by a stranger. But there's something else.
Really trying to speak french all day is melting my brain. There's something in the back of my mind that says this will all be over soon. Treating it almost like a joke. Not a joke exactly but something akin to this. Simply put there is a dissonance and confusion as my brain attempts to develop new neural pathways and junk. I don't really know, but it's kind of exciting and aside from the exhaustion I am quite enjoying it.
Well, kind of. I'm also freaked out for speaking with people I don't know and who might not have the english or hte patience raph does. We shall see. As always we shall see.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
my last full day in I town
I write that last entry in installments because of its monstrous size.
Almost verbatim to what I wrote in my journal...I thought parts were quite good.
Today, was just about walking. I did silly things like walk all the way back to Taksim just to see if I could find Greenpeace canvassers who I had failed to photograph for some GP friends back in Canada, then I found some neat old buildings perhaps Genoese...late in Constantinople's history the enoese were able to get themselves eleveated trading rights in the region. Oh why can't I remember by Byzantium class????
Then I cruised pass teh spice bazaar...that had been the focal point for my day but last night I relaized it might be closed (Sunday's the day off in Turkey) and sure enough it was. No worry.
More wandering to fill the void. To the university, around the university, various famous mosques here and there that I can't be bothered to name or even stick my head inside (there's something wrong with my tenses there, I leave it to the grammaticians). Then I walked all the back to cembertas (or whatever) to decide if I wanted to take a Turkish bath. Basically a bath, but heated stones, steam and some cubby fellow scrubbing you down (and if you're really lucky massaging you). I had meant to do it in various places from Aqaba all the way north...thinking Aleppo would be ideal. Unfortunately the hammams (word for Turkish bath) in Aleppo were closed (the ones that looked nice at least) so it was left to Istanbul. Eventually I decided that I would forgo, 46 more lira to keep in my pocket and the knowledge I could do it next time (save up and get a full massage too!!!).
But while looking at the bath's pamphlet what did I see?????
Guess.
No.
Well it was aqueducts. I had gone up to the university in part to find an aqueduct which is located right behind it. I found it, shitty little thing (heh) but the pamphlet had another one further along. I hadn't gone far enough!!!! So I dragged my tired legs back again and found it. What a beauty. Nice and long, arcing over Attaturk Boulevard. The real question though was how to get up...I wandered its length and was fortunate enough to see some people scrambling up at a building. I followed their lead and had a pleasant stroll all the way along. And got to where I had seen some people sitting from teh ground and....if they weren't someking a big ol' lung.
I'm not going to provide more details than that, for the uninformed I'll just say a lung involves marijuana. Using some ill informed notions of pot smokers being the same the world over I feel I may have invited myself in for a little toke. Meh. Hopefully it isn't that hard to come by, and they looked decently blazed already. I think they wanted a bit of money, or maybe not. Whatever the case they got nothing, I wasn't actually very high and we all lept down at the other end of the structure.
An interesting experience, just wish I'd gotten more high. I mean if I'm going to do it anyway...
Now I sit in the Big Apple having frustrated a nut seller or two on the way home, my bags are packed and hopedully under 20 kg and tomorrow I have lots of time for my finishing touches and lunch and snacks before catching my airport bus at 1300 for a 1610 flight (check in starts at 1410).
I'll be one night in London before flying to Vancouver.
Blog entries between now and then? I don't know. Leave me alone.
Almost verbatim to what I wrote in my journal...I thought parts were quite good.
Today, was just about walking. I did silly things like walk all the way back to Taksim just to see if I could find Greenpeace canvassers who I had failed to photograph for some GP friends back in Canada, then I found some neat old buildings perhaps Genoese...late in Constantinople's history the enoese were able to get themselves eleveated trading rights in the region. Oh why can't I remember by Byzantium class????
Then I cruised pass teh spice bazaar...that had been the focal point for my day but last night I relaized it might be closed (Sunday's the day off in Turkey) and sure enough it was. No worry.
More wandering to fill the void. To the university, around the university, various famous mosques here and there that I can't be bothered to name or even stick my head inside (there's something wrong with my tenses there, I leave it to the grammaticians). Then I walked all the back to cembertas (or whatever) to decide if I wanted to take a Turkish bath. Basically a bath, but heated stones, steam and some cubby fellow scrubbing you down (and if you're really lucky massaging you). I had meant to do it in various places from Aqaba all the way north...thinking Aleppo would be ideal. Unfortunately the hammams (word for Turkish bath) in Aleppo were closed (the ones that looked nice at least) so it was left to Istanbul. Eventually I decided that I would forgo, 46 more lira to keep in my pocket and the knowledge I could do it next time (save up and get a full massage too!!!).
But while looking at the bath's pamphlet what did I see?????
Guess.
No.
Well it was aqueducts. I had gone up to the university in part to find an aqueduct which is located right behind it. I found it, shitty little thing (heh) but the pamphlet had another one further along. I hadn't gone far enough!!!! So I dragged my tired legs back again and found it. What a beauty. Nice and long, arcing over Attaturk Boulevard. The real question though was how to get up...I wandered its length and was fortunate enough to see some people scrambling up at a building. I followed their lead and had a pleasant stroll all the way along. And got to where I had seen some people sitting from teh ground and....if they weren't someking a big ol' lung.
I'm not going to provide more details than that, for the uninformed I'll just say a lung involves marijuana. Using some ill informed notions of pot smokers being the same the world over I feel I may have invited myself in for a little toke. Meh. Hopefully it isn't that hard to come by, and they looked decently blazed already. I think they wanted a bit of money, or maybe not. Whatever the case they got nothing, I wasn't actually very high and we all lept down at the other end of the structure.
An interesting experience, just wish I'd gotten more high. I mean if I'm going to do it anyway...
Now I sit in the Big Apple having frustrated a nut seller or two on the way home, my bags are packed and hopedully under 20 kg and tomorrow I have lots of time for my finishing touches and lunch and snacks before catching my airport bus at 1300 for a 1610 flight (check in starts at 1410).
I'll be one night in London before flying to Vancouver.
Blog entries between now and then? I don't know. Leave me alone.
bazaar indeed
I'm hestitant to start this monstrosity of anentry on a keyboard with a finicky space bar, but if we areall patient it should work out alright.
Yesterday was a tremendously pleasant affair,all about shopping. To the Grand Bazaar we went armed with the name Altuu and a phone number. Altuu being Zoe's friend Şirin's pal from way back. We gave the number a call, but got no responseand so ventured into the crowded channels of commerce on our own, intent on not being fleeced and just looking around until we had a local guide on hand to save us from teh Oriental shopkeeps, full of cunning, guile and nefarious tricks to part us from our pieces of siler and gold.
In reality there was a sense of dread and nervousness within our jolly crew. We'd ventured through souqs and bazaars (even this one) before, but this time we all had gifts to buy and a desire to keep spending in check and such realities do not jive well with the narratives that surround an eastern bazaar we all carried in our respective heads.
Before we knew it though we were in a shop looking at belly dancing costumes (a favour for Kristin and her dancing grandma of course). "How much is this heavily sequined number? And this one with the tassles?" I don't think I intended to buy at that point, still holding out hope that Altuu would be on hand to guide us through the murky waters of the final transactions. Telling the shopkeep I needed to confirm how much my Canadian friend was willing to spend, we were given a card with a map (so we could find the place again) and were about to leave when I saw a costume that was the one for me.
Well, it would have been the one for me if I needed a belly dancing costume and since I know nothing of Kristin's grandma's taste in belly dancing paraphenalia, aside from the the necessity of bejeweled breasts, I figured my tastes would have to do the trick.
He started at 100 lira and quickly asked what I wanted to spend...the key to satisfied shopping in these conditions comes down to 2 main requirements in my mind.
1 - Kepp your smile on. It is a game you are playing after all. If you intend to buy, have a good time while doing it and I think the shopkeepers are more willing to make a smidgen less profit in return for the frivolity.
2 - When it comes to naming your own price, there is nothing wrong with being ridiculous. "How much do I want to spend? Well ideally you give it to me more free...maybe 10." And the game continues.
90? 25?, with lots of joshing around in between. I assured the vendor my very good Turkish friend told me to spend no more than 50 and that was for the top of the line stuff, surely this slightly lower cost one shouldn't be more than...30?
In the end I was at 35 and having a great time wehen Zoe countered his 55 with 40. With mock indignation I warned her against interfering but suddenly he was at 40 too and we were all drinking tea in celebration. We then chatted for a while about his work in the bazaar, former businesses, humanity. The normal stuff.
The love and people talk seemed to be a theme for the day. Apparently not many people were interested in my money, just as long as hearts were full of love and I was happy, well then they were happy as well. And I believe there was some truth in the talk. They wanted my money, yes, but if I was giving them proft, they were willing to forgo a little more money as long as I walked away with a smile. Or maybe I was ripped off royally. Who knows such things? But maintaining an attitude of finding a price you are happy with (whether it's really the best or not) seems to be a good rule of thumb to follow.
After that first experience we called Altuu again with renewed confidence and joy at the thought of shopping. This time we met up, bought a few knick knacks in his tiny shop before he began leading us hither and yon. We'd tell him what we needed to buy and he'd take us to an appropriate location, waiting with us sometimes or heading back to his shop if we'd be taking a while. Where possible we were taken toi the bazaar wholesalers in teh back corners off the main drag, hidden from most tourists and I assume Turks without contacts as well. It was just lovely being able to buy waterpipes and backgammon boards without a need to quibble over prices. One example, 40 lira for Eric's backgammon board that usually has a 180-200 starting price in the bazaar proper. Very nice.
We all wanted different things, but my carpet shopping was undeniably the big ONE stop. We were taken to a shop Altuu had a friend, unfortunately not in on the day. Interestingly, even he couldn't tell me rug prices, for some reason I had been thinking working in the bazaar grants one strange and mystical powers on accurate pricing, and he was actually unsure of where the store he was looking for was amidst the warren. After finding it though he told the salesman he wanted no commission and asked we be given a fair price; something the rug man told me repeatedly during the closing stages of the negotiation.
Once we were in there, out came the rugs. Wump, wump, wool, silk, cotton, weaves, looms, Uzbekistan, Turkey. ENough to make a head spin. I didn't start asking prices at the start, instead ffocusing on narrowing what lay before me to a manageable number. Going through, catching the maybes, tossing the nos and slowly working down, eventually asking the two words of destiny, "How much?"
ALl the carpets already had price tags affixed of course. Labels saying $1200 and EURO 800 making my eyes bleed just a little. These prices are there for when a guide brings a tour group through apparently and the guide's commission must be considered at such moments, or so I was told. My starting prices were given anywhere from 100-300 lira depending on size, weave, material, age etc. I chose slowly, and harvested , asking for opinions from Zoe and Eric, taking weight and bulk into account on top of everything else.
Once down to a few choices, my counter offers started coming in, seeing what combos would work best for me, but only working with 3-5 carpets at this point. Given the money involved and the fact Kristin wouldn't be reimbursing me on this purchase there was a titch more tension in the air. I offered...he responded...these 2? Maybe 3? Always looking for that perfect combo. And then I stared and stared and stared, tortured over the decision, if 2 which 2, or maybe all 3? Zoe and Eric sat in silence watching teh proceedings.
Apparently having a hard time with a decision can be a good thing. I was genuine and explained the gift situation and my personal (relative) poverty. I was torn and really thinking it over. But suddenly after much back and forth and extended silences he extended his hand...asking me to take it. "I don't know...what am I shaking on? I'm nervous..." A little truth in all my statements but still fully aware that the game was on. "200 for three" he said. SOLD!
Once again he told me of his desire to ensure my happiness, love in his heart, etc etc. Who knows how much was BS but the sale had been made and he could BS or lie or tell the truth about love or any other subject all he wanted.
In retrospect I think having the salesman tired may have helped my cause. Whether it was his daughter or some girlfriend keeping him up until 6 that morning I couldn't quite understand, but he told me he was tired. Perhaps also a little nicotine stressed. There is no smoking in the bazaar apparently, 50 lira fine if caught by the police. He snuck one in with my permission in the shop with the door closed. The AC kept the air plenty clean but the next time I may claim asthma then reqally have a hard time deciding as teh cravings kick in...just to see what happens.
After THAT monstrostity it was plates and scarves and this and that and round and round Zoe went...Eric and I being oh so patient.Before we knew it we'd been shopping for 6 hours and were trundling home exhausted, after thanking Altuu for his hard work and kindness of course.
Yesterday was a tremendously pleasant affair,all about shopping. To the Grand Bazaar we went armed with the name Altuu and a phone number. Altuu being Zoe's friend Şirin's pal from way back. We gave the number a call, but got no responseand so ventured into the crowded channels of commerce on our own, intent on not being fleeced and just looking around until we had a local guide on hand to save us from teh Oriental shopkeeps, full of cunning, guile and nefarious tricks to part us from our pieces of siler and gold.
In reality there was a sense of dread and nervousness within our jolly crew. We'd ventured through souqs and bazaars (even this one) before, but this time we all had gifts to buy and a desire to keep spending in check and such realities do not jive well with the narratives that surround an eastern bazaar we all carried in our respective heads.
Before we knew it though we were in a shop looking at belly dancing costumes (a favour for Kristin and her dancing grandma of course). "How much is this heavily sequined number? And this one with the tassles?" I don't think I intended to buy at that point, still holding out hope that Altuu would be on hand to guide us through the murky waters of the final transactions. Telling the shopkeep I needed to confirm how much my Canadian friend was willing to spend, we were given a card with a map (so we could find the place again) and were about to leave when I saw a costume that was the one for me.
Well, it would have been the one for me if I needed a belly dancing costume and since I know nothing of Kristin's grandma's taste in belly dancing paraphenalia, aside from the the necessity of bejeweled breasts, I figured my tastes would have to do the trick.
He started at 100 lira and quickly asked what I wanted to spend...the key to satisfied shopping in these conditions comes down to 2 main requirements in my mind.
1 - Kepp your smile on. It is a game you are playing after all. If you intend to buy, have a good time while doing it and I think the shopkeepers are more willing to make a smidgen less profit in return for the frivolity.
2 - When it comes to naming your own price, there is nothing wrong with being ridiculous. "How much do I want to spend? Well ideally you give it to me more free...maybe 10." And the game continues.
90? 25?, with lots of joshing around in between. I assured the vendor my very good Turkish friend told me to spend no more than 50 and that was for the top of the line stuff, surely this slightly lower cost one shouldn't be more than...30?
In the end I was at 35 and having a great time wehen Zoe countered his 55 with 40. With mock indignation I warned her against interfering but suddenly he was at 40 too and we were all drinking tea in celebration. We then chatted for a while about his work in the bazaar, former businesses, humanity. The normal stuff.
The love and people talk seemed to be a theme for the day. Apparently not many people were interested in my money, just as long as hearts were full of love and I was happy, well then they were happy as well. And I believe there was some truth in the talk. They wanted my money, yes, but if I was giving them proft, they were willing to forgo a little more money as long as I walked away with a smile. Or maybe I was ripped off royally. Who knows such things? But maintaining an attitude of finding a price you are happy with (whether it's really the best or not) seems to be a good rule of thumb to follow.
After that first experience we called Altuu again with renewed confidence and joy at the thought of shopping. This time we met up, bought a few knick knacks in his tiny shop before he began leading us hither and yon. We'd tell him what we needed to buy and he'd take us to an appropriate location, waiting with us sometimes or heading back to his shop if we'd be taking a while. Where possible we were taken toi the bazaar wholesalers in teh back corners off the main drag, hidden from most tourists and I assume Turks without contacts as well. It was just lovely being able to buy waterpipes and backgammon boards without a need to quibble over prices. One example, 40 lira for Eric's backgammon board that usually has a 180-200 starting price in the bazaar proper. Very nice.
We all wanted different things, but my carpet shopping was undeniably the big ONE stop. We were taken to a shop Altuu had a friend, unfortunately not in on the day. Interestingly, even he couldn't tell me rug prices, for some reason I had been thinking working in the bazaar grants one strange and mystical powers on accurate pricing, and he was actually unsure of where the store he was looking for was amidst the warren. After finding it though he told the salesman he wanted no commission and asked we be given a fair price; something the rug man told me repeatedly during the closing stages of the negotiation.
Once we were in there, out came the rugs. Wump, wump, wool, silk, cotton, weaves, looms, Uzbekistan, Turkey. ENough to make a head spin. I didn't start asking prices at the start, instead ffocusing on narrowing what lay before me to a manageable number. Going through, catching the maybes, tossing the nos and slowly working down, eventually asking the two words of destiny, "How much?"
ALl the carpets already had price tags affixed of course. Labels saying $1200 and EURO 800 making my eyes bleed just a little. These prices are there for when a guide brings a tour group through apparently and the guide's commission must be considered at such moments, or so I was told. My starting prices were given anywhere from 100-300 lira depending on size, weave, material, age etc. I chose slowly, and harvested , asking for opinions from Zoe and Eric, taking weight and bulk into account on top of everything else.
Once down to a few choices, my counter offers started coming in, seeing what combos would work best for me, but only working with 3-5 carpets at this point. Given the money involved and the fact Kristin wouldn't be reimbursing me on this purchase there was a titch more tension in the air. I offered...he responded...these 2? Maybe 3? Always looking for that perfect combo. And then I stared and stared and stared, tortured over the decision, if 2 which 2, or maybe all 3? Zoe and Eric sat in silence watching teh proceedings.
Apparently having a hard time with a decision can be a good thing. I was genuine and explained the gift situation and my personal (relative) poverty. I was torn and really thinking it over. But suddenly after much back and forth and extended silences he extended his hand...asking me to take it. "I don't know...what am I shaking on? I'm nervous..." A little truth in all my statements but still fully aware that the game was on. "200 for three" he said. SOLD!
Once again he told me of his desire to ensure my happiness, love in his heart, etc etc. Who knows how much was BS but the sale had been made and he could BS or lie or tell the truth about love or any other subject all he wanted.
In retrospect I think having the salesman tired may have helped my cause. Whether it was his daughter or some girlfriend keeping him up until 6 that morning I couldn't quite understand, but he told me he was tired. Perhaps also a little nicotine stressed. There is no smoking in the bazaar apparently, 50 lira fine if caught by the police. He snuck one in with my permission in the shop with the door closed. The AC kept the air plenty clean but the next time I may claim asthma then reqally have a hard time deciding as teh cravings kick in...just to see what happens.
After THAT monstrostity it was plates and scarves and this and that and round and round Zoe went...Eric and I being oh so patient.Before we knew it we'd been shopping for 6 hours and were trundling home exhausted, after thanking Altuu for his hard work and kindness of course.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
market
For all those people who check this blog religiously (HA!), this post is for you.
I'm going to the Grand Bazaar today. And to be honest I'm a bit nervous. I actually have to buy some things, but hopefully the wheeling and dealing won't get too intense.
Hopefully.
I'm going to the Grand Bazaar today. And to be honest I'm a bit nervous. I actually have to buy some things, but hopefully the wheeling and dealing won't get too intense.
Hopefully.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Amazıngly Istanbul
Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.
We have been busy. I don´t know how thıs post ıs goıng to go and flow...let us fınd out.
So yesterday ıt was all about Topkapı Palace, the long term home of Ottoman Sultans and a huge palace stuck on the poınt that has the Golden Horn on one sıde and the Bosphorus on the other.
Now thıs ıs one bıg palace. From kıtchens wıth lots of porcelaın to the treasury fılled wıth treasure, holy smokes. There were crazy robes and awesome swords and the fıfth bıggest dıamond ın the world (known as the Spoon Trader dıamond (or somethıng lıke that) because a guy found ıt ın a trash dump and got three spoons for ıt...oops) and the Topkapı dagger whıch had a movıe made aBOUT ıt ın the 1960s. I´ve never heard of the movıe but now I wıll need to watch ıt. It´s called Topkapı for those who want to watch ıt themselves.
So many thıngs there. We then paıd the extra 10 lıra to g ınto the harem...basıcally the domestıc quarters ın the olden days. No naked ladıes (or men). A lot of peple skıp ıt because of the extra cost but wıth my newfound passıon for colours and patterns I am super glad I went through.
So cool.
After Topkapı we wandered down to the eastern end of the Orıent Express (IStanbul´s traın statıon before amblıng and kıllıng some tıme and goıng over to the Taksım Square area. We had been there the nıght before but thıs tıme we were meetıng up wıth a frıend of Zoe´s who went to Queen´s but ıs Turkısh and ıs now lıvıng and workıng ın Istanbul. That was fuın to go out and grab a bıte to eat and a few beers wıth a person who could do the orderıng, fınd the rooftop locatıon etc etc. Very nıce.
Today was all about the Bosphorus cruıse. Many thıngs to see. Many pıctures to take. Much amazement to have at the confluence of Europe and Asıa. Very cool. At the far end we rode the bus back to check out Rumelı Hısarı (Fortress of Europe). It was a huge castle buılt ın conjunctıon wıth one on the Asıan sıde at the Bsphorus´ most narrow poınt. Mehmet the Conqueror managed t get ıt buılt ın 4 months (death threats or somethıng) but then took Constantınple shortly thereafter meanıng he no llonger needed to cut the cıty ff. Instead ıt became a glorıfıed toll booth on the rıver traffıc. Cool castle. Fun vısıt. And then ıt was back towards the centre of town to look at some stuff (a Genoese Tower...the Galata Tower) and then wanderıng lookıng for old Synagogues ın the area. We found them but none were open...apparently one has prayers tonıght (fRIDAY AND ALL). The Jewısh communıty that used to lıve ın that area has moved elsewhere so they are not really as actıve but ıt ıs neat to see how the synagogues sımply exıst wıthın the neıghbourhood makıng them very hard to fınd.
Yu have to look fr Stars of Davıd very closely.
Apparently the O on thıs keyboard ıs fınıcky.
Hrrrm...and then I had a fısh sandwıch and now I am on the ınternet and soon I wıll bathe and tomorrow we are gıng shoppıng ın the Grand Bazaar. The adventures never stop.
We have been busy. I don´t know how thıs post ıs goıng to go and flow...let us fınd out.
So yesterday ıt was all about Topkapı Palace, the long term home of Ottoman Sultans and a huge palace stuck on the poınt that has the Golden Horn on one sıde and the Bosphorus on the other.
Now thıs ıs one bıg palace. From kıtchens wıth lots of porcelaın to the treasury fılled wıth treasure, holy smokes. There were crazy robes and awesome swords and the fıfth bıggest dıamond ın the world (known as the Spoon Trader dıamond (or somethıng lıke that) because a guy found ıt ın a trash dump and got three spoons for ıt...oops) and the Topkapı dagger whıch had a movıe made aBOUT ıt ın the 1960s. I´ve never heard of the movıe but now I wıll need to watch ıt. It´s called Topkapı for those who want to watch ıt themselves.
So many thıngs there. We then paıd the extra 10 lıra to g ınto the harem...basıcally the domestıc quarters ın the olden days. No naked ladıes (or men). A lot of peple skıp ıt because of the extra cost but wıth my newfound passıon for colours and patterns I am super glad I went through.
So cool.
After Topkapı we wandered down to the eastern end of the Orıent Express (IStanbul´s traın statıon before amblıng and kıllıng some tıme and goıng over to the Taksım Square area. We had been there the nıght before but thıs tıme we were meetıng up wıth a frıend of Zoe´s who went to Queen´s but ıs Turkısh and ıs now lıvıng and workıng ın Istanbul. That was fuın to go out and grab a bıte to eat and a few beers wıth a person who could do the orderıng, fınd the rooftop locatıon etc etc. Very nıce.
Today was all about the Bosphorus cruıse. Many thıngs to see. Many pıctures to take. Much amazement to have at the confluence of Europe and Asıa. Very cool. At the far end we rode the bus back to check out Rumelı Hısarı (Fortress of Europe). It was a huge castle buılt ın conjunctıon wıth one on the Asıan sıde at the Bsphorus´ most narrow poınt. Mehmet the Conqueror managed t get ıt buılt ın 4 months (death threats or somethıng) but then took Constantınple shortly thereafter meanıng he no llonger needed to cut the cıty ff. Instead ıt became a glorıfıed toll booth on the rıver traffıc. Cool castle. Fun vısıt. And then ıt was back towards the centre of town to look at some stuff (a Genoese Tower...the Galata Tower) and then wanderıng lookıng for old Synagogues ın the area. We found them but none were open...apparently one has prayers tonıght (fRIDAY AND ALL). The Jewısh communıty that used to lıve ın that area has moved elsewhere so they are not really as actıve but ıt ıs neat to see how the synagogues sımply exıst wıthın the neıghbourhood makıng them very hard to fınd.
Yu have to look fr Stars of Davıd very closely.
Apparently the O on thıs keyboard ıs fınıcky.
Hrrrm...and then I had a fısh sandwıch and now I am on the ınternet and soon I wıll bathe and tomorrow we are gıng shoppıng ın the Grand Bazaar. The adventures never stop.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Istanbul
After an overnıght bus rıde, an easıly found shuttle bus ınto town and an equally easıly found Bıg Apple Hostel, Istanbul seems lıke an alrıght cıty.
Free ınternet ın the lobby, comfy and clean beds ın the dorms and people aren,t horrıbly loud when shufflıng about ın the mornıng. All ın all a good place to spend a few days.
Yesterday ıt RAINED HARDCORE (poured). That was weırd, but I guess we´re close to Europe, a bıt fırther nrth and raın ın the summer ıs not totally unheard of. I guess. Stıll ıt threw us off more than a lıttle, lackıng basıc umbrella and poncho supplıes.
Stıll we took ın the Hagıa Sofıa and teh Blue Mosque as well as teh Basılıca Cıstern. All these thıngs were fantastıc. I expecıally enjoyed thumbıng Hagıa Sofıa...and yes I dıd thumb the church/mosque ın the most explıcıt way you can ımagıne. I nly found out afterwards one does thıs to ıncrease fertılıty...oh well. I wıll just be careful (as always) for the next few days. And when I say thumb there´s a pıllar wıth a hole and you stıck ın your thumb and rotate. I also enjoyed the gıant Islamıc medallıons arund the place and attempted to take a pıcture a la Bond ın from Russıa Wıth Love (Octopussy) whıch had a scene ın the hagıa...ıt turned out alrıght.
The cıstern was fun...get out of the raın by goıng underground ınto a water stoarge chamber...and had carp t look at and some upsıde down and sıdeways medusa heads at the base of sme f the pıllars. A lot f them were reused from other projects so they all had dıfferent appearances. And the whole mood was set wıth the lıghtıng and musıc, just super.
And the blue mosque was another mosque. Nıce place. Lovely decoratıons. And some fun ınfo pamphlets on Islam...and free whıch was good. But stıll just another mosque.
Today ıt´s Tokapı palace and maybe across to Asıa on the ferry. Last nıght we crossed the Golden Horn to Taksım and that was nıce, ıf a bıt tryıng when the restranteur kept tryıng to make varıous magıcal charges appear. I managed to lead everyone home safely (strange how new people don´t trust my sense of dırectıon late at nıght on darkened streets) and that was that.
Because I have ınternet at hand and free I feel you may be gettıng more rapıd updates. We shall see.
Free ınternet ın the lobby, comfy and clean beds ın the dorms and people aren,t horrıbly loud when shufflıng about ın the mornıng. All ın all a good place to spend a few days.
Yesterday ıt RAINED HARDCORE (poured). That was weırd, but I guess we´re close to Europe, a bıt fırther nrth and raın ın the summer ıs not totally unheard of. I guess. Stıll ıt threw us off more than a lıttle, lackıng basıc umbrella and poncho supplıes.
Stıll we took ın the Hagıa Sofıa and teh Blue Mosque as well as teh Basılıca Cıstern. All these thıngs were fantastıc. I expecıally enjoyed thumbıng Hagıa Sofıa...and yes I dıd thumb the church/mosque ın the most explıcıt way you can ımagıne. I nly found out afterwards one does thıs to ıncrease fertılıty...oh well. I wıll just be careful (as always) for the next few days. And when I say thumb there´s a pıllar wıth a hole and you stıck ın your thumb and rotate. I also enjoyed the gıant Islamıc medallıons arund the place and attempted to take a pıcture a la Bond ın from Russıa Wıth Love (Octopussy) whıch had a scene ın the hagıa...ıt turned out alrıght.
The cıstern was fun...get out of the raın by goıng underground ınto a water stoarge chamber...and had carp t look at and some upsıde down and sıdeways medusa heads at the base of sme f the pıllars. A lot f them were reused from other projects so they all had dıfferent appearances. And the whole mood was set wıth the lıghtıng and musıc, just super.
And the blue mosque was another mosque. Nıce place. Lovely decoratıons. And some fun ınfo pamphlets on Islam...and free whıch was good. But stıll just another mosque.
Today ıt´s Tokapı palace and maybe across to Asıa on the ferry. Last nıght we crossed the Golden Horn to Taksım and that was nıce, ıf a bıt tryıng when the restranteur kept tryıng to make varıous magıcal charges appear. I managed to lead everyone home safely (strange how new people don´t trust my sense of dırectıon late at nıght on darkened streets) and that was that.
Because I have ınternet at hand and free I feel you may be gettıng more rapıd updates. We shall see.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Goreme
There's meant to be an accent on the o or the e or something, but I'll leave it to you're very adept imaginations.
We have been here for three days, counting the one of our arrival and are leaving for Istanbul tonight. One more overnight bus and then it's planes the rest of the way. Exciting!
5 days in Istanbul. A few more than I planned but really, I don't think I'm allowed to complain about being stuck in Istanbul for an extra day or so. I'm sure I'll be able to find something to do.
But first Goreme. Awesome. Hot in the day, cool at night, the air is soooo clean and there are a tonne of hiking trails all over the place. There are lots of rock faces to scale and places to get yourself stuck in...think about making a jump top get yourself unstuck, then thinking better and going back the way you came to find a better way down. I'm writing this so I must have made some correct decisions today.
This is also the area where there are a lot of underground cities. I've seen excerpts of these but all the full blown, hardcore underground places are a bit further afield and I haven't gotten to them as a result. There are lots of pigeon roosts however, all built ay up on the cliff faces where you can ojnly stare and wonder why. It turns out, like with most aspects of life, it's all about the shit. Collect the pigeon shit, fertilize your fields and have a party featuring lots and lots of fruit.
JOYS!
I scrambled into one today, not too shitty anymore...I think you need to leave some food there for them to come by, but really cool and there was an old ladder in there to boot, just abandoned kind of feel to the place.
The canyon I was venturing down today also had some tunnels, but I believe they were more water worn than anything else. The canyon is all overgrown and thorny ( I should have rolled down my pant legs...yeesh) and the best way to avoid this is to enter the tunnels/water channels that follow the valley's edge. Sometime this means crawling and scrambling but really I'm going to throw these pants out in a few days so whatever.
Good adventure today.
Yesterday I went up Pigeon Valley to the next little town over, saw what they were calling a 'castle' which is really just a high point that at one time had some tunnels running through it, but now is just a weathered chuink of rock. Then I went down Love Valley eating apricots off trees the whole way (if I'd known before hand I wouldn't have bought the dried ones). I should mention that the table from which I bought the dried apricots had four words, one atop the others. I don't remember all the details, just that line 2 said something about viagra and line 4 was a comment on aphrodisiac...so apparently dried apricots and peanuts are the key. I bought some peanuts cooked in honey and sesame seeds that tasted like a treat I was obsessed with in Vietnam. Nummmy num nums. Aphrodisiac or not, delicious.
Then as I mentioned...Love Valley. No particular reason for it to be called this except for all the penis looking rock formations. Pretty good impressions. I guess that's what constitutes love around here, tall vertical shafts reaching for the sky.
Lovely.
But as i said Goreme is super...the air is great and if I actually would WRITE SOMETHING it might be a place I could set up shop in for some serious pondering. As is I'd just be wasting my time because I haven't written anything. Blech.
Hrrrm, I think that's all. I'm writing this on the comp in the lobby of the Flintstone Hotel where we stayed. We checked out at 10 but they let you use all the services (shower, pool, comp etc) all day until your bus leaves. Very nice.
In return I left them some filthy sock I wore hiking today and likely an ASUS Campsm 2002 (2003?) tshirt...I might bring it with me but I brought clothes with me to toss so I should start tossing more.
See you in Istanbul!
We have been here for three days, counting the one of our arrival and are leaving for Istanbul tonight. One more overnight bus and then it's planes the rest of the way. Exciting!
5 days in Istanbul. A few more than I planned but really, I don't think I'm allowed to complain about being stuck in Istanbul for an extra day or so. I'm sure I'll be able to find something to do.
But first Goreme. Awesome. Hot in the day, cool at night, the air is soooo clean and there are a tonne of hiking trails all over the place. There are lots of rock faces to scale and places to get yourself stuck in...think about making a jump top get yourself unstuck, then thinking better and going back the way you came to find a better way down. I'm writing this so I must have made some correct decisions today.
This is also the area where there are a lot of underground cities. I've seen excerpts of these but all the full blown, hardcore underground places are a bit further afield and I haven't gotten to them as a result. There are lots of pigeon roosts however, all built ay up on the cliff faces where you can ojnly stare and wonder why. It turns out, like with most aspects of life, it's all about the shit. Collect the pigeon shit, fertilize your fields and have a party featuring lots and lots of fruit.
JOYS!
I scrambled into one today, not too shitty anymore...I think you need to leave some food there for them to come by, but really cool and there was an old ladder in there to boot, just abandoned kind of feel to the place.
The canyon I was venturing down today also had some tunnels, but I believe they were more water worn than anything else. The canyon is all overgrown and thorny ( I should have rolled down my pant legs...yeesh) and the best way to avoid this is to enter the tunnels/water channels that follow the valley's edge. Sometime this means crawling and scrambling but really I'm going to throw these pants out in a few days so whatever.
Good adventure today.
Yesterday I went up Pigeon Valley to the next little town over, saw what they were calling a 'castle' which is really just a high point that at one time had some tunnels running through it, but now is just a weathered chuink of rock. Then I went down Love Valley eating apricots off trees the whole way (if I'd known before hand I wouldn't have bought the dried ones). I should mention that the table from which I bought the dried apricots had four words, one atop the others. I don't remember all the details, just that line 2 said something about viagra and line 4 was a comment on aphrodisiac...so apparently dried apricots and peanuts are the key. I bought some peanuts cooked in honey and sesame seeds that tasted like a treat I was obsessed with in Vietnam. Nummmy num nums. Aphrodisiac or not, delicious.
Then as I mentioned...Love Valley. No particular reason for it to be called this except for all the penis looking rock formations. Pretty good impressions. I guess that's what constitutes love around here, tall vertical shafts reaching for the sky.
Lovely.
But as i said Goreme is super...the air is great and if I actually would WRITE SOMETHING it might be a place I could set up shop in for some serious pondering. As is I'd just be wasting my time because I haven't written anything. Blech.
Hrrrm, I think that's all. I'm writing this on the comp in the lobby of the Flintstone Hotel where we stayed. We checked out at 10 but they let you use all the services (shower, pool, comp etc) all day until your bus leaves. Very nice.
In return I left them some filthy sock I wore hiking today and likely an ASUS Campsm 2002 (2003?) tshirt...I might bring it with me but I brought clothes with me to toss so I should start tossing more.
See you in Istanbul!
Saturday, July 12, 2008
T ıs for Turkey
Yes ındeedy. Also, strange keyboards so bear wıth me ıf you wouldn't mınd.
The cab to Antakya went well and rıght away we had a bus booked to Antalya...14 hours away and overnıght. For the fırst tıme ın my lıfe I slept exceedıngly well on saıd bus. Well I guess ıt was the fırst tıme ın my lıfe on that bus, but I slept better on ıt than any bus ın the hıstory of me.
We came to Antalya to go to Olympos, an amazıng beach place. I don't want toı call ıt town because ıt's really just a whole bunch of hotels and pensyıons. The place got ıts start wıth ,treehouses but the place we stayed at, I feel one of the more upperend dealıes on the beachc had all sorts of cabıns and dorms and hotel typed structures. The last remaınıng treehouses were actually buılt ın the trees ımmedıately over the dınıng area, and I can't ımagıne they,re very relaxıng.
The hotel ıs bascıally an excuse to wander down the dırt path,through the ancıent cıty of Olympus and out to the beach. Holy crow. Now that's a nıce beach. I trıed to spend all my tıme ın the shade, except when out swımmıng of course, but I somehow stıll got a WICKED SUnburn everywhere. Don't even ask me. The next day Iput on sunscreen and found better shade. I don,t thınk I hAD any extra burnıng.
Huzzah.
Apparently Medıterranean aır also makes me very very tıred because I was sleepıng constantly ın OLympus. On the beach ın the cabın etc. We even went on a lıttle trıp last nıght and I was strugglıng to stay awake ın the bus.
The trıp was to Chımera...a spot where fıre just kınd of emerges from the rocks. It was a funny lıttle trıp where everyone hıkes up a mountaın path ın the dark to look at flames. It ıs very lovely and peaceful and an amusıng lıttle trıp. I only wısh I had remembered hotdogs.
Rıght now I'm ın the Antalya otogar {bus statıon} kıllıng tıme and contemplatıng the future.
Zoe ıs goıng to Goreme at 10 tonıght (another opvernıght bus) and I'm thınkıng. I'm burned out on the whole trvel thıng and wıth a few clıcks and a few extra dollars/pounds/euros I could head to Istanbul, spend a few days there then go vısıt Mary Marg ın Edınburgh. It appears, however, that she may not be ın Edınburgh, throwıng a wrench ınto those carefully laıd out plans. Decısıons...decısıons.
So far the coast lıne of Turkey ıs very cottagey...pıne trees and towns/cıtıes all buılt up for holıdayers. It all feels very Muskoka etc etc. Nıce country though. It's funny how relaxed one becomes when the buses are regular and clean and have regular schedules and companıes attached to them. You pay for ıt of course, travellıng ıs much more expensıve,but ıt's good. I thınk.
I'm ready to be done travellıng already and ıt has only been a month and a bıt. I must be gettıng old.
The cab to Antakya went well and rıght away we had a bus booked to Antalya...14 hours away and overnıght. For the fırst tıme ın my lıfe I slept exceedıngly well on saıd bus. Well I guess ıt was the fırst tıme ın my lıfe on that bus, but I slept better on ıt than any bus ın the hıstory of me.
We came to Antalya to go to Olympos, an amazıng beach place. I don't want toı call ıt town because ıt's really just a whole bunch of hotels and pensyıons. The place got ıts start wıth ,treehouses but the place we stayed at, I feel one of the more upperend dealıes on the beachc had all sorts of cabıns and dorms and hotel typed structures. The last remaınıng treehouses were actually buılt ın the trees ımmedıately over the dınıng area, and I can't ımagıne they,re very relaxıng.
The hotel ıs bascıally an excuse to wander down the dırt path,through the ancıent cıty of Olympus and out to the beach. Holy crow. Now that's a nıce beach. I trıed to spend all my tıme ın the shade, except when out swımmıng of course, but I somehow stıll got a WICKED SUnburn everywhere. Don't even ask me. The next day Iput on sunscreen and found better shade. I don,t thınk I hAD any extra burnıng.
Huzzah.
Apparently Medıterranean aır also makes me very very tıred because I was sleepıng constantly ın OLympus. On the beach ın the cabın etc. We even went on a lıttle trıp last nıght and I was strugglıng to stay awake ın the bus.
The trıp was to Chımera...a spot where fıre just kınd of emerges from the rocks. It was a funny lıttle trıp where everyone hıkes up a mountaın path ın the dark to look at flames. It ıs very lovely and peaceful and an amusıng lıttle trıp. I only wısh I had remembered hotdogs.
Rıght now I'm ın the Antalya otogar {bus statıon} kıllıng tıme and contemplatıng the future.
Zoe ıs goıng to Goreme at 10 tonıght (another opvernıght bus) and I'm thınkıng. I'm burned out on the whole trvel thıng and wıth a few clıcks and a few extra dollars/pounds/euros I could head to Istanbul, spend a few days there then go vısıt Mary Marg ın Edınburgh. It appears, however, that she may not be ın Edınburgh, throwıng a wrench ınto those carefully laıd out plans. Decısıons...decısıons.
So far the coast lıne of Turkey ıs very cottagey...pıne trees and towns/cıtıes all buılt up for holıdayers. It all feels very Muskoka etc etc. Nıce country though. It's funny how relaxed one becomes when the buses are regular and clean and have regular schedules and companıes attached to them. You pay for ıt of course, travellıng ıs much more expensıve,but ıt's good. I thınk.
I'm ready to be done travellıng already and ıt has only been a month and a bıt. I must be gettıng old.
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