snow-capped cappedocia

i scarffed down the absolute worst su boregi (rectangular multi-layered cake of steamed pastry stuffed with white sheep's-milk cheese and parsley) while anxiously waiting for my bus to arrive. the oil seeped through the napkins to my cold and pasty fingers asserting its overbearing presence in my body. i was traveling from antalya to cappedocia with all of my awkward luggage. it was getting cold, i was getting tired and worried that the bus might show up without me knowing it. then the thoughts came: "is this it? it's not in the 23 slot, but it's the right bus company. i'm just going to check. but what if i can't come back into the terminal once i'm outside? what if someone takes my bags? i'll just take them with me. the ticket says 8:30 and my watch says 8:05 but i'm adding from vancouver time -why didn't i reset this useless watch, why? i'll just check the clock, there's got to be a clock. i'll just walk to the middle of the terminal -but if this is my bus and it takes off, i'm screwed. okay, i'll just walk over there and check if it's my bus." and then i heard english twanged with a new zealand accent. blessed, wonderful english. we instilled each other with confidence and exchanged a quick account of our travels thus far. then we were on the bus in our seats and off to goreme, cappedocia.

we arrived at around 7:30am to what i thought was goreme. how did i come to this conclusion? well, for starters my luggage had been tossed onto the puddled pavement, there were signs everywhere with goreme on it, and a man walked up and down the bus aisle screaming "goreme." guess again! i was in nev ashir, a neighboring town and certainly not the one on my bus ticket. it is quite common for this to happen, according to lonely planet. travel agents scoop you up when you're vulnerable. fortunately, this travel agent was really good to me. he took me in, fed me breakfast, housed me until the tour started, housed my luggage for the entire day, got me a really good deal on a bus ride back to istanbul, fed me dinner after the tour and kept the agency open after hours so i could wait indoors with heat and all before my bus ride later that night.

this marked my first snow experience of the year. in my sleepy haze, i forgot my jacket in my backpack before the tour but i was shortly joined by an indian family from london who where also suited inappropriatly. we shivered an introduction and off we went. once we took sight of the marvels awaiting us, it was all worth it. the snow reclaimed nature's rightful work by hugging the curves of hallowed rock. the combination of human ingenuity and natural magnificence was so poigniant that it made me overlook the abandoned ciggarette butts and packages. it was a tight squeeze to the top of one of the structures but, alas, the cozy cave abode proved to be a rewarding look out. as i gazed at the oddly shaped village, i pondered the adaptability of human kind.

it was amusing and pleasant to be surrounded by a young family. the dad walked around filming the dorky home video (loudly narrating about every detail) while the younger boy made new friends and noises. the older boy stayed close to his mother and smiled without complaint for every family photo. i later found out that the older son is autistic. i was happy to share my positive experiences with aba therapy with the mother who had never heard of it before. we talked late into the evening over chai and a heat lamp while waiting for our respective busses. after a long and theraputic talk, we bid farewell in the cappedocian snow.

sisterhood

ironically enough, there is no linguistic distinction between the genders in turkish yet the two sexes lead pretty seggregated lives. as a tourist, one can get an idea of what the men do as you can find them clumped in men-only cafes spitting sunflower seeds, drinking chai and playing tavla. but apart from watching them scurry around the streets in pairs, one cannot get a real look into the lives of women.

in turkey, a visitor is said to bring you good luck. i think that laurren and i can attest to that for the first weekday after i arrived, she received a call from her boss saying that the school had been shut down on account of the swine flu fever. the luck was quickly reciprocated when we accepted an invitation to a luncheon with her co workers -a rare chance for me to get an inside look into typical lives of women (and an added bonus was that they all spoke english as they are english teachers. score!).


once inside, they let their hair down one by one. i felt a tinge of privilage for witnessing women's rights to bare arms. and how delicate they were, white like freshly rolled pastry. we shared stories and looked at our hostess's wedding photos until lunch was served. now i know that i have previously stated that the food is great it turkey, but the best place to eat is in a turkish household. i had ordered these items before but they had never tasted this good and it's not just perception, believe me! we talked of arranged marriages, future prospects, having children, breast reduction surgery, school trips, and body image among other things. two little trouble makers ran around the apartment and every soul in the room contributed to the collective motherhood that was in abundance -except when it was time to breastfeed! laurren received a crash course on how to wear a head scarf as i entertained the little ones with a bouncy ball. when the conversation dwindled and the kids got grumpy, our gracious host offered gifts of head scarfs that she decorated herself! i left with a positive electric feeling similar to the way one feels after a nurturing yet invigorating hug. filled with food and pleasantry, laurren and i headed over to the beauty salon to complete our femine feast.

mediterranean meditation

Oz drove Sechel (his wife), Laurren and i for 8 hours from ankara to kas (more appropriately named paradise) in the pursuit of diving and relaxation. the bliss was not realized until the next morning when sunlight illuminated the splendor from our balcony! the mountains were coated with shore lines and decorated with paragliders dangling above them against the backdrop of fluffy, white clouds. laurren, sechel and i skipped through the trails that nonchalantly lead to ancient amphitheaters and picturesque seaside hang outs at every turn! we head to the rocky beach where i played my didgeridoo for the first time in months (validating the curious questions/glances from anyone seeing me lug the awkard package around) and dipped in the transparrent mediterranean. in the distance, turkish music soared from ships decked in the stark red and white of the turkish flag summoning the celebrators.


and what a celebration it was! it turns out that we arrived for turkey's independence day in one of the only cities that actually celebrates it! the raki flowed lıke lıon's mılk and the hıps moved lıke shakira's to black sea beats in between rows of eager diners. a confeti decorated youth marchıng band proceeded the speradic firework spectacle. im happy to say that i survived my first raki experience, as i heeded the warnings about sipping too fast. unfortunately, laurren wasnt so lucky but came out of it alive!


needless to say, our lax agenda was much appreciated the following days.

all or nothing

in my truly turkish experience today, i lost all of my prescious hair -and i mean all- at a beauty salon in ankara. unwittingly, i was signed up for the works when i expected just the usual half leg/ bikini treatment but apparently the qur'an encourages every hair to be gone (it's somewhere in the back). when my torturer motioned for me to turn around i had visions of laurrence of arabia taking his 100 lashings -a secondary punishment to this in my opinion. it could have been the stockholm syndrome taking presedence but in that bare, medical looking room there were smiles exchanged between heavy breaths and spastic jerks.

pain is nothing to me now! next step, childbirth!!!



in an effort to make amends with our angry skin, laurren and i indulged in the full treatment at the hamami (turkish bath) the next day. i have to say that it was really relieving to not be the only gangly, confused tourist in this adventure! even finding the place was a task in itself. with lonley planet in hand our eyes skanned every corner for any sign of a street name (an anomaly in turkey). we were literally chased out of a few hamamis on acount of our using the man's entrance instead of the woman's! the third time this embarrassing event repeated, lauren had the brilliant idea of jumping in a cab and letting the taxi driver deal with locating it. in an amusing turn of events, he drove around the block to a place we had previously traversed! we paid him the 3.6 turkish lira and scurried into the correct entrance this time.

from the beginning, we were in a haze -a white haze. following the prompts of the women working there, we decorated our shoes with plastic booties and followed their lead to our changeroom. nervous and naive, we didn't know what norm to prepare for. in another stroke of genius, laurren decided to take a trip to the bathroom to scope out the scene to see what was appropriate (not) to wear. against the objections of the women working there, she scuttled through the steam to the bathroom, took a peek and reported back. we then stumbled out with our towels on and the provided plastic sandals. we were led into this high ceiling marble heaven lined with taps overflowing the vases beneath with water. captivated and slightly shocked, we slowly caught on to the sequence that we were to follow: wet selves with water like bathing goddesses, lie face up on pedastal in the middle of the room, endure the pain of exfoiliating recently waxed legs, turn when tapped on the bum two times, delight in watching large amounts of expired skin shed, get rinsed, lie a second time face up, notice the natural sunlight sparkling through star shaped sky lights, get lathered and massaged, turn when tapped on the bum two times, resist the urge to fall asleep in relaxed state, stand up and stooper over vase a second time, rinse self at leisure -and i mean leisure! mid massage, a woman broke out into a haunting hum filling the entire room with echos of minor messages.

yes, the turks certainly do have it figured out! if only ron andrews would catch on...