A postal query

Every time I go on vacation, I need to verify at least twelve postal addresses belonging to friends who move often or live in multiple places. I should develop some kind of web registry where people can update their information, but where not just anyone can read it. I would not recommend posting them as comments, as I am presently immersed in a shooting war with various spammers who want to hock pills and stolen software to my esteemed readership.

In the mean time, friends anywhere are encouraged to email me their addresses (to milan dot ilnyckyj at politics dot ox dot ac dot uk). If I get more than twenty requests, I will probably only fill the first twenty. After all, I have already sent about eighteen.

Within volcanic rock

Tree and Ihlara Valley

By taking us further than we could have gone on our own, today’s tour was very worthwhile. Starting in Goreme, we visited the eight story underground city of Derinkuyu: hewn from solidified lava and used by Christians to hide from attacking Arab armies. The amount of effort that must have gone into construction must have been immense, with dozens of large rooms per level and hundreds or thousands of tonnes worth of rock to extract to the surface. While both my father and I found some of the passages extremely low – I was hunched over with my small backpack scraping the ceiling – many of the rooms were impressively large.

After a forty-five minute drive through tiny villages and barren countryside, we arrived at the lip of the Ihlara Valley. The small river at the bottom, about as substantial as Mosquito Creek in North Vancouver, is the only running water we have seen so far in Turkey. The canyon was somewhat deeper than Capilano Canyon, and was likewise composed of layers of hardened lava from nearby volcanoes. Walking through it, we had a chance to get to know the other members of the group. I got to talk shop with a fellow photo enthusiast wielding a Leica rangefinder.

After walking down the valley for an hour, we had lunch and headed over to the Selime Monastary. Like the underground city, it was composed of rooms carved from volcanic rock. It was unusual in that it was carved into some of the large conical rock structures that are all over the countryside here. Inside are about fifty rooms, some large cathedric spaces with upper galleries. The whole place was like the ultimate fantasy of any child who has built a fort, and it ranks among the most enjoyable things we have seen in Turkey. Leaving the tour group to explore some galleries and passages with Ivanka – my headlamp and MagLite being put to use – was excellent fun.

Most tours in Turkey seem to involve a ‘demonstration,’ in which the group gets led through the shop of a very expensive merchant and given apple tea. Today’s was a shop dealing in precious and semi-precious stones. To me, all the jewellery, vases, and miscellaneous other things looked just like the stuff that gets trucked out at garage sales and sold at second hand shops. It may be made of Onyx and weigh three times as much but, to my eye, it looks exactly like the cheap plastic knockoff and just as ugly.

To those who find themselves in Goreme, I recommend Andromeda Tours (though agencies and hotels seem to change names often here). Their price was good for a tour that went so far, had such a capable guide, and included a good lunch.

Tomorrow’s plan is fairly amorphous, but will probably centre around walking in the countryside and visiting the open air museum. Tonight, the plan is raki and backgammon, followed by a traditional Turkish dinner being made by the family that owns the place where we are staying.

Best wishes to all, from cold fingers.

Photo backup

I’ve copied the 160 or so digital photos that I have taken so far onto this internet cafe computer. Due to a less-than-zippy internet connection, it would take about ten hours to transmit the 155 megabyte file. As such, I have squirreled it away in a system folder, to return to when I can come back with my USB memory stick. The only alternative would be sacrificing all the music on my iPod Shuffle, which would hardly be wise with another noisy fourteen hour bus ride in a few days’ time. Simon & Garfunkel, along with my noise isolating Etymotic ER6i headphones, are the only reason I got any sleep last night.

The reason for burying the folder with my images is mostly an observation that dozens of people have left similar little caches of Turkish holiday snaps in more conventional places. There is some voyeuristic pleasure to be gleaned from skimming over them. They range from shots so professional that I am tempted to steal them to those that would prompt me to offer the photographer a few basic lessons.

With the sun down, it is now well and truly too cold to type in this unheated and open-doored cafe. Adieu until tomorrow.

Visiting Turkey’s chilly interior

Turkish mezze

Typing with gloves on, it seems appropriate to note that Cappadocia is much colder than Istanbul. As we walked through a valley of odd sedimentary rock formations beside the town of Goreme, there was still a thick layer of frost on the shaded patches of browned grass. The general feel of the place is that of a desert at night: as became apparent as I first glanced out the bus window as the dawn was breaking.

Goreme is definitely a tourist town in an off season. After eight hours here, we know most of the tourists by name. Of the nine hotels we looked into, two were unlocked but entirely unmanned. In the end, we chose to stay at the Panorama Pension, which has some excellent rooms and a very friendly family as owners and operators. The yoghurt and fruit syrup (I will need to look up the name when I have my food book with me) that they served along with breakfast was superb. I am looking forward to the traditional Turkish dinner, modified to be more vegetarian, that we have been promised for one of our three nights. A word of warning to devout vegetarians or vegans travelling in Turkey: almost all cooked meals, from kebobs to rice pilav, apparently involve meat or seafood broth. Apparently, most restaurants do not consider such broths to negate the ‘vegetarian’ status of a dish. I am pragmatic enough to accept consumption of such as the price for not surviving on pretzels for the next seven days.

Tomorrow, we are going on a tour that takes in 200km worth of sights that we would never have been able to reach by our own devices. That said, the 25 Lira (C$20) cost of renting a moped for a day is somewhat tempting. I’ve never ridden such a vehicle, and this might be an unusually good place to try it out – with the minor caveat that hospital facilities are probably far distant. The five seconds or so I once spent riding Astrid’s moped on campus at UBC have made me curious about further exposure.

After fourteen hours on the bus with negligible sleep, I have no doubt that I will sleep well tonight. Likewise, given a shower with a ‘hot’ tap that delivers liquid no warmer than the air, I am sure I will wake up well also.

My Name is Red

This morning, I finished Orhan Pamuk’s My Name is Red. The fact that I left the last fifteen pages of this mystery story unread for a day is not a good sign. Indeed, each of the potential murderers was so similar that the final revelation felt a bit trivial. One pretentious and vindictive illustrator rapidly blurs together with all the others. Likewise, the potentially interesting commentary about European influences on Islamic art quickly became repetitive. The best part about the book were the vignettes presented by the coffee shop storyteller, as he personified a gold coin, a dog, and other similar things. I also very much appreciate my mother’s consideration in sending me such a book just before my trip to Turkey.

Given Pamuk’s acclaim, it seems most sensible to say that the book was simply not for me. Just as I can appreciate bits of Joyce, without appreciating the sweep of his longer books, the same can be said with regard to this novel. Time permitting, I will read my father’s copy of Pamuk’s non-fiction book Istanbul over the remainder of the trip.

More Turkish neighbourhoods

Mosque detail, Fatih Istanbul

We managed to stike out a bit more from Istanbul’s standard tourist track today: visiting the university and a more conservative neighbourhood called Fatih. It made for quite a lot of walking, altogether, but it offered more of a glimpse into how city dwellers here generally live. Ivanka’s ability to pick up a smattering of Turkish very quickly has been quite impressive. She is already able to communicate desires and numbers to shopkeepers: something far beyond the capacity of my father or I. Probably, spending the last few months living just across the Black Sea has been useful, for her, in this regard.

Starting in one hour, we have a fourteen hour bus journey to Cappadocia. During the ride, I mean to sleep, write a second battery of twelve or so postcards, and give a more comprehensive look to the language book that Antonia gave me (I have already finished the one on food, and look forward to trying some Raki). We will be staying in a place called Goreme, which supposedly caters a bit more to the backpacking sort than to your standard tourists. We will be spending four days and three nights there and given how it is generally listed along with Ephesis as an essential tourist spot, I am quite sure there will be internet access.

Gay marriage back under debate

Most annoyingly, it seems that Canada’s Conservative Party is trotting out gay marriage, which is presently legal in Canada, for new Parliamentary debate.

As I have written before, Parliament does not have the right to stop gay people from getting married. The right to not suffer discrimination supersedes the authority of Parliament to legislate, by virtue of the Charter of Rights and Freedoms. This is not a right that can be restricted in keeping with “reasonable limits prescribed by law as can be demonstrably justified in a free and democratic society.” While the Notwithstanding Clause could be used to nullify that legality, doing so would be profoundly illiberal.

The whole thing is likely to be a vote-loser for the Tories, since even Canadians who have problems with gay marriage now generally consider the matter settled. Hopefully, the Tories will take some well-deserved flak for this political theatre and all parties will realize that they should leave the matter as it stands in the future.

My previous entries on this are here: 1 February 2006 and 3 June 2006.

Intercontinental crossings

Bosphorus Bridge, Turkey

Today’s boat trip involved bouncing back and forth between Europe and Asia while heading northwards up the Bosphorus. After less than two hours – spent watching passing ships, seagulls, and the countless jellyfish in the waters beside the ferry – we found ourselves at the northernmost village on the Asian side.

The place was well populated with tourists, despite there being only one ferry per day which pauses between about noon and 3:00pm to allow people to see the place. As the motors began to warm up at three, you could see many people in restaurants with ocean views hurrying to settle bills and put on coats. A hill overlooking the Black Sea contains the ruins of at least two generations of fortresses, while the town itself contained both more cats and more assault rifle toting soldiers than anywhere else I have seen in Turkey. As we ate lunch at a roadside cafe, at least five canvas-topped trucks full of them rumbled by. Clearly, the northern entrance to such a strait remains strategic.

Both in spite of and on account of the ever-present haze that sharply reduces visibility around Istanbul, I have some photos that I am excited about from the crossings. In particular, swooping sea birds in front of misted freighters and the clean lines of the two intercontinental suspension bridges should be attractive. I am reaching the point (with 120 images on my memory card and one roll of film shot), where I begin to worry about unexpected data problems. I wish I had some mechanism for putting them online now, but carrying my six pound and worry-inducing laptop around Turkey wasn’t really a good option.

Tomorrow, it seems we will be making a twelve hour journey to either Ephesis or Capadoccia, though the final decision remains to me made. Personally, I am quıte sure that Ephesis would be amazing, but it seems likely to emulate other Mediterranean spots fairly closely. Capadoccia, I expect, would be more specific to Turkey. Forgive my spellings if they are incorrect; both of those above have hundreds of Google hits, but no Wikipedia pages.

Notable domes of Istanbul

Ceiling of the Mosque of Suleyman the Magnificent

Today, my father and I took a guided tour around Istanbul’s most essential historical sites. The architecture itself was quite spectacular, though language problems and a certain lack of interest on the part of the guide, who did not seem to appreciate questions, made the tour itself less engaging than it might have been.

In the morning, we saw the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia, as well as the reasonably unremarkable expanse of the Hippodrome between them. It used to be a stadium, but nothing remains of it save a couple of pillars and an open area. The Blue Mosque was certainly impressive. The elegance and symmetry of the domes, coupled with that of the tiles and calligraphy, make it an inspiring structure. It is a great shame that they have chosen to hang electric lights from thick black cables descending all the way from the dome high above: they diminish the grandeur of the space.

The Hagia Sophia was the day’s most impressive site. Ancient and gloomy in feeling, the inescapable particulate matter of the air here creates sharp beams crossing the vast space. First an Orthodox church, then a mosque, and ultimately converted into a museum by Ataturk, the great domed structure also seems to have a history worthy of further examination. On account of the low light, I was glad for my two Pound mini-tripod. I suspect the photos from today will make me less annoyed that it broke (fixably, but not without tools) during the first couple of hours of real usage.

During the rest of the day, we peeked into the Grand Bazaar, failed to have carpets sold to us during a sponsored pause in the tour, and visited the Topkapi Palace. We also saw a lot of bad traffic and, last of all, the day’s most elegant structure, ın the form of the Suleymaniye Mosque. In better shape than the Blue Mosque, as well as farther off the normal tourist path, the interior is quite stunning, with an intriging interplay of colours and geometry. Despite the broken tripod, I am excited about the photos I took there.

The next task is to pick up some dinner, followed by meeting my cousin Ivanka at Ataturk Airport. Tomorrow, we will probably be heading up the Bosphorus to the Black Sea. My plan is to pretend that I am on the way to the Yalta Conference.

Herbivorous adventures

One notable feature of Istanbul are the men (invariably men) who stand in front of every stall, shop, and restaurant and try to convince passers-by that they should enter. They are always fairly energetic about it: sometimes bordering on the aggressive. That made the following exchange that much funnier:

Man outside kebab restaurant encourages us to come in, stressing how fine an eating experience we would have.

My father: “Do you have anything without meat? We’re vegetarians.” [Actually, it’s just me, but it’s kind of him to help.]

Kebab man, incredulously: “Why?,” said as though he has never heard a more mad idea.

Us: generally shrugging shoulders, rather than trying to explain.

Him: “Then, you must go to another restaurant.”

Now, they did have vegetarian items on the menu and, in my experience, not even a restaurant called the Steak and Burgers BBQ will actually tell you not to eat there, if you are vegetarian. My vegetarian friends have frequently been reassured over the phone, to later be presented with only salad and french fry options (the latter being only dubiously unrelated to the killing of animals). It makes for an odd contrast with the people who will follow you for a block, trying to sell you a hat in which you never expressed the slightest interest.

On another note, somebody on the tour that my father and I took today who learned, at lunch, that I was a vegetarian later asked to have his picture taken with me, on account of the fact. Odd experiences, in both cases.