Happy Thanksgiving

It's just after 11pm. I'm all packed. My suitcase is full of gifts/food and a bit of clothing. I have to say, I hate to pack. I avoided it as long as I could but, in the end, I was good. The dishes are washed, the clean laundry is put away and my outfit for tomorrow is selected. I'm ready to go.

Unfortunately, I am not tired. I don't know how I'm going to manage to sleep tonight. I wondered why I didn't want to pack for this trip since I'm really looking forward to it…but just because I'm looking forward to it doesn't mean I don't have any nerves. I suppose it's obvious why.

This is the funny thing about going to see Kent after a couple of weeks apart--I've missed him but I've been reasonably happy on my own (certainly no worse than before he came on the scene). The time we spent together was great but it wasn't so terrible being without him. (To clarify: I would much prefer to be with him, but I wasn't dying.) But today? Boy, was I distracted thinking about our reunion.

Still, it was a good day. I met some US friends for lunch--a woman from my soccer team and her partner. We ate at a great neighborhood place. Excellent. They were planning to visit the nearby Manufacture des Gobelins, an historical and still operating tapestry factory, and I joined them. We took the tour and saw some of the weavers at work, using the old fashioned methods. Pretty interesting.

After that, I did a little food shopping and headed home where I proceeded to relax and not pack for most of the day. I cooked a simple dinner, eventually packed, knitted my socks (almost finished) and, now, I'm wondering about sleep. I always have a problem sleeping before a trip and, I'm afraid, this will be no exception.

Finally, I want to wish everyone back home a Happy Thanksgiving. I'm grateful I get to celebrate with good friends this year--even if we're shifting the actual celebration to the weekend. It still counts in my book. I'm also looking forward to introducing my funny American ways to Kent. Too bad they won't be showing football on tv.

Grateful for: turkey.

Something

While the vast majority of my time is spent basically doing nothing, it's not like I can actually spend all my time doing nothing. (Even my nothing usually means knitting, watching a movie (usually at the same time--I have two nearly complete socks that I just started on after getting back from my travels), reading blogs, reading other things, writing a little tiny bit, chatting online, washing dishes, etc.).

I am trying to make sure I take full advantage of Paris while I have the chance. I have heaps of museums left to visit but I'm a little more interested in gastronomical wonders and window-shopping. Oh, and my continued quest to be sociable.

To that end, let's see what I've been up to.

Thursday. I went to a gathering for the release of the Beaujolais Nouveau. I had to trek rather far a field to get to the meeting place in the second. It was a little out of the way bar/restaurant. It took me about half an hour to get there. I talked to a couple of people and had a tiny sip of some terrible wine (worse than the one euro stuff Kent bought on a whim).

Friday. I was lucky to catch Kent online and we had a long virtual chat in the morning. In the afternoon I trekked to a very exclusive candy store I'd read about (Denise Acabo) and got some treats. After, I went to take a look at the Galeries Lafayette. It's quite a fancy department store and actually a tourist destination--Asian folks were arriving by the busload! I couldn't imagine actually shopping there since stores of that size overwhelm me and make it impossible to decide on anything but I did enjoy the pretty, pretty lights and window displays. Afterwards, I walked to a nearby theater and went to the movies, "Body of Lies." Enjoyable enough but nothing special.

Saturday. I stayed home feeling tired most of the day. In the evening, I got myself moving and I went out to watch the All Blacks (NZ national team) whomp Wales. (Rugby, I'm talking about rugby. Blame Kent.) I only saw the second half, which means that I missed the haka (war dance, no joke) the All Blacks do to start the game. I understood almost everything going on to large amount of time spent talking about rugby with Kent.

After, I stopped for dinner at little Japanese place. Overheard English being spoken nearby and joined in the conversation and then was invited to sit with them. Nice folks. They invited me to go out with them but I was tired I had to say no. (Sitting around all day tires me out, apparently.) Two of the women, sisters, gave me a lift to the metro and we exchanged numbers.

It occurred to me that people don't really talk to you in bars in Paris. At the pub-style place where I watched the game, English speakers abounded and no one even said hello. In fact, the service was so non-existent that I didn't even order a drink. Made for an economical evening at least. Yet, at the restaurant, squeezed so close to the semi-English speaking group, it seemed natural to say something and they right away were friendly and receptive. Maybe this is just my experience but I wonder if restaurants are more likely to be meeting places in Paris that bars.

Sunday. I ventured out in the early afternoon for a sandwich but it was very cold and wet so I didn't take a longer walk. In the evening, I had dinner with landlords, their little daughter (adorable) and another friend of theirs from out of town. I really like them and we would be friends by now under other circumstances. Well, who's to say we're not friends? They even cut me a deal on the last month's rent--agreeing to apply the month's deposit I gave them towards the rent and accepting a smaller deposit for the last month instead. Because I've been such a good tenant--but it was easy, since they're very good landlords. I'll miss them!

Monday. I took a very long walk and, on my quest to see more of the commercial side of Paris I went to both BHV and Le Bon Marche. I've been to BHV before and been within spitting distance of the Le Bon Marche without realizing it.

I ate a late lunch at the BHV cafe:



And enjoyed the amazing view:


Again, I didn't buy much--picked up a couple of presents and some food--but I was impressed with the size and bustle of both places (neither had the impressive window displays of the Galeries Lafayette or Printemps). I walked between the two stores and got caught in the rain with no umbrella, but I stayed warm enough thanks to my recently completed hat.

On the walk, I stopped in Deyrolle's, a famous taxidermy shop that JenA told me about. Crazy. Of course, I didn't buy anything but they had a lot of little things on offer, like pinned butterflies, moths and beetles. Yikes. Interesting, to say the least.



I actually bought myself a nice looking steak at Le Grande Epicere (right next to Le Bon Marche) but was too tired to cook when I got home. I ate it the next night instead.

Tuesday. A quiet day because I was all walked out from Monday. I went to the movies (an oldie this time) in the afternoon, stopped for coffee (decaf because I drank too much coffee on Monday and didn't sleep well) and a cookie (not very Parisian, but oh well). I walked a little way towards home but in the end took the metro. I cooked myself a good dinner and was able to fall asleep before 1am and even sleep straight through the night. I don't know why my sleep has been so off recently but I seem to be settling out a little.

Wednesday (aka Today). I realized after talking to my landlords on Sunday that the carte de sejour (residency card) that I lost was really my permanent card. The "temporaire" meant that I had temporary residency, not that the card itself was temporary. Ach. To that end, I called yesterday and made an appointment to come in and get a new card. That was an interesting conversation since it was all in French but I managed, barely, to make myself understood, though they weren't pleased that I didn't have a photocopy of the card, the number of the card or a police report. They still gave me an appointment time.

Today, because I'll need it for my appointment, I went by my local police prefecture and filled out a little form saying I'd lost the card. After I filled out the form, the lady made a copy and gave me the original. She started talking about the American Embassy. I got very confused because I couldn't see what on earth the American Embassy had to do with anything. In the end, her co-worker chimed in and I tried to explain I already had an appointment with the appropriate French office to get the new card. Well, who knows what I'm really supposed to do. I just hope that I can get back into the country when I return from England next week!

Speaking of which, did I mention that I'm going to England again to 1) spend Thanksgiving with Alicia and family and 2) to see Kent (who is coming to Alicia's)? (Um, not necessarily in that order, but the plan to spend Thanksgiving with Alicia is long-standing.) Well, I am. I leave on Friday (missing actual Thanksgiving--we'll celebrate on the weekend) and come back to Paris on Wednesday.

Now, I have to do some laundry and go meet the English-speaking (hooray!) knitting group later on this evening.

Grateful for: exploration.

It's not you...no, wait, it is you

I have this cheerful post started about Paris and all the chocolate and pastries I'm searching out and my attempts to make sure I see and eat all the good things here before I leave…and the nice French people I met while I was out having dinner alone last night.

I'd like to write about that, but, instead, I have to ask, why does my mother hate me?

Tonight, I called her. I called her about a week ago, when I got back from my adventure with Kent. She'd sent at least one cryptic email while I was abroad and I knew, just from the tone, that she was not pleased with me. The last real conversation we'd had was one where she was angry with me for not staying in touch. So, I thought, calling her in a fairly timely fashion would please her. Plus, I was making the effort…that's good, right?

Wrong. As soon as she answered the phone, I could tell something was off. She wasn't happy that I called. Maybe she's just not happy at all right now, that's always a possibility with her. I asked what was going on, she told me a little. She seemed to perk up a bit. She asked me about Kent. When I answered, she got silent and said, "I don't understand. Let's talk about something else."

I said, "What don't you understand? Maybe I can explain it."

"No. It's not that. No."

"What's the problem?" I said. "Is there a problem?"

She said, "You know, my world doesn't revolve around you."

"I don't think that. I started the conversation asking about you, I hope you noticed. I could tell right away there was a problem. [Aside, I don't know how much of her problem with me has to do with Kent. Likely very little since she's said things like this to me many times and it's not man-related.] Maybe you can tell me what's wrong?"

Mom said, "It's that…I don't know if I want to do this."

"Do what?"

Apparently, the answer to that is to have a relationship with me. Oy vey. How many times are we going to go down this road? I asked what she wanted. She said someone who would be civil to her and sincerely wanted to spend time with her. I took offense at that and then she gave one example of when I "yelled and screamed" when we last saw each other (a complete exaggeration, but I will admit I lost my temper). The problem is that I was "out of control" a few (??) times. I felt blindsided by this because she was recalling an incident from our trip to Paris together back in April.

You know, if she had a problem with something I did back in April, it would have been nice if she'd talked to me about it then. I know I apologized at the time and I'm even pretty sure we discussed it. I'm not inclined to apologize anymore. Enough.

I finally said, "You're over involved and I can't do it this way anymore."

She agreed but added, "It's a two sided thing."

I said, "I don't see how your over involvement is my doing."

"Maybe you're encouraging it. Maybe it's something you want."

I said I certainly wasn't encouraging it and that I knew I didn't want it. I was getting really angry by then (no yelling or screaming, though!) and I said, "You know, you do win for the number of times of being out of control in this relationship, that's for sure."

She started to say something else but I knew I would start yelling if I stayed on the phone any longer, so I said, "I have to go now" and hung up. Ah, good, more reason for her to hate me, decide to stop having a relationship with me and evidence that I'm out of control. Awesome.

I tried to call Amanda, Pele and Audrey. No one answered--people have lives. I'm very sad now but maybe I should be happy? Every time I try to please her, it fails. It backfires. It's sad because the last conversation we had was friendly and good and I was hoping we were back on an even keel. I'm tired of her moodiness and how she's always taking it out on me. How she demands that I stay in touch because she's worried about me but then isn't pleased when I make an effort. I wonder, is she depressed? Am I missing something? Have I been that bad? Is it the boyfriend thing? Dammit. I was a little lonely today and hoping for a nice chat with my mother. Where is she when I need her?

Grateful for: separation.

Le Kissing

Last night, I walked by the Galeries Layfette and Printemps (two grand department stores, GL is more historic and a popular tourist destination) in order to see their lighted displays. Crowds of tourists, both French and foreign, gathered by the most decorative window displays, appreciating the animation and whimsy.

Near one of the Printemps windows, not far from the entrance to the RER, a couple stood, kissing. Seriously, deep, intense, kissing. Both halves of this (male/female) couple were fashionably dressed--he in a slim suit, she in a chic, full-skirted coat, stockings and heels--in their forties, and completely unconcerned about their surroundings. I crossed the street to get a better look at the firework-esque light display covering the Printemps building but I also kept my eye on the couple. I thought they might be kissing goodbye and that soon I would see one of them break away and head underground to catch a train.

I waited at least a minute. When they stopped kissing, they smiled at each other, clasped hands and crossed the street. They walked right by me, heading south, away from both the metro and RER.

I walked the block to the nearest metro station and I laughed to myself. This is Paris! People stop to kiss on street in what looks to an American like a fervent goodbye, when, in fact, it's merely because they feel like a kiss. I have never seen this anywhere else--not in all the traveling I did across Europe this year, never in the States, and certainly not in the UK or Turkey. Even though I found it peculiar at first, I am almost used to it now and I think I'll miss the sight when I go home. (As to whether I've taken advantage of the looser social mores regarding public displays of affection, I'll leave that to your imagination.)

Printemps Lights:


Grateful for: affection.

Spendy

Since I've been back, I've gone on a mini shopping spree. Not that I've actually bought anything extravagant: a new cheap watch (the old one broke); aluminum water bottle (half the price I'd seen them for before); antiseptic ointment (maybe that doesn't count); pajamas (too pricey--but on sale); and several pastries (yum!). It's probably a reaction from hanging out with Kent all these weeks. Since he was short on funds, we kept expenditures to the occasional museum, meal or drink. Also, I don't think he's a big shopper under any circumstances, and I'm not either, but it was still fun to go and pick up a couple of things that were semi-needed.

One more item on my list is a new date book. As a treat, I'd gotten myself a nice Moleskine one that covered September '08 thru December '09. I brought it along on our travel adventure and managed to lose it. It was the only thing I lost the entire time--a bummer because, not only did it have lists and addresses and opening hours for all kinds of things I want to do in Paris, I also had my carte de sejour tucked into its inside pocket. Whoops. Let's just hope that I won't have a problem getting back into France after my next trip to London--in two weeks. (It was the temporary card, which means that, someday, the permanent one will arrive, otherwise I'd report the loss to the police.)

On Monday night, with great effort, I dragged myself to an expat happy hour. I was meeting American friend, Nadine, there or I probably wouldn't have made it. Anyway, it was good to see her, and another acquaintance, and mostly the three of us chatted. The place was insanely crowded and the vaulted basement ceiling was so echo-y that I thought I was going to lose my mind.

A young man walked by and half smiled at us. I gave him a full smile and said hi, then he said hi, Nadine said hi and we all started talking. As soon as he opened his mouth, I knew he was Australian (correct!) but he didn't look Australian (his parents are from Sri Lanka, but he's a native).

After spending so much time with Kiwis I have a funny reaction to meeting Australians. First, I want tell them that I've been to Gallipoli. Next, I want to give them a hard time. Now, the piss taking (s**t giving) usually occurs place between men (and not even all men), so I couldn't go there, but, really, what was I thinking? I'm not a Kiwi. What I did say was, "My boyfriend's a Kiwi so I feel like I should give you a hard time." He laughed and said, "Oh, right. Russell Crowe. They don't like that we claim him. But who wants him?"

I laughed too, because he was right. "Exactly what I said--'are you sure you want to take credit for that?'"

He also mentioned that he was looking for people to drink with (he wondered where all the other Aussies were) and I thought it was a shame Kent wasn't there. Later on, Nadine got his number and they're planning to try out the Australian bar in Paris (it has three branches!) sometime. Possibly, I'll even be invited.

PS Did you notice that Kent left comments? That's a first! He's the best.

Grateful for: getting out of the house.

Life in the slow lane

Since returning to Paris, I've been in a cocoon.

On Thursday night, I met Dara for dinner at 9:30pm. I had actually already eaten since I made a quick grocery run earlier in the day. I just had a salad.

In theory, we were supposed to go to a hear some hip-hop DJs around 11pm. After a good conversation (you know I had some stories to tell), we headed to the nearby club.

When I realized the cover was 22 euros, I decided to call it a night. Luckily, Dara was meeting another friend so I didn't feel like I'd abandoned her. It just wasn't going to work for me--I was exhausted (still) and feeling frugal. Also, hip-hop DJs? I'd say the odds were only 50-50 that I would have enjoyed it. (As Dara and her friend stayed out until 3am, I think I made the right call.)

The next day, I stayed home. I focused on my knitting. I got completely unpacked. I intended to do laundry, but that didn't happen until today.

On Sunday, I met another American friend, Nadine, for a late lunch. We don't know each other well, but we had a good time and I talked her ear off as well.

While it is good to be standing still and have a comfortable warm bed to sleep in every night, I can't help but feel a little lonely. For the last month and a half, I had constant company. And I liked it.

I've always needed a lot of alone time and even when I wasn't choosing to be alone, usually, I didn't mind. But, now, maybe it's a reaction, but I'm feeling lonely. I have plans tonight. I'll have dinner with my landlords sometime this week. I can go to a (hopefully English-speaking) knitting group on Wednesday. I can go to the movies...that would probably cheer me up. In less than two weeks, I'm going to England to see Alicia for American Thanksgiving. I'll see Kent then too. Next month, I have an old friend coming to visit. And so on...but all that isn't making me feel any better.

I also would have hoped that my cold would be 100% gone by now, but it lingers. It's not terrible but I'm awfully tired despite sleeping fairly well the last few night. Soon, hopefully, it will really be gone.

It feels ridiculous to complain at all about being in Paris. I'm still happy to be here. I still like my neighborhood. I'm not looking forward to going home or starting work again. I just would like to have more company in the meantime. Sigh.

Also, please scroll down for some more entries about the last week of my travels. It's not scintillating stuff but Kent said he would read and comment (right--he may not but he said he would), so you might find something a little more interesting there eventually.

Grateful for: the calm.

Home=Paris?

Just a quick note to let you know I'm back in Paris, had a great trip and I have quite a lot to say but not much energy to write. I've spent most of yesterday and today relaxing and planning my NEXT trip, plus taking care of household chores. Ah, the mundane tasks do pile up when you take off from your regular life for a few weeks! (Even when regular life consists of doing a whole lot of nothing.)

What's next: one or more posts about the last week of my trip. A little bit about the man I've been traveling with--but how much, I'm not sure. And, yes, he is my boyfriend. All of you who predicted I'd meet someone, you were right. I didn't expect it, I wasn't looking for it, but it happened.

That's it for now. Thanks for your patience.

Grateful for: home base.

Turkey: Days 7 & 8

We arrived at the Istanbul bus station about an hour before schedule, at 6am. After checking on the bus schedules for Sofia (to make sure the guys could get there easily to catch their flight to London), we took a long, crowed tram ride back to the hostel.

Even though, the bus ride was easy, I was still beat. The bulk of the day was spent resting. In the evening, Kent, Tom and I had dinner together. We carried on drinking for a little while, though I stopped after my second beer. I went back to the hostel a little earlier than the guys…but it wasn't a very restful night. I was leaving the next day for Paris and I was sad that our trip was at its end. Even though I knew I'd see Kent again--at least one more time--it really hit me that this was the end of a great adventure. (And that I'd miss him--a lot.)

The next day, we started slowly, but I insisted that we get some sightseeing in before I took off for the airport. Kent half offered to accompany me there but we agreed it was too much (and would have actually interfered with his timing for catching the bus).

We spent a few hours walking around the Grand Bazaar, eating lunch, drinking coffee and going over the last week's events. I haven't mentioned this, but Kent is something of a diarist. He makes an entry for each day, though not necessarily every day--meaning he often plays catch up and makes several entries at once. Sometimes, I'd go over events with him, helping him remember what we'd done or seen on a particular day. His diary is more a record of what happened each day, in contrast to the writing I do, which, while it is also reportorial at times, is more likely to delve into my feelings about what I did or who I encountered. Still, I admired his consistency and I wished I had a little more of that ethic about my own writing. On this day, though, Kent helped me make a few notes about what we'd done each day in Turkey since I hadn't written anything since we left Greece.

After walking around, we went back to the hostel. I was packed and we just hung around a little with Tom up on the top floor, drinking coffee and chatting. Kent worked on his diary and I read a little. Eventually, I had to go catch the tram to the airport (as is my wont, I'd opted for public transportation over a shuttle). Kent carried my bag to the tram stop (the first time I'd let him!) and he waited with me until the next one arrived.

(Aside re: trams. The trams are unlike any I've seen elsewhere. They operated on a "closed" system. That is, in order to get to the slightly elevated platform where you catch the tram, you have to go through a gate that requires a token. You don't pay on the tram.)

Kent waited with me outside the gate and we said our goodbyes. When the tram came, I quickly got through the turnstile and squeezed on--Kent watched and he waved goodbye. I waved too.

The trip to the airport was uneventful, though I was a little worried at the transfer stop. I had to get onto the one subway line, which involved walking a little over a block away--but there were no signs directing me for most of the walk. Still, I knew it had to be near, I'd asked and in the tram the stop was marked as a transfer point. I did ask myself why I had to do it the hard way and why couldn't I just spend four euros on the shuttle? But, I found the subway soon enough and even though the ride was long, it let me out at the airport--no more transferring or shuttling involved.

Security was interesting. The first check point was before I entered the terminal. I'd brought a small paring knife on the trip and they dinged me for having it. I promised to check my bag and they let me through (and I got to keep the knife).

Once I checked in and checked my bag, I still had some time to kill. I spent it mostly spending my last 20 lire--on food.

Going through passport control I was asked if I were going to keep traveling or stay in Paris. I was also asked if I'd been traveling alone. Odd. On the Paris side, no questions were asked.

The trip was fine and full meal service was provided. I even took advantage of the free alcohol and had some wine with dinner.

Getting back to Paris meant another long journey on public transportation--the suburban train (RER) to the Metro and then a ten-minute walk home. But I made it, no problem, and was here, safe and sound by midnight.

Grateful for: home base.

Turkey: Day 6

We got up early so we could get to Ephesus before the hordes of tourists. We weren't successful, even though we arrived by 9:30am. All the tour groups were German or French--so we couldn't even eavesdrop on their spiels.

Still, we spent a couple of hours looking all around and it was fantastic. Kent and I wandered in to a slightly separate area and somehow got off the official path. Tom was looking for us and, apparently, so was a guard. We were clueless.

We'd gotten a ride there by one of the pension owners but we decided to walk back. The plan was to see some of the sights in Selcuk, take care of travel plans via the internet, and catch the night bus back to Istanbul.

By this point, I'd bought my air ticket to Paris and I was departing from Istanbul on Wednesday. Kent and Tom had hoped to get tickets to London the same day but had run into some snags. In the end, they got to London via Sofia. After we got back to Istanbul, they took a bus to Sofia on the same day I left and flew from there. An exhausting but more economical option than flying from Istanbul.

It was unseasonably warm and we got pretty hot on the walk back to Selcuk. The town was very quiet but everything was open. We got some lunch, did some internet business, and then took a walk around to see the sights.

In the town, there's a big fortress on a hill and some Roman ruins. The fortress, we'd been told, was closed to the public, but we wandered in its general direction anyway. As we walked through the narrow streets of the town, away from the center, we got plenty of stares and were asked several times where we were from.

Quite near the fortress, a group of young guys started talking to us and said they'd show us how to get there. In fact, we were led to a hole in the storm fence that surrounded the place and we walked right through.

Up on the hill, a couple of horses were grazing but it was otherwise still and empty. We had a great view of the town and felt pretty adventurous for getting to see this forbidden place. (Kent took plenty of photos.)

As we were leaving, Tom was talking with our guide, who then proceeded to ask us for five lire each. Fine. We paid. He then tried to get more money from us and I muttered, "We met your price. No more money." We didn't give him any more money.

We hung around town, got some supper, read, etc., until it was time to catch our 10pm bus to Istanbul.

While I worried about the overnight ride, it was one of the easier overnights I had on the trip. I'm not sure why--maybe I was getting used to it?

Grateful for: access.

Turkey: Day 5

Another long travel day. We thought we could take a bus straight from our town to the next place on our itinerary, Selcuk, which is near the ruins of Ephesus. Unfortunately, when I went to check on the timing in the morning, the bus we were planning to take was sold out. That meant we needed to take a 10am ferry to Canakkale where we could get the 11am bus to Izmir, from which we could catch a mini bus to Selcuk. I found this out at 9:30am.

I went up to the room to tell the guys, but the door was locked. I ran down the lobby and asked the staff where they were, "Internet café!" I dashed across the street to find them…and said we had to hurry.

A note on the internet café: we all had financial and other business to take care of on the internet, which is why they were there. When we first visited the place the day before, we found a room full of 14-year-old and younger boys sitting at about a dozen computers. It was quite a scene.

Since we were all mostly packed, we did manage to get on the 10am ferry and make all the necessary connections. On the last leg of our trip, the shuttle to Selcuk, a young university student befriended us. He asked where we were from and seemed very happy to meet a couple of Kiwis (typical in Turkey) and greeted the American with a more muted enthusiasm. Towards the end of our trip, he engaged me in conversation, asking what did Americans think about Turkey and Turkish people. This was tough to answer because I think, in general, Americans don't think very much about Turkey. I said that and that I thought Turkey was in a tough position, caught between Europe and the Middle East. I'm afraid my subtlety was lost on him.

When we got to Selcuk, it was dark. We had a hostel recommendation but we didn't find the place-- instead we stumbled upon the "Kiwi Pension." How could we not stay there? It was a nice place, though quiet. Cheap, clean and…included breakfast.  We were hoping for a little entertainment too, since the place had a very well-stocked video library. Unfortunately, their tv was broken.

While the town wasn't empty, all of the adult male population out that evening was watching a soccer game. We had dinner and went back to the hostel and drank a few beers.  Then, goodnight.

Grateful for: another safe trip.

Turkey: Day 4

Our tour started at 12:30. Kent and I killed some time in the morning eating the complimentary breakfast (more of what they offered at the hostel: feta cheese, another kind of cheese, odd crunchy salami, tomatoes, cucumbers, eggs, orange drink, instant coffee, tea, bread, honey, butter and jam (in little containers)), while Tom stayed in bed. Eventually, we settled in the lobby and met another Australian couple (husband and wife) who would join us on the tour.

I found it so interesting that the Aussies and Kiwis (and to a much lesser extend, the Brits) attached so much importance to visiting this place. They all knew the names of the major battle sites and the general timeline of events. In fact, talking about it with Kent before we got there, I pretty much knew everything our tour guide had to tell us. Seeing the actual sites, the cemeteries and monuments was very meaningful to my tour companions. I know I didn't experience it the same way they did.

I tried to think of something equivalent for Americans. The D-Day beaches? Perhaps, but it's not a place where we make a pilgrimage. This was like a pilgrimage.  Maybe DC and all of its monuments? I'm not sure.

We got back to the hostel around 4:30 and relaxed for a while before going for a meal with Tom. We were pretty bored. Kent wanted to go to another hostel nearby to see if they had a book exchange. When we got there, the owner and a few of his old-timer buddies were the only people there and they greeted us warmly. We had a beer at their little bar and, eventually, Kent went back to our place and told Tom to come over. We hung out there for a while and then it was late enough to go to sleep--Tom stayed up a for a while watching tv, though. Kent did get a book (he only read half before rejecting it--I adopted it).

Grateful for: new perspective.

Turkey: Day 3

Around 11:30am the three of us, Tom, Kent and I headed out of town to Istanbul's main bus station. We didn't have good directions but, with only a little heartburn, we managed to find it.

Where were we going? Gallipoli. Or near there. Gallipoli is the peninsula. When you want to take a tour of this area, you either stay in Canakkale or Escabat. In the hostel neighborhood, heaps of little travel agencies were selling package tours that included bus, one or two nights accommodation and a guided tour. We decided to piece our own trip together and hopefully save a little money. (In the end, our self-constructed tour was a little cheaper than the package.)

We were disappointed to find the bus fare was more than double what we expected (about 20 euros--a little less than $30), but we were committed. We bought the tickets, got some sandwiches and left on the 12:30 bus.

The ride was over six hours but to compensate, we had a steward who brought us water, coffee (or tea) and pretzels.

We got off the bus in Escabat, checked into a cheap hostel and also signed up for their tour. We were tired and hungry and went looking for a meal. Tom had actually already done the tour, so we went to a restaurant he recommended. Dinner was fine but some unintended hilarity ensued when Tom advised Kent to eat the green bean like peppers garnishing his plate (we all had one or two). "Go on. I ate mine. It wasn't so hot."

Kent took a big bite of the pepper. He started to sweat.

I said, "Was it hot?"

He just nodded. Tom said, "It can't be that bad. Let me try." He munch on Kent's second pepper. He looked like he would explode. I started laughing.

Kent said to me, "Here, you take a little bite. So you can see..."

I said, "I don't think so!"

I took about ten minutes and a lot of sweating for the two of them to get back to normal. They didn't try any more peppers.

Back at the hostel, we tried to watch a movie. The "Gallipoli" movie, in fact. The hostel had about six copies, yet not a single one played more than the opening titles and the first scene. In fact, the only movie we could get to work was a copy of "Troy" dubbed into Turkish. A couple of Aussie tourists, a mother and daughter, were also staying in the hostel and they stopped by to chat with us--and ended up watching "Troy." Kent, who had seen the movie once or twice already, did a very accurate (and amusing) on-the-spot translation.

Everyone was drinking beer, but I got to work on a small bottle of ouzo (already half drunk) that I'd picked up in Greece. I'm not sure how it happened, but I got a little drunk and missed the bulk of the translated Troy. I slept well that night.

Grateful for: drinking buddies.

Turkey: Day 2

Our second day in Istanbul started slowly because Kent was a little hung over. I wish I could have slept later but I reasonably well-rested and ready to see a bit more of the city. I hadn't realized how enormous it was--geographically or population-wise (16 million people!).

We partook of the decent included breakfast (bread, feta cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, salami, olives, tea and instant coffee) and got a leisurely start on the day. (It should be noted that we didn't see Tom until the evening. He'd stayed up late and slept late.)

We decided to walk to the NZ consulate so Kent could find out about voting. It was a very scenic walk--we chose a path along the water. It would have been lovely but for the extremely aggressive drivers. After walking quite a ways, we got to a main bridge (but not the bridge over the Bosphorus) that connects the two European parts of Istanbul.  We'd been looking for a ferry but they didn't run to where we were going. We decided we'd keep walking instead of taking the tram. At the bridge, next to the ferry piers, with tons of people milling around, we each got an excellent fish sandwich for 4 lire (about $3).

After our snack, we walked across the bridge and Kent espied an interesting looking tower (I can't remember its name but a tower of some sort has been on this spot for about 1,500 years, though this one is not that old). We climbed a steep hill to get to it and then paid the silly high entrance fee to go to the top. The tower wasn't very tall but because of its strategic placement, we had an excellent view of the city. We saw the falling apart roofs and innumerable satellite dishes of the nearby houses, the cruise ships docked in the bay, the bridges, the little islands and more.

We continued on our way to the consulate, taking in more mosques, well-fed street cats and very lazy dogs. One dog was so lazy that it didn't bother to eat the piece of bologna someone left right by its head. Maybe it was sick.

We were pretty sure, based on our past experiences, that the consulate would be closed--but no! The office was open, but you couldn't vote there--you had to be at the embassy in Ankara for that or download and mail the appropriate forms. Oh well.

Dusk was falling but we stopped for coffee before heading back to the hostel. We caught the tram back and we were dropped only five minutes from home. We met up with Tom again and had a bite to eat. Tom wanted to go out to a club but Kent and I were too busy plotting our travel plans for the next day so we passed. I was asleep by 1am--plenty late by my lights.

Grateful for: a good look at Istanbul.

Greece and Turkey: Day 1

When we last left this travel story, I was in Greece and getting ready to board a night train to Istanbul. Our last day in Thessaloniki, we split up and Kent went to the Allied Cemetery and I climbed a steep hill trying to find (and eventually succeeding) a monastery. We met for lunch and then split again to pursue separate exploring. He tried to get to the Military History museum and I spent most of my time on the internet. He missed his window, unfortunately. We went for a drink--beer for him, fancy coffee shake for me--and tried to watch the sunset over the Mediterranean at one of the many harbor-side cafes in town. It was lovely, but just as the sun approached the sea, it was hidden behind a think bank of clouds. Sigh.

We walked back to our hotel and picked up the luggage. We walked the ten minutes or so to the train station, stopping for a bite to eat along the way.

It was my first ride in a real sleeper car. Well, that's not exactly true. When I was in college, I went on an eight-week tour of Europe that included two weeks in the USSR (that was). On that trip, we took two overnight train rides in six (or was it four?) berth sleepers. Even back then in my late teens I don't recall getting much sleep, possibly due to being on an upper bunk and the worry of rolling out.

On this train, we had a two-berth compartment all to ourselves, complete with a sink and non-functional mini-fridge. This time, I got the lower, but I still didn't sleep well. It didn't help that we were awoken at 2am for passport control (Greece) then at 3am (Turkey) and around 3:30am I had to get off the train and pay 15 euros for my Turkish visa. I knew this would happen--I didn't know that Kent, being from New Zealand, would be exempt. I don't begrudge him that since he woke up too, but he did get to stay tucked in to his berth. Oh well.

This meant that when we arrived in Istanbul around 7am, I was exhausted and grumpy (my normal morning state for most of the trip). I was a bit frustrated when I realized that Kent had the name of the hostel where his friend, Tom, was staying but no address other than the general neighborhood, "It's near the Blue Mosque." We got a free tourist map at the station and some directions to the hostel area and started walking. I tried hard to hide my annoyance but I didn't succeed. Luckily, Kent stayed calm and I was able to relax eventually. Getting coffee helped.

We decided to stop coffee on the way since there was no need to rush. The first two places we checked looked open but were closed. Confusing. Finally, we stopped at a very touristy place with some men drinking beer on the patio. At least we were sure it was open.

We took some outdoor seats as well and ordered coffee. That helped.

We continued walking in the general direction of the hostel neighborhood (and it turned out to be the area where almost all of the hostels, of every imaginable level of quality, were located). We passed a stand selling tourist-type goods: carpets, pottery, little glass beads to ward off the evil eye and a young man asked where we were from and where we were going. Kent stopped and talked to him. The man asked if we had a reservation and then Kent asked him where the hostel was…and the fellow gave us directions. I have to say that even though the selling in Istanbul was very aggressive people were also very helpful and friendly.

The directions were good and we found the place easily. Tom, however, was no where to be seen. We checked into a dorm, put our stuff down and hopped on the computer for a few minutes. Still feeling sick and tired, I lay down for about half an hour. Kent came to get me when he was ready to go exploring and we had lunch then took a walk all around the area. Kent took plenty of pics of the buildings and I took pictures of cats.

When we got back to the hostel we asked about Tom again and learned that he was probably still asleep. Somebody mentioned that Tom might be down the street at nearby bar--so we walked over, had some soup and a beer and waited. About an hour later, Tom showed up.

Now, Kent hadn't exactly explained to Tom who I was or that we'd met before. I met the two fellows in Warsaw--something like two months ago now. When Kent introduced us Tom gave me a look and said, "Don't I…didn't we meet?"

I said, "Yes." A few moments passed.

Tom said, "Warsaw?"

"Yes."

I knew he'd remember me when he saw me. I always thought it was odd that Kent hadn't been a little more forthcoming. Tom and I proceeded to give him plenty of crap about it over the next few days.

I could not match the pace of these two fellows when it came to the beers but Kent actually got a lot drunker than Tom even though he didn't drink more. He blamed me--and his lack of heavy drinking over the past many weeks. I didn't feel too bad for him. He felt pretty bad the next day, though. It was no surprise at all that these two spent their first evening together drinking…it was a relief to finally catch up with Tom. The only problem was that he was ready to get the hell out of Turkey but Kent and I were determined to do some sightseeing--and we did.

Grateful for: old friends.

Greece

Greece. Instead of spending more time in Bulgaria, we decided to approach Turkey from Northern Greece, Thessaloníki to be exact. Ideally, we would take a boat from here but it's way too expensive and not entirely clear if any of the ferries go where we want to go. Instead, we booked the night train to Istanbul tonight. Kent and I are wandering independently today. He's at the War Museum and I'm checking out the internet and trying to write a little. Since time is running short, it will be a very little.

The bus ride here was easy enough and a little amusing. We were told that the bus would leave at 9am but to meet at the office where we bought the tickets at 8am. We went out with some Aussies on Saturday night and even though we didn't stay up too late and I didn't drink very much, I was pretty damn grouchy on Sunday morning. My stupid cold was still playing it's tricks and I felt lousy. Still, we did get moving in a decent amount of time and made it to the little office by 8am. I was desperate to get a bite to eat since my stomach was a little unsettled. The ticket guy insisted that I didn't have time but I ignored him and got a roll anyway. On the bus, I noticed that it was only 8:20. I didn't understand what the big hurry was. Ten minutes later, the bus left. Thirty minutes early. I have no idea what was going on.

We made one stop on the road at a lonely little Bulgarian chain cafe. We and the rest of the passengers took seats at the outdoor tables and without saying a word we were served a sour yogurt drink (like a lassi) and, a few minutes later, some grilled cheese and ham sandwiches. Kent and I shrugged our shoulders and ate up. Was it free? Part of the bus ride? Nope. A few minutes later, a check was put on our table for 3.36 lev--that's about 1.15 euros--maybe 2 dollars. Nice. I really wanted coffee so I asked for it. The waitress looked at me like I was crazy, took the check away and brought us two espressos. When she brought the check back, the charge was exactly the same. Okay. We paid and spent the rest of our lev in the little shop--a beer for Kent and a chocolate bar for me.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. In Thessaloníki, we had a bit of a hunt for the hotel recommended by the guidebook we borrowed in Sofia. A friendly man on the street saw us studying a map and offered to help. He called the hotel for us but got no answer. He guided us to the street where he thought it was and we found it--then he bid us farewell. At the hotel, we were told two rooms were available and asked if we wanted to see the first one. I said yes and the clerk handed us the keys. Kent and I climbed a couple flights of stairs and found the room. When Kent opened the door, a smell came out that was so horrible that I couldn't step inside. He went to the window and looked out and I said, "I can't do it." We walked back downstairs and I told the clerk, "It has a terrible smell." Kent asked about the other room. The clerk shook his head and said, "It's even worse. You will find another hotel on the main street." We thanked him and left. Kent said, "That was pretty grim. It's good you didn't look out the window--that's why it was so bad. The alley was full of all crap. It was never going to air out." Yikes.

We stopped in at another place right around the corner. We were quoted the same price and shown to a small non-smelly room. We took it and spent a couple of pleasant nights there--well, except for the mosquitoes. Oh well. At least there were no bedbugs and it didn't stink of mildew and garbage.

Thessaloníki is big and very densely built--mostly high rise apartments from the 50's-60's-70's with balconies and air conditioners retrofitted. Everything is slightly crumbling due to the sea air and general neglect. Cafes abound and you can see people sipping their iced coffees (frappes) all day and night. It's quite warm here--one could wear shorts though hardly anyone does. The historical parts of the city include several Roman ruins, a lot of an old Roman wall and many, many Byzantine Churches--mostly recently restored but still quite impressive. I could easily spend many more days here, but it's time to move along.

Yesterday, we took a long walk, visited the Archaeological Museum and the Museum of Byzantine Culture. In the evening we went to a free brass band concert--they were quite good, though it was a tribute to someone and we couldn't figure out who or why.

Tonight, we take the train to Istanbul--and we have real sleeping berths reserved! I'm excited about that. It may not be a great night's sleep, but at least I won't be awoken by cigarette smugglers. Heh.

Grateful for: decent accommodations.

Time flies

Belgrade-Prishtina-Skopje-Sofia

How time flies when you spend no more than two nights in a place and get a raging head cold. I first blamed the smoky Belgrade hostel for my sore throat, but by the next day it was clear that I had an actual cold since I'd practically lost my voice and was full of headache. I am finally getting better but it tends to wax and wane. For example, I spent the early morning hours today (Friday) completely unable to breathe through my nose. Now, I can breathe, but I've lost my voice again. I can't win.

Monday
After Belgrade, we went to Kosovo. I couldn't be more surprised. Prishtina, the capital, is a place I've only heard of and know nothing about. My guidebook only covers Central Europe and buying another was impossible. Plus, I have a love hate relationship with any guidebook. It was not my idea to go to Prishtina, that falls fully on Kent. It's still not entirely clear to me why he wanted to go but I think it was mostly for the adventure. In retrospect, I feel the same way, though I am constitutionally disinclined to visit any place even vaguely resembling a war zone (Kent is my constitutional opposite in this respect).

The bus ride was pretty. The landscape, as much of what we've seen on this trip, reminds me strongly of the Appalachian foothills in the fall. The trees are similar, the mountains are small, with some stone showing, and a few winding rivers. After a mildly hair-raising six-hour bus ride, we were there. But where were we? It was only 6pm but black as pitch. Another American happened to be on our bus and we joined her in grabbing a taxi to one of the few hostels in town. We drove up a large hill and I could see enough to tell that Prishtina is all hills. Other than that, I had absolutely no idea where the bus station was in relation to our hostel (disconcerting).

We were greeted warmly by the proprietor--he was pleased to have two Americans staying with him but he wasn't so sure about the Kiwi (that's Kent). Nevertheless, he gave us a decent price (in Euros, the currency of Kosovo) and we settled in. Rather than going out, we sat and talked to a young Brit and the other American for a few hours. Kent and I shared a bit of the food we were carrying (bread, cheese, fruit) and the Brit tucked in heartily (the American was off to use the very, very slow internet).

Tuesday
After a decent sleep, we got to exploring the next day. The main problem was that I was fairly sick and didn't have much stamina. We walked slowly down the hill, taking note (and a few photos) of piles of rubble that used to be houses and remaining walls and ramshackle structures. Most of the area was built up and looked livable but signs of destruction remain. Our starting point was mostly residential but we passed a number of shops advertising themselves as "Mini Marts" (in English). The stock was about the same as convenience stores back home. We only saw one larger scale grocery store and it was small by US standards. I figure most shopping is done at open-air markets but we didn't come across one (not that I was looking).

As we got further down the hill, the area became more developed and we passed a number of cafes--all of which contained only men drinking coffee. Some cafes seemed to serve only drinks while other had grills. We picked a cafe to eat at that had a board on the sidewalk advertising all of its goods (hamburger, toast, sandwich, espresso) as costing fifty cents. We couldn't quite believe it so we stopped in for burgers and espresso (breakfast of champions). Everything was, in fact, fifty cents. The food was decent and the espresso was strong. The guy made our food on the spot so it was fresh. He asked what we wanted on the burgers and we stood up to point at the right condiments. He handed Kent his burger but he wouldn't let me carry mine back to the table. I had to sit down first and then the grill man placed my burger in front of me.

After breakfast/lunch, we wandered all the way to the bottom of the hill and found a very lively, diffuse city. The restaurants (grills/cafes) were more expensive in the denser retails areas but prices rarely got above 2-3 euros per menu item. We stopped in the Archeology museum, most notable for a large banner complaining that Serbia was illegally holding a few hundred of its artifacts--and for the large KLA memorial exhibit on the second floor--banners of the dead and a whole bunch of guns.

After a bit more wandering and a fruitless search for the bus station, I was ready for a rest. Unfortunately, a very large hill was between me and my bed. After a very slow ascent, I was able to lie down and revel in my illness for the rest of the afternoon. Kent went exploring on the other side of our hill (and still didn't find the bus station--though he came quite near it we found out later) and later that evening we went back that way to get some dinner. We stopped in at a couple of places that advertised pizza but each time we were told there was no pizza. At the second place, we pointed to a big pie (filo dough-like covering folded around ground beef) and were sold two huge slices for--fifty cents each. That was dinner plus some veggies picked up at the small supermarket.

Wedneday
The plan was to get to Sofia, Bulgaria but we decided to make a stop in Skopje, Macedonia on the way. (I should note that we are trying to meet up with Kent's travel buddy but he's something of a moving target. We expected to find him in Belgrade but he had already gone by the time we arrived. He's now in Istanbul and that's where we're heading, though at a leisurely pace.) We took an easy 2.5 hours bus ride from Pristina and got to Skopje as night was falling (it gets dark so early). Being completely clueless about where to stay or even the exchange rate, we took a cab driver up on his offer to get us to a hostel. While he did overcharge us for the ride, the Hostel ("Hostel Hostel"!) was probably the cheapest place to stay in town and full of friendly people--including four (!) other Kiwis (not the first we've met but the largest group encountered yet--three of them were traveling together). I got along well with them and when I found out the next day that the couple in group are coming to DC in January, I invited them to stay with me.

I didn't stay up too late, but, unfortunately, I had a lousy sleep. The room was cold and musty and my top bunk was singularly uncomfortable. I was determined we would only stay one night.

Thursday
We had a good look around on Thursday. We stuck to the old parts of town--the citadel and bazaar. The town is almost completely tourist-free (pretty much the case everywhere since Belgrade), which is refreshing. Communication is mostly pointing and nodding but people are patient and I am starting to feel less foolish.

The plan was to catch the 3pm bus to Sofia. We headed to the bus station with not enough time to spare and we missed the bus. We arrived slightly before three but the bus was full and we didn't have time to buy tickets anyway. The next bus wasn't until 11pm and since the ride is five hours (or so) we'd end up in Sofia in the middle of the night. We went to the train station, right next door, to see if the train was an option. The train left at 8pm, cost about the same and took much longer to arrive since its route is indirect and would take us back through Serbia. We opted for the train figuring it would be easier to rest and getting in around 7am was better than 4am. We hung around the station, ate a little, and changed the extra money we had into Euros.

Our plan was decent but in practice it didn't work out so well. The train was over an hour late arriving--which turned out not to matter since we made our connection without any trouble. In fact, the first part of the ride was fine since we had a compartment to ourselves and were able to spread out and get comfortable. At the transfer point (Nec), we waited nearly and hour before leaving. We got into a compartment with one other person but it was still fairly comfortable since we each could put our feet up. The problem was that a train "official" (not an official at all, as it turned out) rousted us an hour or so into the journey with a lot of words and pointing towards the ceiling. He grabbed my bag and moved it a few compartments down the car and we all had to move. In the new compartment, a woman was sleeping across three seats and she made no adjustment for her new companions. All this, plus my cold, lead to an uncomfortable, restless night.

In the morning, the "official" came and moved the lady to a different compartment and we spread out but it was really too late (early) to get sleep. Sometime before or after this we crossed the border to Bulgaria. (We had a tiny problem with the Serbian border control because we had two entry stamps and no exit stamps. Serbia doesn't recognize Kosovo and they wanted to make sure we knew it. The stamped our passports and returned them to us before making any fuss, though, so it wasn't an actual problem.)

After we had the compartment back to ourselves (and the other fellow who never spoke a word to us), I saw some folks with coffee and Kent went out to investigate. He didn't find coffee but he did see our "official" and some other passengers pulling carton upon carton of cigarettes from the ceilings of the compartments via the light fixtures. Nice. I'm not sure the sleepless night was worth observing a Bulgarian cigarette smuggling scheme but it sure isn't something you see every day.

Friday
The real problem with our train fiasco is that I essentially had two nights in a row with almost no sleep. Arriving in Sofia, I was grumpy, exhausted and sick. We did have a hostel in mind, luckily, and found our way there easily enough. However, we couldn't get into the room until 2pm so an attempt was made at walking around. I didn't make it far before I was almost asleep on my feet. Kent took me back to the hostel, which has a nice big common area, and I lay down on a sofa for a while. After we got in our room, I promptly went to sleep and Kent got out on his own.

Since our hostel provides a simple meal and a glass of beer with the price of the bed, we stuck around for a while in the evening before taking a walk. They had dishes of candy around for Halloween and the two on-duty staffers dressed up (witch and bear). A few jack-o-lanterns were even carved and placed about. Also, one of the guests from Japan did a dance performance for the crowd. He seemed to be an itinerant performer--working for drinks and board (perhaps). I was entertained but it was mostly odd.

After, we took a little walk and bought some supplemental dinner (pizza slices). We drank a couple of beers back at the hostel and made it a (relatively) early night. I slept very well.

Saturday
I woke up feeling better than I have in days. We took a good long walk and I saw most of the highlights of the town. We also went over to the bus/train station and got tickets to Thessaloniki for tomorrow morning. We'll go to Turkey via Greece...though I'm not sure when we'll get there. It's an adventure.

Grateful for: more adventure and a patient traveling companion.