Which planet are we on?

If you're anything like me, there are certain Bible passages where your eyes glaze over a bit, such as interminable genealogies or records of ancient civilizations you never learned about in school. I also tend to ignore geographical names I don't recognize, so a lot of the New Testament reads something like, "And next Paul traveled to blah blah blah, passing by blah blah, blah blah, and the city of blah blah, where he met up with So-And-So, and then went to Blah Blah island."

Well, it turns out that "Blah Blah," in the New Testament, particularly in Acts and the epistles, is usually located in Turkey, which back in the day was the Roman province of Asia Minor and where a lot of early Christian missionary activity was located and some of the earliest Christian communities began to grow.

One of these exotic and meaningless names is Cappadocia, a region in south central Asia Minor mentioned twice in the Bible, first at Pentecost when Luke states that some residents of Cappadocia were treated to what must have looked like a flash mob when the Holy Spirit descended on the disciples; and again by Peter, who addressed his first letter in part to the Christians in Cappadocia.

So when my students started insisting that I put Cappadocia on the top of my list of travel destinations, the name registered as one of the Biblical "blah blahs" that I'd never paid much attention to. What I didn't realize is that St. Peter wrote a letter to hobbits. Because, you see, the people of Cappadocia, both in antiquity and to a certain extent today, live in houses like this:

0r this
which make up neighborhoods like this

and then cities like this
set against a landscape which stretches out like this for 250 miles east-west and 120 miles north-south, much of it looking like this.


Cappadocia's landscape is characterized by the bizarre rock formations created by a series of volcanic eruptions and erosion which left the area punctuated with tall towers known as "fairy chimneys."

Local people figured out as early as the Bronze Age that the soft volcanic rock was perfect for carving out cave dwellings that provided shelter from not only harsh natural elements, but also marauding enemies who were put off by the mountains. The ubiquitous fairy chimneys are great for hiding behind when your nemesis is trying to spot you from a lookout in the mountains. But the locals also had the advantage of a natural castle at the highest point in Cappadocia, just waiting for someone to carve a palace out of it.

Perhaps it isn't the Shire, but it's hard to walk through Cappadocia without imagining some sort of fantasy creatures as its residents. And yet, somehow the only Hollywood film to make use of this place is the upcoming "Ghost Rider 2"with Nicolas Cage, which is certain to disappoint in every way except its filming location.

It's no surprise that Cappadocia is always on the "must-see" list for travelers coming to Turkey. It's got something for everyone, whether you're into geology, history, delicious food, or simply climbing around on rocks. Or, for people like me who love all of those things, you might call it paradise. At any rate, next time I encounter 1 Peter, I will certainly have a mental image of hobbit Christians huddled together in a cave reading the words of St. Peter.

Shopping in Istanbul

Istanbul in the 1600s was probably the closest a shopaholic could get to paradise on earth. It was the seat of a major empire that encompassed regions stretching from Morocco to Hungary and over to western Iran, and which laid claim to all the treasures of those regions, and also situated perfectly between Europe and Asia, right along the path of every major trade route in the world, where merchants from all areas of the known world could gather in a central location to trade. And the grand Mecca of world shopping centers was the Grand Bazaar, a labyrinthine covered bazaar built in 1461 by Sultan Mehmet "The Conqueror", which today still boasts 58 streets with over 4,000 shops selling anything you could ever want to buy and more. Gold, silver, meerschaum pipes, antique paintings, hookahs, Turkish carpets, hooded sweatshirts, colorful scarves, scented olive oil soaps, wind-up toys, marble chess sets--there is no end to the variety of merchandise in this market.

The ability to haggle over the price of your purchases isn't the only thing separating this building from the Mall of America. As with anything else in Turkey, shopping is an intensely social experience, for the vendors as well as groups of shoppers. There are plenty of merchants hawking tourist goods near the front entrance, who are clearly interested in selling as much overpriced junk to foreigners as they possibly can, and the incessant shouts of "Hello friend! Yes please! Here! Bonjour! Where are you come from?" drive me absolutely crazy.

But if you can survive the initial wave of harassment, it's more than possible to sneak into some of the back corners, where you can meet shop owners whose lifestyle flies in the face of my American Protestant work ethic in a way that makes me wonder if efficiency and productivity are really worth the hype. To these people, business is not simply about liras and moving inventory off the shelf, but about hospitality and the opportunity they have to meet people from all over the world who come to this place.

In the bazaar, a visitor's eyes might pass over tiny shops on the corner where men load up trays with small glasses of tea to deliver to every shop in the market. But these tea distribution teams represent the heart and soul of the bazaar, the hot beverage without which Turkey would probably implode. An offer of tea is a gesture of friendship that signifies your worth to a vendor is more than the dollars you might give them.

The first time I visited Istanbul in September, I visited the Grand Bazaar more as a way to kill time while waiting for a friend than to accomplish any shopping. This is a far better place to hang out than a mall, because I think at least half of the three hours I spent within the vaulted walls of the bazaar was spent sitting in shops drinking tea and chatting with merchants who were more than happy to help a solitary traveler pass the time.

This visit proved to be similar in that I think we spent more time sitting and chatting than browsing through merchandise. My friend and I initially wandered into a carpet shop because he was hoping to pick up a handwoven kilim, but I don't think he could ever have anticipated that we would spend close to an hour and a half in this little store. The owner, while appreciating Chris's interest in his carpets, acted as if closing a sale was the last thing on his mind. He immediately sat us down in his shop, brought us tea, and talked our ears off about a wide variety of topics. Occasionally other customers would wander into the shop and he'd excuse himself to take care of them, or more often to call his assistant to take care of them. But it was clear that he was enjoying our company, and that his daily work life was as much about these moments as it was about the profits.

The same held true later in the afternoon when serendipity led us into a small, dimly lit art studio where every square inch of wall was covered by paintings and Arabic calligraphy. The artist himself sat in the back, hunched over a piece he was working on, but he did not seem in the least put out by an interruption, even when it was clear that we weren't looking to buy anything. He invited us to sit and join him for a few cups of tea as well, and he and Chris chatted about art and business while I helped the artist's assistant with his English homework. Later another friend of theirs wandered into the shop for no particular reason other than to hang out a bit, which also bothered nobody. The whole atmosphere was so relaxed and pleasant, with these men knowing that they earn their livings and therefore feeling free to enjoy their day instead of killing themselves over a few extra dollars. Our new friend even pulled out some scrap paper and wrote our names in calligraphy as a gift.

This is certainly not a typical Turkish shopping experience, as most of my forays into retail resemble American shopping so much that it's not worth blogging about. But I can get the sense that back in the day when markets were dominated by these small, family-owned enterprises, time for gossip and tea with friends was half the point of entering a shop. And the Turkish sense of hospitality shines strong here in the bazaar when merchants are given the opportunity to run their businesses in a way that allows them the flexibility to turn prospective customers into prospective friends.

Treasures of Constantinople- The Hagia Sophia

When I tell people that I'm visiting Istanbul, nine out of ten Americans will respond with a brief pause and then some sort of reference to the city's former appellation bestowed upon it by the Emperor Constantine, and the fact that this name has since been changed. I will never cease to be amazed that at some point in the 20th century, a man named Jimmy Kennedy decided that given a catchy melody, the Ottomans' 1453 takeover and subsequent renaming of the Byzantine capital would make a great pop song, and that the song did indeed become popular enough that, fifty years after its composition, most Americans instinctively reference the song when they hear the name of the largest city in Turkey.

However, there is much, much more to this great city than They Might Be Giants could ever hope to capture in two minutes and thirty five seconds. Istanbul is truly an amazing city, occupying a unique place in both geography and history, sitting in a spot that, apologies to China, could be considered the center of the world. Istanbul straddles the Bosphorus Strait, which separates Europe from Asia, and is the only city in the world to sit on two continents. It is also the only city to have been the capital of two major empires, the Byzantine and Ottoman Empires. Between those two, it was a world seat of power for well over a millennium. Today it is one of the largest cities in Europe, a sprawling metropolis of over 18 million people that takes pride in its history and traditions, but still has an eye on the future and is definitely a hip place for artists and party animals.

The Bosphorus Strait- Asia on the left, Europe on the right, and the Sea of Marmara ahead

The old travel writer's cliche holds very true in Istanbul: you could spend a lifetime exploring this vibrant city and never be disappointed by the cultural wealth, both historical and modern, that you would upturn in the process. But in my recent journey to Istanbul, hosting a good friend from college who came to explore Turkey with me, we stuck to the major sights.

Probably any western tourist who ends up in Istanbul immediately heads to the same iconic location on the historic peninsula of Istanbul: the Hagia Sophia. And for good reason; it is not only one of the most beautiful buildings I've ever seen, but it's also one of the most historically significant.

The Hagia Sofia, or Ayasofya, was constructed by the Roman Emperor Justinian in 532 AD. The entire structure was built in five years, and was the largest church in the world for a thousand years until the Ottomans conquered Constantinople in 1453 and converted it into a mosque, at which point it became one of the largest mosques in the world. After World War I, when the Turkish Republic was established, there was some controversy over which faith held a better claim to the building, and in a move inspired by Solomon, Mustafa Kemal Ataturk determined that the Hagia Sophia would be better off as a museum for people of all religions to enjoy equally.

The jumbled history of the cathedral leads to such odd juxtapositions as this- the Arabic calligraphy on the bottom says "God" on the right, and "Muhammad" on the left, with Jesus and Mary hovering over them in the center

This dome was one of the largest in the world at the time, and utilized a lot of new architectural techniques that went on to influence later works. You can see the top is ringed with Arabic calligraphy done by the Ottomans, although the seraph paintings are clearly from the Byzantine era.

The Hagia Sophia is the pinnacle of Byzantine architecture, but because of its prominence, when the Ottoman Sultan decided to build his own mosque opposite the Hagia Sophia, his architect designed the new house of worship in a similar architectural style, which came to influence all mosque construction throughout Turkey.

Walking through the Hagia Sophia today, you encounter not only literal mosaics, some of the greatest in all of Byzantine history, but a figurative mosaic of history and culture. The Hagia Sophia was never a static work, but one controlled by megalomaniac emperors who wanted to leave their mark on both history and the walls of the Hagia Sophia and therefore commissioned new artwork, sculpture, or, in the case of the Ottomans, new additions to the building such as minarets, a library, and beautifully calligraphed Arabic murals. Some parts of the building are originals from the 6th century; many mosaics and paintings were added on in the 9th or 11th centuries; and the "new" parts were tacked on in the 16th century.

The Sultan had this constructed so that he could pray in a more elevated location than the common man

The Hagia Sophia is also unique in Turkey because the Christian art was preserved. The Ottomans had a tradition of converting all churches in conquered lands into mosques, which means that the Byzantine churches in many cities were preserved. However, Islam harbors a fear that we sinful humans will start to worship the images of God or saints rather than God himself, and prohibits all images and icons in spaces of worship. Because of this, there isn't a lot of great Byzantine church art still remaining; the paintings which remain often have the faces scratched out. However, for some reason the Ottomans decided to simply cover up the magnificent mosaics in the Hagia Sophia rather than dismantle them, which means that in the 20th century, when a team of Harvard archaeologists came to Turkey, they were able to uncover and restore some incredibly beautiful 9th-11th century mosaics depicting Jesus, Mary, and the Byzantine emperors.

The Hagia Sophia is significant in church history for hosting the 2nd ecumenical council in 387 AD, where the early church fathers met to clarify the Nicene Creed (which had been assembled at the council of Nicea, another city in Turkey) and determine the nature of the Holy Spirit's relationship to the other two persons of the Trinity.

It’s a bit mind-boggling to enter a cathedral like this and let the history drench you with its tales of emperors, conquest, ecumenical councils, and the 1,500 years of royalty and peasantry alike who have prayed within its walls. If you ever get a chance, this is a destination well worth the visit, because pictures cannot do it justice.

Republic Day

This morning we got a wake-up call from an air force jet buzzing my apartment building, a friendly airborne advertisement for the military air show that will take place on Saturday. October 29 is Republic Day, Turkey's national holiday celebrating the founding of the Turkish Republic in 1929.

Usually this is a joyful day when the Turkish people burst forth in a collective display of patriotism and gratitude to Ataturk, the man who single-handedly brought Turkey out of the age of empire and caliphate and guided it into the 20th century as an independent, Westward-facing secular democracy.

But this year the commemoration will be a little more somber, and the city's transformation into a panorama of red and white flags occurred a couple of weeks early, reflecting the fact that the nation is mourning in the wake of two tragedies last week.


The first happened last Wednesday, the latest chapter of a conflict that dates back to 1984 and which could be called a civil war of sorts. Twenty-four Turkish soldiers were killed in southeast Turkey in a strike by the PKK, or Kurdistan Workers' Party, a Kurdish separatist group based in northern Iraq. People here were devastated by the news, and the flags immediately went up to commemorate the "martyrs," a word Turks use to describe any soldier who dies in defense of his homeland, not only those who die for a religious cause. Thousands gathered at Ataturk's mausoleum here in Ankara to mourn. Others took to the streets, carrying flags and shouting chants of indignant fury calling for the government to avenge its citizens. Last Friday while walking to the park I encountered no less than five separate protest marches, many of them schoolkids.


As a citizen of a country where loss of military personnel is a tragically routine occurrence, and where groups of people have been protesting our current military actions since they started, I was sympathetic to their emotional response. However, I was a bit surprised by the desperation in people's voices when they spoke of the martyrs, and the extent to which the general population rose up in anger. It would be as if the entire United States jumped up after a bomb in Baghdad and went to Washington to shout, "This is enough! We have to end this now!"

To contextualize a bit, the PKK has been wreaking havoc in Turkey for decades, and is considered a terrorist organization by the United States, the EU, and a number of other countries. Southeast Turkey is practically a war zone. More than 30,000 people have lost their lives since 1984, both Turkish soldiers and Kurdish rebels, as well as several thousand civilians, according to Wikipedia. All Turkish men are required to serve in the military, and therefore run the risk of being sent willy-nilly to areas where they are likely to face combat. This last attack seems to have been the last straw for a number of people who are simply tired of a conflict that has gone on far too long.

But if that wasn't enough grief for the country, the eastern city of Van, near the Iranian border, was struck by a 7.2 earthquake on Sunday, killing at least 500 so far and leaving thousands of others homeless. I'm sure you've seen news reports, as it seems to be a major story around the globe, but in case you're wondering how this has affected me, let me try to put this in perspective.


Turkey is a big country, much bigger than I tend to think it is, and the distance from Ankara to Van is over 850 miles, meaning that I'm safely far removed from both earthquake and terrorists. I first learned of the earthquake via a Facebook post from a family friend wanting to know if I was all right, so no, we didn't feel it here and everything is okay. But in Van, the situation is bad, as rescue workers are now at a point where there isn't much hope of finding more survivors, and the government has discovered they don't have enough tents to shelter all those whose homes were destroyed.

The government here is finally starting to accept some foreign aid, and I know the U.S. has pledged to send money for relief efforts. The Red Crescent, Turkey's equivalent of the Red Cross, is also working diligently to send donations of money and winter clothes to those who need it. But, as with any disaster area, the cleanup and recovery process will not happen overnight and help will be needed for a long time to come.

If you feel moved to help relief efforts in Van, you can donate to the International Red Cross Foundation here, or to Catholic Relief Services here. These groups are sending relief workers and also providing supplies to families who have been left homeless. As far as I know there are no U.S.-based organizations collecting donations of supplies, but it's possible that local groups are starting to do so.

In the meantime, please remember Turkey in your prayers this weekend. Republic Day will be marred by a lot of pain tomorrow, and as much as people need blankets, they also have spiritual needs as they turn to God for comfort in their distress. So please pray for the hope and comfort of God's grace to be evident in the midst of disaster. Also thank God for the rescue workers and for the lives that have been saved through their hands in the days following the earthquakes, and pray for their continued strength as they search for others and begin rebuilding.

And thanks to all of you who have been so concerned about my safety recently- it's always good to know that people are thinking about me and praying for me while I'm over here as these things happen.

Istanbul- safer than you think

It has been a while since my last update, and that is because I spent much of the month of September zooming across continents, from Ankara to Missouri to Florida and back again. But the first part of the journey was one long overdue- after living in Turkey for nearly a year, I finally visited Istanbul for the first time.

Former capital of the Byzantine and Ottoman Empires- lots to see here, and it's still a bustling, vibrant city today.

How could it possibly have taken me so long to take such a glaringly obvious trip? Well, Istanbul is a good seven hour bus ride from Ankara and is so full of history and incredible sites that you need at least two days to explore. My schedule is such that I never have two consecutive days off, and occasionally no days off at all, which makes getting out of Ankara more complicated than it seems. But as my flight to the USA departed from Istanbul, and I was already taking ten days off of work, I thought, "What's another two days?" and spent a weekend in Istanbul before leaving.

Now the thought of me traveling alone in Istanbul sends my parents into paroxysms, and is something I, unable to completely rid myself of stereotypes, would never even have considered until just a few months ago. But I have learned a few things in my time here, one of which being that Turkey is generally a pretty safe place and that while Istanbul, as in any big city, has its share of pickpockets and psychopaths, it's not a den of America-haters waiting to pounce on any light-skinned Christian walking the streets.

It is, however, very densely packed, so hang on to your purse.

And my experience only served to further my positive impressions. Far more impressive than the architectural splendors of Istanbul's historical peninsula was the warmth its inhabitants displayed in welcoming me during my two day visit to their city.

The generosity began even before I arrived. Back in August I received a casual offer of a free place to stay in Istanbul from a friend-of-a-friend that I met at a dinner party. In the USA I would feel awkward calling such a person up a month later, but this being Turkey, the land of hospitality, my new friend (as I must now call her) was thrilled when I called to take her up on her offer.

And the people of Istanbul went far out of their way to make my life easier from the moment I stepped off the bus. In my first half hour in Istanbul, I was approached by a man who saw me struggling with the subway ticket machine and offered to help, a woman who pointed out to me that the wheelchair exit would be easier than lifting my 50-pound suitcase over the turnstile, and a man who accosted me at the top of a staircase and took my suitcase down the stairs despite my protests.

I should have known that an offer of a place to sleep would be more than a simple hello in the morning and good night in the evening. My host insisted on including me in her weekend plans, which meant two birthday parties, brunch on a pier overlooking the sea, an afternoon walking tour of the coast, and introducing me to most of her friends. Her marvelous idea was to give me a taste of Istanbul life beyond what most tourists see. So while I missed a few of the main touristic sites this go-around, I was most certainly introduced to the heart of the city and the people who live there.

Perfect spot for a relaxing walk with friends, no?

On Saturday my friend had to work, which was no problem for me as serendipitous city-crawling is one of my favorite pastimes, in cities and countries where I feel safe doing so. Istanbul is the perfect city for wandering with no agenda, no map, and no hurry. Turkish people are very sociable, and while window-shopping in the historical peninsula I discovered that it was not possible to simply browse and walk out without a chat and a cup of tea with the shop owner. I'm not naive- there are plenty of shrewd merchants looking to empty the pockets of foreign tourists who don't know better, but as in any tourist area, a foreigner able to hold her own in Turkish can avert some of the deviousness. Turks are hospitable by nature, and proud of their country, so they're extra welcoming to a guest who seems interested in learning about Turkey. By the end of the morning my notebook was full of scribbled travel advice from people I met along the way who recommended their favorite locations and were kind enough to give me directions.

Haggling is a must at the Grand Bazaar, although I discovered that prices tend to drop and shopkeepers become more chatty if you can speak a bit of Turkish.

Even on my last night in Istanbul, when a couple of my new acquaintances heard that I was planning to take the midnight shuttle bus to the airport and spend the night there, there was a cry of outrage at the thought of a guest stuck alone at the airport for six hours. They insisted on driving me to the airport at 3 am, and when we arrived they sat and kept me company for about an hour before finally deciding that it was time for me to go and check in for my flight. And so I departed in good company, a bit overwhelmed with gratitude, not only for their willingness to help me out, but also for their enthusiasm in doing so.

So yes, I will write more about the fantastic sights that Istanbul has to offer, but even with all the splendors of a city considered one of the most beautiful in the world, this was the main impression I took with me.

Missouri, not New York

Being from a large, powerful country with vast entertainment exports, I often bump into the phenomenon that most people in the world watch Hollywood films and as such, think themselves experts on the United States. Everyone in the world has an opinion on George Bush, 80% of the people in the world have some sort of 9/11 conspiracy theory involving brainwashed stupid Americans that they desperately need to share with me, and a good number of people really do buy into the stereotype that Americans know nothing about the world outside their backyards, thanks to YouTube videos like the one above.

But this air of superiority breaks down when U.S. geography comes up, because the reality is that most Turks' knowledge of the U.S. is limited to Los Angeles, New York, Boston, Dallas, Miami, and Chicago (and not only Turks, this applies to a significant chunk of the global population, even the most educated). They're not sure whether California is a city or a state, most are surprised to hear that Alaska is part of the USA, and they're blown away by the fact that we have fifty states spanning 3,000 miles of continent.

This odd gap between perceived knowledge and actual knowledge results in some hilarious conversations when well-intentioned people want to know where in the U.S. I'm from. Inexplicably, everyone frames the question in the same bizarre way: "Which city are you from? For example, California, New York..." forcing me into a brief explanation of the difference between a city and a state and which category Texas and Miami fall into. Turkey is divided into regions as well, and people often state their geographical roots by region, meaning that when they say the name of a familiar city, they could very well mean a village 100 miles outside the city. But the American fashion of listing both city and state, or often just state if it's a small town, is completely incomprehensible to them.

For me, the most entertaining part of being from Missouri is the fact that nobody outside the USA has ever heard of Missouri. The other entertaining point is that our country has multiple states beginning with the letter "M," which all sound the same to untrained ears and causes great chaos when trying to help people locate Missouri on their mental maps of the USA. The question "Where are you from?" never has a simple answer because people want to have heard of my hometown, but the fact is they generally haven't. To date, I've met only two people here who knew anything about Missouri. One was a Turkish guy who spent a summer working in Joplin, driving an ice cream truck through a summer work and travel program. The other was a French guy who spouted an almost encyclopedic knowledge of small Missouri towns with French names, but I'm fairly certain this was the result of a Google search he performed to hide the fact that he fibbed when he initially told me he'd heard of Missouri. Most people simply respond to my answer with a flat, "Ohhh," in the tone that people adopt when they have no idea what you're talking about but don't want to admit it.

But here are the top five best reactions I've had so far in trying to explain U.S. geography to people who aren't afraid to proudly display their ignorance, an attitude which I commend because they are the people who end up learning something from the conversation.

5. "You're from MISERY?" (cliche, but it shows this person's grasp of the English language, so props.)

4. "Where are you from in the USA?"
"Missouri."
"No, I mean like which city, for example, New York, California..."
"Missouri. It's a state."
"New York?"
"No, Missouri. There is a state called Missouri."
"A state?"
"Yes."
"Which city? New York?"
"No."

(The really sad part is that this conversation has occurred more than once.)

3. "Missouri! That's in the south, right?"
"Nope, that's Mississippi."
"But Boston is there, right?"
"Nope, that's Massachusetts."
"Near the lakes?"
"That's Michigan."
"Near Canada?"
"That's Minnesota."
"In that case I have absolutely no idea where Missouri is."
"You get half credit for knowing Michigan."
"Are all these places real?"

2. "I'm from Missouri. It's a state in the center of the United States, near the Mississippi River."
"Oh, ok. I know the Mississippi River. Which city?"
"It's a small city called Columbia."
"Columbia! I know Columbia!"
"You do?"
"Yes, of course! It's in South America! You're from South America? Do you speak Spanish?"
"No..."

1. "I know Missouri! It's very famous."
"Really? Are you sure?"
"Yeah, there was a movie about it."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! People talk funny there, right? Like 'O ya sure, dontcha know.' "
"Nope, that's Minnesota."

(Unfortunately there is no way to capture in writing what it sounds like when a Turkish person tries to imitate a Minnesota accent. Suffice it to say I started choking on my tea and couldn't breathe for about a minute.)

The corn man

The corn man cometh.



Each afternoon, the voice comes. It first becomes audible from a few blocks away, and gradually the volume increases as its owner winds his way through the streets to his eventual destination of our short and winding road. The call has clearly been honed and perfected through years of practice: without fail, it rings out with precisely the same cadence and pitch every time.

I can hear him from my bedroom with the window shut. I can hear him above Lynyrd Skynyrd blasting from my flatmate's computer. I can hear him every day, rain or shine, regardless of temperature. The corn man: just what you think it is. He's a street vendor, in the same vein as the simitcis that I've blogged about before, who wanders the street selling corn.

Sometimes I watch him from the window as he meanders up our street. He occasionally rests from his chanted advertisement to look up at the buildings, as if expecting a housewife to call out to him and then come running down to collect her corn. But no one ever comes. In over two months of living in this flat and watching this man push his corn cart up the hill past my house, I have never seen him attract a single customer. Who knows how long he wanders every afternoon, or how much corn he sells on an average day. Is it enough to make a profit and justify his long hours of corn peddling? Probably not. Turkish people may have relied on these street vendors for fresh produce fifty years ago, or perhaps even twenty, but now there are about five grocery stores within two blocks of my house, all with reasonably priced vegetables. The corn man seems obsolete, a village relic that doesn't quite fit in with the sports cars and skyscrapers of Ankara.

But this man is a great example of patience and perseverance, because he never fails to come with his corn. Whether or not he sells any is a mystery to me, but he is a faithful visitor to our street every single day, and his voice is a touch that makes this cold, impersonal big city feel a little smaller.

Kos

Greece and Turkey have a long, intertwining history dating back to Alexander the Great's invasion of Asia Minor in 334 BC. Following that time, Greeks colonized Asia Minor and many of the famous Greek cities and heroes were from Anatolia, the peninsula which is now Turkey. Anatolia was primarily Greek-speaking until the Ottomans conquered Constantinople and spread across Turkey in the 15th century.

But even during the days of the Ottomans, and after Greece declared independence from the Ottoman Empire in 1821, taking most of the Aegean Islands with it, there was a significant population of Christian Greeks living in Turkey. However this ended when, following a series of nasty wars in the early 20th century, Turkey and Greece signed a treaty to exchange populations. At this time, all Muslims were forcibly removed from their homes in Greece, and all the Christians were likewise removed from Anatolia and resettled in their respective "homelands."

Since the 1970s the two countries have generally gotten along, and most Turks I know seem to have a positive view of Greece, with the exception of a few disputes regarding the origins of baklava or other cultural items that both countries like to claim.

But I find this interesting because although I knew that Greece had a lot of islands, I didn't realize that they owned practically every island between Greece and Turkey, including the ones that are literally right next to Turkey. So like an idiot, I wandered into Bodrum and saw advertisements for ferry boats to the Greek islands of Kos, Rhodes, Lesbos, and Kalymnos, and was kind of surprised to learn that these were day trips. But I couldn't resist the idea of a $17 round-trip ferry boat ride to a Greek island, so I signed myself up for a day trip to Kos.

Every single other tourist in Bodrum appeared to have the same idea as I did. The customs and passport authorities, on the other hand, seemed to be greatly surprised at the increase in tourist traffic during a major national holiday in late August, and had not made any sort of adjustments to their normal administration of passport and visa control. So our ferry, scheduled to leave at 9:30, pulled out of the harbour at a little after 10:00. Thankfully, the one hour boat ride was worth the wait.

And yes, the Apostle Paul stopped off here at least twice, once at the end of his final missionary journey, on his way back to Jerusalem for his final trial. He was probably not fully able to enjoy the scenery, knowing that he was headed for prison.

That's Kos, up ahead.

Cruising on the top deck of a ferry on a sunny day, wind blowing in your face and watching the coastline glide by-- pretty much like heaven.


The sun and scenery hypnotized me to the point that it never occurred to me that I'd be one of the last people off the boat when we arrived. And oh, was there a price to pay. Greece had even less forethought than Turkey as regards the holiday traffic, and those of us unfortunate enough to be in the back of the line were treated to a full two hours of standing in line in the sun. The Europeans standing behind me were less than thrilled about this: "15 billion Euros in aid, and we have to stand in line for two hours? I want my money back!" By the time I actually got through passport control, I had only three hours to wander the island before having to report back to the ship. Lesson learned! Don't listen to the sirens enticing you to relax in the sun. Get off the boat!

Kos harbor, lined with lots of bicycles and scooters available for rent.


You can see the mixture of history here in the middle of the town square. Side by side there is a large Orthodox church, and a mosque.



Kos was the home of Hippocrates, the father of medicine, and there's a large tree in the center of town that he supposedly planted. The other thing I discovered walking around town was the ruins of the agora, which according to the informational plaques was one of the largest in the ancient world.

However, it's not much to look at now. That archway behind me is really the only thing still standing. Everything else has been knocked down by entropy and earthquakes.

This pile of stones behind me was once a sanctuary to Aphrodite. I'm sure Paul was less than thrilled by that one. Maybe he's the one who knocked it over?



The best part of this to me was that the ruins were just lying about, fully accessible to anyone who wanted to climb on them or, like me, have a pita picnic upon some fallen columns. I guess Greece has so many ruins, a number of which are in much better condition than these, that they don't really care if tourists run amok on their ancient agoras. Besides, the majority of tourists are from Turkey or Europe, which are countries also full of ancient sites. It's only us New World folks who get so worked up over a pile of broken-down stones.

Three hours was just enough time to explore the city a bit, do a bit of shopping, grab a cold drink in a feeble attempt to free my body from its memories of too much sunlight. After that it was another magnificent boat ride back to Bodrum, and then immediately onto a bus back to reality in Ankara, far from the sea.

It was a short, sweet visit which only left me with a desire to go back and explore more of these islands. Now that I know how close some of them are, I might just have to do that.

Castle by the Sea- Bodrum

Teaching does bring its benefits, but working at a language school in Turkey, summer vacation is not one of them. In fact, with kids out for the summer and parents reluctant to let them waste their time at home playing video games, intensive English classes are a popular method of educational childcare, and so every day our school becomes crowded with all ages, starting as young as five. The morning groups come for four hours, five days a week, and the afternoon groups for three hours. All come armed with pocket money for sugary soft drinks and ice cream so during the hourly tea breaks, you're likely to get bowled over by elementary kids chasing each other on a sugar high through the hallways.

While I was lucky enough to escape the madness of kids' classes, I made up for it by working seven days a week for the past three and a half months. I taught two pre-intermediate intensive classes this summer, which were made up mostly of university students using their summer holidays as a chance to get ahead in English. With these groups meeting every morning, I was hoping to get rid of my weekend schedule, but I have been teaching the same group Saturday-Sunday mornings ever since I came to Turkey and we're pretty close by now, so I hated to give them up. So thanks to my attachment to the weekend group, I had a pretty miserable work marathon from mid-May until this past week. My life started to feel a little like Groundhog Day, waking up every single day at the same time, going through the same routine with very few things to break up the monotony.

For this reason, the week-long holiday celebrating the end of Ramadan was as big a relief to me as it was to the millions of people who had been fasting all month. A few weeks ago I had made up my mind that what I needed the most was to sit on the beach and zone out. And so this week I went down to Bodrum, a peninsula on the southwest coast of Turkey, where the Aegean and Mediterranean seas meet. I was so ready for a break that I didn't even care that this is a huge hotspot for both national and European tourists and that the whole place was crowded.

The thing that really sold me was hearing that Bodrum was home to the ancient Greek historian Herodotus, who said that it was the most beautiful place in the world. If it's good enough for Herodotus, it's good enough for me!

Bodrum is an 11-hour bus trip from Ankara, but the great thing about the buses here is you can hop on an overnight bus at 9:30 and arrive bright and early in the morning to find this:

Herodotus may have had a limited scope of "the world," but I'm almost inclined to agree with him. This is the harbor at Bodrum. Forgive the picture quality- I only had my camera phone.

Bodrum, as I mentioned, is a hotspot for Europeans, which means that pretty much everyone in Bodrum speaks excellent English and that prices tend to be on the high side. But because most of the foreign tourists speak no Turkish whatsoever, the locals were shocked and super impressed by my less-than-fluent but certainly functional Turkish, enough so that prices dropped a bit whenever I used it. Which was good because the beaches of Bodrum have an interesting feature:

You can't quite see it from the picture, but the entire coast is lined with beach chairs and umbrellas belonging to hotels and restaurants. There isn't an open spot to be had. Technically the chairs are free to use, but most people with any sort of ethical compunctions would feel kind of guilty not at least buying a drink in exchange for the privilege of using the beach. This gets expensive eventually, but wasn't entirely bad; I felt pretty spoiled at one point when I abandoned the chairs to sit with my feet in the Mediterranean, reading a book, as a nice waiter made sure my stuff didn't get wet and then fetched me an ice cold beer.

But this beach is even better because it's also got an historical element to it; namely, this was the ancient Greek city of Halikarnassos, home to the Tomb of Mausolus, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. There's a Roman amphitheater plastered visibly on a hillside next to the highway, and the landmark of the harbor is the Castle of St. Peter, built by the Knights of Rhodes in the 15th century AD.

And it's hard to pass up a Crusader castle by the sea, especially when I learned that this castle is also home to the Museum of Underwater Archaeology. It was like all my nerdy childhood classical education and obsession with history and archaeology has finally been given a context.




Ancient sites are magical to me because they require so much from your imagination, to have knowledge of different time periods to recreate what these places must have been like hundreds or thousands of years ago. What did Herodotus see when he looked out his window? What would this have looked like when Alexander the Great invaded? What did the Apostle Paul think when he sailed by here? (and he did; I checked in the book of Acts, and in 21:1 he sailed to the island of Kos, which I visited on Wednesday and which is visible from Bodrum) My senses tingled walking through these stones and imagining who else had been there.

View from the castle, which was constructed by the Knights Hospitaller in the 1400s as a safeguard against the approaching Selcuk Turks, who were taking over Anatolia as the Byzantine Empire crumbled. Christians from all over Asia Minor came to this castle to take refuge.

As you can see from the minaret, the castle did eventually fall to the Ottoman Turks, in 1522, and according to Ottoman tradition, the chapel was converted into a mosque. The minaret was later destroyed by French battleships during World War I. Of course now, the chapel/mosque now houses a shipwreck exhibit, so the archaeologists might be the most blasphemous ones in this story of degrading sacred spaces.

The Museum of Underwater Archaeology is spread out through various rooms in the castle, so as you explore the fortress you're also treated to exhibits of Greek shipwrecks and pieces of glass recovered from the bottom of the Mediterranean. The museum boasts one of the largest collection of amphorae in the world, which is pretty exciting if you're me.

No crowds could spoil my mood. All in all it was a time of great refreshment, physically, mentally, and spiritually. There's nothing like the sea to remind you of God's power and encourage you to just sit still and bask in the splendor of His creation. Plus being in a place with millennia of Christian history also gives me a lot of encouragement as I think about all the people who've been here before me, worshiping and proclaiming the Gospel despite all sorts of opposition and persecution. Reading the Bible in this kind of a context where others have been reading the same words in so many different languages in so many different circumstances gives me a much greater picture of Christianity as a family that transcends time and space, and fills me with joy at the anticipation of someday meeting all these people in Heaven. It also serves as a booster for coming back to Ankara, a place where there isn't really a Christian community and where I don't have the opportunity to go to church on a regular basis.


I'm one of the fortunate ones- while I feel a bit disconnected from the body of Christ, it's nothing compared to those out there who are not only spiritually and physically disconnected from others who share their faith, but who also face persecution for their beliefs. So while it may sound strange in a blog post about a beach holiday, I would like to end with a prayer request for all those out there who have little spiritual support and who don't enjoy the blessing of a large community of faith. Please lift them up in prayer as brothers and sisters in Christ, that they would be encouraged and know that even if they feel alone, they are not.


More to come later on my little day excursion to Greece!