Turkish Retrospective
I'm so sad that this needs to be done this way, but because of a severe lack of technical resources in Spain and Turkey and a general lack of time, I have to document the Turkish and Swiss leg of my trip as a retrospective and not real time. I pretty much consider that part of the trip my vacation episode, since the events after have been a little less climactic and sometimes downright unpleasant.
Day 1
Zurich, Switzerland
For some strange reason, all of the cheap flights to Turkey from Madrid had an overnight stay in Zurich, so I was forced to buy an expensive hotel there for one night each way. I have a theory that they just do that to boost tourism, and I guess it worked with me. I paid something like $130 for each night at the only gay hotel in Zurich. The benefit of this was that it came with a bar and a disco attached and was right in the center of the historic district with everything at your disposal. Unfortunately, I arrived too late for any of the regular restaurants, but was still able to find a gyro at a middle eastern place. A strange foreshadowing of my meals to come for the next few weeks.
After recharging with a little sustenance, I showered and headed down to the bar to check it out. Unfortunately, the Swiss don't get moving until pretty late, and I was tired, so after having a soda and wandering around the bar a few times and chatting with a Swiss guy who was back on holiday from London, I decided to call it a night. Everything in Zurich seemed so clean and modern and international. I was really struck by how cosmopolitan it seemed. The residents also seemed to all be tall and slim and beautiful. I wished that I had more time there to really check it out, but alas, I needed sleep.
The next morning, I awoke to a cold rainy day, but still wanted to do a little sightseeing, since it was the only time I'd see the city in the daylight. I got a couple of tips from the very sweet woman at my hostel on where to eat and what I could see nearby. The coffee shop she recommended had the most amazing breakfast special, with a fresh-baked croissant, bread, coffee with milk, muesli and juice for $6. I don't think I've ever had muesli before, but whatever they gave me at that cafe was a slice of heaven. I ended up eating way too much, but left very happy :)
View of Rainy Zurich on My Rainy Date of Departure
I trekked across the bridge to the Fraumunster Cathedral that the hotel clerk had recommended. Very basic on the outside, but she said that the windows were really famous. I later found out that some of them were designed by Marc Chagall in the 1970's. They were really stunning, unfortunately, some of my pictures are a little blurry.
Fraumunster Church in Zurich
Stained Glass Windows of Fraumunster by Marc Chagall
More Chagall Windows
Istanbul
I left Switzerland around noon feeling fairly well rested and ready for the next leg of the journey. Coming into Istanbul's airport was fairly easy, aside from the long line at customs. Getting to my hostel was another story. I decided to save a little cash and take the metro to a tram to get to the Sultanahmet Square area. I was traveling fairly heavy and dragging my two backpacks and my suitcase onto the metro and then off the metro and onto the tram was a challenge. My guide book had numerous warnings about different scams that occur in Turkey. This, coupled with the normal dose of American paranoia about the Arab world made me suspicious of everyone, verging on paranoia. A guy around my age tried to talk to me in a friendly way on the metro, and I was very short with him and tried not to reveal to much. I said I was from Canada and that I had been to Turkey once before (both lies). In retrospect, he was probably just trying to be nice, but I had no idea what to expect.
At the transfer area, it was not at all clear where the tram stopped, and there were many bus stops and transit areas. I finally figured out that I had to walk up 2 flights of stairs to a pedestrian bridge and buy a token for the tram, then walk down 2 flights of stairs on the other side to board the tram in the correct direction. I finally arrived at the Sultanahmet station and was completely unable to find any street names that corresponded to the weak map from my hotel. Finally, as I wandered back and forth on the tram platform looking lost, a Turkish man approached me and asked me where I was from and if he could help me. I said I needed to find Hotel Petrol, and he pointed directly across the street to a cream colored building with the name painted 10 feet tall on the side - HOTEL PETROL.
The hotel was fairly nice, although the decor was a little on the funky side - circa 1975. As soon as I was able to rest and get my bearings a little, I took a shower and headed up to the rooftop terrace the hotel clerk had recommended for dinner. As I seated myself at the table, I was handed a dinner menu and a hookah menu. I think I was a little late for dinner, as the only people on the terrace were toking from huge hookahs in a leisurely fashion. The different kinds of herbs and tobacco smelled magnificent, and I had gotten the table in the far back corner with the best view in the place. The waiter opened the window for me to get an unobstructed view, and I took this photo from the windowsill. I was immediately enchanted.
Istanbul's Blue Mosque at Night
I had an amazing baked lamb dish and engaged in trivial conversation with the waiter and a couple of the other patrons. Slowly, my paranoia faded, and I realized that the Turkish were just a really friendly bunch of people. After finishing my meal and marveling a little longer at the misty mosque, I headed down to my room. On my way out, the waiter informed me that the Japanese guy at a nearby table wanted to know if I wanted to go out to a bar recommended to us by the wait staff. I said, sure, I'd be ready in about 30 minutes. I met the Japanese guy (can't remember his name) in the lobby and we grabbed a taxi to Taksim square, the "center of new Istanbul" across the Bosphorous strait from the old town where my hotel was located. We arrived at the square and it didn't really look like much was happening, but we wandered for a while and soon we found Istikial Caddesi, the main street in Taksim with hundreds of restaurants, bars and clubs. As soon as we started walking down the street, the crowd started to get denser and denser and we were rapidly feeling overwhelmed. We were immediately approached by guys who continually tried to engage us in English with phrases like, "Hello, how are you?" or "Where are you from?" My friend only knew the most basic English phrases, so I had to do all the talking, telling them that we weren't interested and that we knew where we were going. Finally, one guy started walking with us and would not leave us alone. He kept asking us what kinds of bars we like, whether we were straight or gay and that he could take us to where we wanted to go. We kept telling him to go away, but he stuck with us. We kept getting deeper and deeper in the crowd, and it seemed like it would never end. I was beginning to feel like there were many young men in on this game, keeping up with us to help entrap us as we got farther into foreign territory. My comrade and I chatted quickly amongst ourselves and decided to go back to the square and take a taxi home. A very frustrating night.
When I returned to my floor at the hotel, the doors of several rooms were wide open, with music spilling out, smoke everywhere, and the sounds of giggling from one end of the floor. A Turkish woman slipped by me in a bra and panties. The hotel manager came out in his boxers and a night shirt and gave me a hug, "Hello my friend, how are you?" Um, tired, I needed sleep. I quickly escaped to my room and tried to stuff my earplugs deep in my ears to drown out the sounds of the sex party in the adjoining room.
The next day I set out to explore the most famous sights in the ancient central part of Istanbul, all very close to my hotel. I first visited the Blue Mosque and the adjoining Great Palace Mosaic Museum. Both were really spectacular. The Blue Mosque is still a site of worship, so you have to remove your shoes and carry them with you in a bag and keep quiet in respect for those that who are worshipping. When I visited Morocco in 2004, I remember being told that non-Muslims were not allowed in the mosques. This had evoked a strong sense of curiosity in me... What did they look like inside? What happened in there?? When I finally got inside the Blue Mosque, it was beautiful, but not exactly the exalted experience I had expected, and certainly not as stunning as the view from outside. My guide book says that the Blue Mosque is most beautiful from the outside, while the Aya Sofya reveals its wonders once you are inside. I would have to agree.
The Blue Mosque by Day
View from the Center of the Blue Mosque
Domes of the Blue Mosque
Floor Tile Mosaic in the Great Palace Mosaic Museum
My Guide book had a really good overview of Turkish culture and also listed the five tenets of the Islam faith.
You can read more detail at the Wikipedia entry on Islam. When I first arrived in Morocco, I noticed a sort of gracious austerity among the people. In retrospect, I think this probably has a lot to do with the Islam faith, although my knowledge is so limited, I could only claim it as theory. Istanbul is much more westernized and much more cosmopolitan than the locations I visited in Morocco, but at the same time, I sensed this underlying sense of purity and kindness in most people. I have to say that the Turkish are some of the kindest and most welcoming people I have ever encountered. Soon after my arrival, I realized that I could pretty much be myself, American and all. As soon as I began to tell the truth about my nationality, almost everyone I met had something nice to say about it. Either they had been there and enjoyed it, or they had relatives living there and wanted to visit. Definitely not the image of hatred and resentment that I had expected.
When I finished at the mosaic musuem, I headed over the the Aya Sofya nearby. The thing that most struck me was how obviously ancient it was and the layers of styles from hundreds of years of renovations. It was built in 537 by Emperor Justinian as part of his effort to restore greatness to the Roman Empire. It was reigned as the greatest church in Christendom until the Conquest in 1453, when it was converted into a mosque by Mehmet the Conqueror. In 1935, Turkish Ruler Ataturk proclaimed it a museum. The main dome is apparently the greatest of all domes (thanks to Lonely Planet for these facts).
Aya Sofya
Inside Aya Sofya - The Madonna and Child
Pulpit within the Aya Sofya (It´s Huge! Notice the Person at the Lower Right)
Near the Aya Sofya is a carpet and kilim museum inside an ancient hammam (Turkish Bath). The carpets weren´t really my style, but I loved the beauty of the old hammam. Later that day, I went to a hammam, but it was much more run down and not nearly as striking. It was very relaxing, although I´ll never really understand how you´re supposed to use the bowl to take water from the basin and wash and rinse in a graceful fashion while ensuring that you keep the swath of fabric around your waist.
Ceiling of Ancient Hammam in Istanbul
Hammam Windows
Nearby was the Basilica Cistern. I had seen the entrance earlier in the day, and couldn´t figure out why there was such a huge line for this little box of a building. Once I got inside, I understood. Underground there was a huge cavernous room supported by these amazing ancient pillars. It was built using the pillars and materials from ruined ancient buildings. Two of the pillars have sculptures of the head of Medusa at their base. No one knows why one is sideways and the other is upside down.
The Basilica Underground Cistern
Head of Medusa in Basilica Cistern
That night, I went to bed early, as I had a 7 a.m. flight to Cappadocia for a two-day tour. I awoke the next morning at 3:30 a.m. due to what I think was jet lag. I hadn't had much of a chance to stop and reflect and spend time alone since the beginning of the trip, so I took this time to listen to a guided meditation session that I'd downloaded to my ipod before I left. I was so proud of myself that I had actually awoken before the minarets sounded their pre-dawn call to prayer that I recorded a video to prove it.
When I had finished prepping for the trip, I went downstairs to wait for my airport shuttle. When the shuttle arrived, it was actually a taxi with two very drunk guys who had probably been up partying all night. They said something about the regular shuttle breaking down and that they'd get me there in no time. The driver was a really stocky gruff construction worker type and his copilot was like the skinny jokester. Driving like maniacs and giggling like schoolchildren, they sped me to the airport, pointing out various city sights in broken English along the way (the old city walls, for example). The driver had this really gravelly voice reminiscent of a Turkish Yoda or something. Both of them drank out of plastic tumbler and chain smoked the entire ride. The whole scene was WAY too surreal for 6 a.m.
When I finally got to the airport (alive, YEAH!), there were huge lines everywhere. After checking with the Information desk, I found the correct line, but was very tight for making it to the gate the required 30 minutes before my boarding time. Why hadn't my shuttle drivers... oh, never mind. When I was almost to the counter, I realized that I had left my regular passport in the safe back at my hotel and all I had with me was a photocopy. After much consultation (with beads of sweat forming on my brow), the clerk gave me my boarding pass (whew).
Cappadocia
When I got to the airport in Kayseri, there was someone from my tour group holding a sign with JEFF CHROMY in black magic marker. They quickly rushed me into a small tour van with several others, and then drove for 30 minutes to catch up with the tour that had already begun. I arrived to Cavusin with 10 minutes before we had to board the bus for the next stop. Very cool place for a first impression, though.
Cavusin
On the bus, I took the last open seat next to an Australian guy from Perth. The majority of the bus was Korean high school students, so I made small talk with the one Australian and several women from New Zealand.
Our next stop was Kaymakli underground city. The guide asked before we left the bus if anyone in the group was claustrophobic. She had the coolest pronunciation - clow-stro-phew-bic. I had occasionally felt a little boxed in if in a small space, but nothing that would prevent me from checking this out. As we began the tour, we were sandwiched between two other tour groups, and the corridors of the city were mostly too low to stand up completely. Every 20 or 30 feet, there would be some sort of kitchen or meeting room or ceremonial spot where we'd stop and the guide would give us an overview of the activities of the ancient inhabitants. The fourth corridor we traversed was over 100 feet long, and so low that you had to squat the entire time. By the end of the corridor, when we entered into the next chamber, I began to hyperventilate and my heart starting racing. I kept obsessing on the fact that we were several levels underground with many people and little oxygen and that I was going to die. I knew this was completely illogical, but felt powerless to stop it. I was fortunately able to find an empty room where I could go and breath very slowly, counting 8 seconds in and 8 seconds out for each breath.
I knew that I was probably just dehydrated and tired and fatigued from so much travel in such short time, and above all, I knew that I had to keep my mind from spinning off into the possibilities and distract it from the reality that I was several levels underground. Slowly, I was able to regain my composure, but I had lagged behind so much that I almost lost the rest of the group. That could have been really tragic, although I probably would have been pushed through by the next wave of tourists, anyway.
I made sure to stay a little behind just to ensure that I had enough cool air and space not to lapse back into anxiety mode. A couple of chambers after the attack, we came upon one of the air chambers that connected to the surface. This seemed to ease my mind enough to make it through the rest of the journey. Whoa, that was weird. I had only felt that sensation once before when I was stuck on an underground metro train in San Francisco packed with people in the middle of a power outage.
In retrospect, the underground city was really amazing. I wish I had been a little more coherent to enjoy it. At one time, 15,000 people lived underground there to either escape invaders or the weather or religious persecution. They had 8 different levels and would do pretty much everything underground. They had a whole system for storing sewage in containers and then bringing them above ground when the conditions were more amenable.
Underground City of Kaymakli
View of a Meeting Room from the Hallway in Kaymakli
My New Friends Trying out the Living Room Seats in Kaymakli
Later that day, we took a tour of an onyx gallery and watched them cut and polish the stone (yawn). We also visited several other scenic viewpoints and hiking areas. At the end of the day, we visited Pigeon Valley. Legend has it that the first inhabitants of this valley were fairies. Later, when humans settled in the valley, the fairies were unhappy, so they turned into pigeons, and still inhabit the valley today. The people living in the valley revere the pigeons and have built houses for them in the rocks. They collect their droppings for use as fertilizer.
Pigeon Valley
That night I stayed in Goreme, a town popular with backpackers and tourists. There are these crazy land formations that they call Fairy Chimneys. The hostel where I stayed had rooms inside one of the fairy chimney, but I got one of the regular rooms.
The next morning, I took a hot air balloon ride at sunrise over the crazy Cappadocia landscape. It was one of the highlights of my trip. Just the whole process of getting up into the air and then the feeling of floating and rising and falling is amazing enough, but coupled with the surreal landscape, it was a mind-blowing experience. Check out these videos I took while we were up in the air: video of the landscape featuring moi at the end; video of us barely clearing a mountain top; and a broader view of the spectacular landscape.
There were several balloons up that morning, but I think that we got the most skilled pilot. He was able to bring us so close to the mountain tops that it looked like I could reach down and touch them, and then we would glide effortlessly past to the next valley.
Crazy Cappadocia Landscape
Me in the Hot Air Balloon Over Cappadocia
Later that day, we saw Uchisar Castle. Looks kind of melted from erosion, but very intense. Our guide didn't really tell us much about the history, but it sounds like it's been used for many things over the centuries.
Signs of Life at the Top of Uchisar Castle
We went on to explore the Goreme Open Air Museum, which is a park area that is home to many of the best preserved rock-cut dwellings and churches in the area. Christians created the churches between the 9th and llth centuries so that they could worship in secret during periods of religious persecution. Here is a video of the inside of one of the churches. Careful not to get vertigo... I make a few flips and turns to show all of the different frescoes.
Rock Cut Church Goreme Open Air Museum
Frescoes Inside a Church at the Goreme Open Air Museum
One of the unique features of the Cappadocia landscape is the presence of many types of fairy chimneys. Below is a picture of Love Valley with many fairy chimneys clustered together. Can you see where it gets its name?
Fairy Chimneys in Love Valley
After two days and one night in Cappadocia, I took an overnight bus back to Istanbul. Only another 11 hours of uncomfortable travel… By this time, I was used to it. Right as I was getting ready to board the bus, I saw the Australian guy from Perth who had been my seat mate on the tour bus the day before. We swapped notes on our vacation and then made out way to our respective buses. Then, I had the unexpected fortune of running into these two kind of gothic people from Cleveland who had been on my hot air balloon ride that morning. They were on their way to Sofia, Bulgaria for the next leg of their European adventure, but had to return to Istanbul to get their connecting bus. Nice to have someone to shoot the shit with (my Nebraska roots coming out there…) during the two late night pit stops at the Turkish version of a truck stop. They had this really hilariously dark sense of humor that comes in handy at times like those.
I awoke at dawn to the guy in the seat next to me pointing out two of the big bridges in Istanbul. The nature coming into the city was really pretty, with all these rivers and waterways everywhere. It was really cool to watch the layers of the city unfold in the morning mist as we traversed the urban sprawl and closer to the heart of the city. Istanbul is huge - approximately 11 million people – and looks and feels like a real metropolis. I was really struck by the many mosques dotting the landscape with their minarets reaching to the sky. I guess that in a country where prayer is customary 5 times daily, you always need to have a mosque nearby.
Once I made my way back to my hotel and had a moment to relax, I set out for some sightseeing. Unfortunately, it had started to rain. I decided to go to the Bazaar in central Istanbul, an indoor market where you can get amazing bargains on everything from Turkish rugs to knockoff D&G belt buckles. AND, it’s almost all indoors and safe from the rain.
The Bazaar in Istanbul
More of The Bazaar
That night, after a nap, I went to McDonalds for dinner. I know, it’s awful, but I was feeling so alienated and really just craving something familiar. Once inside, I started thinking about American interests abroad that had been bombed in the past. Suddenly, everyone in the restaurant became a suspect, every bag a potential explosive. I realized this was ridiculous, but at the same time had this underlying tension.
I went back to the hotel and got ready to go out for the night. Determined to find a gay bar, I asked the man at the front desk of my hotel to call a cab that spoke English. The cab came, and as soon as I got in, I could tell that he did not speak a word of English. I showed him the address and name of the bar I sought – Barbhace. He didn’t know where it was, and yelled out to some other men standing on the street, asking them where it was. They didn’t know, either, so he drove somewhere where other cab drivers were and finally we were off. He stopped in the Taksim Square area at a Road Closed sign and said something about how he couldn’t get to the place because of construction, I think. As soon as I had walked a block, I was completely lost again, didn’t recognize any of the street names. Fortunately, I was able to find the main area of Taksim and then just set out to wander through the back streets and try to find one of the names of the gay bars I had seen in the Out Traveler article on Istanbul. I had finally been there long enough that I didn’t have that totally horrified newcomer look, and found that if I walked fast, I kind of blended in. Finally, I recognized a sign – Purple. This was one of the gay bars. I paid like $15 U.S. to get in and the door guys were totally chuckling at me. I realized why when I got inside… nobody there yet. I guess the Turkish have similar nightclub hours to Madrid, and it was only like 11 p.m. I got my free drink and sat around for a while before getting up the nerve to ask the bartender about other gay bars. He grabbed another bartender that spoke English (and was adorable, to boot). This guy told me that Purple had switched to a straight club a few weeks earlier, but that he would recommend the best gay bar in all of Istanbul, called Prive. He drew me a little map and sent me on my way. FINALLY, I was on my way to a gay bar in Turkey.
I found Prive pretty easily, but it too was dead. I grabbed a water from the bartender who told me that Prive was the first gay bar in Turkey, and that it had been around for 15 years. By my calculations, that would mean 1991 – a little over 20 years after the gay revolution in the U.S. After about an hour, the people started to stream in. The first guy to talk to me was really drunk, but had lived in New York for several years. He kept warning me to watch my wallet and be careful. It didn’t really look like a dangerous place, so I just thought he was drunk and kind of crazy. A little bit later, this really cute, really husky looking Neanderthal-type guy came up to me and got really close and smiled and said, “Where you from?” I told him from the U.S. Then he said, “I leave soon. I sex you?” I got turned on immediately, because he was really hot in an animalistic way. I told him that I wasn’t sure. I think he had already used the extent of his English vocabulary on me, so we just stood there and he stared at me like a puppy dog. He seemed really harmless, but something about what the other guy said rang in my head. He walked away for a minute, and when he returned, I asked him if he kissed. He said yes. I said would you kiss me now? He said no. A couple of minutes later, I told him I wouldn’t go home with him. He seemed disappointed, but then just wandered away. Then another cute waifish guy came up to me and said hello, where are you from. He said he was going to another fun gay bar, and asked me if I wanted to come. The warnings from my guidebook were floating around in my head, so I turned this guy down, too. As I stood there on the edge of the bar, I began to realize that all of the cute boys, including the ones I had spoken with, were friends with this old queen in the corner. After more observation, I came to the conclusion that they were all hustlers, and the queen was the pimp. I was very glad that I had not left with any of them, and at the same time really pissed that I had to be so concerned about being victimized. After a few more songs, I made my way to the street and caught a taxi back to my hotel.
The next morning, I had a breakfast baklava and coffee at this place recommended by my guidebook. The baklava was even better than I expected, and it was soooo awesome to have a really good coffee instead of the usual Nescafe at my hotel. The Turks aren't really into coffee, so good coffee is hard to find. They seem to be more into tea (cay, as they call it).
I set out for Topkapi Palace, but on my way there, I got into a conversation with one of the shoe shine guys in the square near the Aya Sofia. I had on my hiking shoes that are like 90 percent suede, and he somehow talked me into letting him give me a shoe shine. He was the cutest fucking shoe shine guy I have ever seen, which may have had something to do with it. Anyway, the whole interaction was really cool until he wanted to charge me an outrageous amount for a shoe shine that I told him I didn't want and really couldn't even use to begin with. We finally settled on a lower amount, and I figured it was the price I had to pay to hang out with a hot local for 15 minutes. The 10 percent of my shoes that were shine-able looked damned good, though, I had to admit. He also used a brush on the suede, so I guess I left with a better foot forward than before.
I eventually made it to Topkapi, and spent the afternoon wandering through it's splendour. Much of the first and second courtyard looked like your usual palacial grandeur, but when I got to the third court, there was some really crazy stuff. One of the first rooms I entered had the actual arm and skull of John the Baptist of biblical fame. The arm was sheathed in silver armor, and you could just see the bones of the hand through an opening. It took me a second to register that this was THE arm of THE John the Baptist. Now that's some major history before your eyes, huh? I noticed that one of the other rooms had a huge line to get in. I walked up to see the sign on the door before deciding whether to wait. It was the room with the famous Topkapi jewels. I had the good fortune to be waiting in line next to an amazing woman from France who is currently living in Jerusalem named Natalie. We hit it off right away, and stuck together through the Topkapi jewels and the holy relics sections. The holy relics contained many personal effects of the prophet Mohammed, including part of a tooth, hair from his beard, and a cloak that he wore. The intensity of emotion in that room and the people pushing their way to the center to see the relics was really overwhelming.
Tired from the day and ready to sit down and relax, Natalie and I went to the cafe at the palace for a coffee with an amazing view of the Bosphorus.
Topkapi Palace with Natalie in the Foreground
The Circumcision Room (That's Right)
After coffee, I accompanied Natalie to meet Chetin, the Turkish man she had met the day before at the bazaar. He invited us to the multi-leveled jewelry store/carpet gallery/crash pad where he worked and we relaxed over a tea. We all needed to rest, so resolved to meet up later in the Taksim square area for my last night on the town.
I returned to my hotel exhausted, but I wanted to make the most of my last hours in Istanbul. I decided to go to the gay hamam that I had read about somewhere online. The hamam was busy and exotic and intense. I'll never forget the color of the light through the steam as the day drifted into twilight and the men sat around in towels talking and laughing in Turkish. As I was getting dressed, one of the men started talking to me in English. After we talked for a few minutes, he said that he and his friends were going to a cafe nearby, and invited me to join them. I, of course, obliged, and was off on my first true adventure with the locals.
The man who invited me was the only one of the three who spoke English. I have unfortunately forgotten all of their names and lost the slip of paper with the email address of the English speaker (sorry sorry sorry you guys). They took me through the maze of streets in Taksim until we eventually came to the building with the cafe. We had to go up three flights of stairs and then ring a buzzer to be let into the gay cafe. As we sat down and talked, I got a little bit of a feel for how much different gay life is in Turkey. My friend said that he was excited because sometimes, if you're lucky, they'll let two men kiss at this cafe. I was like... it's a gay cafe, isn't it? Well, things are a little different in Turkey. I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and somehow (this plays into my complex of always being the freak in the crowd) I accidentally hit the bidet and squirted water all over my pants. There are pretty much never paper towels in bathrooms, and this was no exception, so tried to air dry as quickly as possible, but it was obvious when I came out that something had happened. No one said anything, so I just tried to act like it never happened (and fanned my pants a lot to speed up the drying process).
Then, they took me for the best hamburgers that you get to go and we ate them as we wandered the maze of streets.
Christian Church in Taksim Square Area
Istikial Caddesi in Taksim Square Area
I'm so sad that this needs to be done this way, but because of a severe lack of technical resources in Spain and Turkey and a general lack of time, I have to document the Turkish and Swiss leg of my trip as a retrospective and not real time. I pretty much consider that part of the trip my vacation episode, since the events after have been a little less climactic and sometimes downright unpleasant.
Day 1
Zurich, Switzerland
For some strange reason, all of the cheap flights to Turkey from Madrid had an overnight stay in Zurich, so I was forced to buy an expensive hotel there for one night each way. I have a theory that they just do that to boost tourism, and I guess it worked with me. I paid something like $130 for each night at the only gay hotel in Zurich. The benefit of this was that it came with a bar and a disco attached and was right in the center of the historic district with everything at your disposal. Unfortunately, I arrived too late for any of the regular restaurants, but was still able to find a gyro at a middle eastern place. A strange foreshadowing of my meals to come for the next few weeks.
After recharging with a little sustenance, I showered and headed down to the bar to check it out. Unfortunately, the Swiss don't get moving until pretty late, and I was tired, so after having a soda and wandering around the bar a few times and chatting with a Swiss guy who was back on holiday from London, I decided to call it a night. Everything in Zurich seemed so clean and modern and international. I was really struck by how cosmopolitan it seemed. The residents also seemed to all be tall and slim and beautiful. I wished that I had more time there to really check it out, but alas, I needed sleep.
The next morning, I awoke to a cold rainy day, but still wanted to do a little sightseeing, since it was the only time I'd see the city in the daylight. I got a couple of tips from the very sweet woman at my hostel on where to eat and what I could see nearby. The coffee shop she recommended had the most amazing breakfast special, with a fresh-baked croissant, bread, coffee with milk, muesli and juice for $6. I don't think I've ever had muesli before, but whatever they gave me at that cafe was a slice of heaven. I ended up eating way too much, but left very happy :)
I trekked across the bridge to the Fraumunster Cathedral that the hotel clerk had recommended. Very basic on the outside, but she said that the windows were really famous. I later found out that some of them were designed by Marc Chagall in the 1970's. They were really stunning, unfortunately, some of my pictures are a little blurry.
Istanbul
I left Switzerland around noon feeling fairly well rested and ready for the next leg of the journey. Coming into Istanbul's airport was fairly easy, aside from the long line at customs. Getting to my hostel was another story. I decided to save a little cash and take the metro to a tram to get to the Sultanahmet Square area. I was traveling fairly heavy and dragging my two backpacks and my suitcase onto the metro and then off the metro and onto the tram was a challenge. My guide book had numerous warnings about different scams that occur in Turkey. This, coupled with the normal dose of American paranoia about the Arab world made me suspicious of everyone, verging on paranoia. A guy around my age tried to talk to me in a friendly way on the metro, and I was very short with him and tried not to reveal to much. I said I was from Canada and that I had been to Turkey once before (both lies). In retrospect, he was probably just trying to be nice, but I had no idea what to expect.
At the transfer area, it was not at all clear where the tram stopped, and there were many bus stops and transit areas. I finally figured out that I had to walk up 2 flights of stairs to a pedestrian bridge and buy a token for the tram, then walk down 2 flights of stairs on the other side to board the tram in the correct direction. I finally arrived at the Sultanahmet station and was completely unable to find any street names that corresponded to the weak map from my hotel. Finally, as I wandered back and forth on the tram platform looking lost, a Turkish man approached me and asked me where I was from and if he could help me. I said I needed to find Hotel Petrol, and he pointed directly across the street to a cream colored building with the name painted 10 feet tall on the side - HOTEL PETROL.
The hotel was fairly nice, although the decor was a little on the funky side - circa 1975. As soon as I was able to rest and get my bearings a little, I took a shower and headed up to the rooftop terrace the hotel clerk had recommended for dinner. As I seated myself at the table, I was handed a dinner menu and a hookah menu. I think I was a little late for dinner, as the only people on the terrace were toking from huge hookahs in a leisurely fashion. The different kinds of herbs and tobacco smelled magnificent, and I had gotten the table in the far back corner with the best view in the place. The waiter opened the window for me to get an unobstructed view, and I took this photo from the windowsill. I was immediately enchanted.
I had an amazing baked lamb dish and engaged in trivial conversation with the waiter and a couple of the other patrons. Slowly, my paranoia faded, and I realized that the Turkish were just a really friendly bunch of people. After finishing my meal and marveling a little longer at the misty mosque, I headed down to my room. On my way out, the waiter informed me that the Japanese guy at a nearby table wanted to know if I wanted to go out to a bar recommended to us by the wait staff. I said, sure, I'd be ready in about 30 minutes. I met the Japanese guy (can't remember his name) in the lobby and we grabbed a taxi to Taksim square, the "center of new Istanbul" across the Bosphorous strait from the old town where my hotel was located. We arrived at the square and it didn't really look like much was happening, but we wandered for a while and soon we found Istikial Caddesi, the main street in Taksim with hundreds of restaurants, bars and clubs. As soon as we started walking down the street, the crowd started to get denser and denser and we were rapidly feeling overwhelmed. We were immediately approached by guys who continually tried to engage us in English with phrases like, "Hello, how are you?" or "Where are you from?" My friend only knew the most basic English phrases, so I had to do all the talking, telling them that we weren't interested and that we knew where we were going. Finally, one guy started walking with us and would not leave us alone. He kept asking us what kinds of bars we like, whether we were straight or gay and that he could take us to where we wanted to go. We kept telling him to go away, but he stuck with us. We kept getting deeper and deeper in the crowd, and it seemed like it would never end. I was beginning to feel like there were many young men in on this game, keeping up with us to help entrap us as we got farther into foreign territory. My comrade and I chatted quickly amongst ourselves and decided to go back to the square and take a taxi home. A very frustrating night.
When I returned to my floor at the hotel, the doors of several rooms were wide open, with music spilling out, smoke everywhere, and the sounds of giggling from one end of the floor. A Turkish woman slipped by me in a bra and panties. The hotel manager came out in his boxers and a night shirt and gave me a hug, "Hello my friend, how are you?" Um, tired, I needed sleep. I quickly escaped to my room and tried to stuff my earplugs deep in my ears to drown out the sounds of the sex party in the adjoining room.
The next day I set out to explore the most famous sights in the ancient central part of Istanbul, all very close to my hotel. I first visited the Blue Mosque and the adjoining Great Palace Mosaic Museum. Both were really spectacular. The Blue Mosque is still a site of worship, so you have to remove your shoes and carry them with you in a bag and keep quiet in respect for those that who are worshipping. When I visited Morocco in 2004, I remember being told that non-Muslims were not allowed in the mosques. This had evoked a strong sense of curiosity in me... What did they look like inside? What happened in there?? When I finally got inside the Blue Mosque, it was beautiful, but not exactly the exalted experience I had expected, and certainly not as stunning as the view from outside. My guide book says that the Blue Mosque is most beautiful from the outside, while the Aya Sofya reveals its wonders once you are inside. I would have to agree.
My Guide book had a really good overview of Turkish culture and also listed the five tenets of the Islam faith.
-Testifying that there is none worthy of worship except God, and that Muhammad is his servant and messenger.
-Performing prayer five times daily, after a ritual washing of oneself.
-Fasting from dawn to dusk in the month of Ramadan
-Giving alms to the poor
-The Pilgrimage to Mecca during the month of Dhul Hijjah, which is compulsory once in a lifetime for one who has the ability.
You can read more detail at the Wikipedia entry on Islam. When I first arrived in Morocco, I noticed a sort of gracious austerity among the people. In retrospect, I think this probably has a lot to do with the Islam faith, although my knowledge is so limited, I could only claim it as theory. Istanbul is much more westernized and much more cosmopolitan than the locations I visited in Morocco, but at the same time, I sensed this underlying sense of purity and kindness in most people. I have to say that the Turkish are some of the kindest and most welcoming people I have ever encountered. Soon after my arrival, I realized that I could pretty much be myself, American and all. As soon as I began to tell the truth about my nationality, almost everyone I met had something nice to say about it. Either they had been there and enjoyed it, or they had relatives living there and wanted to visit. Definitely not the image of hatred and resentment that I had expected.
When I finished at the mosaic musuem, I headed over the the Aya Sofya nearby. The thing that most struck me was how obviously ancient it was and the layers of styles from hundreds of years of renovations. It was built in 537 by Emperor Justinian as part of his effort to restore greatness to the Roman Empire. It was reigned as the greatest church in Christendom until the Conquest in 1453, when it was converted into a mosque by Mehmet the Conqueror. In 1935, Turkish Ruler Ataturk proclaimed it a museum. The main dome is apparently the greatest of all domes (thanks to Lonely Planet for these facts).
Near the Aya Sofya is a carpet and kilim museum inside an ancient hammam (Turkish Bath). The carpets weren´t really my style, but I loved the beauty of the old hammam. Later that day, I went to a hammam, but it was much more run down and not nearly as striking. It was very relaxing, although I´ll never really understand how you´re supposed to use the bowl to take water from the basin and wash and rinse in a graceful fashion while ensuring that you keep the swath of fabric around your waist.
Nearby was the Basilica Cistern. I had seen the entrance earlier in the day, and couldn´t figure out why there was such a huge line for this little box of a building. Once I got inside, I understood. Underground there was a huge cavernous room supported by these amazing ancient pillars. It was built using the pillars and materials from ruined ancient buildings. Two of the pillars have sculptures of the head of Medusa at their base. No one knows why one is sideways and the other is upside down.
That night, I went to bed early, as I had a 7 a.m. flight to Cappadocia for a two-day tour. I awoke the next morning at 3:30 a.m. due to what I think was jet lag. I hadn't had much of a chance to stop and reflect and spend time alone since the beginning of the trip, so I took this time to listen to a guided meditation session that I'd downloaded to my ipod before I left. I was so proud of myself that I had actually awoken before the minarets sounded their pre-dawn call to prayer that I recorded a video to prove it.
When I had finished prepping for the trip, I went downstairs to wait for my airport shuttle. When the shuttle arrived, it was actually a taxi with two very drunk guys who had probably been up partying all night. They said something about the regular shuttle breaking down and that they'd get me there in no time. The driver was a really stocky gruff construction worker type and his copilot was like the skinny jokester. Driving like maniacs and giggling like schoolchildren, they sped me to the airport, pointing out various city sights in broken English along the way (the old city walls, for example). The driver had this really gravelly voice reminiscent of a Turkish Yoda or something. Both of them drank out of plastic tumbler and chain smoked the entire ride. The whole scene was WAY too surreal for 6 a.m.
When I finally got to the airport (alive, YEAH!), there were huge lines everywhere. After checking with the Information desk, I found the correct line, but was very tight for making it to the gate the required 30 minutes before my boarding time. Why hadn't my shuttle drivers... oh, never mind. When I was almost to the counter, I realized that I had left my regular passport in the safe back at my hotel and all I had with me was a photocopy. After much consultation (with beads of sweat forming on my brow), the clerk gave me my boarding pass (whew).
Cappadocia
When I got to the airport in Kayseri, there was someone from my tour group holding a sign with JEFF CHROMY in black magic marker. They quickly rushed me into a small tour van with several others, and then drove for 30 minutes to catch up with the tour that had already begun. I arrived to Cavusin with 10 minutes before we had to board the bus for the next stop. Very cool place for a first impression, though.
On the bus, I took the last open seat next to an Australian guy from Perth. The majority of the bus was Korean high school students, so I made small talk with the one Australian and several women from New Zealand.
Our next stop was Kaymakli underground city. The guide asked before we left the bus if anyone in the group was claustrophobic. She had the coolest pronunciation - clow-stro-phew-bic. I had occasionally felt a little boxed in if in a small space, but nothing that would prevent me from checking this out. As we began the tour, we were sandwiched between two other tour groups, and the corridors of the city were mostly too low to stand up completely. Every 20 or 30 feet, there would be some sort of kitchen or meeting room or ceremonial spot where we'd stop and the guide would give us an overview of the activities of the ancient inhabitants. The fourth corridor we traversed was over 100 feet long, and so low that you had to squat the entire time. By the end of the corridor, when we entered into the next chamber, I began to hyperventilate and my heart starting racing. I kept obsessing on the fact that we were several levels underground with many people and little oxygen and that I was going to die. I knew this was completely illogical, but felt powerless to stop it. I was fortunately able to find an empty room where I could go and breath very slowly, counting 8 seconds in and 8 seconds out for each breath.
I knew that I was probably just dehydrated and tired and fatigued from so much travel in such short time, and above all, I knew that I had to keep my mind from spinning off into the possibilities and distract it from the reality that I was several levels underground. Slowly, I was able to regain my composure, but I had lagged behind so much that I almost lost the rest of the group. That could have been really tragic, although I probably would have been pushed through by the next wave of tourists, anyway.
I made sure to stay a little behind just to ensure that I had enough cool air and space not to lapse back into anxiety mode. A couple of chambers after the attack, we came upon one of the air chambers that connected to the surface. This seemed to ease my mind enough to make it through the rest of the journey. Whoa, that was weird. I had only felt that sensation once before when I was stuck on an underground metro train in San Francisco packed with people in the middle of a power outage.
In retrospect, the underground city was really amazing. I wish I had been a little more coherent to enjoy it. At one time, 15,000 people lived underground there to either escape invaders or the weather or religious persecution. They had 8 different levels and would do pretty much everything underground. They had a whole system for storing sewage in containers and then bringing them above ground when the conditions were more amenable.
Later that day, we took a tour of an onyx gallery and watched them cut and polish the stone (yawn). We also visited several other scenic viewpoints and hiking areas. At the end of the day, we visited Pigeon Valley. Legend has it that the first inhabitants of this valley were fairies. Later, when humans settled in the valley, the fairies were unhappy, so they turned into pigeons, and still inhabit the valley today. The people living in the valley revere the pigeons and have built houses for them in the rocks. They collect their droppings for use as fertilizer.
That night I stayed in Goreme, a town popular with backpackers and tourists. There are these crazy land formations that they call Fairy Chimneys. The hostel where I stayed had rooms inside one of the fairy chimney, but I got one of the regular rooms.
The next morning, I took a hot air balloon ride at sunrise over the crazy Cappadocia landscape. It was one of the highlights of my trip. Just the whole process of getting up into the air and then the feeling of floating and rising and falling is amazing enough, but coupled with the surreal landscape, it was a mind-blowing experience. Check out these videos I took while we were up in the air: video of the landscape featuring moi at the end; video of us barely clearing a mountain top; and a broader view of the spectacular landscape.
There were several balloons up that morning, but I think that we got the most skilled pilot. He was able to bring us so close to the mountain tops that it looked like I could reach down and touch them, and then we would glide effortlessly past to the next valley.
Later that day, we saw Uchisar Castle. Looks kind of melted from erosion, but very intense. Our guide didn't really tell us much about the history, but it sounds like it's been used for many things over the centuries.
We went on to explore the Goreme Open Air Museum, which is a park area that is home to many of the best preserved rock-cut dwellings and churches in the area. Christians created the churches between the 9th and llth centuries so that they could worship in secret during periods of religious persecution. Here is a video of the inside of one of the churches. Careful not to get vertigo... I make a few flips and turns to show all of the different frescoes.
One of the unique features of the Cappadocia landscape is the presence of many types of fairy chimneys. Below is a picture of Love Valley with many fairy chimneys clustered together. Can you see where it gets its name?
After two days and one night in Cappadocia, I took an overnight bus back to Istanbul. Only another 11 hours of uncomfortable travel… By this time, I was used to it. Right as I was getting ready to board the bus, I saw the Australian guy from Perth who had been my seat mate on the tour bus the day before. We swapped notes on our vacation and then made out way to our respective buses. Then, I had the unexpected fortune of running into these two kind of gothic people from Cleveland who had been on my hot air balloon ride that morning. They were on their way to Sofia, Bulgaria for the next leg of their European adventure, but had to return to Istanbul to get their connecting bus. Nice to have someone to shoot the shit with (my Nebraska roots coming out there…) during the two late night pit stops at the Turkish version of a truck stop. They had this really hilariously dark sense of humor that comes in handy at times like those.
I awoke at dawn to the guy in the seat next to me pointing out two of the big bridges in Istanbul. The nature coming into the city was really pretty, with all these rivers and waterways everywhere. It was really cool to watch the layers of the city unfold in the morning mist as we traversed the urban sprawl and closer to the heart of the city. Istanbul is huge - approximately 11 million people – and looks and feels like a real metropolis. I was really struck by the many mosques dotting the landscape with their minarets reaching to the sky. I guess that in a country where prayer is customary 5 times daily, you always need to have a mosque nearby.
Once I made my way back to my hotel and had a moment to relax, I set out for some sightseeing. Unfortunately, it had started to rain. I decided to go to the Bazaar in central Istanbul, an indoor market where you can get amazing bargains on everything from Turkish rugs to knockoff D&G belt buckles. AND, it’s almost all indoors and safe from the rain.
That night, after a nap, I went to McDonalds for dinner. I know, it’s awful, but I was feeling so alienated and really just craving something familiar. Once inside, I started thinking about American interests abroad that had been bombed in the past. Suddenly, everyone in the restaurant became a suspect, every bag a potential explosive. I realized this was ridiculous, but at the same time had this underlying tension.
I went back to the hotel and got ready to go out for the night. Determined to find a gay bar, I asked the man at the front desk of my hotel to call a cab that spoke English. The cab came, and as soon as I got in, I could tell that he did not speak a word of English. I showed him the address and name of the bar I sought – Barbhace. He didn’t know where it was, and yelled out to some other men standing on the street, asking them where it was. They didn’t know, either, so he drove somewhere where other cab drivers were and finally we were off. He stopped in the Taksim Square area at a Road Closed sign and said something about how he couldn’t get to the place because of construction, I think. As soon as I had walked a block, I was completely lost again, didn’t recognize any of the street names. Fortunately, I was able to find the main area of Taksim and then just set out to wander through the back streets and try to find one of the names of the gay bars I had seen in the Out Traveler article on Istanbul. I had finally been there long enough that I didn’t have that totally horrified newcomer look, and found that if I walked fast, I kind of blended in. Finally, I recognized a sign – Purple. This was one of the gay bars. I paid like $15 U.S. to get in and the door guys were totally chuckling at me. I realized why when I got inside… nobody there yet. I guess the Turkish have similar nightclub hours to Madrid, and it was only like 11 p.m. I got my free drink and sat around for a while before getting up the nerve to ask the bartender about other gay bars. He grabbed another bartender that spoke English (and was adorable, to boot). This guy told me that Purple had switched to a straight club a few weeks earlier, but that he would recommend the best gay bar in all of Istanbul, called Prive. He drew me a little map and sent me on my way. FINALLY, I was on my way to a gay bar in Turkey.
I found Prive pretty easily, but it too was dead. I grabbed a water from the bartender who told me that Prive was the first gay bar in Turkey, and that it had been around for 15 years. By my calculations, that would mean 1991 – a little over 20 years after the gay revolution in the U.S. After about an hour, the people started to stream in. The first guy to talk to me was really drunk, but had lived in New York for several years. He kept warning me to watch my wallet and be careful. It didn’t really look like a dangerous place, so I just thought he was drunk and kind of crazy. A little bit later, this really cute, really husky looking Neanderthal-type guy came up to me and got really close and smiled and said, “Where you from?” I told him from the U.S. Then he said, “I leave soon. I sex you?” I got turned on immediately, because he was really hot in an animalistic way. I told him that I wasn’t sure. I think he had already used the extent of his English vocabulary on me, so we just stood there and he stared at me like a puppy dog. He seemed really harmless, but something about what the other guy said rang in my head. He walked away for a minute, and when he returned, I asked him if he kissed. He said yes. I said would you kiss me now? He said no. A couple of minutes later, I told him I wouldn’t go home with him. He seemed disappointed, but then just wandered away. Then another cute waifish guy came up to me and said hello, where are you from. He said he was going to another fun gay bar, and asked me if I wanted to come. The warnings from my guidebook were floating around in my head, so I turned this guy down, too. As I stood there on the edge of the bar, I began to realize that all of the cute boys, including the ones I had spoken with, were friends with this old queen in the corner. After more observation, I came to the conclusion that they were all hustlers, and the queen was the pimp. I was very glad that I had not left with any of them, and at the same time really pissed that I had to be so concerned about being victimized. After a few more songs, I made my way to the street and caught a taxi back to my hotel.
The next morning, I had a breakfast baklava and coffee at this place recommended by my guidebook. The baklava was even better than I expected, and it was soooo awesome to have a really good coffee instead of the usual Nescafe at my hotel. The Turks aren't really into coffee, so good coffee is hard to find. They seem to be more into tea (cay, as they call it).
I set out for Topkapi Palace, but on my way there, I got into a conversation with one of the shoe shine guys in the square near the Aya Sofia. I had on my hiking shoes that are like 90 percent suede, and he somehow talked me into letting him give me a shoe shine. He was the cutest fucking shoe shine guy I have ever seen, which may have had something to do with it. Anyway, the whole interaction was really cool until he wanted to charge me an outrageous amount for a shoe shine that I told him I didn't want and really couldn't even use to begin with. We finally settled on a lower amount, and I figured it was the price I had to pay to hang out with a hot local for 15 minutes. The 10 percent of my shoes that were shine-able looked damned good, though, I had to admit. He also used a brush on the suede, so I guess I left with a better foot forward than before.
I eventually made it to Topkapi, and spent the afternoon wandering through it's splendour. Much of the first and second courtyard looked like your usual palacial grandeur, but when I got to the third court, there was some really crazy stuff. One of the first rooms I entered had the actual arm and skull of John the Baptist of biblical fame. The arm was sheathed in silver armor, and you could just see the bones of the hand through an opening. It took me a second to register that this was THE arm of THE John the Baptist. Now that's some major history before your eyes, huh? I noticed that one of the other rooms had a huge line to get in. I walked up to see the sign on the door before deciding whether to wait. It was the room with the famous Topkapi jewels. I had the good fortune to be waiting in line next to an amazing woman from France who is currently living in Jerusalem named Natalie. We hit it off right away, and stuck together through the Topkapi jewels and the holy relics sections. The holy relics contained many personal effects of the prophet Mohammed, including part of a tooth, hair from his beard, and a cloak that he wore. The intensity of emotion in that room and the people pushing their way to the center to see the relics was really overwhelming.
Tired from the day and ready to sit down and relax, Natalie and I went to the cafe at the palace for a coffee with an amazing view of the Bosphorus.
After coffee, I accompanied Natalie to meet Chetin, the Turkish man she had met the day before at the bazaar. He invited us to the multi-leveled jewelry store/carpet gallery/crash pad where he worked and we relaxed over a tea. We all needed to rest, so resolved to meet up later in the Taksim square area for my last night on the town.
I returned to my hotel exhausted, but I wanted to make the most of my last hours in Istanbul. I decided to go to the gay hamam that I had read about somewhere online. The hamam was busy and exotic and intense. I'll never forget the color of the light through the steam as the day drifted into twilight and the men sat around in towels talking and laughing in Turkish. As I was getting dressed, one of the men started talking to me in English. After we talked for a few minutes, he said that he and his friends were going to a cafe nearby, and invited me to join them. I, of course, obliged, and was off on my first true adventure with the locals.
The man who invited me was the only one of the three who spoke English. I have unfortunately forgotten all of their names and lost the slip of paper with the email address of the English speaker (sorry sorry sorry you guys). They took me through the maze of streets in Taksim until we eventually came to the building with the cafe. We had to go up three flights of stairs and then ring a buzzer to be let into the gay cafe. As we sat down and talked, I got a little bit of a feel for how much different gay life is in Turkey. My friend said that he was excited because sometimes, if you're lucky, they'll let two men kiss at this cafe. I was like... it's a gay cafe, isn't it? Well, things are a little different in Turkey. I excused myself to go to the bathroom, and somehow (this plays into my complex of always being the freak in the crowd) I accidentally hit the bidet and squirted water all over my pants. There are pretty much never paper towels in bathrooms, and this was no exception, so tried to air dry as quickly as possible, but it was obvious when I came out that something had happened. No one said anything, so I just tried to act like it never happened (and fanned my pants a lot to speed up the drying process).
Then, they took me for the best hamburgers that you get to go and we ate them as we wandered the maze of streets.
posted by Chromest*r at 5:02 PM
1 Comments:
Great Pics
Many Thanks for your sharing.
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