Turkey Tour

İ am currently traveling around Turkey trying to see as much of it as possible before İ have to leave. Below are some pictures of the trip so far.

İ started out staying at my friend Craig's house in Akyaka on the coast. He owns a lovely Ottoman style wood house. Each day İ rode the bike to the beach and bought produce from the open air market across the street. İ finally got my wish of having unpasturized milk. The dead giveaway is that it came in a lightly used water bottle.

Next İ took a 4 hour bus ride south to meet my friend Okan in Korkuteli near Antalya. He met me at the bus depot, and as we were walking to his families' home some people on the street noticed that İ was a foreigner and asked me to beklyorsınız (waıt) for a moment. They picked a bag full of fresh plums from their tree and handed them to me. Turkish hospitality. We stayed with his family and spent two days in Olympos - beautiful ruins by the sea. This is where we found the biggest bug İve ever seen (see picture)and the best breakfast in Turkey complete with tons of home made jams.

We toured Antalya for a day and then headed to Cappadocia, land of fairy chimneys and underground cities, where for eons the people have lived in houses carved from the soft stone and periodically gone into hiding underground in their carved out cities to escape the successive waves of invaders on the Anatolian plains. We rode bikes and İ have to admit İ took a route down a canyon that was a bit more difficult and committing than İ had expected. Upon our exit we came upon a farmer harvesting his apricots who invited us to have some. I helped harvest a few with the stick (note that in the picture I am still a bit shell shocked from the ride - still wearing my helmet and you can see the back of my pants are a bit dirty from sliding down the hill with the bike in front of me).

Next we took an overnight bus up north to Bolu where Okan spent his childhood. İt was by far the worst bus ride İve had in Turkey. We got the ghetto seats on the bus - second to the back. Bouncy and a bit hard on my stomach. Next a couple and their 3 kids squeezed into three seats behind us. The man was quite odiferous and between him, the smoking bus driver, and the bouncing, it was all İ could do not to lose my dinner.

We arrived at 2 a.m. (a few hours earlier than we had expected) and hiked to the hotel where we had reservations the next night. Unfortunately they were full for that night, so we camped out in the corner of the lobby.

Who would like a KITTEN?

Three sweet kittens and one mom looking for homes. Their pregnant mother befriended me, conned me into feeding her, and then decided to have her kittens on my porch. Now I feel somewhat responsible for their welfare. Kittens are about 3 weeks old, not weaned yet. The mother is the sweetest cat I've ever met, but she can sure hold her own against the neighborhood dog. She has got some attitude!

Not sure about import to U.S., costs, etc., but if you are interested, you know how to contact me. Seriously.

Konya

Last week I went to Konya and participated in another English language camp. This time, I was just a fill-in teacher for a day - no stress!

Located on the Central Anatolian plateau, known previously as Iconium, Claudioconium, and Colonia Aelia Hadriana, Konya is known as one of the most conservative cities in Turkey. Most women wear headscarves and there is nary an alcoholic drink to be found in the city (though I am told that the population drinks more per capita than in any other city in Turkey). Ruled by the Hittites, the Phrygians, The Persians, Alexander the Great, The Seljuk Turks, and finally the Ottoman Empire before present-day Turkey, Konya is known as the place where Mawlānā Jalāl-ad-Dīn Muhammad Rūmī (known to Turks as Mevlana, to us as Rumi) wrote some of his best-known works. After his death, his followers began the Sufi Order or Whirling Dervishes a sect or interpretation of Islam.

I visited the museum/mosque where he is entombed and walked the streets he walked; saw the mountains that he saw. He writes about mystical union and acceptance of everyone, rich or poor, non-believer or believer:

Come, come, whoever you are.
Wanderer, worshipper, lover of leaving — it doesn't matter,
Ours is not a caravan of despair.
Come, even if you have broken your vow a hundred times,
Come, come again, come.

I also got the chance to take a day trip to Kiliri (sp?) a town rumored to be like Cappadocia with ancient houses and churches carved into the stone. I contracted with the hotel driver to take me to the site; we drove for 50 km on increasingly rural roads. Only speaking Turkish, he managed to convey to me that he had not been there before, but he had heard of it. He stopped at a grocery store on the way and bought water and Coke and bananas in case I was thirsty or hungry. When we arrived in the dusty town, the police station that was supposed to be at the entrance to the ruins was nonexistent. He struck up a conversation with the men at the post office who directed us to the various ruins around the town. He drove his taxi till we were in danger of bottoming out. Across the valley, the ruins beckoned to me, but there was no way that we could find to drive there.

I decided to set out on foot, and Fahri, my taxi driver, asked if he could come with me (at least that was my understanding). I answered in the affirmative and we set out, he in dress shoes, dress slacks, white shirt; me in shorts and open-toed sandals (ouch!).

We walked through fields and met some farmers harvesting wheat who directed us to an ancient vineyard where the grape stomping and fermenting rooms were carved into the stone cliffs. It was fun exploring because there wasn’t even one other visitor in the area, just people going about their daily lives.

I finished my trip with a terrific day in Ankara with my good friends, Eve and Michael, who are also English Language Fellows. Had another haircut. . . let’s just say that I am glad I have 6 weeks until I get back to the U.S.

Conference, Camp, Ambassadorial visit

8:27 and I just dropped off the last teachers at the bus station to go home. The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of activity from dawn to midnight and beyond, and now, just like that, it is all over.

The conference week went well, despite the expected technical issues. We had some interesting sessions with guest speakers; the group learned a lot from each other, which was what I was hoping for, and I got to meet some wonderful people.

I also realized something about Turkish culture. Although doing business via relationships with people can be annoyingly slow and seem like a waste of time, the previously unseen (to me) benefit is this very real web of support and help at both a personal and societal level. Every time I needed something done that I couldn't do, I realized that there was someone who picked up the slack, without question. Sometimes it was a good friend, like Feryal or Okan; sometimes, it was someone who was a stranger to me just hours or minutes before. In the U.S. we are focused on independence, and we pride ourselves on having the tools and know-how to "go it alone"; however, when that system breaks down, there is often no one to save you. When the system here breaks down (and it does) there is always someone to dust you off and take your hand. I love that about Turkey.

The second week (the camp) was great. Seven of my former students who had attended the conference last week became the teacher/counselors for the camp. They developed their own lesson plans during the conference week during our sessions, and they had a chance to carry them out this week with the kids. They did an amazing job, making this one of the best work weeks I've ever had. It's as if all of my work this year came to fruition in this week. Lots of tears were shed during the goodbyes.

40 campers showed up - most of them Access microscholarship recipients who are receiving two years of free English lessons via a State Department grant. Although they study English grammar, most had never really practiced spoken English, let alone had the chance to talk to a native speaker. Filling out the ranks were three English teachers from Izmir and about 10 volunteers from the nearby NATO/army/air force bases as well as a volunteer dance teacher from the states and a Swedish national living in Izmir. Every day we got the kids to practice their English with games and other activities. Judging by the smiles on everyone's faces and the snippets of English I heard, it was a real success.

The week before the camp, I was informed that the U.S. ambassador to Turkey would like to visit the camp. I agreed, and the planning began. I never realized how scripted an ambassadorial visit would be. It started out with me creating a minute-by-minute schedule. When his entourage arrived (security, walkie talkies, PR people, press) on Thursday morning, we did a walk-through. When he arrived, I greeted him and took him on a tour of the classrooms, invited him to participate in the hip-hop dance lesson (he declined - bad shoes), and we had a Q&A session with our kids.

The students had already drafted questions the day before. Some of them quite innocent, some very political. We opened the floor for questions, and the first student/camper shot her hand up and directly asked about America's position on the "so-called Armenian genocide". She had asked me the day before if she could ask this question, and even though I knew it could be uncomfortable, I realized that I'd rather risk awkwardness than censor their thoughts.

The rest of the questioning went well, and the students finished by singing the song, "Blowing in the Wind" for the ambassador (a song that has been used as a war protest song). The press was going crazy, recording and snapping shots (I was on Turkish news!). Ok, I know some of you who know me are thinking that this particular song was my idea. And while I admit that did approve of the song (wholeheartedly), I actually did not suggest it. One of my students who loves Joan Baez and Bob Dylan did. The choice isn't surprising; one of the first things Turks are ask me about, when they find out that I'm an American, is the war in Iraq; every one that I have talked to is believes it to be a very negative thing. I thought this was a gentle yet unmistakable way of letting their voices be heard.

And now the road ahead is clear. I have the next six weeks to myself, and I am again realizing something that I forget in times of extreme stress and busyness (last 2 months), that I will truly miss my job, my colleagues, my students, and the feeling that I make a small difference in some people's lives.


Oh yeah, and somewhere, somehow during the last year, I conquered my fear of speaking in front of groups.

Conference

Next week is the big conference that I have been planning, that has been taking over my life, that has caused more stress than any work project ever has. On Tuesdsay, after weeks of paperwork and my coworker, Feryal, negotiating on my behalf, I finally got permission to use the computer lab for two hours a day during the conference. I went into the lab today to make sure the computers worked and that the workshop participants could do the tasks they will need to do, and nothing worked. The sound cards don't work; Media Player doesn't work. I am teaching a class on podcasting, but I am not allowed to download a podcatcher onto any of the computers or any other type of software (making it impossible for participants to listen to a sample podcast). All of the audio recording software is disabled (making recording a podcast impossible). The Internet connection is as slow as molasses, so nothing can be streamed, and even simple tasks are time consuming.

After nearly having broke down in the office, I came home to a wonderful message from my friend Emma expressing her appreciation for the things that I do in the community/with the community. And she pointed out that, although I initiate these things, I don't often take control of the movements, but allow them a life of their own.

It made me realize that I don't really want to be the lead trainer of university professors, teachers, and students next week. In fact, I don't really believe in the reality that there is someone with the answers (me) and someone to be taught (them). We learn from each other, and I dislike the artificial role of "expert". A little late for this revelation, I guess.

Dividends

Today I met with my 1C conversation class for the last time. For their final exam, we watched three short films that they wrote, edited, acted, directed, and produced, entirely in English. I was amazed by the quality of the films; they truly exceeded my expectations (and my abilities). I guess one of the most satisfying parts about being a teacher is when your students surprise and surpass you.

On another note, my 1D class brought me a most thoughtful gift. It was a wooden chest (usually reserved for women getting married, but I guess they've given up on me for that. . .) And it was filled with a a drawing or a note from each member of the class as well as a little porcelain ring box. That is something I will always treasure.

Two of my students from that same class are from Karamameras - the dondurma (Turkish ice cream) capital of Turkey. I always teased them that I would have to come visit just to try the ice cream. Instead, they brought the ice cream to me. They had their parents overnight me two kilos of ice cream in a special container; it was still frozen, and delicious, when it arrived.

A Gift

The school year is wrapping up and I am having to say goodbye to some of the best students I've ever had the pleasure to teach. My 1B conversation class surprised me last week when I wen to meet with them to return their papers. Obviously excited, they all gathered around me and presented me with a going away gift of a beautiful silver necklace, earrings, and ring embedded with matching green stones (my favorite color).
Despite the culture shock and moments of sickness and frustration, this year I have managed not to cry in front of my students (until now).

Chios, Greece

Kirk left early this week, but before he left, we decided to explore one of the closest Greek islands, Chios. A 1.5 hour bus ride deposited us in Cesme where we caught the hour-long ferry to the island. An auspicious beginning to our trip, we were escorted by a pod of dolphins across the water. They torpedoed up next to the boat, frolicked in the wake for a few minutes, then left as quickly as they had appeared.

We rented a car and spent two days exploring the mountainous island. Ignoring the skull and crossbones on the road signs, we found beautiful deserted beaches beyond. We explored stone-walled villages and ate at cafes (ordering by mime). On our last night, we found a little restaurant in a quiet harbor and watched the Greek nightlife pass by as we ate mezes and fish, throwing increasingly larger pieces of bread into the sea to if we could start a fish feeding frenzy (we could).

After being in Turkey this long, I realize I take for granted my ability to use Turkish to accomplish everyday tasks. We foolishly went to Greece without knowing even a word of the language. It worked out, but I would recommend a bit more preparation.

I am back now during the last two weeks of school (finals) and preparing for the upcoming conference and summer camp that I have been madly planning. I also agreed to do some work for the Ministry of Education, editing one of their ESL books, so my time is spoken for. The weekend away was a refreshing break. Come July 1, I hope to have some free time!

Still no word on what next year will hold. On June 15, the English Languge Fellow program will begin to offer the "hard to fill" positions to returning fellows. Unfortunately, the appointments that are still available look like ones that I wouldn't be very excited about (with the exception of Brazil), so I have started to put out my CV elsewhere. After having so much autonomy and ability to be creative in my current position, I feel that I can't go back to a "regular" job. I want work that is fulfilling, challenging, rewarding, and that pays decently. Is that too much to ask?

A Decision and Istanbul (again)

I have made the semi-decision not to come back to Turkey next year, but to instead throw my hat in the ring for a new post in another part of the world. Turkey has been wonderful, but if I have to uproot myself, make new friends, and learn a new city, I might as well do it while learning about a new culture and living in a new country. I also figure that this may be my last chance to live abroad, as it took a whole lot of gumption to move out of my comfortable life in Denver (I don't know that I could do that again); therefore, I'd like to experience one more year, if I can find the right position.

Georgetown first places new applicants in the available positions. Starting in mid-June, they offer the "hard to fill" positions to renewing fellows. We will see what comes up!

Kirk and I went to Istanbul last weekend and stayed with my friend Natalie. We ate koftw, took a cruise on the Bosphorous, saw the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia, toured Topkapi Palace, drank tea, and generally had fun.
The Today show filmed there the following day, even though I detest Matt Lauer, the clip is interesting there is also a great segment about places to go in Turkey (note: they obviously did not check how to pronounce a couple of the place names.)
Pictures below.

The Lycian Way

Apologies for the infrequency of my posts. I am in the midst of planning a 5-day conference and an English language summer camp (both in June) and trying to see as much of Turkey as possible with Kirk while he visits.

To that end, we just spent three days hiking on the Lycian Way, a long distance trekking route that runs for 508 km. along the west coast of Turkey.

Although the trip got off to an inauspicious start with us being let off the overnight bus at 4:30 a.m., seemingly in the middle of nowhere, it improved dramatically with the rising of the sun and some warm soup from the neighborhood restaurant.

We caught a taxi to the trailhead and began to hike. Like almost every other place in Turkey, there are multi-thousand-year-old ruins waiting to be explored by passers-by. During the days we enjoyed stunning views of the mountains and sea while we wound through small villages, isolated beaches, and high meadows, sometimes crossing paths with the occasional shepherd. Each night along the way we stayed in a different pension and ate delicious home-cooked meals.

Pictures below:

Pamukkale

Last weekend my friend Okan and I visited Pamukkale hot springs and the ruins of Heiropolis, a UNESCO World heritage site whose history dates from the second century BC. The ruins were beautiful and the water in the nearby resort was warm. Had we known to bring our suits, tourists can float around in the middle of a pool in the park peering down onto the submerged ruins.

Centuries of the mineral-rich water depositing calcium as it cooled has created a hillside of white terraced mineral travertine pools. Twenty years ago water was still running abundantly, but recent resource use from the town below has slowed the flow considerably.

Throughout history many have come to soak in the waters of Pammukale, hoping for a cure to what ailed them. Among other things, the ruins contain the remains of fountains, a stadium that seated 12,000, a church that stands where St. Phillip was supposedly martyred, and a huge necropolis (for those who the waters didn't cure).

Getting into the park is a little strange. . you can either come on an organized tour, take the 2-mile walk through the acropolis to the main ruins, or hike barefoot for 250 meters up the travertine pools. We came in the long way, but decided to exit via the travertines. Unfortunately a very cold and windy rainstorm ruined Okan's umbrella and soaked us to the bone. The warm chai in the town below was a welcome site!

The last picture was necessary to include because I think it illustrates Turks' love for bread. They delivered a bucket of bread with our meal.

I still am vacillating on staying or going next year. The students here are so sweet; the first picture is a little card they drew for me during the 10-minute class break and left on my desk. What would it be like to start over in a new school and a new town?

A Friend Remembered

This Saturday will mark the one-year anniversary of the death of my dear friend, Rex Patrick. Over the last year, I have learned a lot, not only about a new culture, new people, but I have learned about coping with the loss of someone I’d never imagined that I would lose. How important it has been to have my friends and family supporting me, yet I have come to understand that mourning is ultimately a journey that must be undertaken alone.

A product of a very hard upbringing, somehow Rex had transformed his experience to become one of the most gentle and kind people I have ever known. Once at a store, we were buying brie and fruit for a spontaneous picnic. Rex was “sampling” the grapes when one woman snarkily asked him if he shouldn’t buy the grapes before eating them. Nonplussed, Rex agreed that he probably should buy them before sampling them. She immediately sensed his sincerity and backed down; I learned something that day about the value of trying to see through people’s defenses and anger in order to hear their real message. That is the way Rex taught; not through advice, but through example. He had a way of disarming everyone he met with his sincere gentle nature.

Rex wasn’t without orneriness, though. During the winter, he would announce his entry into my yard by lobbing a snowball or two at my upstairs window, startling me and sending reverberations through my house. He loved to see me get all riled up and sternly warn him not to do it again, lest he break the window (of course, the more I protested, the more regular his ice missives became). His visits to my house always resulted in brie and/or Ben and Jerry’s ice cream mysteriously disappearing. In addition, my favorite hats would go missing only to reappear weeks later on his head. He loved playing practical jokes; one day we were mountain biking in Fruita. Miles ahead of me on the trail, he hid behind a rock outcropping and patiently waited. I am not sure how many minutes/hours he had but wait, but it paid off when I finally came pedaling by. Just as I was passing, Rex jumped out from his hiding place; I nearly fell off my bike in fright. Rex could hardly speak for his fit of laughter.

I wish everyone could have a Rex in their lives. Throughout the ten years I knew him, he taught me about friendship, love, gentleness, and honesty. Rex was a two-time one-legged Olympian. But to me, those accomplishments pale in comparison to what he did for human beings. He was always flitting from place to place, counseling this friend, helping that person move, volunteering for a cause. One snowy winter I was caught at home in a blizzard without any sandbags in my truck. It was Rex who somehow managed to find sandbags in Denver during a blizzard (impossible), and made his way to my house where he threw them into my truck. During his memorial two people got up and shared that they wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for Rex, and I know there were more who kept quiet. I can’t sum up everything he meant to me but to say that I wouldn’t be the person I am today without him, and for every moment I had with him, I am thankful.

Some of my favorite pictures of Rex are here. They were taken by me, his friends, and family.

Nice Students

This week my students picked a bunch of wildflowers and brought them to me in class. Later I was asking my other class where I could get "Lokma", a specialty here in Izmir, said to be like doughnut holes, but better - of course I was interested. They told me that if anyone died or had a baby, families will give out Lokma to passers-by, but short of anyone passing away or being born, they didn't know of anywhere one could reliably buy this goody. A few hours later I walked into my office only to find a plate of lokma, procured by two of my students.

That is one thing I love about Turkish students, they aren't as jaded as American students; they will still show open affection for their mothers, their friends, their teachers.

Last weekend Okan, his mom, and I went to Cesme (pronounced Cheshmay), a seaside resort town with a castle from the 16th century. I have included some pictures here.

Next Year up in the Air

Yesterday I received word from the embassy that the major cities in Turkey - Istanbul, Ankara, Izmir - will not be renewed for English Language Fellow placements next year. It seems the ELF program took a big financial hit for the 2008/09 fiscal period, and the Turkey mission is refocusing its efforts to target universities where students have limited opportunities to work with Americans. Although I was expecting it, I am still disappointed that I won't be able to be in Izmir next year.

Last night I had a long talk with Craig, the person at the US embassy who is most directly connected to the ELF program. He said that if I'd like to stay in Turkey, he'd negotiate the red tape to transfer me to one of the sites that are available next year. The choices are universities in the following cities: Adana, Gaziantep, Konya, Erzurum, Trabzone, and Denizli.

Part of me feels that I should take the opportunity, as I know that I would continue to learn a lot and grow professionally if I took another post in Turkey. On the other hand I miss the comforts of home, a familiar culture, and my friends and family.

Gerceklestirilecektir or Why Turkish is Difficult

Gerceklestirilecektir is a word; more specifically it a noun with derivational and inflectional suffixes that change it into a verb, indicate tense, plurality, semantic role, etc. It means that something will come to pass (human dictionary: coworker). It was part of an email message delivered to me to my work email address.

Unlike French and Spanish words, which you can look up in a dictionary, in order to look up Turkish verbs, you need to know what the root is, how many suffixes are attached, and the boundaries between them all (f course you don't know this until you learn the language). In addition Turkish verbs carry much more information than Romance or Germanic verbs and are, therefore, pivotal to understanding the utterance. And then there is the whole vowel harmony thing, but that is another story.

On the plus side, strangers sometimes praise me for my "beautiful" Turkish. Would they feel differently if they knew I'd already been here for five months?

Thank Goodness for Cultural Differences

Today, as I was rushing out the door to go teach, I did a quick check in the mirror. Paired with other pieces, the boots, the turtle neck with a pointy collar, or the long short/pants would have been fine, but to my great dismay, I realized that together they made me look like a Star Trek convention escapee.

As most women know, changing outfits is at least a 20-minute prospect, and I had cut the time close as usual, so I was forced to go to school hoping that none of my students would notice my resemblance to Captain Kirk.

Abundance

My mailing address in Turkey delivers packages to my office, so when I returned to work on Monday, my desk was piled high with packages and letters from friends and family: pictures of Preeti's beautiful children; sweaters from Jori; Simpsons and House episodes on DVD, chocolate, coffee from Kirk; candle holders and chocolate from Kirk's parents; various Christmas gifts from my mom; a warm blanket, chocolate, household items from Kelly; a season of South Park, New Yorker magazines, my favorite "hippy" pancake mix, a horoscope from Jay (ok, choclate too) . . . You'd think I'd have a lot of chocolate by this time, but somehow it is conspicuously absent from my house. I'll need to do a thorough search later today. :)

I am noting which things are particularly wonderful (you wouldn't expect that a cloth that soaks up like a sponge but wipes like a cloth could bring so much joy), so I can put together a winning care package for my cousin Sarah who will be spending two years in Central Africa with the Peace Corps starting sometime soon. I have a feeling that her experience there will make my time in Turkey look like EuroDisney.

Lisa's visit was wonderful. We explored downtown Izmir's Kemeralti, endless winding streets of vendors hawking everything from key copies, to Turkish symbols to ward off the evil eye, to fresh squeezed pomegranate juice. We took the bus to the "bad" part of town to visit Kadifekale, a fort build by Alexander the Great. On the coldest day of the year, we explored Pergamon, a series of ruins from the 4th-1st century BC, finally giving up and drinking chai and listening to our friends play Turkish music in the vendor's hut at the entrance of the ruins. When, on the way home my friend, Okan, saw some kids playing marbles on the side of the road, he brought the car to an abrupt stop, turned on the hazards, and joined them (and schooled them on the "real" way to play marbles).

I took it as a personal challenge to make sure Lisa had some excellent baklava before her departure. Needless to say, this took extensive and concentrated research.

Jordan and home again

Kirk and I had an interesting time in Jordan; unlike me, he is very easy to travel with. After spending one night in a particularly seedy hotel in Petra (although the second-hand smoke could be a perk for a smoker wanting to save money on cigarettes; also highly recommended for any lonely cockroaches looking for a meaningful relationship - Cleopetra hotel), Kirk suggested to me that we could possibly spend $10-20 more and stay at a hotel where we didn't have to use a protective layer between ourselves and the bedding, could walk barefoot without fear of disease, and hey, also have hot water.

The Dana Nature Reserve was dry, craggy, and beautiful. We stayed at a guest house run by a conservation society dedicated to maintaining wild places in Jordan while providing a way for the Bedouin people to remain on the land and make a living. On our hike in the reserve, we tracked the elusive white wolf that turned out to look rather like the elusive white dog, Next, on to the Dead Sea, where we wallowed in the mud and washed it off in the salty water. Kirk warned me not to put my head under, but of course, I have never been one to learn from other people's mistakes. On to Madaba where we saw an amazingly intact mosaic map of the Middle East that was created 1,500 years ago. We ate humus, baba ganoush, stuffed wheat balls, and tabouli salad that night at restaurant in Jordan where they actually had wine (hard to find in Jordan). On our last day we did a walking tour of Amman and found an English language bookstore where I stocked up on books and coffee. Kirk saw me off at the airport the next morning for my 4 a.m. flight back to Turkey.

The trip was exciting, but it feels good to be home again. Along with one invited house guest, my best friend Lisa, I also now have a number of uninvited house guests who took advantage of my absence to set up a little cockroach colony in my bathroom. Nothing 12 traps and a bottle of Raid won't handle. . .I hope.

In this post I have included my favorite pictures from my trip. Hope you enjoy them!

Update from Jordan

It has been a while since my last post. Shockingly, I have actually been in a part of the world where Internet is hard to come by.

After Luxor, the group took an overnight train back to Cairo. Beth had had her fill of Egypt and was feeling sick. Being in polluted, noisy Cairo again sealed her decision to leave, so she decided to skip the Sinai and fly back to Denver. I was sad to see her go, but I think she wouldn't have enjoyed the next 24 hours much. Luckily as she left, Kirk joined us in Cairo. Because she vacated a seat on our van, he was able to take it rather than arrange his own transportation to meet up with me later.

We departed Cairo the next morning for the 6 hour drive St. Catherine's monastary and Mt. Sinai. After we left the Nile and crossed under the Suez Canal, the landscape turned rocky, cold, and dry. We arrived at our destination around noon, ate, and began the climb to the summit where Moses was said to have received the ten commandments. Just before dusk we summited. The wind was whipping and cold; the clouds were moving impossibly fast over all the surrounding peaks. Although we had all of our layers on, we were still freezing. Luckily, in true Egyptian fashion, some entreprenuerial types had set up little coffee house shacks near the summit. We ducked in and had the best Nescafe ever with the Bedouins. As we warmed our hands over the coal fire, the man explained how he stays up on the mountain for 20 days at a time, and then stays down fro 20. It was so cold on the summit, the water in my bottle had turned to ice!

The next night was a horror for all on the trip; no one's heat worked in the rooms, and few people slept more than a few winks. When we left the next morning, the group had reached the 'tipping point' for tolerance of lack of comfort. Two hours later, we arrived at our next destination, Sawa Camp. This little rustic camp of straw huts on the beach seemed a perfect place to unwind; however, most of our group decided that they didn't want to risk another cold and sleepless night, so they took off for the nearby Marriott. Four of us stayed and had a marvelous time eating Bedouin food, snorkeling the reef during the day, and playing cards by the fire at night. After two days, the rest of the group returned to Cairo to fly back home, but Kirk and I continued on to Nuweiba where we crossed the Red Sea to the Jordanian port of Aquaba.

We arrived in Petra on Monday and were able to see our first glimpse of Petra by night. At 8:30 pm we started walking on a sandy path with huge boulders all around and cliffs towering in the distance. We would be walking about .6 miles to our destination, and the path was lit only by 1500 candles. The guides asked us not to use flashlights, and although the group was large, we walked in relative silence. As we entered the Siq, huge sandstone cliffs rose up around us. We continued on into the slot canyon; sometmes a ribbon of stars was visible overhead and sometimes the cliffs closed in, obscuring completely any view of the sky. We walked in this manner for nearly 30 minutes until the canyon opened suddenly to the Treasury, a tremendous building carved into the sandstone cliff over 2,000 years ago. Stunned, we sat in the candle strewn plaza and listened to Bedouin musicians as we sipped tea.

We spent the next two days hiking around the slot canyons exploring endless tombs and carvings. They are all equally stunning and tremendous, and one could spend a lifetime exploring the canyons; however, Kirk and I feel that we covered a good amount of ground in two full days.

Tomorrow we will head to the Dana nature preserve and then on to Madaba and the Dead Sea. We will end with early morning flights out of Amman on the 11th.

Aswan, Felucca

Beth woke up yesterday morning and asked me, "I got bit by something last night. Is my eye swollen?"

I looked over and her right eye was puffy Quasimoto style, "a little," I said trying to sound casual, wondering if anyone might have an epi kit available.

Beth had been having a tough 24 hours. We had come from Abu Simbel temple and boarded a boat in Aswan. 48 hours on a boat, no showers, sleeping bags. For me the fun and chance to see the Nile outweighed the discomfort of cold nights and no washing facilities; for Beth, who thinks "roughing it" means a shared jacuzzi, it was a bit more difficult. She read the beginning of her journal entry to the rest of us that day. It began, "Last night was hell. . . " However, I think she is getting in the swing of things. As we disembarked from the boat this morning she said, "If the hotel has hot water and no rats, I'll be in heaven."

We have convered a lot of ground in the last few days. We visited the pyramids just outside of Cairo. They were every bit as amazing as I thought. I went inside (under) one. The passage was about three feet wide and maybe three feet tall, 60 feet long, angling down, leading another small passage. As I went in, I had to control the feeling of claustorphobia that threatened to overtake me. The air got thicker as I decended to a small passage where I could stand upright. Tourists coming back up the same narrow passage way jostled me on their way back to fresh air. After about three minutes, I arrived in a big room that once held treasures but now is cavernously empty.

After the pyramids, we ate Kosheray, a great Egyptian dish of lentils, garlic, onions, pasta, pepper, tomato. . . and who knows what else. We left Cairo by overnight train and arrived in Aswan. We took a boat ride to the Sahara side of the Nile and unboarded amidst the Saharan sand and camels.

One camel was complaining loudly about his lot in life, mouth open, angrily. I made a mental note to give that camel a wide berth. Of course, this was my camel; I got on and leaned forward (I had been warned to do so or risk coming off as the camel going from sitting to standing can be a bit abrupt) My camel became much happier after his keeper got him up and handed me the reins. My camel strode to the front of the group where we led the procession to the Nubian village.

At the Nubian village we ate Nubian food and danced with the children afterwards, and proceeded home to rest up for the early wake up to fly to Abu Simbel the next morning. Abu Simbel was built by Ramses, one very prolific builder. He even took a bunch of temples in Thebes (present day Luxor) and stuck his statues in front, claiming them for his own. Pretty crafty.

The felucca (traditional sailboat) was a relaxing way to to enjoy the Nile. Our crew cooked great food for us, and we had some time to get to know our fellow travelers. Three Aussies, two Canadians, Beth, me, and our fearless leader, Mohammed (pictured sleeping on the deck).

We arrived in Luxor where we took a tour of the town and viewed the temple from afar. It has been cold, so three of us ducked into a store to look for sweaters and found the nicest strangers working in the store. The women there giggled and made us tea as we tried on the clothes. It was a welcome relief from the men who work the street stalls constantly clamoring for tourist attention, for us to come in to their stores, "just look". Although I understand that it is an obvious outcome of the mixing of relatively rich tourists in a poor country, it is still exhausting to have to brave the onslaught of people trying to sell us something day after day.

Tomorrow we ride donkeys to the west bank of Luxor where we visit the Valley of the Kings and the Valley of the Queens. Our leader has promised that the views will be fabulous. The next day we will visit the animal sanctuary and then take an overnight train back to Cairo. I know the sanctuary will be difficult; they don't have the luxury to treat animals the way we do, and the state of the animals here makes my heart ache.