This is a side track, but thinking about my trip down Baja got me reminising. All the people running away or getting away.
I had an affair with a guy for at least two of the three months I spent in Mexico, Guatemala, and Belize a year prior to my year long trip back through Central on to South American. Although I lived in San Francisco and Greg lived in San Diego he came up often to see me. We thought we might do this trip together. Well, he thought we might do this together, I wanted to go alone. I stupidly called him when I got to San Diego, where I was starting off. I got on a bus to Ensenada and when I got there he was waiting for me. Thank god, he forgot to bring much money so he had to turn around the next day. He was not happy.
After Greg left I hitched hiked getting a ride with another Californian guy. There was an empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the floor in front of me and he had another bottle between his legs. I was a little afraid until he told me he was in a hurry to catch up with his girlfriend who was somewhere in Mexico. Good I thought he's not interested in me. It wasn't until later that I decided his girlfriend wasn't interested in him and was trying to get away. Fortunately it wasn't long before he needed gas and I made an excuse to get out.
The following ride went smoothly. It was with a father and his son who both worked for some backpacking store. They took me to a hotel in Rosarita where I met and stayed with a woman and her young daugther to share expensives. She was running away from her husband.
My traveling is a form of escapism, but other people do it for real, too.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Amasya
Finally I am traveling. Again I'm lucky. Orhan, the pension manager of Ufuk, gave me a ride to Kaysiri an hour and a half away. He had to pick up some tourists at the airport so I saved bus fare. I was told in Goreme that the bus from Kaysiri only leaves at 3:30 pm and takes 8 hours from there to get to Amasya. If that was the case I would only go half way because I didn't want to arrive in the middle of the night. But in Kaysiri there was a bus that left at 1 pm. Orhan had dropped me off at 12:15 so this was perfect timing. And the bus took 7 hours. I was the only tourist. At one bus stop a student who spoke a little English asked me why I was going to Amasya. Why not?
Yes, why not? It's beautiful with the Ottoman homes lined along the river. The food is much cheaper here. Elsewhere entrees are over 15 trl. Here I got a huge platter of grilled lamb, with grilled abergine, tomatos, peppers, and garlic. I couldn't even make a dent.
It's an university town. I sat with some students along the river. A couple of them played guitars and a few others sang. Unlike the rest of Turkey so far not many spoke English and not very good. My Turkish is getting better. Well they say it is. Like the Spanish and unlike the French if you say a little they compliment you.
And I was lucky to observe a holiday today. As you can see from my pictures the young people were decked out in their costumes and dancing in a circle.
Last night I stumbled upon a Tom Jones Las Vegas type act with this guy in the tightest, glitterest outfit singing from table to table. The Turks were going wild. The men especially. I never seen such enthusiatic dancers.
Yes, why not? It's beautiful with the Ottoman homes lined along the river. The food is much cheaper here. Elsewhere entrees are over 15 trl. Here I got a huge platter of grilled lamb, with grilled abergine, tomatos, peppers, and garlic. I couldn't even make a dent.
It's an university town. I sat with some students along the river. A couple of them played guitars and a few others sang. Unlike the rest of Turkey so far not many spoke English and not very good. My Turkish is getting better. Well they say it is. Like the Spanish and unlike the French if you say a little they compliment you.
And I was lucky to observe a holiday today. As you can see from my pictures the young people were decked out in their costumes and dancing in a circle.
Last night I stumbled upon a Tom Jones Las Vegas type act with this guy in the tightest, glitterest outfit singing from table to table. The Turks were going wild. The men especially. I never seen such enthusiatic dancers.
Friday, May 29, 2009
George's House
I forgot to tell you about the second day at George's house. Since Halim and I took the coastal route we wanted to see what we missed by not taking the higher Lycia trail. We both thought this would be an easy day so we hiked up the to see the view we missed. It was nice but we were both glad we took the coastal route. As I said the coastal route was not easy because we would go down to the coast and up the mountain over and over.
So after seeing the view we went back to George's to get our swimsuits and then headed down to Butterfly Valley. This should be a breaze - Not! The climb was so steep there were ropes involved - four level of ropes. They recently put in new ropes because a German traveler fell and died last year. I loved it. I love climbing up more than down. It's easier going up, which of course, we had to do on the return. I didn't use the ropes at all then. I try not to use the ropes much because that's when it could be unsafe. Frailed ropes.
Down at the Butterfly Valley beach I swam. There are far better swimmers than me somewhere but I rarely see them. The water is my womb. I can go forever. I was lucky in Kusadasi a sweet beach boy, Ali Faut, who collected money for using lounge chairs lent me his goggles and then I could really go far.
That night after all the exercise I was very hungry. I was looking forward to George's dinner. I wish I had taken pictures of his spread. The first night there he must have had at least eight mezes. I thought that the next night would be more of the same, which would have been fine. No he had totally different ones. Unbelievably delicious!
I'm jumping ahead now to Amasya.
So after seeing the view we went back to George's to get our swimsuits and then headed down to Butterfly Valley. This should be a breaze - Not! The climb was so steep there were ropes involved - four level of ropes. They recently put in new ropes because a German traveler fell and died last year. I loved it. I love climbing up more than down. It's easier going up, which of course, we had to do on the return. I didn't use the ropes at all then. I try not to use the ropes much because that's when it could be unsafe. Frailed ropes.
Down at the Butterfly Valley beach I swam. There are far better swimmers than me somewhere but I rarely see them. The water is my womb. I can go forever. I was lucky in Kusadasi a sweet beach boy, Ali Faut, who collected money for using lounge chairs lent me his goggles and then I could really go far.
That night after all the exercise I was very hungry. I was looking forward to George's dinner. I wish I had taken pictures of his spread. The first night there he must have had at least eight mezes. I thought that the next night would be more of the same, which would have been fine. No he had totally different ones. Unbelievably delicious!
I'm jumping ahead now to Amasya.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Cappadocia
Remind me never to take an organized tour! I took one yesterday and I hate to be shuttle around with a bunch of people - most of whom I don't particularly like.
I didn't know if I was coming to Cappadocia. I missed it 11 years ago. Still I didn't make a decision until I got to Antalya, where I've been before. When I arrived at 5 pm from Fethiye I discovered that the bus to Goreme didn't leave until 9 pm and would take 10 hours. Maybe I'll fly to Van, I told myself. But I saw a fellow San Franciscan I'd met earlier and he was taking the night bus. I told him I was going to tag along. I'd save money by sleeping on the bus. Well, that has never happened - sleeping on an overnight bus. But this time I had two seats to myself and the row across from me where I put my feet. If the bus stewards, which all long distance Turkish buses have - you know like airline stewards - if they didn't keep moving my feet I could have slept great.
We got to Goreme so early the pension wasn't open, which BTW is called Ufuk. We walked around and looked at the hot air balloons floating in the air. When the pension opened we dropped our bags and because Yung was taking an organized tour I tagged along some more. We left at 9 am and didn't return until 6:30 pm. Every chance the tour operator had involved shopping. I didn't buy a thing and I've now seen enough iconic symbols to last me the rest of my life.
I would have left Goreme today but my clothes are so dirty. I have the wrong plug for the sink to wash them myself. My pension has to do it for me, so I went to the open air museam which is on the World Heritage site. It was jammed packed with tourists. I got claustrophobic. Let me out of here! I took a hike literally through the Red Valley and on through the Rose Valley. I loved it. I'll show pictures instead of descibing. I walked all the way to Cavusin, where I bargained down the cafe owner for some fresh orange juice. He gave it to me for a lira cheaper since I wasn't French. I was tired and didn't want to walk anymore so when I saw a guy loading some bikes in his car trunk I ask him for a ride. The cafe owner got a kick out of this. He told the guy to charge me 20 euros. We both were laughing.
This might be a good time to tell you, as you have probably guess, that I'm not going to Tajikistan. I found that it is really difficult as an independent traveller without a lot of paper work to go through Turmenistan and Ubekistan. I could care less about those countries since they are flat and no where to swim. I thought I could fly over them from Baku, Azerbaijan, but no I'd have to go back to Istanbul where the flight is an outrageous $1000.
That is why I took the detour to Greece. I still plan on going to Georgia, (where I plan on being within a week) Armenia, and Azerbaijan. I'm not finished with Tajikistan, but it won't be this trip.
I didn't know if I was coming to Cappadocia. I missed it 11 years ago. Still I didn't make a decision until I got to Antalya, where I've been before. When I arrived at 5 pm from Fethiye I discovered that the bus to Goreme didn't leave until 9 pm and would take 10 hours. Maybe I'll fly to Van, I told myself. But I saw a fellow San Franciscan I'd met earlier and he was taking the night bus. I told him I was going to tag along. I'd save money by sleeping on the bus. Well, that has never happened - sleeping on an overnight bus. But this time I had two seats to myself and the row across from me where I put my feet. If the bus stewards, which all long distance Turkish buses have - you know like airline stewards - if they didn't keep moving my feet I could have slept great.
We got to Goreme so early the pension wasn't open, which BTW is called Ufuk. We walked around and looked at the hot air balloons floating in the air. When the pension opened we dropped our bags and because Yung was taking an organized tour I tagged along some more. We left at 9 am and didn't return until 6:30 pm. Every chance the tour operator had involved shopping. I didn't buy a thing and I've now seen enough iconic symbols to last me the rest of my life.
I would have left Goreme today but my clothes are so dirty. I have the wrong plug for the sink to wash them myself. My pension has to do it for me, so I went to the open air museam which is on the World Heritage site. It was jammed packed with tourists. I got claustrophobic. Let me out of here! I took a hike literally through the Red Valley and on through the Rose Valley. I loved it. I'll show pictures instead of descibing. I walked all the way to Cavusin, where I bargained down the cafe owner for some fresh orange juice. He gave it to me for a lira cheaper since I wasn't French. I was tired and didn't want to walk anymore so when I saw a guy loading some bikes in his car trunk I ask him for a ride. The cafe owner got a kick out of this. He told the guy to charge me 20 euros. We both were laughing.
This might be a good time to tell you, as you have probably guess, that I'm not going to Tajikistan. I found that it is really difficult as an independent traveller without a lot of paper work to go through Turmenistan and Ubekistan. I could care less about those countries since they are flat and no where to swim. I thought I could fly over them from Baku, Azerbaijan, but no I'd have to go back to Istanbul where the flight is an outrageous $1000.
That is why I took the detour to Greece. I still plan on going to Georgia, (where I plan on being within a week) Armenia, and Azerbaijan. I'm not finished with Tajikistan, but it won't be this trip.
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Charmed Life
I've been told I have a charmed life. After five wonderful nights with Emino, who meant so much more to me than my first little fling with scooter boy, I wondered about my charmed life. Emino says, " Are you sure you want to leave?" "No, I don't to leave at all but that's what I do."
I'm miserable in Fethiye. It's a beautiful setting but it's raining just like it was 11 years ago when I was here. I miss Emino and I'm far far behind schedule. I wanted to do a trek in the mountains behind Fethiye, but now I'm glad the weather is bad so I can move on quickly. Unfortunately, Tuna, the owner of Fehar Pension, tells me the weather will be good tomorrow and another traveler wants to do the same trek. Of course having someone else help nogotiate the way would be nice. But I have doubts about whether either will be true.
My dorm room has the most fabulous view, I think it must be the best in Fethiye. The mountainous inclosed bay is filled with sail boats, the island of Rhodes in the background, the red shale roofs of the homes below. When I wake up the sky is blue. Oh no a bad sign. Then I go to breakfast and I meet the other traveler who wants to go. Halim is Turkish but is an economics professor in New York. He already has the logistics of how to get to the trail head. I have to go.
Having Halim with me is like having a free guide. We're going to walk the Lycia trail, but on the dolmas to Kabak we meet Maria, a Spanish -Basque girl and whe convinces us to take the coastal route. She has done both and she says the coastal route is more spectacular and there are places to swim unlike the the higher Lycia way. That's all she had to say - swim. Halim agrees too and with her directions we go that way.
The trek is not easy even though we take the coastal route, because we go down to the coast then up the mountain over and over again. The higher but more level Lycia way would have been less difficult. It was worth it. Later as Halim and I are swimming in our own private cove we both said, "Pinch me, this must be heaven."
Heaven wasn't over yet though. We hiked to George's House. For 30 trl (less than $20) you get a room, breakfast and dinner - all organic, vegetarian and comes from George's garden or other local farmers - slow food, local food and absolutely fabulous. Why would anyone stay in a Marriot, but I'm glad they do. I don't want them here. Plus view of waterfalls, mountains surrounding us, the deep blue beautiful ocean below. Pinch me! More tomorrow more excitement.
I'm miserable in Fethiye. It's a beautiful setting but it's raining just like it was 11 years ago when I was here. I miss Emino and I'm far far behind schedule. I wanted to do a trek in the mountains behind Fethiye, but now I'm glad the weather is bad so I can move on quickly. Unfortunately, Tuna, the owner of Fehar Pension, tells me the weather will be good tomorrow and another traveler wants to do the same trek. Of course having someone else help nogotiate the way would be nice. But I have doubts about whether either will be true.
My dorm room has the most fabulous view, I think it must be the best in Fethiye. The mountainous inclosed bay is filled with sail boats, the island of Rhodes in the background, the red shale roofs of the homes below. When I wake up the sky is blue. Oh no a bad sign. Then I go to breakfast and I meet the other traveler who wants to go. Halim is Turkish but is an economics professor in New York. He already has the logistics of how to get to the trail head. I have to go.
Having Halim with me is like having a free guide. We're going to walk the Lycia trail, but on the dolmas to Kabak we meet Maria, a Spanish -Basque girl and whe convinces us to take the coastal route. She has done both and she says the coastal route is more spectacular and there are places to swim unlike the the higher Lycia way. That's all she had to say - swim. Halim agrees too and with her directions we go that way.
The trek is not easy even though we take the coastal route, because we go down to the coast then up the mountain over and over again. The higher but more level Lycia way would have been less difficult. It was worth it. Later as Halim and I are swimming in our own private cove we both said, "Pinch me, this must be heaven."
Heaven wasn't over yet though. We hiked to George's House. For 30 trl (less than $20) you get a room, breakfast and dinner - all organic, vegetarian and comes from George's garden or other local farmers - slow food, local food and absolutely fabulous. Why would anyone stay in a Marriot, but I'm glad they do. I don't want them here. Plus view of waterfalls, mountains surrounding us, the deep blue beautiful ocean below. Pinch me! More tomorrow more excitement.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Haircuts
I got my hair cut and dyed in Kusadasi. I've only had my hair dyed professionally once before, although I have dyed my hair myself since I was 15 yrs old. This is the darkest my hair has ever been. I love the cut and the color but it was a little shocking looking at myself at first.
I had great treatment. There were four people working on me. I was given a beer, cigarettes and gum. I actually had a pedicure too. One girl for each foot. Both of the girls were darling. While I was getting the pedicure another cute young guy dyed my hair. Since this was only the second time I've had my hair dyed for me I can't say how it's normally done. This guy was thorough. It was all very relaxing. Then a different good looking young guy, Fetih, cut my hair so quickly I didn't think he could possibly do a very good job. Like I said I loved it.
This got me thinking about all the times I've had my hair cut in a foreign country. In Costa Rica I was having an affair with a Swiss guy. He cut my hair for me. At the time I thought I would marry him. He was an international lawyer. He came to San Francisco to see me and take a language class. He got on my nerves immediately. My brother, Jonathan, had to entertain him because I didn't want to be around him. Affairs are better left in the original country.
After that I had my hair cut in Rio de Janero. I was finally getting my Spanish down when I got to Brazil. I didn't know a word although some words are similar to Spanish. I wanted my hair cut short, but what I got was a crew cut - seriously. I could run my fingers through my hair and feel the tops of them.
I had it cut in Indonesia by a barber on the street. But what I really remember was having it cut in India by a barber. For $ .60 at the time not only did you get your hair cut but you also got a head massage and your neck cracked. I felt like it was the first time I could really breath. During a four month period I had it cut two more times in India just for neck cracking. Obviously I came back with short hair again.
In Spain I told the hairdresser I wanted my hair cut like Penelope Cruz. He was so nervous his hands were shaking but he also did a great job, even if my hair was only medium length and couldn't possible look like Penelope Cruz.
Many of you know that I love my hair cut so much from this guy in Zagreb, Croatia that I went back to same guy two years later. He dyed my hair for free he was so flattered but I don't remember him being so thorough. Still it looked good.
So I left Emin. Another tear jerker. Why do I put myself through this? At least it going to make me move faster. I want to get as faraway as possible because I'm afraid I'll turn around
I had great treatment. There were four people working on me. I was given a beer, cigarettes and gum. I actually had a pedicure too. One girl for each foot. Both of the girls were darling. While I was getting the pedicure another cute young guy dyed my hair. Since this was only the second time I've had my hair dyed for me I can't say how it's normally done. This guy was thorough. It was all very relaxing. Then a different good looking young guy, Fetih, cut my hair so quickly I didn't think he could possibly do a very good job. Like I said I loved it.
This got me thinking about all the times I've had my hair cut in a foreign country. In Costa Rica I was having an affair with a Swiss guy. He cut my hair for me. At the time I thought I would marry him. He was an international lawyer. He came to San Francisco to see me and take a language class. He got on my nerves immediately. My brother, Jonathan, had to entertain him because I didn't want to be around him. Affairs are better left in the original country.
After that I had my hair cut in Rio de Janero. I was finally getting my Spanish down when I got to Brazil. I didn't know a word although some words are similar to Spanish. I wanted my hair cut short, but what I got was a crew cut - seriously. I could run my fingers through my hair and feel the tops of them.
I had it cut in Indonesia by a barber on the street. But what I really remember was having it cut in India by a barber. For $ .60 at the time not only did you get your hair cut but you also got a head massage and your neck cracked. I felt like it was the first time I could really breath. During a four month period I had it cut two more times in India just for neck cracking. Obviously I came back with short hair again.
In Spain I told the hairdresser I wanted my hair cut like Penelope Cruz. He was so nervous his hands were shaking but he also did a great job, even if my hair was only medium length and couldn't possible look like Penelope Cruz.
Many of you know that I love my hair cut so much from this guy in Zagreb, Croatia that I went back to same guy two years later. He dyed my hair for free he was so flattered but I don't remember him being so thorough. Still it looked good.
So I left Emin. Another tear jerker. Why do I put myself through this? At least it going to make me move faster. I want to get as faraway as possible because I'm afraid I'll turn around
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Kurds
Emin is only 28 yrs old. His birthday was yesterday. Boy, I'm really robbing the cradle, but he's very mature for his age. He owns his own home: Ottoman style with dark wood, inlaid molding like many places in San Francisco, Turkish carpets and a roof with a view. He has a tea shop business in Kusadasi and a T-shirt shop in Van, and he plans to have his own carpet store soon. He's traveled to Indonesia, Cambodia, and China. Unfortunately, he's been to Iran and because of this he can't come to the U. S. yet. He's still trying.
I'm telling this because he's had a hard life being a Kurd. His family had 4000 sheep, they were doing well and the Turkish government took it all away. They went back to their farm later and tried to start again only to have the Turkish government confiscate their belonging once more. His father went to prison several times and was tortured. His two uncles disappeared - obviously murdered. All this happened in the 90's.
Like I said before the Kurds still have limited rights.
I'm telling this because he's had a hard life being a Kurd. His family had 4000 sheep, they were doing well and the Turkish government took it all away. They went back to their farm later and tried to start again only to have the Turkish government confiscate their belonging once more. His father went to prison several times and was tortured. His two uncles disappeared - obviously murdered. All this happened in the 90's.
Like I said before the Kurds still have limited rights.
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