Saturday, May 5, 2012

travel fever

travel fever


I wrote this in October 2008, describing my dream to go to Dogubeyazit.
Three years later I went, in September 2011! I will tell you about that shortly, for now, please dream along with me reading that old blog post of mine when visiting Ishak Pasha Sarayi was still a far away dream, and a wallpaper photo on my desktop....

   Wed, October 1, 2008 - 9:48 AM
In German there is a word, "Fernweh", which can be translated as the longing to be far away...This is my affliction. Being back from Turkey I have done nothing but dream of my next trip... On this 4th trip I achieved one part of my agenda- doing plenty of dancing to my heart's content, and nobody stopping me. Being safe. Feeling at home. In fact, being mistaken for a Turk, which is more than I bargained for! Speaking enough Turkish to get aound and communicating with people who speak no English at all.
And now... here comes the next part of my dream-
I still want to go to Dogubeyazit. That place has never left my mind. Way out in Eastern Anatolia, next to Mount Ararat, on the border to Armenia, it is close to Ishak Pasha Sarayi, an ancient Oriental palace. Apparently, the only other Ottoman palace left over beside Topkapi. But this one is a mix of Ottoman, Selcuk, Georgian, Armenian and Persian architecture. And it is Kurdish. Today I watched a number of youtube videos showing it, and they all had these simple but powerful, passionate but wistful Kurdish songs. Melodies that Aynur has sung and others too, full of longing...
I keep thinking, I saw this palace in the Gurdjieff movie "Meetings with remarkable men", as the site of the Sufi dances. And when I read up on it, yes, Gurdjieff indeed was born in the city of Kars (the home of the exotic, black eyed Kurd I described in my blog on Bodrum) which is quite close to Dogubeyazit. but it says, the movie was made in Afghanistan... which is where the Kurds originally came from, it seems.
It is also the place where supposivley Noah's ark stranded and near Dogubeyazit is "Noah's ark national park".
Anyway, already almost two years ago my computer had a wallpaper of Ishak Pasha palace... and I keep dreaming.
I found a tour leading up to it, with a guide, offered on the internet, and it says, you can get there on a bus from Istanbul, in 22 hours, and cross the landscape of spectacular Turkish mountains... which is just what I would love to do. Rather than miss all this and fly out there by plane. I want the feeling of travelling, of drifting, of being out on an adventure, of satisfying the gypsy urges in my blood...
Now that I speak some Turkish and have lost my fear of traveling alone, maybe all I need to do is learn how to neatly tie a headscarf, just in case. I already got all the vaccinations for Kurdistan two years ago, Hepatitis A and B and tetanus and diphteria and typhoid, and then we only got as far as Antalya and the Turks begged me not to go any further East because "nobody goes to those places". But I still want to...

That moment...

That moment...

   Thu, September 25, 2008 - 12:15 PM
Today I heard: "When you feel lost think of a moment when you were deeply happy."
The memory that came to me was of that moment on that ship in Turkey when I was looking up into the starry sky, alone and feeling utterly free. I had just let go and felt ready to just go with the flow, uncertain and yet secure, being all alone in an unknown place and yet feeling so at home, looking up into the night sky, so wide, so far, so open, and my being expanded and unfolded, I opened my arms and raised them towards the stars and deeply inhaled the night air. And I felt happy.
This feeling has stayed with me, like a sense of inner warmth, like a newfound key.

Bodrum nights

Bodrum nights

   Mon, September 15, 2008 - 11:01 AM
 
As many people know, Bodrum's night life is notorious. I have heard more than one tour guide say:"When I am in Bodrum, I sit up by the pool bar of the hotel until 5am every night and wait until all the girls from my tour group are safely back in their hotel rooms...
Now, as I did not do anything really "bad" in Bodrum, I did go out and have fun. In day time, I would walk down to the sunny yacht harbour in the morning after breakfast and buy a ticket for a boat tour, and then spend all my day driving around on the Aegeis in dazzling sunshine, lying on the deck until I was deeply tanned, and when the boat stopped in yet another bay with blue and turquoise water, I would climb down that little ladder on the side of the boat and throw myself into the sea.
One time we stopped at "Cleopatra's mud bath". "Where is the mud??" I exclaimed, after downing a cocktail of vodka and pomegranate juice in the pier bar, and people pointed at the entrance of a cave in the rocks next to the wooden platform I was on. I lowered myself into the water, swam and crawled into the semi darkness of the grotto with some other swimmers, and there we scooped the mud and sand off the rocks and smeared each other with it laughing, until our skin was all smooth and glowing and it did do some job on your beauty, just like they said on the sign board: "Cleopatra's legendary beauty may have been due to her visiting this mud bath..."
The guys who had handed me the mud and rubbed my back with it then invited me to join them in their corner of the deck and we spent the rest of the tour lined up next to each other on the sun mats and sharing the ear phones of my i-pod. I was invited to go out together later by my ear phone-partner but declined as something else happened...
That night I went to a nice restaurant I had received directions to by my hotel manager as he was friends with the owner. I had dinner on a terrace over the sea, looking out into the dusk by candlelight. After a while I noticed an extraordinarily handsome waiter, very black hair, very black eyes, sharply curved eye brows, chiselled nose, long legs, a lean tall body, the exotic almost Arabic features of a Kurd...I kept watching him surreptitiously as I found him stunningly handsome. He must have noticed the way I looked at him, as after a while, after entertaining me like everyone else with bits of small talk, he came over again and asked me to come back in two hours when he would be finishing work. I answered his invitation with "Inshallah", which made him start with surprise, turn his head and shoot me an inquisitive look. Inshallah (Arabic for "With Allah's will") is a sure fire way of saying "maybe", a way of declining or dodging an invitation that no Moslem will argue with, and which is never answered with more questions and attempts at persuasion like any other answer might be.
However, less than two hours later I was walking down bar street again, this time to check out what else was going on there, I had not made up my mind about that invitation, and there he was, standing in the door of his restaurant to beckon people to come in. He spotted me and immediately talked me into coming inside for another drink. "Over there is a table especially reserved for you" he said, and pointed into the direction of a corner right by the sea. I was pretty sure that this is where he puts all his prospective dates and that all the other waiters knew that, too. Then he sat down and asked me whether I was alone or attached. "That is good because I am alone too", he said, and I thought to myself, that must he must be lying through his teeth, there is no way a man like that can go unattached for more than a few days... Well, I had not been completely honest myself, but thus, the game was on...
When all the guests had left, he came over, offered me another drink and started to flirt with me, in a kind of speeded up way. "Don't look at me like that", he said after a while, "You make me hot." I wondered whether this was due to me wearing my Arabic style black eyeliner belly dancer make up that he, as a Kurd, was reacting to? I stared back into his eyes and said slowly:"Your eyes are soo black..." He answered that I was embarrassing him, turned his head to the side and looked like he was almost going to blush. Haha, I still manage to make a man blush sometimes, even this wild looking exotic Kurd, I thought...Maybe he was not used to women flirting back in that way? Or felt caught in this whole staged scenario? Whatever, when he asked me to go out with him, I told him, that the owner of my hotel knew the owner of his restaurant, that the staff in my hotel had been carefully observing me all these days and I did not want people to start talking about me as I knew what they were thinking and did not like it. So, when we were ready to go, he said:"If you are worried about what people think, just follow me..." He instructed me to leave the restaurant before him, walk down the street for a while and wait there... I did, stopped at some store 200m down the street to buy cigarettes , and 5 minutes later, suddenly there he was. He told me to follow him quietly, and walked ahead, with me trailing about 3-5 meters behind, and thus, we walked off into the darkness to where noone could find us...; )
When I told this story to Özlem, the painter in Galatasaray on my way back in Istanbul, she laughed and said:"You were acting just like a Turkish girl!" "Why, is that how they do it?" "Yes", she said, "that is exactly the way they do it." ; )

Bodruma geldım- On the nıght bus to Bodrum

Bodruma geldım- On the nıght bus to Bodrum

   Wed, September 3, 2008 - 5:37 AM
 
Last nıght I took the Pamukkale bus for a 12 hour night rıde to Bodrum, on the Southern Aegean coast.
After sıttıng on the bus for a whıle, I checked my mobıle emaıl after never lookıng at ıt for days and found that my frıend ın Bodrum had let me down. ''I am not here anymore'', ıt saıd. Now, ınterestıngly, ınstead of feelıng sad and lonely, I got off the bus when ıt was parked on a car ferry crossıng some bay ın the Izmır area , I suppose, opened my arms, looked up ınto the dark starry nıght sky and felt utterly free, a sense of total freedom, beıng alone and yet, feelıng totally safe and at ease. So here I was, somewhere ın the mıddle of Turkey, alone, and now free to go anywhere I want. Shall I go to Konya and see Rumı's grave? Or maybe to Cappadokıa to see that fantastıc mountaınous landscape and those mystıcal caves agaın? Or cruıse over to Fethıye to hang out at the beautıful yacht harbour? Or maybe even Marmarıs, that notorıous rockıng pıcturesque tourıst trap I have never vısıted yet? No, not Marmarıs. Anyway, for the fırst tıme ın years, I felt lıke a genuıne traveller agaın, except that I am shleppıng a rıdıculous amount of overweıght luggage around Turkey ınsıde a fancy suıtcase wıth wheels ınstead of that backpack I used to carry on my trıps around Europe whenI was ın my teens.
So, at 10am I arrıved ın Bodrum after a nıght curled up as small as possıble on two bus seats dozıng ın and out of sleep. Now I have a lıttle room (''smallısh'' ındeed, just lıke Lonely planet saıd) wıth 3 hammocks ın the yard ın front of my wındow, and a cafe ın front wıth a roof of green leaves, and all thıs very cheap too. The people are helpful, and ıt took only 10 mınutes tıl the waıter offered to take me to the gyspy bar tonıght I want to go to.
However, after he bragged about all the languages he speaks, I asked hım whether he speaks Kurdısh too and he got upset and told me, he ıs a natıonalıst, so I have my doubts whether our ''date'' ıs stıll on, because I would not talk to hım anymore after that and he notıced. Oh well, ıt won't take long to fınd many other frıends here, I am sure.
And by the way, yesterday I was waıtıng at a bus stop ın Taksım wearıng my gypsy skırt and a Turksıh woman and her son told me, these were 'etnık' clothes and asked me:''Türkmüsünüz?''- Are you a Turk? Agaın ! Thıs was number 7 now. ; ) No, I am not a Turk but I do seem to look lıke one to many of them. And I have managed to get by on my lıttle bıts of Turkısh for the last couple of days, I am surprısed.

İstanbuldayım!

İstanbuldayım!

   Mon, August 25, 2008 - 11:47 AM
İ am in İstanbul! I love it here, and at last seem to have found a way to enjoy Turkey wıthout any hastle. İ got a room in an artist's house, a nıce Turkish lady who put me up on her sofa tıl her other guests are leavıng tomorrow. İ am staying in the area where all the Turks hang out and not so many tourısts, so now I can walk around and just be one of them, noone ıs tryıng to sell me flying carpets or anything of the kınd because thıs ıs nowhere near Topkapı palace etc. I have already made frıends wıth the nıce old man at the tea shop around the corner who lets me use hıs hıs computer and trıes to explain the cryptic messages on my cellphone to me of whıch I don't understand a word neıther of what he says nor of the messages but I know ıt just means my number has been actıvated and I can call anyone I want now. Other than that we are talkıng and I use what bıts of Turksıh I have at hand and ıt works, more or less. Walkıng down Istıklal at dusk was great, so colourful, all the bustle, people havıng tea and the sounds of the backgammon boards everywhere. I love explorıng all the lıttle alleyways off the maın street where vegetable sellers are next to cafes and lıve houses and nargile are waıtıng on the staırs behınd the tables to be smoked later. Walking around wıth a body shop bag and a pound of nectarınes makes me feel so ordınary and at home, so dıfferent from the resorts where men were constantly beckonıng me ınto theır shops, where I have to answer questıons every other mınute about where I am from, what ıs my name, etcetcetc and everyone ıs just out to make a buck of some forlorn tourıst lıke me. ; )
Already set up appoıntments to see the Romanı dancers and musıcıans, and to vısıt S. at her house.
Last nıght I dıd not sleep, had to spend the nıght waıtıng to check in at 5am for my cheap flıght at an ungodly hour but too excıted to go to my sofa just yet.
Now I wıll have to drınk my 5th glass of tea and then maybe I really should go home, say hello to Mılky the cat and get some sleep

Homesick for the distance


There are places in the world that make you feel more homesick than ever when you return home, leaving you restless and dreaming of getting away to see them again, to find peace- like a lover that left too soon in the morning after a night of love and leaves you longing for his embrace. Turkey is one of them, Syria another....
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Home

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

A Jordanian desert tour- Wadi Rum


Photos of a Jordanian desert tour

If you want to see something truly spectacular: here are my photos of Wadi Rum. The desert that was crossed by Lawrence of Arabia and Omar Sharif.
222 photos from Wadi Rum nature preserve in the desert https://picasaweb.google.com/113264861998536374583/WadiRumInJordanSSouth#

Sat, September 18, 2010

In the South of Jordan- Petra

The flight from Amman to Aqaba, the drive from Aqaba to Wadi Musa, and then: PETRA, one of the seven world wonders and a World Heritage Site. Enjoy, Petra is amazing, even if somewhat spoiled by tourism and greedy locals.
See my album of 99 photos from Petra, one of the 7 World Wonders
https://picasaweb.google.com/113264861998536374583/Jordan#

The reason why....

...I never went to see Lattakia but returned to Palmyra for another two days after Aleppo.
I found it very easy to adapt to their simple life style, it is like returning to an older, more natural state of being.

Aleppo and around

New photos from Aleppo and the surrounding area. More coming up tomorrow when the souk opens again after Eit, so stay tuned...
On the photo above you see St. Simeon/Qala'at Samman, the ruined basilica noth of Aleppo.

https://picasaweb.google.com/113264861998536374583/AleppoAndAround#

In Palmyra meeting the bedouins

Ended up staying three days in Palmyra, the desert town, instead of one, and half promised to some friends there to cancel half of my stay in Aleppo and come back there instead. Tonight they are having a big party for Eit al Fitr there. The muezzeen went on for an hour this morning after sunrise, with a whole chorus of people shouting "Allah akbar", "God is great", again and again. The end of Ramadan.
Later went with another bedouin friend into the desert on his motorbike, we climbed up to the top niche of a tomb with a great desert view, and danced in there together to bedouin music from his mobile phone. I almost shouted with delight, so much fun. Then he took me to his father's garden and picked me a few pomegranates and dates and gave me an olive twig for farewell presents. Then Baasil called me on my mobile because he knew I was leaving an hour later, and came to my hotel to say goodbye. When I arrived in the hotel lobby, he stood there, no longer in desert coloured jeans and tight shirt and green kefiyeh, but dressed up in an immaculate gleaming white dishdasha, with a cleanly wrapped shiny white kefiyeh, smiling his silent smile." Wow!" I said:"I tried to take your picture, but my camera broke, you are too beautiful for my camera!" It took me ten minutes to get it to work again, with new batteries from the store across the street, lots of fiddling with a pair of tweezers, plying the jammed lid for the battery case, but finally....
https://picasaweb.google.com/113264861998536374583/Palmyra?authkey=Gv1sRgCNbe_LyG8f2_9QE#

In Aleppo now, feeling like someone who ended up alone at Christmas, as everyone is celebrating Eit al Fitr with their families, even all the hotel staff is gone back to their villages, except one at the reception.
Fri, September 10, 2010 - 1:11 PM

Crossing the border back into Syria... on to Homs and Hama

Crossing the border back into Syria...

Sitting on the bus to Homs. This is a complete disaster and I regret that I did not take a service taxi. Felt like we spent almost an hour sitting around in the grubbiest part of the city, with more and more grubby, poor people getting on the bus and I had no idea when we were finally gonna depart and was unable to ask too as nobody spoke English. Now we are on the road and I sure am glad that I did not put Tripoli on my itinerary, oof!
I left Byblos this morning, after leaving a considerable sum of money there and am now looking forward to inexpensive Syria.
Bcharre was nice though a bit lonely as I felt like I was almost the only tourist in town. Met one other traveler who was staying in the room next to me in the Bauhaus pension. 30$ for a triple room with extra beds I did not need, and no service whatsoever, not even breakfast. Tony calls this "chalet style". I always thought, chalets were cottages...Well, it did have a communal kitchen that nobody seemed to use...
Here are my photos of Les Cedars and Bcharre in the beautiful Qadija valley which is the birth place of Khalil Gibran, the greatest of all poets... https://picasaweb.google.com/113264861998536374583/BcharreByblosBeiteddine# The image shows the hugging cedars in Les Cedars, Northern Lebanon

-------------------- In Hama now--------------------------------------------------------

One guy who looked like in a daze, with a bandage around his head and half covering one black swollen eye and an envelope with x-ray pics under his arm, got on the bus. When he kicked his suitcase down the aisle I felt scared because I thought, he acquired this injury in a recent fist fight. But maybe he was just too dizzy to bend over and pick up his luggage. Then a couple of young wives in headscarves, traveling with little kids. At the Syrian border they made me go in and finish my entry formalities and when I came back out, I could not find the bus and wondered if they had conspired to drive off with my suitcase and my rucksack with the netbook in it...After asking around, being pointed to a wrong bus full of strangers, I finally found it 100-200meters away around the corner, waiting. Then they dropped me by the side of the highway after whispering with the driver, and told me to get into a big yellow car there (a taxi without a sign??). The taxi driver again did not speak a word of English, and did not even know his way around in Homs, could not find my hotel that I asked him for. When he finally found it, he started carrying my suitcase up the staircase in a dilapidated old building with broken windows, in a dusty area of town, and I shouted, with the bits of Arabic I am capable of , thank God, from downstairs:"La, la!! La uhibbu!!" ('No,no, I don't like it!'), and told him to take me to a bank, so I could get some Syrian money, and then to the bus stop out of town with the buses going to the next city. He did, but he ripped me off- charged me 1000 Syrian pounds (about 16 $?) when for short taxi rides inside the city they charge only 50 pounds...
So when I got to Hama, and here they spoke English, were exceedingly helpful and moreover cheap (900 pounds for a room with shower and air con), I was so relieved...
Tomorrow I am off to the desert, to see Palmyra and meet the bedouins. = )
Mon, September 6, 2010 - 1:23 PM

On to Baalbek through Hezbollah country...and the art of riding Lebanese buses

Today I asked my way through to the bus to Baalbek from Zahle. First rejecting the taxi drivers, then asking several people, finally I talked to two women in Arabic and they stopped a taxi for me and told him to take me to the right bus stop down the road where the crossing is. Then I rode up the Bekaa valley, past a few soldiers, even saw a black tank parked by the road, until I arrived in Baalbek. There I had some coffee and hummus in a cafe, then asked the waiter for help and he took me to the entrance to the ruins and helped me hire a guide. And this is the result of an hour in the blazing sunshine, visiting the ancient temple of Bacchus where orgies have been celebrated, and seeing the temple of Jupiter and the sculpture of Cleopatra with the snake at her breast after she killed herself...The temples are gigantic, columns like 8 meters tall, towering over the valley..Baalbek is the highest point, the
Orontes and the Litani river both spring from here, flowing in opposite directions. On the way back I sat next to a young soldier in battle fatigues on the mini bus, and the two young men in front of me flashed me a photo of the Hezbollah chief with a grin on their faces. As the bus was driving down the bumpy road, Arabic music was playing loudly in the radio, in the familiar bellydance rhythm. Then we passed through a town where all the women were wearing hijab and I managed to form a question in Arabic and asked the girl next to me:"Ma ismu hadha madeena?"-what is the name of this town? "Ali Nakhle", she told me. I guess, anything starting with Ali means the people living there are Shia. We drove on, music playing, and tell you what: I got a kick out of this! The thrill of driving through a place that is very close to a territory where the embassies tell you not to enter, not knowing exactly where we were, feeling free and enjoying the smell of adventure. Yes, I noticed that the key to safe travel is speaking some Arabic and befriending the local people, accepting their friendly assistance whenever needed.

see my great photo album with 77 photos of Baalbek temples: https://picasaweb.google.com/113264861998536374583/BaalbekLebanonInTheBekaaValley#

Marhaban min Lubnan!- In Zahle, Lebanon, in the Bekaa valley

Marhaban min Lubnan!

   Tue, August 31, 2010 - 10:22 AM
Guys, I am in Lebanon!
I feel like, if you combined a town in the Black Forest or Tirol with a place in the Mediterranean, like Italy, you'd get this look here....
I also got a little adventurous and took out the golden Arabic metal applicator I bought on the Damascus souk yesterday and put on Arabic khol eyeliner with it. It worked and did not hurt. Yay! I can wear my strappy tops and dresses again, no longer walking around in billowing clothes and an occasional head scarf. ; )
Now I will stroll down to the river in Zahle and look for a nice open air restaurant to have dinner.

In Damascus at last- Fallen in love with Al Sham!

Fallen in love with Al Sham!

My second night in Damascus. I returned after less than a week in Germany and again, even more so, it was somehow like coming home... My hotel is 400 years old and my room is up two narrow stone stairs which probably carry the foot prints of many, many generations of Damascene Arabs followed by many backpacker travellers, I sleep in a large heavy wooden bed in a small room with thick old walls, filled with pieces of antique Arabic furniture.
Tonight I ventured out into the souk again, this time I was almost ablle to find my way among the winding alleys, around the famous mosque, past countless shops selling bellydance costumes, fashionable hijab scarves, spices, perfumes, dried fruit, pastries, appliances...I already started to doubt whether the information I got from a fellow female traveler who works here as an intern, that "there are many places that say 'restaurant/cafe'" might actually be something like 'mataam wa kafwa" written in Arabic that I missed when I finally managed to discover where the alley with the restaurants was. Had dinner at "Bait al Shami", another old Arabic house with a large courtyard where dinner was served under a lemon tree and trellises of dangling grapes. I had my first glass of mulberry juice ever, and watercress salad which turned out to be chopped ruccola, perfectly fine with me, and "Shami kabop"/ Damascene kebab which was great.
Again I spent most of the evening communicating with my bits of recently acquired Arabic, and still don't know whether people actually speak English here as I have been told they would. I am so happpy, every time I manage to form another sentence from my Arabic vocabulary. And they do understand, yay! Nobody tries to switch to English when I do that. ; )
Then I picked my way back between the carts of nuts, little shops full of perfume flasks, raising my arms in mock despair at the car stuck and trying to move between the stone walls, pedestrians and carts of merchandise, exchanging smiles with a couple Arabic women in hijab. Walking home, feeling happy, and deeply inhaling the mixture of fragrances emanating from the shops, a heady blend of spices, perfumes, soap and waterpipe tobacco, and relaxing into my ancient surroundings, feeling part of it and very much at home. I am in love with this city, Al Shams/Damascus is called the oldest city in the world!
see 62 photos of Damascus and a bit of Zahle https://picasaweb.google.com/113264861998536374583/SYRIAANDLEBANON#
Sun, August 29, 2010 - 3:09 PM