Mouse and Marmot

Travel Quote: The Aesthetic of Lostness - Bradbury

Travel Quote: Sitting - Allen

Travel Quote: A New Way Of Seeing - Miller

Travel Quote: Do Not Follow - Emerson

2011: Christmas Letter

This year has been filled with celebrations, traveling & happiness.  As we look back on everything that has happened it feels like two years. You can click on any of the pictures in this letter to see them larger or to see more from that event. 

Celebrations:

Grammy Dorothy turned 90 this year and had a big bash to celebrate. I crashed the party as a surprise. 

Grammy Jean turned 80 in the spring and we had a surprise party for her in Missouri that somehow managed to stay a surprise. 

On June 1st I did a solo performance as part of my Master's thesis project. I took a class to help me learn to develop and present it. Everyone in the class developed a piece and we did them as a showcase for a live audience. It was a thrilling experience during which I learned a lot. 

On June 12th I graduated with my Master's degree in Organization Systems Renewal with a focus on Developing Intercultural Competence Through Storytelling. It was a bittersweet weekend, celebrating two years of hard work and moving away from seeing my classmates every month - they have become a very important community for me. Two of my cousins graduated the same day - one from high school and one from college. 

The biggest thing we are celebrating we found out about shortly after graduation. On June 22nd we learned that I was pregnant! I said I wanted to try for after graduation but I had no idea we'd get that close. In October we found out that we will be having a girl. She is due March 1st and it has been a very comfortable pregnancy so far. At 3 months pregnant I was able to travel to Turkey and at 6 months I still have the energy to teach a Dale Carnegie class and take an improv class. 

 

Traveling:

Part of the reason 2011 felt like two years is that we took two amazing big vacations this year. In March we hit the #1 place on my list - the Galapagos Islands. We went on a smaller boat, the Samba, with only 12 other tourists. The boat, the group, the crew and the guide all contributed to one of the best trips of my life. The Islands, of course, helped, too. I am still trying to develop the words to express the experience, so hopefully I will get them up on this blog sometime soon, when I do. Ryan's favorite part of the trip was swimming with the sea lions. My favorite was watching and listening to the complex relationships between the birds on Genovese island. 

Our next big vacation was in August when we spent two weeks in Turkey, along the southern coast. It was Ryan's 3rd visit to Turkey and my 2nd. We enjoy the atmosphere and the people, who are very friendly. We made several friends on the trip and also met up with a couple of our Seattle friends, Sarah & Jon, half-way through the trip. Ryan's favorite part of this trip was taking a hot air balloon ride over Cappadocia. That was a highlight for me, as well, and I also enjoyed hiking from Kayakoy to the blue lagoon and swimming for hours once we got there. The details of that trip will also make it on to the blog soon. 

Ryan visited China, Dubai, Frankfurt, Hawaii and Australia for work. 

Within the U.S. we made the annual visit to Missouri for 4th of July. I took a trip back to San Luis Obispo, where we went to school, to visit our friends and their super cute baby boy. We also housesat for a friend on Camano Island, in northern Washington. We used the opportunity to cross the border and spend a day in Vancouver, Canada where we rode bikes around the park, went to the aquarium and saw an improv show. 

 

We didn't climb as much this year but we did get some shorter climbs and snowshoeing in. 

 

We wish you all a very happy holiday season and a joyous year in 2012!

Munich: Neuschwanstein

DSC_6599, originally uploaded by marmot_oo7.

The weather forecast called for rain and thunderstorms on Sunday, so decided to take a daytrip to Neuschwanstein Castle. Normally I don’t like tours - they tend cost more and you experience less. In this case, it really was the best option. Getting to Neuschwanstein by train would take twice as long, involve several connections and cost more. Also, a tour guide is required for touring the inside of the castle.

I met the tour bus early in the morning outside the train station, and took a seat next to a large man with a yellow soccer jersey and a baseball hat. His name, it turned out, is Leo and he is from Sao Paolo, Brazil. He traveled through Egypt last year. This year he was continuing through Salzburg, Austria into northern Italy and Florence. The American sitting across from me was mostly interested in the cute Russian girl sitting next to him.

Our tour guide was an older gentleman, with a voice that could make a wolverine purr. Once he started, he could not stop. He talked the entire 10.5 hours of the tour in a stream-of-consciousness-never-ending-history-babble. Including, quite a lot of time about the brown signs that show places of historic interest and how the idea originated in France and spread to the neighboring countries. He paused once - and everyone started laughing.

Our first stop was Linderhof Palace. It was the only castle that Ludwig II completed and the only one he spent much time in. The castle/palace was pretty small and upon entering, the influence of Versailles was immediately apparent. Even though King Louis XIV had lived 400 years earlier, Ludwig II (or Louis in French) admired the Sun King. The most prominent feature at the palace entrance is a statue of Louis XIV. Strangely, few paintings or images of Ludwig II or his family appear anywhere in the palace – most portraits are of residents of Versailles. The palace is well persevered, with all original furniture and decorations. After the tour, we had about 20 minutes to walk about the grounds. Given more time, I would have liked to visit the Grotto, a private underground stage for Richard Wagner plays. Instead, I climbed the steps to get an overview of the estate and watch the fountain display.

We made a 30-minute stop in the very touristy town of Oberammergau. The short stopover was probably added to encourage us to buy things at the shop. However, Leo and I walked to the other end of town to visit the nice church, with its standard onion-dome steeple and Roccoco styling.

We continued through the Bavarian countryside which sprawled around us like a giant lawn. The hills rolled by and soon we were in the Alps. The Zugspitze, the highest point in Germany, flashed in and out of view. More churches and villages rolled by, half-timbered with fairy-tale paintings. Passing corn fields and farmers on tractors reminded us that tourism isn’t the only business in the Alps. Soon, we arrived at the village near Neuschwanstein, which does exist solely on tourism. The village doesn’t even have a name because its only purpose is to be a tourist attraction.

Neueuschwanstein is Germany’s most recognizable symbol, though it is neither old nor historic (about the same age as the Eiffel Tower). Its fantasy good looks, which inspired Disney’s Sleeping Beauty castle, make up for the lack of history. Leo and I got a bite to eat before taking the minibus up to the top of the ridge. From there we hiked a little further to Mariensbukke (Mary's Bridge) for a stunning view of the castle and the countryside. Dozens of paragliders floated on the warm summer breeze. The updrafts are consistent throughout the year and you couldn’t ask for a much better view. Leo was afraid of heights, so I headed up off the well-worn trail alone, past the signs that said “Danger! Death!” The higher I climbed, the better the views got, but I only had an hour before our assigned time to enter the castle. Some students told me it was another hour to the top of Tegelberg Peak, so I stopped to take a few pictures before retracing my steps back down.

The crowds were pretty tame, probably because of the system of assigning entrance times. Although efficient, this did make the experience seem even more like a theme-park.

Only about a third of the rooms were finished when Ludwig II died (under very mysterious circumstances), and these were the rooms we saw. While Linderhof was heavily influenced by the style of Louis XIV, the rooms from Neuschwanstein were taken straight from the pages of Richard Wagner operas. This was one of the first places I had been that departed from the usual Louis XIV, Baroque and Rococo styles. The walls were decorated not with historic or religious scenes, but with operatic scenes from Tristan and Isolde. Ludwig II, a religious man, had his chapel and throne rooms gilded in gold, Byzantine style, with saints and religious motifs. Massive Byzantine chandeliers with colored-glass jewels hung low from the soaring ceilings.

Istanbul: Summary

Trip Dates: 29 October - 3 November 2008

Last-minute ticket price: $900

Hotel: Cem Sultan - cute, good breakfast, close to everything including transportation, good staff

Food: Best restaurant - Rami Restaurant; Quick and cheap - simit carts & Simit Sarayi

Favorite Activities: Mouse - hamami & Bosphorus cruise; Marmot -

Planning: Rick Steve's; Turkey Travel Planner; we didn't use this for our trip but I Was In Turkey has a lot of good information

Istanbul: Day 3 - Bosphorus

Rust-o-liner, originally uploaded by Flagstaff Mouse.

To avoid the tourist crowds, we hit the Blue Mosque shortly after the call to prayer woke us up. The outer courtyard was peaceful without the hordes of tourists waiting in line. Clouds and late fall cast moody light on the mosque, making it actually look blue.

Unlike many churches, the outside is just as impressive as the inside. The curves and minarets certainly make it feel like a different culture. Since iconic art was not allowed at many points in history, calligraphy was the logical replacement. I don't know what any of it said, but it is beautiful. The tile work is filled with detail and rich colors, even outside.

On a sunny day, the open interior would be filled with light. In the cloudy, morning light the ceiling was almost not visible. Apparently, we had manage to sneak in before tourist time – which is why it was so quiet. With my headscarf and Ryan’s dark hair, the guards didn’t really notice us until Ryan pulled out his tripod. One planning note – if you are ever going to Istanbul, think twice about hauling around a tripod. We were kicked out, but had spent enough time inside to be satisfied. Mosques are so open that it does not take long to look around.

Since the clouds had not yet produced any rain, we booked a Bosphorus Strait ferry cruise. Featuring: A bridge that spans continents. Cool. The Rick Steves' guide has a good explanation of what you are seeing along the way, but had us spending most of our time on the way up the straight dashing back and forth. Europe. Asia. Europe. Asia. This was a neat way to see the surrounding area, but would probably be a bit miserable in the rain.

At each ferry stop we saw people waiting for friends or family. Cats prowled, looking for fish or fought on the steps of the mosques.

Rumeli Hisari, an old fort, looked castle-like when juxtaposed with the modern bridge. As we made our way up, we crossed into one of the more expensive neighborhoods. Most of the houses were accompanied by a smaller boathouse in this area and we saw several people fishing for their lunch.

The water level must not vary too much because the ornate houses are built right up and even over the water. Some had so many rooms and windows they looked like dollhouses perched along the shore.

We didn’t want to wait for the ferry, so we disembarked at Sariyer and started looking for lunch. We had barely begun wandering up the docks when the rain came. Talk about good timing. We ducked into one of many seafood restaurants and took a table on the (covered) roof so that we could watch the boats go by as we ate. Midye tava, fried mussels, is a Turkish specialty. Armed with the new knowledge that Ryan is not allergic to seafood, we ordered cold octopus (OK, weird texture), baked fish (tasty and not that expensive) and midye tava (scrumptious).

Taking the bus back turned out to be a good plan as it was pouring down rain by the time we left. Tired and cold, we opted not to get off for Rumeli Hisari, but regretted it a little as we drove past the expansive grounds. Next time.

The rain meant wandering was pretty much out of the question, so we spent the rest of the evening at the bazaar and eating dinner.

I went to bed early, since I had to be up by five to catch the early tram back to the airport the next morning. Good thing I did - I made a wrong transfer and barely made it to the plane. The girl at the check-in counter tsked me and told me to hurry. “You should already be at your gate!”

My stomach was growling as I ran. Feeling faint, I took a minute to stop for breakfast at a snack bar. The simits, which had been 1 Lira in front of the tram terminal, were 6 Lira! I couldn’t scrounge that much change up, so I settled for a yogurt drink (lassi in India) for 4.50 Lira. I gulped down the cool, slightly salty yogurt as I rode the moving walkways toward my gate. It was much better than I had expected. I finished just as I stepped up to security, ran my bags through, and collapsed into my seat. Next stop – Paris.

Istanbul: Day 2 – The Major Sights

Framing a Picture, originally uploaded by marmot_oo7.

Ryan had come in the night before, and after a kebab dinner, we had gone to sleep. The early-morning prayer call woke us – the only downside to being right next to the Blue Mosque. We got to breakfast early and took some pictures out the balcony while one of the women boiled eggs and cooked sausage. The young man showed up with a couple bags of bread – presumably fresh from the bakery. The “traditional Turkish breakfast” consisted of meat, cheese, olives, eggs, dried fruit and bread. Tea, Nescafe and orange juice were the drink options – Turkish coffee is for after lunch or dinner. Expectant seagulls landed on the roof outside the window and tried to beg from us, like the local cats do. For some reason they are much less successful.

Since the Blue Mosque opens first, we headed there, cameras in hand. However, an entire cruise boat of people had arrived before us. A walk past the Hagia Sofia confirmed a similar crowd there. The cisterns, however, were still pretty lonely. These cisterns were in the James Bond movie, From Russia With Love. Orange light highlighted the massive columns as the dripping water and muffled voices echoed around us. The air was cool and pleasantly musty. As I sat waiting for Ryan to take pictures of the two Medusa heads, the whole scene reminded me of a book. The Old Kingdom trilogy by Garth Nix – I think.

After the cistern we resigned ourselves to standing in line and joined the rest of the umbrella toting crowd outside Hagia Sophia. Despite the fact that 90% of us had umbrellas, street vendors paced hopefully back and forth with umbrellas draped over their arms. The line took less time than we expected and we were inside – minus Ryan’s tripod, which had to be left with security.

Although we pressed through the doors with hundreds of other people, the vast interior swallowed us up easily. The dim overcast light and scaffolding in the center dome made this room less impressive than it could have been, but it was still an awesome sight. It was so big that our footsteps didn’t echo and our cameras could not reach to the indistinct underside of the domes.

We walked up a stone ramp to the upper galleries, which were smaller, so a little more crowded. In the renovated sections, the yellow paint was bright and happy. The mosaics were made with tiny chips of stone, and we were impressed that so many were intact. We peered out one of the small, shuttered windows and discovered the best views of the blue mosque. Just past the metal curves of Hagia Sophia’s domes, echoing the curving geometry. When we edged toward the windows, no one was there. But, the sight of two people with big cameras standing on tiptoes enticed over a gaggle of other tourists. The horde would slowly dissipate, then a new one would appear ten minutes later as someone else noticed the view.

I sat at the base of one of the columns listening to the awestruck tourists around me. A man across from me marveled in his British accent, “Can you imagine what it would have been like full of worshippers?” he said. I tried to imagine the same thing and could not. The Englishman was replaced with a Spanish tour group. Once again the one man in the group leaned against a pillar and remarked on the building to the women. I couldn’t understand every word, but enough to recognize that it was the same conversation. Only the language had changed.

Before we left, we stopped at the weeping column in the main chamber. This column “weeps” water occasionally and hordes of people run their finger around a hole in the column, hoping to feel this supposedly lucky moisture. Ryan wanted to lick his finger first, just to see the next tourists’ reactions, but I talked him out of it. Mostly because he had already touched the hand-polished surface. Eww.

Because we had tickets to the dervishes at 4:30 and the rest of the day had taken longer than we planned, we tried to get to Topkapi palace quickly. However, today was the intercontinental marathon and the streets of Sultanahmet were the final leg. Dodging runners, we made our way through the police barriers to the Palace. A confused jumble of tourists gathered under the short overhang, some trying to buy tickets other just trying to stay out of the rain.

We walked past the harem, outside of which a long queue had formed. We toured a few lavish rooms then made our way to the famed treasury. The wealth displayed inside was made famous by the 1964 movie, Topkapi, For a chuckle, check out the trailer on YouTube. The heist in the movie centered around the Topkapi Dagger – an emerald encrusted weapon that was obviously more for ornament than anything else. Emeralds were the jewel of choice for the sultans. They adorned thrones, headdresses, writing boxes and pitchers. Surrounded, of course, by lots of gold. The polished, but uncut, stones looked fake tucked back in their niches. Although the treasury was packed wall-to-wall, it didn’t take long to read the informative signs and examine the goods over the heads of shorter people.

Next were the relics. Rick Steves calls them “remarkably well-preserved,” and we had to agree. Bits and pieces of the prophets – from snippets of a beard to a whole arm bone – were on display in ornate boxes. Moses’ staff was prominently displayed, gleaming like it had spent some time in the Red Sea being polished.

We were getting short on time, so we skipped some of the outer courtyard buildings, which were mostly just for entertaining. The line for the harem had gone down, and after some trouble getting the right change, we got our tickets and went inside. The sign outside asked us to “preserve the silence,” but I couldn’t help thinking how loud it must have been in the building with that many women fighting for position as a favorite. Even our whispers reverberated in the tile-lined entertainment hall. The solemn atmosphere was broken by a loud BOOM and giggles as one of the tourists smacked face-first into a sheet of Plexiglass that covered the entrance to an alcove.

The women would have had some of the best views of the cities from their upstairs quarters, which were off limits. The courtyard outside would have also had a great view, but the decades had left tall trees blocking most of it. Once again, we were amazed at how intact the tiles were. Some places had been patched by stealing from other parts of the palace, but for the most part they were beautifully complete.

Leaving the harem, we walked down toward the tram station. A sudden sound, like dozens of beating wings made us look back, and we saw a front of rain coming toward us like a curtain. Ryan got his recently purchased umbrella (the one we stashed at Hagia Sophia had disappeared) up just in time to save the cameras. We grabbed a couple simits and squelched back to Sultanahmet.

Sultanahmet was still shut down for the marathon. This fact was apparently eluding the taxis and tour buses waiting impatiently to get past the intersection in front of the Blue Mosque. We walked past the long line of waiting cabs until we found one turning around for the back streets. We told him the name of our destination, Galata Mevlevehanesi, and almost got in a wreck as he tried to look at our guidebook. Still, he was lost and we ended up stopping for directions. We wound through narrow passageways, barely wide enough for the cab. Suddenly, we emerged into the clearing dominated by the Galata Tower and I knew where I was. We got out there and walked the rest of the way to the monastery. Panting and wet after the hike up the cobblestone street, we passed through the gates – only to find out that we were an hour early. Daylight savings time had taken effect, and the city clocks had not been changed to let us know that. (This time change also meant that I had turned in my homework assignment one hour late. Bah.)

Cold and wet, we sought shelter in a Simit Sarayi café just up from the monastery. Sipping hot chocolate brought energy back into my body. We left the monastery at 4:45 and walked toward the theater where the dervishes were to perform.

Taking seats in the center of the row, we napped until a quartet came out. Music is central to the ceremony and sets the pace for the dervishes. We didn’t take any pictures of the dancing because it felt weird to do that during a religious ceremony. The dervishes spin in quest of enlightenment. They came out after a couple songs. The lead dervish picked up a sheepskin from the ground and placed it at the front of the stage. The rest of the dervishes, of all ages, lined up on a pile of sheepskins and waited. The lead dervish began spinning slowly and the others jointed him. The younger ones were a little less smooth. The twirling and music left me struggling to stay awake. Music is supposed to help the dervishes achieve a semi-trance – and it worked on me, too.

As the music tempo increased, so did the spinning. At the end of the hour-long performance, the dervishes were sweating. They made motions as if performing ablutions, then gathered up their sheepskins and walked off the stage. We were glad we took the time to see a fairly rare event, and I can now cross that off my list of things to do in my life.

Although I was miserably cold, I managed to forget that as we approached a bookstore. We went in and perused the literature, much of which was not in Turkish. I bought a Turkish cookbook (in Spanish) and we made our way back to the hotel. It was too rainy to walk down Istiklal street and we weren’t even sure the tram was running, so we just found a cab.

After a hot shower, I was ready for dinner. We had only had the simit and a glass of hot chocolate since breakfast. One of the recommended restaurants, Rami Restaurant, was around the corner from our hotel. The restaurant is in a restored Ottoman house. Most of the furniture and decorations look original. The house had once been part of the mosque complex, but now was dedicated to the memory of a Turkish artist, Rami Uluer The food was excellent. I had a simple “paper” kebab, which was just a mix of vegetables and meat cooked in parchment paper. Ryan’s kebab came with a yogurt sauce. Between the atmosphere and the food, this remains one of the best restaurants I have eaten at while traveling.

We changed out of our wet socks and hoped the next morning would be clear.

Istanbul: Day 1 – Wandering

Topkapi Spice Shop, originally uploaded by Flagstaff Mouse.

I woke up to a golden sunrise peeking through the clouds over the water. The sky was too beautiful for me to wait until the hotel served breakfast, so I headed to the Blue Mosque to take some pictures. Around the fountain a group of workers was laying down new sod – maybe getting ready for Republic Day on the 29th?

Walking downhill with the morning commuters, I passed gaggles of sleepy tourists as they waited for their buses. Since my final destination was Taksim square, in the New District, I hopped on a tram and rode to the funicular station across the water. Galata bridge was lined with fisherman. Amid the crowds bustling toward the bus and funicular stations, I missed a great picture. Three younger men were waiting for the bus, each had a backpack thrown over one shoulder – and an orange chainsaw over the other. Not something you would see in the States.

The funicular dropped me off in Taksim square. Traffic was getting up to full speed, so people actually had to wait for the pedestrian lights to turn. Still, I did see a few close calls as impatient Turks ran out into the middle of traffic. At the center of the square, guarded by the polis, is a monument to Ataturk. One side shows his military aspect and the other his political side.

By now I had completely walked off my ice cream dinner, so I ate breakfast at Simit Sarayi. I would have been just as happy with a simit from a street vendor – but the fresh squeezed orange juice was worth stopping for. The place was packed, so I guess they are a popular chain, like the guidebook said. With a little more energy now, I made my way down Istiklal street toward the Galata monastery. I stopped at a Turkish Delight shop to pick up a box of what is supposed to be premium Turkish Delight. All kinds of shops line Istiklal street, which is where the “scene” is at come nightfall.

Following the signs toward the monastery, I ended up on a street dedicated to music stores. The windows were mostly filled with string instruments, but there was a scattering of saxophone, drum and electronic keyboard shops, as well. I walked right by the monastery and ended up at Galata tower. The highest point in Galata, this tower has been used for many things – supposedly even hang gliding. Now it is a restaurant and observation deck. Since I was there, I paid my 10 YTL and took the elevator up to get one of the best views of Istanbul. A few patches of blue sky were still showing and the sun lit up the golden spires of the mosques. In the short time I was up there, the wind picked up and the broken clouds turned into light showers.

Head bent against the rain, I made my way back up the hill, where I found an English family who had hired a private guide. I followed along behind them, listening to the tour, and was glad when they led me straight to the Dervish hall. I picked up tickets for the next day’s show – it unfortunately wouldn’t be held in the traditional hall, which is under construction.

The guide took the tourists to a place out of the rain, but I didn’t linger. Back on Istiklal street, I stopped with all the other strollers to buy a cheap plastic umbrella. As soon as the raindrops hit these colorful umbrellas appeared, like wildflowers in the desert. By the end of the day, every other person would have one. I bought the umbrella just as the downpour started. The next two days would be filled with the street vendors' cries of “umbreh-la...umbreh-lla...umbreh-la!”

On the tram back toward Sultanahmet I decided to stop by the spice market. Outside the mosque at the tram stop, four booths were selling trays of bird food for the mass of pigeons. Supposedly it is good luck to have a pigeon poop on you, but I was happy to have my umbrella, in case it was my lucky day.

The rain picked up again and everyone headed into the covered spice market. The temperature inside was about ten degrees warmer, due to the lights and people. Some standard tourist stalls were in there, but mostly spice, nut and dried fruit shops. I would have loved to try a little of everything, but was vying with crowds of people trying to do the same thing. I did try my first bite of Turkish Delight and thought it was quite good. It was nothing compared to the fresh, gourmet stuff I had purchased that morning, as I would find out when I got home.

After about four passes through the market I finally got up the nerve to start buying things. The first walk through I was just overwhelmed by the piles of myriad powders. Next time through I started taking pictures. Each time the vendors tried different tactics to get me to stop. One tried the “you dropped something, lady” approach but I smiled and said “no, I didn’t.” Later, I saw this work on a Japanese couple at the Grand Bazaar. Everyone had a good laugh – I don’t know if they bought anything though. One man asked to borrow my umbrella for “just two minutes” so he could go outside. Presumably I would wait by the stall while his partner tried to get me to buy things.

On passes three and four I put the camera away and started seriously looking at prices. Most stores were about the same, but some seemed a little better than others. At one shop I smelled all kinds of loose tea and was tempted by all of them. I ended up getting traditional apple tea, green tea with lemon and black tea with rose – a little more than I meant to get because it is hard to judge what 250g of tea will look like. After that I got a half kilo of nuts and 100g each of turmeric and paprika – two of my favorite spices. I could have spent much longer in there if I had brought my backpack to hold all my stuff, so it’s probably good that I didn’t.

Laden with bags, I went back to the hotel. The trams were packed now, and I kept poking people with my umbrella as they crammed in the doors. I ditched the umbrella and changed into my hat and raincoat, then walked up to the Grand Bazaar. Because I was prepared for rain this time, the sun came out for a little while. This was perfect, since I wanted to stop in the park overlooking the Blue Mosque and take some pictures.

The hotel is only about seven blocks from the Grand Bazaar. I had my path written down from the guidebook and my camera ready as I passed through the arched entrance.

The first street was wide and lined with glass-fronted shops. The gold and silver inside glittered and the crowd was still fairly dispersed. Most of the stores just sold gold bangle bracelets, so there wasn’t much reason to browse. These bangle bracelets have traditionally been a way for people to keep their savings close at hand.

About five minutes later, I was at the heart of the bazaar – and off the tour path I had written down. The bazaar feels like a giant metro station filled with shops. Most are vaguely arranged by the type of goods they are selling, so it was easy to skip over whole sections – since I’m not really interested in purses and wasn’t in the market for a carpet.

I was starving after passing the yummy-smelling corn vendors all the way to the bazaar. So, being off-route wasn’t wholly bad, since I ended up right next to the restaurant where I had planned to eat. The place was packed and hectic – it is in a lot of tour guides – but the food was good. I got stuffed peppers with a basket full of bread. Thus rejuvenated, I made my way back into the throngs and the calls of “hey, lady,” and “yes, please?”

The bazaar was actually much less tempting than the spice market, for me. Of course, I hadn’t found the book market or the antique section on this visit. (We found that later).

Since a kese was really the only thing I wanted at the bazaar, I skipped a lot of the 4,000+ stores. In the much-quieter outside portion I found the firearms section, which was strangely situated next to stores that sold backgammon. Although signs pointed to the specific streets, since I kept forgetting which one I wanted this didn’t help much. I found myself in a quiet square away from the bustle. Most of the vendors there were selling jeans. It was weird going suddenly from the hot, noisy indoor shops to the cool, empty square.

My favorite part of the bazaar was seeing the tea delivery service. Brass trays with handles are used to carry glasses of tea and bowls of sugar. These couriers pass by constantly, dodging shoppers as they balance their tray and somehow manage to not spill the tea.

I finally found the textile shop that provided a lot of the costumes for the movie Troy. Egin’s Tekstil is the last one in the covered textile market, and had a lot more subdued wares. The tiny shop was packed full from floor to ceiling. I didn’t have much choice other than to step up to the counter and the kindly-looking man behind it. When I told him I was looking for a kese, he pulled out three types. “What do you use if for? At home or at hamam?” I said I was going to a hamam and he showed me the traditional hamam kese. “But,” he said, “ you cannot use this one at home. It is bad for the skin. These other two you can use at home or at hamam.” He told me the prices, and said, “Most others want to sell you the most expensive – I want to sell you the most useful.”

The rain had stopped so I headed for the Turkish bath. On my way, I was stopped by a couple men playing backgammon in front of a store. They asked if I was Australian (not the last time I would get that question) and were surprised to hear I was American. Not surprisingly, they don’t get many Americans in October. They invited me to have tea and play backgammon with them, but I wanted to find the bath so I could get back to the hotel when Ryan got in.

When I passed the cistern, I realized I had also passed the bath and made my way back up the street. A man at one of the small restaurants hailed me and asked where I was going. I told him I was looking for the hamam and he instantly waved me inside. He pulled out a map and showed me the way to a different, but also recommended bath. “Everything around here is expensive,” he said. “Go to this one it only costs around 40 lira. That other one, it cost 80.” He insisted on giving me some tea and cut some meat off the rotisserie for me as he explained how to get there. It was pretty straightforward, but he kept repeating it. He also told me not to talk to the other vendors on the street. They would only want to sell me things. He told me I was his friend and to come back if I needed to know anything more. Or if I got hungry. So much for not selling me things.

To get to the bath I basically ended up walking back to the bazaar. The Cemberlitas Hamami was the more traditional one, according to the guidebook. It also said they didn’t have supplies for the women, but that has already changed since they wrote the text. I paid and received a kese, a thin towel and a token for a massage, which looked like a small yellow bar of soap. I was shown into the changing room, to my locker and handed some foam sandals. Wearing only my towel and underwear I made my way downstairs to the bath chamber. The girl showed me the door and that was it. During this whole process there was very little talking.

Inside, the round room was dominated by a huge octagonal, stone platform. Here about half a dozen nude women were laying on their towels, staring up at the lantern ceiling. One woman was covered in suds and getting a massage. All around the room were fountains where women poured water over themselves with metal bowls. Some were followed by small children – both boys and girls.

I spent about an hour alternating between relaxing on the hot stone and pouring water over myself before getting my massage. Each time a new tourist showed up they would look around perplexedly, clutching their pestemal (towel) tightly around them. Eventually they would crawl up on the stone with everyone else, like a seal joining a crowded, sunny rock. The masseuses had quite a time directing people around so they had room to do their thing. Since languages were dubious, they would pat the woman who was in the way and point to an open spot. Some women moved quickly while others timidly tried to understand what was going on.

The acoustics of the chamber made every sound echo in an interesting way. The only voices were those of the masseuses as they joked with each other and directed the bodies. The sound of splashing and water dripping from the sweating ceiling creating a continuous white noise with the soothing effect of listening to a happy creek babbling away.

By the time I was done I felt thoroughly clean. My skin was soft and my tension from the long flight had disappeared. This was one of my favorite parts of the trip.