the world at large: July 2006

Göreme

in search of a cave

home.

our eyes.

ben.me.brendan.

The American Dream in a ditch in Turkiye

Places we’ve slept and People we’ve met…
-overnight buses, to and from central turkey. Being sprayed with perfumed pine sol throughout the night, being served poor tea and worse coffee, yet still feeling pampered on the infamous Turkish bus lines.

-Caves, both official and unofficial. The official pension was in the town of göreme, which is the central town in Cappadocia, a cousin to the southwest of America. Giant mushroom shaped phallic rock formations and cliff sides with caves carved into them by 4th century Christians in the form of churches and living spaces. The entire city looks like it is out of the Flintstones, the first star wars movie desert scenes or like an elf city. The people were relievingly friendly and social compared to everywhere we have been so far. We journeyed out here to escape from the cities and to sleep under the stars and hear silence. In town there were many hotels/pensions that utilized the caves for tourism. Our first night we stayed in one which was nice but uneventful unless you count the small white poodle with uncannily human like eyes and an appearance much like the dog/dragon “falcor” from The Neverending Story. Ben had the strong suspicion that this dog was actually a human who had offended a witch or perhaps a fakir, who put a spell on him, casting him into the form of a dog. Unfortunately, after a short and inconclusive conversation, Ben realized that his attempts were futile, because the person probably wouldn’t have spoken English.
The second day we set in search for an uninhabited and therefore free cave to sleep in. It took all day wandering three valleys finding only boarded up caves, one which was a church filled with broken glass, another which was tainted by human excrement and another which Brendan’s imagination turned into a sacrificial alter. Finally towards the end of the day we found the perfect cave that was as close to vertical as we would’ve attempted to climb, in a mountainous rock. Home sweet home. A dusty floor, a crumbling roof that was a couple inches too short for Brendan and Ben’s (now bruised) poor heads, but it was a quiet and magical little place. We could see the stars through the round doorway, had shelter from the wind, as well as from the heat of day and cold of night, as the mighty rock remained stable between the extremes of temperature and the mosquitoes couldn’t find Sierra (she has a sever allergy to their bites). We’ve learned on this trip that mosquitoes have an uncanny ability to only bite Sierra, one morning she woke up with a swollen shuteye from an ambush in Istanbul. You will find photos on her blog along with pictures of the human/dog and the rest of our journeys. We found that the best Imam (the call to prayer) experience was out in the cave in the evennings it would echo through the valley and harmonize with itself.

-A car, a 1972 baby blue Ford Convertible. The American dream, slightly shrunken down for Europe. Ben and Brendan had their eyes on it ever since we arrived in Göreme. It winked at them so mysteriously every time they walked past its parking lot. So when we made the decision to stay a little longer, we found ourselves driving through Cappodocia in this dream vehicle, rented at a ridiculously cheap price, feeling as though we were riding on a cloud, if clouds were made of steel and rubber, and had a left turn signal that refused to stop blinking. And a spectacle we were driving through the little towns of central Turkey sticking out like…like… like three of kids riding through a rural Turkish town in a rented old convertible blasting Led Zeppelin and soaking in the dry mountainous landscape. We felt a little silly. But it was also really fun. We rode the dream to an underground city called Kimakli. 8 floors deep and was 4,000 years old, Kimakli was used in more recent eras by the people living above ground as a place to escape extreme weather and invaders. But nothing is really known about the original people who hollowed out these cities in stone, One of the benefits of this place are that it is extremely cool when it is hot outside, and warm when it is cold. In fact, we have been drinking fresh squeezed orange juice all of this time in Istanbul, and wondering where the hell good oranges are coming from at this time of year…it turns out that masses are stored in another nearby cave city, as the conditions inside create a natural refrigeration system, preserving oranges for up to four months longer then they would stay good above ground, without degrading the taste at all. It is said they actually become more flavorful over time. Brilliant.
Afterwards, we drove farther south to Ihlara Valley, which has the fifth largest canyon in the world. That night we drove deep into the farmlands near the valley, where the American dream car revealed its mechanical reality. This symbol of over stylized quickly became a rather large burden to us, as it firmly made the decision to lock itself in reverse in the middle of our attempt to make a u-turn on a country road. Tensions heightened as the car backed further and further off the paved road and down onto the empty field beside. We eventually decided to wait until morning before making any major decisions. So meanwhile we nestled ourselves in under the million stars overhead, with countless shooting stars blazing across the sky, crammed into the seats of now immobile Ford. It seems like sometimes the simplest wish, such as to sleep out under stars, requires the most complex arrangements to be granted.
We woke with the sunrise, and clear heads, and a large question mark looming above us. We spotted two farmers among stacks of boxes only a stone’s throw away, and we quickly looked up essentials in our English-Turkish dictionary, such as “Help,” “Car,” “Push,” and “Please.” The farmers turned out to be a Father and his Son with bright and gentle demeanor who were already familiar with our problem. Mehmet, the father quickly introduced himself and asked us if we wanted tea and then followed us down to the car. He made a quick evaluation of the situation and then hopped under the car and unlocked the gear by hand. After he took the car for a glory ride he permanently fixed the car with a wire and a pair of pliers and the offered us tea again. By this time we had silently declared him as our hero and were well acquainted with his son Kamal who spoke a wee bit of English. We discovered the stack of boxes that we noticed earlier actually contained bees. This was a family of beekeepers, the most intriguing and mystical profession in our eyes. What we thought would only be tea actually was a feast prepared by the mother in their little home. It was the best meal that we have had on this whole trip. We offered what we could which was a bag full of peaches and Sierra created a new way of eating flat bread which everyone soon caught onto. For over two hours we conversed through our Turkish dictionary and hand gestures, we never felt so at home and cared for in all our travels. We exchanged information and left with 2 kilograms of fresh raw honey. Ben had been searching for good honey since January and was finally satisfied. Sierra got a harmless bee sting and took Polaroid’s of everyone. We said our grateful goodbyes and returned the (blessed? cursed?) car as quickly as possible.

-Rumi. We took a bus to the town of Konya, where the beloved Sufi Poet Rumi known as Mevlâna meaning “our guide” lived and was buried. He has recently gained recognition in the west but he has been highly respected here for a long time. His poems are about many things, they are mystical and loving. There is no way to sum up Rumi; you just have to read his poems. Konya is a major pilgrimage sight for Muslims and is home of the Whirling Dervish also known as Mevlevi which was organized by Rumi’s son. We went to the Mevlâna museum and found it to be quit unique in the way that it contained all mediums of art, including instruments, stone carving, book making, architecture, clothing, paintings, sculpture and writing which is all following the same tradition of Rumis work which is following and expressions the divine. It also was the resting place for Rumi, his father and his son as well as many other Sufis.
That night we attended the Whirling Dervish ceremony. The Whirling dervish symbolizes in seven parts the different meanings of a mystic cycle to perfection. Contemporary science confirms that the fundamental condition of our existence is to revolve. There is no object, no being which does not revolve. The whirling dervish of Samâzen causes the mind to participate in the shared similarity and the revolution of all other beings. The feeling of watching this is still inexplicable and would be expressed better in person.

-Elvis. Another noteworthy character who is known to have taken residence in Konya, and who will perhaps go down in history, is Elvis - a charismatic, clever and slightly devilish carpet salesmen who imparts rugs, shenanigans, and tales from his underground shop, which is more stage than carpet shop, really. He was a great conversationalist, monologist, and jokester, and we talked for hours. He made it known that he was an honest cheat, and that his true calling was show business, and not retail, but that his talents could enhance and enrich even that seemingly dry profession. We had many cups of tea with him and his apprentice/nephew in the short time we were in Konya, and again felt that we were leaving newfound friends too soon, but also just as quickly as we met them.

Afterwards, we returned to Istanbul in good spirits, where Brendan took off up the route that brought us here, through eastern and central Europe. We are spending our days writing lengthy documents such as this one, avoiding the hot afternoons, creating and ambling about with Nick and Teresa, browsing through endless piles of trinkets in the magical junk and jewelry shop down the street, and readying ourselves for the final leg of our joint adventure, and Sierra’s ultimate (albeit temporary) destination- the United Kingdom.

wandering.

family...

island life.

the five of us took a daytrip to an island outside of istanbul.
it was much needed.

mosquito bite.

mondays not a mosque day

today we attempted to go to the Aya Sofya only to find it closed of Mondays...no mosque today. We are planning a trip out to eastern Turkey maybe to the poet Rumis homeland and out camping along the Tigris or Euphrates river...Either way I will be happy to be out of a city and closer to nature. Its strange to be so close to Iraq and Iran. To know whats going on across the border and the fact that the country I am from has everything to do with it.