"Best Trail Ride Ever"

We ride towards the snow-capped mountain. The valley stretches forever - first one bend, then another. Through the middle runs a mountain stream. This area is all open range. The farmers rent grazing rights from the village, but there are no fences, no power lines, no development, none. Leon surmises that this is what the west must have been like in the days of Zane Grey and Louis L'amour lore.

We round a bend and see a horseman with a dog, a flock of sheep. He rides up and pleasantries are exchanged with Rysbek and Askar. Around the next bend is a herd of horses. Again, hands are extended and grasped.

It slowly soaks in that we are riding through an amazing, wild part of Central Asia. We snap hundreds of pictures of the valley; none do it justice. After five hours, we come to a small farm, comprised of a tent made of cotton and a horse corral. They welcome us with tea. We are supposed to ride another 90 minutes, but we declare "here is good" and set up our tents about 50 feet from the rushing stream.

Rysbek would like to go hunting, and Jim's willing. Rysbek has brought two guns along. One -- a 1915 Browning (Belgian) shotgun --he received as a present from his son-in-law, and has never shot. Leon figures out how the pieces go together, and Jim claims that gun. Rysbek meanwhile has a World War One Russian sniper rifle.

The rest of us stay in valley and start a campfire for supper. We hear a few shots now and then. When they return, Jim has shot three rabbits. They are taken from him, skinned, washed in the river, skewered, and put onto the fire's coals within 10 minutes.

Iskar, another farmer, comes riding by with his two dogs, his sheep. He crosses over the stream (leaving his flock on the other side) and sits with us and shares the meal of rabbit. We LOVE that he does so, noting the instant camaraderie of this nomadic life.

Saddling Up

The next morning, we arise to see for the first time where we really are. We are on a simple ranch, but nothing about the scenery is simple. In one direction, we see their grazing horses against a backdrop straight from a movie set, except it's real. In another direction, mountain flowers paint the ground with purples, yellows and blues. It is heart-stopping beautiful.

After washing up in the stream, Askar and son start rounding up the horses, but not to be saddled -- yet. First, the mares need to be milked. (Fermented mare's milk is a famous Kyrgyz drink.) I had not heard of milking horses, but Askar says they can be milked up to five times a day.

Then, the saddles come out. The saddles look like a wooden frame, with little to no leather attached. My butt is anticipating several hours in these, and I wince. But, atop a saddle blanket, they put on these saddles "frames", another thick blanket, then a cinch that goes around the entire works. By the time I'm seated, it feels very comfortable.

The horses are well trained. They are not small ponies, but the same size as an American quarter horse. We all name our horses: mine is Blue Babbette; Beth's is Loretta; Mark's is Lucky; and Jim's is Star. The mouth noises Askar and his son use with them are obviously different than our "giddy-up" and "whoa;" I can't roll my r's so I'm unable to even make one of the sounds. But, my horse is trained for neck reining and responds well to me.

We ultimately ride a 30 mile round trip over two days through mountainous terrain, including fording quite fast-running streams. I assume correctly that my horse knows where to plant his hooves better than I and I give him a lot of rein.

Traditional Ceremony of the Lamb

We knew we were going to be staying in a yurt our first night on the mountain, but it was very different than I had expected. I had imagined an igloo-shaped temporary shelter, covered in wool. (I got the shape and wool part right.) But, the rest was wrong. Askar's yurt was built many years ago by his father. It is a permanent structure, with wooden ribs. Plain from the outside, it is beautiful inside, filled with cushions and carpets on the floor.

As we entered it late that first night, the yurt was filled with food and family. We were asked to sit down, cross-legged style, and the introductions began.

With the exception of 50 plus years as a collective farm while part of the Soviet Union, this farm has been in Rysbek's family since the 16th century. His brother Askar and his family live here; they shepherd sheep and over 40 horses. The farm is simple and beautiful. There is a small farmhouse and this yurt, where the family takes all of its meals. There is no running water, indoor plumbing, or electricity. A single bulb lights the yurt, powered by a 12-volt battery.

It's 10:30 p.m. by now and the family has been awaiting our arrival. On a tablecloth on the floor are many small dishes of cream, honey, jam, and nuts. There are hundreds of small baked bread puffs spread across the whole. We eat and sip tea, and talk. It is delicious. We think that is the meal.

Then, a whole lamb is brought in. It has been killed to honor our arrival. It is boiled, and the head of the lamb adorns the top of the plate. We are told that the most honored guest receives the head to eat; that is Jim. He receives it with aplomb. Rysbek instructs us on the importance - and ceremony - of the lamb. Depending on your stature, you receive different joints or pieces. After parsing out the parts, Rysbek says that if anyone entered the yurt at this point, they would immediately know the status of each person, based on the lamb section in front of them. This is a custom that has been followed for hundreds of years.

Beyond the End of the Road

One of Jim's magical moments of this entire trip is our journey the second day in Kyrgyzstan. As Jim describes it to others, "We fly to the city of Bishkek, which 99% of Americans have never heard of, we drive 300 miles on bumpy asphalt roads, only to turn off onto a washboard dirt road that winds up a mountain. It's dark by now, and I can only glimpse a drop-off at the side of the road here with no idea how far it drops or what is below. Finally, we drive up to a gate, where there are a few houses clustered. I imagine we must be there, but we go on - another 20 minutes. I realize that I have never been this far away in my life. We've just traveled beyond the end of the road."

And, he has yet to really see where we are. But, let me start at the beginning of the day...

We leave Bishkek early in the morning, around 7:30 a.m. We're all together in a fifteen person van, which sounds big, but it contains the driver, his wife, son, and daughter; the five of us; and Rysbek, Anara, her daughter and niece. All of our luggage (we brought too much!) is piled on several seats, so it is cozy!


We travel along the northern edge of Issyk-Kul lake; the road at times also abuts the border with Kazakhstan. The lake is the second largest mountain lake in the world. The lake is clear and stunning, with little development along the shore. We can often see the white peaks of the Tien Shan mountains looming on the southern shore. We stop to swim at - get this! - the Moscow Communist Party Resort. I swim and swim.

We also stop at a cultural center along the lake that epitomizes tolerance. Through statues, buildings, and other art forms, it tries to represent the central tenets of each world religion.

Other than these stops, and for breakfast and lunch, we travel fairly continuously. Finally, we arrive at Rysbek's brother Askar's family farm. We get out of the van, stretch, and see a million stars. We are up high!

New Day in Kyrgyzstan

Our first day in Kyrgyzstan flew by. Rysbek, Babur, and Anara took us first to the Kyrgyz History Museum in Bishkek. The most interesting items to me were contained in the basement level - small, gold items found in Kyrgyzstan from ancient times. These items have been on public display only since 2008. Inside this museum I learned for the first time about "Manas", a Kyrgyzstan epic that, for them, rivals The Iliad.

We shopped for a bit at a local crafts area, containing many felt items, woolens, hats. We didn't take full advantage, as we were still in a sleep-deprived stupor. We tried a local drink for which Coca-Cola has recently bought rights to the recipe. Here's Leon's reaction..

The absolute best part of the day were the meals when we sat together and got to know more about each others' families and countries. Our dinner was at a park where permanent "picnic sites" (i.e. raised platforms) are available for dining. We sit together in a beautiful evening, and are served a wonderfully spiced rice dish. We are serenaded with traditional Kyrgyz folk songs.

We talk about Kyrgyzstan and its hopes for a peaceful future. The April 7th revolution is still fresh; one of Anara's college professors was killed during the skirmish. There are many hopes for the new president - and the soon to be elected new parliament. If all goes well, Kyrgyzstan would lead the "stans" in being its first democracy. Rysbek comments that the most important aspect will be whether their work is "transparent" and whether it re-invests income in the country (rather than their own pockets).

The country is poor, with a GNP of $1.5 billion. But, it's population is hard-working and highly educated. Kyrgyzstan pays for education through college, if a young person is interested and bright. Many of its educated people, however, today live outside of the country. (Kyrgyzstan has a population of 5 million, counting 1 million living abroad.)

We give many toasts - for our countries' futures, for our own. My favorite toast comes from Anara, "May we continue to stay in touch, and may our grandchildren be friends."

A Man Who's Rich in Daughters

I should mention how we happened to go to The Kyrgyz Republic in the first place. Jim and I met Kunduz Rysbek in Beibei, China two years ago while leading a study-abroad trip from the College of St. Ben's/ St. John's University. She was there studying Chinese on her own. She quickly became friends with our students - and with us. Kunduz is gorgeous, smart, considerate, and of a gentle spirit. Eighteen at the time, she already spoke five languages fluently. We soon adopted her as another daughter.

After returning home, Jim worked hard to get Kunduz accepted at, and to attend, St. Benedict's. (She is currently attending Miami of Ohio instead as they have a better International Business program.) But, in the course of applying to St. Ben's, many emails crossed between Jim and Kunduz or her father. In every exchange, there was an invitation, "You should come to Kyrgyzstan." We thought, "How often do we have a invitation to go to Kyrgyzstan?" so we said yes!

Now, we're in Kyrgyzstan and have met Rysbek, his wife Jyldyz, and Kunduz' older twin sisters. Both of them have the same attributes as Kunduz - gorgeous, smart, etc. etc. Each of them has daughters of her own: Anara has one daughter named Teligay. (Pictured here are Anara, Teligay, and Jyldyz). Chinara has two daughters.

I reflect on a favorite Greg Brown song of mine called: "A Man Who's Rich in Daughters", and I think of Rysbek. He truly is rich.

Hot Air Ballooning at Dawn/ Bishkek at Night

One of my favorite memories of our trip will be our 30th anniversary night on July 12. We had arranged for a "home-cooked" Turkish meal at 7:30 p.m. at our hotel. Jim and I returned from our all day tour around 7, fairly exhausted. But, a quick shower and change of clothes later, we joined Beth, Mark and Leon on the terrace.

It was a beautiful, clear night. We drank wine and shared memories of our wedding day with Beth. We were toasted and feted. Leon, Mark and Beth then surprised us with a present - a hot air balloon ride, scheduled for the next morning! What a gift.

Our transport to the balloon site arrived at 5:45 a.m. the next morning. We join several others already in the van and went up a hilltop launch site. There, four balloons are being inflated with huge propane heaters. Once filled with hot air, all five of us climb into one of four baskets tied to the balloon.

Our pilot stands in the middle of the four baskets. He's from England, and flies hot air balloons in Goreme, Cappadocia in the summer and Burma in the winter. He says most people work 9 to 5, but he prefers his 5 to 9 schedule. According to him, thirteen years ago, there was only one hot air balloon company in Goreme. But due to the unique beauty of this landscape, there are now dozens. And we see them. As the sun rises, so do the balloons. One by one, balloons of every hue start drifting across the horizon; we count over twenty-five. Soon, we are sailing, too!

Our ride lasts about an hour. We dip down into the same Love Valley that we walked two days before, then rise over farm fields, rock chimneys, and fairylike hills. The morning light sparkles. We see forever. We land right where the crew is, manuveur ourselves out of the basket, and enjoy flutes of champagne. What a perfect last morning in Goreme!

The rest of the day is spent traveling to Kyrgyzstan. Earlier, Jim had sent Kunduz a note saying that since we were arriving so late (after 1:00 a.m.), we would take a taxi to the hotel and meet her father in the morning. Kunduz replied that she wouldn't even pass that note along - that he would want to meet us upon arrival. And, he did. We left passport control, and there were three gentlemen with a hand-printed sign saying "Jim", and bouquets of roses for Beth and me. Kunduz's father Rysbek was one; the other two were Kunduz' brother-in-law and and a dear family friend named Babur.

We arrive at our hotel at 3 a.m., and fall into bed - grateful for the bed, but mostly for great friends.

Hamam

The last night in Cappadocia, Jim and I arranged for a traditional Turkish steam bath, or hamam. Our hotel owner arranged for us to go to one that has operated continuously for 300 years in a nearby town.

Let me give you just a taste of our experience. At 8:30 p.m., Jim and I are the only customers. We are shown to a small dressing room where we undress and wrap ourselves in pestimals - red thin, long cloths. We go into the central domed area, where we douse ourselves with water from basins set around the room. We are directed to the steam room (similar to a Finnish sauna) and sit in there until we are steaming.

Our masseuse shows up and our eyes grew rounder. If I were casting a Hollywood film with a steambath scene, he would get the part! He had a thick, dark mustache and curly black hair. Jim commented that his other job must be as a middle linebacker with the Oakland Raiders. He was about 6 foot 3, 260 pounds, with not an ounce of fat.

He gives us each a massage in turn. After pouring HOT water over you, he scrubs you with a coarse cotton mitten. (I thought it was a wire brush; Jim thought it was sandpaper). This loosens any dirt, and my top skin layer actually came off in tight, little rolls. He rinses you off in HOT water for a second time. He pours tons of soapy suds all over your body, and starts the massage. Our bodies must tell tales, because he spends more time on Jim’s middle back and more time on my neck and shoulders. When our massage was done, he shampooed our hair. After a final HOT rinse, we swim in a cool pool under a domed ceiling.

And, the experience was still not over. We are given dry, blue pestimals to change into, then big Turkish towels are wrapped around our shoulders and heads. Led to a carpet lined sofa, we are given hot tea to sip. Last, lemon oil is splashed on our hands and, via gestures, we’re told to rub it into our skin.

It is after 11:00 p.m. as we ooze out onto the street. Jim and I look at each other. Has this really happened? Unforgettable!

Underground City

Mark, Leon, Beth, Jim and I all got to the underground city at Derinkuyu via different routes. Jim and I joined a tour today - an all day tour that went to the underground city, the beautiful Ilhala Valley, and an old monastery. Meanwhile, Beth and Leon rented a car; Mark a motorcycle. (Leon and Beth said that driving down the road in their own vehicles was "living in high cotton" and Mark never stopped grinning.)

But, the central destination for all of us was this underground city capable of housing a thousand people. These underground tunnel systems served many purposes through the ages. Our guide said that the first two layers were probably carved by Hittites 4000 years ago for food storage and animal livery. The deeper layers (we went down eight levels) were carved 2000 years ago by early Christians as safe havens from invading Persian troops or even marauding traders who wanted their absidian tools.

The whole city was subterranean - and couldn't be easily attacked. There were multiple, secret entrances hidden on the surface. People had to enter in single file. They had carved huge round stones weighing up to 1000 kilograms that they could roll in front of doorways and totally seal themselves off. Vertical shafts of 85 meters deep provided fresh air. Horizontal shafts that carried sound allowed them to communicate with other cities.

Archeologists believe that there are over 100 underground cities in this area; fourteen are open to visit. While they were intended only for temporary shelter, they were sophisticated, with different levels for cooking, wine making, animal care, housing, etc. The one we explored could hold up to 1000 people alone for up to 2 weeks.

The Land of Beautiful Horses

When Persia ruled Turkey, this area was famous for its horses; in fact, we've been told that the name Cappedocia means the land of beautiful horses. It's only appropriate then that Goreme has a "horse whisperer" --- and that Leon would want to meet him.

His name is Ekrem Ilhan. The local stories say that he goes to Mt. Erciyes and captures wild horses from a herd of over 400 roaming there. He gentles them with kind words, "carrots and cucumbers". I expected him to be an old man. While I was at the Dark Church, Jim and Leon went to seek him out. He turned out to be a 30-something man with long, black hair. When Leon asked him about his horses, he responded that his horses' rides were so smooth, "you could drink a cup of tea while riding horseback" (which is how Leon describes his own horses, almost verbatim). Leon exclaimed, "You've got gaited horses!" Leon proceeded to entertain him by tying a knot in a belt and a rope using only one hand. The horse whisperer invited Leon for a private ride, because "it would be an honor to ride with someone who actually knows horses."

Jim told me later than Leon was dragging when they entered the corral because (like mad dogs and Englishmen) we had been out in the noon-day sun, but that, "Leon skipped all the way back to hotel."

New Posts

For anyone following this blog, I should mention that we have returned to Istanbul after an unforgettable week in Kyrgyzstan with Kunduz' family. Because I'm trying to write this somewhat chronologically, you'll notice that I'm behind. (Bear with me, I'll get all the experiences down within a week.)

Also, you should know that I published today a new post about Ephesus that appears very early (about the 4th post in what would now be "older posts.") To entice you to go back to it, you should know that it contains a picture of Connie, Jim, and Leon sitting on a 2000 year old latrine! (That should jump-start your imagination.)

Fairy Chimney Inn

We are staying at the Fairy Chimney Inn, high up in the town of Goreme. This magical area of fairy chimneys was created via volcanic eruptions. The first layers of lava were comprised of fairly soft material; later, hotter lava from closer to the center of earth poured over the top, comprised of basalt and iron. As rivers started flowing through the region, the top harder layers stayed intact, while the lower levels were carved away into very interesting shapes - mushrooms, parts of the male anatomy, etc. People simply carved out rooms, or caves, for dwelling places. Early Christians also carved out many churches.

We are staying in caves ourselves; Mark and Beth are especially delighted with their accommodation. The Fairy Chimney Inn is run by a German anthropologist and his Turkish wife. They have attempted to keep things as authentic as possible (while adding modern plumbing). The rooms are beautifully decorated, with simple furniture, cushions and rugs everywhere. They bought the hotel 30 years ago. It was in total disrepair, but they've gradually upgraded every cave. We asked whom they bought it from, and I loved the answer. They said that the government of Turkey owns all the rock, but you were able to buy the caves from them "because there is no rock there."

The first day we walked through Love Valley to get to the Open Air Museum to see the fresco-covered churches. My personal favorite was the Dark Church. Because this church cave was completely covered for years, with little light reaching the frescos, they have the most vivid colors. I was especially interested in how early Christians depicted their biblical stories/ beliefs. A few of the paintings seemed to show Jesus as a youth (an era that is often skipped over in my religious training). And, I thought it interesting that the magi were shown as riding in on horses (every picture of the manger scene I've ever seen has always had them with camels.)

The Overnight Bus Ride

After our final breakfast on board, we disembark from the Metro Star on July 10. We hug our crew good-bye, and invite them to America.

We hang around Fethiye – eating lunch, picking out and up sunglasses! After trying on sunglasses in one store, we continue shopping, then sit down for lunch. Mark looks at Beth, and says "Did you buy those?" Beth's appalled to find that her own sunglasses are on the top of her head, and she's still wearing the $180 Ray-Bans! (We reluctantly return them.)

We board our overnight bus to Cappadocia at 4:00 p.m. Leon avers this is the last overnight bus ride of his life! None of us slept much, but this night bus ride gave us a microcosm of Turkish life. First, you see the beauty and variety of the countryside. Small tea stands dot the road's edge. Fellow drivers range from BMW's to horse drawn carts. You also realize that other drivers are civil; the roads are in good condition (unlike the bus that needs shocks!) The bus has a TV on, set to an all-soap opera channel. Just imagine –hurtling through the night, no shocks, and constant TV!

My favorite memory from this part of the trip is the military good-bye we saw in Fethiye. All Turkish men must serve 15 months in the service. I was told that over 1 million currently serve. In this town, three men were leaving for the service. One family, individually and collectively, were openly weeping. Another family stood to the side, quietly snapping family pictures. The third brought music: a pipe and a drum. First, the males in the family circle danced; then a few women; then more. I was invited to dance, and did so immediately. It was a bittersweet, “snapshot” of real life.

The five of us arrived in Cappadocia, sleep deprived, at 4:30 a.m. We descended into the fairyland of caves and stone chimneys. After luckily being able to check into our rooms, we gathered on the rooftop and watched the predawn flights of hot air balloons, before falling happily into our beds.

Calm

Gullet: Day 6. After our wild ride of last night and this morning, the rest of the day went by peacefully. Mark and Beth and Leon and Jim separately explored our new island; their favorite part was Cleopatra Beach. I spent their hiking time getting some of my memories down on paper; then, I went snorkeling through a nearby ruin sticking half in/ half out of the water. I had forgotten how much I enjoy the undersea world.

I should mention the meals on board. The Captain’s mom is our cook. She makes wonderful traditional Turkish meals, with lots of garlic, lemon juice, and olive oil. The meals are heavy on vegetables (yum!), and fish. Fresh fruit (melon and peaches) are our dessert. This may sound as if we are eating healthy, but it’s so good that I eat twice what I do at home. (I pity my horse in Kyrgyzstan.)

We each try a few new foods; here's Leon trying seaweed salad.

One night we celebrated the Captain's birthday- is 39th. We sat together and had birthday cake and raki. (It was a Muslim holy day, but he "forgot" so that he could drink with us.) We presented the Captain a T-shirt with the map of Minnesota on it. He immediately put it on.

Beth as Goddess

Beth has a group of friends who refer to each as Goddesses. So, for them. I need to post some proof. First, a picture is worth a thousand words.

You should also know we have ended some days with gratitudes - a practice of theirs where they recount their favorite memories of the day. One set of gratitudes concerned how much we enjoy having Beth on this trip. She not just beautiful. She is fun-loving and adventurous. She is sensitive. She is someone with whom it is so comfortable sharing feelings, family stories - even vulnerabilities. With another kind of person, we'd have to stifle ourselves. Not with Beth. She's a true goddess.

Mr. Toad's Wild Ride

Ride, part 1: A two-part adventure, Mr. Toad’s wild ride started after we left the harbor by the Dalyan river. The Captain’s mother (our cook) gets seasick, and always comes up on deck when we move. Today the wind was up. Her face started to look alarmed when she spotted the first white-cap. Soon there were many more. The boat bucked like a mechanical bull and we were all riders, some unwillingly. Leon was whooping and laughing like Slim Pickins in Dr. Strangelove. I had no problem with my stomach, and was not anxious at all even when the table, chairs, cushions, and candles slid across the deck. (We caught everything.) However, when a big wave washed across the front deck, even I gulped down a small scream. When we finally made our ‘safe harber’ – an idlyic Asher Bay – Leon cried out, “God, that was fun!”

The respite: Asher Bay is full of interesting seacaves, but we were all too shaken to go for a swim. Instead, we ate our crab and fish dinner back on the boat in the moonlight, and had much to remember about the day. Tonight is the Captain’s birthday; he’s 39. Jim and I present him was a Minnesota t-shirt which he immediately puts on. Mark and Beth give him a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge, which he and his mother really liked. All of us sit together and sing “happy birthday” in both English and Turkish, as a five layer chocolate cake is brought out. We feel like family. Life is good.

Ride, part 2. The Captain had said last night that we needed to leave the harbor before 9:30 a.m. as the sea gets choppier later in the day. At 5:45 a.m., we hear the engine starting and realize that the boat is rocking, even in this sheltered cove. All the rest of us are up on deck; I decide to get dressed first. It was a weird feeling. Our portholes were closed and latched, but the water level often reached the middle of the porthole. I was tossed about a bit, and it felt to me as if I was inside a washing machine, looking out! Once again, I positioned myself at the rail – better view of the ride – and held our cook’s hand. While choppy, it wasn’t as bad as yesterday. I think about my young grandparents crossing the Atlantic, and have a much better appreciation of what that journey had been.

We moor at last next to a ruin standing in the water nicknamed Cleopatra’s Bath. That’s when Jim christened this part of the trip “Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.”

Ruins, Tombs, and Buffoons

Day 5 on the gullet – Today we saw Byzantine castles, seascapes of raw natural beauty … and droves of tourists. We rented a smaller boat for the day to take us up the Dalyan river. The river snakes through bullrush country – in places, the bullrushes are taller than our heads.

We stop first at a crabbing boat. For us tourists, they throw a crab on a string into the water and try to get the giant loggerhead turtles to surface. These sea turtles are considered to date back 95 million years. (Not these exact ones, of course!) We get our glimpse when one smallish one goes after the crab. This is their egg-laying season, so the estuary is restricted from boat traffic at night. Of course, while we are there the crabbers try to sell us some crab. These are Turkish blue crabs, and we buy 5 for our cook to make this evening. We leave the crabbers and head from seawater into the fresh water of the river.

We first stop at the ruins of Kaunos. They are currently excavating this site and estimate that they have uncovered about 20%, with more buried deeper and wider. What we see is Byzantine (eastern Orthodox Christian era). While smaller than the site at Ephesus, it covers a large expanse. This is a more beautiful setting -- set high and terraced into a hillside. There are a Byzantine church here, another ampitheater, roman bath, housing, etc. I try to imagine how the ancient people must have abandoned the site intact – and it’s more apparent here than in Ephesus why. You can see how the sea once reached this spot creating a natural harbor. As it filled with silt, the sea subsided, leaving only the estuary behind.

Further upriver, we encounter the tombs of Kaunos. These burial sites are carved into shear vertical rockface. They are tombs of Lycian kings (early Greek period). How they were carved, I have NO idea! We wonder whether slaves were used, and how many died. You cannot climb to or in the tombs, but only gaze upon them. They go six meters into the hills, and are striking. We have lunch in the town of Dalyan, in a café set along the river and directly across from the tombs. An oasis in the heat. We comment on the hundreds of the kind of boat we are using today, and try to estimate the numbers of tourists they carry. We wonder if this place was entirely different even as recent as 10 years ago.

After lunch, we saw where most of the tourists were going. Upriver is a natural mud bath and hot springs area. Of course, all of 5 of us decide to get dirty. I imagined a tranquil setting. Instead, there is almost a production line of tourists. The mud bath is a swimming pool sized rectangle of muddy water. We smear ourselves and each other with mud from the bottom. Then, we stand in the sun to “bake.” (It’s interesting to see as the mud dries, a camoflague effect is created on our faces and bodies.) You shower the mud off before going in the hot spring, but even so it looked and felt dirty. Also swimming pool size with lots of people in it, Jim remarked, “It’s like taking a weekly Saturday night bath in a family of 100, and your turn is 99th.” It wasn’t a place to laze and relax! We showered off, and set back to the boat. (In fairness, my skin did feel a lot softer.)

If Your Cousin Jumped Off a Cliff, Would You?

Gullet: Day 3. In February, Mark sent each of us an email about one thing he really wanted to do while in Turkey – paragliding off a mountaintop. The region around Feyithe is known as one of the premier spots, with warm air currents rising from the sea. He asked if any of us was interested. Cousin Leon replied immediately, “I’ve done a lot of things in my day – flying an ultralight, being in a submarine, but there is NO WAY I’m jumping off a cliff.” So, today Leon, Mark, and I went paragliding.

The journey up the mountain takes 45 minutes on narrow, switchback trails. We ride in an open, two-level land rover. The views back to the town are stunning. We arrive with a sudden lurch at the top of this mountain. The large area is smooth paving stones; there is an ambulance parked nearby (not a good sign). We are partner jumping; my guide has been doing this for 18 years. Each of us is strapped into something that looks like a baby carrier; our partner is strapped right behind us. The chute is long and narrow, not round. They wait for the air currents to start it billowing up, and tell us to take a few steps. You take about five steps and suddenly your feet are churning in air. Mark is already in the air; I look back to see Leon starting off.

My partner takes off my helmet. A breeze wafts your face and hair, but the descent doesn’t feel fast, doesn’t feel like falling. It feels as if you are sitting in an easy chair. You see 360 degree panorama – of the blue lagoon bay (and it is blue), of several mountains and valleys that lie between. The trip down takes 19 minutes. The worst part: My partner smokes a cigarette while we are up there; I try to tell him “this is a no smoking flight.” The best part: I hear a “call to prayers” as we pass over a valley. Yes, I think, everything is a miracle.

Other highlights of today:
• We climb St. Nicholas Island to watch the sunset this evening. There are three early Christian church ruins here, and St. Nicholas, on which Santa Claus in based in part, is believed to have lived here for a time. The other four climb to the top of the island; I find a good viewing spot for the sunset and perch. I watch swallows swooping down, catching insects in midflight. The sun sets as I think about our son Nicholas.
• Raki. Jim and Beth purchased a bottle of Raki while we were off gliding. We all share it this evening. A clear liquor, when mixed with water, Raki turns cloudly and milky. In fact, its nickname is Lion’s Milk. It is Turkey’s most known drink; it tastes similar to ouzo in Greece. (While a Muslim country, many people drink alcohol here, but observe Muslim holidays by refraining.)
• Conversation deep into the night. We sit in the candlelight and talk about religion, marriage, who we are. We are stunned to think we have been gone less than a week, and have already had more experiences, deep conversations, and quiet reflections in these 6 days than in the previous 60.

A Whale of a Day

Gullet: Day 4. Our boat starts out early this morning, and I am in my usual spot --up front, right side, on the deck. The other four are back in the rear talking and reading. The mist is thick this morning, and we are moving through it silently. As it happened, when I was packing for this trip, I grabbed my small notebook from a spirituality weekend I went to five years before. I was rereading Chuck Lofy’s thoughts. Chuck envisions our inner self, not as a single point of light, but as a whole landscape of hills and valleys, some lit, some dark. If we are to really know ourselves, we must examine both the good and the bad. Just as I was reading these notes, we enter Butterfly Valley. I watch the mist lift inch by inch – unveiling a beautiful valley of high hills and crags, some sunlit, some dark. How appropriate. What was totally in mist, is now in light.

Jim, Beth and I choose to explore the valley. It's filled with flowers! A few butterflies alight. It is still early; the valley is quiet, tranquil. A bohemian set of folks camp at the base of the valley. “Quiet” signs are posted, “meditation in progress”. Jim and Beth continue up the valley to the top and find a waterfall for Beth to “shower” in. I can view the waterfall, but find a place lower down that says, “Here is good.” I sit and listen to the silence. I fall in love with this valley.

Unfortunately, as we return to the boat, we find that tour companies have poured in. The boats crank up their music, the bohemians hawk their crafts, and the spell is broken. I am grateful that we arrived with first light – and experienced a morning full of awe.

We left Butterfly Valley and headed for Rabbit Island. Along the way, a few of us were in deep conversation, when I spotted something big move in the water. I turned to Jim and said, “I just saw a really big fish.” We looked – and there were two whales. We begged the captain to stop and turn around, and we watched the whales swim, spout off, dive and surface. We followed them, or they followed us, for about 15 minutes. We were all thrilled. Jim, being Jim, immediately googled “whales of Turkey” and decided that what we had seen were “pilot whales.” None of us was expecting whale watching as a part of this gig. Cool!

We stayed that night at Rabbit Island. The best part of our mooring spot was a small, semicircular sea cave. Mark, Beth, Jim and I each took turns swimming through the cave. We sat up long into the night; Beth asked us to list our favorite highlights of the day. We had many!

The Green Mosque

Everyone has heard about the Blue Mosque in Istanbul, but Jim, Beth, Mark, and Leon got a first hand experience at the Green Mosque. Intrigued? -- read on...

Our second day on the Metro Star started with snorkeling in Lighthouse Bay. While looking down at a partial wall in the water, Mark and I each saw an eel swim by. Mostly, we swam amid schools small black fish.

The wind was up as we left, so we had "sails up." I had really wanted this - I love the sensation of moving through water silently. (It turns out this may have been the only time we'll get to sail.)

A highlight of the day was stopping for a swim at Stepbi Bay. The captain recommended that we climb up the hill. Everyone went except me. Up there, they encountered an imam, a Muslim religious leader; he invited them in to his home. They were served sage tea and talked. He became an imam by going to imam school for seven years after secondary school. His area is an area with 20 families; the mosque there is small and painted green. He lived in a simple house - He had a small windmill and a solar panel; the energy was saved in a 12-volt battery, enough to power a few lights --and his satellite dish! He raises goats and grows figs, olives, and apricots.

When they came back to the boat and explained this to me, Jim said, "He didn't live that far up the hill. I expected that 80 zillion tourists would be trouping up there, but he said few did. Leon said "He seemed lonely." Most people come to the cove, swim, and leave (like me). Only a few lucky ones get to experience "sage tea with a sage."

The Metro Star

Ever since my friend Bob Stone said that his favorite vacation was sailing on a wooden sailing ship off the Turkish coast, I’ve “harbored” an interest in doing the same.

After a five hour bus ride beautiful bus ride between Selcuk and Gocek, Leon, Jim, and I met up with Beth and Mark. We boarded our gullet on the Fourth of July. Her name is the Metro Star, and she is a wooden beauty. We have three crew: Our captain, our cook (who is the captain's mother), and a deck hand. The Captain helped build the ship himself—including rounding the masts from square Russian olive trunk timbers. These were not small trees; the main mast is 23 meters.

The first night we motored a fairly short distance, then dropped anchor in a bay of crystal clear, cobalt blue water. Each of us took a swim. (Beth and I took several.) We had a delicious seafood/fresh fish supper, then sat up talking- swapping old family stories and making new ones.

The bad news – It is quite hot for sleeping. No air conditioning, the portholes in our cabin provide only sporadic, anemic wafts of air. The good news - the heat drives me up on deck at 2:30 a.m. The night sky is amazing. It reminds me of a camping trip about 10 years ago. Jim took Emily to the bathroom in the middle of the night. As they crawl back into our tent, they are both gushing and we’ve always remembered Emily’s line, “I never knew there were so many stars!” I feel the same.

Leon is already up here sleeping on one bench. I spread out on another. Life is good. Good night.

John and Mary - Selcuk

Literally across the street from Hotel Bella is the Basilica of St. John’s. It was erected in the 6th century A.D. on the gravesite of apostle John (author of the fourth gospel and possibly Revelations). It is believed that he also brought Mary, the mother of Jesus, to this area at the end of her life. Many secondary sources mention that she is buried in this area.

I imagine John, Paul, or Mary walking on the same street that I just walked, and marvel.

3 days & we’ve already bought a rug

Unless you buy on the street (not recommended), looking at carpets for possible purchase in Turkey is a cultural experience all in itself. There are usually three distinct phases: you are offered a place to sit down and a beverage, usually apple tea which is akin to hot apple cider. You chat about ordinary topics. Only then are you shown the carpets. (From my perspective, you are educated about the carpets.) We’ve experienced two showings: one at a cooperative in Istanbul partially funded by the World Bank, and one in the shop hotel in Selcuk (recommended by other travelers). Here are a few tidbits:

The first known weaving has been traced back to Turkey from the 5th century B.C. Turkish carpets are meant to be walked on, not displayed. Turkey is the only nation with double-knotted rugs. The knots are tied in such a way that the more you walk on the carpet, the tighter the knots get. The value of a carpet is determined by two things: the quality of the wool and the quality of the dyes. My sister Sharon will appreciate this next part: the finest wool comes from lambs’ chin and chest! (I thought to myself – Yea, right. How much wool could be there? As we raised sheep on our farm, I knew that the volume of wool is on the back. But several oral and written sources have now repeated this.) The wool is finer diameter from those areas.

What is our rug like? Well, as Jim would say, we couldn’t afford a new rug, so we bought a used one. And, in truth, we bought a rug that is certified as sixty years old. The owner of the shop in Selcuk goes on buying trips each winter and literally buys rugs off people’s floors. These are considered tribal rugs. Each region has their own unique dyes and designs. If a family stops weaving carpets, that family’s pattern becomes extinct. We really liked this guy – he had no pressure sales. I loved this line, though – “I beg your pardon, but you will die before this rug wears out. It will outlast your great grandchildren.” My picture didn’t turn out very well, so you’ll just have to come visit us to see this rug. It’ll be in the front hall of our home.

Leon is a people magnet

If you consider Jim, Mark, Beth and I friendly, you haven’t seen cousin Leon in action! Before we left Hotel Bella, Jim and I started conversations with several other residents, but Leon knew everyone there.

As Jim, Leon and I were eating supper together our last night in Selcuk, Leon said, “Just a minute.” Shortly thereafter James joined our table. “I hate to see someone eating alone,” Leon explained.

There’s an old Buddhist saying, “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.” In our case, Jim, Leon, and I had visited Ephesus that day – an ancient site with ruins from the Greek, Roman, and Byzantine eras. We were realizing that we had forgotten what little we knew about the early periods of Turkey (Asia Minor). Voila. It turned out that James was a Master’s student in archeology from Canada.

Here’s some of the knowledge we gleaned over our spicy meatballs and fish: Since Turkey is at the junction of two continents, it has been home to many cultures and peoples. In fact, it may be the home of the first city ever in 6500BC! James “specializes” in the 550-490 B.C. period, so before and after that is “not his time.” But here are a few tidbits from our conversation that I found especially interesting.

• The Hittites were here from as early as 2000 B.C. Their influence waned after the destruction of Troy around 1200 B.C.

• James says that 1200-700 B.C. is considered a 500 year Dark Period. Mysterious “sea people” came and destroyed towns and dispersed the people. Most settlements were abandoned, with the exception of mountaintop villages. He said that no one has concluded who these “sea people” were. (I joked that they were probably pirates from off the coast of Somalia. Jim surmised that they were Swedish Vikings. Neither of us knew what we were talking about.)

• 700-400 B.C. are Ioanian and Persian periods. James said that this is his personal favorite because it is so “interesting yet frustrating.” Why frustrating? - because no primary written sources exist, and the secondary sources conflict. Why interesting? – “ It’s all a puzzle yet to be put together.” (Homer is believed to have been born in Smyrna, Turkey during this period.)

• 333 B.C. Alexander the Great conquers the area, and the Greek period begins.

• 120 B.C. The area becomes part of the Roman Empire. By 50 A.D. St. Paul (who also was born within the boundaries of present-day Turkey) was back preaching “the good news.” A sizable Christian community developed here with apostle John staying on. When the Catholic church split into the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox arms, Turkey was Eastern Orthodox, and the Byzantine era began.

* By 1450 A.D. Constantinople falls to the Ottomans. I’ve already written about Ataturk – and the end of the Ottoman sultanate in 1923 – so our history lesson ends with dessert.

I lay in bed after that dinner and think about how YOUNG our country is.

The World Cup on the terrace

I could get used to terrace lıvıng. In Turkey, a terrace ıs not on ground level, but on the roof. We've been ın Turkey three nıghts so far, and every day we've spent part of ıt on the terrace. From there you can watch the sunrıse, eat your meals, and watch the sunset. There are no bugs. I may never come down.

Here at the Hotel Bella ın Selcuk, the terrace floor ıs lıned wıth beautıful turkısh carpets - and the seatıng all around ıs carpeted as well. Last evenıng (July 3), there were about twenty folks sıttıng there, talkıng all together, and watchıng the World Cup on the small TV ın the corner. We come from the USA, Australıa, Turkey, and Canada. Spaın scores a goal, and a cheer rıngs out. We represent our own "world cup."

At 10:00 p.m. fıreworks lıght up the sky. How approprıate, I thınk, as I know many of my famıly wıll be watchıng fıreworks back ın the USA tonıght and tomorrow. "Why the fıreworks?" I ask. Our host replıes that fıreworks are a tradıtıon of weddıng celebratıons here. As we speak, another set bursts ınto the sky from another dırectıon. "Two weddıngs tonıght," he says, and goes back to watchıng the World Cup.

Ephesus

Today (July 3), Leon, Jım and I went to Ephesus, while Mark and Beth stayed on in Istanbul. Ephesus ıs the best preserved ancıent cıty I've ever seen. How ancıent? Archeologists tell us the fırst cıty of Ephesus was establıshed ın 10th or 11th century B.C.! At its height, the area ultımately grew to over 250,000 people, makıng ıt the second largest cıty after Rome in the Roman empire.

I couldn't belıeve ıts architectual desıgn - many buıldıngs contained methods for runnıng water, heated floors (stoked by fıres below), and refrıgeratıon. You see us here demonstrating the public toilets, which had continuously running water below the seats - and water in front of each seated person in which to wash your hands. Our guide told us that in the winter, wealthy people would have their slaves come sit on the marble seats first to warm them up!

The library pictured here was started in 110 A.D., and at one time held over 12000 books (which were destroyed.)