Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Fireworks, Firearms, and Fire: Photos

Internet at our student housing is very slow and a lot of sites are blocked as well as posting pictures. Luckily Yale VPN gets me through that, but slow internet means pictures take hours to load. The full album for the village wedding is here if you'd like to see more pictures!
We so village

View from the water house

Tim dancing it up with Crazy Grandpa

Like a real man. Check out that shotgun shell

My new pyromaniac friend, Ibrahim

Ayten!

Fire? What fire? Oh THAT fire...
Basically sums up the night.
Luckily the sheep escaped its bindings before I decided to become vegetarian

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Fireworks, Firearms, and Fire

[This post was written on my laptop in the car on the way home from the village. Apologies for the length, I just had to tell it all!]
 
 This wedding was one of the most fun and crazy experiences I have ever had. Turkish people are insane and the partying bordered riot levels. 

We woke up yesterday morning and it was immediately obvious that we had jumped a little past the “just guest” mode. Yasmin shooed us downstairs and it was obvious that she was trying to get us to hurry. I can only imagine how busy she was with all the events going on. We went downstairs and to the open tent in the driveway area and sat down next to all the uncles and cousins at a table filled with all our favorite village breakfast foods. We chowed down on nutella, hazelnut better, tomatoes and cucumbers honey and of course bred cheese and sausage things. Soon we found out that the groom was to have the ceremony of blessing the grooms clothes. The men ran about all yelling about who was going in which car and I think they were also running late. Tim and I slipped into one of the cars and we headed to the village mosque. Once we got there the groom and his best man went inside. I was unsure whether or not I should go in, but a grandpa motioned for Tim and I to come in. We took off our shoes, as is custom, and walked in. At the front of the mosque the groom and his best man sat with the imam with a small pile of clothes, a jacket, head covering and arm band thing. As a few more uncles filed in we took our seats right next to the grandpa that had led us in and watched as the Imam blessed the clothing, waving each article around the groom’s head three times. He said Mohamed, so I’m guessing it was a blessing from Mohamed or something. After the clothes were blessed everyone began to pray. Again, I was unsure what I was supposed to do. The men had all lifted their hands in prayer and started chanting. Mehmet, our bus driver, was in a different part of the mosque and just gestured for me to copy the hands so I did. I just sat quietly and in my head thought of some good wishes for the groom and then did the motion of washing over the face just like the other men. Hamza told me later that they were praying that the groom and bride have a lifetime of sharing the same cushion, so I figure I was at least thinking along the same lines.


After the praying was done, the groom went around and thanked the guests he shook all of our hands and we did the customary forehead touching where you touch temples with the other person. As we left the mosque the imam announced something over the loudspeaker system and the first shots were fired by a man sitting outside his window right by the mosque. The groom and his best man went around the village and visited different relatives. The custom is that they give him their blessing and slip money into his pockets. We saw different people slipping money into his pants at the mosques. At the end of the day he empties his pockets and sees how much he got. I think this style of giving is great because it keeps the sentiment without making things awkward when comparing amounts from different relatives.

Tim and I returned to Yasmin’s house with Hamza and met up with the girls just as they were finishing up breakfast. We decided we’d spend the morning going around the village with Hamza. As we walked around Hamza explained to us what it was like growing up in the village and what his shepherding days were like. He pointed out the different mountains and which ones areas belonged to which “tribes”. Apparently it was all divided into different territories for different family groups. He recounted a story about catching a bunch of kids from another tribe playing in his tribe’s lake and then messing with them by throwing all their clothes in the water. Inter-group conflict happened, but didn’t sound like the gang fights were too bad. We wandered over to Hamza’s mom’s house and to the neighbors who lived behind. The man of the household was one of the last shepherds in the village. Hamza told us that as the years went by the village became more and more modern. The nearby town of Niglde opened up a university and immediately the standard of living rose, education and literacy levels jumped and the economy boosted up. This shepherd was definitely older. Hamza started shepherding when he was 14, but this man was in his 50s or 40s. We took turns trying to milk the sheep. The women usually do the milking and were able to show us a little bit of their skill. I was almost tried into trying to milk a male sheep, but I caught on before trying to do anything. Chelsea was pooped on when she was milking her sheep.

After the milking fun, we headed up towards the mountains that Hamza used to shepherd in. Along the way up we passed many homes with fruit trees that hung over the house walls. Hamza

I remember Yukiko was telling us that the Turkish people and the environment have a really bad relationship. The Turkish farmers have agricultural techniques that dry up the land because it drastically lowers the water tables. From what I’ve seen so far on our road trips I don’t find that hard to believe. Yukiko told us that Turkey is naturally supposed to have 70% of the land under forest cover. Because o f the poor use of water, only 12% remains forested. On the way to the village we stopped at a lake, which was apparently a beautiful site that a lot of locals liked to stop at for the foliage and lake scene. I’d call it more of a pond with a few trees. I would love to take Hamza and some of the villagers to Clark Lake. 


Anyways, we went to the water house. Hamza and a few of the students walked up to the top of the hill, but Yukiko and some students and I sat on the roof of the house, enjoying the nice breeze and lazing about. The sky was mostly cloudy but every so often the clouds would break and we could get a few seconds of sun. Ayla complained that she wanted her dad and proceeded to walk halfway up the hill before we convinced her to stop and wait for the dad to come back down. We got called back to Yasmins for lunch so we headed back.

Lunch was delicious, as usual. We got back and the drive way area was lined with tables and chairs. There were a solid group of around 40 people, but there were plenty of chairs so I wasn’t worried. Yukiko told use that we ‘d better save seats for them or else they would go fast. I grabbed a seat while people went inside for the bathroom and I laid a few of my stuff over chairs. Within a few minutes a small group of boys came over to me and starting talking to me. Using my limited Turkish, I was able to figure out their names and ages. I looked down the table to see that everyone had started sitting down. Somehow a ton of people had come in and the seats were filling up fast. I shooed away the boys out of the other students’ seats and we had a great lunch. 

Afterward we realized we were all dead tired and went up into the house to the living room area to rest for a bit. Originally I think we were just planning on sitting, but we ended up all falling asleep on the carpeted seats. Helen and I were the last two to wake up around 4, and after grumbling for a bit decided we’d go outside and check out what was happening. Within 30 minutes of waking up from the nap I was dragged into dancing with the groom and a series of uncles and elderly grandpas. A live band played music the whole day and the relatives kept dragging us to more and more dances. I guess I can dance rather well. The girls separated from us, the men danced under the tent and the girls danced at the side of the house. Several times relatives would put money in our mouths between our teeth.  The money went to the groom in the end I think. After a little bit of dancing, Hamza pulled us aside to the back of the house and let use try out his shotgun. Unlike the guns we tried out the night before this gun was real. We fired a few shots each into the mountains and laughed and hooted. Hamza then said he’d show us around a bit. 


We piled into Hamza's car,  5 people in the 3 person back seat. Hamza zoomed us around the roads and blared a variety of songs on his speakers; everything from rap to the Rolling Stones. We took turns sticking our heads out the windows and the sunroof and hollered out to random pedestrians. We ended up going into the town and buying more ammunition for the shotgun. On the way back to Yasmin’s, Hamza pulled over and we fired a few more shots. We’ve all decided that we want guns at our weddings. 

Instead of going straight to Yasmin's, we ended up going to Fatma’s house for some special tea. Hamza was with us in Istanbul on the night of our birthday party and according to Yukiko was quite the fun man himself back in the day. He was hoping to arrange a special table for us at the wedding and bought a nice collection of spirits for the occasion. At Fatma's he mixed up the very traditional Turkish limon Bacardi and Coca Cola for us in tea cups and we got well spirited and Fatma supplied us with delicious cheese made in the village. Yukiko eventually called us over for dinner and we went back to Yasmin’s.

Dinner was very windy, and I started off the meal with Yukiko’s flying soup in my lap. I quickly changed in the attic and headed back down for another great meal. After dinner we packed into the van and headed over to the bride’s town for what I thought was the dowry box and henna party. I think those are usually reserved for women, but the men said to go ahead and go and if we had to leave then we would just go somewhere else. Well we left in a convoy of cars stretching a good 20 cars deep. People honked and hooted out their car windows as we drove to and through the town. Eventually we reached a point where the streets were horribly narrow and it was easier to walk than drive so we all jumped out of the car and headed to the party. 

Yukiko warned us that the wedding would be crowded, but up until that point I didn’t really think the wedding was horribly crowded. I wasn’t pushed up against people and definitely had enough space for a personal bubble, but as we walked to the bride’s party I realized that I had just seen the groom's side. The bride’s part was in the middle of the street. Huge speakers blared live music and the mass of bodies in the middle of the street was huge. Arms and fingers flew everywhere and people swayed their hips to the rhythm. We were quickly dragged to the middle of the circle next to the groom and bride and were encouraged to dance with them. I took my turn with dancing with the bride, but I felt a little of out place. Yukiko told us later that they wanted everyone to see that foreigners had come all the way to come to the wedding and that it was considered prestigious to have us there, which is why we were pushed to the middle. Eventually it got too much for me and I escaped out to the edge with the other students and we walked over to the side of the road to sit with our feet over the wall. Some one started setting off fireworks ridiculously close. They exploded right over our heads with some pieces flying over the crowd. It was great to see all the colors, but soon we noticed that a piece fell into the dry brush and started a small fire. Slowly people gathered around the edge of the wall and watched as the fire got bigger and bigger. No one seemed to know how to put it out, some boys were even throwing in more branches into the fire. We decided that we should probably leave. Yukiko was saying that if the fire got out of hand we would probably get trampled so after a few moments of desperately getting together we started back towards the ban. Other people started back to their cars too, so we headed back. We made it half way there when the DJ announced over the loudspeakers that the fire was put out and the party was continuing. We looked at each other for a little bit and were semi-confused as to what we should do, but eventually we decided we’d go back.

The party continued with awesome music and great dancing. Again we were dragged into the middle. This time the dancing was segmented by a number of small ceremonies. One time a cake was brought out with candles and the groom and bride blew them out and fed each other some cake. Another time someone lit a firecracker sparkling fountain in the middle of the crowd and people danced around it with candles and a tray of candles and henna. Bushra and her little sister Iten grabbed blobs of henna and drew circles on our hands. Fire and hands were everywhere, but it was a lot of fun. Apparently people were getting a little feisty and antsy because the grooms’ family wasn’t getting access to the henna or something so the party moved back to the grooms house. Instead of staying there for long we decided we would get our beds set up and everything first since we were changing hoses for the night. We gathered up our backpacks and went over to Fatma’s house. After setting up our beds and things Hamza brought out some of his Mandarin flavored spirits and broke out the tea cups again. Yukiko joined us with her cup of milk and we drank and laid out on the porch under the stars watching fireworks burst over Yasmin’s house and listening to the loud music and gunshots fill the air. We ended up not making it back to the party, but still had a great time just enjoying the sounds and sights of the village. Helen sang an aria for us as we laid down and looked up at the stars.

This morning we woke up early with the sun shining in the window. We lazed about for an hour or so in the morning. Playing with Ayla and helping her pick out her outfit for the day. Breakfast was of course amazing. A neighbor came over with fresh yogurt made from the milk that was collected the day before from the same goats that we tried to milk. He also brought cucumbers from his garden. Everything was delicious and tasted so fresh. We packed up our stuff and were working on cleaning up to go over to Yasmin’s and say goodbye. Hamza turned on his car radio and we ended up having another dance party of our own on the front porch of Fatma’s house. The neighboring houses stared noticing us and we saw they were peeking out through their windows and clapping and tooting little horns. Eventually the whole mass of neighbors wandered over and watched us dancing on the porch. A little boy who was trying to get us to pay him to get a donkey for us to ride the day before broke out of the crowd and started dancing on the ground. We moved down and danced with him, Hamza switched the music to Turkish tunes and we had a few fun dance battles.

Eventually we made it over to Yasmin’s house again. We sat around for a bit and met her mom and a few other relatives who were just coming in, or who we had missed the day before. We slowly made our way out of the house, looking at the horse prepared in the backyard for the bride to ride around the village later. At one point I saw some boys bring in a sheep into the front yard area. I whipped out my camera and one of the boys motioned for me to follow and take pictures. I ended up in the under part of the house and realized that he wanted me to take pictures of the slaughtering when he pulled out a hammer of sorts and motioned that he was going to hit it on the head. Luckily the sheep somehow broke free of  its bindings and the lesson in slaughtering quickly became a mad dash out of the basement as quickly as we could. The boy shut the door behind him and I can only guess that they will take care of the sheep later. 

Hamza dragged us to the dance floor again and we danced with the groom and a few other men in circles. After some parting moves we were called over to leave and went to the van. We exchanged goodbyes and hugs and left the village for the last time. 

Now we are in the car again headed back to Gazipasa. The estimated 10 hour drive only took us 8.5 hours last time and I’m hoping for the same this time. The village is amazing and Yasmin told me t hat I had to comeback. I could only reply with my new phrase belki, maybe. I’d love to come back, but we’ll see. Yukiko says that we will be the talk of the town for the next 30 years. The foreigners who came to the wedding and danced like crazy people/ Yasmin and Ismail seem to have taken a liking for me and if I return I can only hope that my Turkish will be better so I can actually have solid conversations with them instead of sign language sessions aided with phrasebooks. Yukiko has told us stories of Yasmin as a teenager. Apparently she is one of the few older women who actually studied all the way through high school. She wears a shelvar and headscarf now, but back in the day she pushed the limit with uncovered hair and jeans. Apparently that all changed when she fell in love with Ismail and decided that she would give up all that for him. I would love to be able to have a conversation with her.

 The village is such a wonderful place, but as the rest of Turkey modernizes, it seems like they are becoming less and less important. People live in the village homes half the time and in the city the other half of the time. Young boys and girls are all running away into the city in search of better jobs and who knows what will happen to the shepherding. Hamza tells us that carpet weaving is already almost gone. Women used to hand make all their carpets, and every home had a loom, but now no one has a loom and all the carpets are machine made. Interesting how urbanization and growing economy changes this so drastically. The neighbors of Fatma just moved to the city last year for the first time, and apparently the girls all came back in skinny jeans and make up, abandoning their shelvars and head scarves. 

I’m so glad that I was able to make it back to the village for the wedding. It was truly a unique experience and one that I won’t forget. All the festivities were most definitely worth the few hours in the car. Plus now I have a few ideas for my own wedding. I just need to get a shotgun.

Friday, July 22, 2011

The Village (part 2)

Back at the village. Within the first 30 minutes we were greeted with hugs, kisses, and a delicious meal including hazelnut butter. The planned 10 hour drive only took us 8.5 hours. I didn’t get as much sleep as I was hoping, but Mehmet, our driver, requested that I sit next to him and keep him awake. I tried to use the opportunity to practice my Turkish, but the most I got were a few numbers and the word hazelnut. Mehmet spent some of the time teaching me how to sing a few Turkish songs, but of course that didn’t really stick either. It was fun though. Between attempts to learn, I asked Mehmet about his life using a multitude of gestures to communicate. Turns out Mehmet is a Greek Turk, and his great grandfather came to Turkey. He tried to tell me something about his great grandpa being very wealthy man. I think that he worked in the gasoline business. His grandpa died in an accident on the road in his gasoline car. Then His dad died when he was 58 from a heart attack. Apparently he had diabetes, “too much sugar”. I was a horrible navigator and drifted in and out of sleep, but we eventually made it to the village. 

After our amazing meal that Yasmin "threw together", the men wanted to hear one of the girls on the trip Helen sing. She wowed them with Summertime and then they had me follow up with a small portion of my Walking in Memphis. After we finished eating some of the men showed us their guns for shooting off at the wedding. The first shot rang into the night and set off a nearby car alarm. I asked to look at it for a little bit and immediately Hamza asked me if I wanted to try. Two seconds later I did two shots off the balcony, and set off the car alarm again. We took turns trying out the gun –it's a fake pistol that uses blanks only- and then moved into the living room.

One uncle played the drum and danced. Then it erupted into a full on dance party and we learned all different types of dance while they blared Turkish music. My personal favorite was the pinky dance, one in which you hook pinkies and dance around in a line with a touch step pattern. Yasmin showed us a HILARIOUS dance in which she mimed an excited man. The men and women all burst into laughter while the other students and I laughed in shocked disbelief.

We’ve only been here a few hours, but I’m so glad we could come. Hamza was saying that Yasmin and Ismail were saying if the students came, then I HAD to come. Ismail greeted me with the traditional forehead touching when I got off the bus and it felt like coming back as not just the foreigner guests but as part of the family. This is an amazing place with the kindest people and who knows when I’ll get an experience like this again, or if I ever will. Tomorrow will be a day full of gunshots, food and festivities. I’m so ready…as soon as I sleep. I'm exhausted.
First shots.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Grown-up sandboxes

Archaeology is called a destructive science. Yukiko talked about it on the first day of class as we sat on the upper floor of a restaurant in Istanbul, but it didn't fully register in my head. I made a mental note of it and glossed over the term. My first day of digging, I was horribly nervous.

Early morning tour.
We started our first day at the 5:30 call. I tried to set my phone as an alarm, but that failed and I ended up being one of the last ones on the bus. After our breakfast Rhys, one of the directors, led us on a tour of the site.


Blocks from the temple
Antiochia ad Cragum is the site of a third century Imperial temple in ancient Rough Cilica. The two directors believe that the site was used by Cilician pirates, Romans, and later the Byzantines. We got to see various parts of the roughly 5.5 square mile site including the gymnasium and a columnated street lined with structures that they believe are shops. The main project of the site right now is to figure out a way to reconstruct the Greek temple. Our session consists of a variety of students from engineers to classic majors.

Josh saves us from a scorpion.
I ws assigned to trench 009 with Jeremy, a rising junior from UC Berkeley. Neither of us really had any idea of what to do, and our instructions weren’t entirely clear. Basically we were handed a bucket of tools and a clipboard for notes with forms for different loci and told to go. Luckily Yukiko helped in guiding us through different parts. When we started digging we were so nervous. Moving dirt is one thing, but it takes on a whole new meaning when you are trying not to break pottery pieces or dirt clumps and trying to distinguish which rock pieces are important sherds and which are just rocks. Also trying to maintain a straight profile and watch out for mortar and all different sings that we didn’t even know about. Luckily Yukiko was able to show us the ropes and made us feel about digging away without being horribly careful. She told us about times she’s dug through pits and things without realizing what she was digging through. She gave us a few tips and since day one we’ve gotten a lot better at things. We don’t freak out every time a rock falls out of place and our trench stays clean, well brushed, and semi-leveled.
I got a lesson on Survey Archaeology and used the outdated gizmo to help measure elevation for a topographical map.
Our pottery jug handle
 As far as artifacts go, we’ve only uncovered a few important things: a coin from the Byzantine era and a jug handle. We've stumbled on a lot of roof tiles and random pottery sherds, but so far we've just moved a lot of dirt. Yukiko is really good at helping us identify different soil levels, and we are trying to piece together how the erosion and tumble came about by looking at how the layers of soil are stacked and start and stop at different places.
Coin!


This week has been a great introduction into Archaeology and I can't believe that we only have a week and a day left. The work is exhausting, but so rewarding when you come across something. At the top of the temple, a few other students are working on uncovering a burial. The engineering team also brought a burrowscope and starting digging in with it to try and fault a vault that they believe is under the temple.
Burrowscope!
After our first day of work.

We went to the nearby cove to swim on the second day. It's nicknamed Pirate's Cove.


Everything is so exciting, but also draining. This weekend will be a well deserved break. We are returning to the village for a TURKISH WEDDING!!!

Did I mention I'm now a foreign resident?

Monday, July 18, 2011

The Real Stuff


Just a quick photo update to match some of the stories that I brushed through in the last post.

Exploring the churches in the caves of Ilhara Valley

The cave frescoes are incredible. Some of them were horribly marred by graffiti.

Cave Hotel in Cappadocia!

Early Christian church with red painting decorations

Pots grow on trees in Cappadocia

Watching a master potter at work at a pottery factory

A real archaeologist! Catalhuyuk.

View more pictures from the Village here, and from Cappadocia here

After all these crazy adventures we are finally settling down for a little bit. For the next two weeks our class will be digging into a site in Gazipaca. The site is called Antiochia ad Cragum and is run by a professor at the University of Nebraska. We are adding a number of students to our group, including people from University of Nebraska and Clark University. They range from undergrads to PhD candidates to professors. Tomorrow morning we start at 5:30 am and will work until 1 pm with a few breaks. That'll be the schedule for the weekdays. Luckily our weekends and evenings are free. We were invited back to the village for a wedding this weekend. My fingers are crossed. It isn't every day that you are invited to a HUGE (500+ invitations sent out) traditional Turkish wedding in a rural village.

These past few weeks have been so much fun. We've been running around pretending to be "real" archaeologists, when in actuality we were basically college versions of little children playing in a playground. Unfortunately climbing up hills and crawling through caves isn't the daily life of an archaeologist. Over the next two weeks we'll get a taste of what the real stuff is like. It should be interesting. The weather here is hot and humid, unlike any of the other places in Turkey we've visited so far. The heat and dirt and long hours are going to be another adventure to say the least. Before tomorrow morning I have to finish writing my midterm... Some habits never die, even in Turkey.

The beach is 20 minutes away from me for the next 2 weeks. Check out the wipe out over the pink bucket.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Blood, sweat, tears, and a whole lotta adventure*

These past few days have been overwhelmingly amazing. All the other students and I just keep asking ourselves what we did to deserve a trip this incredible. I'm too behind in my blogging and journaling to give a full update now, but to elaborate a little more, here were some of the adventures:


7/13- Istanbul> Fesleğen Village

  • Stepping into the "healing waters" of a Salt lake on the way to the village
  • Arriving to the lovely home of Yasmin and Ismail and receiving a warm and delicious welcome dinner while seated on the ground of the balcony

7/14- Fesleğen Village 

  • Waking up to a delicious breakfast on the balcony, complete with homemade apple pastries and honeycomb
  • Visiting an obsidian source in the middle of a village full of bold and loud children who were eager for pictures 
  • Going to Market Day in the nearby town of Niglde and buying traditional village pants
  • Visiting Niglde Castle and getting special access to usually locked rooms
  • Eating an incredibly tasty village meal prepared by Hamza's mother at her abode
  • Traveling into the mountains to see the sheep grazing and the spot where they get milked
  • Following a crazy shepherd up the mountainside and into a small cave which we had to crawl in our bellies to get to.
  • Crazy shepherd lighting a small fire within the tiny cave in order to see the early Christian crosses that were carved into the ceiling. 
  • Nearly suffocating from the smoke inhalation. 
  • Trying all the different leaves and flowers that crazy shepherd gave us
  • Holding a gun from WW2 that one of the shepherds owned 
  • Listening to the sound of a gunshot ringing off the mountains
  • Visiting a local teahouse and meeting the President of the village
  • Eating another amazing village meal 
  • Having a balcony Jam-Session with Ukulele, village drums, cymbal and a tambourine
  • Turning it into a Christmas song Jam Session
  • Turning it into a "listen to Ayla make up a silly song" Jam Session
  • Turning it into a teach our new village friends how to do the Macarena and YMCA Dance Party
  • Turning it into an indoor dance party complete with Justin Bieber and a spritely old grandpa with a tamborine/drum
  • Turning it into a water pipe session with Ismail and Yasmin
  • Staying up til late with Ismail, Yasmin, and their niece Bushra having a three-hour long conversation with the help of two phrasebooks and a lot of gesticulating. 

7/15- Fesleğen Village>Cappadocia 

  • Saying goodbyes to our village friends 
  • Visiting a early Christian monastery carved into the rock that was near the village
  • Climbing into tunnels and venturing into dark corners
  • Visiting an eight story underground city
  • Climbing into tunnels and venturing into dark corners
  • Singing and making music videos eight stories underground
  • Visiting Ihara Valley, hiking up trails, climbing up rocks, and over cliffs to visit different early Christian cave churches
  • GETTING A TURKISH FANNY PACK
  • Arrived to Cappadocia and our CAVE HOTEL at night

7/16- Cappadocia

  • Waking up and realized how amazing Cappadocia is
  • Visiting the Open Air Museum, a UNESCO Heritage Site, and learning and seeing many many more churches.
  • Seeing the "livid" frescos in the Dark Church and sneaking pictures in no picture zones.
  • Getting the best cheap lunch ever courtesy of bus driver's connections
  • Eating potatoes courtesy of a potato
  • Discovering pot in pots in abandoned ruins
  • Visiting a pottery factory 
  • Visiting a Cappadocian winery
  • Photo opps EVERYWHERE
  • Watching the sunset over Cappadocia on the roof of a castle carved out of rock
  • Getting the best cheap dinnerr ever courtesy of bus driver's connections
  • Night Photo opp!
Basically, this is a rough ROUGH outline of the past few days. Apologies for lack of coherency, random inside jokes, and vagueness. These past few days have been incredible, but the body can only take so much dancing/climbing/crawling/laughing. Some semblance of an actual post to come soon. Headed out to our dig site tomorrow. Stopping at Çatalhöyük on the way. I might as well just unhinge my lower jaw at the rate that it's falling out of amazement/panting from exploring/lowering itself to admit delectable Turkish food.


iyi geceler


*Blood was lost to a variety of thorns and prickly plants whilst we climbed the mountainsides and over hill and dale. Sweat was heavily produced on all aforementioned adventures. Tears were shed at the village goodbyes. Adventures were had by all. 

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Freshly Painted Walls and New Chickens

12 more minutes before we leave for the rural Turkish village. I go armed with only the handful of Turkish phrases that I've picked up. My vocabulary consists of: thank you, please, no, yes, one, good morning/night, how are you, and you, good, hi and bye. My relentless questions Medina(one of the hotel staff woman) every morning haven't really prepared me for the trip, but I have my two Turkish phrase books. I plan to look those over on the 10 hour car ride ahead and hopefully add a few things to my collection of sayings.

Hamza told us that he called the village yesterday and they were all preparing for our arrival. Already they've repainted all the walls and ordered new chickens (upon hearing that one of our boys ate seven eggs at breakfast). This is sure to be a rare experience and I'm definitely ready to get out of the city. I can only handle so many museums and souvenir shops. Hamza says that the countryside is just magical and I have only heard the best of things about Cappadocia. Off we go!

Henna, Turkish Tea, and Kilims

Before I left for Turkey, my friend Tida got me a henna kit as part of a going away present. We had planned on doing henna on ourselves while I was still in Washington, but all of the stores we called didn't have it. Because my last night was filled with goodbyes and last minute packing, I threw the kit into my suitcase and decided it'd be a fun group activity once I met the other students.

There are variety of street vendors in Istanbul. Food vendors have carts filled with roasted chestnuts or grilled corn on the cob. Little boys run around with colorful wooden tops dangling from their arms. They toss them down with with a snap of the wrist and mindlessly do tricks as their eyes pan the scene for curious tourists. Of the collection of vendors, I find the calligraphy artists the most interesting. Watching them deftly glide fat permanent markers into loops and geometric patterns is one of my favorite activities, and after watching them for a few days I had the brilliant idea to ask one of them if it would be possible for them to write something on my arm with the henna kit I had brought along. 


My attempt at asking included a lot of gesticulating towards my forearm and a pitiful motion that was supposed writing. The first man I asked didn't seem to speak much English so he called over his friend. Again I slowly asked, "If I brought HENNA, can you WRITE on my ARM?" I assumed he would understand some of what I meant because henna is used in Turkish village marriages, but I know that it isn't used in the same intricate designs as Indian henna. He didn't seem to understand. Eventually, I realized that my sign language skills were failing miserably, and decided to move on. The man stopped me saying, "No, no, no. I do Henna. For you my friend, for you free. Henna." He pulled out a fancy sheet of stationary and popped open his permanent marker...

My permanent Henna.
Well, I got my Henna. Though it wasn't exactly what I was thinking. At one point he stopped and wrote it down on a separate sheet to make sure that he was spelling it correctly. I figured if I was getting it for free I might as well get it spelled right and told to him add an extra n. 

We ended up doing henna on ourselves later that night.


-----------------------------------------------------------



Tonight I found myself at tea with Yusef, our teacher's brother-in-law, and a few of my friends/fellow students. We were invited to tea a while ago, and it wasn't until tonight that finally found the time to head over to their carpet shop for some apple tea (a Turkish favorite) and chatting. Earlier that night we had talked about whether or not we would end up buying carpets as gifts, and eventually I brought up the question to Yusef about different types of carpets, their prices etc. Yusef dragged out a few carpets and began explaining to use the different types. He explained how the village women gathered the wool and how each color was dyed with organic material. Orange was dyed with apricots, blue came from indigo, and green dye was made from pistachio leaves. We oo'ed aa'ed as he explained which rugs were for prayer rugs, which were dowry rugs and which were made as door hangings, teaching us how to identify each by their shape and tassels. 
Some of the carpets that Yusef showed us.

 In the course of our short conversation, Yusef had changed from being our host to a true carpet merchant. As he explained each detail, it was clear that this man had stores of knowledge about all the different carpets, kilims (a very flat type of carpet), and the history of his business. An expert in his subject, the Yusef before us was clearly in his element. 

After our encounter with Yusef, I ran the experience through my head a few times and realized that it was a running theme throughout my time so far.

-----------------------------

 My very first conversation in Istanbul was with my shuttle driver. His name escapes me now, but on the drive from the airport to the hotel, my driver struck up conversation about life. He told me that everyone here works in tourism. He had just started shuttle driving two months ago, and he told me that his English had improved so much. He studied English ten years prior in school, but he didn't remember much until forcing to work with it. Life here is hard, he said, not like America. He told me his boss was crazy, but had managed to work his way up the ladder in two years, starting as a driver "where I am now". We happened to drive passed the shuttle office at one point, and saw the allegedly crazy boss walking down the street. The driver rolled down my window and  they had a brief conversation before parting ways again. As crazy as the boss may have been, it was clear that my driver looked up to him. Once we got to the hotel, my driver shook my hand and wished me a good trip, saying perhaps we would meet again.

This initial conversation sowed a seed of contempt for the tourism culture. Throughout my first days, I looked around and only saw the dependency that tourism had created. Street peddlers and restaurant owners beckoned to us to see their wares or visit their shops, and all I thought about was how hard life must be. I now realize that while their lives may be difficult, the vendors and workers of Istanbul have great pride in their work.

From my friend at the leather shop to Yusef to the calligraphy man, everyone is immersed in their work and their perspective subject. They are experts in their field and proud of the work that they have created. Restaurant owners stand in front of their stores, trying to convince people to eat at their restaurant. Yes this is in part an advertising ploy to get money, but also it is laced with the message that says let me make a meal for you. I've been in the situation where I tried to say that I only have three lira on me instead of the five required for a sandwich[which was true], but the owner waved it away and fetched me a sandwich, a seat, and an apple tea. 

Hamza, Yukiko's huband, ran away from the village when he was young. He worked as a shepherd in his younger years before escaping to the city. Now he owns a carpet store that has been recommended by Vogue and National Geographic. He also rents out four flats to tourists with Yukiko and does trips all over the world to deliver carpets.

Yes, life in tourism is hard. That is indisputable. The amount of work and effort that these men and women put into their jobs is incredible. I have the utmost respect for these people. Those who have the guts and the determination to work hard and build themselves up to what they are today. Atatürk once said, "Turkey's true master is the peasant." From what I've seen, that is spot on. 

Hamza's store has huge piles of the most gorgeous rugs.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Broken Gears

Yesterday the lot of us decided that it was the perfect day for a beach day. We jumped on the tram and headed to the ferry docks. There we were able to catch a ferry to the Princes' Islands. The islands were used as a place of exile for royalty during both the Byzantine and Ottoman empires, thus giving them their names. We jumped off the boat at Büyükada, the largest of the islands and home of St. George's Church, which rests on the highest point of the island.

 After haggling for bike rentals, we pedaled our way up the mountainside up to the church. We ended up chaining our [temperamental, I-refuse-to-stay-in-the-same-gear-for-longer-than-five-minute] bikes near a rest station and walking up to the church. My ukulele provided some scant tunes while we hiked, but my limited knowledge of chords/lack of breath made for a sad performance.



We finally made it up to the top and were able to rest our sweat-soaked selves in the shaded cafe. After visiting the church and eating at the cafe, we walked back down and biked to find a public beach.



The beach that we ended up at charged us 6 lira, but we still had a great time jumping off the dock and sunning ourselves. The Marmara Sea is the perfect cool-down after a long bike ride. The day trip wrapped up with us biking around the rest of island. Luckily we were going downhill most of the time. Zooming through the residential area was exhilarating, no brakes, no pedaling, just coasting while dodging pedestrians and the other tourists in horse carriages.

After returning to the mainland, we finally had our Taksim night, complete with clubbing and a karaoke bar.

Today's adventures included visits to the Hagia Sophia and the Basilica Cistern.


The Hagia Sophia. Church turned mosque turned museum.


One of my favorite mosaics that we saw. In the middle sits Virgin Mary the Protector with Jesus on her lap. On the left is Justinian, offering up the Hagia Sophia and Constantine is on the right offering up the Grand Palace. 


The underground cisterns served as water storage for the Grand Palace. They were hauntingly beautiful and the low waters were filled with plump fish.


A Medusa head at the base of one of the columns. 


Right now we are all on the rooftop, writing in journals, doing work and giving each other henna tattoos with the kit that my friend Tida gave me before I left. Pictures later! Class tomorrow. 10 am. Rooftop breakfast+class. Best thing ever.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Choice.

Sultan Ahmed Mosque, or The Blue Mosque.


The following is an entry from my journal that I've been keeping. I've been taping in my ticket stubs, receipts and random handouts in it, all as trinkets of my random adventures so far. Yesterday I ended up wandering off alone and sat down in a walled garden to write this entry:


7/7/11
I'm lost. That's typical at this point, but what is also the standard is the fact that I'm perfectly content. Today I decided to be anti-social again and took off on my own into Istanbul. As a city filled with history, Istanbul was sure to provide me with some great adventure of learning. That was definitely the case. 


I began by going to the stationary store that we had gone to earlier in the week. Last time I went and got tape so that I could start taping things into my journal. This time I was in search of pens. I ended up buying 2 pens for 1 lira, roughly 62 cents. Later I realized that neither of the pens actually worked. My fault, 62 cents lost. Later on I bought a pen (this very pen I'm writing with in fact) and I made sure to test it out beforehand. Obviously it's functioning. 


After the pen failure, I decided I would go to the Blue Mosque since I hadn't been yet. Just as I was arrive the call to prayer sounded. I watched as hundreds of Muslim (mostly Muslim tourists) filled into the mosque.  They crowded into the entrance, bubbling out into the marble courtyard and slowing they removed their shoes and disappeared into the darkness of the mosque. A few non-Muslim tourists tried to get in, but a man in a blue uniform kept them out and pointed them to the entrance around the corner. I waited for a while, listening to the drone of the chants over the loudspeakers and watched as the bubble of men and women slowly trickled in. It was interesting to observe the differing levels of piety. Some women wear full black body coverings, their hands and eyes as the only skin visible. I find their cloaks mesmerizing, the way that the fabric billows behind and falls is absolute elegance. Other women had head coverings that differed in design and colors, some floral and pastel colored. Men mostly wore slacks, and short-sleeved collared shirts, but I was surprised to see that some of the younger men wore shorts. A number of men had on small fabric hats as well. 

A little boy and his sister peeked in to watch the praying men too.

Eventually I went around to the visitor's entrance and peeked through the window at the front to see rows of men and boys standing side by side in prayer. They would genuflect every so often and touch their heads to the ground in front of them. I sat and waited in the shade of the mosque on the marble steps while the chants of the main cantor (called the imam) wafted out of the mosque. 


The blue tiling gives the mosque its name.
After prayer ended, I was able to go inside. I removed my shoes as is customary, and walked in, picking up two flyers on my way. The Blue Mosque is beautiful. The multiple domes were more impressive than any of the other mosques I had been to prior and the tiling was stunningly gorgeous. When the mosque was made under the rule of Sultan Ahmed in the early 17th century, there was controversy because it was designed with 6 minarets instead of the usual 4 or less. People thought that Ahmed was being too ornate in his plans and ran the risk of trying to out do Mecca's main mosque. He spared no expense with the Mosque and I see why it is considered one of the most important religious structures in the world. 
Charms to protect against the evil eye.


I eventually wandered out of the mosque and headed to the Calvary Bazaar located behind the Mosque. One the way I wanted to visit the carpet museum, but it seemed to be closed. I continued on to the Bazaar and wanted to see the Mosaic Museum, but had some trouble finding it in the bazaar. A few shop and restaurant owners were happy to help me out and I found it after a while. 


Mosaic Museum. 
The mosaics were, as all things here are, amazing. Made for the Grand Palace, the art depicted a variety of scenes of animals and people. There were also satyrs or some mythological creature of that sort. I read about how the mosaics were saved in a painstaking process of restoration by replacing the original cement/mortar. 


My tour guide and new friend.
I finished up with the museum and went down the street hoping to run into Little Hagia Sophia. Eventually I wandered into an area that felt really local and found a small mosque. Lo and behold I'd found the Little Hagia Sophia. As I went in, a old man greeted me and struck up a conversation. At first I was hesitant, but I decided to go along with it. What followed was the most comprehensive tour I have ever gotten. The man guided me through every tiny part of the mosque, revealing all of the history, including origins of the stones. He told me stories on the differences and changes that had occurred over the years, such as the transformation of the structure from a Orthodox Christian church to a mosque and its restoration. Literally he led me through everything from the different seals on the columns to the nails and the carpet. He also came with me through the cemetery out back and explained to me the grave structure of the Ottomans and many of the tombs.


Little Hagia Sophia.

77 different types of turbans found on Ottoman tombs. Styles reflect professions.

In the end he asked for 30 lira, around $20, and I happily obliged. [Today I went to a few more mosques with my teacher's brother-in-law and he was impressed/surprised that I knew so much about the mosque structure and the Islamic faith.] The man emphasized that we are now good friends, saying that I could come back anytime for any kind of help. He gave me directions to the fish market and other churches I should visit. He also cautioned against all different sorts of traps at the clubs in Taksim. We are headed there tonight so his advice will definitely be put to use. 


Orothodox church I stumbled upon. Chanter in center.
After walking along the water, I made it to the fish market and peeked around. I decided I didn't want to buy expensive seafood, having been warned earlier by a fellow Yalie who got food poisoning. I ended up walking back up the hill through many local neighborhoods and stopped in a small Orthodox church just in time to catch the end of a prayer. I sat in the back of the totally empty pews while a man in religious garb stood at the front chanting. 


Cats and dogs roam the streets everywhere. I found sleeping kittens at the church.
Now I'm resting in a random courtyard I found. It appears to be a tomb place. More adventures always. This city is brilliant. Taksim tonight!


------

We never made it to Taksim last night, thankfully. One of the girls had her 20th birthday, so we wanted to celebrate by doing wine and going to the clubs. Before the nighttime festivities, I had a hilarious run in with a baker when I strolled in to buy some Birthday Bakalava, and got 34 lira worth of different sorts of bakalava for the 29 lira that people had collected.

Afterwards I wandered to find dinner. Again, I keep getting into interesting situations. This time I was herded into a restaurant that we had ate at a few days earlier. A Turkish man around 55 with peppered hair took the 3.5 lira that I had and gave me a great meal that was certainly more than that. "As [his] guest" I was also treated to apple tea, a famous drink here that is basically hot apple cider. Afterwards he asked if I wanted to see his leather shop. Turns out the man didn't even work at the restaurant, he was just there because he helps out his neighbor every night after work. I was hesitant to go with him because I was alone and I was supposed to go start the birthday festivities soon, but again I figured we not. He directed me around the the corner and up a shady staircase. I was the tiniest bit nervous, but once I saw the door labelled Leather Fashion I realized he wasn't going to mob me. Inside were three huge rooms of leather coats. He had me try on a few, they were beautiful, but I had literally spent all the money I carried on the dinner and there were a million other reason why I didn't/don't need a leather jacket. I was finally able convince him that I wasn't searching for a jacket by saying that I came from a place that was too hot for leather jackets.... New Haven's hot right? He shook his head and laughed realizing that he wasn't going to get a sell out of me. I thought he was going to shoo me out of the store, but instead we sat and talked. We sat in his room of leather, talking about everything from his other shop in Austria to relationships. He wanted to actually know about me, asked me if I had a girlfriend(s), if I was looking for a Turkish girl etc. I told him that I was single but assured him that I was not looking. At one point, he brought up how he had run into two French boys in the week prior. One had girlfriend and the other had boyfriend. His eyes went wide when he recounted the story. "How can this be?" he said, "I don't know, but you know everyone has different choice. Some people have other choice. You have your choice, I have my choice, he have his choice. Not bad, just different choice. Everyone has choice. It is okay."

Our conversation covered a whole host of topics, and by the end of the half hour I realized I was so lucky to have stumbled on this new good friend. He offered to go to a bar with me and get a beer, but I had to get going at that point. He has invited me over for a beer tonight, and I'm going to bring a few of the other students and visit him after he gets off work.

The night time festivities were ridiculously fun. Again we had wine on roofs and this time with Turkish Delight and Birthday Baklava. Eventually we headed out, hoping to go to Taksim, but instead our teacher's husband found us as we were leaving and suggested that we go to a nearby bar. It was a much better decision, because Taksim can be dangerous for tourists and we hadn't been before. Yeni Rakı is a Turkish drink here. You add water to the alcohol and it becomes cloudy and tastes like licorice. Not my favorite, but I'm glad I tried it.

There are so many stories and so much to experience here. I wish I could just record it all, but I guess I have to save some of them for the telling. I've learned so much about the Islamic faith and Turkish culture. I haven't even touched on how amazing archaeology is. The work that goes into excavation is filled with problems that I never even thought to consider. From politics to preservation, there is so much to learn and I'm astounded at how complex it is. Apologies for the long post, but it's all too exciting not to share.