maps, silver and tea

On the spur of the moment, two single girlfriends decided to explore Izmir over a weekend. I have grown to love spontaneaity and I was super excited for this trip. Living in Istanbul is fun, exciting and you can discover new places every weekend. But it is equally easy to get stuck in a rut and become a slave to the daily grind. As of late, I was itching for something new, for something exciting, for anything to get me out of the city. Izmir was the perfect place. We had been talking about visiting the historical sites of Ephesus and enjoying the easy life of Izmir for a very long time. Within 5 minutes of me walking into one of the many travel agents that line the main street of Kadikoy, we had bus tickets and a hotel booked for the weekend.

After 9 grueling hours on the bus, we had arrived in Izmir at 2 am. Now, coming from Istanbul, we were apprehensive to be walking around the city at that hour. The streets downtown were abandoned. If it were Istanbul, we would be holding on to our bags real tight and speed walking home. But in Izmir, it felt different. It felt safe. The air smelt so clean, the streets were not lined with trash and the men we came across at 2 in the morning, didn't even notice us walk by. One elderly gentleman helped us out with directions and we were both taken aback by how polite he was and his lack of aggressive mannerisms.  Living in Istanbul makes you skeptical about a lot of things and a lot of people. Everyone always talks about how nice people are and how progressive the city is compared to the 'Bul and you don't realize it until you get there.

Having read great reviews of the 'Kemeralti pazar', we were expecting to see something similar to the multitude of 'pazars' (markets) found in Istanbul. It is massive and very easy to get lost in the alleys that break off into even smaller passages. You can shop for anything and everything there and an added bonus is that the prices are lower than Istanbul. However, we were left wanting more which probably had to do with the vast variety of markets we have been to in Istanbul. Not giving up, we kept on walking through the maze of sparkling fabric stores, antique shops and tea and coffee cafes looking for a hidden treasure. Then we came across Kizlaragasi Hani, a not so hidden treasure, that many travel blogs and sites don't talk about.

Kizlaragasi Hani (an old inn converted into a shopping market) is paradise if you love everything handmade. From handcrafted silver jewelry and leather goods to organic soaps and other little trinkets. The market itself has a very rustic feel. Small shops are like coves in the aging brick structure. The brick archway entrance leads to alleys lit by the fluorescent and yellow lights shining from shop windows. Brightly colored fabrics and tapestry hang from the walls, interspersed with beautifully crafted Turkish lamps twinkling in red, gold and violet. All the little passages lead to a courtyard where people sit on wooden stools around wooden tables sipping tea and freshly brewed coffee. It is the perfect spot to take a break and admire the beautiful architecture around you. The courtyard itself is shaded by a canvas tent with colorful tassels hanging off all four edges. Terra-cotta roof shingles jut out right above the first floor of the building, but the brick structure continues to a second floor offering more cafes and restaurants. While sitting in the courtyard, you notice pairs of rectangular windows lined all along the inside of the building. Each window is framed by a deeper red brick which form domes at the top. All the exposed brick and lack of ornate decorative painting is evocative of the Byzantine Empire. The simplicity of the structure is beautifully contrasted by the colors seen in all the small shops.

After a few well spent hours, we decided to make our way down to the pier. After a few wrong turns,  I gave in and let my friend pull out her trusted map that she had used intermittently throughout our day. Despite my efforts of getting her to relax and see where the path leads us, she won. She pulled the map out of her efficiently packed handbag filled with suncream, wet wipes, antibacterial gel and tissues, flattened out the folds and wrinkles and proceeded to identify our specific location. Her aim was to get us out of the maze I led us into. Bless her! I don't know what I would have done without her. A couple of minutes, a cigarette and a couple of frowns later she knew exactly how we needed to get to the waterfront.

On the way to the pier, we stopped at the 'Saat Kulesi' (a.k.a. Clock Tower) at Konak Square. In the open square, the beautiful Ottoman architecture really stands out. At the base there are four brass water taps with large marble basins, frequently used by the locals to cool off during the day. In the evenings, the tower lights up with an amber glow, beautifully displaying the carvings, etchings and domes of the structure.

The Izmir's city center is fairly small and easy to navigate through (especially if you've got a map) and it wasn't long before we arrived at the pier. The infamous Konak Pier has a fairly large modern structure housing designer shops and restaurants right on the water. Walking along the pier itself is lovely. The waves crash against the rocks and water sprays up on to the sidewalk. There are many cafes and restaurants all along the water in a neighborhood called Alsancak. In the evening, everyone comes out to this area. The best part of the night was Alsancak Barlar Sokagi (Alsancak Bar Street). Bars and clubs, one after another, line the narrow cobbled street. Music blares from every opening, drinks flow from every bar and people are sitting, standing and dancing everywhere. With a great vibe, it is the place to dance the night away.

untouched beauty

Turkey is a beautiful country with landscapes that range from rugged snow capped mountains protecting the character of small cities from urbanization, lush green highlands with varying species of animals and birds, to gold sandy beaches with sparkling water attracting tourists from all over the world. Orchards of figs, apricots, and cherries are what you could come across in your travels; along with olive groves nestled in the valleys of mountain ranges. Every city I have visited has been beautiful and charming in its own way. It is almost impossible to compare one to the other because they are so different. When people say Turkey is diverse, they mean the diversity of the Turkic peoples, with so much history, culture and food to experience first hand, there will never be enough time to spend in each region.

Yalova is a dream for thrill seekers. It offers hiking and trekking, mountain biking, skiing in the winter, hot springs which is what it is renowned for, and coves and roaring waterfalls for everyone to enjoy. The Samanli Mountains are just 2 hours outside of Istanbul with miles of coniferous forestry waiting to be explored. Of course not everyone is interested in the outdoors but I do recommend a visit to admire the diverse beauty of the landscape this country has to offer.

A relatively short ferry ride will transport you to the outskirts of Yalova province at the edge of the rolling mountains of Samanli. Coffee colored dusty trails, bordered by low growing plants sparsely sprouting pink and purple flowers, wind up the foothills and into the mountains. The trails can be tricky with old thick roots jutting out of unexpected places, covered by mustard and rust colored fallen leaves, distracting the eye from what is really there. Slivers of sunlight shines brightly through the cracks in the dense wall of leaves and branches, exposing the moss covered tree trunks standing tall and proud. As you go deeper into the forest and higher up the mountains, pushing low hanging branches out of your way, you are simply in awe of the untouched beauty around you.

Around a rolling hill, behind a fortress of pine trees, I came across a waterfall in the gorge between two hill tops leading down to a narrow stream, flowing into town. Water spilled over the steep rocky walls of one of the hills and cascaded over dark grey boulders haphazardly thrown around this ravine. The rocks glistened as sunlight danced around the cracks and slid off the smooth tops, beautifully exhibiting the erosion over the years. Crisp white froth poured down over the rocky hill into the pool of water at the bottom, where I stood, enjoying the cool splatter of water against my skin.

For the foodies (myself included), a variety of fish marinated in a medley of mouthwatering spices, grilled, sauteed or fried can be found in the many small towns. Grilled chicken or meat served on a bed of rice with organic vegetables and freshly baked bread is a staple in almost all regions of Turkey. For a quick meal, I suggest 'lahmacun' or Turkish pizza. Freshly kneaded dough is rolled out into thin oval shaped bases which are then topped with spiced minced meat and finely chopped tomatoes. Once baked in a brick kiln, it is served with wedges of lemon to squeeze on top, sprigs of parsley and thin slices of onions. This thin crispy delight is so affordable and delicious, it becomes challenging to stop at one. The piece de resistance for me is a plate of 'bal kaymak' for breakfast. This is a plate of rich clotted cream made from organic milk served with fragrant honey poured over it with a side of toasted bread. In the land of milk and honey, nothing comes quite as close to perfection as 'bal kaymak' does.  

a million pieces

Standing in a patch of clearing, catching my breath, I feel like a weight has been lifted. For the past month I have been numb. I have felt like I was just showing up for my life, not actively participating in it. I showed up to work, taught, graded and went home. People were talking to me and I was nodding my head in agreement, forcing smiles when I had to and even managed to muster up the strength for a laugh. My mind was always a 1001 miles away. I did everything I was supposed to. Kept myself busy, surrounded myself with friends and worked hard on my 'single girl's to-do list'. But for some reason I couldn't break away from that feeling of numbness. It always felt like I was having an outer body experience. It was as if my soul would break free from my body, float above me and look down on this lifeless figure of flesh, bones and curly hair, staring blankly at people around her, trying to mask how her heart was aching as best she could.

 But all that felt different now. I could feel my knees stinging with pain, from where the skin had split because of the impact, when I hit the ground. I could feel it damp and figured blood must be trickling out of the wound. I felt this urge to scream. To scream with rage. To let all the things I wanted to say but didn't, because I'm the sweet, polite girl who doesn't go around breaking people's hearts. The solitude of not knowing where I was gave me comfort and I let a scream coarse through my body as if I were exploding into a million pieces.

The thick blanket of lush green leaves swayed to the command of the wind. The cool breeze smelled sweet and caressed me softly. My skin, that initially felt like it was on fire, quickly calmed. It was as if the universe was saying "enough". I took a deep breath and with the exhale imagined I was letting out every last bit of disappointment and sadness I could picture.

 "Enough" I said out loud.

I was surrounded by trees with low-hanging branches of leaves that smelled so sweet and fresh. The night sky was a cool shade of navy with bright sparkling stars scattered everywhere. It was serene. The trees majestically towered over me. They offered me the security to let go and find myself. My mind was clear. I was no longer worried about where I was. I no longer felt abandoned. I didn't feel sad or lost. I felt nothing. But for the first time I didn't feel numb. I was eager to get back home and start my life again. My heart wasn't ready for this world, maybe it never will be. But we are fearless creatures and we stay hopeful because 'this world is too fragile for people to be untrue'.

Why do people climb mountains?

Just over a year ago, a few friends and myself were having job interviews in Istanbul and one night, gathered in my apartment, we were sharing our best and worst over a few drinks. Between giggles, laughs and gasps of air, someone blurted "I've got a good one." We looked at her with full attention and curiosity. "Why do people climb mountains?" she asked. There was a bit of chuckling and then we started firing answers. Mountains symbolize different things to different people. But generally, they symbolize obstacles and overcoming them, overcoming difficulties and at times mental and/or spiritual enlightenment. Our answers that night were along the same lines.

Recently I climbed a mountain and that night and the conversation we had flashed through my mind and made me think about my reasons. In a sleepy town on the outskirts of the province of Yalova I was finishing off my second cup of tea and third cigarette, enjoying the cool shade after having spent half the day laying on the beach reading Paulo Coelho. Days when I can simply relax and read are few and far between but when I do get those days I relish every minute. After paying, I thought about what to do next. I could go back to the beach and finish my book or I could walk in the opposite direction, towards the mountains encompassing this sleepy town. So, I packed up my things and with slight trepidation I chose the latter and made my way over.

Standing at the foot of the mountain, I braced myself for the hike to come, for the unknown. There was no particular path, no map or guide book. Just a dusty trail that had been formed over the years as a result of weathering and possibly some use. My heart was beating faster and I felt a rush of excitement. I was alone and I had no idea what was going to happen or what I would encounter. But I was buzzing. The unknown was exhilarating. I pictured the hike and reminded myself that with every step forward I was going to leave the past and the emotional disarray behind me. I visualized the end and imagined how much of an accomplishment it would feel like. I wanted to gain control of my feelings and take charge of my life again. I wanted to be that person so bad and this hike was going to help me become that person.

As I made my way up the dirt path I could feel the loose soil crushing under my shoes. Dry leaves crackled as I stepped on them. Tiny stones rolled away with the jerk of every step. Every now and then a slight cool breeze made the humidity tolerable. It felt great as it brushed up against my damp skin. But the path started to incline and my strides got longer in hopes of getting to the end sooner. The muscles in the back of my legs tightened and relaxed with each step. The path became steeper and my breathing heavier. With every breath, I tasted a blend of sharp and sweet smells of the leaves and the soil. My heart beat faster as my lungs filled with air. Beads of sweat continued to roll down my face and my back was completely drenched. I pushed forward. With every last bit of determination, I pushed forward. With the will to prove to myself that I am stronger than I think, I pushed forward. With the hunger to feel something, anything, I pushed forward.

The hike had become more challenging than I initially expected it to be. The soles of my feet felt sore and my thighs were aching. My toes felt warm and raw because of chafing and every time I wiped my face I felt slimy. Even my hands were sweating and it felt like I was just smearing more sweat on my face than wiping it off. There wasn't a single piece of clothing on my body with a dry spot left. The sun was beginning to set and I looked around, slightly worried about how I was going to make my way back. Standing there, trying to catch my breath, I tried to find the nearest patch of clearing I could to take a break. My mind was racing with the thoughts of what I would do next. There was a lump in my throat, my head felt heavy and my bottom lip started quivering. Within seconds I fell to my knees and tears started running down my face. I didn't hold back. I let the fear of not knowing where I was, the pain of my sore muscles and the complete sadness of love lost take over. I could barely keep my eyes open, my eyelids felt swollen and heavy. I was certain my knees were bleeding because of falling so hard on the dirt, but I didn't care. My body was jerking and I was gasping for air, but I didn't stop. It was my release. I climbed half way up the mountain to let go of the pain weighing heavy on me for weeks.

yakamoz

The Bosphorus is a majestic body of water. Not only does it divide two continents, but it is the place for international maritime traffic. It is a representation of history dating back to the 5th century BC. Emperors and Kings have crossed it, fighting for land, and now countries using it for trade, are governed by treaties. On a clear day, the Bosphorus is a harmonious blend of cobalt and cerulean blue mixed with turquoise creating an almost teal blue which depicts perfect serenity in this city that never sleeps.  Sitting on the big brown and grey rocks weathered by the waves crashing against them, by the pier in kadikoy, I'm not admiring the Bosphorus' shades of blue but the sunset filling the sky with gold, amber and honey. The light reflected in the water in front of me looks like a sea of melted copper. Flowing from Europe to Asia.

I find myself thinking about Yakamoz. This is what Turks describe as the moonlight reflecting off the surface of the water. On this warm night as the sky gets darker, the skyline of Topkapi Palace, Aya Sophia and the Blue Mosque are off in the distance, with glittering lights. The moon is patiently waiting for the sun to set. The water between me and there is sparkling. It is simply magical. I sit sipping hot Nescafe I just bought off the guy carrying paper cups and a large thermos. His once black t-shirt is now a dull grey and the hem of his pants are frayed. The shoes on his feet have seen better days. The brown leather is covered in black blotches and the heels are worn thin from use. He has kind eyes and happily pours my drink for 2 Liras. As he walks away calling out to other prospective customers, I think about his life. How must he survive on the money he makes doing this? Does he have a home to go to every night, a bed to rest on, after walking up and down the coast? Does he have a family to support? These thoughts put my life and troubles into perspective. How trivial must my problems be compared to his? I take a sip of my coffee and hope that however he lives, he is happy.

I can feel the breeze get cooler and stronger. A sudden gust of wind crashes against me and breaks my train of thought. I notice the lack of Yakamoz. The water is darker and I can see it getting choppy. The sun has set and I can barely make out where the sky ends and the water begins. The waves are violently slamming into the rocks, the rage is almost palpable, and traces of white froth from the waves are left behind. I can feel the water on my toes and it feels almost icy. How did it get so cold in July? The weather in Istanbul truly is as unpredictable as the people that come in and out of our lives. Most recently for me, a series of arbitrary decisions imposed on my life have left me troubled and aching, quite similar to the Bosphorus this evening. Having been unable to unravel the knot of emotions I am feeling in my heart, I let the rage from the Strait bind me.

playing with magic

As I sit at a restaurant enjoying a cool drink, in one of the many suburbs of Istanbul, I realize certain things about love and loss. On this cool summer evening, as the sun sets and rich amber and gold colors fill the blue sky, I'm sipping minty lemonade and listening to my friend talk about love and fate.

I find it fascinating how everyone is convinced that their perspective about love and fate is absolute. I value advice and I always appreciate it when people share their reasonings about relationships, which is why I am talking about it tonight. Everyone's opinions are invariably shaped by their experiences and I am of the humble opinion that those experiences are always unique. No two experiences are ever the same; therefore, no two relationships are ever the same. Although something is always to be learned from friends, one must err on the side of caution. What holds true for someone does not necessarily hold true for everyone. I know this sounds quiet trivial for me to write, but it's surprising how many people internalize others beliefs and make rash decisions based on them. But, I digress.

On this occasion, as my dear friend shares her thoughts on men and love, I sit back in my chair and reflect on my relationship, watching her brown eyes sparkle with insight as her hands wave out in front of her, expressing the intensity of her words. She leans in and says "Turks have a saying; everything that doesn't happen, is a blessing in disguise". I smile, reach for a cigarette and look out at the street in front of me. A cab is trying to weave through the cars and buses while people, with shopping in their hands, dodge all sorts of moving vehicles to get to the other side of the street. I look back at my friend and she is looking at me with a sense of certainty, confident that her words have resonated within me. She is trying so hard for me to feel better and all I can mutter out is "It will take time".

I realize that people in relationships are similar to those crossing the street in front of me. We are merely dodging heartache, loneliness and the occasional sociopath. My friend starts describing a past relationship, and unavoidably, I start comparing it to mine. But before I slip into an abyss of tears and regret, I remind myself that love is beautifully magical. Great love inspires you and nourishes you. It surprises you and sometimes shakes you to the core. We often learn from it and try to be better. When we lose it we feel like we're upside down, restrained in a water tank. With no way of getting out, we hold our breath hoping our lungs fight through the sharp pain because we can't think past the sheer panic. But love is beautiful. And we willingly dive in every time.

Kadikoy

The first thing you realize as you walk on the streets in Kadikoy is that it hasn't lost its authenticity. The streets are much narrower and lined with cafes, restaurants, butchers and vegetable shops. Stray cats, with discerning tastes, wander the streets looking for the best scraps of meat and fish. They snub their little noses when you throw a piece of bread their way. Shop owners sit outside on small wooden stools, crouched together in a circle, sipping tea and smoking cigarettes, as they read the daily paper or talk about the economy, inflation and football. Every corner has a salon or barber, offering the same services for about the same prices, all of which are flashing in neon lights.

At every turn you can smell the richness of meat being slowly cooked on vertical rotisseries, or the sweetness of freshly baked bread and sumptuous doughy delights. Ever so rarely though will you walk past a woman hunched over a large domed black stove top, rolling out pastry filled with cheese, spinach, potatoes or minced meat. If you come across one of these, take 20 minutes out of your day and enjoy what is known as 'Gozleme', prepared to your liking with a glass of tea. Pure bliss!

The beauty of Kadikoy is that you don't have to walk aimlessly to find what you're looking for. There are streets where you can buy beautifully crafted silver jewelry and tableware with ornate carvings. Alleys where one can spend hours strolling in and out of musty shops selling antiques. Along the main strip is where you find windows glimmering with opulent gold jewelry. The side streets offer a variety of clothes and shoes for sale, meeting every need and trend. Interspersed are markets selling durable cotton sheets and towels, all for the lowest prices.

In the evenings, young gypsy girls and boys walk around playing the 'Darbuka' (a goblet drum) with such fervor that before you know it, your hips and shoulders are moving to the rhythm of the beat. But their sincerity to music goes as far as your willingness to indulge their performance and pay up. Musicians play their instruments in the squares as passersby stop to join in or enjoy the melodious sounds flowing from beautifully crafted Turkish instruments. All the same, what you come across most is people leisurely sitting at cafes at wooden tables with burgundy, yellow and green floral cushioned chairs, enjoying freshly brewed tea or Turkish coffee prepared over coal fire in copper pots.