Close the book on it

 Almost done with 2016. Granted, it’s been a rough year for pop and music icons, but I feel pretty blessed. After all, I started in Guangzhou, then got to go to America for awhile before wrapping up the year in Istanbul. Tough to complain about.

Technically, though, I’m not wrapping it up in Istanbul. Given the OK to travel again, I promptly bought several plane tickets and am currently sitting in a room in Guesthouse Ciru in Sarajevo. Last week, I spent Christmas with a friend in Kiev, and I’ve made plans for MLK and Presidents’ weekends plus have asked off a week in February. I’ve also signed up for two different 10ks – one in Antalya in March and the other in Dublin in August. All flights for the above have been booked, and I’ve also penciled in weekend away in March. I’ve got plans for that but nothing inked.

The laptop made this trip with me because my Slingbox talks to it and lets me watch FSU football, even though I tend to have the most awful connections. Still, it’s the best I could do from Bosnia and Herzegovina, so I embraced it.

Despite a nasty wintry mix in Istanbul, I made it to the airport in plenty of time and my flight went off flawlessly, even if I was pretty much famished. I’d spent the workday at someone else’s desk until lunchtime, when I grabbed my PD sandwich and ate it over the course of doing an inventory that took three hours. When I finished that, I grabbed a bag of Cheetoes and went back to the other office to finish work and then grab a cab to the airport.

The flight was only an hour and a half. Since Istanbul isn’t on daylight savings time (or whatever it is), we’re an added time zone away from wherever it is we’re going. In this case, Sarajevo is normally one time zone away but now it’s two. So my flight, which left at 7:35 p.m., was scheduled to land at 7:30 p.m. I just love that. And I got to watch “Hoot” again.

I did not book a car from the airport, figuring I’d either take a cab and insist on using the meter (there are bad stories of people getting ripped off) or take the bus. So I changed some Euros I had to whatever “KM” stands for, then went to take out more money from my bank account – and completely blanked on the PIN. I have three bank accounts and two have the same PIN. This was the other one, and I totally, absolutely blanked. I could remember one number for sure and I thought I had another. I tried 2-3 combinations and then stopped, not wanting my card to get swallowed in a foreign country.

Since I’d planned on paying cash for the hotel (even though I carry both a Visa and AmEx), I was a little concerned about cash flow, so I opted for the bus. It was pretty easy; I was the only one getting on at the airport and I showed the driver the guesthouse address so he’d let me know where to get off. So that was no problem, but once I got off, I was completely backwards. I had the GPS and knew I was 600 meters from the place, but trying to figure out which left turn the stupid thing meant drove me crazy.

I wound up taking about half an hour to make a “9 minute” trek, the last part of which was incredibly dicey. I’d taken the “1 minute longer” route, mostly because I could find it, and it turned out to be uphill. Normally, this is not a problem, but it’s cold in Bosnia and Herzegovina and it snows. There wasn’t any coming down, but the roads were covered in snow, and then re-freezing for the night. So I was trying to climb an icy road in the dark, cell phone in one hand and struggling to remain balanced due to the duffel bag slung across the other arm.

All I could think about was slipping and snapping my leg in two, but God is kind to morons who take the “1 minute longer” road and I got to the place frozen, but just fine. I took a hot shower and crashed, but only for about three hours because I had to wake up and watch the game.

THAT was terrifying. Holy cow. I had bad feelings about the game beforehand and my stomach was in knots the whole time. Thank God the Noles won!

And about five minutes after FSU won 33-32, my alarm went off. I shushed it (it’s barking dogs) and went to bed, pulling myself out around 9:30 or so. At that point and really well before, I was pretty famished and I hit the town for food and sightseeing. I turned the other way out of the guesthouse and it’s much easier. Still a hill but not one that made me feel like I needed crampons and an ice pick.

Food had to wait, though, because I am easily distracted by shiny things, and they had a ton. Most of it was copper, I think. I went to the downtown area, which is full of little shops of handmade stuff. (Most swear it’s done locally, but I have my doubts on some of it.) Lots of jewelry, crocheted stuff, the copper tea things and such – just all kinds of stuff to wander through, booth after booth.

Then I hit upon a Christmas market-ish kind of thing and went for hot chocolate. What I did not remember from last week’s Kiev trip is that there are two kinds of “hot chocolate.” When we say hot chocolate, we really mean hot cocoa – powdered or liquid chocolate flavored something mixed with milk or water. But it can also mean melted chocolate, which, although I am a chocolate lover, what I want when I see a sign proclaiming “hot chocolate” and my hands are freezing. I got a Dixie cup’s worth of this thick chocolate that required a spoon to drink. It was good, but not what I wanted.

So I went for doner, schwarma, whatever you want to call it. Slices off the hunk of meat that sits on a spindle and gets shaved off as you order. Oh, it was fabulous, but not a Sarajevo meal. It’s Turkish. And I love it. So much, in fact, that I also had it for dinner later in the day. Chicken for brunch and beef for dinner. Maybe I’ll eat Sarajevo food tomorrow. I’d like to; I’ve heard about the meat/cheese pies, but I can’t read the menus!

Dinner was kind of brutal, not because of the food. I sort of got waved into this place. Although I wasn’t that hungry, I really was done for the day and figured why not. They sat me at what must have been the misfit table, right next to some guy who was eating soup. Well, he decided to strike up a conversation, and I just did not want that tonight.

I never want to answer the “where are you from?” questions and I REALLY don’t want to go with “where do you work?” I also don’t like being rude, so I try to be nice about it. Unfortunately, this guy just … geez, I don’t even know. He asked both of the above, then wanted me to go over visa information with him (I need to lie, but I’m a terrible liar.) He even wanted to show me the stamps in his passport. (I think he’d been denied a visa and he wanted me to tell him why.) I tried to be polite and ask reciprocating questions to show that I didn’t hate him or anything but I just wanted to eat.

He asked if I was married. (I said “Not now.” I have no idea why.) He asked how old I was, and when I said, “Older than you,” he said no, then tried to guess. I had to give him hints until he got it. Then he wanted me to guess how old he was and I refused. He told me – 31. I really wanted to stab my ears out. He said multiple times that he was “all alone” and “lonely” in Sarajevo and that he’d been there multiple times. I was just wolfing down my food. He gave me his card and then asked for mine, which I could honestly tell him that not only did I not have one but I’d never had a job that required one.

Dude was just annoying and I wanted to smack him. Oh, he was also a smoker, and that’s allowed indoors, so he was smoking as I was scarfing down my beef. He wanted to know where I was staying, because he was staying around there. I said not around there. He asked if I’d taken a cab. I tried to calculate the odds that he was staying in the exact same guesthouse I was, not 500 meters from the restaurant and gambled and said yes, I’d taken a cab. As I was getting up, he asked for my number. I was like, I’m on vacation and I don’t even have a phone. I have no idea if he believed me, but I am a terrible liar and as I was sprinting off, I realized I had tried to check my phone before my food had come. Oh well. I am not interested in some horny, lonely Bengali 31-year-old.

Maybe I’ll run into him tomorrow. That’d be my luck. There are a bunch more tourists here than I would have thought. I mean, I am cold! My plan tomorrow is to go to breakfast – I saw a place on my way back this evening – and then see if I can find the right pair or crocheted slippers for me. They are pretty cool and I want some.  Maybe I’ll wise up before tomorrow, but I did get my pin number verified and have taken out money, so I can spend it.

Meanwhile, the party is starting here in Sarajevo. Luckily, I can hear it from my room and I don’t need to go out. I’m going to ring 2017 old people-style: with a hot shower and a book.

Happy New Year! Happy Orange Bowl victory!

Kid in a candy store

Yesterday, I got tapped to do the monthly store run to Ankara, which has a commissary. Oh, man, it was fabulous.

We have a little association that runs a store of American foods, like mint Oreos, Tabasco sauce, Hidden Valley salad dressing and so on. There’s cereal, bacon, wine and stuff, too. Honestly, I don’t go into it because for the most part, I’m fine with the local economy. I can get Oreos (though not mint) I brought Tabasco with me and I am a naked salad person anyway. The prices in our little store in Istanbul are incredibly marked up, too, so to me, an Oreo is an Oreo. I can go local. (Actually, I haven’t bought Oreos here because here exists this fabulous Turkish cookie that is basically a round Twix bar, which is the bomb. But I digress.)

Once a month, our little store restocks from the commissary that’s on the military base in Ankara. As an employee in Mission Turkey, I have the right to go down there at any time, but it’s five hours away. That’s a long way to go for a few items if you’re just you. If you’re shopping for the store, though, it’s a great time to do your own.

I had no idea what it was like, but it was basically your regular American grocery store. Our store manager put in the bulk order before, so it was already crated but I have a few orders for other people I needed to track down, so I got to do my own shopping while I was at it.

In Istanbul, I don’t buy many groceries at the store. I basically get chips, cookies, milk (in a box) and juice, then, when I need to reload on rice, pasta, sugar or flour, that. But the veggies come from the street market and I have a ton of spices already. Essentially, I don’t dwell in the grocery stores.

But I dwelled in this one. They had stuff I can’t get in Istanbul, like Breyer’s mint chocolate chip ice cream. That is the absolute best ice cream ever and I was so happy for it. I got a half-gallon, or liter, or whatever it is they come in. I got root beer, something that is truly American. I’ve had A&W in Jakarta and that’s the real thing, but something I had called “root beer” in Jerusalem was awful. American root beer is the real deal and I got a 12-pack of it, plus a single one for the road home.

Someone gifted me a cake mix awhile ago and I was going to make it for the Marines, so I bought some Betty Crocker icing. (I love my Marines, but I’m not using my powdered sugar for their icing!) Also got some Nestle Quik, which I realize now I can get locally but whatever, and some hot chocolate mix. And Cheetoes, which are fabulous. There are also Cheetoes in Istanbul, but there were also Cheetoes in Guangzhou and those were not only not the same but were awful, therefore I have been scared to try the Istanbul ones. And WintOGreen Lifesavers and Whoppers! (Both those were kind of stale, but an awesome kind of stale.)

They also had some good-to-know stuff: alfredo sauce, moon pies, grits. I don’t need any of that now, but knowing I can get some in the future is good.

And there will be a future. I now on the board of the association that runs the store, and I’m the one in charge of the monthly runs. I don’t necessarily have to go, but I have to find someone to do it. The runner and the driver get $150 each for the day, so it’s not bad, really. It is a 12-hour day, though. We left at 5 a.m., a crime in itself, and it was wet and snowy. Quite a long day, but when you’re throwing back Barq’s root beer and eating WintOgreen LifeSavers on the ride home, it’s not bad. 

Because Leanne asked what a Christmas market was ...

This week, I’ve been taking a class in Frankfurt. It’s cold in Frankfurt, although according to Weather.com, not really much colder than Istanbul. The difference is my walk to work has escalated from 15 minutes to an hour and 15 minutes. It seems colder because I’m in it more.

Dana would love his place.

Yeah, I know, that’s my option – Frankfurt has a bunch of public transport options, but I decided since I spend two hours in the gym anyway, I might as well spend that two hours walking to and from work. And oh, my, when you leave at 6:50 a.m.  and walk back starting at 5 p.m., it’s dark. And with darkness comes cold!

So here’s a hint, my Florida friends: always bring gloves! I brought my hat and a scarf but deliberately looked at the gloves and thought, nah. Well, I didn’t realize the Marriott I’d selected was so far from the building. For some reason, I was thinking it was maybe a 20-minute walk. That was wrong. I am cold.

I’m still happy with the Marriott, but if I had another opportunity to take another class, I’d opt for the much-closer Best Western. Or heavier gloves and more clothes.

Store of beeswax Christmas stuff.

The class was cool. It was HR-oriented, which is something that I’ve found that fascinates me. I also like learning, so it was up my alley. And it’s been a nice break from being in Istanbul. I love the city and my job, but this status we’re on is definitely grinding. Of course, even though I was away, I was still monitoring emails and trying to make small dents in the stuff I’ll have to do when I get back.

That starts tomorrow, too. It’ll be the sixth consecutive weekend I’ve worked since this status started. It’s kind of too bad I’m pretty low-maintenance as far as “stuff” goes, because I’m racking in the OT right now. It’s nice overall, but at some point, I’d just like a nap.

Frankfurt itself has been nice to visit. Despite working, I have gotten out and about, if just during the daily walks. I also saw a movie, and by my count, Germany is country N0. 10 or 11 in which I’ve seen a movie. I can’t remember if I ever saw one in Malaysia – I do know I tried.

Cute little standalone, temporary stores.

The thing to do in Frankfurt about now is hit the Christmas market, and I saved that for the final evening in town. By sheer coincidence, a friend who was posted here before came this weekend and we overlapped for a day and picked the same hotel to stay in, so she took me to the Christmas market.

Having spent two years in China, my definition of “market” is an area that’s blocks long crammed full of different people selling versions of the same thing. I envision lots of storefronts, one after another brimming with fun junk, whether it be tea, glasses frames, flowers or whatever.

Christmas!

And although I lived in Michigan for 11 years and had access to the Frankenmuth Christmas market thing, I never went, so I didn’t have anything other than China on which to base my expectations.

Frankfurt Christmas markets –and maybe all Christmas markets – are way different than I expected.  First, it’s not just people selling stuff. It’s more food, and A LOT more food. Well, more drink than food, but essentially, China markets have a restaurant-ish place here and there, but in this particular Christmas market, food and drink – mostly drink – were the things to do, and shopping came after that. There was a lot of shopping, but there was way more eating and drinking, and apparently, all German Christmas markets have their own mugs every year. Collecting is a thing. I saw lots of that, including from my traveling companion. (There are also several versions every year. She didn’t like her first one and traded for another, then traded back for the original again. So many options!)

I was imagining this left and right. 

Since we’d just eaten some massive schnitzel, I wasn’t hungry at all. (I hadn’t held back at dinner; the two people I was with knew what was coming so I think they paced themselves accordingly.) I was, however, deeply chilled because, although warmer than some days in the week, it’d been that damp overcasty type day – the kind I hate because it gets to my bones. But I soldiered on as much as possible because it was so cool.

There were crowds, but not Hong Kong-like crowds. Some of the crowdedness was what you can’t get from SE Asia – people walking like penguins because they’re wearing so many clothes! Fewer people, more clothes, I guess.

Sunset in Frankfurt

The area was a normal shopping area with temporary booths set up. Kind of like if you put Mule Day downtown, except the booths were pretty much free-standing buildings that had been brought in, with walls, roofs and all. They did have a few aisles of booths like Mule Day, but they were still walled and covered, though those were window-shopping ones – you didn’t walk into them.

Lots of decorations everywhere, from the design of the little freestanding shops to the trees and such. There was a life-size (but not live) Nativity scene, but it was up a little and behind sort of a picket fence; I couldn’t get a picture of the whole thing, just the holy parents’ and shepherds’ heads.

I bought a little wooden nativity set that is kind of a nesting one. It starts from baby Jesus, a tiny little piece, and the pieces stack together until they’re all in the stable-like setting, the largest piece, but then there is a star on top.

My newest nativity set.

And even though I know the stable scene is basically a pop culture myth – it was a cave, people! – I really like it. They had all sizes but I went with the little one. I’m a sucker for nativity sets and I’ve bought two since I arrived in Istanbul, plus I am pretty sure I already have 2-3 others.

I think that’s all I bought there, but I had already bought a Christmas ornament at the mall near my hotel. I was getting close to caving and going for hot chocolate, but I held out for that at the hotel. I’d paid for the executive lounge and wanted my money’s worth of tea and hot chocolate.

What I was really hoping to find was a tree topper – either a star or an angel – but I didn’t see anything that passed my test. I did see a snowflake that I liked, but it was a giant ornament and I’ve have to tie it to the top somehow. Figured I’d keep looking.

Reindeer in the vortex

So now I head on back. I’m currently sitting in the airport – but will post this when I get home; no fee wifi – and hope that I’m home before 10 p.m. tonight. I went ahead and checked my bag, which I rarely do but did since I had my huge class binder with me. I’m still planning on taking the metro but we’ll see how long it takes to get my bag. I cabbed it on the way in because the traffic was lighter and it was amazingly quick. I’m going to have to think about that, because I really would love to be home as early as possible. I’m working tomorrow so any down time will be welcome.

My next out-of-town trip is scheduled for Christmas weekend – no time off. I really am due for some time off, but I haven’t decided where and when. There are just way too many options.

But who’s counting?

I got my official time from the 10k – seven minutes faster than Siem Reap! This does not mean I ran any faster, but it does mean I ran more than I ran last time. There’s still a large number of walking steps in there, but I’m happy with it.

So euphoric, in fact, I signed up for another 10k in Antalya in March. I want to go there anyway, and this gives me something to work around. I already got the flight.

I came in 470^th. No idea how many thousands ran, but I was thrilled. Had no idea they counted like that. My friend I went with came in 86^th, something like 53 minutes. That’ll never happen. I’m endurance over speed.

Coming up on my six-month anniversary in Istanbul, and I finally got out and about a little bit. With the departure status, it’s been hard to, not because I necessarily feel unsafe (though we’re constantly warned to be vigilant, etc.) but because I’ve been working every weekend since it happened.

There’s just so much to do, but I had friends coming over for Thanksgiving and had planned to go sightseeing with them. They had to cancel, but I figured what the heck. I finally did the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia, which are the two big things right in the big square downtown.

I’ve only scratched the surface, but I maintain I could live here 16 years and say the same thing. There’s just so much history here.

This week, I am in Frankfurt for a class. Although it’s not a vacation, not working overtime has the potential to feel like one. I did go into work for a couple of hours on Saturday, plus had the duty phone, but as of now I am sitting in a hotel room and ready to go work from 9 to 5 and nothing else, inchallah.

I had a great flight and am camped out at the Marriott, which, although really nice, might not have been the right choice. I went with Marriott because I get points (and am a stockholder!) but it turns out it’s 5 kilometers from the place, not just across the street. There’s an extensive transport system but I haven’t figured it out yet, so I am thinking I might walk today. It’s a long walk, but I won’t be getting into the gym so I am going to try it this morning.

There is a good possibility I will regret it. It’s cold!

I have finished the race. How do you like me now?

About a year ago, I, pretty much on a whim, ran a 10k at Siem Reap and figured that’d be the end of my racing career. “First and let’s face it, only” is the wording that I remember. It was fun, but those people are nuts. Waking up in the dark and sweating early in the morning is for the birds, right? Why would anyone do that?

Go!

But c’mon, it was Angor Wat. That is so very cool, right? Being in a 10k a stone’s throw from Angor Wat. How could you pass that up? There just can’t be anything as awesome as that, can there?

Well …

As it turns out, there is a race that’s also awesome, and it’s one that crosses continents. I’m lucky enough to live in Istanbul, which straddles both Europe and Asia, and once a year there’s a marathon (and 15k and 10k) that allows participants to run across the Bosporus Bridge, one of three bridges that connects both sides of Istanbul.  When you’re on it, you’re neither in Europe nor Asia, but you are in Istanbul. Enough to boggle the mind.

So I signed up. I seriously thought about the 15k, and, running about 10-14k daily on a treadmill, I think I could do it, but decided to opt for the 10k instead. I’m here for two years and this gives me something to aim for next year. No flippin’ way I am running an actual marathon – 42k is WAY over my limit.

Besides, I am not a runner. I hit the gym practically every day and each day I hope it’s the day I finally love it, but so far that hasn’t happened. It’s so utterly boring. It’s better when I’m outside, which I’ve started doing once a week, but even with the beautiful Bosporus to my right or left, it’s still monotonous.

I didn't stop to take pictures. This was the best I could do.

I usually listen to Dr. Vernon McGee’s “Through the Bible” series in the gym – I’m on Malachi for about the fourth time – but for the race I tried to pick motivational music I could zone out to and maybe pick up the pace. Seriously, I am slow. My fast walk is only marginally slower than my running pace. But I plug along and am determined to finish.

Even though I can’t say I really like running, I have started to look forward to it. It is a fantastic way to get out stress from the job and whatever else ails you. And it’s made me more of an optimist than anything else.

Seriously, it has. Since my treadmill maxes out at 60 minutes and it takes me over that to run 10k, my MO is to run for 60 minutes, then a 5-minute cooldown followed by 30 minutes with another 5-minute cooldown. If I run, it’s usually somewhere between 12-14 kilometers. I don’t think I’ve ever cracked 15, at least year.

I watch the timer thing like a hawk, mostly because I alternate jog/run/walk, usually synchronizing them with the hill level. And I’ve noticed that since I started, I tend to estimate on the bright side. If it’s three minutes, my thought process is something like, “Well, three minutes, that’s practically five, and once I’m at five, it might as well be ten, which is the same as 15. So basically I’m a quarter of the way through this round.” It’s totally optimistic.

But gosh, today was not quite like that. We started out on the Asian side, really just across the bridge. Usually I walked about two minutes to warm up but started at a jogging pace immediately. Very appropriately for me, a duet from Jimmy Buffett and Toby Keith called “Sailboat for Sale.” It was perfect for the day, too, running across the Bosporus on what became a beautiful, sunny morning. (When I woke up at 5 a.m. to transport over there, it was dark, chilly and rainy with North Dakota-like wind.)

Still standing at the finish line

Running got old, though, and even before I got off the bridge, I had to fall into the fast walk. Some of that, though, was because there were so many people stopping to takes photos. It was hard to keep any pace with all the people!

But I did the run/walk/jog thing and got winded really fast. It had been cold when I dressed and I was wearing a long-sleeve shirt under my race shirt and I really regretted it. I was berating my decision to do something so stupid again (OK, this part wasn’t optimistic) and trying to estimate about how far I’d gone. I figured I was going slower than my usual pace and around the 30-minute mark I estimated I was maybe 3-4 kilometers in. This was around the point of a trek that was wonderfully downhill. I’ve never actually run downhill before and was a little trepidation, in part because I’m a klutz, in part because there were people everywhere at differing paces and in part because it was wet and, well, I’m a klutz. I did not want to miss a step and tumble head over heels.

I realized I could go faster than I was without killing myself and at some point realized I was comfortable with the speed. I got to the bottom, listening to some Eric Church music, and saw a marker that said I’d hit the 5k mark. I was so relieved. It was the first marker I’d seen and it was totally welcome.

I’d like to say at that point I just hammered on home, but that’d be a big fat lie. I might be an optimist, but I’m not a liar. I still drug, and I don’t think from that point on I ran a whole kilometer at one shot, but I plugged away, trying to keep pace to whatever music I had on.

I’d tried to cull out slower songs and only leave quick-paced music, but boy, Eric Church is a bit slower than I credited him for. At about “Springsteen,” I was at a point where I was going to start fumbling and finding something else, but it ended and “How Do You Like Me Now?!” came on. Oh, man, that was fairly easy to speed up to.

At the 9k mark, there were more people around watching, and we crossed the Galata Bridge. (It’s a great place to watch fishermen!) They had a bunch of people, music so loud I couldn’t even hear “Bonapart’s Retreat,” which is what came on after Toby Keith for me, and they had lots of people cheering us on.

I really do like that. I had no idea who those people were, but all the high-fives and cheers sure helped pump me for the last 300 meters. Yay! I’m still not going to set any records, but I fought a good fight and finished the face.

Next year, it’ll be 15k.

Tough times in Turkey

it’s been a rough week in Istanbul. Last Saturday, we got a security notice, seemingly random, but they’re never random. On Monday, we had a meeting – the first of three during the week – to discuss the situation. Also on Monday, the department upped its travel warning for Turkey.

From the advisory: “Foreign and U.S. tourists have been explicitly targeted by international and indigenous terrorist organizations in Turkey.  …  Additional attacks in Turkey at major events, tourist sites, restaurants, commercial centers, places of worship, and transportation hubs, including aviation services, metros, buses, bridges, bus terminals and sea transport, could occur.  Extremists have also threatened to kidnap and assassinate Westerners and U.S. citizens.  U.S. citizens are reminded to review personal security plans, monitor local news for breaking events, and remain vigilant at all times.”

Not very comforting. We’ve been advised to vary our routes to work and leave at different times, plus avoid places frequented by Westerners. Luckily, the three other colleagues who live in my apartment complex all drive, two of them armored vehicles. So I’ve been going in with them and bumming rides with others home.

This is unrelated to the coup attempt but is apparently a very real threat, real enough to send all family members home. I spent eight hours in the office on Saturday, working to get people out. Lots of tears. We have a lot of young couples with little kids, some of whom came in in their Halloween costumes. We'd been told on Friday that this would likely happen. It was a half day -- it's a Turkish holiday this weekend -- and, even though the meeting ran late, everyone hung around, pretty much in shock. It's really hard to believe it's at this level right now.

The stuff that's coming down to us is that it's against "Westerners and Americans and their families." It seems ISIS-ish, and from what the Gen.  Townsend said earlier in the week to the press, it sounds like ISIS might be planning some bad stuff outside of Rakka to divert attention and forces from its bad guys there.

And this is aimed at non-Turks. One of my good friends from Guangzhou is from here, and I asked about her family. She was shocked when I mentioned the updated travel warning. It's aimed at foreigners, not locals. There are, according to the security guy, 50k Americans living in our consular district. We're the biggest group. God knows I've talked to a bunch of them on the duty phone.

The upside is, the Turkish police have been awesome, both in getting bad guys off the street and keeping our security informed. We're reporting weird stuff that happens to us at or near our homes to our security guys, who are reporting it to the TP and they are acting on it. (By this I mean seeing strange cars in housing complexes, people taking pictures of school bus stops and receiving crank calls to homes on internal apartment phones.)

I am not in security, but the feeling I get is it'll pass sooner than later. Maybe this is overly optimistic, but I feel like the 100 people we ticketed today will be back by Thanksgiving. I really hope so. But right now, it is very hard. Today was emotionally draining.

It's the new normal, at least for now. Following the coup attempt, we went on a voluntary family member departure, which only one person took up but the status still created a lot of paperwork on other travel in and out of the country. This time around, that paperwork will likely increase, and it was already about 10 more hours a week.

But in addition, many of those family members who went home had jobs, leaving big gaps in the workforce. I worked directly with three of them, with two working on a huge project that has a time-sensitive deadline. I’m a little concerned how we’re going to get everything done.

The next couple of weeks are going to be really rough.

Boats. Vessels of freedom.

Istanbul is a wonderful place if you like water. Turkey has the Sea of Marmara, just off the Aegean Sea right off the Mediterranean on one side and the Black Sea on the other, right after the third bridge connecting Europe to Asia. And connecting the two bodies of water is the Bosporus, a 20-mile stretch that’s heavily traveled by people and fish alike.

 

There are seasonal fish migrations through the river, with October being a prime one for bluefish and bonito. There are street sellers up the wazoo with loads of them, and you can see fisherman lining the docks and bridges hoping to land a few for dinner. I’ve started running along the river and have to be wary of those casting their lines as I go past. I don’t need another hole in my head.

There are also quite a few boats in the waters at any given time, and like and good Gulf Girl, I am just calmed by them. I love watching boats, and I’m in a great place to do it. Little fishing boats, ferries, barges, tugboats, Coast Guard boats, cruise ships. I’ve got them all.

And one of the things to do here in Istanbul – there’s no limit to those – is to take a cruise down the river, starting at the Sea of Marmara and finishing up right at the start of the Black Sea. And that’s what I did this weekend.

I went with a colleague, and we shunned the 60 Euro packages marketed to tourists and opted for what amounted to a $5 round-trip ferry ride, and hour and a half each way. We made five stops before reaching the final destination, within sight of the Black Sea. There, we had about two hours or so to wander around, but mostly to eat.

Here's the link. I tried to copy its map but failed miserably:  http://en.sehirhatlari.istanbul/en/seferler/long-bosphorus-tour-362.html

The little town there definitely caters to the day trippers. As the ferry arrived, many of the wait staff from all the little waterfront restaurants waved from among their empty tables. As we docked, they were there to hand out business cards and present us with menus, despite protesting that we wanted to look around for a bit first.

And a bit was all it took. Unless we were going to take a taxi up a rather large hill to a castle/fortress thing on top of it, we were restricted to the cute little waterfront, which was fine by me. They had boats there, so I could happily mesmerize myself watching them bob in the waves.

But then I got hungry, so we were shopping for a restaurant. When you look hungry, they pounce. I cannot tell you how many menus I was presented with, nor how many languages some of the languages were printed in. I let my colleague pick – she didn’t like fish, so I had to make sure she’d be happy with the place – and we settled on one of the nicer waterfront ones, rightfully reasoning it would have a well-equipped bathroom.

I let the waiter decide on which fish to get and wound up with sea bass with a prelude of hummus, which worked for me. I’ve only been here four months and I believe I’ve eaten my weight in hummus.

We each bought some souvenir-y type stuff – her a towel and me some olive oil soap – and settled into the ferry ride home. I’d brought a book to read but kept looking up at the neighborhoods and buildings going by – the Istanbul landscape is awesome to see, with all the houses built on hills and such. And besides, it’s a waterfront. You have to like that.

Once, when I looked up, I did a total double-take. There was a submarine, right out the window! It had a Turkish flag flying on it and I was so shocked to see a real, live submarine that I totally forgot I could try to take a picture. My colleague got one (she had a better angle for getting a shot as it passed) and hopefully she will get it to me, but I thought that was the coolest thing of the day.

At least until my commute home. We both got off the boat one stop early, because it was at a main (enough) transit area closer to each of our homes. She took a cab, but I decided to walk a bit before catching a bus. I’d departed for the whole day at 8:15 or so, which meant I only had time to run about 50 minutes, half of what I usually do a day, so I felt like I needed to walk.

The area I walked through was a popular area for street shopping and I detoured down one alley (I kind of meandered home), I found these phone booths and immediately thought of Leila and Riley.  The submarine was still the coolest thing, but you have to admit these guys are a close second.


(Today's blog title brought to you by Scotty Emerick. I'm not feeling creative enough this weekend to think of a more clever title, and I love the song.)

Another call to duty

It’s another one of those weekends – as duty officer. Due to a strange scheduling quirk, I had to man the phone again. I took over as being the one who scheduled it, and there was a snafu in early November done by the previous person and to fix it, I had to take over a shift this week. Sadly, there was another snafu over Thanksgiving week and I’m doing it again.

Anyway, I knew I got off fairly easy last time and would be in for some of the regular stuff we get this time around, and I was right. Scams are big here, and I’ve had two of them. They were fairly similar.

The first one was some woman who told me her fiancé had come to Istanbul in May for a two-week job on an oil rig in the Black Sea with 200 other people, 50 Americans and 150 Turks. Something about not having proper equipment and wiring a total of $450k (it was unclear as to if it was her money or his; she said it was “from his foundation account.”)  Then something about an inspection and not being allowed to leave the oil rig, followed by a song-and-dance about the 50 men (of whom fiancé was in charge of) not being able to leave, something something. Basically it came down to her having to come up with money to get them all home. She’d just sent her last $1400 or something like that. Another wife, with whom she allegedly was emailing, complained to the company and then “they cut off all the food to all the men.”

Doesn’t sound fishy at all, does it? Holy cow. Red flags all over the place. I asked the fiance’s name and she gave me a very common name, saying he was from Jacksonville. I asked his passport number. No clue. Names of his employees? No idea. Name of his employer? He was a contractor, so there wasn’t one.  The thing was beyond insane. She told me about a General Somebody Somebody who was “in charge of sending U.S. troops to Iraq” … yeah, right. He had a phone she couldn’t call but only text to. And this sounded legitimate to her.

So I did my due diligence and reported it, to which it came back scam. The person I reported it to asked me if I’d asked the big scam question, which is, “Have you met this individual in person?” I knew that, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask if she’d met the man she called her finace. I mean, WHO is engaged to someone they haven’t touched? Well…

Upon follow-up by email, I asked that very question and she declined to answer it. I also asked for his full name and she came back and added a middle initial. I replied to the email and asked for her fiance’s middle name and date of birth, adding that without further information it sounded like a scam. I haven’t heard from her since.

Last night, I had a similar one, but this was a woman calling about her husband, whom she assured me she did put him on the plane herself. But like the first one, he’d come over in May for something short and as of September some other wrinkle appeared and then all of a sudden, at 9:30 p.m. on a Friday night, she called with a whopper of a tale. These things are so implausible that I really feel like I’m the target instead of the person calling.

This one believes that her husband has been arrested and that the police are emailing and texting her to send them money. It’s like no, they do not do that. What they would do, however, is call us. And in the month that has lapsed since you believe this occurred, they have not called us.

In the course of trying to figure this out, I learned that the man was 72 years old – a bit old to travel for an engineering gig – and the wife had absolutely no idea of his passport number, his employer, his flight information or the hotel he allegedly stayed at for two months. She didn’t have a voice phone number for him, but had a number of a burner phone used just for texting. I tried to find out when the last time she spoke to him and she kept saying she’d been texting. I was like, uh, anyone can pretend to be anyone on a text – when did you last speak to him? She had no idea.

Seriously people, please travel smart. Leave a copy of your passport with somebody. Give your itinerary to someone. And if your loved one is traveling for, oh, two months, and doesn’t offer up the information, GET IT.

And if you have none of the above and cannot help your own cause, do not call me after hours or on a weekend to fix it for you. It’s not going to happen.

A weekend full of hot air

One of the big things to do in Turkey is to take a hot air balloon ride over Cappadocia.

Check.

Seven colleagues and I hopped a flight Saturday morning and took off for the area, spending the long weekend there. The first thing I learned is that there’s not a city called Cappadocia; it’s an area, and it’s got what is an utterly unique landscape.

The area is filled with “fairy chimneys,” formations made from volcanic ash (compressed into a soft rock) that is covered by a hard rock cover. Over time, if I understood this correctly, wind and water erode the soft rock, which leaves skinnier soft rocks with hard tops. They kind of reminded me of mushrooms.

There are all over the place, and some are big enough to carve rooms out of, which has been done for centuries. Basically, they are hand-carved caves.  I can honestly say I’ve never seen a landscape like it, or a city-scape like it. There would be normal homes for the area, interspersed with cave homes or businesses carved into the fairy chimneys.

Cappadocia was the land of the Hittites, of Biblical times, and it’s mentioned in the Bible, in Acts 2. It was also either the beginning or the ending of the trail of Christianity, depending on the direction you were heading. And it was a place where Christians hid.

One of those places was an entire city underground, which gave me the creeps. It was about four stories down, and the tunnels were very windy. Fortunately, no one in the group got too claustrophobic. I did bump my head. Hittites and early Christians were not tall.

We arranged a tour through Travel Refinery and got an amazing tour guide, Murat, who, when he’s not leading tours, teaches history and wine and such at the local college. Boy, did we get an education. He was incredibly smart and could speak on any topic related to the area, or pretty much anything else. I didn’t know he was a professor at first, but commented to a colleague that he was speaking to us like we were his students. Come to find out, we were!

The whole thing was top shelf, too. Our hotel, which was built into a cave, was pretty cool. I’ve never slept in a cave before, let alone one with candles, comfy chairs and a big bathtub. A former colleague had recommended the place – Kelebek hotel – and the worst thing I can say about it was sometimes the wifi gave out. But I had wifi in a cave, go figure. And the massage was nice, as was the breakfast. There was also a cool hammock with a view of the balloons.

Oh, the balloons. The ride was so serene. Murat arranged the tour with Royal Balloon, and we got the most experienced pilot they had, Suat. We had two Australians in with the lot of us, both female, so he had 10 women on his flight.

We sailed – not sure if that’s the proper term or not, but it seems right – over and between the chimneys, right after sunrise. (We had to hold off a little because of the weather, but got off just after sunrise.) It was so beautiful, with about 70 balloons up that day. I’d never done that before but would do it again.

After the flight, we had Martha Stewart-inspired mimosas and strawberries. Really. Apparently she flew with Suat a few years previously and suggested a different arrangement for their post-flight refreshments, so we had rose petals among the champagne glasses and the strawberries were dipped in chocolate as we moseyed in the field after the flight.

The link from the show Martha Stewart filmed is on the balloon company’s website:

http://www.royalballoon.com/marthastewart.asp

“The famous American television producer, commentator, gourmet and author Martha Stewart came to Turkey for the shooting of ''Martha Stewart Show'' which was aired in the United States. Stewart came to promote Turkey with the invitation of Turkish Ministry of Culture and Tourism and during her visit to Cappadocia she had an unforgettable hot air balloon flight with Royal Balloon - Cappadocia. 

“Martha Stewart’s television program aired on Hallmark Channel on October 1st, 2010, where she talked about hot air ballooning, valleys and Cappadocia’s cultural heritage, which goes back for thousand of years. We thank Martha Stewart and the Staff of Martha Stewart Show for choosing us as their Hot Air Balloon Partner.”

Suat said right after the show segment aired people started calling from the U.S. to arrange tours. They’ve been flying balloons in the area since 1991; some couple came there and decided to do it, and it took off. Tourism there is down now, like it is all over Turkey, so it’s a good time to go.

I think it's a great idea.

Someone’s in the kitchen

Made pancakes this morning. It’s my usual weekend routine, but this time it occurred to me that I could put bacon bits in my pancakes, which made a world of difference. It’s so basic, I don’t know why I didn’t think about it before.

Although China was pork all the time, Turkey marks my third Muslim country, which means pig stuff is hard to come by. And I never miss bacon as much as when I don’t have easy access to it.

Enter Walmart and Oscar Mayer. Combined, these two are able to deliver right to me little bags of real bacon bits. Not just those little rock-like fakon bits that are basically painted Grape-nuts. I like Grape-nuts but not as a substitute for pork.

Anyway, this morning, I tossed in some bacon – real live bacon, made from real live dead pigs – and man, they were good!

To mix them, I whipped out my new little kitchen toy, an egg beater. I had tried to get my awesome KitchenAid mixer here, but didn’t order the right boxes from storage. Someone gave me a used hand mixer and I tried that, but the person was right when she warned me it might burn out. I tried to make cookies, and it died. So on that batch, as in Guangzhou, I used a whisk. And boy, it’s really hard to whisk cookie dough.

After that, I remembered the little hand-crank mixer things. Mimi used to have one and I’ve seen them in antique stores but didn’t think in this technological day and age that someone would still make a non-electric kitchen toy. But Oxo does! I think this is the GoodGrips kitchen people. I have several utensils from them and I like them, so I saw this contraption on Target’s website and knew it would be perfect. I could have gotten an electric one, I know, but somewhere I do have a hand mixer in storage – Mimi’s – and basically I don’t need another one. I could buy one here, but who knows what electrical voltage I’ll have next tour. This way, I have one that will work in every post. I love it.

It’s nice to have a kitchen again, and I’m finally starting to buy adult kitchen-y things. The big one for a kitchen is knives. I’ve never had really nice ones and decided that I should finally splurge. Except I can’t afford – at least mentally – to spring for an entire set at one shot, I’m going to piece meal my own set.

Before deciding on the knives, though, I bought this cool little knife stand. It’s adorable. It’s from a woodworking place called Missing Digit Woodshop, which in itself inspired. I had the little guy for months before finally pulling the trigger on knives. Ultimately, I probably won’t fill up his shield; I really live and die by my ulu anyway.

So for now, he’s got two, a paring knife and a petite chef knife. I went with Cutco. Great reviews and made in USA – cannot beat that. It’s probably only a matter of time before I’m missing a digit, or at least damage a digit myself. So far, I’ve used the petite chef knife once and was amazed at how sharp it is.

Ultimately, I’ll have at least five, I think, although I would like the tables knives and the spatula thing too. The little guy is holding his arm like he’s got a spear, and there’s a magnet in his helmet to hold a long knife so it looks like he’s holding it. In the ad on Amazon it’s a sharpening thing, but I’ll probably get the bread knife and use it for that.

Now I really need to find something to cook, and time to prepare it.

I looked over Jordan and what did I see? Something like the surface of Mars.

Second leg of my Holy Land tour took me to Jordan, where I played around in Petra and Wadi Rum.  I signed up for a three-day, two-night tour that really took me all over Jordan. I mean, I feel like I crossed every nook and cranny of the country.

How-to in the porta potties at Petra

Petra was the obvious highlight. An abandoned city in stone, what you saw in “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade” was only the tip of the iceberg. And also untrue. The façade where you see them leaving from was only the front door. There was no interior (at least that was open to the public) and certainly no chalice-guarding knight.

But, around the corner from the façade, there was a much larger city, consisting of a monastery, cave homes and tombs, churches, an amphitheater, etc. All carved into the limestone.

A lost city for hundreds of years – except for the Bedouins, who lived there and still inhabit the surrounding caves – Petra was stumbled upon not too long ago (relatively speaking) by an explorer masquerading as a Bedouin. Probably some Indy blood in there, too.

How I felt after a day in the sun at Petra

Our tour guide (catch phrases: “my friend” and “by the way”) did a short introductory lesson in Petra, then my group was turned loose. We had about 15 people in the group, and I and a small handful took off to the monastery, which is the farthest point. It’s not only at the end of the road, but it’s at the end of the road up 950 stairs, but I refused to rent a donkey and cheat. I figured if I could climb Tiger’s Nest in Bhutan, I could do Petra. And I did! It was very cool and I took lots and lots of pictures. (Over 700 total from the week.)

Besides the donkeys, camels abounded in the city, and you could also ride a horse out. I opted for the horse ride, but was a little disappointed when I was led instead of being allowed to trot on my own. The guy led at a trot, but still. However, it was still fun. I had to do that for Wendy.

The next day, we went further south, to a desert called Wadi Rum. The tour package said it had spectacular views, with mountains coming up out of the dunes and barren land. What I didn’t know at the time was that it was also used as the setting in “The Martian.”

Camels at Wadi Rum - mission to Mars

It wasn’t my first trip into the desert – I’d done the Sahara trip in Morocco – but boy, it was cool. We didn’t go that far in (we only toured it for two hours), but it was still pretty phenomenal. And on the flight back, I watched “The Martian” again, reliving the moment.

Crossing the border was a nightmare. For whatever reason, Israelites are really picky about who comes in. I’d gone with a tour, and several of us – including me – were completely grilled before being allowed to enter. I’ve never thought that being turned away at the border would ever be a possibility, but boy, I was nervous.

I’d traveled without my diplomatic passport to Jordan, and coming back into Israel, the border guard had a hard time understanding that. I kept explaining (or trying to) that I was not a diplomat in Israel, therefore no need for it, but that went nowhere. She questioned several of my visas, insisting on the full stories of why I’d been to Indonesia, Kazakhstan and Azerbaijan. The stories of those trip are a little bizarre, but I flat-out told her the truth. I’m not going to lie to a border agent, so when she said why here, I just said, “because I didn’t want to work our national day party.” She gave me a really hard time about not having my boarding pass available, but again, I wasn’t flying out for three more days, so I’d left all that info at my friend’s house.

In the Old City

Honestly, I was just so relieved that I got through. Three other people were held longer than me. One had to hand over her phone, where the border agent questioned her on her photos. Another, who was in the country for a wedding, was grilled on how she knew the bride. They’d gone to primary school together, so the agent kept saying the girl was Jewish. She was Uzbek, and when asked, then, why the bride insisted on being married in Israel, really had no answer, as she wasn’t the bride and therefore not her decision. Her boyfriend was threatened that if he lied to the agent, she “would send him back to Jordan.” He wasn’t lying; he just didn’t have a plan.

So that whole land-border-entry-thing was a nightmare, and a sweaty one at that. I couldn’t imagine being there in July or something. We were all toasty.

After safely getting back to Jerusalem, I toured the old city in Jerusalem. Saw the Mount of Olives, where the Garden of Gethsemane was, the Jaffa (Joppa) gate and all four quarters: Armenian, Muslim, Jewish and Christian. Most impressive to me was the Church of the Sepulcher, which is built on the site where Golgotha stood.

The window where Golgotha is

Golgotha itself has been more or less leveled, but parts of the rock still stand and have been built around. There is one alter-like thing (run by the Greek Orthodox church) where you can stick your hand and touch the rock that Jesus’ cross was planted on. Next to it are other stations of the cross: where His body was taken off, where it was anointed, etc.

There are several churches in the complex, and, so no strain of Christianity can claim to having the “best” part of Christ’s death and resurrection, a Muslim family has held the keys that lock the church’s doors. The family has kept the key for something like seven generations. It’s the only way to keep it fair.

Not being Catholic, I have some issues with the whole “tradition” thing. I’m pretty skeptical if it’s not in the Bible. The worst ones to me were two places where Jesus allegedly stumbled on His way carrying the cross. There are “handprints” in the stone. The guide explained that these weren’t Biblical, but were “tradition.” It was like, um … but you just finished explaining that Jerusalem has been built and rebuilt, and 2000 years ago the road was two meters lower than the road we were walking on. It’s just not possible that Christ’s hand hit that wall. That’s not to say He didn’t, but there’s just no way that’s Christ’s handprint.

But that doesn’t take away from the experience of the church and the whole Old City. Praying at the Wailing Wall was a moving experience in itself, and that was just one of dozens of things that cropped up along the walk.

My tour that day ended with a Dead Sea jaunt. I’d heard it was disgusting and indeed it was, but you have to do it. You can’t sink to save your life, but there’s some slippery mud to amuse and smooth you. I lathered up in it (so much as you can lather in mud) and hung out as it dried. I accidentally got some on my lips and oh, my, what a horrid taste. It smelled weird and was the saltiest stuff ever. Even after rinsing off, I still had a layer of salt on my shades.

It was quite nice to be off an entire week without having to take a single hour of leave. I pretty much dread going back to work tomorrow.

Jesus' hometown and the last crusade

Church of the Nativity

This entire week is a holiday in Turkey, which means I used it as an excuse to get out of Turkey.

At the moment, I am sitting in a hotel 800 meters from Petra, the morning's destination.

So far on the trip, I've tooled around, but not toured, Jerusalem, saw Jesus purported birth spot, visited the Sermon on the Mount site and the Sea of Galilee, viewed the Promised Land from Moses' vantage point and spent a ton of money.

Sermon on the Mount site

Since I am tying this on a smart phone and under a time constraint, I'm going to go off photos.

Church of the Nativity.  This is supposedly the exact spot where Jesus was born. I am really skeptical that that is the exact specific spot, but you never know. I followed a large tour group in, and did not get any time to myself in the little room. It's kind of in a cave, which is far more realistic of the actual event than the whole Shepherd field thing. Never actually says in the Bible that the shepherds were close to the site. They probably travel the ways to get to the manger, which was probably in a cave. This church had been built out of a cave. So maybe it is the right spot.

This is the spot off of the sea of Galilee where Jesus gave the sermon on the mount. There is currently a church there now, and it was closed to the public so we couldn't get into see from there. But the view was very pretty and the church at the bottom of the mountain is called the loaves and fishes church. I had gone with a small group, and one of the people had no idea what that meant.  It made me sad.

Temple of Aretemis 

Temple of Aretemis at Jerash. This was another City of ruins that, like Ephesus, was amazing to see. There were ruins of all kinds of things, including three churches that still had mosaics on the floor fairly intact. I forget how far back they dated, probably the second or third century.

Panorama from the top of Mount Nebo. This is the site that Moses would have seen however many years ago when God gave him a view of the promised land. Of course, he could not enter since he had struck the rock out of anger and all. That was why he had to wonder for 40 years and not step foot in the land of milk and honey, but God relented and gave him a view. If you look closely you can see the Jordan River and across that is Israel.

This morning I head out to Petra, where I hope to do the geek thing and ride in on horseback like Indiana Jones.

Mt. Nebo - what Moses saw

I have to sign off now so I can recharge my phone so that I can take a million pictures there.