Georgia Pok Guy

As it turned out, getting up early for the flight to Istanbul was unnecessary.  So would have been getting there an hour late.  What I mean to say is that a good portion of my July 4th was spent in the Ercan airport in the Turkish Republic of North Cyprus.  And it is not as if when we checked in they said our flight would be seven hours late.  First it was an hour because they could not find the plane.  As to how one loses an airplane, I know not.  Then it was two hours.  Then another hour.  Then three hours, and, by the way, our flight had been merged with the one to Izmir.  To avoid a riot, the plane would travel to Istanbul first.  Still, it was a vexing experience, with the tedium being alleviated by a good round of spades.  I can’t remember the outcome, but I am pretty sure my team lost.  What can I say, I suck at it?  :D  I should also mention our nyabot friend ordering two meals at breakfast.  But, I can’t blame him, since when he ordered the soup I excepted a little bowl as well, and not the wash basin he got.  Also, the Ercan airport is quite nice, much nicer than the one in Larnaca.  So, it wasn’t too terrible a place to while away seven hours.

We arrived in Istanbul in the late afternoon, as opposed to the planned morning.  It was only about an hour and a half flight, and it is strange to think about how I could be in another country in less time than it takes me to fly to the west coast from here.  After plunking down $20 for a 90 day visa, we collected our things and caught the bus that would drop us off by our hotel.  The amount of traffic in Istanbul is staggering.  It is less of driving down the street than wading through a sea of taxis and other cars.  If you can drive in Istanbul, you can drive anywhere…

After checking into our rooms and discovering that the handle on the toilet does not actually do anything (you had to pull this broken ring in the middle to empty the tank), we decided it was high time we ate.  So we took a stroll down İstiklal Avenue.  This is a phenomenal street, and even at ten at night it is crowded with people.  The street is closed off to traffic, so the only things to look out for are the occasional police car and trolley.  Beyond that, one can let their eyes wander from store to store, taking in the myriad restaurants, clothing, and book stores.  Each alleyway is an off shoot of the main street, specializing in some area.  For example, there was an artists’ alleyway, and one with lots of seafood restaurants.  It is a place truly alive and brimming with energy.  And I loved it.

The next day we woke up to do the typical touristy things.  In chronological order:

• Topkapı Palace: The Ottoman palace situated along the Bosporus.  It has some beautiful grounds and wonderful views of the city.
• The Basilica Cistern: A welcome respite from the heat, the underground cistern is massive.  The columns that support the roof are amazingly elegant, and one wonders why someone would go to the trouble for things under water most of the time.  The Medusa heads at the far end are really quite interesting.  I rushed to take pictures of them before a tour group crowded up the area.
• Hagia Sophia: By far my favorite place in Istanbul.  It truly is an architectural marvel, and no words I use could adequately describe it.  The interior is so massive and cavernous that my flash was worthless.  My jittery hands made it so damn near ever picture I took inside came out blurry.  But I think that may also be a limitation with the camera itself.  Still, it is an awe inspiring site.  Even having seen it before I was still impressed.
• Blue Mosque: The mosque with six minarets, trumping Hagia Sophia.  :)  We passed by an old man in the courtyard making hats, and I was tempted to buy one from him because they looked quite nice, unlike the tacky crap they were selling at Topkapı.  It was required to take off our shoes and for our female traveling companion to don a scarf.  The four pillars in the center of the mosque are like redwood trees, they are that huge.
• The Grand Bazaar: We just passed through without looking in any shops.  Most of the stores we passed were jewelery stores, which is not quite what I remember when I visited with my family in 1995.  I remember mostly places selling spices, but they could have been in a separate part of the bazaar.
• Suleymaniye Mosque: I liked this one more than the Blue Mosque, but that might be because there was hardly anyone there.  Again we had to take off our shoes, and our friend quailster had to cover his legs with a cloth, so it looked like he was wearing a skirt the whole time.  I was also pestered by some kids who wanted to take our picture for one lira, but I ignored them and they ran around behind us as we drank in our surroundings.  The inner sanctum was much more peaceful than the Blue Mosque’s, illuminated by faintly glowing electric lights.  Later we sat in the courtyard a while, resting, and got to hear the call to prayer.

That day was finished with a fish dinner and much drinking.  I had a glass of rakı, of which I am not much of a fan.  Although I do think it is quite neat that it turns milky with the addition of water.  The next morning one of our numbers was feeling a little sick (I can’t imagine why ), so the rest of us went on a shopping excursion down İstiklal Avenue.  It rained quite a bit that morning, but we managed to duck into stores to avoid it.  After lunch we headed down to the pier to catch a boat for Prince Island.  This is a really nice destination, quite laid back, and a little off the standard tourist track (although we still ran into plenty of them).  The houses on the island are these beautiful mansions with very small, well trimmed yards.  They remind me a good deal of Savannah, these monuments of a bygone era.  We encountered a kitten arguing with a bird when we were strolling around, and, needless to say, we took the kitten’s side.

Our final night in Istanbul again found us on İstiklal Avenue, this time indulging in mitya dolma.  I also found a wonderful painting with the help of our female traveling companion.  It was a fine way to end our stay in a fine city.

Yesterday I received a communique from my esteemed colleague, elms-fu, from when he was gallivanting out in the jungles of the Philippines.  By far it is one of the most interesting pieces of mail I have ever received.  Not only does it include a picture card of the national hero General Miguel Malvar, but this line from his letter, which was written on stationary from the Williamsburg Conference Center (strange enough as that is):

We are about to slaughter a chicken and roast it on a pit of charchol [sic].

And am I to understand that elms-fu is/was reading the Odyssey?  If so, good show, sir!  I need to read that myself.  Admittedly, I should have read that before attempting Ulysses…

I have to finish this book before Monday.  The prospect of any part of it being spoiled by my co-workers motivates me, and so I am heartened to report that I’m almost half way done.  Not bad for a days work.  The line at Borders this morning seems so far away…  And I didn’t even have to reserve a copy!  Score!  Thus far, it is soooo much better than the previous book.  Well, maybe not soooo much better, but better nonetheless.  Must… finish… tomorrow!

So, my first post about the Cyprus trip was a little… long.  My other posts probably won’t be as long.  Although, having said that, they’ll be longer now.  That seems to be how things work out.  However, I was writing in an experimental (for me) style; I wanted to see what I could do with giving impressions and emotions rather than “Today we went to St. Hilarion Castle.  It was fun!”  I’m not sure how well I succeeded, and I know the writing is a bit of a mess.  I don’t feel the voice is very consistent.  But then again, I’m a computer scientist by training, with a fancy for Modernist literature.  So, :P.  The other parts will be more conventional, since that takes a hell of a lot less time to write.  And I’m kinda short on time. 

Watch out for snakes biting your heels at St. Hilarion Castle!

Naturally I was a bit apprehensive as I made my way through Heathrow’s illustrious Terminal 1 down to gate 22. My brain was creating worst case scenarios (work has been a little slow recently). What if my travel buddy, the world’s foremost expert on nyabots, was a no show? What if we ended up at the bottom of the beautiful, blue Mediterranean? I was relieved to turn the corner and find a bored looking Asian sitting amongst the Brits and Cypriots. “Maido!” Of course, the flight was delayed. And something was going on in Glasgow, according to the BBC. Most likely why my bag was searched not once, but twice.

Touching down in Larnaca, the reality sinks in. I’m far, far from home. The rear door opens and I’m struck by how arid it is as I clamber down the stairs (it was the first time I had to take a bus to the terminal since living in Asia). I walk straight up to the custom’s official and my passport is blessed with a fresh new stamp: CY 01.07.07 02 -> Larnaca. I smile. Collect the luggage, see the familiar faces amongst the crowd. Warm greetings as I get to meet our hosts. Jump into a brand new Honda Civic and off we go to Lefkoşa. Peering out the window, there are flamingos in the salt lakes. Wild flamingos. Somewhere south of the capital it starts raining. I suppose we did just come from England.

All the signs are in Greek and English. I try reading the Greek for fun. I might learn Greek some day. Passing through the city we approach the border. No sign of activity on the Greek side. Barbwire fences and grassy fields. The Turkish side. A member of our party takes my passport to get me a visa for the Turkish side. Another stamp, only on a separate sheet of paper. All the signs are in Turkish and English. I try reading the Turkish to try out what I taught myself. I might learn Turkish some day. We pass by a KFC. Only, instead of the Colonel it’s some Turkish guy. And instead of Kentucky it’s Kermiya.

Down past the hospital. We arrive. Tired, I trudge up the stairs with my suitcase. Sit on the couch in the entrance room. Snacks! The Russian thing is my favorite (although it isn’t Russian). Reminds me of the kibbeh I’ve had at Lebanese restaurants. Round the house to watch the meats being grilled. Salivation at the prospects. Wait a bit longer, then, dinner! Şiş kebab and şeftali! Hummus and yogurt! Various pickled plants! Pita! Dear God was it good. I am satiated. Finally, collapse into bed.

Many hours later, the door opens. Breakfast. Tahınlı (with tahini). Dear God is it good. Jump in the Civic and off we go. Out into the Cypriot countryside. Arid, dusty, lots of shrubs. It’s beautiful. The roads start to twist upwards. Passing through the main squares of tiny villages. Where the hell is Kantara? We stop along the side of the road. Before us stretches the whole of Cyprus. The Mediterranean sparkles like a sapphire to the east. I love the mountains. Back in the car, turn the corner to find a sign: Kantara ->. More twists and turns. Crazy college kids riding bikes down the narrow roads. Mediterranean to the north now. Is that Turkey?

Arrive at Kantara. The only other car in the parking lot belongs to the guy selling tickets. We have the place to ourselves. Walk along a narrow footpath to the castle. A lizard grabs our attention. It won’t pose for a picture. Looking east we see the Karpass Peninsular jutting out into the sea. The hills sit in a neat line. It’s beautiful. The castle awaits.

We run around like little kids. Looking up at the arrow slits. *snap* Walk through the main door to find a grassy hill and flowers to one side. Exploring woebegone rooms. This one has Arabic graffiti. Strange… Look out the window and see the Cypriot countryside. More exploring, looking out arrow slits. Wait. We’re hungry.

Back in the car. Down the twisting roads. The plains fly by. Park on a street in Gazi Mağusa. Short buildings line the road. We cross. Even more fantastic food: slow cooked lamb and potatoes. Another quick stop, then we head to the beach. The sun is setting over our shoulders as we slip into the warm waters. Children playing in the shallows. It isn’t that deep, really. What time is it? We have to go. Down the highway, we pass the turn off. <- Salamis. The sun has set. We park and walk to the ruins. Marble pillars are growing out of the earth. The amphitheater is rather crowded. A melody plays. I can't believe I'm sitting amongst ancient ruins listening to a Bulgarian band. I smile.

It’s Tuesday morning in Lefkoşa. Work is the furthest thing from my mind as we sit on the front porch. The sky a purest blue. Naked concrete and overgrown yards. There is news of an American diplomat being killed on the south side of Lefkosia. But we aren’t anywhere near that. We feel no fear as we drive down the dusty streets. Water? Of course. We bring sunscreen; we will be up on a mountain top today, plus the beach. It’s a necessity.

We enter the roundabout and turn onto the road to Girne. We will travel this road many times. I will become familiar with the advertisement in Greek for the casino. The land stretches out for miles, nary a house in sight. Speed camera: take it down to 65. We begin to climb the mountains. They seem to come out of nowhere, jutting out of the plains, a barrier for the sunny beaches of Girne.

A left turn and the road narrows. Do we need to show ID when we pass the army base? We ask for directions from the guard; he seems bothered by our inquiry, but he doesn’t ask for ID. Up we go. More army facilities. More barbwire fencing. And then, there it is! Like someone built a wall around a mountain peak and decided to put some buildings in it. It’s quite impressive. I have trouble imagining people building it.

We spill out of the car. I don my floppy hat and sunscreen. Can’t be too careful with my pasty, Northern European skin. A tour bus and Greek Cypriot license plates. A small stand sells water and postcards. Later. We purchase tickets. Two students and three adults. A picture of Ataturk on the wall. Pass through the entrance. It’s open, and pockmarked with cisterns. *snap* The castle center. The Byzantine church looms tall; impressive to build such a church way atop a mountain. One wonders how full it was on a Sunday morning. More wonderful buildings. We pass by a cypress tree. How ironic.

The royal apartments? Yes. Steep steps. Closer to the summit. The view is spectacular. More cisterns. An overgrown kitchen. Is that the hearth? No one to answer. Wait up! The shade of the apartments. Far larger than the one I left in Maryland. Better view, too. The coast and blue waters of the Mediterranean. And one hell of a drop. Prince John’s Tower? Sure!

More climbing. We sure will earn lunch. Another breathtaking view. Girne to our north. Army base to our east. Easy to see the enemy coming back in the day. A British couple approaches. Take our picture? Sure! We clamber back down. Pick up two postcards (Kantara and St. Hilarion). Down the narrow roads to Girne. Down to the beach. Pay the entrance fee. Change into swim trunks and claim five lounge chairs. Eat lunch (kofte). Sit around and talk some. Swim in the warm waters some. Cool off from the heat of the day. How did I live any other way? The sun is setting again. Wash off the salt water (and it is salty, great for floating); we have water pressure this time.

We stay up later than we probably should for Iskander kebab. And they were running out of döner kebab by the time we arrive, so only three of us get it. Doesn’t matter. There will be other opportunities. Return home. We get up early tomorrow. Way too early. It’s an early flight to Istanbul. Another fantastic day; the heat doesn’t even really bother me as I try to fall asleep… I’m thinking about Istanbul and wondering if anything’s changed in the 12 years since I was last there… But if Hagia Sophia hasn’t really changed in the past 1,500 years, why should Istanbul have in the past 12…..?

I swear I’m writing about my trip! I really need to pare down on the amount of details I give. Or, rather, I should have been updating as I went along. However, to keep you satiated, I present to you one of the most awesome sites on the Internet. ども, ども to a certain quailster…

I have returned from my travels abroad.  I suppose the idyllic life style I had assumed in Cyprus of lounging around on beaches and eating döner kebab and şeftali couldn’t last forever.  Especially since my money was fast running out.  Looking back now at the warm waters of Girne, the crowded streets of Istanbul, and the hot, dusty summit of the Acropolis, the prospect of doing laundry seems rather mundane.  But it must be done!  I promise to write more later, with more photos, but for now I shall leave this picture I took from a window in Hagia Sophia: