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About Ramblings of a Hopeless Khowaga

Welcome to my Web site. My name is Chris, and I’ll be your host. I live in Austin, Texas, with my partner, Ray, and our child dog, Mocha. You can read more about me, learn 100 random things about me, and if you’re wondering what the heck a khowaga is, click here. Feel free to browse, read, and leave comments!

Tag: ‘ankara’



Here, there, everywhere

Friday, July 3rd, 2009

I’m currently sitting in seat 5B on an AnadoluJet flight from Ankara to Sanli Urfa in the southeast part of Turkey.  We’ve been moving rather quickly these past couple of days — while we were sitting in the airport in Antalya, from whence we departed just a couple of hours ago, we had to take a moment to reflect on the fact that we have been in the country all of three days.  It feels like we’ve been here much longer.

In all honesty, this program has gone much better than I had let myself hope.  The organization that I’m working with is somewhat legendary for packing the itineraries on these trips so full that at least half of the participants wind up having to sit out a day or two due to illness incurred from lack of sleep.  Hence, I’m rather pleased that it does appear that they listened to my pleas not to overschedule the program, even if at first glance it may not have appeared as such.

When last I checked in, I was on an early morning flight to Izmir, Turkey’s third largest city.  I’ve never actually been to Izmir, and that, unfortunately, didn’t really change this time either.  We were met at Adnan Menderes airport and boarded a bus from which we went directly to the Greco-Roman city of Ephesus, an hour south.

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This was the group photo that we took that somehow I never wound up actually being in.  (“Hang on, I’m going to use my timer … where are you all going?”)  Oh, well.

There are, for the record, a lot more photos on my Flickr account.  As I’m doing most of my blogging offline, it’s very difficult for me to link to them from here, but check them out, OK?

Where was I?  Ephesus.  It’s a large old city, and I’ve been there before.  Still looks old.  The new attractions this time around were that the very large amphitheater was open (last time it was closed), although I walked in, took one look, and realized that I would have given myself heatstroke walking up to the top.  Instead, I discovered the other new attraction: Royal Caribbean and Celebrity Cruises pay local people to dress up like Romans and act out cheese-tastic skits for their passengers coming in from the nearby port of Kusadasi.

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This appeared to be a swordfighting match – it was kind of hard to tell, since the two fighters just yelled a lot a la Conan the Barbarian.  I guess that’s what you have to do with such a multilingual crowd.

After Ephesus, we went up the hill to the Meryamane Evi, the house where it is reputed where the Virgin Mary lived her last years in this earthy existence.  Most of you probably do not recall (as I don’t think I blogged it at the time), but the last time I was at Meryamane, one of the people in my group pitched a complete and utter fit in the parking lot because one of the interpretive signs at the site said that Mary lived there “until she died.”  As good Catholics know (and this woman was a better Catholic than you, and wanted everyone to know it) Mary did not die — she fell asleep and was lifted into heaven by angels.  The fact that she had earlier sneered that Eastern Orthodoxy was still full of superstitious beliefs that had been removed from Catholicism was an irony lost only on her.

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Anyway, as pieces of real estate went, Mary had a pretty nice one.  It’s set on a hilltop just outside where the walls of the city of Ephesus would have been located amongst the fir trees and pleasant flowering vines, and it catches a nice sea breeze coming in off of the Aegean Sea.  I should be so lucky.

Then came the visit to the pottery factory.  I’m always resistant to these sorts of “quick visits to a local factory” because they inevitably turn into sales pitches, but it wasn’t bad as these things go … and it turns out that membership has its privileges.  She knew the group we were with and offered us a 50% discount on the spot.  Unfortunately, that means that most of it was still out of my price range, but …

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Purdy, ain’t it?

After that, lunch at a ranch … that turned out to just be a ranch.  No actual house there — we thought we had been invited to someone’s home for lunch, and that turned out not to be the case.  They did, however, have a random yurt in the yard, which got us going on at length about words that are fun to say — “yurt” being one of them.

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Yurt!

So, after the yurt excursion, we did a double-shot in Selcuk to the site of the Basilica of St. John and the so-called Jesus Mosque.  The problem with the first is that they don’t actually know who St. John was — they’re not sure if it’s the Apostle, the one who wrote the Gospels, the one who wrote Revelation, or a completely different John.

It’s a prettier site than I remembered, though:

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Next door is the mosque of Isabey.  Isa is the Islamic name of Jesus, but despite the fact that everyone said it was the Jesus mosque, it turns out that it was named for some guy who lived in the thirteenth century named — you guessed it, Isabey.  Close, but no cigar.

After that was our first visit to a school on this trip, which was interesting.  As of now, we’ve had three with a fourth pending.

Shortly after the school visit, it was back to Adnan Menderes airport for a flight to Antalya that arrived at 11:30 pm.  Exhausted,we trundled off to the Marmara Hotel, which turned out to be a five star deluxe on the coast (not to be confused with “the beach”).  But when your coast looks like this, who cares?

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The day was fraught with various ventures: morning visit to the Antalya Museum, followed by lunch at a local school, followed by a walking tour of old Antalya that lasted for three whole blocks.  Again, when the blocks look like this, who am I to complain?

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This was followed by the inevitable shopping excursion to a carpet store.  The guide was very sneaky on that front — after consulting with our hosts, the four of us had unanimously decided that there would be no carpet shopping.  Then prayer time came and the three of them went into a nearby mosque to pray …and so the tour guide suggested that a nice place to wait for them might be the carpet shop.  Ha ha!  I went into the mosque and sat in the air conditioning instead.  If I buy a carpet — and that’s a big if — I’ll do it in Istanbul at the end.  I’m flirting with overweight luggage flying domestically in Turkey and I don’t need that weighing on my conscious.

I’m going to wrap up this narrative here.  At the moment it’s half past midnight in Sanliurfa (see map), and although I’m wide awake, balancing a hot laptop on my stomach isn’t the best thing to do to get ready for bed.  More later …

About the Banner: Istanbul

Thursday, October 12th, 2006

Turkish novelist Orhan Pamuk was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature today, and this has inspired me to create a new banner:

Istanbul

The original photo is here, not much different from the cropped version used in the banner:

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This is Istiklal Cadessi (Independence Avenue) in the heart of Beyoglu, Istanbul’s fashionable European inspired neighborhood. Istiklal is the wild heart of cosmopolitan Istanbul, where cultures, races, creeds, nations, and genders all come together in a loud bizarre mishmash the likes of which you haven’t seen unless you’ve rewatched Tales from the City recently.

I went to Turkey in 2004 for the first time on a Fulbright program that took us first to the troubled island of Cyprus. Coming from a Greek-American family, I’d heard all of the horror stories about both places, about what “they” did to “us.” For the record, both halves of my family are from Greece proper, and we have no relatives in Cyprus, so I’m not sure who “us” is, but that’s another story altogether. As I had begun to suspect, after some time in both places, I realized that most of my relatives had no idea what they were talking about.

On the other hand, there are skeletons in the closets of all three nations: Cyprus, Greece, and Turkey, and so far it seems that Cyprus is the only one of the three that has even remotely begun to take a hard look at itself (even though it’s also the only one that has reason and motive to place a good chunk of the blame for its current situation on outsiders).

When I suggested at a recent family gathering that Greeks and Turks have more in common than they do in difference, my aunt began speaking in tongues and crossed herself so much that I was afraid she’d develop carpal tunnel syndrome. Her Greek sister-in-law (by which I mean that she’s actually from Greece, not of the diaspora) was far less troubled by this statement. And so the struggle continues.

Which brings us back to Orhan Pamuk. He’s been in trouble in Turkey recently for taking his government to task for not allowing open discussion of That Which We Shall Not Discuss: namely, the issue of what happened to Turkey’s Christian minorities in the waning days of the Ottoman Empire (whether it be genocide or not), and the issue of Turkey’s Kurds, for whom the problem can best be summed up in a statement that I heard in a lecture in Ankara: “There is no Kurdish problem. There is no problem for the Kurds at all. They can be anything they choose, as long as they choose to be part of the Turkish nation.”

Pamuk’s greatest achievements, though, as Svenskaakademien recognized in their choice, have to do with his writing. His books play off the conflict and union of cultures as East and West have combined to create something new. Anyone whose read any of his novels recognizes that he’s also taken a uniquely western form of writing (the novel) and made it into something new. (My personal favorite is My Name is Red, set amongst intrigue and murder in 16th century Istanbul).

Pamuk is only the second writer from an Islamic country to be awarded the prize, the first being Egyptian writer Naguib Mahfouz, who died in August. Where Mahfouz was a popular writer, Pamuk seeks to re-define writing on his own terms. Both of them have loads to offer us in the West by way of introspect into how a part of the world that we view only in terms of difference and conflict really thinks, feels, and acts.

Rain, Rain, Go Away …

Friday, July 16th, 2004

Ankara [GP:Ankara], low 20s, rain. It’s cold and I wish I had a jacket.

Typing this on the spot, which is as unusual as the layout of the keyboard that I’m using.

I’ll write something more detailed later – There’s really not so much to say about days of lectures and another visit to the Anıtkabir. Remind me to tell you all about Richard.

Last night, I ventured out wıth Rob and Ali, our tour guide for the next portion of the program, to a local club about the size of my living room where a live band played covers of songs that were never really popular in the first place. It was fun, but we were out late, and my mental attitude was less than stellar today. I’d like to blame it on the lack of sleep and the fact that the only thing more stupid than Rob continuing to order more rounds of beer last night is the fact that I kept drinking them, but I really can’t.

Now is the portion of my journal where I sit in the pool hall/Internet cafe and tell you about all the people on the trip that are annoying the crap out of me. I will try to keep it short enough so as not to acquire emphasema while I type…

There are questions I have about why some of these people are here. Witness the one woman who asked the following question. We were at the offices of the Southern Anatolia Development Project (GAP), a multi-zillion dollar endeavor that is supposed to bring the area of the southeast hinterlands into the 21st century, stem the flow of rural to urban migration AND piss off Iraq and Syria all at the same time. The President of the project, who took time out of his schedule to meet with us in his office (a schedule which included face time with the President of Syria the day before), and this woman, whose questions we save because they’re worth writing down, asks the following question: Could you tell us a little about the knick-knacks on your desk? (You think I’m kidding? I wish…)

Then we have our hyper-Christian who refused to set foot in one of the mosques in Northern Cyprus because it had originally been a church and she couldn’t bear the idea of sanctioning that kind of desecration (given that the Ottomans have been gone for nearly a century, one wonders exactly how her entrance could be construed as sanctioning anything). She has no filter between cerebrum and tongue and has absolutely no ability to tell when she’s asking inappropriate questions – of any one at any time. Given that I brought Ray to our last dinner in Austin, I’m sure you can imagine some of the conversations the two of us have had. This morning we had a faculty member from the Department of Theology at Ankara University speak to us on Islam and she sat and wrote postcards the whole time. I repeat – why, exactly, are these people here? Oy, vay.

At any rate. I have enjoyed Ankara fully, cult of Atatürk and all. Ankara is just a bit too familiar – last night at dinner in a restaurant in an old Ottoman house on top of a hill overlooking the city, I was struck by a wave of homesickness and a realization that despite the fact that it feels like I’ve been gone forever, there’s still a long way to go before we’re done. I’m game, but tonight I plan to go to bed really early. Even the most ardent and enthusiastic of us need to vent and keep to ourselves for a little while from time to time.

Off to Cappadocia in the morning. Sorry to leave Ankara (sorrier still to try to figure out how to get all that stuff in my suitcase again), but happy to move on all the same…

The Power of Positive Thinking

Tuesday, July 13th, 2004

Ankara [GP:Ankara], low 30s, partly cloudy

Two sides of the same coin today with dramatically different results. The afternoon – the significantly less interesting part of the day – was a lecture from a professor at Middle East Technical University (obviously designed by the same people who did American University – it has the same “Let’s subdue Poland” kind of architecture). She talked about the Turkish political system and then gender politics – and I’m still not sure what gender politics actually is, because what she talked about wasn’t what I associate with gender politics.

At any rate. Dry lectures – everything bad about Turkish society is found in the countryside. Apparently, just by driving over the city limits you become sophisticated and incapable of following – and I quote – backward traditions. What was more interesting was the tight line that our lecturer walked. She was much more open and honest than our speaker yesterday (she didn’t, for example, go off for 20 minutes about Cyprus when she found out we’d just been there). It was interesting but far too long, and for some reason we have yet to find an air conditioner that really works.

The morning was the much more interesting experience. We went to visit a community center in a gecekondu – literally “built in one night,” it’s the name given to the neighborhoods that were originally squatter settlements built in the countryside. Shades of Tanzania and India from last summer. Here’s a group that started an organization to help themselves get ahead, focusing on women and youth programs.

The people were just incredible. One of them arrived somewhat late, and explained in Turkish that she’d been sick before launching into song while playing the saz – a stringed instrument that’s a bit smaller than a bouzouki. I don’t know what she was singing, but the raw emotion coming out of this complete stranger as she sang for us was overpowering. There were several wet eyes in the audience, among them one of our hosts, Seçil from Fulbright. Seçil is Elegant with a capital E, and very prim and proper, so when she burst into tears while one of the women was reading a poem she’d written, it was unexpected and very profound. We spent barely an hour and a half there, but the bus was strangely quiet as we drove away – and with this group, that’s a very strong statement.

Turkey still perplexes me. It’s familiar and strange all at once, and I don’t really know what to do about it. I’ve thought it was boring at times – it’s not exotic enough, everything is too familiar – and at other times I’ve found it bizarre and fascinating. I wonder if that conundrum will ever go away.

Walking the Party Line

Monday, July 12th, 2004

Ankara [GP:Ankara], about 32, partly cloudy

First full day in Turkey. The program in Ankara consists of a lot of lectures that are supposed to provide background to the activities we’ll be doing the rest of the time we’re here. So we set off this morning for the campus of Bilkent University in the suburbs of Ankara. I’m not exactly sure which suburbs as my mental map of the city appears to be upside down.

Bilkent, founded in 1986, has a stunningly beautiful campus that would work off my gut quickly as it’s all hills, like the rest of Ankara seems to be. The campus is new, gleaming, and modern – I shall quit using these words as they would be repeated often in trying to describe most of the parts of Ankara that I’ve seen thus far. Bilkent describes itself as the best university in Turkey, and it was certainly impressive, I’ll say that.

Our first lecture was on Turkish foreign policy from a guy who gave us our first real dosage of The Truth As it is Told in Turkey. All of the regular cast members were present: There Was No Armenian Genocide, There Is No Kurdish Problem, and The Problem In Cyprus Is All The Fault of the Greeks. While there ARE two sides to every story, and I certainly spent a lot of time in Cyprus trying to read between the lines, there was no real opportunity for line reading because truths set in stone don’t use lines. Nor was discussion appreciated. My tongue was bruised by the end because I bit it so much during the proceedings. We’re guests here and I won’t complain to anyone but my journal. The lecture was useful because it provided a very firm grounding in the official Turkish perspective – I worry, however, that because we’ll be moving around so much we won’t have much of an opportunity to get the unofficial Turkish perspective. The sheer rigidity of the lecture left little room even for exploration of any of the issues – I don’t know where we’re going to get another side of the story while we’re here.

Another lecture in the afternoon – the transition from the Ottoman Empire to the Turkish Republic – would have been interesting if the room weren’t so hot and the professor’s English dotted with a very bizarre accent that I’d never heard before – he seemed incapable of pronouncing the letter “d” properly, which is strange because Turkish also has the letter “d.” All the same, I was a little embarrassed at how many people in our group appeared to be completely incapable of keeping their eyes open.

After the lecture we went to the Anitkabir – the mausoleum of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk. I actually enjoyed the experience – the place certainly gives an idea of the reverence this nation has for its leader. I, myself, am still torn about Atatürk. How in the world did this man who looks almost exactly like Bela Lugosi manage to convince an entire nation to throw away centuries of tradition and follow him? I suppose one has to take the Machiavellian view that the end justified the means – Turkey certainly is a forward thinking nation – but I can’t help wondering how some of the things that he did were perceived at the time. It’s hard to ask. I tried to ask someone today how the move of the capital from Istanbul – the imperial capital of the ages – to Ankara, which at the time was a backwater, was perceived – did people think he’d gone completely mad? No, of course not, they understood. I just couldn’t help thinking that some of the government officials must have taken one look at Ankara and wondered whether the Great Man had completely lost his marbles.

There’s not much of old Ankara to see, really. Most of the “old buildings” are barely a century old – the Turkish Republic itself celebrated its 80th year last year. It’s hard to think of a country so steeped in history and tradition as being so young. And so, I still have a lot to learn.

The language barrier is going to take some time to get used to. I didn’t realize how much Greek I was speaking in Cyprus until I got here and suddenly I can’t communicate with anyone. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been somewhere where I can’t communicate at all – and a lot less people speak English here than in Cyprus. I’m hurriedly trying to learn some Turkish – partly because a lot of people today seemed to think I am Turkish and tried to talk to me and it went straight over my head. Ick. I just smile and say “Merhaba” a lot. Maybe people will pat me on the head. There’s a good foreigner…

At any rate. It’s well past midnight and I ought to shut the computer down and get some sleep. Tomorrow is another big day…

 

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