Thanksgiving in Turkey

"Hola" from Istanbul.

We met friend, Lisa (pictured above) and new friend

 Judy (not pictured) in Istanbul

 for Thanksgiving weekend. You’ll

see quite a few “not pictured” notations throughout

 this posting because Deb lost 

all of her photos (arghh….)

 Someone referred to the people of Istanbul as “Muslim lite.”

 We hope that wasn't meant to be derogatory, but it may be an apt

description. The government is officially “secular," with clear separation of church (or

mosque) and state. Alcohol is served in many places and head scarves on women

are banned from government buildings and universities. Nevertheless, you can’t escape that it’s

an Islamic city. Walking down the street you will suddenly hear the call to prayer over

 a loudspeaker from a minaret. This chanting, which ripples throughout

 the city, happens five times per day and most people on the streets don’t break stride. 

We never saw anyone veer to a nearby mosque or drop to their

knees (although it's likely some did). Prayer is one of the pillars

of Islam, but praying in the mosque is not obligatory except 

on Friday, their holy day. Prayer, like religion, appears to be a private

 matter here in Istanbul.

Istanbul is a tourist "mecca." In one day you can take in the top four sites: 

Blue Mosque, Hagia Sofia, Basilica Cistern, and the 

Topkapi Palace. Here are a few shots of each:

Blue Mosque: one of the few mosques in the world to have six minarets.

Muslims are required to perform ablutions before 
they enter the mosque for prayer. 

Hagia Sophia: Formerly an Orthodox Basilica, then 
a mosque, and now a museum.

 Christian images and Arabic calligraphy, side-by-side.

Immense and beautifully illuminated with circular chandeliers.

Basilica Cistern: This subterranean cistern provided 
water for ancient Constantinople.
Walkways allow visitors to explore this huge underground area.
 Very eerie.

Topaki Palace: Primary residence of the Ottoman Sultans for 400 years.
This place was immense, one room after another.

Harem rooms were gorgeously tiled, with comfy lounging areas.

Ultimately, for us, what makes a trip memorable is wandering down streets, 

taking in the ambiance and stumbling on unexpected finds.

 That’s what happened on our second day.

  We decided to walk across a bridge that spanned the Bosphorus Strait

 to the Asian side of Istanbul.

We were so proud of ourselves for 

setting foot in Asia. 

(We found out later that we were

not in Asia; we took the wrong bridge!)

Not knowing where to go, we just wandered around for a bit. 

And then, by chance, we found a mosque. 

It was open with a lone guard, and no one else. 

The guard encouraged us

to enter.

We took our shoes off at the door (not pictured) and 

walked on the plush Oriental carpet.

The guard turned on the low hanging lights, and we 

had the place to ourselves.

It was quiet. The mosque was beautiful. No furniture. 

No pictures of people or animals (figurative art is against the religion).

 No tourists. Just beautiful tile work, architecture, carpet, and

lights. It was intimate and unexpected, and we loved it.

Next unplanned stop was a coffee shop (not pictured). 

We had wanted to try Turkish coffee,

and so we did. Turkish coffee is not a 

particular blend. The name refers to how it’s prepared. 

Generally, fine coffee grounds are boiled in a pot. 

The coffee is served in tiny espresso cups, with the dregs 

settling to the bottom. That's right, it's not filtered!

 The coffee is strong and surprisingly palatable! 

After our walk around the non-Asian side, we
 returned across the bridge.

 Fishermen were shoulder-to-shoulder on this bridge, 
catching sardines.

 Hundreds of fishermen and thousands of sardines.

You got the sense that they did this everyday.

Although this is not tourist season, the Spice Market 
was mobbed. 
We’re sure there were plenty of “us,”

 but most looked like locals. We shuffled along,

 trying to keep an eye out for each other, so that 

we didn’t get hopelessly lost.

We bought a bunch of spices and Turkish Delight, 

which we recommend. If you just shuffle

and see the sights, it’s not nearly as 

fun as actually buying. (And this is coming 

from someone who is not much a shopper!)

Next: More shopping at the Grand Bazaar. 

Picture a warren of alleys, overflowing with

goods. It’s hard to imagine how many people 

it would take to buy all this stuff. Can merchants

actually make money here? We have never seen so 

much for sale. In fact, all of Istanbul, in

and out of the Bazaar and Spice Market, was 

simply bulging with stuff to buy.

“Assertively” hawking goods is a way of life here.

 But if you say “no thanks,” smile, and

don’t give further eye contact, they generally 

will leave you alone. Learning how to negotiate

hawkers is a process. Sometimes we’d set our 

jaw and stare straight ahead…. then we’d

feel guilty (“We are acting like rude Americans!”). 

Then we’d smile and be polite and chat

a little (but hope they'd leave us alone). 
And sometimes, we’d just break 

down and buy the 

dang map, bracelet, or whatever.

By the end of the day, as we hauled our bags of purchased “stuff,"

we started smiling at the hawkers and enjoyed their

 “creative approaches.”  A few of our favorite one-liners: “I have things inside my 

shop as beautiful as you.” “ Let me help you spend

your money.” “Let me help you buy something you don’t need.”

 “I have something you’ve never seen before.”

The end to another memorable trip!
 Hasta luego!

Chefcaouen, Morocco

Last weekend, we took the ferry from Spain to Tangier, 
and drove with a guide to Chefcaouen, Morocco.
We fell in love with this place...

Mustafa was our personal driver/guide. For the 3-hour 
trip from Tangier to Chefcaouen, we spoke openly with Mustafa 
about Islam, women's rights, the sheep sacrifice that took place 
the weekend before, and politics. He was proud that Morocco was so 
progressive. Jews, Muslims, and Christians live side by side here 
without conflict. Women can drive, work for the same wages 
as men, and also have the right to seek divorce. The time we 
spent learning about his country was a highlight of the weekend. 

Nestled in the Rif mountains, Chefcaouen is painted 
in shades of beautiful blue.

According to Mustafa, people with money have moved
 out of the town. Those that remain are poor.
We thought we'd see mainly older people, but we saw plenty of
 children playing in the streets (it was a Saturday).

This is one of our favorite photos. 
Chefcaouen is about color, texture and imperfection. 

Locals did not want their pictures taken. 
We respected their wishes, of course (or tried to...) 
But it was so tempting to photograph the people we saw: 
Berber women with traditional garb, country women 
with big straw hats, men in long djellabas, women in scarves, 
and a few in full blue burkas. 
So different and exotic. 

We couldn't resist...

Children taking home bread (hidden under the cloth).

Local women do their laundry in this river that runs 
through Chefcaouen.We saw women washing their clothes, 
then hanging them on trees to dry.

Pigment for paint colors inside and outside the home.

We had a phenomenal lunch at Casa Hassan. This was Deb's 
bowl of couscous, almonds,currants and chicken.
 Food, overall, in Morocco was delicious.
We never had a bad (or even mediocre) meal.
Most of Morocco is dry, but they sure like their Cokes!

In Chefcaouen, Mustafa handed us over to an able local guide.
Abu Salam was a spry 72. He took us around the town 
and into the mountains.
 He seemed to know everyone, and in his care, no one ever 
bothered or hassled us.
 (He gave us permission to take this photo). 

We could have done an entire photo essay 
on the doors in this town. 
This one was just one of the beauties.

Pottery was aplenty. These are a few of the pieces 
we bought (in Tangier).
All hand painted in Fes (Fez). 

Another irresistible blue view. We took 
hundreds of photos.
 It was hard to pick just a few.

The Hat Man store is famous here for, you guessed it, hats.

Another shot in blue.

We love our door knockers. We've photographed 
many in Spain, and found a few goodies in Morocco.

At the end of the day, we drove back to Tangier 
and didn't say much in the car. 
When you get bombarded by so much that is exotic and new, 
you need to quietly sit with it for awhile. 
Winding through the mountains, we passed 
men plowing fields with their mules, 
others drinking sweet mint tea in dilapidated bars,
 and locals selling huge bags of onions along the roadside. 
This kind of foreign travel leaves you feeling
 exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. 
It was a terrific weekend.


(Fez in February, here we come....:)

Basque Country and Rioja

Over Labor Day Weekend, we traveled to the Basque Country in northern Spain.
What a different world than our southern Andalucia.
First, check out the language. Lots of z's and k's---more Greek than Spanish.
The Basque language is unique.

The Guggenheim Museum is the main draw in Bilbao, the major center of Basque Country.
 Since 1997, this museum has changed this previously industrial city into a major cultural center in the North.
The architecture of the museum far surpassed
 the interior exhibits, in our opinion. Cool spider, right?

Guarding the Guggenheim is this puppy made of flowers. Well watered and weeded. 

Although it is in Spain, Bilbao has the feel of a northern European city.

Next stop on our driving tour: Guernica. The Peace Museum is on the left. What a gem.
During the Spanish Civil War (1937) German planes bombed and obliterated this sleepy town, 
with Franco's permission. The bombing has often been considered one of the first raids in the history of 
modern military aviation on a defenseless civilian population.
 Instead of seething in resentment, the people of Guernica created this wonderful little
museum that celebrates peace and freedom for all oppressed people.

On the road  leaving Guernica. This does not look like the Spain
 we know. It's more like an Irish landscape.

The Basque coast is magnificent. 

Lekeitio: A fishing port on the Basque coast between Bilbao and
our destination of San Sebastian

Working fishing boats. Who knows what this says, but it's another example
of how un-Spanish the language seems.

Leaving Lekeitio, we found ourselves driving through the mountains in the middle
 of a professional  bicycle race for numerous miles.
We looked like one of the "support cars." (It caused a little stress!)

We arrived at our hotel in San Sebastian. This is the view of the Bay of
Biscay from our hotel room.

A view of San Sebastian's harbor (not the best picture) from our hotel .
A major resort town in the Basque Country, this place is for the wealthy.
The food was most cosmopolitan. What a wonderful surprise!

Next stop:  Rioja, the wine country, about 2
 hours south of San Sebastian.

Rioja is home to red wine production in Spain.

Our hotel was part of a winery. We had a private tour of the wine cellars and
private dining rooms below the Inn.  (Monges, 2000; excellent wine).

What we learned....

On our visit to the Basque Country, we realized how vast and varied Spain is. The language,
history, people, food, and culture of the area are so different than what we know in Andalucia.
There has been a long-standing desire for greater regional autonomy in the North, and having seen
the area with its own uniqueness, we can better appreciate their internal conflict.