Tuesday, January 23, 2007
I forgot to mention...We're going to France next week: Brittany, Normandy, the Loire and Paris. My job is to plan Loire and Paris, and Chris will do the others. If anyone has any great ideas for these places - restaurants, sites we must see, a great place to stay in the Loire (we're set on that front for Paris), SHOPS I MUST VISIT, please leave me a comment here and let me know! THANKS!!
Monday, January 22, 2007
New Years Part II:
I am so lame, I know. I try to keep up with my posts on here but ridiculous things like "work" and the like are always getting in the way. Anyway, before I end up waiting until NEXT new years, I thought I should post about the rest of our trip to Bulgaria, which was made even better (I think) by the trials of getting there.
Since the snow was minimal (although it didn't seem too bad to me, on the bunny hill, on my first day skiing in at least 5 years, Chris and Nam weren't too fond of skiing over rocks and grass on their fancy skis and snowboards) we spent alot of time at the nearby hotel's spa, sitting in the sauna and getting massages. There are certainly worse ways to spend a vacation. After we finally settled into our hotel and spent a little time on the first day at said spa, we hit my new favorite restaurant, Pitsina Kruchma. DuWane and Chris knew of this place from last year's visit, and the owner of the restaurant recognized them too. The hospitality at this restaurant and in much of Bansko (much unlike the hospitality of the Bulgarian customs agents) is Turkish-like in how at-home they make you feel. When we walked in, the place was nearly empty, but the "best table" was in front of the fireplace. It had a 'reserved' sign on it, but the owners' daughter came over and told us, "My mother wants me to tell you that you guys should sit here by the fireplace, but that our friends from Sofia are coming in a few hours. I'm telling you this not because we want you to move, but because they will join you. They're all very nice." And sure enough, after an AMAZING meal - they have these potato-cake things with ham and cheese and all crispy on the outside, and surprisingly good domestic wine, not to mention HUGE portions (after Nam finished this dish, he started in on the half of my garlic and cheese stuffed fish that I couldn't eat!)
- the friends from Sofia arrived. We had already had a couple bottles of wine and, as for how the night progressed, I think the photos can tell it better than I can:
(that's the owner I'm dancing with...)
You get the idea, it was a perfect night and the perfect antidote to our hellish travels!
The next day was our one day of skiing, and it was also New Year's Eve! While on the slopes, Chris and Nam met an American couple, Lori and Dave, who are doing the International teaching thing, like we are, in Cyprus. They said they approached Chris because he was the only person on the mountain Telemarking, and I'm so glad they did! We met up with them that night - I felt terrible that we said we'd meet them before midnight, but due to the dinner we ended up having (see below), we finally got to the bar at about 1:30...
For dinner that night, we wanted to go to a traditional Bulgarian Mehana, much like the night before, but they are really working over the tourism thing, and while our first night's meal cost us about $12 apiece, all of the restaurants wanted at least 50 euros, and sometimes more, per person for a meal. So we found a pizza place that was completely empty and not doing the prix fixe thing, and went in. Another serendipitous find, as the food, both my pizza (wood fired) and the guys' food (all Bulgarian stuff) were wonderful! The waiter
was a really nice guy and told us that he'd give us a free bottle of champagne if we stayed through midnight. We were having such a great time that we decided to do that, and were again, were so glad we did, as I've never experienced a New Years quite like it. The owners' of the restaurant and their family were all dining next to us, cheers-ing us (Nazdrave in Bulgarian) and dancing around, lighting sparklers. Then we went outside to watch the fireworks displays, which were great, but not as good as the show of one of the owners or perhaps a family member, who was shooting off a gun to ring in the new year
After that, we took a bunch of pictures:
and watched DuWane get beaten by a stick (I guess it's Bulgarian tradition that kids make 'wands' from sticks and decorate them and go around whacking people with them for good luck)
Then we left to meet our new friends who, thankfully, waited around for us!
We had a great night that night, and the next day just walked around Bansko (I won't fully detail the disaster Chris and I had trying to find lunch. It was like the border crossing part II. Suffice it to say, it took four hours and we ended up with crepes. Great crepes, but crepes.)
The next day, the four of us and our new friends set off in search of some thermal springs that Lori had heard about. It turned out that it's a pool in a hotel that has the mineral water, and not some natural, gorgeous spring, but we grabbed a few beers and hung out in the warm water for hours. Here are some pics:
We're all very coordinated...
Oh, I forgot to mention the weird parade we saw while waiting for our 4 hour crepes...Men walking around covered in animal skins pounding drums...Sounds strange. and it was. But it was very cool looking too.
and my favorite...
The next day or so progressed about the same way, kind of lazy, good food, good wine, it was nice. When we left to head back to work, we took one bus to another bus to the border and it took only about 7 or 8 hours to get there. When we got off the bus and got to the car, Chris sort of walked ahead of us to make sure it was there. I see him throw down his bag and curse loudly. I walk around to see what the problem is - there's a boot on his car. I was afraid we'd just have to drive back with it, a la when Homer Simpson got booted in NYC...thump...thump...But Chris, as determined as I've ever seen him, walks over to the tire, kind of shimmies the boot, and it pops right off. Fine Turkish construction if I've ever seen it...If there's anything I regret, it's not taking that boot with us. But I did take a photo for posterity:
Oh yes, and one other thing. I'm not sure if it was mentioned in Chris' summer details about Bulgaria, but apparently Bulgarian women are the most beautiful women on the planet. This is the first thing his friends told me about when I asked about their roadtrip this summer. And I'm not kidding. Anyway, the Bulgarians must take some pride in this. It's been awhile since I've been home, but I seem to remember that the "women" signs for bathrooms in the US are nowhere near as "developed"
Compare:
http://static.flickr.com/4/7328348_b35abc8afa_m.jpg
I am so lame, I know. I try to keep up with my posts on here but ridiculous things like "work" and the like are always getting in the way. Anyway, before I end up waiting until NEXT new years, I thought I should post about the rest of our trip to Bulgaria, which was made even better (I think) by the trials of getting there.
Since the snow was minimal (although it didn't seem too bad to me, on the bunny hill, on my first day skiing in at least 5 years, Chris and Nam weren't too fond of skiing over rocks and grass on their fancy skis and snowboards) we spent alot of time at the nearby hotel's spa, sitting in the sauna and getting massages. There are certainly worse ways to spend a vacation. After we finally settled into our hotel and spent a little time on the first day at said spa, we hit my new favorite restaurant, Pitsina Kruchma. DuWane and Chris knew of this place from last year's visit, and the owner of the restaurant recognized them too. The hospitality at this restaurant and in much of Bansko (much unlike the hospitality of the Bulgarian customs agents) is Turkish-like in how at-home they make you feel. When we walked in, the place was nearly empty, but the "best table" was in front of the fireplace. It had a 'reserved' sign on it, but the owners' daughter came over and told us, "My mother wants me to tell you that you guys should sit here by the fireplace, but that our friends from Sofia are coming in a few hours. I'm telling you this not because we want you to move, but because they will join you. They're all very nice." And sure enough, after an AMAZING meal - they have these potato-cake things with ham and cheese and all crispy on the outside, and surprisingly good domestic wine, not to mention HUGE portions (after Nam finished this dish, he started in on the half of my garlic and cheese stuffed fish that I couldn't eat!)
 |
| From New Years 200... |
- the friends from Sofia arrived. We had already had a couple bottles of wine and, as for how the night progressed, I think the photos can tell it better than I can:
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| From New Years 200... |
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| From New Years 200... |
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| From New Years 200... |
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| From New Years 200... |
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| From New Years 200... |
(that's the owner I'm dancing with...)
You get the idea, it was a perfect night and the perfect antidote to our hellish travels!
The next day was our one day of skiing, and it was also New Year's Eve! While on the slopes, Chris and Nam met an American couple, Lori and Dave, who are doing the International teaching thing, like we are, in Cyprus. They said they approached Chris because he was the only person on the mountain Telemarking, and I'm so glad they did! We met up with them that night - I felt terrible that we said we'd meet them before midnight, but due to the dinner we ended up having (see below), we finally got to the bar at about 1:30...
For dinner that night, we wanted to go to a traditional Bulgarian Mehana, much like the night before, but they are really working over the tourism thing, and while our first night's meal cost us about $12 apiece, all of the restaurants wanted at least 50 euros, and sometimes more, per person for a meal. So we found a pizza place that was completely empty and not doing the prix fixe thing, and went in. Another serendipitous find, as the food, both my pizza (wood fired) and the guys' food (all Bulgarian stuff) were wonderful! The waiter
 |
| From New Years 200... |
was a really nice guy and told us that he'd give us a free bottle of champagne if we stayed through midnight. We were having such a great time that we decided to do that, and were again, were so glad we did, as I've never experienced a New Years quite like it. The owners' of the restaurant and their family were all dining next to us, cheers-ing us (Nazdrave in Bulgarian) and dancing around, lighting sparklers. Then we went outside to watch the fireworks displays, which were great, but not as good as the show of one of the owners or perhaps a family member, who was shooting off a gun to ring in the new year
 |
| From New Years 200... |
After that, we took a bunch of pictures:
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| From New Years 200... |
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| From New Years 200... |
and watched DuWane get beaten by a stick (I guess it's Bulgarian tradition that kids make 'wands' from sticks and decorate them and go around whacking people with them for good luck)
 |
| From New Years 200... |
Then we left to meet our new friends who, thankfully, waited around for us!
We had a great night that night, and the next day just walked around Bansko (I won't fully detail the disaster Chris and I had trying to find lunch. It was like the border crossing part II. Suffice it to say, it took four hours and we ended up with crepes. Great crepes, but crepes.)
The next day, the four of us and our new friends set off in search of some thermal springs that Lori had heard about. It turned out that it's a pool in a hotel that has the mineral water, and not some natural, gorgeous spring, but we grabbed a few beers and hung out in the warm water for hours. Here are some pics:
 |
| From New Years 200... |
 |
| From New Years 200... |
We're all very coordinated...
Oh, I forgot to mention the weird parade we saw while waiting for our 4 hour crepes...Men walking around covered in animal skins pounding drums...Sounds strange. and it was. But it was very cool looking too.
 |
| From New Years 200... |
 |
| From New Years 200... |
 |
| From New Years 200... |
and my favorite...
 |
| From New Years 200... |
The next day or so progressed about the same way, kind of lazy, good food, good wine, it was nice. When we left to head back to work, we took one bus to another bus to the border and it took only about 7 or 8 hours to get there. When we got off the bus and got to the car, Chris sort of walked ahead of us to make sure it was there. I see him throw down his bag and curse loudly. I walk around to see what the problem is - there's a boot on his car. I was afraid we'd just have to drive back with it, a la when Homer Simpson got booted in NYC...thump...thump...But Chris, as determined as I've ever seen him, walks over to the tire, kind of shimmies the boot, and it pops right off. Fine Turkish construction if I've ever seen it...If there's anything I regret, it's not taking that boot with us. But I did take a photo for posterity:
 |
| From New Years 200... |
Oh yes, and one other thing. I'm not sure if it was mentioned in Chris' summer details about Bulgaria, but apparently Bulgarian women are the most beautiful women on the planet. This is the first thing his friends told me about when I asked about their roadtrip this summer. And I'm not kidding. Anyway, the Bulgarians must take some pride in this. It's been awhile since I've been home, but I seem to remember that the "women" signs for bathrooms in the US are nowhere near as "developed"
 |
| From New Years 200... |
Compare:
http://static.flickr.com/4/7328348_b35abc8afa_m.jpg
Sunday, January 07, 2007
International Lampoon's Bulgarian Vacation
Note: Everything I write here is completely true. There is no exaggeration. This is travelling at its extreme. Not for the faint of heart...
Friday 12/29/06 1:15 pm: Chris, our friends Nam and DuWane and I plan to leave the apartment in Chris' car for Bansko, Bulgaria for a long weekend/New Years/welcome Bulgaria to the EU trip
2pm: We leave
2:25 pm: We're on the bridge between Asia and Europe in Istanbul and Chris turns to me and says "I'm having a minor paperwork freak out. I think I need temporary international insurance*" *in addition to regular Turkish insurance. Why, i have no idea. We get off the highway several kilometers from his car paperwork company and sit in traffic for a little while. Finally, we get close and can see the building from the road. Chris says "I am going to go the back way to avoid traffic*" *There is generally tons of traffic in this area and we have had a disastrous experience in the past, so this made sense. About 20 meters onto the "back way" (another small highway) we see construction and realize there is actually no exit to take us where we want to go. We end up turning onto yet another highway and as we do, I see multiple cars backing up off the road. I took this to be a bad sign, but this does tend to happen here quite a bit, so we kept going. Unfortunately this little detour forced us to sit in stopped traffic for about 2 hours.
4:40 pm: We arrive back to the place where we changed to go to the "back way". We decide to do a chinese fire drill so DuWane can drive the car while chris runs to the company, which likely closes at 5.
5:10: In about 20 minutes and over 100$ later, Chris emerges from the building with the "international insurance"
7:30: No more unplanned stops, we're about a mile from the border where get a quick cafeteria-style dinner and visit one of the many horrifying, terrifying bathrooms that plagued us for the trip.
8:15 pm: We're through the first part of the border. Now all we need to do is have Chris stand in line with his car paperwork, including the fancy new insurance for awhile, get a stamp and go through. Keep in mind it is at least freezing, if not below while all of this happens. All of the cars at the border are "lined up" (in a haphazared, rules-free style parking lot) while Chris waits and DuWane and I buy booze at duty-free and start drinking it to stay warm.
8:45 pm: Chris comes back to the car. "There's something wrong with my paperwork. I need to go over there and talk to someone." (points back toward our original border check.) DuWayne and I sip a little more warming liquer.
9:30 pm: Chris walkes back to the car, gets into the back seat, and at this unusual placement, before he even spoke the words "We're f*$ked" I knew something was wrong. Apparently there was a misprint. Not on the new insurance, which I'm not sure they even looked at, but on his original car registration, which I'm sure his paperwork company looked at multiple times without noticing. The end result is, after 7 1/2 hours that we'd never get back, we can't take the car across the border. Chris says the border guards say we could try to hop on a bus going our direction and, nice Turks that they are, tell him of a hotel nearby where he can leave the car. We aren't sure this is going to work but for the sake of the apartment that we've already paid for a week's lodging (even though we have to be back at work in 5 days) we decide to give it a shot.
9:45 pm: Chris leaves us with all our luggage on the side of the border, near the 3 tiny duty free shops and goes to park his car. We are standing with our luggage, freezing (eventually I couldn't feel my fingers and toes) and sneaking into the same 3 duty free shops over and over again with tour bus groups, pretending to be interested in the carts of cigarettes with huge warning labels stating "smokers die younger" and "smoking reduces sperm count" for a few seconds of heat.
11 pm: This is the first time the phrase "Where's Chris" was used on the trip. As far as we knew, he just went to park the car close by so I was starting to get nervous. I called his cell phone, he answered, in a hushed tone and enlightened me to the fact that he was in the office of the head border guard who was attempting to extort first $4,000 from him which was reduced, due to the efforts of the "good cop" in the room to a mere $1,000. After multiple attempts at telling them that he is just a poor "ogretmen" (silent 'g' and it means teacher) they eventually believe him and send him on his way. Meanwhile, I made several lame attempts at finding us a host bus. I was quite proud of my Turkish, which while didn't amount to a ride for us, showed me that I knew how to say "Plovdiv (town we needed to get to in Bulgaria)? Ummm...4 people. OK, UM. Hmmm. Big car problem. I, and 4 friends. We go Plovdiv. But car problem. We go, but no car." then I pointed at him and the bus. And he actually knew what I was saying. But it doesn't help us at all. Finally, Chris gets back, and feeling guilty (though it was not his fault his paperwork had problems) he is determined to get us on a bus.
11:30 pm - 12:30 am: Chris finds us a bus. It is a bunch of Turks going into a part of Bulgaria I didn't know and their tour guide was more than happy to take a bunch of sad "Yabanci"(s) (prounounced Yabahnja's, means foreigners) on as a charity case. Apparently going through a border on a bus is even more of an undertaking than in a car. And don't get me wrong here, I was greatful to these people for bringing us across the border. At an American border, crossing into Canada let's say, if a group of foreign people who don't speak your language (very broken requests for bus access aside) asked for your help in crossing the border, people would likely think you were a terrorist, or a drug mule (oh yes, that's in the story too...we'll get to it later. But I digress...Each person has to get off the bus (please keep in mind the weather I mentioned before. Oh yes, and I wore my thin socks so as to keep my wool ones clean for skiing) and stand at the guard gate so he could flip through each passport. We all have to stand there until the whole bus (these are big Coach-type buses) has had their passports checked. Then we get back on the bus and drive about 3 meters and wait for the customs agent to come by. At this point, we all get back off the bus (ahem, freezing) and stand with all of our bags for the customs agent to check us. At this point (and this isn't the drug mule-ing I'm refering to, I'll come back to that later) I am a little nervous, because the kind lady who let us on the bus handed me a duty free back filled with cigarette cartons and explained to me (I think) that the cigarettes in the bag would be what 3 or 4 people could take across the border, so if I could just hold them and say that they are mine and my friends', well, that would be great. I'm happy to help, but it's been about 10 hours so far, I'm tired and confused and as we get off the bus, I forget the butts. I needn't have worried about that at the moment, because the more pressing concern was the woman attempting the comic Tom and Jerry or Wil E Coyote style tiptoe behind the customs agent, which he OF COURSE saw and which pissed him off to no end. At this point he lined us all up again, started to look through each person's bag again and started pulling people out of line. In the middle of this he gave some sort of speech, of which I understood "Prime Minister" and "cigarettes." The tour lady gave some sort of speech as well, of which I understood "I don't want" and again, the topic of the night "cigarettes." After this, customs man gets back on the bus (this is where I really start feeling freaked out about "my" cigarettes, but I think tour lady might have pulled the stupid foreigner ha-ha card for customs man so I was off the hook) and looked around for awhile. After this we all get back on the bus. Yay! I think, We're free to go! But of course that wouldn't happen! What was explained to me later was this this was likely a group of lower class Turks and the border guards felt like they could bully them (especially as they are now big-shot EU members) so they were taking advantage.
12:30 am - ..... 3:30 am: We sit on the bus. Some people get called off the bus. They come back on the bus. Many, many other buses pass our bus. We pull forward about 10 feet. We sit some more. The aforementioned drug mules come onto the bus. Exchange what was possibly money with the bus driver. They play rintones loudly on their cellphones and chat, also loudly with the driver. People start smoking. On the bus. One man, who had successfully hidden the contraband cigarettes from customs agent, started stuffing many, many packs of them into every part of himself he could find. As Chris and I had seats in the front of the bus, and he was in the entranceway, we got to see it all. And through all of this, the amazing thing is that no one was freaking out. Could you imagine being stuck on the border for hours and hours and not getting upset. They started having SING-ALONGS! and DANCING! on the bus! It was amazing. I had to go into a kind of mental hibernation so as not to freak out myself. Luckily our group of 4 was amazingly calm as well. We were about 1/2 of a kilometer from our car and had been for the past 7 hours. You could really freak out.
FINALLY....The last 'prisoner' was brought back onto the bus and we started lumbering away. After a 1+ hour trip, on which the other passengers began to think of us as mascots or pets, telling us to sit down and relax whenever the bus would stop and we thought it was where we got off (for yes...part 2 of our adventure), we finally arrived in Hravsko (or something like that. All the signs are in cyrillic. It's not helpful.)
5 am: We negotiate with a taxi drive to take us, essentially across the country,
for 100 euros (I know this map is tiny, but Hraskovo or whatever is close to where Turkey, Greece and Bulgaria meet and Bansko, is almost at the Macedonian border). We are finally sitting. And thrilled about the prospect of some actual sleep. We pile into the tiny taxi, with our bags, Chris' skis and the 4 of us, lean our heads on the seat-backs and ....sit up with a start when our taxi driver decides that now is the right time to play Tupac's greatest hits. for 3 1/2 hours. OK, fairs fair, he played Tupac for about hours, and then, as the sun was coming up, as we headed into the mountains, he switched to Enigma. It was the perfect end to our travels.
8:45am: Nearly 18 hours after we began, and thanks to Chris' amazing visual memory based on his last visit to Bulgaria, we arrive at our barely marked Aparthotel, the Montblanc apartments. We walk in, a bit punch-drunk, give them our reservation name and await real sleep, finally. However, as we've now actually come to expect, there's a glitch. Our reservation is nowhere to be found. Of course. After attempting the art of patience (quite difficult after our "evening") we decided to go next door and get breakfast, assured the problem will be solved when we return. We had a great breakfast of omlettes and (a special treat when you live in a Muslim country) ham, we found out that the restaurant had rooms available, so we keep that in the back of our minds and head back to the Mont Blanc. We get back and they had done nothing on our reservation, had nothing to do to help us. All we wanted was our money back, but for some reason that was not in their vocabulary. After another hour or so, it is now....
10:30 am: I am laying in the sauna of Mont Blanc to clear up some of my bone-chill and eventually the guys come in to tell me some good news, they are planning to upgrade us to "the best hotel in Bansko" with pool! sauna! steamroom! much nicer than where we are now. Success! Something worked out! Haha ... A driver comes to pick us up and take us to our palace. He's about, ohhhh 85 and has no. idea. where to go. This is a small ski town, granted a new building is going up daily, and shouldn't be that hard. I mean, it shouldn't take 1 HOUR of driving in circles to find our place.
11:45 am: We finally arrive at our destination and find, not the luxurious residence we were described, but a place fully under construction, with zero amenities. No pool. No steam room. No sauna. No internet even, which was ubiquitous in the advertising of the apartments in the town. And the receptionist had never heard of us, or our plight. We were certain the driver had taken us to the wrong place. After I (I fully admit this, felt horrible and apologized to her many times before) yelled at this poor woman, who eventually was kind enough to even offer me her very own bottle of water because I had requested some, she called the hi - i'm working on a blog post now . manager and we found out we WERE in the right place and had been scammed. But ... we could use the amenities of the hotel down the road. For 15 euros. Per person. Per day. I was of the opinion that we shouldn't have even had to pay for our room, let alone anything extra, but luckily Chris got on the phone with the people we originally rented from, and hearing him madder than I ever have, he got us free passes to the spa for the whole time we were there...Finally, a little over an hour later, our room was ready and at
1:30 pm: We finally sat down and had a nap.
More to come but writing this has made me relive it and I'm now exhausted and must sleep!
Note: Everything I write here is completely true. There is no exaggeration. This is travelling at its extreme. Not for the faint of heart...
Friday 12/29/06 1:15 pm: Chris, our friends Nam and DuWane and I plan to leave the apartment in Chris' car for Bansko, Bulgaria for a long weekend/New Years/welcome Bulgaria to the EU trip
2pm: We leave
2:25 pm: We're on the bridge between Asia and Europe in Istanbul and Chris turns to me and says "I'm having a minor paperwork freak out. I think I need temporary international insurance*" *in addition to regular Turkish insurance. Why, i have no idea. We get off the highway several kilometers from his car paperwork company and sit in traffic for a little while. Finally, we get close and can see the building from the road. Chris says "I am going to go the back way to avoid traffic*" *There is generally tons of traffic in this area and we have had a disastrous experience in the past, so this made sense. About 20 meters onto the "back way" (another small highway) we see construction and realize there is actually no exit to take us where we want to go. We end up turning onto yet another highway and as we do, I see multiple cars backing up off the road. I took this to be a bad sign, but this does tend to happen here quite a bit, so we kept going. Unfortunately this little detour forced us to sit in stopped traffic for about 2 hours.
4:40 pm: We arrive back to the place where we changed to go to the "back way". We decide to do a chinese fire drill so DuWane can drive the car while chris runs to the company, which likely closes at 5.
5:10: In about 20 minutes and over 100$ later, Chris emerges from the building with the "international insurance"
7:30: No more unplanned stops, we're about a mile from the border where get a quick cafeteria-style dinner and visit one of the many horrifying, terrifying bathrooms that plagued us for the trip.
8:15 pm: We're through the first part of the border. Now all we need to do is have Chris stand in line with his car paperwork, including the fancy new insurance for awhile, get a stamp and go through. Keep in mind it is at least freezing, if not below while all of this happens. All of the cars at the border are "lined up" (in a haphazared, rules-free style parking lot) while Chris waits and DuWane and I buy booze at duty-free and start drinking it to stay warm.
8:45 pm: Chris comes back to the car. "There's something wrong with my paperwork. I need to go over there and talk to someone." (points back toward our original border check.) DuWayne and I sip a little more warming liquer.
9:30 pm: Chris walkes back to the car, gets into the back seat, and at this unusual placement, before he even spoke the words "We're f*$ked" I knew something was wrong. Apparently there was a misprint. Not on the new insurance, which I'm not sure they even looked at, but on his original car registration, which I'm sure his paperwork company looked at multiple times without noticing. The end result is, after 7 1/2 hours that we'd never get back, we can't take the car across the border. Chris says the border guards say we could try to hop on a bus going our direction and, nice Turks that they are, tell him of a hotel nearby where he can leave the car. We aren't sure this is going to work but for the sake of the apartment that we've already paid for a week's lodging (even though we have to be back at work in 5 days) we decide to give it a shot.
9:45 pm: Chris leaves us with all our luggage on the side of the border, near the 3 tiny duty free shops and goes to park his car. We are standing with our luggage, freezing (eventually I couldn't feel my fingers and toes) and sneaking into the same 3 duty free shops over and over again with tour bus groups, pretending to be interested in the carts of cigarettes with huge warning labels stating "smokers die younger" and "smoking reduces sperm count" for a few seconds of heat.
11 pm: This is the first time the phrase "Where's Chris" was used on the trip. As far as we knew, he just went to park the car close by so I was starting to get nervous. I called his cell phone, he answered, in a hushed tone and enlightened me to the fact that he was in the office of the head border guard who was attempting to extort first $4,000 from him which was reduced, due to the efforts of the "good cop" in the room to a mere $1,000. After multiple attempts at telling them that he is just a poor "ogretmen" (silent 'g' and it means teacher) they eventually believe him and send him on his way. Meanwhile, I made several lame attempts at finding us a host bus. I was quite proud of my Turkish, which while didn't amount to a ride for us, showed me that I knew how to say "Plovdiv (town we needed to get to in Bulgaria)? Ummm...4 people. OK, UM. Hmmm. Big car problem. I, and 4 friends. We go Plovdiv. But car problem. We go, but no car." then I pointed at him and the bus. And he actually knew what I was saying. But it doesn't help us at all. Finally, Chris gets back, and feeling guilty (though it was not his fault his paperwork had problems) he is determined to get us on a bus.
11:30 pm - 12:30 am: Chris finds us a bus. It is a bunch of Turks going into a part of Bulgaria I didn't know and their tour guide was more than happy to take a bunch of sad "Yabanci"(s) (prounounced Yabahnja's, means foreigners) on as a charity case. Apparently going through a border on a bus is even more of an undertaking than in a car. And don't get me wrong here, I was greatful to these people for bringing us across the border. At an American border, crossing into Canada let's say, if a group of foreign people who don't speak your language (very broken requests for bus access aside) asked for your help in crossing the border, people would likely think you were a terrorist, or a drug mule (oh yes, that's in the story too...we'll get to it later. But I digress...Each person has to get off the bus (please keep in mind the weather I mentioned before. Oh yes, and I wore my thin socks so as to keep my wool ones clean for skiing) and stand at the guard gate so he could flip through each passport. We all have to stand there until the whole bus (these are big Coach-type buses) has had their passports checked. Then we get back on the bus and drive about 3 meters and wait for the customs agent to come by. At this point, we all get back off the bus (ahem, freezing) and stand with all of our bags for the customs agent to check us. At this point (and this isn't the drug mule-ing I'm refering to, I'll come back to that later) I am a little nervous, because the kind lady who let us on the bus handed me a duty free back filled with cigarette cartons and explained to me (I think) that the cigarettes in the bag would be what 3 or 4 people could take across the border, so if I could just hold them and say that they are mine and my friends', well, that would be great. I'm happy to help, but it's been about 10 hours so far, I'm tired and confused and as we get off the bus, I forget the butts. I needn't have worried about that at the moment, because the more pressing concern was the woman attempting the comic Tom and Jerry or Wil E Coyote style tiptoe behind the customs agent, which he OF COURSE saw and which pissed him off to no end. At this point he lined us all up again, started to look through each person's bag again and started pulling people out of line. In the middle of this he gave some sort of speech, of which I understood "Prime Minister" and "cigarettes." The tour lady gave some sort of speech as well, of which I understood "I don't want" and again, the topic of the night "cigarettes." After this, customs man gets back on the bus (this is where I really start feeling freaked out about "my" cigarettes, but I think tour lady might have pulled the stupid foreigner ha-ha card for customs man so I was off the hook) and looked around for awhile. After this we all get back on the bus. Yay! I think, We're free to go! But of course that wouldn't happen! What was explained to me later was this this was likely a group of lower class Turks and the border guards felt like they could bully them (especially as they are now big-shot EU members) so they were taking advantage.
12:30 am - ..... 3:30 am: We sit on the bus. Some people get called off the bus. They come back on the bus. Many, many other buses pass our bus. We pull forward about 10 feet. We sit some more. The aforementioned drug mules come onto the bus. Exchange what was possibly money with the bus driver. They play rintones loudly on their cellphones and chat, also loudly with the driver. People start smoking. On the bus. One man, who had successfully hidden the contraband cigarettes from customs agent, started stuffing many, many packs of them into every part of himself he could find. As Chris and I had seats in the front of the bus, and he was in the entranceway, we got to see it all. And through all of this, the amazing thing is that no one was freaking out. Could you imagine being stuck on the border for hours and hours and not getting upset. They started having SING-ALONGS! and DANCING! on the bus! It was amazing. I had to go into a kind of mental hibernation so as not to freak out myself. Luckily our group of 4 was amazingly calm as well. We were about 1/2 of a kilometer from our car and had been for the past 7 hours. You could really freak out.
FINALLY....The last 'prisoner' was brought back onto the bus and we started lumbering away. After a 1+ hour trip, on which the other passengers began to think of us as mascots or pets, telling us to sit down and relax whenever the bus would stop and we thought it was where we got off (for yes...part 2 of our adventure), we finally arrived in Hravsko (or something like that. All the signs are in cyrillic. It's not helpful.)
5 am: We negotiate with a taxi drive to take us, essentially across the country,
for 100 euros (I know this map is tiny, but Hraskovo or whatever is close to where Turkey, Greece and Bulgaria meet and Bansko, is almost at the Macedonian border). We are finally sitting. And thrilled about the prospect of some actual sleep. We pile into the tiny taxi, with our bags, Chris' skis and the 4 of us, lean our heads on the seat-backs and ....sit up with a start when our taxi driver decides that now is the right time to play Tupac's greatest hits. for 3 1/2 hours. OK, fairs fair, he played Tupac for about hours, and then, as the sun was coming up, as we headed into the mountains, he switched to Enigma. It was the perfect end to our travels.8:45am: Nearly 18 hours after we began, and thanks to Chris' amazing visual memory based on his last visit to Bulgaria, we arrive at our barely marked Aparthotel, the Montblanc apartments. We walk in, a bit punch-drunk, give them our reservation name and await real sleep, finally. However, as we've now actually come to expect, there's a glitch. Our reservation is nowhere to be found. Of course. After attempting the art of patience (quite difficult after our "evening") we decided to go next door and get breakfast, assured the problem will be solved when we return. We had a great breakfast of omlettes and (a special treat when you live in a Muslim country) ham, we found out that the restaurant had rooms available, so we keep that in the back of our minds and head back to the Mont Blanc. We get back and they had done nothing on our reservation, had nothing to do to help us. All we wanted was our money back, but for some reason that was not in their vocabulary. After another hour or so, it is now....
10:30 am: I am laying in the sauna of Mont Blanc to clear up some of my bone-chill and eventually the guys come in to tell me some good news, they are planning to upgrade us to "the best hotel in Bansko" with pool! sauna! steamroom! much nicer than where we are now. Success! Something worked out! Haha ... A driver comes to pick us up and take us to our palace. He's about, ohhhh 85 and has no. idea. where to go. This is a small ski town, granted a new building is going up daily, and shouldn't be that hard. I mean, it shouldn't take 1 HOUR of driving in circles to find our place.
11:45 am: We finally arrive at our destination and find, not the luxurious residence we were described, but a place fully under construction, with zero amenities. No pool. No steam room. No sauna. No internet even, which was ubiquitous in the advertising of the apartments in the town. And the receptionist had never heard of us, or our plight. We were certain the driver had taken us to the wrong place. After I (I fully admit this, felt horrible and apologized to her many times before) yelled at this poor woman, who eventually was kind enough to even offer me her very own bottle of water because I had requested some, she called the hi - i'm working on a blog post now . manager and we found out we WERE in the right place and had been scammed. But ... we could use the amenities of the hotel down the road. For 15 euros. Per person. Per day. I was of the opinion that we shouldn't have even had to pay for our room, let alone anything extra, but luckily Chris got on the phone with the people we originally rented from, and hearing him madder than I ever have, he got us free passes to the spa for the whole time we were there...Finally, a little over an hour later, our room was ready and at
1:30 pm: We finally sat down and had a nap.
More to come but writing this has made me relive it and I'm now exhausted and must sleep!
Monday, December 25, 2006
A Very Mullet Christmas!
It was a very mullet Christmas in our household this year. Or was it? Is my new haircut the much feared and awed "Tur-mullet"? It's up to you to decide!
Modern take on an 80's haircut or not, we had a great Christmas! Chris' school helped fund a wonderful Christmas dinner for the foreign teachers (about 30 of us), which included two Turkey's, much (Turkish, but you forget after awhile) wine, and many potluck dishes. I'm biased, on both counts, but I thought that Chris' cauliflower with curried cheese sauce was the best dish at the party! Not quite as inspired were the rock-hard Snowman Peeps that someone tried to pawn off on us unsuspecting Peeps fans!
After dinner, we had a White Elephant (old crap) gift exchange in which I won a bracelet, which I think was the nicest gift, although I'm sure the person who won my 'barely used' Garnier Fructis conditioner would disagree.
I'll put up more pictures from the evening soon...We just opened our gifts (you can see them under our Plant, below) - I printed and framed a bunch of pictures from our travels for Chris, and I got (best gift ever!) a package of Aromatherapy Massages from a spa nearby from Chris, who knows me too well!
Today, I'm going to make the traditional Christmas hummus to share with our friends, while we watch Elf, A Christmas Story and two more episodes (5 and 6) from this season of Lost!
Have a wonderful Christmas!
Here is a picture of our stockings. Chris' (the red silk one) and mine, the Grey Thor-Lo.
 |
| From Christmas 2006 |
| From Christmas 2006 |
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Technology strikes again...
I like to think I'm pretty tech-savvy, but recently anything I try to do on the computer fails miserably. Mercury must be in retrograde. Anyway, I took a video of what we've decided to call our Nondenominational Winter Plant and I'm putting it here...BUT it's sideways. And I can't get it to turn right side up without becoming terribly distorted. If anyone knows how to fix it, let me know, otherwise, it's only about 30 seconds, so turn your head sideways. I think I am going to need to move from PC to Mac sometime soon to be able to do any real movie stuff...
Watch this space for pics of our N.W.P. with our N.W.Candles, our improvised menorah using a combination of tealights and large scented candles...
I like to think I'm pretty tech-savvy, but recently anything I try to do on the computer fails miserably. Mercury must be in retrograde. Anyway, I took a video of what we've decided to call our Nondenominational Winter Plant and I'm putting it here...BUT it's sideways. And I can't get it to turn right side up without becoming terribly distorted. If anyone knows how to fix it, let me know, otherwise, it's only about 30 seconds, so turn your head sideways. I think I am going to need to move from PC to Mac sometime soon to be able to do any real movie stuff...
Watch this space for pics of our N.W.P. with our N.W.Candles, our improvised menorah using a combination of tealights and large scented candles...
Monday, December 18, 2006
One of the more frustrating things that has happened to me recently was that I spent a good portion of my Sunday afternoon uploading photographs and writing 4 or 5 new posts. I told Chris that I updated some things and when he went to look at it, poof! Nothing was there. Some problem with the software blah blah blah. It made me very sad and I'm not sure when I'll feel ok enough about it to try writing all that stuff again.
But...Since I'm here, I might as well write about our GREAT weekend! Friday night, I was invited to an expat ladies night, where I met some new foreign women and I discovered a new and drinkable Turkish wine, Kav....I had just enough, but not too much so that I was able to go to work the next day and do "fun projects" with my kids...
Saturday night was a mystery to me. One of Chris' coworkers was hosting a party/amateur photography exhibition which we were able to attend for a little while (and have some of her amazing home-made Sangria) before we left to go on a date about which Chris was being very secretive. We went over to Beyoglu, a fun nightlife area in Istanbul, where Chris took me to a fabulous Thai restaurant that has been described as the best in Istanbul, and we were not disappointed! After dinner, and after leading me through the winding streets of Beyoglu to "throw me off track", we ended up at Babylon, a club that tends to be the go-to venue for most of the foreign bands that come through here, to see Buckwheat Zydeco, a band I had heard of but never had the pleasure to hear personally. They were amazing and if you ever have the opportunity to see them live, do it. Here's a video, not of the show we saw, but another one at a Blues Festival elsewhere in Turkey. The guy with the accordian is Buckwheat himself, a mature gentleman who was really energetic and quite funny too. The two best parts of our show were 1) when a guy in the audience wearing and playing his own washboard chest thing that is the "Zydeco instrument" was pulled up onstage and played a song with the band and 2) when a group of about 7 expat-looking older guys walked in in full Blues Brothers style - dark suits and sunglasses, some of them with bow ties and some with long scarves. We had a great vantage point to see all of this from up on the balcony.
Apologies if this post isn't at all entertaining, I think I used up all my funny on the posts that never made it ... Sorry!
But...Since I'm here, I might as well write about our GREAT weekend! Friday night, I was invited to an expat ladies night, where I met some new foreign women and I discovered a new and drinkable Turkish wine, Kav....I had just enough, but not too much so that I was able to go to work the next day and do "fun projects" with my kids...
Saturday night was a mystery to me. One of Chris' coworkers was hosting a party/amateur photography exhibition which we were able to attend for a little while (and have some of her amazing home-made Sangria) before we left to go on a date about which Chris was being very secretive. We went over to Beyoglu, a fun nightlife area in Istanbul, where Chris took me to a fabulous Thai restaurant that has been described as the best in Istanbul, and we were not disappointed! After dinner, and after leading me through the winding streets of Beyoglu to "throw me off track", we ended up at Babylon, a club that tends to be the go-to venue for most of the foreign bands that come through here, to see Buckwheat Zydeco, a band I had heard of but never had the pleasure to hear personally. They were amazing and if you ever have the opportunity to see them live, do it. Here's a video, not of the show we saw, but another one at a Blues Festival elsewhere in Turkey. The guy with the accordian is Buckwheat himself, a mature gentleman who was really energetic and quite funny too. The two best parts of our show were 1) when a guy in the audience wearing and playing his own washboard chest thing that is the "Zydeco instrument" was pulled up onstage and played a song with the band and 2) when a group of about 7 expat-looking older guys walked in in full Blues Brothers style - dark suits and sunglasses, some of them with bow ties and some with long scarves. We had a great vantage point to see all of this from up on the balcony.
Apologies if this post isn't at all entertaining, I think I used up all my funny on the posts that never made it ... Sorry!
Sunday, December 03, 2006
Sunday, November 26, 2006
As most of you who actually read this have probably figured out, I (Jenna) actually write most of the stuff on here. But, Chris recently sent out a long, informative and funny email to some family and friends, so I thought I'd post it here (with some additional comments by me where I couldn't resist) so you could read about our life - and mainly our travels this summer - from his perspective....Oh, and most of the pictures in here (or at least the best ... meaning guts and speedos ... ones) were taken by our friend Matt. We can't take credit for those genius shots!
After returning to Istanbul we had a day to recover before Scott, a college friend, arrived. After showing him the city, he and I took off for a road trip out to Cappadocia while Jenna headed to Bar-tha-lona to visit a friend. I couldn't believe she turned down driving around, hot and sunny, southern Turkey in a small, Turkish built, French car with no A/C and two stinky dudes whilst camping. It was really great to get back out on the road with Scott. Check out Scott's blog here: http://roadtripturkey.blogspot.com/
Merhaba, Zdravei, Salut, Sziasztok, Zivjo, Ahoj, Guten tag, Bok and finally Hello,
After a summer of travel and mangling the above versions of hello, I hope this missive finds you all well and enjoying life. All is good on this end, particularly so now that I (we) am finally out of the dreaded long distance relationship, as Jenna decided to move over in June. After a nearly three month holiday spent recovering from the ravages of money management and its ubiquitous 2 week vacation she has moved into the education field working with the little guys (3-8) at a progressive after-school program. Anyhow we are enjoying the process of learning how to live together and thus far successfully navigating the delicate "lifestyle" issues that inevitably arise ie. dishes, underwear and the dreaded socks. (ie. Jenna is messy) (False. False false false. Anyone who knows me knows that!) In commemoration of the move and the fact that at the end of the year I didn't want to look at another child again, I took the whole summer off for the first time and traveled. Jenna and I began our cohabitation with consecutive visits from our respective families. While probably not the easiest segue, we had a fantastic time showing them how wonderful Turkey is when you get away from the rich people's children. We headed out with a large group of friends to Cappadocia, which has to be one of the most amazing landscapes in all the world. Here is a great article on it. After that we headed down to the coast for what is called a blue cruise which roughly translates into lots of beautiful scenery, swimming and lounging on a traditional Turkish boat. Here is a recent NYT article about it: After that we met Jenna's parents in Bodrum, which is something akin to a cross between South Beach and a quaint Turkish village.
After returning to Istanbul we had a day to recover before Scott, a college friend, arrived. After showing him the city, he and I took off for a road trip out to Cappadocia while Jenna headed to Bar-tha-lona to visit a friend. I couldn't believe she turned down driving around, hot and sunny, southern Turkey in a small, Turkish built, French car with no A/C and two stinky dudes whilst camping. It was really great to get back out on the road with Scott. Check out Scott's blog here: http://roadtripturkey.blogspot.com/
The Road Trip Begins....Of Clown Cars and Border Crossings
Close on the heels of Scott leaving, the next crew, Matt, Scott #2 (Dubbed "The short Scott" for expediency) and Will, arrived for the big question mark of the summer. The plan was to drive my previously mentioned small car (see photos, note the wheel well when fully occupied) 
full of 4 guys and there respective baggage from Istanbul to Prague and back again. Mind you that I'm by far the smallest at 6'1" 160, needless to say it was a tight fit, so much so that we felt kindred spirits to the poor fellows who make their living piling into small cars with face paint. After a few days of traipsing around Istanbul we hit the road bound for Bulgaria. Thankfully sans face paint as it would have melted off from our sweat, obscuring a beautiful drive through the sun and sunflower soaked countryside. Quick math side note; 4 guys = 750 lbs, 4 guys gear = 160 lbs, snacks = 2.854 lbs = Total = 912.854 lbs ¸ 1.2 liter manual transmission equals what an elementary physicist would regard as a mathematical impossibility. A 1.2 liter engine generates roughly 73 horsepower giving each of us 18.25 horsepower to get our asses to Prague and back. Chaos theory would indicate that something was bound to go wrong. Chaos theory was wrong, or at least for awhile.
full of 4 guys and there respective baggage from Istanbul to Prague and back again. Mind you that I'm by far the smallest at 6'1" 160, needless to say it was a tight fit, so much so that we felt kindred spirits to the poor fellows who make their living piling into small cars with face paint. After a few days of traipsing around Istanbul we hit the road bound for Bulgaria. Thankfully sans face paint as it would have melted off from our sweat, obscuring a beautiful drive through the sun and sunflower soaked countryside. Quick math side note; 4 guys = 750 lbs, 4 guys gear = 160 lbs, snacks = 2.854 lbs = Total = 912.854 lbs ¸ 1.2 liter manual transmission equals what an elementary physicist would regard as a mathematical impossibility. A 1.2 liter engine generates roughly 73 horsepower giving each of us 18.25 horsepower to get our asses to Prague and back. Chaos theory would indicate that something was bound to go wrong. Chaos theory was wrong, or at least for awhile. Upon arriving at the Turkish border our car was forced into a concrete lined queue, as the Turkish people as a whole don't understand the concept of queuing, that forcing was a good thing. However, throughout this 2 hour process of advancing in the queue, we watched repeated attempts by doggedly stupid peoples to bypass our place in line. These others, upon arriving at the border and finding an empty line between two very long lines would go right to the front and begin honking their horn. They apparently believed that they had been granted this good fortune due to the grace of god as opposed to the line being closed. Upon this stark realization, resultant to being yelled at by the various authorities, each of them would then begin the lengthy process of asking why this line was closed. This in turn would slow down our line, further angering the many others who had gone through this same exact process many hours before. All in all quite funny when you have moved beyond getting frustrated with the utter lack of efficiency. Once to the gate we exchanged a few pleasantries and were allowed to pass. Evidently from here we were to park the car and get into another queue, although this time a human one, meaning there were no concrete barriers to keep people in place. This is where the real fun started. Upon entering the queue we became witnesses to a scene of Byzantine comedy. Evidently this wealthy German family in (actually, out of and yelling) their perfect Mercedes wagon, had discovered upon returning from their trip to Turkey, that their passports didn't have the proper stamps. They had evidently passed through this border 2 weeks prior thinking all was good. Upon arrival at the border the guards told them that they didn't have the proper paper work and were thus "working on it". . . all day. They were not finding their predicament in the least bit funny. It's strange what happens to people when all you want to do is get through a border. My regard for fellow man disintegrated into a wish that this guy would stop yelling and I could get through this god forsaken no mans land. I and my fellow line mates should have risen up and made the guards acknowledge the arcane stupidity of the Turkish government and their place in it and demand that they let this family through instantly but we quietly bowed our heads and physically pushed the guy next to us who was trying to take our spot as we thought about the right thing to do. Shockingly we got through this line in about an hour leaving the poor family to their bribe negotiations and were sent on our merry way, or at least until the next booth. Here we were met by a man who demanded our passports again. Upon typing my passport number into the computer he began saying something to me in Turkish. When his words were met with a black stare and acknowledgment that I speak very little Turkish he became highly agitated. From here he began hitting the top of my car yelling, KOMputer problem. KOMputer problem. When this didn't phase us and the blank stares remained, he left the booth and continued gesturing and striking the car for us to go back while yelling KOMputer problem. A quick u-turn and telling of the guy at the computer that there was a "KOMputer problem" and we were back to our final hurdle. This time however the guy quickly put the passport number in and we were on our way with a high five that much resembled Borat's failed attempts at connecting to western culture. Our border crossings would be relatively easy and peaceful from here, aside from the 1 1/2 hour work-over the car received going into Romania and some troubles in Croatia. Now, you can tell me by looking at the photos, 
but I don't think we, in the least, resemble drug runners but the earnest Romanian authorities gave our car, henceforth referred to as The Spring (early 90's Renault make), a full body cavity search, while letting all other cars pass with nothing more than a nod. After getting under, looking through the engine compartment and trunk, removing seats that weren't removable and making us unpack every bit of our belongings, they gave an understated OK and we were into Romania.
but I don't think we, in the least, resemble drug runners but the earnest Romanian authorities gave our car, henceforth referred to as The Spring (early 90's Renault make), a full body cavity search, while letting all other cars pass with nothing more than a nod. After getting under, looking through the engine compartment and trunk, removing seats that weren't removable and making us unpack every bit of our belongings, they gave an understated OK and we were into Romania. Romania. Just like Connecticut. But with Speedos and Beauty Queens
Romania was and is strange, and made all the stranger when a few kilometers into the country we spotted a Connecticut license plate ahead of us. Not wanting to miss this opportunity to figure out why there was a car with a Connecticut license plate on the border of Bulgaria and Romania I put the pedal to the floor and made those 73 horsepower earn their keep. Upon waving down the driver of the late 70's MG, top down, full of little kids, we met Vern. 
(check out Chris and Scott's faces in this picture, politely pretending not to notice that one of the men they were chatting with- not Vern, incidentally, he is on the far right - was wearing a speedo and boots) Vern, evidently, was born and raised in Wethersfield but due to "economic and political" circumstances had decided to move to the Black Sea coast of Romania. Whence there he had his car shipped, 10 years prior mind you, and failed to register the car with the Romanian government. Vern began by telling us a bit about his life in Romania, "ahh man this place is paradise, especially that little hippy town you just passed a mile back. The place is heaven, I found it about 8 years ago and I've been spending my summers down here, just everybody hanging out and having fun . . . so many ladies." During this time there were two young boys who were bouncing around the car and when the attention shifted to them Vern introduced us to "these guys, they're my kids and I'm heading home to put them to bed before heading out, well I should show you around, you know take you out, I don't see many folks from CT but I have a date, actually a double date, you know two ladies". Upon the double date clarification, with its requisite wink, the distinct impression began to overtake me that we were looking at a modern day 70's style swinger. Equipped with the requisite hairy gut and back, he fit the bill, only his swinging lifestyle had obviously hit a few bumps, actually two, sitting in the back of his car ready to be put to sleep. A quick examination of Dictionary.com yields a number of definitions for the word "Swinger" but the one that I find most humorous and apropos of Vern and his historical place in Romania is; A person who actively seeks excitement and moves with the latest trends. Romania is most definitely experiencing its fair share of excitement and massive influx of access to the latest of trends. It was fascinating to witness how those changes are evincing themselves. On one hand you have a country of gypsies who live in dirt poor villages straight out of the middle ages (in fact, the Borat village scenes are shot there), horse carts taking up the road (WHICH ARE TINY and are also full of large trucks that are carrying the goods that are partly responsible for the changes) and on the other you have a country that is coming into the EU this year. It all leads to a very odd, disjointed access to and hunger for foreign cultures. Everybody seemed to pick a look and take it to the n'th degree but were perfectly willing to hang out with everybody. As America has had many years for their distinctive individual sub-cultures and looks to solidify, Eastern Europe has not and nowhere was more emblematic of this cultural egalitarianism than in the aforementioned "hippy town" of Vama Vece. After the glowing recommendation of swinging Vern we had to check it out. What we were met with was something akin to the dirt Main Street's of the Old West, only every store was a saloon or beer and liquor laced bodega. What was sold as a hippy town looked, from people to architecture, distinctly like some sort of post apocalyptic Ozz cum Warped Fest. Goths, metal heads, square guys, bohemians, punks everywhere. Where was the summer of love, people with flowers in their hair and freedom from commercial convention? After finding a place to crash, I won't dub it a hotel, although it dubbed itself the "punk hotel", we hit the town. Finding the place initially sadly bizarre we decided to head down to the beach. What we found were huge sound systems, open air bars, hundreds of tents and thousands of people dancing to everything from 50's Chuck Berry to Nine Inch Nails. Literally every major sub-cultural look in America was represented and all of them were hanging out and dancing to Britney, Abba and Queen. There is something strange in watching a pierced and tattooed punk singing his lungs off to Mrs. (I'm sorry, Miss. now) Spears. As the night wore on and we tried to get away from the large mosh pit full of naked hippies, punks and metal heads we found ourselves dancing next to a group of seeming supermodels who began trying to talk to us. We, 4 white guys without one iota of rhythm, are by no means good dancers but must have "had it going on", at least comparatively, to the naked mosh pit guys. As it turned out they were in town for the Romanian Diaspora Beauty Pageant and this was their one night off from pageant festivities. While they seemed younger than us, we thought they were 21, maybe 22 but when one of them said in seeming anticipation of the interview portion of the event, "When I graduate from high school I want to see the world and make it a better place." We decided that after a photo for posterity we should move on. If you're interested, check out the link http://www.missdiaspora.ro/main.htm. We danced with the winner! From there we headed to Bucharest, where I can confidently say I wish to never return. Aside from the second largest building in the world, built by Ceausescu, which took 3 shifts a day of 20,000 workers and 700 architects, 5 years to build, it's a typically crummy communist city filled with little joy. Seriously, no one smiles, it may just be their affect but its makes you want to get out of there as fast as you can and that's what we did.
(check out Chris and Scott's faces in this picture, politely pretending not to notice that one of the men they were chatting with- not Vern, incidentally, he is on the far right - was wearing a speedo and boots) Vern, evidently, was born and raised in Wethersfield but due to "economic and political" circumstances had decided to move to the Black Sea coast of Romania. Whence there he had his car shipped, 10 years prior mind you, and failed to register the car with the Romanian government. Vern began by telling us a bit about his life in Romania, "ahh man this place is paradise, especially that little hippy town you just passed a mile back. The place is heaven, I found it about 8 years ago and I've been spending my summers down here, just everybody hanging out and having fun . . . so many ladies." During this time there were two young boys who were bouncing around the car and when the attention shifted to them Vern introduced us to "these guys, they're my kids and I'm heading home to put them to bed before heading out, well I should show you around, you know take you out, I don't see many folks from CT but I have a date, actually a double date, you know two ladies". Upon the double date clarification, with its requisite wink, the distinct impression began to overtake me that we were looking at a modern day 70's style swinger. Equipped with the requisite hairy gut and back, he fit the bill, only his swinging lifestyle had obviously hit a few bumps, actually two, sitting in the back of his car ready to be put to sleep. A quick examination of Dictionary.com yields a number of definitions for the word "Swinger" but the one that I find most humorous and apropos of Vern and his historical place in Romania is; A person who actively seeks excitement and moves with the latest trends. Romania is most definitely experiencing its fair share of excitement and massive influx of access to the latest of trends. It was fascinating to witness how those changes are evincing themselves. On one hand you have a country of gypsies who live in dirt poor villages straight out of the middle ages (in fact, the Borat village scenes are shot there), horse carts taking up the road (WHICH ARE TINY and are also full of large trucks that are carrying the goods that are partly responsible for the changes) and on the other you have a country that is coming into the EU this year. It all leads to a very odd, disjointed access to and hunger for foreign cultures. Everybody seemed to pick a look and take it to the n'th degree but were perfectly willing to hang out with everybody. As America has had many years for their distinctive individual sub-cultures and looks to solidify, Eastern Europe has not and nowhere was more emblematic of this cultural egalitarianism than in the aforementioned "hippy town" of Vama Vece. After the glowing recommendation of swinging Vern we had to check it out. What we were met with was something akin to the dirt Main Street's of the Old West, only every store was a saloon or beer and liquor laced bodega. What was sold as a hippy town looked, from people to architecture, distinctly like some sort of post apocalyptic Ozz cum Warped Fest. Goths, metal heads, square guys, bohemians, punks everywhere. Where was the summer of love, people with flowers in their hair and freedom from commercial convention? After finding a place to crash, I won't dub it a hotel, although it dubbed itself the "punk hotel", we hit the town. Finding the place initially sadly bizarre we decided to head down to the beach. What we found were huge sound systems, open air bars, hundreds of tents and thousands of people dancing to everything from 50's Chuck Berry to Nine Inch Nails. Literally every major sub-cultural look in America was represented and all of them were hanging out and dancing to Britney, Abba and Queen. There is something strange in watching a pierced and tattooed punk singing his lungs off to Mrs. (I'm sorry, Miss. now) Spears. As the night wore on and we tried to get away from the large mosh pit full of naked hippies, punks and metal heads we found ourselves dancing next to a group of seeming supermodels who began trying to talk to us. We, 4 white guys without one iota of rhythm, are by no means good dancers but must have "had it going on", at least comparatively, to the naked mosh pit guys. As it turned out they were in town for the Romanian Diaspora Beauty Pageant and this was their one night off from pageant festivities. While they seemed younger than us, we thought they were 21, maybe 22 but when one of them said in seeming anticipation of the interview portion of the event, "When I graduate from high school I want to see the world and make it a better place." We decided that after a photo for posterity we should move on. If you're interested, check out the link http://www.missdiaspora.ro/main.htm. We danced with the winner! From there we headed to Bucharest, where I can confidently say I wish to never return. Aside from the second largest building in the world, built by Ceausescu, which took 3 shifts a day of 20,000 workers and 700 architects, 5 years to build, it's a typically crummy communist city filled with little joy. Seriously, no one smiles, it may just be their affect but its makes you want to get out of there as fast as you can and that's what we did. Having seen what communism has wrought throughout Bulgaria and Romania I can't help but see the striking corollary between the following quote from the great Samuel Johnson and what we witnessed from Bulgaria to the Hungarian border (although I'm told that we just missed the same in Hungary, Czech Republic and Germany). "I look upon it, that he who does not mind his belly, will hardly mind anything else." Having forced the people to suffer through communism they gave them the gut. It, the gut, fueled by bad food and booze, allows them to overlook all else, from the horrific housing and infrastructure to the poverty and alcoholism, the men and women seem comfortable in their skin and their place in the world. As you can see from the accompanying pictures of guts and speedos (sometimes together. YUCK!) there is far to much 
skin 
skin 
being shown. For the first time in my life I, or at least my eyes and stomach, were wishing for a little more Christian conservatism or Islamic fundamentalism. 
Oh the humanity. After the dermal overdose of Bulgaria and Romania it was good to get to the cold and wet weather of Hungary. Budapest is a lovely city that, at this point, is much more Western Europe than Eastern or at least when they're not rioting due to the incompetent, albeit democratically elected government (not unlike a certain other government we know...)
Oh the humanity. After the dermal overdose of Bulgaria and Romania it was good to get to the cold and wet weather of Hungary. Budapest is a lovely city that, at this point, is much more Western Europe than Eastern or at least when they're not rioting due to the incompetent, albeit democratically elected government (not unlike a certain other government we know...) Czech Republic...Where the Beer Was Cheaper Than Water (it's true!)
After picking up Jenna and sending Matt and Scott on their way back to the States, we decided to hightail it to the Czech Republic to begin the beer tour. A few days prior to his flight, Will found a Wall Steet Journal article (I tried to link to it but the cheapskates at WSJ require a password. If you can get it, read it, it's a good article!) about beer tourism in Czech (oddly followed by a different article on the exact. same. subject in the New York Times (who, seemingly, are not as cheap as the Journal) the next week and we figured it wasn't a bad way to see a country. What with beer goggles making most everything else attractive it couldn't be the worst approach to travel. As all we had was a general 1 by 2 inch map of the country with various dots and no roads marked we decided to drive to what looked like the location and begin asking around. Shockingly our first stop, Stramberk, proved quite difficult to find. Evidently Stramberk is the Czech equivalent of Springfield. After debating which one to head to with the wonderful woman at the local tourist office, we struck off to what would prove to be the correct place. What we ended up finding was an absolutely gorgeous little village and the brewery the WSJ author claimed to brew the "best beer [he'd] ever tasted" nestled between steep hills overlooked by a castle tower. After exploring the brewery and its underground stone labyrinth of nooks and crannies we settled in for the first pint on the communal outdoor tables that overlooked the town square. The brewery would indeed prove to hold the best beer any one of us had ever tasted (as beer is highly subjective I am loath to call it the best beer in the world but it's as damn close as you can safely get) and as we settled in for an evening of beer and Boggle (we became addicted to the game) we noticed the locals eying us relentlessly. Evidently the town sees very little tourism and what it does see comes from Poland and Czech Republic. So as we sat in the fading summer sun we struck up a conversation with the highly drunk and boisterous table next to us. They were in town, having ridden their bicycles from the 
surrounding countryside, some up to 50 km away, to celebrate their friend Vidus's birthday. As the Czech Republic ranks number one in per capita beer consumption at 160 liters for every man, woman and child I sensed that this crew was and would do more of its fair share. As the night wore on and they felt safe that we were anti-Bush they opened up telling us about their impressions of America today and how they contrasted with their impressions before the curtain fell. How they felt Bush was destroying their and the world's perception of America. How different their lives have been since the Velvet Revolution and what an exciting time it is to be Czech or at least that is what I remember before my brain was fully submerged and swimming gloriously in the local brew. As the night wore down one of the guys went off to try and unlock their bikes. After much discussion and laughing they revealed that they had forgotten the code and were therefore preparing to sleep in the park. After laughing about how in the hell you forget the code to the bike lock you've been using for years I suggested that I may be able to cut it with my leatherman, you know, McGyver style. Knowing that the leatherman fears nothing I plunged in headlong. While it wasn't easy I can now say that it is possible to cut a bike lock with a medium sized leatherman. I don't know if that's a compliment to leatherman or a reflection of post-Soviet bike lock manufacturing. As they unevenly and unsafely rode off into the night I prayed for any one of the various Gods to see them home safely. I know that if I had to get on a bike and ride anywhere from 20-50 km I would most assuredly kill myself. The next day we ended up having dinner with Zuzanna (a local fluent in English, living in Rome, doing Czech to Italian translations for the Czech consulate) and her mother who eased our fears by telling us that everyone had gotten home safely.
surrounding countryside, some up to 50 km away, to celebrate their friend Vidus's birthday. As the Czech Republic ranks number one in per capita beer consumption at 160 liters for every man, woman and child I sensed that this crew was and would do more of its fair share. As the night wore on and they felt safe that we were anti-Bush they opened up telling us about their impressions of America today and how they contrasted with their impressions before the curtain fell. How they felt Bush was destroying their and the world's perception of America. How different their lives have been since the Velvet Revolution and what an exciting time it is to be Czech or at least that is what I remember before my brain was fully submerged and swimming gloriously in the local brew. As the night wore down one of the guys went off to try and unlock their bikes. After much discussion and laughing they revealed that they had forgotten the code and were therefore preparing to sleep in the park. After laughing about how in the hell you forget the code to the bike lock you've been using for years I suggested that I may be able to cut it with my leatherman, you know, McGyver style. Knowing that the leatherman fears nothing I plunged in headlong. While it wasn't easy I can now say that it is possible to cut a bike lock with a medium sized leatherman. I don't know if that's a compliment to leatherman or a reflection of post-Soviet bike lock manufacturing. As they unevenly and unsafely rode off into the night I prayed for any one of the various Gods to see them home safely. I know that if I had to get on a bike and ride anywhere from 20-50 km I would most assuredly kill myself. The next day we ended up having dinner with Zuzanna (a local fluent in English, living in Rome, doing Czech to Italian translations for the Czech consulate) and her mother who eased our fears by telling us that everyone had gotten home safely. From there we headed to Prague with its tourist clogged streets, and would suggest visiting out of season. It's as beautiful as they say though if you can deal with the hoards. After a few days we decided we had had enough with city life and headed back to the country or more specifically to a beer spa. That's right, a spa that is based on the healing properties of . . . err, beer. While they offered the usual massages and wraps, the reason people go is for the beer baths. This entails lying in a large metal bathtub full of a stout-like beer 
while drinking more of the same. It's a kind of internal and external cleansing that sure as hell beats your run of the mill heath club scene. Admittedly, my skin had never felt softer so there must be something to it. Add to this a 12th century fermentation cave turned into a restaurant that serves the most garlicky soup in the world and you have yourself a perfect vacation destination that both sexes can agree on. After our paradigm shifting "de-tox" it was time to re-tox so we headed down to Cesky Krumlov and its Eggenberg brewery. Situated on a large oxbow of the Vltava River, over-looked by a requisite castle, it's one of the most picturesque towns in Europe. Jenna says to make sure and do the tubing. (ha, ha. I nearly was lost forever to the Vltava River. In the rain. it was fun) From here we headed west to Munich for a few days before Jenna and I turned south (back towards work) and Will headed to Copenhagen. Crossing Austria in a hurricane like deluge on constant aquaplane (yeah, the car might look good but isn't the best in the rain) we crossed into Slovenia as the clouds were parting. Due to time constraints and the fact that we couldn't pronounce it, we skipped Ljubljana and instead headed for Bled. Suffice it to say, Bled is all the tour books make it out to be, a picturesque town on a mountain lake with good pizza. At this point we were getting antsy to get to our next destination of Croatia and getting a few days of hiking in before heading back to Istanbul.
while drinking more of the same. It's a kind of internal and external cleansing that sure as hell beats your run of the mill heath club scene. Admittedly, my skin had never felt softer so there must be something to it. Add to this a 12th century fermentation cave turned into a restaurant that serves the most garlicky soup in the world and you have yourself a perfect vacation destination that both sexes can agree on. After our paradigm shifting "de-tox" it was time to re-tox so we headed down to Cesky Krumlov and its Eggenberg brewery. Situated on a large oxbow of the Vltava River, over-looked by a requisite castle, it's one of the most picturesque towns in Europe. Jenna says to make sure and do the tubing. (ha, ha. I nearly was lost forever to the Vltava River. In the rain. it was fun) From here we headed west to Munich for a few days before Jenna and I turned south (back towards work) and Will headed to Copenhagen. Crossing Austria in a hurricane like deluge on constant aquaplane (yeah, the car might look good but isn't the best in the rain) we crossed into Slovenia as the clouds were parting. Due to time constraints and the fact that we couldn't pronounce it, we skipped Ljubljana and instead headed for Bled. Suffice it to say, Bled is all the tour books make it out to be, a picturesque town on a mountain lake with good pizza. At this point we were getting antsy to get to our next destination of Croatia and getting a few days of hiking in before heading back to Istanbul. Croatia would turn out to be a land of many troubles, from the 20 minute, highly sketchy, closed door interrogation I received at the border for being a "drug smuggler" to the inability of finding a hotel room in Rovinj and subsequent night of NO sleep in an old lady's "extra room", to signs stating "Do Not Enter LAND MINES"
along a road to the largest national park, to the car breaking down, we may have been the first people happy to see the Welcome to Serbia sign. We did end up getting some hiking in and it's a beautiful country, I just suggest going out of season as it was a mad house.
along a road to the largest national park, to the car breaking down, we may have been the first people happy to see the Welcome to Serbia sign. We did end up getting some hiking in and it's a beautiful country, I just suggest going out of season as it was a mad house. Speaking of land mines and other such horrors of war. . . Serbia. What can I say about Serbia, well, it's about as nice as Bucharest. It was fascinating to enter a city only 7 years out from a NATO aerial bombardment. Still having major bombed out city center buildings laying in various states of disrepair, its not your run of the mill vacation spot. 
Its got a long way to go but you could see rebuilding everywhere, sadly I suppose the people are used to this as the city has been destroyed and rebuilt 40 times in its 2300 year history. Another humorous, very much in hindsight, aspect of Serbia, is the fact that currency exchange businesses at the border don't even take the currency. This proved to be a problem when all we had were Serbian dinars at the Bulgarian border. After telling each and every currency exchange place what I thought of them and their mothers I found and then pleaded with a guy, buying 5 cartons of cigarettes at duty free, heading to Serbia, who was willing to give me 10 euros for 16 euros in dinar. All to pay the Bulgarian border patrol, 
who only accept euro to "disinfect" my car. Freaking Balkans.
Its got a long way to go but you could see rebuilding everywhere, sadly I suppose the people are used to this as the city has been destroyed and rebuilt 40 times in its 2300 year history. Another humorous, very much in hindsight, aspect of Serbia, is the fact that currency exchange businesses at the border don't even take the currency. This proved to be a problem when all we had were Serbian dinars at the Bulgarian border. After telling each and every currency exchange place what I thought of them and their mothers I found and then pleaded with a guy, buying 5 cartons of cigarettes at duty free, heading to Serbia, who was willing to give me 10 euros for 16 euros in dinar. All to pay the Bulgarian border patrol, 
who only accept euro to "disinfect" my car. Freaking Balkans. After an all out assault on the Bulgarian motorways, we got to the Turkish border in a few hours. After the uniform brusqueness of the Eastern European border patrol, what would ensue at the Turkish border was a sight to behold. As I have mentioned in previous emails the Turkish people have to be the most hospitable on earth and this story is just the icing on the cake. As the border guard was inspecting our passports I asked him in my broken Turkish where Jenna (cough: illegal) could get a new visa. He pointed us to a booth off to the side and said we could park the car and walk over to it. After rustling up the visa official, who was asleep, we were back to the first booth. After exchanging the usual pleasantries he asked us if we would like to have tea with him. Not being asked this at any of our many other border crossings, we accepted. At this point he left his booth, effectively closing the border, to take us off to the guard shack, to have a drink with he and his coworkers. So as we stood in the no mans land of the Bulgarian-Turkish border, drinking our hot tea, the head lights began to pile up. Jenna and I gave each other a few looks wondering if they noticed or cared. Obviously they didn't because they drank and chatted with us for 20 minutes before returning to their posts, gracious hosts to the end. So here we are back in Istanbul adjusting relatively seamlessly to cohabitation and our respective new jobs. I am teaching younger kids than last year and am enjoying it while Jenna is having a great time with her kids. Who can argue with a job where your coworkers order a bunch of chicken wings so that you can bury them in the garden and the kids can dig them up as archaeologists. I hope you all have a wonderful Thanksgiving and have a little turkey for me (surprisingly its very hard to get here). Chris
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Happy Turkey Day to everyone at home! We wish we could be there. Eat lots of Turkey and get sleepy for us, as we can find no Turkey here. Ironic, isn't it? Sending some holiday cheer from us to you....
Sunday, November 05, 2006
In my day, we had to walk from Asia to Europe. Sometimes in a snowstorm!
This was mildly disturbing for several reasons (like the fact that my winter coat is sitting snugly in a closet in a sleepy Connecticut town or the fact that it's only NOVEMBER!), but it was mainly disturbing because we were supposed to participate in the Istanbul marathon the next morning, and there was no chance I'd go if it was snowing!
Here is the start of the marathon (obviously) on the bridge
over the Bosphorus... As I learned today, most of the Turks just use the opportunity to walk across the bridge and then turn around and walk back.
There was an anti-smoking campaign going on today, but the only (and I'm not exaggerating) sign of it was this odd-looking sad/angry cigarette standing on the side of the bridge. All on it's own. It was very strange and confusing.
This was an interesting weekend....I left for work on Saturday morning in a snowstorm. You can't see the evidence very well in this photo, but I tried my best. It's only November, but the storm lasted all day, and while barely any of the snow remained on the ground, it still looked and felt like a blizzard...
This was mildly disturbing for several reasons (like the fact that my winter coat is sitting snugly in a closet in a sleepy Connecticut town or the fact that it's only NOVEMBER!), but it was mainly disturbing because we were supposed to participate in the Istanbul marathon the next morning, and there was no chance I'd go if it was snowing!
*Luckily* when we woke up this morning (unrelated but notable...after a big win at poker night last night - up 60 lira, collectively between us! It definitely saved us face after a disheartening loss in our last poker night) it was to a beautiful sunny, albeit freezing, day for the marathon. Chris was quite impressive, waking up at 7am to run a 15k starting with the above-mentioned dash across the bridge from Asia to Europe (the one day a year that the bridge is open to pedestrians). I was slightly less impressive, but still managed to walk a 10k, a little later that morning (and with a simit stop midway, with some other teachers. Here are some pics (unfortunately, I have none of Chris, since I was sound asleep while he was racing across the continents)...
Here is the start of the marathon (obviously) on the bridge
over the Bosphorus... As I learned today, most of the Turks just use the opportunity to walk across the bridge and then turn around and walk back.
Welcome to Europe:
There was an anti-smoking campaign going on today, but the only (and I'm not exaggerating) sign of it was this odd-looking sad/angry cigarette standing on the side of the bridge. All on it's own. It was very strange and confusing.Monday, October 16, 2006
I have been meaning to write about the best in-store marketing campaign I have seen in a long time. I spotted this in a the window of a pharmacy near the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, over the summer. I just couldn't get over it. Hopefully you can make out the writing on the boxes. I mean, it's brilliant, and in Turkey of all places! I guess it's just women who are supposed to be modest here...
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Better late than never?
OK, so I know I never finished posting about the summer, but I have honestly been really busy, and I'm going to update right now...
After my parents left, Chris' friend Scott came to visit and I took off to sunny and HOT Barcelona to visit Temple, who I absolutely love, and who was living in Barcelona during the summer. We had the best time - highlights included just about the best 'first night' one can imagine in a new city (especially coming from a city where one's favorite foods are very difficult to come by): Oysters and Cava at one restaurant, followed by a visit to a restaurant called CHEESE ME (!!!) and yes, it was as good as it sounds, and was made even better with it's accompaniment of delicious Spanish wine. Everyone should go to Barcelona, athough maybe not in the middle of July, where it was 35 degrees Celsius, I think above 90 Farenheit, at midnight! It has everything - amazing food and drink, a great party atmosphere, incredibly chill bars on the beach, where you can sit at the bar, or spill over onto the sand and it's all fine...It is also one of the most architecturally amazing cities I have visited. I hadn't seen any of Antionio Gaudi's work before visiting Barcelona, but it is just incredible. His famous church, Sagrada Familia was incredible, but remains a work in progress after he was hit by a tram and killed in the 1920's. He was also the architect of the most fantastical park I have ever seen, Park Guell. The story is that it was originally built as part of a high-end housing development, which never came to be. The result is this park, which you really have to see to believe.
We also rented a funny little car and got out of the city for a couple of days, visiting the Teatro Museo Dali, which was insane, and definitely required more than the few hours we spent. The coolest thing in this fun house/museum was "Gala Contemplating the Mediterranean Sea Which at Twenty Meters Becomes the Portrait of Abraham Lincoln" which really really does change from one image to another, as you walk away from the paintin, or as happened in my case, when you look at it through the screen on your camera.
Temple and I were so well taken care of in Barcelona, by her fantastic friend Sam, her two fun kids and of course Alvaro who, while officially charged with watching the kids, ended up taking care of us as well!
It was such a great trip and I can't wait to go back to Barcelona!
OK, so I know I never finished posting about the summer, but I have honestly been really busy, and I'm going to update right now...
After my parents left, Chris' friend Scott came to visit and I took off to sunny and HOT Barcelona to visit Temple, who I absolutely love, and who was living in Barcelona during the summer. We had the best time - highlights included just about the best 'first night' one can imagine in a new city (especially coming from a city where one's favorite foods are very difficult to come by): Oysters and Cava at one restaurant, followed by a visit to a restaurant called CHEESE ME (!!!) and yes, it was as good as it sounds, and was made even better with it's accompaniment of delicious Spanish wine. Everyone should go to Barcelona, athough maybe not in the middle of July, where it was 35 degrees Celsius, I think above 90 Farenheit, at midnight! It has everything - amazing food and drink, a great party atmosphere, incredibly chill bars on the beach, where you can sit at the bar, or spill over onto the sand and it's all fine...It is also one of the most architecturally amazing cities I have visited. I hadn't seen any of Antionio Gaudi's work before visiting Barcelona, but it is just incredible. His famous church, Sagrada Familia was incredible, but remains a work in progress after he was hit by a tram and killed in the 1920's. He was also the architect of the most fantastical park I have ever seen, Park Guell. The story is that it was originally built as part of a high-end housing development, which never came to be. The result is this park, which you really have to see to believe.
We also rented a funny little car and got out of the city for a couple of days, visiting the Teatro Museo Dali, which was insane, and definitely required more than the few hours we spent. The coolest thing in this fun house/museum was "Gala Contemplating the Mediterranean Sea Which at Twenty Meters Becomes the Portrait of Abraham Lincoln" which really really does change from one image to another, as you walk away from the paintin, or as happened in my case, when you look at it through the screen on your camera.
Temple and I were so well taken care of in Barcelona, by her fantastic friend Sam, her two fun kids and of course Alvaro who, while officially charged with watching the kids, ended up taking care of us as well!
It was such a great trip and I can't wait to go back to Barcelona!
The way I see it, I'm practically Turkish...
Last week, although I was wary, partially because of our prior week's disastrous visit to get Chris' car papers renewed (2 hours in the car, surrounded by diesel fumes, to go about 3 kilometers, only to be turned away at the car office because Chris was missing a signed paper he didn't need last year for the original car papers) and partially due to Chris' uncertainty ("you can get one with just an address and your passport??"), I made my way to the Uskudar Tax Office to get myself a Turkish tax ID number... Walking into the 1960's style (and smelly, as most confined public places usually are here) government building and waiting on the "line" (read: amorphous group of people standing in the general vicinity of a desk), I thought my trip would be about as successful as Chris' car re-registration, but after about 45 minutes of waiting in the cloud of body oder, and some helpful translations from a gentleman in line who spoke a few words of English ("name of your father" and "what hotel?" - side note, you can get a tax number if you're just visiting and staying at the Hilton??) I walked out of there the proud owner of a Turkish Tax ID, oh-so-officially handwritten on a little teeny business card.
The next day, I opened my very own Turkish bank account (with the help of a co-worker, who explained that yes, I actually did need to sign each page of the 36 page "small print" document).
So, really, I'm almost Turkish now, right?
Last week, although I was wary, partially because of our prior week's disastrous visit to get Chris' car papers renewed (2 hours in the car, surrounded by diesel fumes, to go about 3 kilometers, only to be turned away at the car office because Chris was missing a signed paper he didn't need last year for the original car papers) and partially due to Chris' uncertainty ("you can get one with just an address and your passport??"), I made my way to the Uskudar Tax Office to get myself a Turkish tax ID number... Walking into the 1960's style (and smelly, as most confined public places usually are here) government building and waiting on the "line" (read: amorphous group of people standing in the general vicinity of a desk), I thought my trip would be about as successful as Chris' car re-registration, but after about 45 minutes of waiting in the cloud of body oder, and some helpful translations from a gentleman in line who spoke a few words of English ("name of your father" and "what hotel?" - side note, you can get a tax number if you're just visiting and staying at the Hilton??) I walked out of there the proud owner of a Turkish Tax ID, oh-so-officially handwritten on a little teeny business card.
The next day, I opened my very own Turkish bank account (with the help of a co-worker, who explained that yes, I actually did need to sign each page of the 36 page "small print" document).
So, really, I'm almost Turkish now, right?
Friday, September 15, 2006
Back to Work!
I have been busy getting started at my new job, which is why I haven't updated this site in a while. You know, busy playing with pre-schoolers computer games, researching ideas for great crafts and science activities for aforementioned pre-schoolers, before they arrive next week. Quite a difference from my last job!
In my research, I came across this great site: www.jacksonpollock.org - Check it out, but I'll warn you, you might become addicted!
I'll try to update some posts soon!
Oh, all of my photos from the summer are now here, feel free to look, and I'll update as soon as I can!
I have been busy getting started at my new job, which is why I haven't updated this site in a while. You know, busy playing with pre-schoolers computer games, researching ideas for great crafts and science activities for aforementioned pre-schoolers, before they arrive next week. Quite a difference from my last job!
In my research, I came across this great site: www.jacksonpollock.org - Check it out, but I'll warn you, you might become addicted!
I'll try to update some posts soon!
Oh, all of my photos from the summer are now here, feel free to look, and I'll update as soon as I can!
Friday, September 01, 2006
One of the best things about my family's visit is the fact that everyone found a little love...Maryn was eyed by more Turkish men than defensless countries during the reign of the Ottoman Empire. She got her first marriage proposal from none other than Marco, our carpet seller in Selcuk.
He gave her a lovely bracelet to remember him by,
And even took her on a Magic Carpet Ride!
I know this suitor seems a little old, and well, stiff. But I can assure you he had a GREAT personality!
After we finished our coastal travels and returned to Istanbul, Maryn (well, her father, if we're being technical about it) was offered many camels for her hand in marriage, by a few different men, including an apprentice of Huseyin's (see below) and a textile merchant about whom we haven't entirely made up our minds, but by far the most eligible bachelor was one Roger Stubbs, father of Peter, teller of great tales, and offerer of many, many camels!Roger, Maryn or no Maryn, let's hang out again soon!
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