goodbye, intelligent spies

it's after the fact, but turkey deserves a post. here are excerpts from moleskine #4.

4 october
right now i am in kaya koi, the "ghost town" created when a town of ethnic greeks relocated to greece in the 1920s. the turks in greece who were meant to replace them never came. then an earthquake left the town in bad shape, and it's been abandoned more or less ever since. today the stone walls are half crumbled, but it's easy to make out walls with windows, some plaster covered in faded blue paint... now trees wind up through cracked foundations into former kitchens. weeds carpet interiors yellow and brittle. dogs' barks at one end of the valley echo through roofless structures built into the hillside. after paying five lira for the privlege of wandering around i started straight up, losing the narrow cobbled path in favor of climbing around the walls. across the valley clouds had built up, a rumbling grey-blue haze. standing near the top of the hill, hearing nothing but far-off thunder and the prayer call, familiarly disonant. a little wind, gravel shifting under my sandals. derek left me then to head down, saying something about lightning. it was better to be alone anyway. what a place to feel completely alone.

9 october
sunday morning wasn't a total loss. we all woke up late, took a ferry to the asian side and went in search of istanbul's highest hill. at julian's urging we actually walked all the way to the top, which turned out to be lovely- a park with low tables under trees, cheap food and turkish people with kids spending a sunday afternoon. an ice cream vendor played tricks on anita, pretending to drop the cone, spinning around this taffy-like ice cream. it seems that all turkish sweets are gooey- this ice cream, turkish delight, the melted colored candy the guy wraps around the stick which immediately melts into a blob: all goo. anyway. views from the hill are stunning. a giant turkish flag rivals that of any US car dealer. i drink a cola turk before walking back down the hill. it's a slow day, perfectly paced. julian and i head across the bosphorus toward taskim square, walking past the stadium buzzing with a football match. a ramadan market is set up in the square, and families dress up in old fashioned turkish costumes for glamour shot-style photos for only five lira. i half-way seriously try to talk julian into it but he doesn't bite. as we're on our way out an old man tries to sell us a drink that he claims we will drink in heaven, with Allah and Mohamed and Jesus and everybody. it turns out to be a sort of vegetable broth. we stand there holding the little plastic cups while he learns that we are american and berates us on our country's actions (the "underground government's" actions, to be precise), which he calls "the shame of history." he is not a fan of britain either ("like snake poison and rat poison together.") in fact, he doesn't like turkey either. everyone is dishonest, he says. we aren't saying much--following his logic is a little complicated (he claims the jews were behind hitler), but his tone is never threatening. he speaks matter-of-factly, as though he's explaining weather patterns. so when we break away we say thanks and he shakes our hands. "goodbye, intelligent spies!"

after the sun sets during ramadan the plaza and park in front of the blue mosque fill up with vendors- jewelry, knick knacks, a fat kid selling a rabbit... cotton candy, corn on the cob, popcorn popping in a sifter over a gas stove... lights, kids, nighttime picnics, live music. we catch the end of the show and buy some roasted chestnuts. this is where oz, who apparently never leaves his side of istanbul, was shocked and dismissed the the whole lot as conservative when we walked through the crowds saturday. here all of the women cover their heads. but the scarves are colorful--all but the most conservative (head to toe in shapeless black) are stylish in fitted jackets, flared long skirts with boots or heels. different parts of town see more pants, more bare arms, more women without scarves. i've been wearing pants and a shirt around and for the most part have felt fine... in fact people have been nothing but nice. tonight i took off on my own and went to the asian side, where i decided on a whim to try on a pair of jeans. this is out of the tourist center and not so many people speak english. at one point i had four of the store staff gathered around trying to explain something (i'd asked the price). it was comical. but they were nice. it's my fault i don't speak turkish, anyway. i'd like to learn. i'd like to come back and live here. there's something about the place.

11 october
the nyc skyline never surfaced. we might have landed on a cloud... america saved me a storm. descent was more than a little rocky. but i made it in time for a two-hour delay. eleven hour flight and six-hour layover... it's four a.m. in my head. i bought a coffee as much to stay warm as to wake up. after weeks of turkish coffee or cappucinos, filter coffee is like dirty water. but the new york times was delicious.