The 257th, and (most likely) final post of my Summer 2009 Adventure

I intend to use this same blog for future travels, but until then - here is my farewell.

All good things come to an end. My flight from Istanbul, KLM 8380 marked the beginning of that end. My final day was spent enjoying the present and pondering the future, the evening before, in contemplation of the time that has passed.

Last night I went to the Hamam again, as I wrote in a prior post, and there I contemplated the next steps in my larger all encompassing journey. When I return, I will be committing nearly all of my time to finding a full time position with a firm. In preparation of that, I shed the mountain man appearance I had acquired this morning with a straight razor shave and a haircut. Renewed (you can actually see my face without pushing around hair that had grown quite long these past months) I took a final walk, heading to the Blue Mosque. I have been there a few times, just to sit in the majesticness and enjoy the solemn nature of the Mosque. Today, was different. It was bustling with loud tourists, obnoxious tour guides, and rude people. There was little respect for the Mosque or those who had come for reasons other than to take pictures. I departed quickly, finding no peace to enjoy my final moments. I walked back up towards Cemberlitas, which is near my hotel. I had a pickup at 12:00 noon. I decided to keep walking, and found myself in a new neighborhood, with a large mosque. I wandered in to discover the peace and quiet I was looking for. It was nearly as large as the Blue Mosque, and yet only one other person was there. I sat on the red carpet, and basked in the solitude. When I felt peaceful, I stood up, took my shoes, and headed to the hotel to check out.

From the hotel, a taxi took me to the airport where after waiting on a long line, I finally checked in and made my way to the gate. I slept the first portion of the flight to Amsterdam, missing the meal, and instead was given a Banana that wasn’t quite ripe yet. I read some James Bond, and then started to put my thoughts down. Below I have summed up my adventures. Call it the executive portion.

I arrived in Casablanca after a connection through Amsterdam in late June. I nearly had missed my flight from New York when I missed the train to JFK, and had to take another. However, the company of my final farewells and coffees were quite worth the anxiety of running through the airport, walking onto the plane and hearing the doors shut behind me.

In Casablanca, I took a taxi to the train, and then a train to Marrakech. My first experience in Marrakech was a group of unruly children brining me to my hotel. They each wanted a tip. A kind girl across from the Riad Davia, where I was staying, invited me in to sit until the owner could be summoned. There was some confusion on the date I was checking in.

My first days in Morocco were hot, confusing, and pleasing to the senses. The food was alright, the smells were delightful, and the souqs were pure tourist traps. Luck fell into my lap in the final evening when the family of the owner arrived to stay, from Paris, and I was invited to go out with them. We left the Medina, the tourist traps, and went to a night club where we stayed until very late. It was a completely different Morocco from the place I had come to know. The following day, I was invited to come with them again and we went to more traditional souqs where we were served tea, invited to try things, and not pushed to buy things simply to buy.

That evening I went to the train station, where I met up with Susannah and Genna and a friend of Susannah. We traveled to Rabat where we stayed one night, and then on to Fez. Fez was very different, very beautiful, and just wonderful. I imagine I owe much of that to Susannah, who guided us away from touristy places and into little special area. At Café Glock, I had my first, and only, camel burger. It smelled like camel, but was otherwise quite good.

We visited many things I would never have known about just walking by myself such as the tannery, the weaving area where we saw large looms, and an herbalist. We had stopped at an herbalist in Marrakech, with the French. They had been speaking in Arabic and French for a while, and eventually someone had turned to me, “we are discussing how we are going to cure you of being American” he explained. Through Susannah, I told them I was having some trouble sleeping and heavy breathing (Genna who is a light sleeper had trouble sharing the room the nights previous in Rabat) sometimes snoring. He asked many questions about different parts of my body and other habits I have, paints and discomforts, he then prescribed a remedy that included eating 11 dates before breakfast, and drinking large amounts of water, and apple vinegar, that will take 40 days to get the various cycles in my body back into sync. It was all amazing, but not the most amazing part.

The most magical part was when Susannah invited me to join her host family for meals. We were treated as royal guests, and given a feast each time we came to dine. The couscous was incredible. We tried many different dishes.

The second most amazing thing was Hamam, the Moroccan bathhouse. We went for the luxury spa version. It was incredibly cheap, and amazing. I was twisted, scrubbed, rubbed, washed, bent, cracked, stretched and many more things. I left feeling cleaner than I had ever felt, my skin radiant, my smile from ear to ear. From Hamam I was introduced to Fez fruit salad, a wonderful mixture of avocado and other fruits. Delicious.

Before the Hamam, we got dirty going for a hike in a nearby mountain, to really feel extra clean comparatively.

I left Susannah and Genna and headed to Tangiers. I wish I could spend more time there, what I saw was not nearly as magical as what I had experienced prior. I suppose I had hit the high points of my trip in the meals with Susannah’s host family, and Hamam. I tried to recapture one final Moroccan meal at a restaurant, and left more disappointed than I thought was possible.

The boat to Algeciras was very peaceful. I chatted with a family from the Midwest, and upon arriving, went to wait for my train. From Algeciras I spent five hours looking at olives. Five hours of olive trees and I arrived in Madrid. It was very late in the evening. A series of metros, busses, and trains (a girl on the bus tried to ask me to go dancing) and I arrived at CTY. The site director’s fond memory of my arrival was me bouncing in, introducing myself, and apologizing for any smell after such a long journey.

The weeks that followed at the camp were a blur, save the beginning and the end. At the beginning, before the students arrived, the staff went out and had a lovely time. A group of us ended up spending the night getting to know each other between tapas bars and little restaurants. It was a great start.

With the arrival of the students, we became a little more serious and took to their safety and happiness. It was my first CTY, and for many of them, they had already done this many times. I often turned to them with questions. It is a camp of traditions. I have written many times about the lack of tradition in America as opposed to Europe, but I think summer camps are one place where tradition remains strong.

There were the usual frustrations of working for a new organization, learning the boundaries, defining relationships and getting to know everyone. It turned out that one of the other Residential Assistants (or is it Advisors, I have seen it both ways) was also from Swarthmore. We didn’t know each other at the start, but quickly became close – having many common shared experiences from Swat.

A little over a week in, groups of students began exhibiting the signs of sickness, and the beginning of a Swine Flu epidemic swept through. By the end, nearly 20 per cent of the students were infected, and the decision was made to close the camp early. I spent most of the last few days spending long hours with the quarantined students. It was clear to me that the problem was a lack of nutritional food, that their bodies were starved for vegetables and other nourishment. I had been shopping at the local place and feeding myself healthy food like at home, and wasn’t worried about getting sick.

With the last student gone, it became a question of what now. Many of the staff had plane tickets for the following week. I organized a small trip, taking 6 staff members with me to Valencia where there is a beach and Paella. After the long sojourn with the sickness, both sounded wonderful. We arrived, ate, and drank for a few days.

More farewells to most, and then Shiva and I took off for Barcelona. We arrived on the train and moved into our hostel. It was 16 beds in one room. We quickly sought alternatives. We went to a place called Travel Bar, where we happened to find an email address on the wall for a private room in an apartment. We ended up spending a few nights with Karenina, a wonderful Italian woman who opened her home to us. She gave me the master bedroom after another guest didn’t leave as expected, and I had a beautiful view up and down the street. It was also a chance to do much needed laundry.

From Barcelona I flew to Palma Mallorca, and then traveled to Deia, a beautiful Spanish town in the Balearics. I went snorkeling, and did a mud treatment with locals on a small beach. I walked one day from Deia to Soller, taking in breathtaking view after breathtaking view. I left, and joined Shiva in Ibiza. Ibiza I didn’t sleep. I put my small bag in his friends’ hotel, and we went to a club. There were only six thousand others at the club, a slow night I think for them. When we left at 6am, I grabbed my stuff from the hotel, and caught a bus to Formentera. An island of beautiful beaches, I spent the day speeding around on my moped I rented, and snorkeling everywhere I could.

Back to Barcelona, and then I traveled on to Venice.

What a beautiful touristy city. At this point, the momentum in my trip was picking up. I walked each day for hours, exploring new little areas, visiting museums, and eating lots and lots of Pasta. From Venice, I moved on to Florence – a city where it’s hard not to look at art. I saw many of the great masterpieces I have seen so many times before in textbooks. I also met up with Peta, a friend I had made in Barcelona. We went for dinner and drinks, and she showed me good food and very filling Gnocchi!

On to Pisa, where a not so impressive leaning tower stood… leaning. I moved on quickly to Rome, where Karenina had helped me set up another apartment stay with Maurizio. He was a very kind economist, who opened his home to me. From there, I explored the city, immersing myself into the classical history. I was treated by the guide from the synagogue to lunch, and met many families and couples and other travelers and locals just sitting at the dinner table, offering some wine or conversation.

From Rome I flew to Athens. In Athens I paused only long enough to catch a boat. On the way to the docks, a group of people convinced me to go to Milos instead. Bad idea. I headed from Milos to Santorini, where I was impressed in a mediocre manner with the mountain houses. I met many Parisian couples and travelers, some of which I had a splendid time going out with. I also met a very interesting girl who I stayed out talking with late from Kenya / UK.

And then back to Athens, this time to spend a few days, and further immerse myself into classical culture. I met a bartender who offered to bring me out for a drink away from the center of Athens, and in the same night, two girls traveling – one of which knew a friend of mine from High School. We went out the next day for a lovely lunch before I boarded my plane to Istanbul.

Istanbul was incredible. A clean city, alive and vibrant, it is filled with families. I arrived on the first day of Ramadan, and so most of the city it felt like had come out to the park in front of the blue mosque to dine together and picnic. The food vendors were harking their wares and all was amazing. I tried Hamam in Istanbul (disappointing after Hamam in Morocco in my opinion) and ate more Baklava than one should eat in their lifetime.

Paula, my aunt, had sent me her friend’s address who owns a restaurant in Istanbul. To say I was treated like a king or sultan, would do him no justice. He extended the greatest of hospitality to me opening his doors wide and treating me to culinary magic.

And so ended the trip, as all things should, with a splendid meal (two actually). It has been an incredible and magical experience. I have met so many wonderful people that shaped my experiences, that nudged me to do and try things I wouldn’t have otherwise. The culmination of these experiences spells a complete and utter success. I could not imagine a better way to have spent this final summer before I begin working.

If you were one of those people, thank you.

Topkapi Palace and Ciya

After making a reservation for Ciya, I set out to spend the afternoon exploring. I decided to head to the Topkapi Palace. The amount of treasure there was incredible. Diamonds, Rubies, Emeralds, Diamonds with Emeralds around them Rubies with Diamonds around them. A sea of sparkling stones. And Gold. Lots of Gold. Although the real treasure was the beautiful architecture such as what was in the Harem (women's section) of the Palace. Beauty and Splendor, beds that were at least 15 feet wide, maybe even 20 feet. It was a setting of pure luxury, designed for relaxation and comfort. And the Sultan was the only man allowed. Except for eunuchs of course, but they were not considered men in the same sense having been physically altered.

After that I had the culinary treat of a lifetime. I had emailed my aunt Paula about Istanbul and she had responded with a suggestion of a restaurant, Ciya Sofrasi. It is run by a friend of hers, who is both owner and chef, and whose hospitality went above and beyond. To say I was treated like a sultan would not do him justice. Musa met me with open arms, and made sure that I would not leave hungry. He made sure that I tried everything. I have never had Kebab like this, and I don't think I will ever enjoy kebab again. In fact, I worry now that food will have no taste for me.

The culinary delights he put in front of me were wonderfully pleasing to all the senses.

We were joined by the manager of another of his restaurants who helped with some translation.

If you have never considered Tomato as an option for a dessert, then you haven't lived. I thought it tasted like the most delicious candy. What is it? I asked. Tomato I was told. My jaw probably bounced off the edge of the table.

Everything was wonderful, and after, we sat outside and watched the restaurants begin to shut down while drinking fresh tea. A perfect culinary experience to end my time in Morocco, and luckily not to late! They have invited me back for lunch tomorrow. Already, I am salivating over what treats are in store for then.

When I returned, the hotel manager was sitting outside with some of the other staff having tea and he invited me to join them. As the others slowly left to go home, we stayed and chatted about life in Turkey and various things. I was listening to a monologue on my ipod about how americans have trouble dealing with reality. A good example is not hard to come up with, but a great example can be more difficult. The example given I thought was perfect, with regard to the psychological damage done to soldiers during war. It began as shell shock, then the same condition was called Battle Fatigue, and more recently, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Slowly, the humanity was been taken out of it.

I talked about how I hate that Americans try to cloak things behind words, to hide the meanings, to remove all humanity from the description so as to remove the ability to relate to the events that are passing. I often prefer the blunt natural course of a frank conversation. We discussed how it could be a reflection of our society, and culture, among other things.

It was a fulfilling conversation that followed a filling meal, and thus the ending to a good day that mixed visiting and eating and talking.

I wonder what joys tomorrow shall bring?

Ahrida Synogogue

The problem with Jewish Musems is that they tend to focus on "these are what jews are" themes instead of Jewish History. But, I'l begin with the Ahrida Synogogue.

What a letdown. You arrive, and are rushed in. The email from the office of the head rabbinate told me to be there at exactly 10:30AM. I arrived at that time, showed my passport, and went in. There were some people leaving and it seemed like a tour, so I sat for a few minutes inside guessing that another tour for those of us set to come at 10:30 would begin shortly.

"It's finished!" the woman kept saying to me after a few minutes, trying to get me to leave. I was told to come at 10:30 I responded, and continued to sit and look around. It's not a particularly interesting synogogue, save the bema, which is shaped like a ship and supposedly done to either commemorate Noah and his Ark or the Jews leaving Spain and coming to Turkey via boats.

The rest is standard, benches, and some windows. So, it's the history that of course would make it come alive. It really needed some context in my opinion, having traveled all the way just for this.

She kepy shooing me out, and finally another guided tour that came in let me know that tours were given time slots, and that other groups would be arriving. My single presence would apparently disrupt, and I needed to leave.

I realized no questions would be answered, no information given, so I left, and got on a bus.

Oops! wrong bus, we crossed the Goldern Horn and I found myself quite closet to the Jewish Museum. As I was saying, the problem is that these are really designed for a goy, they talk about Jewish life like keeping kosher, and show a Menora. No ancient remnants of Jewish culture, like the dead sea scrolls. I guess you have to go to Israel for that.

I checked out the bookstore in the basement for a few minutes, then left, and walked back towards the spice bazaar. I had some minor purchases to make, some small things. Very small things in fact.

After, I stopped in at a Mosque for a few minutes of peaceful resting. I love the mosques, how they are open and inviting, with the big carpets. I feel bad after walking all day, sometimes I don't think my feet are that pleasant. I almost want to suggest for everyone's good that some people be able to keep their shoes on.

I rested, and then started to walk back - stopping to have some fresh orange juice along the way.

After getting back, I tried calling Ciya Sofrasi - the restaurant that my aunt, Paula Wolffert, suggested for me to go to, and to say hi to her friend the owner / chef. I finally got through which was great, and put in a reservation for tonight. It should be fun, the restaurants get lively in the evening because of Ramadan, everyone rushes in to eat after the call to prayer.

I had to speak with a couple people, but once I found someone, they were very warm, and told me where to come and when. 8PM I will be dining there this evening!

I was debating another Hamam this afternoon, but I think I don't have any skin to peel off yet - or at least not enough dead skin to make it worth going. Of course, I don't think they really got very deep yesterday, but it's more satisfying when you really exfoliate. I would bring my own k'iss though, which is a bit rougher - the one I bought (but never used, it was provided for) in Morocco.

A day that ended in Hamam

Today, I went on a Hamam. I won't talk about yesterday, we didn't see anything, or stay anywhere that we did see to appreciate anyway.

Before that, I went on a walk, I took the tram as far as I could, and then kept walking. I wanted to see a few palaces, and a former palace that was a hotel. I walked, and walked, and walked. I hadn'y seen anything in a while, when the four seasons popped up. I decided to stop in and ask the concierge, and inquire about the Hamam there. It's very interesting. I could rent the Hamam for 360 Turkish Lira for one hour, or do a treatment, which would include the Hamam, but was only 180. The reception looked at the numbers also somewhat confused. Basically, if you get a massage, it's cheaper and you still get the Hamam. But it's not what I am looking for. This is renting out the Hamam for single use. Perhaps the Sultan wanted that privacy, and the hotel was trying to convey that there, guests are like sultans, but in reality I see them as the centers of community (more so for women who otherwise in ancient times not as visible in public life). They are places to go and be with other people.

I opted instead to get some advice from the concierge on places to walk, and then headed to their amazing terrace for a calamari and to try turkish beer.

It was a lovely place to sit, and they really took care of me. I was right on the waters edge with a beautiful view of asia, and in the distance, the suspension bridge connecting the european and asian sides of Istanbul. The attentive manager noticed I was alone, and came over to offer me the herald tribune (ny times international edition) and gave me some olives as well. Once I had paid, I was thanked by name as I left by everyone from the manager to the bus person. It was very nice to be pampered - though I suppose you do pay for it in the rather pricey calamari, but it was pretty perfect I admit.

I continued, and stopped in at the Cirigan palace, which from the outside looks rather unassuming. The 25k Euro pricetag on the main suite though says a different story - one that is understood when you come into the lobby. It's stunning. just stunning. I went through and walked out to the pool, which sits just feet from the Bosphorus, then walked around the grounds a bit before continuing my walk.

Yaldiz, the park, was calm and quiet. I imagine you can see trends in a city's wealth and the amount of park space it has both in actual and relative amounts (percentage wise). Being a sunday, many couples were out enjoying the open air with picnics. Children ran about, and there was a beautiful fountain on the top by a cafe. It was simply picturesque. I walked down through some more neighborhoods, but most of it was closed, and came across the W hotel, where I stopped to ask for directions to Taksim square (think Bloody Sunday). It sounded complicated, they recommended a cab, I asked how much. 5 Lira. Sounds good, and I am glad. It was over a hill that would have been unpleasant to walk, not much of a sidewalk. I tried before though to check out the rooftop bar for a tea, but it was very overpriced (25 Lira cocktails) and only a view of the back of the surrounding buildings. The bartender was a rather pushy woman as well in terms of sitting and ordering. I politely declined, and left for Taksim.

Meandered the square, and then decided it was time for baklava. It's a personal rule here for me not to go more than 18 hours without Baklava, and that is the extreme, I prefer the 6 hours of waking time. It's just so good. I went for the whole plate option at a little cafe, and then meandered to the train station. I saw the Tower of Galatar (spelling?) but decided it wasn't worth waiting to just climb up and down it, having already had some spectacular city views. I do want to see the city at night, perhaps tomorrow I can arrange something.

Tram back to the hotel.

Then it was time for Hamam.

They were having trouble with the credit card machine, I would prefer to use my Amex I explained - I have been getting better rates in exchange with them (I also like my points, which are maybe a penny on the dollar, but personally very fulfilling to watch grow towards a plane ticket or something else). No luck, finally, after multiple tries, they gave up, and we used my visa to pay. They felt bad, and gave me a free facial in addition to the treatment - I went for the scrub, wash, and shampoo.

It was good, but to tender. I had promised to write Susannah afterwards. I told her that I preferred Morocco in my email, except that here there was a giant circle of marble where everyone was at the same time. No separate sauna / steam room type deal or bath. You layed on the hot marble slab, sweated, and went to the sides to pour some water. When your body was perspiring enough, the man came and scrubbed you down. But not hard enough. I could have exfoliated many times more. Then washed, then shampooed in another room. Facial was also in another room. After, I went back and spent another 45 minutes or so enjoying the heat and letting my body perspire some more before showering, and heading upstairs to sleep for a while.

A cup of tea, and I left having completed my first Turkish Hamam experience.

I think I will continue the resting in my own bed, until tomorrow morning when I have an exciting opportunity to see the Ahrida synogogue at 10:30AM.

No Post for my first day in Istanbul

Despite having a working computer, and time, I didn't post yesterday. It was a concious decision. I was very angry (think Edward in Pretty Woman, "I'm very angry..." and sans thousands in therapy to get there, just one troubling experience) with the my decision to go on the tour, the tour itself and the hotel for recommending it. I think the letter I wrote in my fury which I am posting below elaborates. It's not exactly finished material, thorough, or fluid. It's just raw, a pouring of emotions onto paper (well, keyboard). It's not really directed at anyone either, more just the world - well that world which encompasses the hotel, tour, and a little bit of myself:

To whom it may concern:

Upon arriving at the Hotel Kupili, it was suggested with great earnest that I take a tour of the city the following day in order to get a feel for Istanbul, which is a large city spread over two continents. To say that the experience was disappointing is an understatement. Additionally, it was aggravating and I found it to be insulting as well.

To begin, there was a series of misinformation. The fine print seems to be that the places listed are mostly not visited, rather, they are seen from the boat. But, I will begin with the first grievance, that this would give me a feel for Istanbul. How going to a spice market, and then taken to a rug store (which no one wanted to go into, we were told it was a museum of Turkish rugs – not a store), is a good way to discover the city. Especially when your guide makes it difficult to ask questions, and only words coming from him are the occasional naming of a building. There is no context to which our understanding is placed. We were not guided, but rather, shepherded like sheep. Having spoken extensively with Souks in Morocco, I am aware of how the system of commissions works. If I arrive alone, there is a price. But, if I arrive with a guide, then there is a different price because a commission must be paid to the guide. Bringing us to a rug store is not even about our experience, it is solely about commission. Otherwise, the rugs might have received an introduction, or given some historical context. I am fine with a visit to such a place, if it is meant to explain the significance of the Turkish Rug, and not just to sell me something to fill the guides pockets. I inquired prior to signing up if this was an English tour. Yes, I was told. I had an easier time understanding the Spanish guide. I chose an “English” tour in hopes of meeting some fellow travelers who I could share my experience with here. I was specific in my question whether it was all in English, and was lied to outright that it was. The few times the guide was speaking, it was only a third in English. Most of the remaining time he spent talking in Turkish with the driver, or at sites, wandering off and only reappearing when it was time to go leaving no time or opportunity for questions, were he even willing to answer them without being condescending. On the boat tour, which was a complete waste of time as nothing was explained except the occasional naming of a building and year of construction, he sat in another room and used a microphone. The combination of accent and poor sound system made it impossible to hear him anyway.

Other such things like visiting the Harem simply didn’t happen. It was made clear that the palace was a three unit piece, and yet, we only saw one small section, and none of the museums on the grounds. We were rushed through, running at some points. It was insulting.

Lunch was abysmal. If this is what the hotel staff by recommending and the tour company by providing believes is a good representation of Turkish food, then I am sorry. In addition, staff were rude, and generally unpleasant, especially if you weren’t interested in ordering a beverage. On the note of rudeness, when I attempted to pay with my American Express card, one of the options clearly printed on the brochure, I was hassled by multiple people first claiming that the machine is broken, among other issues. Then they kept asking me if I could use other cards, why I didn’t have other cards.

Finally, when we were returning, I had to fight in order to be dropped off at my hotel. I didn’t want to go to the grand Bazaar. They insisted it was a short walk, and I needed to continue to say that I wanted to be dropped at my hotel. It was clearly stated that hotel transfers were provided.

The experiences I had today have left me questioning how much the staff of the agency and hotel truly values my time. If they do not respect my time in sending me on such a disgusting, insulting and aggravating waste of time, I struggle to see how I can respect their time. The product was less than satisfactory, and has had a major negative impact on my experience here. It has cost me the most valuable commodity that I have at the moment: time. I hope that my faith in both organizations can be restored.

Sincerely,

Jonathan

Athens to Istanbul

I went to bed last night around 5:30 AM. Vasianna, a bartender I met while having lunch, had taken me out and then I was online for a while after that doing some things, including a blog entry. Four years of Engineering allowed me to easily arise early, around 9 AM. only a few hours following my sleep. All those 8:30 AM classes paid off in more ways than expected in the long run. I did some packing, and luckily, my stuff had dried. The air conditioner during the day had leaked water all over some things, and I was worried about packing wet clothes. Crisis averted, except for a few socks and smaller items. It did make the room a lot less dry though, which was nice.

I got up early, with nothing in particular to do, moved my stuff down to the left storage and spent a few hours doing some research for Istanbul, checking flights and just relaxing. I also read a little of Plato's Phaedrus. The book I have been slowly digesting, The Spell of the Sensuous (David Abram), has been discussing it, and I happened to find a copy in the little library at the Tempi Hotel (which I highly recommend for location, just ask to be on a low floor)! It's approximately 95 steps up to the fifth floor from the reception which is already up a flight of stiars, and while my leg muscles look great, and it kept me from coming back to often without good reasons, it was a long way up and down each time I had a question about the internet or something else.

Alice joined me as well, and I related to her the epic that happened on her floor which I heard while hiking up to my room. We laughed, shared more stories of traveling, and talked for a while. I asked if she and Amy wanted to do lunch later - and we agreed on something light. Around 1:30PM, I was starving, and we decided to go. Amy wasn't up, so we set off to find a Taverna or something simple. We ended up spending the afternoon over traditional greek fare (I had the moussaka, she had the greek salad and we split a bottle of white Santorini wine) continuing our conversation of places we've been, and want to go, sharing stories of family and friends. It was really lovely, such that I lost track of time. We had to run back to the hotel, where I had them call me a cab, said good bye to Alice and Amy, and headed to the airport. Had the plane not been late, I should have known I could count on that, it would have been very close. I had a tax free item to be stamped, and my boarding pass to print. It was mayhem in the Olympic airways line. I finally got up there, picked my seat, and then headed to customs, and passport control. I had to explain that I was traveling from the EU and hence didn't have an entrance stamp, and finally got to the waiting area.

I ended up sitting next to two women from Australia, one was a web designer, the other I never caught her profession - but they said they worked together, so I imagine also in technology in some aspect. I was apparently asleep for take off, and woke up half way into the short flight. We left a half hour late, still managed to arrive only a few minutes late, and it was only a 55 minute flight. I am rather impressed. I wonder if being late is just built into the flight plan.

The women had just done a european sprint tour over a course of a month, hitting spain, france, UK, Greece, and Turkey. One was headed home, the other to Iraq. She was telling me about blood tests to cross the border. I don't like needles, neither does she.

After we landed, I found my bags, and the airport pickup sent from the hote quite quickly, changed money, and departed for the hotel. It was very nice and leisurely. When I arrived, they had someone come help with the bags, and some tea for me while I checked in. They offered some suggestions for tomorrow, and I found a tour that would give me a basic layout of the city. I already set up a tour of the Synogogue for Monday, and have to arrange a trip across for dinner or lunch at Paula's suggestion at a place her friend owns.

After putting my stuff into my room, I returned to the lobby and headed out. It is the first night of Ramadan, and it felt like the whole city was out. Of course, I have no baseline - but there was a vibrant feeling in the air, like the city itself was alive. I started with some Baklava. Amazing. Kebab. Not so amazing. Corn. Eh... another sweet thing, Amazing, Fresh Orange Juice - Yummy! I am afraid the food is going to be the death of me here, I might have to request a second seat on the airline. It's all so good. I can't wait to see more tomorrow.

Riads, Train Tickets and Ferries

I had a great conversation with Nabil Kahn last night regarding Morocco - what to do, where to go, who to meet up with. Lots of very useful information, I only wish that he could join me for this adventure. I also contacted a fulbright(er) and heard back where they will be while I am in the region. I am hoping to cross paths while there and see another side of the country that otherwise might have remained hidden from an english speaking short term travel.

Where to stay is the big question. I have looked into hostels, hotels and riads. While the latter portion of my journey I plan to be more free, I am constrained in time with Morocco and so I am trying to get the most out of it. Riads look amazing, and expensive. If anyone has suggestions, please send them along.

Fes and Marrakesh are both on the list, but I also want to see a smaller town, that hasn't been as over run with tourists. There is a musical festival I learned from writing to SG in Essaouira next weekend that she and another college friend will be attending. Would be fun to catch up with them there, experience that and see a smaller town.

As for getting to Madrid, I had the amex concierge look into things. For the first time, in a long time, they gave me reliable and useful information regarding the ferries and trains. They strategically planned a few different options for me to arrive in time for program and site orientation, maximizing my time on the other side of the Strait of Gibralter.

Meanwhile, looking ahead I emailed my aunt, who is known for writing cookbooks in the Mediterranean region, about things that I must do / places that I must visit during my travels. Reading through the introductions of her books, especially the one on Couscous, is the underlying reason I had the strong urges to include Morocco in my travels and booked my flight to spain through North Africa.

She suggested lonely planet as a jumping off point, and then sent me an article on a place to eat in Istanbul. The title alone was mouth watering, Çiya: Loquat Kebabs and Mesopotamian Truffles at Istanbul’s Culinary Shrine, and I realize already this trip is going to have a sweet and delectable ending.