Today was another lovely day, so we decided to try to get to the Kuş Cenneti, the bird sanctuary (bird paradise, literally) on the other side of the harbour. We hopped onto the bus that the web site said would take us to a place where we could get another bus that would go fairly close.
We rode from one end of the bus line to the other - about 45 minutes - through parts of the city that have become fairly familiar by now into the definitely upscale suburbs across the bay. I'd never been so far west in this area; Ron used to teach English at a car parts plant near the end of the line, but he'd always been driven there by one of the students, usually in the dark, so it was all new to him, too. We passed blocks and blocks of new highrise apartment buildings, most of them finished. We even saw some townhouse developments built in an Ottoman-revival style, like Victorian-style townhouses you'd see in Toronto suburbs.
The bus route ended at a huge new shopping centre out in the middle of a field that would soon be more apartments. No sign of a bird paradise there! The bus driver asked where we wanted to go, and we told him, and he responded with the fastest Turkish we'd ever heard. It seemed to boil down to "You can't get there from here".
Okay, so we went shopping. Got a new toaster at a sort of two-storey Canadian Tire that had signs all over the place saying "You can't get this any cheaper anywhere". Trouble was, we knew we could get most of it for about half the price from the sidewalk vendors near home. We did see some really wonderful mosaics that we could imagine in Ron's brother Earl's front hall - just beautiful! - but we couldn't imagine how to carry all 100 kg or so home on the plane. If we can find a way, get ready to tear up your floor, Earl.
So we wandered around the shopping centre feeling quite uncertain which part of the universe we were in. It could have been Calgary or Vancouver or Toronto, but the food court had kebap joints and there was a traditional Turkish toilet in the washroom (as well as a couple of less traditional ones) with a lineup to use it. No doubt about which country we were in at the supermarket, though; the shopping cart drivers were unmistakeably Turkish.
I didn't like the place. There was so much fuss about security - I set off the alarm leaving the store with the (paid-for) toaster and thought I was going to be shot. Nobody seemed to enjoy working there. There was no life in the place. It felt so good to get back to our home neighborhood where our veggie sellers don't mind giving us free Turkish lessons and people take the time to enjoy themselves and each other. The suburbs are definitely not to our taste.
Someday soon we must rent a car and get out to the Kuş Cenneti before someone notices that there might be a problem with bird flu and closes the place. The brief glimpse I got of a couple of Dalmatian Pelicans last month from a harbour ferry just whetted my apetite, and I want to see the flamingos.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Monday, February 20, 2006
It's spring
While our poor friends in North America are reeling under winter's blows, we're finally coming out of the dark, cold tunnel and emerging into warmth and sunshine. What do you do in the spring? Play with water, of course. A nice warm (18C) day is a good excuse to wash the terraces and bask in the sun.
In the shadows in behind Ron there's a cherry tree (I think) just starting to bloom.
In the shadows in behind Ron there's a cherry tree (I think) just starting to bloom.
Good things can happen on buses
We get around in Izmir mostly by city bus or metro. We're fortunate that we live a couple of blocks from the south end of the metro (subway) line, so we can get a few places downtown quickly and easily, or go all the way out to Bornova at the north end of the line in 20 minutes. But the church is a fair way from a metro station, so I end up taking the bus quite a lot. And that's almost always an adventure.
Izmir has an odd fleet of buses. I suspect they're hand-me-downs from other cities. Downtown there are a few red double-decker buses that look like they came straight from London. Most of the buses out our way are long, articulated things. They're far too long for Izmir's crowded streets. It's not unusual for one to end up stuck in an intersection when the light changes - although red lights seem to provide no good reason to stop for our intrepid drivers. Only once have I been on a bus involved in an accident, though, and that was clearly the other driver's fault: he opened the door of his parked car right into the path of the oncoming bus. I wish my Turkish had been better then - I might have learned a lot of useful words.
The buses are heavily used and usually packed. We often have to stand - although young men and sometimes women give me their seats more often than not. I didn't think I looked that old. Is it because of my age or because I'm a tourist? Anyway, it's very kind.
Standing can be quite an adventure. The drivers are erratic at best - they take off from a stop like Indy drivers, pedal to the metal and God help anyone not hanging on. Then more than likely they have to jam on the brakes. Good thing people are usually packed in - we hold each other up. I've been caught by helpful people, and I've done my share of catching too.
People are much less shy about touching here than in cold Anglo-Saxon Canada. The other day I was sitting with an empty seat beside me, and an elderly lady (probably all of 65) was about to sit in it when the bus started up with its usual energy. I grabbed hold of her hand and helped her get into the seat, and instead of pulling it away in embarrassment as I probably would have done she gave my hand an extra squeeze as she thanked me. That was nice.
Another time I was sitting up front where I could watch people getting on. We pay the bus fare using a card read by a machine beside the driver. (It's a most useful card - you can get into most things run by the city with it.) A successful transaction gets one beep, but if you don't have enough money in your card (you can refill them at most corner stores) you get three beeps. An elderly lady got three beeps, tried again, got three beeps again, and just kept on going. The driver didn't say anything then (a young guy would have been out on the street pretty quickly), but a few stops later, when the lady showed no sign of coming up with the money, he turned around and said something like "Ablacım, are you going to pay me?"
The thing that got me was the word Ablacım. Abla means "older sister", and it's a nice way of addressing a woman who's probably a little older than you, or whom you respect. The ending -cım means "my dear". So he called this troublesome old lady "my dear older sister". I could forgive him a lot of rough starts and stops for that.
Before the old lady could come up with the money someone else came and paid her fare.
That's why I like Turkey.
Izmir has an odd fleet of buses. I suspect they're hand-me-downs from other cities. Downtown there are a few red double-decker buses that look like they came straight from London. Most of the buses out our way are long, articulated things. They're far too long for Izmir's crowded streets. It's not unusual for one to end up stuck in an intersection when the light changes - although red lights seem to provide no good reason to stop for our intrepid drivers. Only once have I been on a bus involved in an accident, though, and that was clearly the other driver's fault: he opened the door of his parked car right into the path of the oncoming bus. I wish my Turkish had been better then - I might have learned a lot of useful words.
The buses are heavily used and usually packed. We often have to stand - although young men and sometimes women give me their seats more often than not. I didn't think I looked that old. Is it because of my age or because I'm a tourist? Anyway, it's very kind.
Standing can be quite an adventure. The drivers are erratic at best - they take off from a stop like Indy drivers, pedal to the metal and God help anyone not hanging on. Then more than likely they have to jam on the brakes. Good thing people are usually packed in - we hold each other up. I've been caught by helpful people, and I've done my share of catching too.
People are much less shy about touching here than in cold Anglo-Saxon Canada. The other day I was sitting with an empty seat beside me, and an elderly lady (probably all of 65) was about to sit in it when the bus started up with its usual energy. I grabbed hold of her hand and helped her get into the seat, and instead of pulling it away in embarrassment as I probably would have done she gave my hand an extra squeeze as she thanked me. That was nice.
Another time I was sitting up front where I could watch people getting on. We pay the bus fare using a card read by a machine beside the driver. (It's a most useful card - you can get into most things run by the city with it.) A successful transaction gets one beep, but if you don't have enough money in your card (you can refill them at most corner stores) you get three beeps. An elderly lady got three beeps, tried again, got three beeps again, and just kept on going. The driver didn't say anything then (a young guy would have been out on the street pretty quickly), but a few stops later, when the lady showed no sign of coming up with the money, he turned around and said something like "Ablacım, are you going to pay me?"
The thing that got me was the word Ablacım. Abla means "older sister", and it's a nice way of addressing a woman who's probably a little older than you, or whom you respect. The ending -cım means "my dear". So he called this troublesome old lady "my dear older sister". I could forgive him a lot of rough starts and stops for that.
Before the old lady could come up with the money someone else came and paid her fare.
That's why I like Turkey.
Monday, February 13, 2006
Bebek lives
We thought when we left for Italy there'd be no Bebek when we got back. But there he was, still sick but very glad to see me. So glad, in fact, that he insisted on being picked up and cuddled. Now when I call the cats for their treats he wants to be patted before he'll eat. He loves my woolly sweater. He's a little stinky - after all, his natural habitat is the garbage bins - but he purrs very nicely.
Noah's pudding
Semiha arrived today with some aşura, a dessert made once a year during this (lunar) month. It's made from wheat, barley, beans, chickpeas, rice, figs, raisins, apricots, apples, orange peel, and lots of sugar. Amazing! It's supposed to be what Noah and the animals ended up eating on the ark. Lucky critters.
The oranges are still good, although a little less beautiful and full of seeds.
The oranges are still good, although a little less beautiful and full of seeds.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Quiet day at the church
So what else is new, you might ask. Normally I wouldn't even bother mentioning church - you'll all assume I was there and did something if possible, and what's so special about that?
Only just now the Muslim world is all in a flap about some really stupid cartoons published in Denmark several months back. It looks like it's a convenient issue to distract people in countries like Egypt, where otherwise the government might have some hard questions to answer about sinking ferries and elections and things, and Syria, where they're always looking for something to distract the populace.
And the fuss is spreading. There was a Roman Catholic priest murdered in Trabzon, on the Black Sea, a week ago. It might have been over the cartoons (the kid who's said to have done it shouted "God is great" before shooting), or it might have been arranged by the local Mafia under the cover of the cartoon flap - the priest in question was working with Russian and Georgian women enslaved by the Mafia.
And we had a small incident involving a Roman Catholic priest in this area.
So we were a little nervous. St. John's is the only church in the area not enclosed by a wall. We're right out in the open, on a busy corner. Everyone knows where it is. And it's next door to the British consulate, so if someone has an issue with England we have in the past been targetted. The armed guards looking after the consulate are supposed to keep an eye on us, too, but they're very fond of their tea and chatting with the drivers at the taxi stand next door.
But we worshipped as usual, and our doors were open to everyone. We even had a couple of young Turkish men we didn't know. They were received hospitably, as usual, shown around and given an explanation of the service. They sat quietly and watched carefully. I celebrated and Fr. Ron preached. And it was very quiet and very good.
So if you'd had any worries about us, put them to rest for this week at least. Everything's fine. One of the nice things about our neighbourhood, too, is that everyone knows us and watches out for us. If we'd chosen to live in the usual tourist areas I think we might even have been in a bit of danger, but here they know we're harmless and just want to live peacefully.
Of course, so do 99.999% of the rest of the human race.
Only just now the Muslim world is all in a flap about some really stupid cartoons published in Denmark several months back. It looks like it's a convenient issue to distract people in countries like Egypt, where otherwise the government might have some hard questions to answer about sinking ferries and elections and things, and Syria, where they're always looking for something to distract the populace.
And the fuss is spreading. There was a Roman Catholic priest murdered in Trabzon, on the Black Sea, a week ago. It might have been over the cartoons (the kid who's said to have done it shouted "God is great" before shooting), or it might have been arranged by the local Mafia under the cover of the cartoon flap - the priest in question was working with Russian and Georgian women enslaved by the Mafia.
And we had a small incident involving a Roman Catholic priest in this area.
So we were a little nervous. St. John's is the only church in the area not enclosed by a wall. We're right out in the open, on a busy corner. Everyone knows where it is. And it's next door to the British consulate, so if someone has an issue with England we have in the past been targetted. The armed guards looking after the consulate are supposed to keep an eye on us, too, but they're very fond of their tea and chatting with the drivers at the taxi stand next door.
But we worshipped as usual, and our doors were open to everyone. We even had a couple of young Turkish men we didn't know. They were received hospitably, as usual, shown around and given an explanation of the service. They sat quietly and watched carefully. I celebrated and Fr. Ron preached. And it was very quiet and very good.
So if you'd had any worries about us, put them to rest for this week at least. Everything's fine. One of the nice things about our neighbourhood, too, is that everyone knows us and watches out for us. If we'd chosen to live in the usual tourist areas I think we might even have been in a bit of danger, but here they know we're harmless and just want to live peacefully.
Of course, so do 99.999% of the rest of the human race.
Saturday, February 11, 2006
A whirlwind visit to Italy
We spent last weekend in Italy. What a luxury, to be able to just jump on a plane and in a couple of hours be in Rome!
Both of us have wanted to see Pompeii for a long time - me, since I was 6 and saw a National Geographic picture of a plaster cast of one of the bodies; Ron since we listened together to the audiobook of Richard Harris's Pompeii. So that was what we did.
We landed in Rome around noon on Thursday, Feb. 2, and took the train from the airport to the central train station. We wandered around a bit by metro and foot that afternoon - saw an unexpected pyramid, the Circus Maximus and the Colosseum - then went to Naples by high-speed train.
Friday morning we were picked up at our hotel by a guide and joined an agreeable German mother-son pair to do the sights - Vesuvius in the morning, Pompeii in the afternoon. Whew! But it was the best time of the year to do it, we learned. Once the high tourist season begins you can hardly move in both places for the crowds. We were among a dozen or so people - who in their right mind would tour Italy in February?
Next morning back onto the train to Rome. We checked into our hotel next to the Vatican (we could see the top of the dome of St. Peter's from the bathroom window) and headed off to do the tourist thing there. We were too late for the Sistine Chapel, but we got into St. Peter's. It had its holy spots - the Pieta was wonderful - but there were an awful lot of monuments to fat and power-hungry popes. There was so much of what I don't like about the Church in the air that I found it hard to find God there. Still, the place has been polished by prayer and it shows in places.
And the next morning it was back to the airport by city bus (the best way to see a city) and train, and home again. We can't really say we've seen Italy, but at least we've breathed the air and picked up a couple of stones from Vesuvius.
That's it as far as travels go for this month, I think. Next month we need to renew our visas so we'll do Athens quickly; then we'll go to Cappadocia to see the solar eclipse, and finally we'll spend a week or so in Spain. Then it will be getting on for time to start shipping things home. We haven't even got a Turkish carpet yet!
Both of us have wanted to see Pompeii for a long time - me, since I was 6 and saw a National Geographic picture of a plaster cast of one of the bodies; Ron since we listened together to the audiobook of Richard Harris's Pompeii. So that was what we did.
We landed in Rome around noon on Thursday, Feb. 2, and took the train from the airport to the central train station. We wandered around a bit by metro and foot that afternoon - saw an unexpected pyramid, the Circus Maximus and the Colosseum - then went to Naples by high-speed train.
Friday morning we were picked up at our hotel by a guide and joined an agreeable German mother-son pair to do the sights - Vesuvius in the morning, Pompeii in the afternoon. Whew! But it was the best time of the year to do it, we learned. Once the high tourist season begins you can hardly move in both places for the crowds. We were among a dozen or so people - who in their right mind would tour Italy in February?
Next morning back onto the train to Rome. We checked into our hotel next to the Vatican (we could see the top of the dome of St. Peter's from the bathroom window) and headed off to do the tourist thing there. We were too late for the Sistine Chapel, but we got into St. Peter's. It had its holy spots - the Pieta was wonderful - but there were an awful lot of monuments to fat and power-hungry popes. There was so much of what I don't like about the Church in the air that I found it hard to find God there. Still, the place has been polished by prayer and it shows in places.
And the next morning it was back to the airport by city bus (the best way to see a city) and train, and home again. We can't really say we've seen Italy, but at least we've breathed the air and picked up a couple of stones from Vesuvius.
That's it as far as travels go for this month, I think. Next month we need to renew our visas so we'll do Athens quickly; then we'll go to Cappadocia to see the solar eclipse, and finally we'll spend a week or so in Spain. Then it will be getting on for time to start shipping things home. We haven't even got a Turkish carpet yet!
Friday, February 10, 2006
Gems from Aljazeera
I know I need to bring you up to date on our flying visit to Italy. But before that I have to alert you to these three fascinating articles.
First a serious one: Bottled water taxing Earth. Why don't we reuse water bottles?
And another: Iraqi homes show US how to build. I wish the Turks would remember how they used to build.
But this one is priceless:Gay penguins shun Swedish mates. Sample quote:
In a statement posted on its internet website, the zoo on Wednesday sought to defend itself from fresh criticism.
The statement said: "We will be delighted if the penguins form even one heterosexual couple and manage to produce first an egg, and then a little one.
"But of course we accept the male couples that have formed and we are not trying to enforce heterosexuality, as we were accused of doing last year."
First a serious one: Bottled water taxing Earth. Why don't we reuse water bottles?
And another: Iraqi homes show US how to build. I wish the Turks would remember how they used to build.
But this one is priceless:Gay penguins shun Swedish mates. Sample quote:
In a statement posted on its internet website, the zoo on Wednesday sought to defend itself from fresh criticism.
The statement said: "We will be delighted if the penguins form even one heterosexual couple and manage to produce first an egg, and then a little one.
"But of course we accept the male couples that have formed and we are not trying to enforce heterosexuality, as we were accused of doing last year."
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
A Walk in the Neighbourhood
The last few weeks we've been hibernating, emerging from our chilly den only when absolutely necessary for work or shopping. Today was finally a little warmer, with temperatures in the low teens, and I felt like a walk.
Some time ago we heard that there was some Roman pavement visible where the Sunday and Wednesday market happens not far from us. I saw on the map at the Agora that the Roman city's southern gate, the Ephesus gate, was somewhere close to us. So I decided to head that way, hoping to catch the Wednesday market as well.
The market was finished, but the pavement was there.
These large stones may be the remains of the road leading to the Ephesus gate of the old city.
Note the chickens. They're all over town in the less affluent areas. These are the closest to our house I know about. If Turkey tries to control chicken flu by eliminating flock they're going to have a real challenge.
Anyway... I found the pavement. And it struck me that there's probably always been a market there, since there were town walls and long after. Thousands of years people have been selling things on that spot.
It also struck me that the part of town we live in, the old Jewish quarter (where some of my Jewish relatives fled when the Spanish suffered an attack of insanity and threw them out), was outside the wall when there were still walls. We're in the ancient suburbs.
So I walked some more and saw these flowers,Some flowers think Izmir's cold season is the ideal time for blooming. Flowers like these have been around for a couple of weeks. They're just the same as the ones that are blooming in the courtyard next to us. These are blooming in the middle of the main street (Inönü Caddesi) near us.
I discovered a mother-daughter pair of cats peering our from underneath a corrugated roof at me. You can tell it's an old house from the bricks used in its construction. Most modern Turkish houses are built on hollow bricks covered with cement. This house, and many of the ones in our district, is built of solid bricks. It probably dates from before the destruction of Izmir in 1922 at the end of the war with Greece.
Back at home, I fed my cats. I have quite a little family now. There's beautiful grey-tabby MomKat and her surviving son, Bebek; black-and-white MomKat2 and her surviving daughter Karaburun (Blacknose), and a new young tom who's so pretty I thought he was female. He's even clean, and he's very smart. Bebek's mom seems to be thinking he'd make a suitable father for her next kittens, but he's not interested yet. He's still too young, I think.
I'm afraid my little Bebek is not long for this world. He has an infected eye, a big bald patch on his hind quarters, and he's sneezing and shaking. He's not very hungry, but when I hold food out for him he takes it and purrs. He still won't let me pat him, but he wants to be close to me. I've never seen feline distemper, but it sure looks like something serious to me. I wonder if he'll be around when I look for him next?
We're taking off again for a few days. This time we're going to Italy - Pompeii and Rome. Ron has a couple of days without teaching, so we're going to take the chance to try to find someplace warmer and less smoky. He has a terrible cough. And we both really want to see Pompeii.
So next time I'll have something about yet another country.
Some time ago we heard that there was some Roman pavement visible where the Sunday and Wednesday market happens not far from us. I saw on the map at the Agora that the Roman city's southern gate, the Ephesus gate, was somewhere close to us. So I decided to head that way, hoping to catch the Wednesday market as well.
The market was finished, but the pavement was there.
These large stones may be the remains of the road leading to the Ephesus gate of the old city.
Note the chickens. They're all over town in the less affluent areas. These are the closest to our house I know about. If Turkey tries to control chicken flu by eliminating flock they're going to have a real challenge.
Anyway... I found the pavement. And it struck me that there's probably always been a market there, since there were town walls and long after. Thousands of years people have been selling things on that spot.
It also struck me that the part of town we live in, the old Jewish quarter (where some of my Jewish relatives fled when the Spanish suffered an attack of insanity and threw them out), was outside the wall when there were still walls. We're in the ancient suburbs.
So I walked some more and saw these flowers,Some flowers think Izmir's cold season is the ideal time for blooming. Flowers like these have been around for a couple of weeks. They're just the same as the ones that are blooming in the courtyard next to us. These are blooming in the middle of the main street (Inönü Caddesi) near us.
I discovered a mother-daughter pair of cats peering our from underneath a corrugated roof at me. You can tell it's an old house from the bricks used in its construction. Most modern Turkish houses are built on hollow bricks covered with cement. This house, and many of the ones in our district, is built of solid bricks. It probably dates from before the destruction of Izmir in 1922 at the end of the war with Greece.
Back at home, I fed my cats. I have quite a little family now. There's beautiful grey-tabby MomKat and her surviving son, Bebek; black-and-white MomKat2 and her surviving daughter Karaburun (Blacknose), and a new young tom who's so pretty I thought he was female. He's even clean, and he's very smart. Bebek's mom seems to be thinking he'd make a suitable father for her next kittens, but he's not interested yet. He's still too young, I think.
I'm afraid my little Bebek is not long for this world. He has an infected eye, a big bald patch on his hind quarters, and he's sneezing and shaking. He's not very hungry, but when I hold food out for him he takes it and purrs. He still won't let me pat him, but he wants to be close to me. I've never seen feline distemper, but it sure looks like something serious to me. I wonder if he'll be around when I look for him next?
We're taking off again for a few days. This time we're going to Italy - Pompeii and Rome. Ron has a couple of days without teaching, so we're going to take the chance to try to find someplace warmer and less smoky. He has a terrible cough. And we both really want to see Pompeii.
So next time I'll have something about yet another country.
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