Review of Turkey, and beginning of Greece

Hello friends and family!

Shwew--- I finally figured out how to get on my blog! I couldn't remember my password, and it's been like pulling teeth trying to figure out how to access my blog.

This is my journal entry after we left Turkey--- hope you enjoy it!

5/8 2:30 pm the port of Samos, on the Aegean.

Right now I'm sitting on the sidewalk in Samos, two feet away from the waters of the Aegean. If I scooted a little closer, I could put my feet in the water. The sun is high overhead; it is warm and very comfortable. A light breeze is coming off the water, which sometimes makes it chilly enough for a light jacket - but as soon as the jacket is on, the sun warms me again, and I have to return to bare shoulders. Pigeons are strutting and cooing all around me; my nose has finally accustomed itself to the smell of rotting fish from the tiny, colorful fishing boats. When the breeze comes, I hardly smell it at all anymore.

Samos looks like a postcard. When you see postcards of American coasts, it's hit or miss whether the city really looks that way. Not so here. The sea is blue, the homes are all white or a bright pastel, and the roods are a faded brick red. The sky is a bright cornflower blue. Greek postcards do not lie: false advertising isn't a concept in the Greek tourist industry.

Samos is only the beginning of Greece - but still I feel as though I'm not done with Turkey. I have t stop myself from saying "Merhaba!" (hello) or Tesekkur ederim (thank you). Turkish - well, the few phrases I know - was starting to become natural. I think I got the accent down, too, because several Turks asked me if I was Turkish, too.

Turkey is a country of breathtaking beauty and startling antiquity. I feel stupid and lazy for having been so ignorant of it. I very much want to return and experience the people and the culture. The ruins were magnificent, but the best experience I had in Turkey was sitting at a plastic table on the patio of a family owned restaurant in Kusadasi, watching the four-year-old son run around yelling "best kebab!" and tormenting his sister with farting sounds made by squeezing the air out of a white balloon. Little boys will be little boys, no matter where you go.

While I was in Turkey, I:
(1) listened to lectures and took notes in the Pergamum gymnasium; the necropolis (City of the Dead) of Hierapolis; the theatre of Miletus; the church of Priene; and the ruins of Ephesus, overlooking the temple of Artemis and the bouleterion.
(2) Heard:

"Blue eyes tell no lies. Blue eyes take me to Paradise," from a street peddler in the market outside Ephesus.

"You are a Turkish delight."----street peddlers are relentless.

and

"If you break the heart of a friend, it doesn't matter hwo much you pray." from Yildirim, our tour guide.

(3) Fell in love with Yildirim, who invented a new slang phrase:
"You're dragging my leg." (he got "pulling my leg" a little bit wrong.... and now we've been saying "you're dragging my leg" ever since we left Turkey)

(4) Listened to countless muezzins (prayer callers) fill the air with praise to God, calling the faithful to prayer.

(5) Visited the cave of St. Paul, an archaeological site in the hills overlooking ancient Ephesus, which is barred to the public. We got special permission to visit. The walls of the cave are covered with 2nd century paintings of Paul, Thecla (a female follower of Paul), Thecla's mother, and the 11 disciples. I can't describe the feeling I had in the cave....

(6) I ordered food in Turkish and was asked if I was Turkish

(7) touched the grafitti menorah on the steps of the Library of Celsus in Ephesus

(8) stood on several peaks, and tried to take in the magnificence of each panoramic view (Turkey is incredible)

(9) marveled at Turkey's mountainous topography

(10) made the theatre of Miletus my playground, jumping like a goat (to quote Yildirim) from step to step, boulder to boulder. I ran through the archways, sped up the stairs, stood atop the ancient Byzantine fortress. I loved the boundless energy that pushed my forward, the excitement that kept me going. I felt like a kid and like an explorer and knew that I woould always be happy because of God, nature, and me.

(11) Wondered about the lives of the shopkeepers, street peddlers, and wandering violinists. How did they live? Did they eat enough? Could they do anything other than sell long-stem roses, laser pointers, and baked goods? Did they ever sell any at all, and what would happen to them if they didn't make a sale? I pray they don't go hungry.

Now I sit in Samos, toes near the Aegean. To my right sits my friend David, studying my Greek phrase book. To my left a man has tethered his boat to the cement dock/sidewalk, and is unraveling the knots in his fishing nets. I am enjoying the breeze, sitting awestruck, eating figs and apricots that I bought at a nearby market.

life is amazing. Friends are my sustenance and I am so thankful for being me.

Allahu akbar.
God is great.

(I have to leave the internet cafe now, but a recent update: I'm in Athens, and spent the day exploring the ancient Agora, the Parthenon and Acropolis. After the Acropolis, friends and I wandered the back roads for four hours, finally finding our hotel again. Getting lost has never been so fun!)