Dubrovnik & Split, Croatia & Istanbul & Turkbuku, Turkey, September 16th - 27th, 2009

Editor’s note: You know you have a problem with brevity when your own family starts to complain that blog entries are too long. Thanks to such (welcomed) feedback, our longer entries will now start with a quick summary and the picture/video links.

Summary: We visited Dubrovnik and Split, Croatia as well as Istanbul and Türkbükü, Turkey over 11 days with Rob and Jean. A family friend and her husband made Dubrovnik feel like home. A ferry journey up the Adriatic Sea showed off a wonder along the Dalmatian coast and Split was a short overnight visit. It was a whirlwind 48 hour rush around Instanbul, a fascinating city with 16 million people and traces of Christianity, Persians, Islam, world supremacy, decline, and (now) emerging modernity. The overused description of Istanbul as “the meeting place of east and west” seemed to unfairly oversimplify the place. Our last few days were spent unwinding on the shores of the Aegean Sea on the Bodrum Peninsula in Türkbükü.

Link to pictures: http://www.kodakgallery.com/gallery/creativeapps/slideShow/Main.jsp?token=965417138703%3A219027168

Link to a short video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8pit9uXS5A0

And now for the whole story…

It’s hard not to love European vacation policy. Every calendar year, I’m required to take 10 consecutive workdays of “holiday.” The idea is that if I’m up to any financial shenanigans, the red flags will start flashing to my replacements while I’m out of the office. Compliance and Risk departments…I salute you!

In New York, such a significant period away from the office might be encouraged during a honeymoon, for example, but that’s about it. Erin doesn’t get the same treatment, so we had to compromise. My parents were planning their annual visit so I took a few days off work to hang out with them in London before we all departed Gatwick for Dubrovnik on Wednesday night.

Dubrovnik never seems to get a bad review, so it had been on our “hope to visit” list since we moved. On top of that, my dad had performed a few knee surgeries on a woman named Carol who had since relocated to Croatia to live with her partner Baldo. There’s nothing like a local contact to turn a good visit into a great one…and Carol and Baldo did not disappoint.

Walking into the Dubrovnik at night was incredible.

We arrive at the Pile (PEE-luh) Gate at around 9:30pm. No cars are allowed in the old, walled city of Dubrovnik so Carol met our taxi outside and escorted us the rest of the way to our hotel. Entering the city through the fortified walls at night was stunning. It was quiet since it was relatively late so the white washed marble stones of the Stradun (main street) glowed majestically in the streetlights. (I honestly can’t remember the last time I typed the words “stunning” or “majestically,” but the only alternative I can think of is “breathtaking” and that’s even worse, right?)

Anyway, we arrived a the Amoret Apartments 3, 2 semi-joint rooms overlooking the Cathedral. We dropped our bags and immediately left for Carol and Baldo’s for dinner and snacks including ridiculously good olive oil and local liquors made in the village: cherry liquor, rakki, grappa, wine. What a welcome!

Their apartment is in old town to the right of the Dubrovnik Spanish steps (same architect as Rome’s). There are a lot of words that could be used to describe Carol, but quiet and timid do not make the list. We ended up staying for a few hours before slip/sliding our way back to our hotel at about 1am. It had poured while we were inside and walking on smooth, wet marble in sandals after a few glasses of rakki is deadly.

Starting the day the only way she knows how

We woke up the next morning and went straight for coffee at Konoba Kamarice before heading out to explore the Old Town. KK is a favourite of the locals for both coffee and food.

C&B took us on a mini tour outside of old town to some nice beach spots and views of the city from the outside. Lunch at K______ overlooking the sea was a good start on the food front. It was the first of many good seafood means. Amberjack was ordered all around upon Baldo’s recommendation.

Dubrovnik is commonly described as “Venice without the canals.” It seems like a fair description to me for many reasons. It remained neutral from hundreds of years which is pretty incredible given its proximity to Rome, Greece, and Venice. The Venetians got the closest to taking over the city, but instead allowed Dubrovnik a fair bit of autonomy. However, they did place a Venetian ‘governor’ in the city to keep an eye on things. The governorship lasted only one month, but during that month the governor couldn’t leave the Doge’s Palace for any reason whatsoever.

We learned this and other fun facts from our personal tour guide Sonja. We were fascinated with the recent Yogoslav war so she was able to help us sort things out. As a mix of Serb and Croat, she was able to provide some neutrality when describing the horrible events of the 1990s. It is nearly impossible to imagine that within the last 20 years, a city that now looks so perfect was under siege, being shelled constantly for months at a time while local men and boys were dying to protect their home. The war was fought between many different ethnic groups within the former Yugoslavia. It involved Slovaks, Serbs, Croats, Bosnians, Macedonians, Albanians, and many others each with slightly differing religious beliefs, ethnic backgrounds, disagreements about newly forming national borders, and political leaders with a penchant for genocide. It was a mess. No one seemed to have benefitted, but a lot of people are still very very bitter. Many people echoed the sentiment that it would probably take generations (of these bitter people dying off) before bygones will be bygones. It’s probably best for me to leave a longer description of the conflict to more informed sources.

Before dinner we stumbled into Buza 1 (literally “hole in the wall 1”) to watch the sunset with a about a hundred other people on some rocky cliffs just outside the city walls. As always, pictures don’t do it justice.

Dinner was at Kanoba Kamarice which, unfortunately for Erin, specialises in shellfish. My black squid ink risotto was salty but very nice while Erin’s plain omelette was uninspiring. After dinner we strolled the harbor and ate some good ice cream. The Croatians are very proud of theirs – it’s a lot like Italian gelato which is a very good thing.

On Friday morning we got off to a relatively quick start in an effort to beat the cruise boat crowds for a tour of the city walls. It took us about an 1 ½ hours to work slowly around the perimeter of the old city, taking in nice views. Afterwards we relaxed and swam for a while at the public beach, called the “socialist beach” by Baldo. Rob and Jean aren’t huge fans of relaxing in the sun so they took off relatively quickly. Erin and I get so exciting about seeing sun that we were willing to stay a bit longer. Tired and salty, we grabbed a quick lunch and some ice cream at the harbor.

That night we all had a glass of wine on the terrace of Pici Palace. It was closed but they let us stay. We were the only ones. We met C&B for dinner. They were planning to take us to their favorite just outside the Pile Gate, but we had no reservations and therefore no table. We experienced the same problem at three other restaurants before hopping into a pair of taxis and driving 15 minutes to a yacht club for dinner. It was the only time in our four days in Dubrovnik that we didn’t travel by foot. Orsan Yacht Club turned out to a great choice. It was excellent local wine and grouper. At this point we were learning a lot about C&B; how they met, lessons from Carols Zen Master and Buddhist (we think it’s two different people). Dull they are not.

On Saturday we climbed Mount Srd (pronounced Surge – the ‘d’ is crossed like a ‘t’ to give it the “dge” sound). It is topped by a Napoleonic-era fort. When the Serbs laid siege to Dubrovnik, Srd was the only hill they were never able to take…and good thing for the Old City. The fort now houses a museum which recounts the events of the war. It is notably one-sided, but fair enough I guess. The scars are still pretty fresh. Srd probably rises up about 2,500 feet, but it’s enough to get a sweeping view of the coastline to one side and Croatia’s mountainous border with Bosnia and Herzegovina to the other. Sorry B&H, but the view up the Dalmatian coast wins handily.

On top of the city walls

It was early afternoon by the time we made it back into town and having skipped breakfast we were starved. The pizza and beers at Mea Culpa Pizzeria hit the spot. Mea Culpa was one of about 50 simple pizza/pasta restaurants in the old city which catered to the cruise boat tourists. Sure enough, when we sat down the British couple at the table next to us asked, “so which boat are you on?” We ended up talking with the Brits a little throughout the meal. I think they were Liverpudlians, or at least that’s the closest large city they referenced.

Afterwards we took a short ferry ride to Island Lokrum. It’s a green oasis about half a mile from the Dubrovnik. We scouted a rocky, boulder beach to spread out our towels and take in some sun. Again, Rob & Jean were bored after about an hour so they made their way back while we laid around and I swam a bit more. Erin was happy not to get too close to the sea creatures (small fish). Our hike around the island took a surprisingly long time, so by the time we got back to the mainland we were ready for another swim, this time at Buza II since it was only about 2 minutes away from our hotel. We ran into Baldo there – he was just wrapping up a card game with his fellow speedo-clad friends. Tourists are everywhere in Dubrovnik so it was nice to see the local guys still hang out in places like Buza II. He described it as his “neighborhood swimming hole” for his entire life.

Carol and Baldo

Before dinner at C&Bs place, we bought a few gifts from the street/alley vendors. I hope the recipients like ‘em! Baldo cooked up a seafood feast. He lightly fried some whole Dorado (imagine eating a handful of thin fried goldfish including head, tail, etc) for an appetizer. The main was stuffed squid head. He chopped up the tentacles and mixed them with herbs and vegetables before stuffing the mixture into the head and roasting the whole thing. We each got our own head…except Erin. She had a fish dish all to herself. On the side Baldo made the most delicious aubergine salad – a recipe we hope to replicate. Sooooo good! We were absolutely stuffed so everyone but Baldo went for an after dinner walk. He was out cold by the time we got back so we had to enjoy the tiramisu without him. C&B had picked up a bunch of goodies for us from their market: olive oil, rakkia (firewater), cherry liquor - all in coke and fanta bottles. They were incredibly gracious hosts.

Reading up on Turkey

The next day we took a ferry up the coast from Dubrovnik to Split. We stopped briefly in the island towns for Korcula (“CORE-chew-luh) and Hvar (don’t pronounce the “h”). We sat outside on the deck of what appeared to be a retired cruise ship from the 1970s. I played about 10 hands of cribbage with my dad and lost every one of them…some things never change. In fairness it was my first time. I’ve joined an online cribbage league so I’ll clean the floor with him next time (kidding about the online league.)

One unique sight from the boat was two red and yellow “fire planes” battling a forest fire. They would fly low along the sea, somehow scooping up a fuselage full of water before flying up above the fire to drop their load. We watched the pair of planes repeat this cycle for a few minutes. They did not seem to leave much room for error near the water. Erin also spotted a marlin jumping out of the water.

Split at dawn

We arrived in Split and wandered some grubby old streets trying to find our hotel. I didn’t have a map so I was struggling trying to remember the mental route I had mapped out while studying googlemaps a few weeks prior. It seemed so easy online! We finally found Villa Stina, a nice small hotel with an outdoor lobby area. The receptionist, Mario, gave us a sweet free mini church tschotschke souvenir which will be prominently displayed in our homes forever. We relied on Rick Steves for dinner, just outside the walls of Diocletian’s Palace at Pizzeria Gratija. The pizza was a little soggy, but we were all starved and each put down our own pie. Don’t order prosecco there unless you’re really hoping for a glass of sherry.

We snickers ice cream at Hayduk and took a short walk on the promenade and through Diocletians Palace. He had retired here after running the Roman Empire. The ruins of the original palace are in very good shape and the rejuvenated city has successfully rebuilt itself throughout the original walls and buildings. Before bed we scouted the location of the Hertz rental car. We wouldn’t have much time to spare the next morning since we needed to get ourselves to Zagreb for our flight to Istanbul so we wanted to map things out (again – since we had no map.). The Hertz was easy enough to find so we went to bed knowing it would be a leisurely morning drive.

Wrong! Turns out I had booked the car from Split Airport, not Split “downtown” and the downtown location had no spare cars. So much for the good planning. We sprinted to the airport in a cab and waited while the painfully slow rental process unfolded. An hour behind schedule, we zoomed up the A1 highway in our Fiat something-or-other. Luckily, the highway is very modern (3 years old) with somewhat expensive tolls ($30 USD equivalent) so it was clear of traffic and we could make good time.   We arrived at Zagreb airport with enough time to have a picnic lunch in the quiet park across the street from the main terminal. That was a first! I can’t imagine doing the same at Heathrow or LaGuardia. Once we were through security, we spent our last Croatian kuna the only way we know how…buying about 6 chocolate bars from the duty free shop.

The Turkish Airlines flight was pretty empty and we even got a free sandwich. The turquoise blue seats were a fun too, though Erin was unsettled by the four shifty young men in the back row. She turned around to check on them about once a minute for the whole flight.

As with every other place during this trip, our arrival into Istanbul occurred in the dark of night. It was about 8pm when our taxi pulled into the winding cobblestone streets of Sultanahmet, the oldest part of Istanbul and the neighborhood where we would spend most of the time during our short visit. It’s a mixture of hotels, shops, restaurants, and old, old, old houses. We were on the 4th floor of our hotel so we had an unexpectedly good view of the Blue Mosque and some of Hagia Sofia (pronounced Aya Sofia). Just as we walked into our room the sunset prayer call began (see video). It was perfectly timed to make our arrival in Istanbul feel all the more enchanting, or creepy, as Erin would say. The Erten Konak is a small boutique hotel in Sultanehmet which smelled a little too much like moth balls. But at least there were no moths, right Er?

From Hagia Sofia toward the Blue Mosque

We went for a short walk and chose to eat at a restaurant recommended by Rick. Relative to his usual choices, this one was subpar. Not bad, just not great, and 100% of the patrons were tourists. I guess that’s what we should expect with a view of the Blue Mosque. Tuesday morning after taking advantage of Erten’s good breakfast, we walked Rick’s Old Town tour.

Inside Hagia Sofia

Unless you’re interested in a brief Istanbul history, skip this paragraph: The land now called Turkey was once knows as Anatolia. The ruling Hitittes in 2000 BC built a society that rivalled the Egyptians for 1000 years. The Greeks later colonized a city-state here called Byzantium. Then Persians (today’s Iranians) swept in around 600BC to leave their mark. Alexander the Great (the Macedonian) re-conquered Byzantine in 300BC and the Romans followed shortly thereafter. Constantine moved the Roman Empire’s capital here in 330 BC renaming the city Constantinople and forming the Byzantine Empire (Greek culture, Rome’s politics, Christian religion). This is completely separate from Holy Roman Empire we know better in the West. Later the Turks brought Islam to Anatolia in 1000AD, about 300 years into the life of that religion. The Mongols even showed up for a brief stint, but never really conquered. The Ottomans (a subset of Turks) grew strong in eastern Anatolia and were able to take Constantinople from Byzantine Christians in 1400s. From Constantinople, the Ottomans ruled Turkey, north Africa, and much of Middle East until the early 1900s. In WWI, they sided with Ze Germanz which did not end well. Goodbye Ottoman Empire. Enter British influence, the founding of the secular country of “Turkey” and the renaming of Constantinople to Istanbul. In short, this place had been influenced by lots of cultures and religions of many centuries.

So we started our tour at Hagia Sofia: it was built by Emperor Justinian in the 500s, over 1,000 years before St. Peters in Rome and it’s just as impressive architecturally. It served as a church for 1,000 years before the Ottomans took over. They liked the building so much that they built some minarets and called it a mosque...the model for hundreds of world’s famous mosques started as a cathedral…funny that. Minarets are for prayer calls so only one is really needed. The other five are just for showing off.

Underground Cistern

The ceiling of the original church was covered with mosaic tiles. But there were lots of images of people which is a no-no for Muslims so they just plastered over the mosaics and painted their standard geometric patterns. The building has since become a museum and it turns out the plaster job actually helped to preserve many of the original mosaics. To give some impression of the size, Notre Dame Cathedral could fit completely inside the main room. The statue of liberty could fit if she lot her torch and “do jumping jacks.” Unlike a St. Peter’s, there is very little going on within the interior, so the building itself is the main attraction.

Next up on the tour was the Underground Cistern, two football fields in area with 40 foot ceilings held up by Greek columns. It was once filled to provide water for the rapidly expanding city of Constantinople. Two of the support columns have huge Medusa heads carved into the base. Multiple theories exist to explain their existence.

Inside the Blue Mosque

The Sultanahment Camii (a.k.a. Blue Mosque) was the first working mosque visit for any of us and it sets the bar pretty high. It’s no shoes allowed and female guests need to cover up from head to ankle. The interior is a surprisingly large and unadorned space. That said, the walls and ceiling are intricately painted and the entire floor is covered with a huge industrial carpet that reduces the “character factor” relative to what it would like if the floor were still covered in hundreds of small rugs.

Non-Muslims are only allowed inside when it’s not prayer time so we didn’t stay long. We went to the Turk/Islamic Museum of Art in an attempt to put Erin to sleep. Then we walked in wrong direction for at least an hour (sweet map reading, Magellan!) before grabbing the tightly packed tram and another funicular up to Taksim Square. Some dude wrapped his leg around Erin from behind on the tram. Needless to say she was not happy, but she didn’t tell us about it until after we were off a few stops later.  We started walking down Istiklal Street, but it was way too crowded. We sat for one of the best and cheapest meal in Turkey at Beyoglo Ocakbasi on or Bekar Sokak off Istiklal Caddesi. It was simple and good!

At Galata Bridge

Istiklal Street is like 5th Avenue and Times Square combined. It feels a million miles away from the mosques and winding streets of Sultanahmet. We walked back across the Golden Horn via the Galata Bridge. Due to the end of Ramadam, we knew that the Grand Bazaar was closed so we tried to go to the Spice Market instead. It was closed too but the surrounding streets and alleyways were still packed. That was a theme throughout our time in Istanbul. Everywhere we went we found crowds. It was a very busy, energetic and youthful city despite it’s age.

That night Erin and I went to a Turkish Bath called Cemberlitas Hamam. Neither of us was quite sure what to expect. We walked in a paid (95 TL per person for the works). We were handed tokens (1 red, 1 yellow) and directed to enter. The sexes are segregated so I proceeded to the men’s changing area. I was pointed towards a bunch of semi-private changing rooms, and guessed/hoped that I was supposed to leave my clothes there. I wrapped myself in the large red and white plaid dishtowel and wandered around until someone pointed out where I was supposed to go next. I was feeling a little vulnerable in my dishtowel with tokens and a bottle of water in hand, sliding around on the slippery floor on my too-big sandals. I walked through a big, heavy wooden door and found a bunch of other guys wrapped in a dishtowels too so I figured that I was off to a good start. One of the older men grabbed me by the wrist and led me threw a doorway into the “main washroom.” This bath was built in 16th century so lots and lots and lots of dishtowel-clad men had been through this room over the centuries. The room is circular, maybe 10 meters in diameter, with 15 or so wash basins around the outer wall and a huge octagonal marble slab in the middle. My new friend (Ali, as I would later learn) got me ready for a wash. He sat me down by one of the basins. I was thinking that I would use one of the bowls to cover myself with water, but Ali had better ideas. He disappeared for a second before returning with a big bucket which he filled with lukewarm water. Then he chucked the bucket full of water in my face. The force of the water almost knocked me over backward as I was a bit caught off guard. Thankfully I had just enough time to close my mouth and eyes before a second bucketful of water arrived. Then we just looked at each other for a few seconds. He seemed unhappy. I didn’t know why. He took his bucket over to one of the other basins and filled it again. As he started walking back I braced myself, but this time the water was scalding hot. I don’t think I screamed, but an expletive may have escaped my lips. He seemed content with this. After a few more bucketsful of hot water, he brought me over to the marble slab and motioned that I needed to lay down. Then he disappeared again.

After a few minutes he returned and took out a coarse glove-towel scrubber thing and started exfoliating me head to toe. The same thing was happening to a handful of other guys on the slab so despite the pain from the steel wool exfoliation procedure, at least I was having an authentic Turkish experience. Then he returned with a bucket of hot-soapy water and repeated the process. There were lots of suds and I was sliding all over the marble slab. Ali seemed to be enjoying himself and I was pretty relaxed considering I felt like I was walking through a carwash. Once he rinsed me off, he led me into another room and sat me on the floor again by another wash basin. He stood over me and shampooed my hair and face and nothing about it was gentle. My neck cracked and popped as he messaged my head forcefully from above. I started to think about what the Turkish hospital system would be like if I became quadriplegic right then and there. Then, just as quickly as it all started, it was over. Ali stood me up and said “ok?” and giving me the thumbs up while looking into my eyes hopefully? I said, “yes, ok, thank you” using all the Turkish words I had memorized from the back of the guidebook. Then he said “Ali” while holding his hand to his chest, clearly introducing himself – and he followed that with “tip.” I tried to think about how to tip him. Clearly he didn’t expect me to be carrying money. Or were there pockets in the dishtowel? Or was I supposed to tip him with my yellow token? Speaking of which, where are my tokens? And my water bottle? And my sandals? I had lost everything in the carwash. He seemed to understand the concern on my face, so he added “tip after.”

Then he directed me to another room where a huge, hairy Turk named Aziz gave me 30 minute oily rub down after which I showered, changed and waited in the “cool room” for Erin to finish up. I ended up waiting about 45 minutes because Erin’s experience was even more fantastical that mine.

She had the same degree of confusion that I had, but she didn’t have someone like Ali to pull her around like a small puppy on a leash. She changed into her dishtowel, then went into the women’s marble slab room. From the sound of it, the women’s room is much bigger than the men’s. There were 20+ women in the room. She laid on the marble slab waiting for someone to come do something, but nothing happened for about 15 minutes. Then a topless woman in bikini bottoms came in and gave her the rubdown. Whatever erotic images you have in your head right now, you can just stop. Evidently all the female workers were fat…like orca fat. According to Erin, they looked miserable and tired and were just going through the motions. I guess fair enough. It was going on 10pm by now and they had been wandering around a sauna all day. After her rub down, she sat in a hot tub for a while. Then she made the mistake of going back into the marble slab room to wait. With no one there to point her in the right direction, she just conspicuously held out her red and yellow tokens hoping someone would take notice and tell her what to do. After 20 minutes, someone came and led her into the message room for her full body massage…and apparently full body is not an exaggeration.

It was quite an experience for both us, to say the least. We had a quick drink and some meze (like Turkish tapas) at Maneaura Cafe before bed.

Grand Bazaar

The next day I got up for a run while Erin tried to sleep off a headache. Mom and dad zipped over to the Grand Bazaar early in the morning because they had decided to sign up for a cooking class at Cooking AlaTurka during the day. We heard about the class from a Kiwi couple, Fi and Hayden at our hotel. Evidently it was a great an experience. They learned how to cook a few Turkish staples in a classroom of 11 people, then sat down to a feast at about 1pm. Meanwhile, Erin and I went over to the Grand Bazaar and Spice Market. The Grand Bazaar is a huge covered maze of small shops selling all sorts of things. It was a little disappointing in that many of the stalls sold Canal Street, NYC-like knockoff stuff (“Real Fake Watches!”). The rest of them sold the obvious collection of lamps, ceramics (which we bough and broke on the way home), leather goods, spices, etc. We bought ourselves some bowls because Erin loves small bowls and some gifts. The shopping wasn’t great, but the size of the place and the history was impressive. It would be great to have seen this place 50 or 150 years ago. Who knows what you could have found. It was so big we couldn’t figure out how to get out! After 20 minutes of wandering we just picked a direction and tried to walk in a straight line. Eventually we escaped and made our way to the Spice Market, a much more manageable collection of stalls selling tourist crap, food, spices, etc. I went a little overboard buying $60 worth of dried fruit, nuts, and baklava from one of the vendors. That said, the figs, sun-dried apricots, and sesame covered peanuts were really good. In both the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Market, we were pleasantly surprised by the lack of pushy salespeople. We were expecting constant harassment, but it was pretty tame…nothing like Marrakech.

We had lunch at Hamdi Restaurant overlooking the Galata Bridge. The recommendation caçme from Risk Steves and Fi and Hayden. It was ok, but nothing great. We had an interesting conversation with a Swedish dude named Andreas. He was just “on a break” from his real estate profession in Dubai and he decided to ride his motorcycle from Dubai to Sweden and back. However, with just 3-4 countries to go, he ran out of passport pages so he couldn’t get the necessary Iranian visa. Anyway, interesting guy despite being a little suspect at first. He said a friend sent him to Hamdi and that he had to get the pistachio lamb kebab. I tried it myself…so so.

View toward Istanbul from Bosphorus Bridge 

Late that afternoon we took an airport shuttle across the Galata Bridge and then across the Bosphorus Bridge to the Asia side of Istanbul. The new, small Sabiha Gokcen airport was about an hour drive.

We arrived into the Bodrum airport via Pegusus Air after dark and drove our rented Ford Focus into Türkbükü, a small village on the Bodrum Peninsula. ‘When you arrive at Maçakizi, your holiday begins.’ That was the greeting from the receptionist…it felt a little forced and awkward since we’d already been on holiday for a week at that point, but no matter. The place looked nice and we were happy to arrive after the 45 minute drive. Our rooms overlooked the bay, but we didn’t fully appreciate the view until morning. Erin’s head was still throbbing, so we made an early night of it.

The jetty at Macakizi

The next morning, we realized that we had hit the jackpot with the hotel. The view was incredible - just what we were hoping for. All four of us went for a short, but painful run up and down the hills around the harbor. When we got back, we felt as though we had earned our breakfast and we took full advantage. Türkbükü is a holiday spot heavily used by Turks, so now that most of them were back at work and school for the season, the town seemed almost dead. Our hotel felt like it was operating at 25% capacity if that. After breakfast we spent most of the day laying on the jetty. Even Jean swam in the Aegean! It was an incredible way to spend a day.

Erin just dropped the soggy donuts in those bushes

Laughing through a bad meal

We wandered along the harbor to find a restaurant for a late lunch / early dinner. We chose a place that looked, well, open. “Close no,” said the owner, as in “we’re open 24 hours”. The frustratingly nice owner didn’t really speak any English, but some of the menu was in English so it shouldn’t have been a problem. The view was great, but it was downhill from there. Despite being situated right on the harbour of a fishing village, there was no fish on the menu. All the food tasted and looked a little like Turkish TV dinners. Erin’s wine tasted like vinegar. The canned Efes beer was good, thankfully. We were the only ones at the restaurant and the owner brought each of us two complementary desserts. The second one was so bad that Erin secretly dropped the soggy, syrupy donut holes into the bushes. We felt really bad, but couldn’t bring ourselves force them down out of politeness. We ended the day with some bread, chocolate and wine on the balcony of the hotel.

Ahhhhhhh

The next morning we drove the long way into Bodrum. Erin was a little cranky because she was missing out on jetty time, but she held her tongue. The situation was not helped by the incoming cloud-cover. Bodrum was very touristy and very crowded. We wandered the shops for a while. I think we walked away having made a few purchases and we were happy to get on our way back to our hotel. We tried to salvage some jetty time, but the clouds made it a little cool. Dad beat me in cribbage about 10 more times. We decided to order room service and eat more bread with the olive oil from Croatia. We played eukre for a few hours before bed.

Not allowed in the Roman Forum

On our last day, we left after savouring our last few hours at Maçakizi – one last breakfast, one last swim. We then drove 2.5 hours to Ephesus, an ancient Roman city with some incredible ruins standing to this day (maybe with the help of some recent reconstruction.) Nevertheless, as one of the Seven Ancient Wonders of the World it was well worth the drive.

Library of Celsus at Ephesus

On the way back to the Bodrum Airport, we stopped for a Starbucks coffee in an outlet mall that also contained a Nike and an Adidas outlet. It felt like we were in the States, save for the Starbucks menu being in Turkish. We flew on Atlas Jet back to Istanbul where we would catch our flights back to the Portland and London the next day. We stayed the night at the Cinar Hotel by the airport. We had our last breakfast together on the terrace overlooking the Sea or Marmara. I was sad to see my parents leaving for the airport. We live about 5,000 miles apart so it was quite a treat to be able to spend two weeks together. Erin and I played tennis on the mini-court by the beach that looked like it hadn’t been used in years. It was the last thing we would do in Turkey…except for burning our last few lira on chocolate in the duty free shop, of course.

UPDATE: The Marco Polo, the cruise ship-cum-ferry that took us along the Dalmation coast ran aground on the island of Sit. No one was hurt, but everyone had to be evacuated...funny to think that could have been us as it occurred about one month after our voyage.

Paris, France, August 29th - August 31st, 2009

To get shat on by a bird once is considered lucky, but twice in one weekend? Perhaps you’ll be blessed with the Midas touch? Who wouldn’t want to go to Paris in the hopes that it would happen?!

We arrived Saturday morning via the Eurostar and walked to our hotel- Hotel Mathi’s which we thought was Mathis up until the day we left. It was one of those , leave the hotel, look back for one last glance and (after seeing the name multiple times during the weekend) finally noticed that there was an apostrophe and it was in fact the hotel of a guy named Mathi. Regardless, it was a nice hotel near the US Embassy and the Champs Elysee. The room was nicely decorated (although very small) and I could have done without the booger on the bathroom wall and the used band-aid stuck inside the top of the garbage can. The complimentary bath salts made up for those two negatives, but yeah right as if I would ever bathe in a public tub. One word: CRABS!

After a quick wee, we rented our first (of many) bikes and made our way to the Eiffel Tower. Of course that is an obligatory tourist attraction and 'must-see' but I love it. I love it more at night, but it is just such a cool structure.

After a quick ride-by, we navigated our way to Rue de Mouffetard (pretty much our favourite street in Paris) to have a market lunch. Bread, Compte cheese, 2 chorizo sticks, peaches and a Coke Zero later, we headed to the park at the end of the street where we experienced a wedding procession and Eric experienced his first dollop of bird poop on his back. The food was really good and no bird poop was going to dampen our spirits.

The bird might have gotten scared and/or agitated by the woman aggressively shaking a branch of the tree we sat under. Picture this: somewhat homeless looking woman (but not) with ratty hair, chicken legs, and a beer belly shaking a (somewhat large) branch bearing what I can only guess were acorns, and her then proceeding to collect them. Discuss...

After strategically placing the messenger bag strap over the poo, we were off headed to Jardin du Luxembourg for a stroll. It was a lovely day so we decided to pull up some of the ridiculously heavy iron chairs and read for awhile. Yes, we pretended to be locals. Reading was exhausting so we headed back to the hotel to rest before heading out for dinner.

Because we liked to pretend we are locals and know where we are going, we asked the man with the guyliner at reception for a recommendation. We were willing to go wherever, even willing to stay near the hotel. After about a 2 minute struggle of giving us NO recommendations, he handed us a book to peruse by cuisine. Although helpful, it really wasn't because we were just looking for some basic steak frites that wasn't going to break the bank.

I can't remember the name of the restaurant, but the rump steak was a bit fatty, but good and just what I was hoping for. We then went for our customary after-dinner walk and just so happened to catch the Eiffel Tower light show. We walked to the tower and sat nearby to enjoy the view. I then got tired so we hailed a cab back to the hotel.

On Sunday morning we went for a run along the Seine. We don't do it as often now (because my old labrador hips and knees can't take it), but I really enjoy these runs in foreign cities. The views and surroundings you see while running are usually off the beaten path and somewhat soothing. We arrived back at the hotel sweaty and starving so had breakfast at the hotel. Very minimal, but satisfying for about 2 hours. Bike-riding Round 34 ensued with a journey to Invalides to catch a train to Versailles. We probably could have walked to the station because it was so close, but when the first 30 min on a bike are free, why the heck not?

Arriving at the gates of Versailles was nothing compared to the awe-inspiring gardens out the back. They were massive!! I much preferred wandering through the gardens than touring the palace. The palace looked like any other and really didn't excite me much. And, even though I am not a museum person and Eric is, he even agreed with me! For a tour of the palace, the gardens and the Marie Antoinette farm which is also situated on the grounds, the admission charge was £50 for both of us. So 'spensive!

After a few hours of walking around, Eric and I left Versailles, turned left out of the entrance, and decided to sit at a cafe for a glass of wine and afternoon snack. Whatever you do, don't go to the place to the left with the red awning. The wine tasted like vinegar, the potatoes were hard and cold (despite a good zap from the microwave) and the croque monsieur was dirty. Dirty as in, mushy and tasted like plastic. We really should have walked out as soon as we walked through the door, noticed the self serve and the overall shadiness of the establishment. Oh well, shame on us. The only two upsides were the sunsoaked sidewalk area and the bee that fell into my vinegar glass and proceeded to get hammered. Right before we left, we poured him out onto the sidewalk and watched him stumble around for a bit.

We headed back to Paris, hopped on the bikes and headed back to the hotel for a rest. Dinner that night (again with no help whatsoever from the guyliner man) was at an Italian place near Mouffetard that we (of course) biked to! The restaurant was called the Latin Quarter and it was quite good. I tried something that tasted like a tuna steak and Eric had a pizza. The olive oil, I think, was maybe the best I'd ever had? It was a sundried tomato, garlic, delicious concoction.

After dinner we strolled to get some ice cream before hopping on bikes and taking a night time tour to the big sights. We 'stumbled' upon the Louvre at night which is absolutely stunning. After a quick ride by the mini Arch, we headed back to the Champs Elysee area hoping for one last drink before calling it a night. We anticipated that drinks near our hotel would be quite expensive given the area that we were staying in, but we weren't prepared to pay 15 euros for a drink. Our next option was a fast food place that served beer, but they stopped serving at midnight (probably for the best). So, one drink lighter, we headed back to the hotel.

Monday, we decided to have a quick breakfast in the hotel before heading out to do some shopping. So off we biked. It was a pretty unsuccessful trip, but nice to bike around the city. We had worked up an appetite for lunch a few hours later and sat down at a sidewalk cafe to have an omelet and a goat cheese salad. We then raced to find some bread and cheese to eat on the train, before having to get to the station in time for our trip back. Unfortunately, we had luck only finding bread! Our bad luck continued as we struggled to find empty bike racks to ditch our bikes near the hotel. Luckily, in the end we did find two spaces and raced back to the hotel to grab our bags and head to the train station via Metro with only 40 minutes before our train was set to depart.

Our luck turned around as we caught the right Metros and arrived with about 20 min to spare, then we saw the line to get through passport control. We had remembered it being painfully slow when we were in Paris in March with friends, however the line that day had nothing on this one. It snaked back onto itself and was a sure sign that we were going to miss our first plane or train ever. If you know us, which you likely do, each trip we take, it is a race to make our flights or trains. We've come as close as you can come to missing them without actually doing so. This time, there was no way we were going to make it and like good sportsman, we accepted defeat and knew that this time we had been beaten. UNTIL, we learned that 3/4 of the people in that line were actually on our train! A slow 20 minutes later, we were on the train, with everyone else in the line and on our way back to London.

It was, yet again, another great trip to Paris...

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Amsterdam, Netherlands - August 21st - 23rd, 2009

A chance to go to Amsterdam for a quick weekend with two friends and get 1 of 2 tickets paid for? Sign us up! Eric had a few meetings out in Amsterdam (and the surrounding areas) at the end of last week. He, along with two good friends of ours that he works with, also had a few meetings (maybe coincidentally?) out there as well. Since the three of them were going to be out there and work was paying for the flight, I decided to buy a last minute ticket and enjoy the weekend with them.

I flew out of City airport Friday night after work. City airport is fabulous. Since I am already east, I just take the tube to Bank and get the DLR which takes me right there. It took about an hour from Russell Square and within about 15 minutes of getting to the airport, I was checked in, through security and sitting in the lounger near the gate. They board the planes (which are generally small) about 30 minutes before takeoff and they tend to take off on time and land early – bonus!

 I arrived in Amsterdam, uneventfully, and was surprised to see Eric waiting for me at the arrival area. He decided to come pick me up at the airport – which was really sweet. We stopped quickly at our hotel – Eden Square then headed to grab some good. The Eden Square has a great location near Rembrandt Square which makes the city very accessible on foot or by bike. The rooms are smaller, but the beds are really comfortable and the bathrooms are very ergonomically designed and have nice toiletries. Anyway, I digress. We stopped for a quick falafel at a chain – Maoz before meeting up with Ciara and Ashley for drinks. We started in Rembrandt Square, then wandered off to a side street for a few more. Towards the end of the night we made our way to a very very very local place where the local tranny population frequents. The swinging chandelier, the Dutch pop music we couldn’t understand and the clientele made for an interesting last drink. We then headed back to the hotel and proceeded to raid the vending machine for some Toblerone, waffle things, and some weird rectangle-shaped, puffed rice bits that tasted like fake bacon and cheese. They were deliciously disgusting.

 One of Eric’s favorite activities when visiting Paris and Amsterdam is riding bikes so early Saturday morning we got up, rented bikes from the hotel (which were brilliant because they were proper bikes without the big signage that generally comes with rentals) and cycled our way to breakfast at Pancakes! Amsterdam. The pancakes were delicious! Eric had a sweet one and I had one with goat cheese, pine nuts, garlic oil, and spinach. After breakfast we cycled to the big windmill – which I had missed on our last visit due to illness, then back to the hotel to meet up with the Searles. The Searles were just rising for the day and we decided we would cycle a bit more and meet them later in VondelPark.
 About an hour later we met up in Vondel Park. Eric and Ashley took the bikes and were set to meet Ciara and I (who were on foot) at the Farmer’s Market, Noordermarkt-Boerenmarkt. As you know, Eric and I love a good market and were able to get some fixings for lunch (bread, cheese, olives, artichokes, and a delicious muffin with pesto, sundried tomatoes, pine nuts and feta cheese. How incredible does that sound?!

We ate our goods with the gang and had a nice rose and a beer to wash everything down. We then strolled back to the hotel (we being Ciara and I); Ashley took the bike once again. Although he said he really didn’t like bikes, he definitely wanted to ride mine an awful lot. We met the boys near the square and had a quick rest before heading to the hotel (for an actual rest) before dinner. Dinner that night was at an Indonesian place called Long Pura. The experience was authentic as it was about 100 degrees in the restaurant, and we were given orchids as a greeting. It was almost as if we were in Bali!

Canal party - the water is there somewhere

The food was good. We got a rice table which included many small dishes of local flavor. My favorite was the spicy pork; my least favorite was the spicy egg (which I didn’t try because the concept disgusted me) You better believe Eric tried it though; although he didn’t like it!

Following dinner, we walked through the red light district (which I am completely fascinated by). I think it is because those women have a profession that is so completely different from mine. I remember the first time I visited this part of Amsterdam; I was surprised by the gross unattractivenss of many of the women. I remember expecting them to be much better looking and a lot less trashy. The ridicule and judgement that goes on in my mind when I see men approach them is astonishing.

When I was satisfied with our red light visit, we headed back to the square and had one (or three) for the road at a cafe. It was great to spend quality time with the Searles.

On Sunday, we pedaled to one of our favorite (or my favorite) bagel places for breakfast - bagels and beans near the Van Gogh museum. After a quick tour around the area, we headed back to the hotel, because we had to check out (and sadly) relinquish the keys to our bike locks.

At noon, we boarded a train to Odejk to visit Kirsten Namesnik and her kids, Austin and Madison. Kirsten (for those who don't know) was the wife of one of Eric's former swim coaches in college. Snik passed away in January of '06 and just last year Kirsten moved the family back to her hometown to be nearer to her mom and sister. We had a great (although brief) trip to see their home, the school where the kids attend and the neighborhood in which they live. It was great catching up with her, meeting her sister and having lunch with the kids. They are still as cute as ever and Kirsten a gracious host. Sadly, it was then time to say goodbye and head back to Schiphol.

Amsterdam Round 2 - different from Round 1, but equally as good.

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Southampton, England, UK - August 15th-16th, 2009

As Nic and I became closer workmates, I was curious to know where exactly she grew up. Given that she has lived here all her life, I figured she grew up in a quaint country village – proper English-style. Eric and I were about to find out.

We took the train down to Southampton Airport Parkway on Saturday afternoon. The train took a little over an hour and was very straightforward. As soon as we detrained, Nic was waiting to take us to the small town of Romsey to meet her brother and soon to be sister-in –law. We walked around the cute, cobblestone streets stopping to hear the history of certain landmarks along the way. The convent where Nic went to secondary school was one of the stops along the way. It is no longer a school and the nuns have been shipped out due to unsafe building structure. The school sits on a really lovely little park with a winding path. The path crosses a creek that then leads to one of the main streets. Set-back from the street that leads into town lives a famous chef. Any guesses? Gordon Ramsey! He wasn’t home, but his gardener was there and apparently his gardener gets paid quite well; he drives a Mercedes!

We grabbed some olives and artichokes just as the farmer’s market was closing up for the day and headed to Wellow – Nic’s hometown.

Jan and Calvert were so welcoming and made us feel right at home. Their home on Chichester Road was close to what I imagined - a quaint country house, but in a neighborhood. The houses were rather close together, but were not cookie-cutter like the neighborhoods that I grew up around. We spent the early evening enjoying the unusually sunny weather and playing croquet in the backyard. It was then time to feast on more meat I have ever had on my plate along with a variety of salads. Everything was so yummy! The rest of the evening we chilled outside until the temperature dropped. We then moved the party indoors and played Articulate until the early morning hours. Articulate is similar to Taboo (but there are no words that you aren’t allowed to say in order to get your partner (or team) to guess the name, object, place, etc. written on the card. The game proved quite challenging for Eric and I since many of the people and places were British specific and so of course we had not really heard of them. It made the game that much more fun and interesting though!

Sunday we took a long walk through the New Forest which is right outside of Nic’s village. The New Forest is huge at 93,000 acres and interestingly enough, it is neither new nor a forest. It is over 900 years old and less than half of it is actually woodland (courtesy of The New Forest website). A few horses were the only animals we saw on our trek even though pigs, cattle and donkeys can be found roaming freely in the forest.

Our lunch at The Lamb following the walk was much deserved. We soaked up more of the English sun as we swallowed down cider, beer, a ploughman’s and a salad. After lunch, we made our way back to the Douglas’ for tea, a delicious cake and one (or ten) last round of croquet.

Fully satiated, beaten at croquet by Graham yet again and tired, we headed back to London Sunday afternoon after a great quick trip to Southampton.

The BBQ table and a few croquet action shots:

National 3 Peaks Challenge (Scotland, England, and Wales) - July 12th-13th, 2009

Before Eric and I left NY, we had bought used bikes (more like 80s ten-speeds) from a tiny repair shop in Brooklyn in anticipation of doing a few triathlons. Once we arrived here, we soon realized that the bikes would not be good decor for our guest bathroom and that leaving them out in the ever-changing elements would quickly make them unsafe for riding.

The whole group in good spirits at the top of Ben Nevis

Once the hopes of competing in triathlons were shot and my ability to run proved feeble, we decided to climb some mountains. One of Eric’s colleagues told him about this challenge called the National 3 Peaks. The National 3 peaks challenge is basically attempting to climb the three tallest peaks in England, Scotland and Wales in under 24 hours. It was intriguing, and we knew it would give us the chance to see some new areas of the UK (which we are not so good at travelling to) so we decided to join the team.

The team consisted of 11 team members, some of our friends, friends of friends and then a work colleague of mine and her siblings, all led by Eric’s work colleague.

Jon (Eric’s work colleague) had organized the trip and hired a pair of trained guides who acted as our drivers for the weekend. They were professional guides who made sure we were driven between the mountains, fed, and remained safe throughout the journey.

We all flew up to Glasgow on Saturday morning and began the 1.5 drive to Ben Nevis – our first point of ascent. After a pub lunch and a stop at Morrison’s for some last minute supplies, we were given a map, an emergency tent, and snacks consisting of Scotch eggs, pork pies, and sausage rolls, chips and chocolate bar. We later found that this was our breakfast and lunch on each of the mountains.

The weather forecast for much of the weekend was rain and windy, some torrential. However, as we began to climb Ben Nevis, the temperature was warm and soon our layers began coming off. The incline was quite steep at the beginning and reminded me a lot of the climb on Table Mountain with big boulders forming the steps. About halfway up, the climb became a bit more of a steady incline, but the drops to the right of us just kept getting scarier and scarier. The pace was slow, but steady but soon the group split into two based on speed. We regrouped near the top and decided to push for the summit all together. Once we got above the grass line, the views were spectacular. The sun was slowing starting to set and was casting the most breathtaking reflections on the lake down below.

As we got closer and closer to the top, there were about 4 false summits that toyed with us, the weather began to get very cold, very windy and very blustery. We scaled a snow patch and a few winding paths before making our way to the top. We celebrated at the peak for about 10 minutes, took the obligatory group photo before heading down. We had about a half hour’s time to make up as the estimate climbing time to the top was 3 hours. Fun fact: both a piano and a Model T Ford have been brought to the top of the summit.

Should have spent less time taking pictures
and more time hiking

The descent was thought to be much easier than the ascent so we figured we could get down in about an hour and a half which would have been ideal since it was getting dark. About a quarter of the way down the mountain the ‘fast’ group took off and said they would meet us at the bottom. The ‘slower’ group, which we were hanging back with, were really angered by this and cursed the other group the entire way down. Unfortunately, we didn’t pick up the pace much and ended up finishing the last hour or so in the dark. Luckily, head lamps had been packed so those helped us get down. Oh yeah, did I mention that the ‘fast’ group took the map with them? Yeah, pretty sweet.

The Boulder field near the top of Scafell Pike

We made it down the mountain and met up with the other group at the van after about 3 hours which brought the total time of the climb to 6.5 hours (the approximate time it was supposed to take was 5). Dinner was provided by the drivers and consisted of rice with either boiled Bolognese or stew. Although I wasn’t really hungry, I forced down the food since I hadn’t had much of the ‘snacks’ that we had been provided before we started the climb. After a quick change, we all started to doze while the drivers began the trip to Scafell Pike in the lake district of England.

I’m not sure about anyone else, but I was able to sleep relatively well between mountains. The journey time was estimated at 4 hours, but it took us 6 (because of bad weather) so we ended up starting the second mountain an hour and a half behind schedule. The 24 hour goal wasn’t looking too promising. And, oh, did I mention that it was raining, hard?

We thought we would get breakfast when we got out of the van, but we were sent up the mountain with baggies of the same range of pork products and snacks from climb number 1.

Scafell Pike proved to be a much more technical climb. In the rain and wind, we traversed waterfalls, scaled rocks, crossed streams, and navigated boulder fields. There was one section in particular about 30 minutes from the summit where we were climbing up a 60 degree incline on really slippery shale near an edge in blustery conditions. I feared the descent and thought for sure I was going to fall off the side. Once the ‘slow’ group made it up this part of the mountain, the fast group was nowhere in sight. It was very misty and foggy as we were in a cloud, and the fast group had taken the only compass and map. Luckily we each had a radio so we called the fast group for directions. Good teamwork, guys.

As soon as we made it to the top, we basically touched the point on the summit and started our descent. It was really cold up at the top of the mountain, and we just wanted to get the heck out of there. The descent was much like the ascent, very slow , very wet and very technical. It took us about 7 hours to climb this mountain; it was a bit frustrating with how slow we were going and how that 24 hour mark was now pretty much impossible. Oh yeah, and the fast group took off and left us yet again.

Soaked, and just starting our second climb

We drove to the final peak in Wales – Snowdon, and were going to begin climbing it at the 24 hour mark so that challenge had proved too much for our group. Our next goal was just to summit the 3 peaks. We arrived at Snowdon and we all started the climb together - all 11 of us. Supposedly, this is the easiest of the three mountains, can be climbed in about 4 hours and has a path where you can even ride up the mountain. (I’m still very sceptical of that).

The first 3 miles or so of the climb is a relatively flat marked path that is easy and where you can go quickly. Unfortunately, and almost immediately the groups split and the fast group took off with the map and compass, again. We walked to a point where you had to walk straight up over this rocky waterfall thing and it was at that point where we couldn’t' see the rest of our slower group so we decided to wait for them while the fast group took off out of sight.

I had two wicked blisters at this point, but not even those two open wounds rubbing on wet leather were going to stop me from summiting this 3rd and final mountain. Once the slower group caught up, we tried to follow another group in hopes finding the summit since we had nothing to guide us there.

We carried on following these people for another 10 minutes or so but then they were too quick and got away. Eric went ahead a bit to see if he could see our group and see if they were waiting for us over the ridge, but they were gone. This time, they had officially ditched us. At this point, two people were coming down and stopped to tell us what it was like on the summit, about how far it was, and if we would be able to navigate our way there without the necessary navigational tools. Apparently, we were only a mile from the summit, but one of our team members wasn’t feeling great, and with the terrain we had just crossed, we would have never been able to summit and then come down the mountain in the dark safely and we would have likely been coming the entire length of the mountain (about 2.5 hours worth) down in the dark and wet, and it would have been really scary.
It was at this point that the decision was made to turn around and start our descent without having reached the top. I cried a little (because I knew we were 110% capable of succeeding), but then sucked it up and started walking down.

Once we got to the bottom, the other group appeared about a half hour later. They had summited and of course said it was hard and it was probably better that we hadn't tried. I wanted to kick them all in the face. It was then that Lucy starting puking regularly (from food poisoning we are guessing) and continued to do so about 13 more times on the 5 hour drive back to London in a wet, cramped hot van. We arrived back to London at 5 a.m. on Monday morning. We slept for 3 hours and got into work at 9:30. It was a long, rough day at work, but overall wasn’t feeling too bad.

Given the circumstances and the terrible team dynamic, it was an experience. But, all that aside, I loved the challenge (both mentally and physically and the scenery and would happily do it again in the future. I know that we can summit those mountains, and possibly in 24 hours so I’m determined to try one more time.

Pics of the experience can be found here:

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