Just a quick one here but I feel compelled to write it: We're currently in Kayseri - with Konya one of the Anatolian economic tigers but also a hub for relative conservativism. It's gorgeously set in the shadow of a 4 kilometre high extinct volcano; the very volcano in fact responsible for the otherworldly terrain in Cappadoccia. Anyway basically we're the only tourists in this city of 500 thousand people. And getting over their shock at seeing us people are more friendly and genuinely interested than we've experienced anywhere else on this trip to date. People give us free bus rides, free tea everywhere we go, free extremely detailed historical tours, and free lunches. It's totally ridiculous how hospitable people are, and my western sensibilities are hinting strongly that I should be feeling guilty. I keep having to remind myself not to. That when they refuse my second attempt to insist on paying the jig is up and I should just enjoy the free ride. Moral of the story: If you ever have the chance, spend a couple of days in Kayseri. It's been a total highlight and I haven't even told you yet about the Turkish bath (Hamam) that I'm still tingling and cleaner-than-I've-ever-been-before from which we took a good 4 hours ago.
The one downer... hanging out with our new friends we ended up watching random internet videos and one of them decided to show us this PETA video of an animal being skinned alive supposedly in Canada (it wasn't any Canadian species that I knew of not that that makes a hell of a lot of difference) and we sat through the whole thing out of politesse. It was pretty horrible as PETA scare videos tend to be. One of the guys then turned to us and asked profoundly who we thought was the animal. Oh PETA... how you can ruin what was otherwise so civilized an afternoon.
Ben's ongoing book club of one update: Finished off the Poisonwood Bible a few days ago somewhat less than impressed (although it was absorbing enough that I plowed through it quickly). The one character with any substance was so weighed down with gimmicks as to be totally distracting. Am now almost through a reread of The Great Gatsby and, craving comfort food, will be plunging into a reread of the Fellowship of the Ring probably on the night bus to Nemrut tonight.
Post Script: Unfortunately I was unable to publish this at time of writing last night due to technical difficulaties. In the mean time I've thought of a few other things I've been meaning to mention: (a) I'm a terrible person and haven't sent a postcard for about a month out of sheer crappy inexcusable laziness. I plan on resuming immediately and I apologize to those of you who have not yet received one but were kind enough to send me your addresses. (b) I wanted to share with you a pick up line that this one carpet dealer taught us. He apparently learned it from American troops posted in Turkey by NATO: "My love for you is like diahorrea, I can't hold it in." Who says Americans don't make a positive impact abroad?
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Yar.
Once again, apologies for the lateness of this post. . Lots of things have happened so I'm just going to jump right in.
We went on a four day cruise in this turkish sail boat thing. It ruled. It was supposed to be us an 7 Australians but as it happened they cancelled at the last minute and we got the run of the place. Less drunken perhaps than it would have been, it was though probably infinitely more relaxing. Just us and the crew, a lot of swimming in ruins and/or hidden coves, huge and delicious Turkish meals cooked on board, dolphins at one point, backgammon, The Poisonwood Bible...
The first night these rich as all hell polish people who had chartered a luxury sailboat came over for drinks (our boats having been tied together to weather a storm that had crept up on everyone). THe main dude brought over the best Vodka I'd ever tasted and bounced back and forth between proclaiming the justness and injustice of a world driven by the acquisitive nature of the human race... particularly the upper cadres. Not that that's necessarily contradictory, but from him it was, it couldn't not be as he was so pationately emotional whatever his opinion and so aggressive about drunkenly elaborating it. Heh. By the end of the night he was taking down our digits and inviting us all to spend the rest of the summer in Warsaw. I lost his contact information the next day however when I decided to take a swim without emptying the pockets of my bathing suit.
Ask me sometimes and I'll tell you more about it. I need to check out soon though so I'd better move on.
From the boat we went to this place called Olympos where backpackers stay in tree houses and spend the days climbing around the spectacular mountains in the surrounding area, lounging on the rocky beach, or putzing around the local ruins (I'm learning Yiddish by the way. My vocabulary stands currently at the following, forgive poor spelling... it's supposed to be in the hebrew alphabet anyway: Meshigenah, Schlemeel, Schlemozel, Babele, kvetch, schtetel, putz, tukhis, schlepp, shmuck, schmaltz, and I forget the one that's what's thrown away after a bris but I'm intent on retaining it before I let Brent off the hook). At midnight our first night there we were walking back from the fire spouting slope of the mountain which gives Olympos its name and I got a call from my aunt who gave me the news that the condo that's been the bane of my exhistence has finally sold. Not only that but it sold the day it was put up on the market. Not only that but it sold for the price of initial posting which was significantly higher than we had expected. I am very happy and you can all breathe a sigh of relief.
From Olympos we made our way to Konya, birthplace of the Dervish order, and spent a day wandering around mosques and museums. Karin was told she was dressed inappropriately because her skirt only went down to about 4 inches below her knees.
Next was cappadoccia and we've done a crapload most of which can be best expressed pictorially so I'll maybe give details about this later. I'll say this much though: it's otherworldly. Yesterday we were hiking around and got caught in the rain. WE fuond a rock arch that we were able to shimmy up into and waited it out playing backgrammon.
Here's hoping that the days ahead at least keep pace with those behind!
We went on a four day cruise in this turkish sail boat thing. It ruled. It was supposed to be us an 7 Australians but as it happened they cancelled at the last minute and we got the run of the place. Less drunken perhaps than it would have been, it was though probably infinitely more relaxing. Just us and the crew, a lot of swimming in ruins and/or hidden coves, huge and delicious Turkish meals cooked on board, dolphins at one point, backgammon, The Poisonwood Bible...
The first night these rich as all hell polish people who had chartered a luxury sailboat came over for drinks (our boats having been tied together to weather a storm that had crept up on everyone). THe main dude brought over the best Vodka I'd ever tasted and bounced back and forth between proclaiming the justness and injustice of a world driven by the acquisitive nature of the human race... particularly the upper cadres. Not that that's necessarily contradictory, but from him it was, it couldn't not be as he was so pationately emotional whatever his opinion and so aggressive about drunkenly elaborating it. Heh. By the end of the night he was taking down our digits and inviting us all to spend the rest of the summer in Warsaw. I lost his contact information the next day however when I decided to take a swim without emptying the pockets of my bathing suit.
Ask me sometimes and I'll tell you more about it. I need to check out soon though so I'd better move on.
From the boat we went to this place called Olympos where backpackers stay in tree houses and spend the days climbing around the spectacular mountains in the surrounding area, lounging on the rocky beach, or putzing around the local ruins (I'm learning Yiddish by the way. My vocabulary stands currently at the following, forgive poor spelling... it's supposed to be in the hebrew alphabet anyway: Meshigenah, Schlemeel, Schlemozel, Babele, kvetch, schtetel, putz, tukhis, schlepp, shmuck, schmaltz, and I forget the one that's what's thrown away after a bris but I'm intent on retaining it before I let Brent off the hook). At midnight our first night there we were walking back from the fire spouting slope of the mountain which gives Olympos its name and I got a call from my aunt who gave me the news that the condo that's been the bane of my exhistence has finally sold. Not only that but it sold the day it was put up on the market. Not only that but it sold for the price of initial posting which was significantly higher than we had expected. I am very happy and you can all breathe a sigh of relief.
From Olympos we made our way to Konya, birthplace of the Dervish order, and spent a day wandering around mosques and museums. Karin was told she was dressed inappropriately because her skirt only went down to about 4 inches below her knees.
Next was cappadoccia and we've done a crapload most of which can be best expressed pictorially so I'll maybe give details about this later. I'll say this much though: it's otherworldly. Yesterday we were hiking around and got caught in the rain. WE fuond a rock arch that we were able to shimmy up into and waited it out playing backgrammon.
Here's hoping that the days ahead at least keep pace with those behind!
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Did the Romans really need that many theatres?
It's been a while since my last post and I apologize for that. Time slows when one is at the beach and while a lot has happened ıt doesn't really seem it. I finished War and Peace after a three month battle. It wasn't that I didn't absolutely adore it... the actually story and characters rank probably at the top of anythıng I've ever read... it's just that Tolstoy has this compulsion to bluster repetitively about the nature of history for thirty pages at a time which would each time effectively kill my momentum. Probably a bıgger reason though is that I actually lost the book twice - one turned up a few weeks later in my grandmother's pantry, the other I would like to think has been going back and forth from Toronto to Vienna with Austrian airlines... perhaps ın the handbag of a comely stewardess (the italics indicate how to properly stress the word in this context).
Since then I've notched Atwood's Handmaid's Tale which was interesting but miles behind the Blind Assassin and definitely not warranting the comparisons to 1984 (not to say the world she paints is less horrifyıng or provocatıve, it's just not as well written.) Now I'm halfway through A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius which has been a pretty intense experience (mostly the fırst chapter) it's a memoır by thıs 21 year old named Dave Eggers whose parents both died of cancer within a single month. I was really pissed off at him especially through the preface and to a lesser degree for the first chapter - a combination of resentment at him for seemingly taking away my tragedy and irritation at his obsessive reflexivity. In Chapter 2 though it clicked... you could tell he was more comfortable once he got past describing the deaths themselves (maybe I'm projecting). He really is a terrific writer though.
But that's not what you're interested in. 'He can read at home' is what you're probably thinking. So without further ado: Bursa, Turkey's fourth largest city, was a lot of fun after the initial wandering around for an hour with huge backpacks looking for a manger which we figured after a couple of hotels would be the only thıng available for a reasonable price. We ended up finding a place for about 18 dollars that was pretty comfortable. What was really cool though was that there was this neıghbour who was a vice principal at the local high school who just liked to hang out with tourists and spoke passable English. He took us to this tea house where young and old Bursans gather in the back to jam with traditional folk instruments. What was extra cool was that they gave us all percussion instruments of our own to join in. I must say that Karin and Brent rather lack rhythm. I on the other hand had the party bouncing. Later we went to a Sufi service attended only by local Muslims aside from us and involving Dervishes and very intensely human music involving chanting, what seemed like inuu throat singing, basic precussion, and some very emotive flute playing. It rocked.
From there we went to this place famous for making tiles in the 18th century, then a smallish town on the Aegean coast where we got into and won a fight with a cabbie over fare, although we've been growing less and less sure of our rıghteousness since. The place we stayed was probably the nicest of the entire trip. We were in a huge room in an old greek house with saffron curtains that billowed out from open windows through which it was possible to see all of the boats in the harbour. While we were there some soccer team won something and everyone got very excited. They wouldn't stop honking until 2 in the morning. 2 in the damn morning (I had a headache). Blah blah Effasus and Pergamum... lots of amphıtheatres and theatres and fat British people that in hind sight may just have been monstrous tomatoes pretending to be British people (they were red enough). I've realized that I find ruins pretty boring. I'm only really ınterested in the art at the sites, most of which has been looted, or ıf not, taken out of the sıte to some local museum where it's better preserved but out of context. Now we're in Fetiye and are going on a 4 day blue cruise on a sail boat (which we got for a pretty awesome, though dubiously classifyable as within my budget, 200 dollars). It include meals, water sports, shisha, and a bunch of other stuff. Not alcohol though. I bought some vodka which I need to learn to like pronto.
Hope all is well and sorry to all who have facebook messaged me ın the last couple of days... for whatever reason this computer won't let me log in.
Since then I've notched Atwood's Handmaid's Tale which was interesting but miles behind the Blind Assassin and definitely not warranting the comparisons to 1984 (not to say the world she paints is less horrifyıng or provocatıve, it's just not as well written.) Now I'm halfway through A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius which has been a pretty intense experience (mostly the fırst chapter) it's a memoır by thıs 21 year old named Dave Eggers whose parents both died of cancer within a single month. I was really pissed off at him especially through the preface and to a lesser degree for the first chapter - a combination of resentment at him for seemingly taking away my tragedy and irritation at his obsessive reflexivity. In Chapter 2 though it clicked... you could tell he was more comfortable once he got past describing the deaths themselves (maybe I'm projecting). He really is a terrific writer though.
But that's not what you're interested in. 'He can read at home' is what you're probably thinking. So without further ado: Bursa, Turkey's fourth largest city, was a lot of fun after the initial wandering around for an hour with huge backpacks looking for a manger which we figured after a couple of hotels would be the only thıng available for a reasonable price. We ended up finding a place for about 18 dollars that was pretty comfortable. What was really cool though was that there was this neıghbour who was a vice principal at the local high school who just liked to hang out with tourists and spoke passable English. He took us to this tea house where young and old Bursans gather in the back to jam with traditional folk instruments. What was extra cool was that they gave us all percussion instruments of our own to join in. I must say that Karin and Brent rather lack rhythm. I on the other hand had the party bouncing. Later we went to a Sufi service attended only by local Muslims aside from us and involving Dervishes and very intensely human music involving chanting, what seemed like inuu throat singing, basic precussion, and some very emotive flute playing. It rocked.
From there we went to this place famous for making tiles in the 18th century, then a smallish town on the Aegean coast where we got into and won a fight with a cabbie over fare, although we've been growing less and less sure of our rıghteousness since. The place we stayed was probably the nicest of the entire trip. We were in a huge room in an old greek house with saffron curtains that billowed out from open windows through which it was possible to see all of the boats in the harbour. While we were there some soccer team won something and everyone got very excited. They wouldn't stop honking until 2 in the morning. 2 in the damn morning (I had a headache). Blah blah Effasus and Pergamum... lots of amphıtheatres and theatres and fat British people that in hind sight may just have been monstrous tomatoes pretending to be British people (they were red enough). I've realized that I find ruins pretty boring. I'm only really ınterested in the art at the sites, most of which has been looted, or ıf not, taken out of the sıte to some local museum where it's better preserved but out of context. Now we're in Fetiye and are going on a 4 day blue cruise on a sail boat (which we got for a pretty awesome, though dubiously classifyable as within my budget, 200 dollars). It include meals, water sports, shisha, and a bunch of other stuff. Not alcohol though. I bought some vodka which I need to learn to like pronto.
Hope all is well and sorry to all who have facebook messaged me ın the last couple of days... for whatever reason this computer won't let me log in.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Youth in Asia
Despite the title, most if not all of this entry will be set on the European side of Istanbul, although it is being composed in Bursa (Turkey's fourth largest city... and squarely in Asıa Minor).
Starved for some good ol' Amerıcana I decıded to opt out of the 25 lira whirling Dervish show and opt into Spiderman 3 which surprisingly turned out to have probably been more of a cultural experıance than the other... mostly because I was the only non-turk ın the theatre.
Some observatıons:
-Most of the people in attendance were eıther in theır late teens-early twentıes and ın larger sıngle sex groups, or they were 6 years old, male, and theır wıth theır father who wasn't overly enthusastıc about the whole ordeal.
-It was totally fıne when Toby Maguıre kissed hıs beautıful lab partner thus betrayıng Mary Jane... but when Mary Jane kıssed another man ın a moment of weakness the entıre theatre went up ın arms. I'm not posıtıve what slut ıs ın Turkısh, but I know that I heard ıt.
-There was an ıntermıssıon whıch was handy for me as I can't seem to make ıt through a movıe any more wıthout usıng the bathroom at least one, but whıch came abruptly ın the mıddle of one of the most tense scenes of the movıe... actually ın the mıddle of one of the most ıntense sentences of one of the most ıntsne scenes ın the movıe.
-Everyone laughed at Toby Maguıre when he started to cry when Mary Jane broke up wıth hım (oh ya... uh... retroactıve spoiler warnıng). Maybe they were just laughıng at hıs overactıng.
Movıng on though. The next day was really good. Karın and Brent went off to do theır own thıng and I spent the day plowıng through Franny and Zooey for the second tıme ın the garden just outsıde of the small Hagıa Sophıa (also Byzantıne era church buılt by Justınıan a few years before ıts larger counterpart. It was converted ınto a Mosque after the Ottoman conquest and now ınterestıngly ıs used for both chrıstıan and muslım servıces). I was approached by thıs guy who wanted to have tea wıth me... turned out he was a hıstory teacher and a great resource for ınfo about every aspect of the mosque and cıty ın general. I talked wıth hım for about 2 hours before I had to go and meet Karın and Brent.
That nıght we pretty much just hung out and played backgammon and chess wıth the hotel staff who cooked us some donkey meat (apparently) and lamb. I rocked the chess board and went undefeated the whole nıght (I'd lıke to pre-emptıvely tell Phıl to shut up).
Random anecdote from today: Brent after he attempted to get mustard out of a jar, shakıng ıt to no avaıl for several seconds, he announced 'It's lıke I'm tryıng to jack off Bob Dole'. I thought that was very funny.
Peace and long life,
Ben
Starved for some good ol' Amerıcana I decıded to opt out of the 25 lira whirling Dervish show and opt into Spiderman 3 which surprisingly turned out to have probably been more of a cultural experıance than the other... mostly because I was the only non-turk ın the theatre.
Some observatıons:
-Most of the people in attendance were eıther in theır late teens-early twentıes and ın larger sıngle sex groups, or they were 6 years old, male, and theır wıth theır father who wasn't overly enthusastıc about the whole ordeal.
-It was totally fıne when Toby Maguıre kissed hıs beautıful lab partner thus betrayıng Mary Jane... but when Mary Jane kıssed another man ın a moment of weakness the entıre theatre went up ın arms. I'm not posıtıve what slut ıs ın Turkısh, but I know that I heard ıt.
-There was an ıntermıssıon whıch was handy for me as I can't seem to make ıt through a movıe any more wıthout usıng the bathroom at least one, but whıch came abruptly ın the mıddle of one of the most tense scenes of the movıe... actually ın the mıddle of one of the most ıntense sentences of one of the most ıntsne scenes ın the movıe.
-Everyone laughed at Toby Maguıre when he started to cry when Mary Jane broke up wıth hım (oh ya... uh... retroactıve spoiler warnıng). Maybe they were just laughıng at hıs overactıng.
Movıng on though. The next day was really good. Karın and Brent went off to do theır own thıng and I spent the day plowıng through Franny and Zooey for the second tıme ın the garden just outsıde of the small Hagıa Sophıa (also Byzantıne era church buılt by Justınıan a few years before ıts larger counterpart. It was converted ınto a Mosque after the Ottoman conquest and now ınterestıngly ıs used for both chrıstıan and muslım servıces). I was approached by thıs guy who wanted to have tea wıth me... turned out he was a hıstory teacher and a great resource for ınfo about every aspect of the mosque and cıty ın general. I talked wıth hım for about 2 hours before I had to go and meet Karın and Brent.
That nıght we pretty much just hung out and played backgammon and chess wıth the hotel staff who cooked us some donkey meat (apparently) and lamb. I rocked the chess board and went undefeated the whole nıght (I'd lıke to pre-emptıvely tell Phıl to shut up).
Random anecdote from today: Brent after he attempted to get mustard out of a jar, shakıng ıt to no avaıl for several seconds, he announced 'It's lıke I'm tryıng to jack off Bob Dole'. I thought that was very funny.
Peace and long life,
Ben
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Gobble Gobble Gobble
Ben's in Turkey!
We arrived on the night train from Turnovo a few days ago and have found ourselves a lovely little hotel 5 minutes from the Haghia Sofia with a terrace that looks out over the Sea for only 10 Euros each per night (we're sharing a room but we each have our own bed). It's a pretty good deal in what has turned out to be a surprisingly expensive city. But enough blather... anecdotes:
Yesterday we got up early to go to Shul (synagog) which we identified, after a small amount of searching, by the many massive armed guards and blast shielded doors. The security didn't stop there... we had faxed copies of our passports the night before and now the hard copies were combed over in detail. Our bags were searched item by item even before they were scanned by the metal detector. While doing this they asked questions in a very friendly and bantering tone, but those questions amounted to a grilling about why we were interested in going to the Shul, how we had heard about it, where we had been traveling, how and where we were employed, etc... The reason for the intensity became clear immediately after the service: one of the old men pointed to a bomb scar on the wall behind the bima (dais) and told us about the several attacks that have been made in the past decade. I still felt safe inside, thanks to the security, but as soon as we left the premise I was eager to get a reasonable distance from the building.
Back to the service though: it was very interesting (my first synagog experience). Everyone was very loudly participatory - no reserved humming along to hymns (catholic style... at least by my experience) here... people were basically shouting them out competitively. Brent was shocked when a few prayers were sung in Ladino (the language that Sephardic Jews used to speak in Spain before the inquisition... 500 years ago!). Particularly interesting to me was that it was totally cool to have a regular conversation and wander around the sanctuary as the service was going on (again... quite different from the white-bread christian shame and reserve). I had a really good time thanks largely to Brent's ongoing interpretation of what was happening (pretty much everything but the Ladino bits were in Hebrew and there were no English prayer books), but the fun was only starting... as soon as we had tossed off our prayer shawls we found ourselves being herded upstairs for a veritable kosher feast! Loud toasts and conversation abounded and we met this very nice - and very Jewish - gay couple from San Francisco who had just gotten in the night before. Funnily enough, we've been running into them ever since (literally 3 times since leaving the compound, including in the middle of a tourist packed Topkapi palace).
So that was cool... with the rest of the day we walked around in the neighbourhood across the Golden Horn from where our hotel is (I forget what it's called but it's very cosmopolitan and bursting at the seems... apparently the hub of secular Turkish cultural life). I bought a Kaval (a traditional Turkish musical instrument known as "the instrument of the shepherds) for 20 Lira (16ish dollars) and have resolved to buy a new folk music instrument in each broad region I visit as my souvenir. I'm very excited by this notion even in writing it.
ON the topic of music... as soon as we got back to our neighbourhood that evening we found ourselves in the middle of a huge street based folk-festival with multiple stages as well as roving bands of people smacking drums, playing these awesome double read instruments, and a surprising number of brass instruments. We made our way to the main stage and spent an hour jumping around in circles, arms over each others' shoulders with these very fraternal Turkish men to this ethno-pop group that remarkably, we found out later, are sephardic Jewish and tend to blend Turkish with ladino in their music.
I need to go but, long story short, this continued until we shuffled out under fire works and collapsed into bed leaving the windows open so we could hear the music wafting up from the street, which apparently continued for hours more... though I was comatose in mere minutes.
Totally toasting you in tubular Turkey!
We arrived on the night train from Turnovo a few days ago and have found ourselves a lovely little hotel 5 minutes from the Haghia Sofia with a terrace that looks out over the Sea for only 10 Euros each per night (we're sharing a room but we each have our own bed). It's a pretty good deal in what has turned out to be a surprisingly expensive city. But enough blather... anecdotes:
Yesterday we got up early to go to Shul (synagog) which we identified, after a small amount of searching, by the many massive armed guards and blast shielded doors. The security didn't stop there... we had faxed copies of our passports the night before and now the hard copies were combed over in detail. Our bags were searched item by item even before they were scanned by the metal detector. While doing this they asked questions in a very friendly and bantering tone, but those questions amounted to a grilling about why we were interested in going to the Shul, how we had heard about it, where we had been traveling, how and where we were employed, etc... The reason for the intensity became clear immediately after the service: one of the old men pointed to a bomb scar on the wall behind the bima (dais) and told us about the several attacks that have been made in the past decade. I still felt safe inside, thanks to the security, but as soon as we left the premise I was eager to get a reasonable distance from the building.
Back to the service though: it was very interesting (my first synagog experience). Everyone was very loudly participatory - no reserved humming along to hymns (catholic style... at least by my experience) here... people were basically shouting them out competitively. Brent was shocked when a few prayers were sung in Ladino (the language that Sephardic Jews used to speak in Spain before the inquisition... 500 years ago!). Particularly interesting to me was that it was totally cool to have a regular conversation and wander around the sanctuary as the service was going on (again... quite different from the white-bread christian shame and reserve). I had a really good time thanks largely to Brent's ongoing interpretation of what was happening (pretty much everything but the Ladino bits were in Hebrew and there were no English prayer books), but the fun was only starting... as soon as we had tossed off our prayer shawls we found ourselves being herded upstairs for a veritable kosher feast! Loud toasts and conversation abounded and we met this very nice - and very Jewish - gay couple from San Francisco who had just gotten in the night before. Funnily enough, we've been running into them ever since (literally 3 times since leaving the compound, including in the middle of a tourist packed Topkapi palace).
So that was cool... with the rest of the day we walked around in the neighbourhood across the Golden Horn from where our hotel is (I forget what it's called but it's very cosmopolitan and bursting at the seems... apparently the hub of secular Turkish cultural life). I bought a Kaval (a traditional Turkish musical instrument known as "the instrument of the shepherds) for 20 Lira (16ish dollars) and have resolved to buy a new folk music instrument in each broad region I visit as my souvenir. I'm very excited by this notion even in writing it.
ON the topic of music... as soon as we got back to our neighbourhood that evening we found ourselves in the middle of a huge street based folk-festival with multiple stages as well as roving bands of people smacking drums, playing these awesome double read instruments, and a surprising number of brass instruments. We made our way to the main stage and spent an hour jumping around in circles, arms over each others' shoulders with these very fraternal Turkish men to this ethno-pop group that remarkably, we found out later, are sephardic Jewish and tend to blend Turkish with ladino in their music.
I need to go but, long story short, this continued until we shuffled out under fire works and collapsed into bed leaving the windows open so we could hear the music wafting up from the street, which apparently continued for hours more... though I was comatose in mere minutes.
Totally toasting you in tubular Turkey!
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