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Contrasts in the Historic Bordeaux Region of Southern France

 France, Travel  4 Responses »
Jun 102011
 

Straight out of the past, a couple and their dog paddle past the ancient town of Guitres.

Ancient and pastoral, two words that provide context for this idyllic, gently rolling, forested, countryside of old vineyards, older farms and even older, tiny villages. This is the south of France. Ornate steeples of 11th and 12th century churches tower over the cramped, cobblestone streets and stone houses as they have, seemingly unchanged for a millennium.

A stone bridge spans a river, dense forest lining its banks, as young boys fish for the big ones we see swimming below. A couple in a small, wooden bateau passes under the bridge. The longhaired man stands at the stern, propelling the boat with its single oar. But for the tee shirts and shorts, it could be a scene from any time in the past 500 years.

L'Isle and the countryside around Guitres'.

Entering the town on foot, it appears dormant, the houses shuttered, the streets empty but for three, old men at an outdoor table down the block. Fortunately, the small, modern patisserie on the tiny square is open, allowing us to appease our appetites with fabulous French pastries and chocolates.

This is Guitres, an ancient town on the Isle River. The 11th century abbey, Notre Dame de Guitres, is world famous for its acoustics. Unfortunately, the concert season, with an a capella vocal ensemble, doesn’t begin for another two weeks. To hear unaccompanied voices singing Gregorian chant and Renaissance vocal music in the sparse darkness and vaulted setting of Guitres’ church would be close to heaven.

The Abbey of Notre Dame in Guitres

A typical village cemetary with its ancient church in a tiny village near Guitres'.

Our rented car gives us flexibility to explore. With a sudden change to blustery weather, a day in the city of Bordeaux seems appropriate. The old city center is another UNESCO World Heritage Site. Our hosts at the farm/b&b recommend a park and ride north of the city that, for three Euros, provides parking and tram tickets. Such a deal!

The wide, muddy Garonne River splits the city and provides easy access to the sea. Bordeaux has been an important port for centuries-France’s primary debarkation point for early trade with the America’s. Vast quantities of wine were shipped from here. Enormous fortunes were made, not just from wine, but sadly slaves as well.

One of Bordeaux's stylish and efficient trams.

Along the Quai de la Douane and the Garonne River.

Departing the tram at the Stalingrad stop allows us to walk across the Pont de Pierre, the bridge spanning the river, for the full impact of Bordeaux’s elegant, centuries-old riverfront. Grand, 18th century, four-story buildings line the river for miles. Only the steeples of churches and cathedrals punctuate this magnificent façade as they rise above the warren of streets and alleys behind the riverfront.

One of the gates into the old city in Bordeaux.

The Cathédrale St André at the end of the Rue Vital-Carles in Bordeaux old city.

The interior of Cathédrale Saint-André de Bordeau

Wandering the busy, stately streets, we find the elegant flying buttresses of the Cathédrale Saint-André de Bordeaux and turn left to visit the Musée d’Aquitaine to learn something of the history of the region. The museum is a wealth of historical information. With evidence of ancestral human occupation reaching back as far as a staggering 700,000 years, the archeological record is rich. Several caves in the region yielded Neanderthal artifacts dating back 30,000 years while other caves, including the famous one at Lascaux, contain Paleolithic paintings estimated at over 17,000 years old.

Paleo-lithic tools at least 30,000 year old.

Here again, Rome left its impressive mark. The museum’s collection reflects this past with much Roman sculpture, glass and mosaics. Turbulent centuries followed the slow collapse of the empire.

A bronze, Roman Hercules.

Bordeaux didn’t begin to come into its own until the middle ages when Eleanor of Aquitaine married Henri Plantagenet who shortly thereafter became King Henry II of England. The many Romanesque churches of the city are clear evidence of this growth. Bordeaux’s golden age though, came with the 18th century when it became the focus of commerce with the New World.

A beautiful, marble bust of some 18th century archbishop. Such elegant craftsmanship.

Sadly, Bordeaux profited greatly from the slave trade. It was a hub of the triangular trade with the new world. This African carving is festooned with actual chains used in the despicable trade.

Leaving the museum, we find the old city center and stroll through the alleys and pedestrian streets checking out the enticing patisseries and chocolateries. In one, you could get high just breathing the chocolate fumes!

Another of the gates to the old city which is now entirely a pedestrian area.

I hear clapping and cheering coming from an extremely, crowded, corner store and go to investigate. It’s the opening day of Bordeaux’s first Apple Store!

Apple's grand opening in Bordeaux.

Outside the Musee' de Beaux Arts.

Lord knows why they were dressed like this.

The altar area of the Notre Dame de Bordeaux.

Continuing our stroll, we find broad, tree-lined avenues with luxurious homes built by 18th century wine merchants. The avenues open to the riverfront quay-a grand, stately promenade of reflecting pools, gardens and elegant buildings.

 

Homes of the wealthy leading to the Grand Theater of Bordeaux.

Toward late afternoon, the streets got really busy!

The wonderful reflection pool in front of the Place de la Bourse along the Garonne.

Ending our day, the quay leads us back to the tram and eventually our car for the forty-minute drive through the ancient villages, vineyards and quiet country roads to the farm/b&b where we are staying.

Copyright 2011 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com

 

 

 Posted by at 3:14 pm  Tagged with: , , , , , ,

Portugal’s Beautiful Capitol Lisbon and the Incredible UNESCO World Heritage Site of Sintra

 Portugal, Travel  No Responses »
May 262011
 

Lisbon's Moorish inspired Campo Pequeno bullring,

Admittedly, six nights is dismally inadequate to explore Portugal. Here you have a country whose archeological history goes back some 30,000 years, a lush, varied, sun-drenched land settled by the Phoenicians, Romans, Visigoths, and Moors-long-ago ancestors of the current Portuguese people. A month, really, should be a minimum, but for various reasons, Yolanda and I were limited to this short time before traveling in southern France.

There is an entire western and southern Atlantic coastline to explore, replete with isolated beaches, magnificent cliffs and ancient, languid towns. There are mountain ranges rising to the east with the Spanish border only 175 miles from the western coast. More than anything though, there is the Portuguese cultural heritage, a unique and sometimes fantastic conglomeration of Roman, Moorish, Spanish, English and Catholic influences that has survived and at times, thrived since the expulsion of Islam in the 13th century.

The Alfama

Lisbon is a bustling, cosmopolitan, capitol city. From its broad, tree-lined avenues, punctuated by monumental monuments to Portugal’s heroes and history, to the tiny, twisting, cobbled lanes of hilly Alfama, Lisbon is a delight to explore. Buy a four Euro day pass for its metro, busses and anachronistically, iconic trams and explore to your heart’s content.

Riding Tram 28 along the narrow street of the Alfama.

Traditionally tiled building are common place in Lisbon. Here, an elderly couple keep an eye watch the comings and goings of their Alfama neighborhood.

Hop aboard Tram 28 for several hours of rattling up and down the hills of Alfama and the Barrio Alto. In the narrow street the tram misses by inches parked cars, people and the corners of houses. You can hop on and off to take in the magnificent viewpoints, eat at a street side café, experience the calm of exquisite centuries-old churches or explore the ancient castle sitting atop Alfama. Here, miradouros amidst a park-like setting of stone walls and parapets offer panoramic vistas of the city below.

 

The Tejos estuary from one of the miradouros in the Alfama.

From Lisbon’s vast Tejos River estuary, Portuguese 15th and 16th century explorers like Vasco de Gama embarked on their journeys of discovery. Facing what for them was the complete unknown, they opened the west and east coasts of Africa, the Straits of Hormuz, India, Ceylon, the spice islands of Indonesia and Malaysia as well as China and Japan. This brought European commerce and sometimes Portuguese domination to the regions.

The gateway to Lisbon's waterfront.

The plato do dia is an excellent value for dinner at the sidewalk cafes of Rossio.

At the same time, other Portuguese sailors happened upon the east coast of South America. They determined it was actually a vast continent rather than just islands as Columbus thought and established the huge holding that would eventually become Brazil.

The unique portal to the Rossio train station.

The ornate tower of Sintra's town hall.

For Yolanda and I though, the attraction of big cities pales to that of small towns, especially towns with an architectural heritage so interesting and fantastic as that of Sintra. Sintra is a short half-hour train ride from Lisbon’s centrally located Rossio train station. At less than 4 Euros round trip, the train is a bargain and makes an easy day trip. But with so much to experience an overnight, even two nights, is a must.

A sculpture exhibition adorns the road from the train station to the historic center of Sintra. The chimneys of the royal palace are in the background.

In the historic center of Sintra.

The small, historical center of Sintra, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, is a romance of hills, narrow, cobbled lanes, lush vegetation and art. Tiny cafes serving the freshest seafood are tucked into its many corners. The ancient, stone, walls and towers of a Moorish castle and the fantastic palace of Portugal’s 19th century monarchs, Palacio de Pena, loom on hilltops high above the town. Parks, trails and roads rise into the verdant hills above the village. The forest reminds me very much of coastal Oregon.

The Quinta da Regaliera.

For centuries, Sintra has been a summer retreat for Royalty and the wealthy. Incredible palaces and mansions, some now hotels, peak through the dense foliage of the hillsides. Yolanda and I spend one amazing afternoon exploring perhaps the most fantastical, the Quinta da  Regaliera. Luigi Manini, a well-known Italian architect and opera set designer for his wealthy patron, Carvalho Monteiro, designed it around the turn of the 19th century. Manini devoted fourteen years to creating a mythical landscape out of the many acres of wooded hillside.

The Entry.

The entry to Leda's Cave.

Paths wander throughout forest. Surprises lurk around every; fountains, caves, waterfalls, and towered, stone fortresses. We descend the circular stair set into the wall of the Initiatic Well eighty-eight feet to a mosaic floor. Dark caverns lead in various directions that eventually open onto other incredible scenes. I can imagine the pseudo-mystical ceremonies played out by torchlight operatically staged for the guest’s benefit.

The eighty-eight foot deep Initiatic Well.

One exit from the tunnels leading from the Initiatic Well.

Another exit from the Initiatic Well.

Ponds, aquariums and elegant fountains are set amidst an arboretum type landscape. Statued terraces and a lovely chapel are staged among the greenery. Labyrinthine grottos twist their way through the rocks.

The Quinta da Regaleira is a masterwork of fantastic landscape and architectural design.

Copyright 2010 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com

 Posted by at 6:30 pm  Tagged with: , ,

Winter At Our Western Colorado Off Grid Hideaway-Hummingbird Knob

 Hummingbird Knob  2 Responses »
Mar 082011
 

Hummingbird Knob

This year, Yolanda and I will celebrate our tenth anniversary purchasing our cabin and land in Western Colorado, Hummingbird Knob. We constantly remark that this is the best thing we’ve ever done in our lives. Of all the many properties Yolanda has owned over the years, none, has effected her life so dramatically and none is more valuable in non-monetary terms.

During these ten years, we’ve taken the land from being a remote piece of never used wilderness with a shell of a cabin visited solely by mice, flies and the flickers who poked holes in the walls chasing them, to a lovely, remote, cozy little cabin in the woods.

We have lived there for as much as seven months continuously; spring through fall. In winter, we visit for about 4-5 days each month. It’s a bit too difficult, though not impossible, to live there full time during the winter months. It would require lots of firewood especially on those nights like last week when it got down to 17 below zero Fahrenheit.

Every season has its unique beauty. I have never known it to be anything but beautiful. One friend, who visited in early spring, experienced a storm complete with dramatic, daytime displays of thunder and lightning. He said that no matter the weather, it’s always beautiful. And that’s the truth.

It is beautiful, whether it be the profusion of wildflowers and intense greens of spring with the creek raging in flood; the warm, occasionally hot, languid days of summer that bring the ripening of the choke cherries and, our favorite, the-much better than blueberries-serviceberries; the brilliant color of fall with its shortening, indian summer days and golden Aspen, scarlet Gambel Oaks, orange Hawthorne and bright yellow Cottonwoods; or the intensely quiet, pristine landscape of snow-covered trees and frozen creek following a winter storm.

In a phrase: We are blessed.

The Knob, being visited by one of the many elk wintering on our land. Five elk initially were on the knob before I took this. As I approached on snowshoes, this single sentry remained, barking her warning. They sound exactly like dogs.

Our neighbor runs cattle in the fall on the hayfields above our land and drives them down to lower pastures when the snow gets to deep.

We have the privilege of accessing our neighbors 600 acres. The 360 degree view, isolation and utter serenity in winter is, to say the least, marvelousl.

Ermina and her family are year-round residents, turning tan in summer. She's an Ermine.

I've been building a portfolio of snow and ice formations I find on our creek:

Porky hangs out in the oaks, napping safely in the branches to conserve energy during the winter. When I took this, after noisily bushwacking on snowshoes through the thicket, his attitude was one of, "Aw come on. Can't you just let me nap in peace?"

On the middle bench: Gambel Oaks, Serviceberry bushes and a Blue Spruce, typical of much of our land.

Well over one hundred aspens populate our small aspen grove.

A view from our deck: Blue Spruce during a gentle, winter storm.

Three young spruce on the creek bench.

Wild turkeys are frequent visitors in the spring, summer and fall, but rare in winter.

I found Rocky trying to get at my bird feeders one gorgeous, January day.

Looking down from the deck to the creek bench.

My Playhouse, uh, I mean, my office.

My Playhouse, uh, I mean my office.

Nana's Cabin, our guest cabin on the upper bench. We built it as a memorial to Yolanda's mother and contains some furniture, books, knic-knacks and pictures that belonged to her.

The interior of Nana's Cabin. With it's small loft, containing a queen mattress and futon, it sleeps four.

Our solar shower gets little use in the winter for obvious reasons.

A view from the deck after a fresh snowfall.

Copyright 2010 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com

 Posted by at 1:29 pm  Tagged with: , , , ,

CEA’s Astounding Consumer Electronics Show

 Consumer Electronics Show, Travel  1 Response »
Jan 122011
 

The crowds in part of Samsung's huge booth provide a small perspective on the hoards attending CES.

CEA, the Consumer Electronics Association has been a client of mine for quite a while now. They are the organization that puts on the enormous Consumer Electronics Show every year in Las Vegas. It is one of the largest trade shows in the world and certainly the most important in the field of consumer electronics. In all the years I’ve photographed for CEA, my schedule never permitted me to attend CES. Personally knowing many of the exhibitors and having been exposed to their businesses, their philosophies and to CEA, couldn’t prepare me for the onslaught to the senses embodied in the CES. It is, in one word, astounding, in two, beyond comprehension. Over 2,700 exhibitors take over not just the enormous 3.2 million square feet of the Las Vegas Convention Center, but the Hilton Convention Center next door, the Venetian’s Convention Center, and numerous other venues around the city. The logistics is staggering. Over 125,000 people from literally all over the planet attend. Exhibitors range from tiny startup hopefuls in 10×10 booths to giants like Samsung, Panasonic, LG, Ford, Intel, Microsoft, Sony and many more with extremely sophisticated, humongous displays likely covering several tens of thousands of square feet. Trying to see everything is an exercise in futility. On a sensory level, it is overwhelming. The following is simply a taste of what I experienced beginning with my flight on January 6th from Denver to Vegas. With my face continually pressed to my window on the northern side of the plane, the flight was an amazing prelude to an astounding experience.

(Scroll down to see the images.)

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I’m leaving Denver for the huge Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas shortly after sunrise. Flying west then west-southwest over the mountains after a clearing winter storm provides spectacular views as the clouds clear just east of the continental divide. Fresh snow blankets the mountains. One beautiful scene after another unfolds beneath. Visibility goes for what, a hundred miles? At least!

The knife-edge ridges of the Gore Range, tinged pink from the morning sun rise dramatically from their steep, cloud-shrouded valleys. Next, the glistening, pristine white runs of Vail, well-defined clear cuts through the dark trees of the slopes flow past. Following Vail, the familiar runs of Beaver Creek unfold, my house in Singletree clearly visible across the valley.

We turn slightly south as Cordillera, Brush Creek and Eagle, then Gypsum slide by. The dark, depths of Glenwood Canyon hide the interstate while the vast expanse of the snow-covered Flattops stretch to the north. Next, the town of Carbondale and the Roaring Fork Valley extend north to its terminus at Glenwood Springs followed by low mountains and valleys little known to me. The familiar flat expanse of the ranches south of Silt appear; a short cut through which we frequently drive to our cabin outside Collbran.

The 12,000’ heights of Battlement Mesa rise just to the north and then there it is, Vega Lake and three short miles northwest, a tiny ribbon of white leads to my beloved Hummingbird Knob, our cabin in the woods. Carlyle Currier’s empty hayfields above our land are snow-shrouded, brilliant and lonely.

The familiar ranches surrounding Collbran and the Plateau Valley slide past before the extreme northwest tip of 10,000’ Grand Mesa appears, very flat and stark white above the shear, 5,000 foot drops off its flanks.

Next, there’s the cityscape of Grand Junction and its namesake confluence of the Colorado and Gunnison rivers, the town flanked on the southwest by the red-rock mesas and canyons of Colorado Monument.

The flat plateaus south and west of Junction give way to the convoluted canyons northeast of the Monte La Sals, the mountains just southwest of Moab. The lazy, goosenecks of the Colorado River appear, deep within the bounding red-rock cliffs whose  broad mesas extend into the pinnacles, bluffs and convoluted folds of Arches National Park. Then, as we fly southwest through the dramatic, tortured wilds of south-central Utah, one after another in slow, stately procession, the national parks of Canyonlands, Capitol Reed, Escalante, and Bryce are clearly delineated in the vastness.

Distant mountains and ranges lay in to the north and west. Vast plains, empty, expanses of white, separate the ranges.

Finally, just before flying out of the mountains and valleys of Southern Utah into the deserts of Nevada, the deep, red-rock canyon of Zion, in all its glory, white and red and dark, dark green, lie literally at my feet. The blank, steep, red walls of it’s western sister, Kolub Canyon, are just to the north with the vast ridge of Cedar Breaks even farther.

St. George and the confluence of the Virgin River and I-15 appear, the interstate and its broad valley disappearing in the distant north amidst the jumble of mountains. Red mountains on St. George’s west rise sharply from it city roots.

Again mountains, this time cut deeply by the Virgin River and I-15, end abruptly at the tiny, extreme northwestern slice of Arizona. Appearing out of the desert is the gambling/retirement town of Mesquite, on the Arizona and Nevada border, then briefly the agricultural valley of Moapa flows beneath with its towns of Logandale and Overtone. Just to the west, the unmistakeable, crimson rock of Valley of Fire State Park erupts from the surrounding, drab reddish rock of the north shore of Lake Mead.

We cross the sparkling, deep-azure waters of Lake Mead, crisp in contrast to the tortuous, barren, surrounding rock and mountains. Its sharply defined, chalk-like bathtub ring defines high-water some years before, clear proof of the recent years of low precipitation in the Southwest. Flying along the lake’s southern shore, the slender thread of Hoover Dam appears, a fragile bulwark to the enormous pressure unceasingly  pressing against it.

And finally, to the dam’s north and just before landing, the bankrupt, empty terraces interspersed throughout the development of Lake Las Vegas gives lie to the illusion of unlimited growth, clear proof of the broken dreams in this, the foreclosure capitol of America.

A small part of Panasonic's booth featuring the 3D TVs. The large TV in the middle, at 152 inches, is, I believe the largest HD 3D display in existence.

A part of Microsoft's exhibition. Note the TV studio on the upper level. Several exhibitors had their own broadcast facilities incorporated into their booths.

A very few of some of the "smaller" exhibitors.

Part of Dolby's booth. Of course, their home theater sound displays were very impressive.

Entering Motorola's booth.

2011 is the year of the tablet. Scores and scores of tablets were introduced. Motorola's new tablet running on Android's latest Honeycomb OS generated a lot of buzz. They wouldn't let me touch it though.

NBC Universal's huge booth...

...had this large gaming/karaoke space inside the booth...

And they did live broadcasts as well.

Here's another someone doing live telecasts from the show floor. Media was everywhere. Many where using small, hand-held videos cameras so they could post directly to their blogs.

A video portal into Samsung's display.

Samsung's new ultra-thin TV, I think it was a 72" and only about 1" thick.

And there were cars and thousands of things you can buy for your car...

Like mobile sound.

The new, beautifully, sleek Audi E-Tron...

And more cars of all vintages.

More high-end mobile sound from former CEA Board Chairman Loyd Ivey's Mitek Corporation.

Maybe you just want a little driving game for your rec room...

Perhaps a driving game for your kids...

Or maybe you'd prefer an electric powered, remote-controlled skateboard...

Or play with controlling some robot balls with your iPhone...

Or build your own personal robot.

How about more grown up robots, say to defuse that bomb or plug that radioactive leak in your kitchen...

Or just to vacuum your floor.

Wanna Hook Up? Beautiful models were in booth after booth after booth after booth.

So what's new with Polaroid?

They've got Lady Gaga! She's somewhere in that throng announcing a new line of products...

The Lady Gaga camera, instant bluetooth printer and Gaga glasses camera. Wonder what they paid her?

Probably two hundred booths had cases for iPads, iPhones computers and everything else electronic. I thought I could make a statement with one of these cases for my iPhone.

There were all kinds of interestingly designed gadgets for the home and office of the future.

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Dozens and dozens of new products in every category won Innovation Awards for Design and Engineering.

There were loads of hands-on displays for new technologies.

Intel's 3D art creation station. One of a couple of dozen hands-on products you could test in Intel's huge booth.

A representative from Dreamworks telling about using Intel's new 2nd generation core processors in the production of their hit movie, Megamind.

Sharp's new Aquos and Quatron four-color HD and 3D TV's were spectacular.

And then there was Sony's humongous 3D display. I think it was somewhere around 15-20 feet high and 80 feet long. Or maybe just 10x60, who knows, but you could view it with standard 3D glasses instead of the expensive proprietary glasses needed for other manufacturers. The others were better though.

Maybe all you want is your own personal 3D TV. I didn't like it much though

Gary Shapiro, President and CEO of the Consumer Electronics Association, signing his new book, "Comeback-How Innovation Will Restore the American Dream" Gary is somewhat of a hero to me. He is brilliant, whip-smart, an excellent, articulate speaker, a visionary and deeply devoted to the CE industry. His wife, Mal, is beautiful and brilliant as well, and both are down to earth, genuinely warm people.

And when you're exhausted from standing and walking and need to collapse from the sheer overload, the world's most comfortable and sophisticated recliner is available for testing. I think they must have had a time limit.

Copyright 2010 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com

 Posted by at 10:54 am  Tagged with: , , , , , ,

Turkey VIII-From the World’s Busiest Street to Deep In the Mountains of Eastern Turkey

 Travel, Turkey  3 Responses »
Dec 052010
 

Istiklal Caddesi

Bidding our new friends goodbye, Yolanda and I set out on our own. We remain in Istanbul for a couple of days to decide how we’ll spend our final two weeks and are astounded that no hotel room is available in the city! We end up on the fifth floor of a hostel, ninety steps up, (I counted them), in Beyoğlu, Istanbul’s most fashionable area.

View of part of Beyoğlu from our rooftop terrace

Beyoğlu is a different world. The crowded, narrow streets below our rooftop terrace are wall to wall with restaurants and bars. It’s Friday and they bustle with life.

We enjoy a delicious, shrimp dinner at one of the hundreds of sidewalk cafes, people watching throughout the meal. Afterwards, unawares, we set out to explore the area, stumbling headlong into the teeming hoards promenading Istiklal.

Along one of the many narrow streets leading to Istiklal Caddesi

The cramped, café-lined alleys contrast dramatically with Istiklal Caddesi, Independence Avenue, probably the busiest walking street in the world. Istiklal is a broad, cosmopolitan avenue, several miles long. It is flanked wall to wall by architecture from older eras; Ottoman, Neo-Classical, Neo-gothic, Beaux-Arts and Art Noveau. Brightly lit, fashionable, stores, theaters, boutiques and restaurants line the street.

Istiklal is visited by as many as six million people over a weekend. I can believe it. Day or night, people throng it’s length. Night though, brings out the masses, a constant, unceasing, never slacking parade between the Galata Tower and Taksim Square. A quaint, iconic, historical tram plows daringly through the crowd, passengers hanging out its doors.

Things really don’t get started in Beyoğlu before nine and don’t stop until sometime around four or five in the morning. Music and conversation fills the streets. Amazingly, we sleep, waking only briefly to the loud, weekend festivities below.Istiklal Caddesi during the day

A fish monger displays today's catch along one the narrow streets of Beyoğlu

I found this beautiful display of produce at one of the many narrow intersections in the maze of alleys

An outdoor cafe, crowded even early Sunday morning

A cobbler plying his trade near the Galata Tower

We decide to catch a plane to the northeastern city of Erzurum. The mountains to its north with their thousand year-old Georgian monasteries and churches beckon. The city lies at over 6,000 feet and happens to be at the foot of Mt. Palandöken, Turkey’s premiere ski area, though it’s to early for skiing.

The Atatürk memorial in Erzurum's main intersection

The ornately decorated 14th century Seljuk mosque in Erzurum with it's beautiful and unusual minaret

Even though Erzurum was an ancient stop on the Silk Road and contains over 320 cultural landmarks, it is quite modern with broad, tree-lined avenues and colorful apartment buildings. Atatürk University provides a youthful air. The streets are filled with students. We are approached several times by students wishing to help us and practice their English.

Something else that surprises me is the pedestrian crossing lights. They’re snowboarders! What fun! I also notice a huge ski jumping venue under construction close to the university. It seems that Erzurum is to host the 2011 Universiade, the winter university games, the winter “Olympics” for college students from around the world.Advertisements like this for the Universidade are embedded into the floor of the waiting room at Erzurum's airport

The most enormous cabbages I've ever seen in my life!!!

I’m surprised that headscarves aren’t more in evidence. This is after all, eastern Turkey, a very traditional region. Two reasons may account for this: first, Erzurum is where Atatürk, in 1919, laid the foundations for national unity and a modern Turkey: second, the secular state Atatürk established, banned the wearing of headscarves in government buildings and universities.

Devout students wearing headscarves must remove them before entering the gates. This is a cause of much anger within the Muslim community and also denies government employment and an education to women who feel it their duty as a devout Muslim, to cover their heads. This issue was addressed through a referendum process that took place just prior to our arrival in Turkey but any changes have yet to be implemented.

The height of Islamic fashion displayed in a store window

Erzurum and the surrounding region have played a significant role throughout history. Not only was it main stop on the Silk Road, but archeologists have found evidence of occupation going back 8,000 years. The Erzurum museum has impressive displays of artifacts and pottery from prehistoric through Byzantine times. A side room displays a number of carvings and a beautiful, decorated bell from the Georgian churches we hope to visit in the mountain valleys.

An Eastern Anatolian, Transcaucasian Ceramic pot from around 2,000 BCE

Stone ornament from an ancient Georgian church

Detail of one of the Georgian bells

We spend two nights in Erzurum before heading north to the town of Yusefeli deep in the mountains of the northeast. I want to rent a car. That makes Yolanda nervous so we opt for a three-hour trip on a thirty-passenger bus, overcrowded with at least forty-five people

Taking a break in the mountains between Erzurum and Yusefeli

Once again, I’m surprised at the treeless slopes. Ancient, tectonic activity is obvious and everywhere. The mountains are a tortuous jumble of volcanic rock cut deeply by water-worn valleys. I meet a mountain guide on the bus who speaks excellent English. He describes his life guiding groups of trekkers from around the world. Not only does he guide in the Kaçkar Mountains with Kaçkar Dağı, the highest peak at 12,917 ft, but he also leads multi-day treks up Turkey’s most famous mountain, 16,854 foot, biblical Mt. Ararat, of Noah’s ark fame, ten miles from the Iranian border.

Our ultimate destination is Barhal, a tiny village the guidebook describes as a jumping off point for trekking, rafting, kayaking and hunting. Arriving in Yusefeli, we catch a minibus to Barhal. Bumping along the one lane, gravel road, barely attached to the mountain with precipitous drops to the river, Yolanda is terrified as the driver races to pass a car. Fortunately, this lasts only a few minutes and the driver slows to a reasonable speed for the rest of the hour and a half trip.

I swear, this must be the Garden of Eden. Lush orchards and terraced gardens rise steeply up the mountainsides and line the river. Every type of fruit, vegetable and nut grow in profusion. Perhaps this is the source of the enormous, seven-foot diameter cabbages we encountered in Erzurum.

These rich valleys have been occupied for thousands of years. Sadly, a dam is slated for construction in the next few years, shutting off this Eden and displacing the tens of thousands living in these spectacular, mountain valleys.

It’s getting dark as the van deposits us at Karakan Pension. The owner’s nephew puts our bags on a flying-fox type of contraption, bangs on the cable, and they disappear up the mountain into the dense foliage. He guides us in the gathering gloom up a steep series of paths and stairways to the terrace of the farm/pension.Climbing even more steep flights from the terrace restaurant, we are shown a clean, sparse, perfectly adequate room. Dinner that evening is one of the best of our trip: fresh, organic vegetables, fruits, rice, delicious, grilled fish and baskets, overflowing with bread. Again, way too much food.Barhal. There were lots of newly constructed homes around the valley like the one in the center

Morning brings another huge breakfast and we’re off to explore. Adjacent to the pension is a deserted, thousand year-old Georgian monastery. Across the valley on a high ridge, the ruins of a small church sit stark against the sky. Here, finally, coniferous trees fill the mountainsides.

A farmhouse sits perched above the road in a magnificent setting

It’s a beautiful, late summer day. Yolanda and I spend hours walking the deserted roads, down one valley and up another. In the afternoon, we relax in the village and enjoy tea on a tiny veranda restaurant situated over a small brook. The owner insists on showing me the hunting licenses of people from around the world he’s guided along with photos of the animals they’ve bagged; a few bear and several ibex, one with horns so large they tower over the hunter standing beside his kill.A farmhouse typical of the region

The market in Barhal

The Barhal Skyline

Late in the day, even though tired, I’m determined to hike to the ruins high up on the ridge. The owner describes the path and I’m off.

The Karahan Pension with the 10th century monastery.

It’s steep, but the trail is obvious. The views get better the higher I go. The long, steep valley the pension is in comes into focus and is more populated than I realized. It is a bit disconcerting to run across fresh bear scat in the middle of the trail. I’m used to this at our cabin in Colorado and take my precautions but I am after all in Turkey, alone and way out there.Yup, bear scat all right. And it's pretty fresh!

The ruins sit on a broad, cleared point at the conjunction of three valleys with 360-degree views. Higher mountains surround me. It has clouded up. Rain and lighting cross a range not unlike the Gore Range above Vail at home. The sun briefly breaks through, allowing me a few decent photographs. As it sets behind a peak, I descend in the gathering twilight to marvel at the opportunities I’ve been afforded.

Barhal is far below. Yusefeli is down the valley some twenty miles away. This is will all be covered with water when they build the dam.

In these remote, ancient mountains, surrounded by such deep, rich history, and so far from the intense bustle of one of the world’s most venerable cities, I recall the warm, selfless hospitality of the people we’ve met. I am so fortunate to have been able to dialog with people from such an age-old culture and whose religion is at the heart of the world’s conflicts.

What is evident is that, on a personal level, their hopes and aspirations for their much-beloved children and their country are no different than ours. They wish for peace, desire it intensely, that the succeeding generations, male and female, may grow up in a world that fosters their abilities and provides opportunities to achieve their human and spiritual potential.

Copyright 2010 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com

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Turkey VII-Back to Istanbul and Sad Farewells: Samanyolu TV, Kimse Yok Mu Charity, Zaman Newspapers, Bakiad Association and Fatih University

 Travel, Turkey  1 Response »
Nov 272010
 

Checking out the gold in the Grand Bazaar

We have to beat feet to Ankara. Our plane leaves for Istanbul at nine and it’s a four hour drive from Cappodocia.

Unfortunately we arrive after dark in Turkey’s capitol city. I can’t see much. It appears from it’s highways, a very modern capitol. The freeway to the airport is broad, with bright, blue, neon displays every kilometer or so.

The airport itself, with its architecturally stunning and spacious, marbled public areas, is worthy of any capitol city in the world.

We arrive at the Sabiha Gokcen Airport south of Istanbul in Asia rather than Atatürk International on the west and in Europe. On the bus from the plane to the terminal I meet a Turk who speaks excellent English. He’s a colonel in the Turkish army and a graduate of West Point. We chat only briefly but after reading several book on Turkish politics I yearn for a real conversation to gain his unique perspective.

It takes another hour and a half to reach the Grand Anka Hotel where we will spend our last three nights. At this late hour the trip is long and uneventful other than crossing the beautiful Bosphorus Bridge as the tens of thousands of colored lights ringing its cables and superstructure put on an ever changing light show.

Our final days with the group, who is now more family than simply co-travelers, are spent meeting with various media, charitable and professional associations as well as exploring Istanbul’s famous bazaars.

Our first stop after breakfast, is Fatih University, an inter-faith college and the alma mater of Serkan’s wife, Nooran, who we finally meet. She needs to pickup some paperwork for their upcoming three-year sojourn in America.

Serkan and his lovely wife, Nooran

Mustafa Yücel of Fatih University

We meet with one of the administrators and, true to form, our erudite group peppers him with questions about education at the university level in Turkey and Fatih in particular. Fatih is a Gülen inspired institution and draws students from around the globe. I believe seventy-five countries are represented. Classes take place in English.  The university is young and only now providing graduate-level courses.

Our group at Fatih University with gifts, more books.

Our next stop is Zaman, one of Turkey’s leading newspapers and the only with an English language edition. Zaman’s modern building is architecturally interesting with a visually stunning interior atrium rising seven stories to an open skylight. Offices circle the brightly-lit interior while floor to ceiling windows allow a view into the bustle of the newsrooms.

The stunning interior of the Zaman building

Meeting with Karim Balcı, one of the editors

A view into a part of the newsroom, some with headscarves, some without.

Security measures at Zaman's entrance

An interesting point that opened my eyes to the danger Al Qaeda poses beyond the U.S. we learned from our conversation with the editor: Because of Zaman’s stance as a moderate Islamic newspaper and its vocal condemnation of terrorism, the military recommended security measures be taken. Zaman’s building is now surrounded by high fences, cameras and guards; it’s underground parking protected from car bombs by moveable barriers.

In one of the main corridors of the Grand Bazaaar

Amazingly, we have a free afternoon to spend in the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Bazaar. Several of us spend hours wandering the maze of over 4,000 shops lining the crowded, noisy corridors and narrow alleys of the ancient bazaar. Certainly it’s touristy, with trinkets and geegaws alongside finely-made leather jackets, quality silks, beautiful, hand-made carpets and exquisite fabrics.

The entrance to a shop in the section of the Grand Bazaar devoted to fabrics

If you can’t find it inside, then it’s likely sold in the warren of streets we encounter while trying to find the Spice Bazaar. Thousands more shops bustle with with activity; Turks here rather than tourists.

The two bazaars appear much closer on the map than in reality and after a few wrongs turns we stumble upon the entrance and unmistakable aromas of the Spice Bazaar. It is a delight to the senses, even more than its larger cousin. Elaborate displays of colorful spices, nuts and candies line the aisles, each stall competing for eyeballs and noses. Signs proclaiming “Iranian Saffron”… and “Turkish Viagra” vie for our attention.

One of my architectural clients in Vail told me I must look up a friend with a shop here. I find it without much trouble, opening its door, one of only a few stores with doors, and step from the noise and crowds into the quiet, lightly-scented interior. I find a store selling much higher quality merchandise than most.

I ask for Tahir but am introduced to his brother, Ibrahim, instead. Tahir is out of town, he tells me, visiting their family’s home town of Nigde! Nigde of all places!! The small town in central Anatolia where we received such an overwhelming reception only two nights before! Talk about coincidences.

Ibrahim invites us downstairs into a basement world of fine carpets, fabrics and clothes where, true to form, we share tea and customary Turkish hospitality.

Esra Tur at Kimse Yok Mu explains in excellent English some of the programs undertaken by the charity

Our last day together begins with a visit to a Gülen-inspired charity, Kimse Yok Mu, “Is anybody there?”, the name based upon a cry from a victim trapped in Turkey’s 1999 earthquake.

Afterward, we stop at Samanyolu, among Turkey’s highest-rated TV networks. Here, we are told, they strive to provide quality programming that is in some way uplifting or family oriented. As well, they over-dub popular shows from other countries including America. No gratuitous violence, certainly no profanity. A brief tour finds us in the kitchen of Yesil Elma, Turkey’s Emeril, just prior to broadcast.

A brief lesson in Turkish Cooking as Yesil Elma prepares for his show

Chef Casey and his eggplants

Yolanda can't resist a photo with the chef

We receive a quick lesson in Turkish cooking from the gracious host while indulging our questions. Cem, our “assistant guide” from LA, phones his wife, a big fan, handing the phone to the chef. She is thrilled.

The dessert counter at Kanaat Lokantası in Üskadar

It’s now lunchtime. We’re in Asia and Serkan directs us to a restaurant owned by a friend in Üskadar, across the Bosphorus from the Golden Horn and Istanbul’s prime historical attractions. The restaurant has been around for ages and specializes in dishes from the Ottoman Era.

Feelie making a point to the owner, Serkan's friend, Mehmet Ulutürk, during lunch.

During lunch, smoke rises from the upper floor of a bakery across the street. Fire has always been a severe threat in Istanbul due to the crowding of the wooden buildings, many, very old. The city has suffered huge conflagrations in the past.

Fire trucks arrive promptly, the smoke diminishes and all is well is Üskadar.

The rest of the afternoon is spent in Asia. We visit Bakiad, the Atlantic Association of Cultural Cooperation and Friendship, one of the sponsors of our trip and meet with Osman Baloglu, the General Secretary. Their mission statement reads: Our ultimate goal is to serve and maintain global peace and harmony by building bridges towards a long lasting friendship between the peoples of Turkey and North America, including transatlantic countries, through educational, social, art and cultural activities.

At Bakiad

I must say, and I believe I speak for the other members of our group, they achieved their goal with us. We have learned so much about Turkey’s history, people and culture. We have experienced unparalleled hospitality. We have engaged in deep, rewarding dialog, gained insights into Islam and it’s unique practice in Turkey’s culture, and I believe we also provided those we met with a tiny window into our culture, beliefs, values and lifestyle. Clearly, the goal of building bridges was achieved. We hope too, that lasting friendships were formed.

Meeting with Dr. Ahmet Atliğ at the Journalists and Writers Association

Our final meeting is with members of the journalist’s and writer’s association. Our group is ushered into a bright, spacious meeting room whose broad windows open to a lush, terraced garden. The de rigeur tea is served and our dialog with two, well-dressed gentlemen, one, a former Imam, both writers, begins.

Much of what is discussed focuses around their interest in ways to get the message of the moderate Gülen Movement out, especially to the US, and who to invite on these exchanges. Our ideas surround inviting Buddhists and Hindus; the smaller sects, in addition to those of the Abrahamic traditions; also, inviting artists, ministers of mega-churches and young people, so that they might live with an understanding of the warmth and love we experienced and that this understanding might influence their future.

Additionally, we talked about Wahabbism and the power it exerts over America’s perception of Islam. Succinctly, the former Imam described it in these terms: Taking a cup of tea he said, “This is tea and this is sugar. Sugar is spirituality. Tea needs sugar. When you take the sugar out of the tea, here, you have Wahabbism. No spirituality, just pure religion, dry knowledge.”

Later, in summing up the purpose of these cultural exchanges he cites a story about Rumi: “One day Rumi was asked the meaning of love. He struggled, but couldn’t define it. Instead, he said this: ‘I can’t express to you the meaning of love, just taste it.’. You came here, we’ve been to America and we tasted. Our duty is to say just taste it.”

Dusk is now descending. Still in Asia, Serkan has one last surprise. We find ourselves in a park, high above the Bosphorus, the colorful lights of Istanbul’s two famous bridges shine far to the west. A large, palace-like structure looms in the gathering twilight, floodlights playing across its ornate facade. We enter the high-ceilinged, tastefully, ostentatious rooms for our last dinner together. This is a restaurant few tourists would ever find.

Outside the Beltur Hıdiv Restaurant

Capping our meal as well as our trip, we each attempt to share our feelings about our time in Turkey, each other and especially our warm feelings toward Serkan. Little do we suspect that Serkan has a final surprise up his sleeve. Cem’s wife, Noor, joined us at lunch and spent the afternoon with us. It’s her birthday and Serkan has ordered a birthday cake complete with sparklers shooting into the air.

We all sing happy birthday and Noor is overcome with tears. Such a fitting ending to not only a wonderful day, but to an incredible journey filled with warmth and surprises.

Copyright 2010 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com

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Turkey VI-The Awesome Otherworldly Landscape of Cappodocia

 Travel, Turkey  No Responses »
Nov 092010
 

Next on the agenda is the incredible, in the truest sense of the word, fairytale landscape of Cappodocia. First though, on the road from Nigde to Cappodocia, a tour of the subterranean world of Kamakli.

The town above Ramakli

According to the Turkish Department of Culture, the Phrygians began the complex of underground cities, carving them from the soft, volcanic rock of the region in the 8th-7th centuries B.C.E.. They were greatly enlarged in the Byzantine era and perhaps sheltered the early Christians from Roman persecution. In the 6th and 7th centuries C.E., Christians, fearing Arabs raiders, used them as well. More than 200 underground cities, many connected through miles of tunnels, have been discovered between the towns of Kayseri and Nevsehir. Only a few are excavated and open to tourists.

Casey and David photographing inside what was the church.

One of the stone doors which was rolled into place in times of danger. The hole in it's center allowed the defenders to shoot arrows at the attackers.

The Kamakli underground city is a labyrinth of rooms. Stables, passageways, kitchens, wine cellars, air vents and churches extend eight erratic levels below the surface. Only four levels are currently open. The city is cleverly excavated to allow airflow from the surface. Smoke from the cooking fires was absorbed by the soft rock, hindering detection. Up to 3,000 people took refuge for months at a time.

Another nearby underground city, Derinkuyu, an eleven level complex, is believed to have housed as many as 50,000! It must have been a cramped, uncomfortable and desperate existence with little privacy.

Selling carpets outside the underground city

A short drive takes us to Göreme where, even though prepared, I am astounded by the amazing honeycombed, rock pinnacles of the small towns. Doors, windows and porches of homes are sculpted into the volcanic tuft. Signs adorn the bizarre formations as small shops are carved into the stone.

One of the towns in the Cappodocia region

I yearn to stop as we drive by one amazing town after another. Finally, the bus pulls up in front of a large complex of stalls selling every conceivable trinket and rug. Walking between them takes us to a long cliff overlooking a panorama the like of which I have only seen in a few of America’s western national parks and monuments.

The valley stretching beneath is a complex panoply of erosion sculpted white and gray hoodoos. The hulking pyramid of an extinct volcano, the likely source of all this tuft, lurks in the distance beneath a bright, blue sky. Interspersed amidst this bizarre landscape are houses, shops, mosques and large hotels. Homes have been hewn from most of the rock formations. I can only imagine their interiors. Many pinnacles are hotels. Rooms can be had for a little as $50 a night with rooms in the higher-end hotels going for hundreds of dollars a night.

A hotel set within the valley

Thousands of prayers adorn the skeleton of a tree at the valley rim

We are allowed an all to brief stop and sadly, no chance to descend and walk amongst the incredible formations of this fairyland-like town.

Reluctantly climbing aboard the small bus, we head to our next destination, a restaurant for lunch. And once again, nothing could have prepared us for what we are to experience.

As we pull into into the large parking lot, little is seen but a brown ridge covered with dried grasses and low bushes. It is fall after all. Rounding a corner, we encounter a spacious, stone courtyard flanked by two stone eagles leading to the finely carved, columned entrance to Uranos Sarikaya, where we are to eat.

The waiting room near the entrance

A wide, dimly lit hallway perhaps fifty yards long leads deep into the hillside. Passing through the archway at its end we enter a high, round chamber, the restaurant itself, beautifully carved from the living rock. A lone musician plays the zither in the subdued light at the very center of the circular mosaic floor, sitting within concentric circles of elaborate design. Five chambers, each with stone six tables seating ten diners extend like spokes of a wheel from the mosaic hub. Everything, the tables, benches, railings, columns and doorways are carved in place from the stone of the mountain; truly beautiful craftsmanship. This must provide a taste of what the homes and hotels must be like.

The cooks arrive with once again, too much delicious food and any frustration over the short time spent viewing the valley is forgotten.

The zither player serenades us at our tables with traditional songs

The kitchen off the entry hallway

The kitchen off the entry hallway

Following lunch we return to the area of Göreme for what, according to the guide books, is an imperative; the Göreme Open-Air Museum, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The museum is a monastic complex of Byzantine refectories and churches carved into the rock between the 9th and 12th centuries C.E..

Crowds waiting to enter one of the churches

Once again, fantastic shapes abound. We have time to enter only a few of the eleven or so tiny, 12th century churches. Vivid, colorful frescoes, most in exceptional condition, adorn the walls and ceilings. The love, talent and stupendous time and effort is humbling and awe-inspiring.

Unfortunately, again, I am not allowed to photograph inside the churches. Even though with my cameras, I wouldn’t need to use flash, it is understandable. If allowed, thousands of flashes would go off every day. This continual assault would degrade these thousand year-old treasures in no time. Here are links to some photos of the frescos taken without flash. It gives a taste of the beauty of the work as well as more history: http://www.goreme.com/goreme-open-air-museum.php and http://www.sacred-destinations.com/turkey/cappadocia-goreme-cave-churches

Sadly, our itinerary doesn’t include a night here. We have another several hour drive to Ankara, Turkey’s capital, to catch a night flight back to Istanbul for our final few days with this amazing group of new and extremely interesting friends. I have to be satisfied with a morsel of what Cappodocia offers. Truly, this region of Turkey is so phenomenally otherworldly that I must return and spend days wandering its valleys, exploring its ancient wonders and photographing its bizarre, fairytale formations.

The traditional Turkish amulet used to ward off wishes of bad intent or the "evil eye"

Copyright 2010 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com

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Turkey V-Rumi’s Konya and an Evening of Overwhelming Hospitality in Nigde

 Travel, Turkey  No Responses »
Oct 252010
 

The Mevlana in Konya


It’s a lovely evening. The air is comfortably warm, the hospitality warmer still. We arrive in Konya from Antalya after dark to find two host families waiting at an outdoor restaurant flanked by two, brightly lit, 900 year-old tombs. Three teenage girls, one wearing a headscarf, all shyly giggling, practice their English with us. Interesting conversations about life, education and religion passes between the hosts and ourselves.

Interfaith Mingling Amongst the Women

Feelie and one of our hosts

Alan and one of the teenage daughters intent in discussion

Konya is the spiritual center of the Sufism. Here, the great poet, theologian and mystic, Rumi, lived eight hundred years ago. Sufism is the most peaceful and spiritual of Muslim sects. The roots of the Whirling Dervishes are here.

The entrance to Rumi's Tomb

The Mevlani Way is an ascetic, spiritual life. Rumi believed passionately in utilizing music and dance as a path to God. This evolved into the whirling ritual, focusing the mind so intensely that the soul is both destroyed and resurrected. Apprenticeship entailed a final test; meditating in the communal kitchen for days without food as meals were prepared around you.

It is evident from the women’s dress that Konya is the most traditional of the places we’ve visited thus far. Many more women with headscarves are on the streets. Most wear the shapeless, full-length overcoat of the devout and there is a hint of ethnicity in their style of scarf and flowery skirts.

As we approach the Mevlana, Rumi’s tomb, its green dome sets it off as different from other mosques. The colorful gardens surrounding the complex are immaculately maintained. Sculpted rose bushes and topiary set amidst lush green lawns give color and style to the sanctuary.

I would love to have photographed inside the tomb. The marble walls are covered with flowing Arabic script and, like most mosques, the ceiling is a delight of design. On display are many elaborately illuminated Korans. The beauty of their calligraphy and wealth and creativity of their gilt illustrations captivate me. Unfortunately, no photography is allowed, something, as a professional, I always respect.

Rumi’s epitaph reads: “When we are dead, seek not our tomb in the earth, but find it in the hearts of men.”

Entrance to the school founded by Mehmet Ozdemir

Learning English as the students run up and down the stairs

Entrance to the kindergarten

Lunch is at a primary school built by a local businessman and follower of Fetullah Gülen. This is the first day of school. Garlands of balloons welcome the students. Lunch is with one of the teachers. Peppered by questions from our inquisitive group, we learn that English is taught from the primary level and that the success rate in the Gülen schools is exceptionally high. The vast majority of students pass the national college entrance test and graduate from university.

Music sounds in the hallway. It’s the end of a period and the corridors fill with happy voices. Our group wades out amongst the excited throngs, cameras in hand. We are met with many Hellos, What is your names and Where are you froms. For a quick five minutes the smiling faces of beautiful, happy children besiege us. They make the most of this strange group of visitors who enhance their first-day-of-school enthusiasm.

The evening promises a visit to another school though little do we know what we are in for. A few hours on the bus and we arrive, again after dark, in the small town of Nigde. Here, we are to be divided between the homes of the host families for the night.

A little impromptu performance on the bus by Cem and Serkan

Introductions all around between ourselves and our hosts

Our hosts greet us warmly, taking our bags to their respective cars. Climbing the steps to the school we are ushered into a large, comfortable office for the obligatory welcomings and to again, one by one, recount a bit who we are. The founder of the school, Mr. Celal, a spitting image of Sigmund Freund, leads us into an assembly room where the surprises begin.

Ten, beautiful, young girls in traditional, folk dress, bouquets in hand, flank the entry. Smiling and laughing, they hand each of us a bouquet while welcoming us in English. A mouth-watering aroma wafts through the room as we are shown to our tables surrounding the central floor space.

Suddenly, the girls are lined up in front of an imposing image of Ataturk. Music begins and they dance a well-rehearsed folk dance. We’re delighted!

More introductions follow along with an invitation to line up and be served. Following the dinner of too much delicious, regional food, a tray is wheeled out to the floor and the local master treats us to a demonstration of traditional, Turkish water painting.

In a tray of water, oil paints are dripped onto the surface. The artist uses special implements to shape the drops, adding more, shaping those, until, within five minutes, a lovely image of carnations floats upon the water. Placing a piece of watercolor paper on the surface transfers the painting to the paper and the artist smoothly draws the paper from the tray revealing an amazing painting of life-like carnations.

We are asked to take seats in a row beneath an imposing image of Atatürk, and then are called upon in turn to receive a framed water painting and say a few words.

Terre Sanitate offers some appreciative comments

With the last gift given, music swells, fireworks in front of us gush twin fountains of sparks while cannons on either side engulf us in confetti. I am beyond words.

It took me until the next day to get all the confetti off

A late night ensues as we each go to our respective host’s home. Yolanda, Serkan and I go with a doctor and his wife along with another couple; Turks living in London. We talk about everything, learning about each other’s cultures and religions. For the first time this entire trip, Serkan is fading.

Breakfast is late for a change. We gather, along with our hosts, at the home of a family with a large, abundantly productive garden. Long tables are arranged beneath a grape arbor planted by the host’s grandfather’s.

Casey makes a point

Once again, we are treated to incredibly warm hospitality as we partake of the bounty of the garden. Conversation ranges over a myriad of topics, always penetrating and pertinent to today’s world. It is difficult to express how fortunate I feel to be able to meet people of the Muslim faith on this level. We experience nothing but respect, warm hospitality, dialog, interest and polite acceptance of our differences.

Mr. Celal, the founder of the school, gracious host and Sigmund Freud lookalike.

As we reluctantly take our leave, handshakes, hugs and traditional kisses on both cheeks abound. I feel a glimmer of understanding, not through words but through direct experience, of the philosophy and teachings of the Fetullah Gülen. If our experience reflects some basic principles of Islam, then the world is a less dangerous place and the future brighter still.

Copyright 2010 Dennis Jones/Dreamcatcher Imaging

www.dreamcatcherimaging.com

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