Israel--at last

After talking about it for years, Bob and I are finally heading to Israel on Tuesday. This trip is courtesy of my heroic sister, Misty, and her husband, Jerry, who came all the way back from the remote mountains of Guatemala to keep an eye on my parents and the dog while we're gone. Stay tuned for more after we get to Haifa.

I'm off to California with Bob today--in the miserable rain! Watch this spot for updates on our adventures.

My restful trip to the Dominican Republic

It's hard to say much about this trip because I did almost nothing. But here are a few photos to prove I was there. Here is where I spent most of my time.

Note the 'teapot' on the table next to the hammock.

Here is my buddy Luna, who was usually hanging around. The adoring expression has everything to do with beef jerky treats. She is still recovering from a horrible wound and is the latest in Edit's (owner) "I'm not going to adopt any more street dogs!" series.

The cottages are in a lovely garden setting and there are a few flowers that the donkeys don't eat.

Paco and Flora, the resident donkeys, are always willing to help you with your meals when you're sitting out at the picnic table.

I did venture out to shop for food (it's a good thing I like eggplant, which was pretty much all they had in the vegetable markets) and to read on the beach. I'm always impressed by the Dominicans' skill at adaptive reuse. Here, for example, is some creative pothole repair.

And here is a popular way to roast chicken. A big metal drum (not, I hope, an oil drum) is cut in half length-ways, fitted with hinges and a handle, then filled with coal and used to cook chicken.

The weather was unsettled, and though I did some lovely swimming in calm water, a recent storm had whipped up the surf by the time I got around to taking photos.

On my last day, I finally stirred and went out to see a famous waterfall in the area. This entailed getting a gua gua (licensed private bus service), which in this case was a pickup truck with benches lining the bed so you can cram ten or so people in the back. The road to the waterfall was steep and very muddy. Most people hire a horse/donkey/mule and a guide, and I did, too. The waterfall was lovely, but the best part was the ride up through the forest.

That's it for this winter. I'm already planning my trip back next year.

Istanbul again

Here I am again, back in Istanbul, sitting on the terrace of this backpacker's hostel and half-eavesdropping on the conversation of some 20-something Aussies. If it's not Germans, it's Australians.

You, long-suffering readers, were at least spared my Cats of Turkey blog post, though I have photos of cats in every town, every ruined city, that I visited. But I couldn't resist just this one shot, of the regal possessor of a rug shop that I passed this evening,

The human owner said that since I admired his beautiful cat, I was sure to love his beautiful rugs. But I didn't dare look inside.

It's now dark and as I type this I can see the lights reflected on the Bosporus on my left, the floodlit Blue Mosque in front of me, and Hagia Sophia just to my right. It seems a fitting place to end my tale. Thanks to all who have taken the trouble to follow my adventures. Until next time!

I'm typing this in a teahouse next to the Black Sea, in a pretty little town called Amasra. I arrived yesterday and after a brief search for accommodation that I was willing to pay for, I ended up in a room in a private home. There are clothes in all the drawers and closets in my room, so I speculate that this is the room of a child who has grown up and left the family home. The residents appear to be a late-middle-aged couple and a very elderly mother. They're sweet as can be, but don't speak any English, so many hand signals are being exchanged.

The house is in "the castle," a Roman-Byzantine fortification built around the perimeter of an island that's connected to the mainland by a narrow causeway. (You can just about see the house, a tasteful psychedelic green,  on the right side of the previous photo.) You can squeeze a small European-style car through the original gate--if you're very, very careful.

   










My hosts have NO WIFI!!! So there's not much to do here except relax, enjoy the view, and drink tea. Which is what I intend to do on my last day. I might go up to the tip of the island and watch the sunset over the Black Sea. Sounds like a full day to me.
   
(Sent from Istanbul the next day.)
   

I'm in old house geek heaven!

The old town in Safranbolu, near the Black Sea, is a U.N. World Heritage Site, famous for its traditional Ottoman houses. I've been here a couple of days and taken, approximately, a couple of thousand photos. I'll spare you all of them, but here is an example.

A few of the houses are open for tours--some more officially than others. I did the official tours and then accepted an offer from an enthusiastic gentleman to see his "museum." He seemed to think it was a museum to him and his family, as he told me about his parents, grandparents, etc. But it was interesting to see a house that's actually being lived in.

Rooms traditionally were (maybe are) specialized by social role rather than by function. I presume because their ancestors lived in tents, people eat, sleep, work, and relax in the same room--but one room is for men, one for women, one for a woman who has a child, etc.

Safranbolu also still has its caravanserai, where people traveling the Silk Road with their animals and wares would stay for the night. You can see some of the cave-like rooms where they bedded down and even stay in one, as the building is now a hotel.

And I can't resist adding this last photo of the proprietor of one of the house museums. She owns the house and runs a little souvenir shop and pancake restaurant on the ground floor. She definitely breaks the mold of the subdued Muslim woman! And she was happy to pose for photos with me and the three Malay/Singaporean women who were also visiting her establishment.

Notice my Muslim-friendly scarf hat. :-)

Tomorrow I move on to Amasra, a small port town on the Black Sea, for a day or so of relaxation before I head back to Istanbul and then to Boston. So expect one more thrilling installment before I'm done.

Pamukkale

The sweet little town of Pamukkale is famous for its travertine terraces, which step up a marble-white mountain just beyond the town. The milky water rushing down the hill is laced with calcium, which hardens into white stone. The Romans established a spa here and built a city above it.

Some of the terrace pools are still open for people to enjoy.

The Roman ruins above are almost as well preserved as those at Ephesus, but I had them nearly all to myself. At this point, I'm sure you can't bear to see another shot of a Roman ruin, but I'll add just this one: It's an olive oil press. The groove on the right is where the oil pours down into a container.

 










Like all my travelogues, it seems, I get back to food eventually. Here are a couple of ladies making golzeme, which is a kind of savory pancake folded around some filling: meat, cheese, or spinach. The lady in the foreground is rolling out the dough and her companion is cooking the pancakes over a coal-fired hotplate. Very tasty.

 










Over and out for tonight. Tomorrow: Ottoman houses!