Chiang Mai, Thailand.
Category Archives: Home
Filed under Adventures, Asia, Chiang Mai, Home, Thailand
A Turkish Itinerary.
Hoş Geldiniz Türkiye’ye! Welcome to Turkey!
Welcome to colorful/crazy/chaotic/beautiful place that is Turkey! Here are a few suggested day-itineraries for the city of Istanbul and information on some of my favorite places to explore throughout the rest of Turkey.
Sultanahmet (The Old City), the place with all the history—
You’ll want to get early start today avoid crowds of tourists. This is also the day you’ll want to dress according to mosque dress code (long pants and long sleeves). Places you won’t want to miss include Sultan Ahmed Cami (The Blue Mosque), Ayasofya (Hagia Sophia), and Topkapı Sarayı (Topkapi Palace). There is an awesome park near the palace (Gülhane Parkı) where you can relax in the grass, have a picnic, etc. Across the street from the the palace is Yerebatan Sarnıcı (the Basilica Cistern) which is a cool underground cistern that was once lost for centuries beneath the city before being rediscovered. In the evening you might want to go to Kumkapı (a part of the city within walking distance of where you’ll be) with lots of Meyhanes, the restaurants Turkey is famous for that serve fish (balık) and colorful small appetizers (meze) and have live music playing all evening.
Eminönü and Taksım, get ready to feel like a sardine—
This day will be the most crowded yet, tossed right into the hustle and bustle of daily life and local Turks. You can start in Eminönü where will find Yeni Cami (the New Mosque), Mısır Çarşısı (The Egyptian Market, a.k.a. Spice Bazaar), and some busy market streets. These tightly packed streets are super fun to explore, full of Turkish foods and spices and locally made items. Once you’re good and lost in these streets ask someone to point you toward Kapalı Çarşı (the Grand Bazaar). You’ll wind your way up a hill to find the biggest covered market in the world. It’s colorful and chaotic and people will try to convince to you pay five times more than you should for anything that catches your eye. If you do plan on buying anything to take home from Istanbul I would recommend doing it on the Asian side of the city (next itinerary) except if you want a hookah set, backgammon set, or inlaid wooden boxes of which the Grand Bazar has the best selection. Outside of the Grand Bazar is a little hidden hookah place full of smoke and old men with big beards. Ask someone to point you towards Corlulu Ali Pasa Medresesi Nargile (nargile is hookah in Turkish). It’s a little rough around the edges but it’s my favorite. From there you can take the tramway or walk up to Suleymaniye (the Magnificent Mosque). This is my favorite mosque in all of Istanbul, high up on a hill with views of the whole city from the courtyard. In the evening I’d recommend walking back down to Eminönü and eating fresh fish sandwiches (balık ekmek) along the water by the Galata Bridge. You can walk across the top of this bridge (where men are always fishing), across the street, and up the hill called Galip Dede Cadessi. The street is lined with little shops and leads up to Galata Tower, which has a good view of the city (be careful who you go up to the top with, though..legend has it you’ll marry them). From there you can continue up the hill to Istiklal Cadessi, Turkey’s busiest street, for night life that lasts until the sun comes up.
Karaköy and Kadıköy, hopping over to Asia—
Today you’ll being hanging out with the locals on the Asian side of the city where tourists rarely go..my neighborhood! You might want to start the day in Karaköy, along the water on the European side of the city. I’d recommend walking from the Karaköy ferry station to Kılıç Ali Paşa Camii (mosque) and grabbing coffee somewhere in these sweet windy streets full of coffee shops and art galleries and boutiques full of handmade trinkets. This is considered a really hip and artsy part of the city where more affluent Turks get their caffeine fix. From there go back to the ferry station and cross the Bosphorus waterway to Kadıköy. Welcome to Asia! Hop off the ferry and ask someone to point you towards Kurukahveci Yavuz Bey, my favorite little coffee shop and barista family in Istanbul. This will put you right on the edge of Kadıköy’s market streets full of fish, fresh fruits and veggies, cheeses, bakeries, and other yummy things brought in daily from the villages outside of the city. These are also the streets where I would recommend doing your shopping if you feel so included. Kurukahveci Mehmet Efendi Türk Kahvesi is known for having the best coffee in Turkey. Across the street from Yavuz Bey is a little underground passage with golden tea cups and intricate coffee cups and other pretty things at really reasonable prices. Aziziye Hamam is one of the oldest and most authentic Turkish baths in the city. Getting aggressively scrubbed down by a large naked human will surely leave you scarred internally but on the outside you’ll feel as squeaky clean and fresh as a baby. In the evening you can walk along the seaside and watch the sun go down with good views of the European side of the city across the water. I like to sit near the ferries in the evening and watch the people dancing and playing music, men shining shoes, passing out tea, serving Turkish bagels (simit) and other treats. At night you can explore Moda Cadessi for restaurants and bars and head over to Barlar Sokağı (Bar Street) to hang out with young and modern local people and students.
Kapadokya (or Cappadocia) is a dreamy land full of cave houses and underground cities, hot air balloons and fairy chimneys (the nice way they have of calling the giant phallic shaped rock formations scattered over the landscape). This place seriously looks like you landed on another planet but just so happens to be one of my favorite places on this one. To get here you’ll likely fly from Istanbul to Nevşehir. You can arrange ahead of time via Airbnb to stay in one of the cave houses or hotels that make this region famous. I recommend staying in any of the surrounding small towns. Uçhisar is a good one because it’s not very touristy but still close to all the things you’ll want to see. You can arrange for your Airbnb’s shuttle to pick you up from the airport and take you to where you’re staying. They can also help you get a rental car, which I would definitely recommend getting any tine you’re outside of Istanbul. Places you will want to explore in this region include the town of Uçhisar and climb Uçhisar Kalesi, a castle at the very top of the city carved entirely into a massive rock. Pigeon Valley has nice views and interesting trees covered with hundreds of Nazar Boncuğu (Evil Eyes). The Zelve Açık Hava Müzesi (Zelve Open Air Museum) is an amazing park and one of my favorite place in all of Kapadokya. The Goreme Open Air Museum is full of cave churches with old frescoes. Avanos is a small town known for it’s ceramics and wine. Rose and/or Red valley has great hiking as well as the nearby towns of Göreme or Çavuşin. The nderground cave cities of Kaymakli (the largest underground city) and Derinkuyu (the deepest underground city) are a little out of the way but very cool (and claustrophobic) to explore. No matter what, I would recommend waking up at 4:30 AM, driving to Göreme and getting to a high place to watch the hot air balloons dotting the sky as the sun rises. You can also arrange ride in one of these balloons if that’s you’re thing, although it’s pretty pricey. Kapadokya is like one big playground..the type of place you can get off the beaten path, explore on your own, and find amazing things around every corner.
Mediterranean and Aegean Sea—
The regions of Turkey along the Mediterranean Sea (Akdeniz Bölgesi) and Aegean Sea (Ege Bölgesi) are dotted with beautiful seaside towns and turquoise blue waters. I would avoid the large touristy cities of Izmir, Bodrum, and Antalya and stick to the smaller towns. I might recommend flying to Izmir and renting a car from there. These places won’t be super packed at this time of year so no need to arrange for a place to stay ahead of time. You can check local hotels and hostels for availability when you get there and depending on where your adventure takes you. The nearby town of Efes (or Ephesus) is known for it’s ancient ruins, although if you’re coming from Greece you might not be inclined to go out of your way for these. Alıçata is a lovely village painted entirely in white known for it’s charming windmills and cobblestone streets. Akyaka is a seaside town famous for it’s wind surfing, with Mediterranean style architecture and bungalows. The number one spot I would recommend visiting is Kaş, a beautiful seaside town with crystal clear waters, sweet market streets, paragliding, scuba diving, and a twenty minute boat ride from the Greek islands. Kekova (also named Caravola) is a nearby small island with a sunken city worth exploring. The ancient ruins near Kaş are a stop on The Lycian Way, a long-distance footpath along the coast of ancient Lycia. It is approximately 540 km long and passes some of Turkey’s most famous ancient sites. Adventurous people like to backpack this trail in the Spring and Fall, which I would totally recommend if you’re up for it!
The Black Sea region of Turkey is made up of little villages scattered across the green misty mountains in the Northeastern region of Turkey near the border of Georgia. The mysterious landscape is difficult to navigate, and so is it’s unique culture, but if you’re up for a bumpy (and wet) adventure this place is worth the trip. You would fly from Istanbul to Trabzon and from there take a bus to Rize where you would rent a car (with four wheel drive) and cpntinue up into the mountains. If you want to stay in a humble hotel or rented cabin I would recommend Ayder. If you’re up for camping, you can continue up into the Kaçkar Dağlar (Kaçkar Mountains) and set up camp at any of the yaylas..high elevation valleys that are very precious to the culture of the Black Sea. People have been migrating up to these valleys from the surrounding villages for countless generations, spending their summers in mountain passes they consider to possess some kind of magic. The air is crisp, the water is fresh from mountain springs, the landscape is quite barren but beautiful. Trees don’t grow as high as you will be, but the sun is so bright it will turn your cheeks pink, and the stars are so shiny you’ll swear you could reach up and touch them. Days are warm-ish, nights are veryy cold and often rainy, so you’ll want to pack accordingly. Ayder has places you can eat if you want to use it as a base, otherwise you will have to pack your food, which you can pick up in Rize at any of the markets. You can take the bumpy road from Ayder to Palovit Yaylası and continue as far and as slowly as you’d like, camping along the way. The very last and most distant yayla is called Hapivanak, which is where I’ve stayed for the past three summers. If you make it there, say hi to whoever you spot from me please! Only about ten people live there, so they’ll probably know me as the one with yellow hair.
Safranbolu is a town in the Black Sea region of northern Turkey, once a stop on the trade route between Europe and the Orient. Its Ottoman architecture includes the old Çarşı district, with hundreds of preserved, red-roofed Ottoman houses on cobblestone streets. Mardin is a historical city in Southeastern Anatolia near Syria situated on the top of a hill and known for its fascinating architecture. It lies at the heart of homeland of Syriacs, an ancient people who trace their origin to Akkadian Empire and speak a language directly related to the native tongue of Jesus Christ. Basically, it has lots of cool history. If you make it this far to the Southeast there are lots of other cities and sites you can visit. Nemrut Dağı (Nemrut Mountain) is a UNESCO World Heritage Centre known for its colossal head statues assumed to be an ancient royal tomb. Göbekli Tepe is the oldest religious site known to humans and has some interesting ruins to explore. The cities of Adana and Urfa are known for their incredibly delicious (not an exaggeration) kebab. Diyarbakır is the center of Southeastern Turkey’s Kurdish population, known for its historical sites and almost constant (but easily avoidable) violence and attacks. Anywhere you go in this region you will want to use a bit of extra precaution, but a little common sense should keep you out of too much trouble.
Phrases to Know
Hello: Merhaba (MEHR-hah-bah)
Thanks: Teşekkürler (tey-shey-kuhr-LEHR)
Welcome: Hoşgeldiniz (hosh-GEL-din-iz)
Response to welcome: Hoş bulduk (hosh-BUL-duhk)
See you/Bye: Görüşürüz (goo-roo-SHOO-rooz)
How are you?: Nasılsınız? (NAH-suhl-suh-nuhz)
I’m fine, thank you: İyiyim, teşekkür ederim (EE-yihm, teh-sheh-KEHR-eh-deh-rehm)
Pardon me: Pardon (par-DOHN)
Bathroom: Lavabo (LA-va-bo)
Water: Su (SOO)
Food: Yemek (YEH-mek)
Yes: Evet (ehv-EHT)
No: Yok (yohk)
Please: Lütfen (loot-FEN)
Cheers!: Şerefe (SHER-rey-fey)
İyi şanslar! Good luck!
Hope you have an amazing time! Let me know if I can be of any help at all. Sincerely, Lauren
Filed under Adventures, Home, Turkey
Filed under Adventures, Alaçatı, Ceşme, Ephesus, Home, Turkey, Şirince
How are we defined?
You are more than a word. Unlike a word, you are not static—you evolve like the very Earth you’re spinning on. Unlike a word, you are not solid—you were born 75 percent water. Unlike a word, you cannot be defined with an entry in a dictionary—you redefine yourself with each thought, with each action. Don’t let yourself be contained in the limits of a word, and don’t let others either. The ones who have been replaced with a label, condensed to a noun meant to divide them from you. If we must be put into words, let them be verbs. I breath, I dream, I hurt, I hope, I love, I live, and I bet you do too. If we must be put into words let them have life. Let them be human.
Place of Apollo.
Filed under Adventures, Home, Mediterranean, Patara
For what are we equipped?
The world of today is a culmination of histories, the stories of the people before us. Some of its most beautiful artifacts their acts of defiance against the ways of yesterday. One day our present will be woven into that fabric—our stories its threads, our legacy creating a world for the people of tomorrow.
There has only been one you in the history of this world. And the current arrangement of stars and planets and the particles upon them has only happened once. That means each of us in this very moment are specifically and particularly equipped for sharing something of unique and intrinsic value.
Art, in whatever form it may take, is a mode of empathy. Shaping and sharing the ideas and visions unique to us helps us to really see while looking and hear while listening when others do the same. Vulnerability – through words and movements and notes and brush strokes – is something to be cherished indeed.
So whatever your medium or method, make it honest and sincere and weirdly individually you. I promise I’ll try my best to do the same, and to remember that if I have the freedom to express I also have the responsibility to listen.
Those disrupting the pattern with the art you create, the words you speak, the life you lead, the way you use your freedom—I appreciate you and your bold acts of defiance.
The color [turk]quoise.
Filed under Adventures, Home, Kaş, Kekova, Mediterranean, Turkey
Filed under Adventures, Greece, Home, Kastellorizo
Filed under Adventures, Home, Kıyıköy, Marmara, Turkey, İğneada
Where are the boundaries?
Most divisions that exist—between people, places, ideas—are imaginary.
…They exist only because we’ve chose to make them so. They dissolve in just the same way.
Only as as powerful as we as we allow them to be.
How valuable is the present?
Somewhere between spring and summer as the water of the Bosphorus is waiting to warm and the clouds in the sky are waiting to part. Somewhere between Asia and Europe as the ferry’s passengers are on their way home at the end of the day or on their way out at the start of the night. There is a quiet eagerness in the air, sensing that the wait won’t be much longer now for summer to reach the city. Maybe two weeks, or three, but for now we’re waiting, waiting. In the rows of wooden seats people are mumbling about precisely that. The ferry is the old kind..the kind that rumbles and creaks as wind sneaks through cracks in it’s welded metal walls. Not like the new kind that’s sealed tight light a spaceship and glides over the waves instead of rolling with them. The strings of a violin are being put in tune. The volume is being adjusted on an acoustic guitar. Nobody notices until the notes meet in a melody. And the strumming of the violin and the plucking of a guitar become a time portal to the present moment. And all of a sudden we’re no longer waiting – we’re here – on the ferry, in the midst of a city split between two continents, where you can stand in one spot and travel a hundred different journeys in the course of a day, like the whole world is spinning around that very point. This is a moment too, and a precious one at that. And the musicians making the music have an open guitar bag at their feet. And no matter how much change the passengers place inside as they pass by at end their day or start their night, at the end of the spring and the start of the summer, couldn’t possibly amount to the value of this moment.
It’s all we have.
What is absolute?
We all keep something of field journal as we travel through life. In it we chart maps, we make observations, we note the things we know to be true.
We collect moments and press them like flowers in its pages. We place a stamp to mark the place we call home. We transcribe lines of music to capture the songs that we sing.
In many ways our field book looks like a dictionary, containing the definitions of the things most powerful to us. Things like ‘love’ and ‘strength’ and ‘freedom’. We make two-columned tables of concepts we believe to have clear opposites, like ‘good’ and ‘bad’, ‘right’ and ‘wrong’. We make lists with titles like ‘who I am’ and ‘who I am not.’
We bring this field book along on all of life’s adventures, pulling it out of our pocket and adding a new line each time we encounter something we’ve not experienced before.
In these books, we are taught that our strokes should be quite firm, notes quite permanent, definitions quite solid. That we should be unquestioning of its contents and secure in what we know to be true. That there is strength in the wielding of a pen.
But the problem with pen is that it’s permanent. And if we are paying attention, it is inevitable we will encounter things that don’t fit into the categories we’ve made. Things that push the line between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ or that contradict entirely the definitions we’ve kept for longer than we remember: That to love does not mean to own or to keep. That seeming acts of goodness can also be self-serving and selfish. That almost nothing can be condensed into just ‘this’ and ‘that.’
These encounters are a test of our ego. Because to recognize they exist is to recognize we were limited in our views, that there’s something more there, or that we were wrong all together. And I believe our reaction to these encounters is everything. That there are too many people in high places with pens clenched tight, unwilling to go back, re-read, and re-write. Unwilling to take a step in a different direction. Unwilling to sing a different tune.
But if you ask me, there is something stronger than the wielding of a pen. Something much more suited to the the filling of a field journal, to the note taking of life.
A pencil is versatile: a tip that can make marks both light and heavy, shaded or scratched, and an end that can erase them all together. A tool which embodies that what was true does not define what is true. That who we were does not define who we are. That a story can change in an instant.
Because to move through life with an open mind is to fill page after page without being too attached to the contents of any one of them. To be amazed and intrigued when something calls for our notes to be re-evaluated and re-defined. That the sign of curious heart is a field journal full of words and scribbles and sketches and very few solid lines..cover worn and pages crinkled from the constant practice of being pulled from a pocket and flipped through forwards and back.
To live is to change. That’s why I choose pencil over pen.
Hey gidi yayalar.
Filed under Black Sea, Hapivanak Yayla, Hemşin, Home, Turkey
Fire and ice.
Reykjavík, Þingvellir, Geysir, Skálholt, Reyðarbarmur, Laugarvatn, Reynisfjara, Landmannalaugar, Þjóðveldisbærinn, Iceland.
Filed under Þingvellir, Geysir, Home, Iceland, Landmannalaugar, Laugarvatn, Reyðarbarmur, Reykjavík, Reynisfjara, Skálholt
Ubuntu: I am because we are.
Filed under Aberdares, Adventures, Africa, Bondo, Home, Kenya, Kisumu, Maai Mahiu, Nairobi
In place of stars.
Spring in the city.
What is and what isn’t.
“The miracle of your mind isn’t that you can see the world as it is. It’s that you can see the world as it isn’t.” -Kathryn Schulz, from her TED Talk “On Being Wrong”
It has been said that humans are the only creatures on Earth which can place ourselves in situations that don’t exist. That could mean fantasizing about the future or thinking back on alternate routes we might have taken in the past.
Does it mean we are the only creatures which can experience regret? Or the only ones who can experience hope? Does it mean we are the only ones who can envision a world that is better than it is now or a life different from the one we’re living?
I think it may mean we are the only creatures who tell stories, for whom the line between what’s fact and what’s fiction is often quite fuzzy.
One of my favorite films goes by the tile Big Fish, by Director Tim Burton. It’s the story of a man telling the story of his life, and the story of a son grappling with the definition of truth. Because, you see, this man’s stories are whimsical and fantastic and strange and beautiful, driven by hope and fear and dreams and love rather than logic or practicality. The characters don’t always have names and locations don’t always correlate to a specific point on a map. Time slows down and time speeds up and jumps from past to present to future and back. The lines aren’t straight and the pieces don’t fit together with perfect angles and this the son resents. And this he struggles to understand, until he follows the footsteps of these stories himself and realizes that fiction may indeed be closer to the truth than fact.
Because – after all – we don’t see the world as it is, we see it as we are. And all we ever know and all we can ever tell is the story of our lives as we know it, and the stories of the events and places and people that have intersected with ours.
And those stories don’t always have a clear beginning. Or if they do have a beginning it’s not one we can pinpoint and often occurred long before any of the characters even existed. So there’s nothing left to do but pick a spot and start telling from there. And inevitably we have to hop back and forth into earlier and later times to get the details right. But that’s okay because life isn’t so easily segmented into moments than can be traced like a connect-the-dots. And unless you’re looking at a clock, I’m quite sure that time doesn’t move in a straight line either, and certainly not at a constant speed, at least not from where I’m looking.
And now I’m reading a book, the first book translated from the Kurdish language to English. I’ve been reading this same book for months now, and I swear that the more pages I read the more pages add on to the end. I pick it up and put it down and read other books in the times in between. The timeline is upside down and rightside up and its settings don’t exist and it contradicts itself and admits that it really makes no sense at all. And the entire book is about imagination. And it’s one of the truest stories I’ve ever read.
We are creatures on strange journeys, guided and followed by hearts and minds all our own. And as such, we are storytellers.
“I believe that all strange journeys begin with a step in an unknown direction. To become an imaginative creature you first need to take a step and follow a route without knowing where it goes.”- I Stared at the Night of the City – a novel written by Bachtyar Ali, translated by Kareem Abdulrahman
Do we have super powers?
I once met a boy who could stop time. Capture a moment and hold it in the palm of his hand, focusing in on the details that might otherwise have become faded and creased as memories do, or lost in time all together left behind somewhere along a mountain range.
I knew a girl who could teleport people to dreams and far away places with the words that came from her pencil. And another who could turn anyone else into the most fascinating person in all the world. She’d do it by asking good questions and listening hard and then she’d watch the person transform before her very eyes.
Do we have super powers? As a matter of fact, I believe that we do.
And if there’s one superpower I’d like to harness within myself, it’s the power to become liquid.
I think the first inclination for many is exactly the opposite—to be solid, like a stone, rolling through life. Over time, the world around them chips away and smooths their edges, shaping them into something that only slightly resembles their previous form. But the process is slow. And the balance is off. They knock down more than they allow to knock at them.
What I’m talking about is a state that’s more fluid, a relationship with the world that’s more dynamic.
Liquids are gentle in their movements but powerful in their impact. They fill the empty spaces around them, both shaping to their surroundings and shaping them. And on the way, their components are ever-rearranging, ever-evolving, defying definitions and simple explanations.
To be liquid doesn’t mean totally losing one’s self and the core aspects of one’s identity in the journey through life, for liquids mold to their environment but never lost their substance; they are comprised of the same components, yet things can mix with them, add to them, make them better. And to be liquid doesn’t mean being powerless to affecting the environment around one’s self, for what’s really more gracefully powerful than an ocean wave?
Rather, to be liquid takes imagination—a superpower in itself. A willingness to pretend, to make believe, to become something new, even if just for today. To listen, to observe, to appreciate, to change. To make all things possible.
Liquidity is life itself. And to harness that would be a superpower indeed.
Are we infinite?
“I wonder if we have endless parts of ourselves to leave behind or an infinite amount of ourselves to paint over with experiences and people,” I heard you ponder to yourself the other day, at this point in your journey.
And at this point in mine, I’m pondering the little pieces of my heart left behind wherever I go, some bigger than others. And you saw a moment the other day where I felt their empty spaces. And I guess that can happen when you live like we do. Diving in head-first to the world around you – letting it bend you and shape you and permeate you – is ible to put a strain on your heart. And what a beautiful thing that it does.
At the same time your heart gets to feel this incredible sense of fullness that it wouldn’t get to otherwise. And you get to feel this immense fascination and curiosity and wonder and love for life that you might not be able to explain. And your mind and your strength and your courage and your dreams, they’re all kind of sparky. And sometimes you can’t remember which of your dreams were dreams and which were life. And that makes it worth it, I think. Worth it in every way.
But back to your pondering—
I’m beginning to believe that the more pieces of ourselves we paint with experiences and the people we share them with, the more multi-faceted we become. By interacting and interlacing with the world around us we give ourselves depth and color and complexities and substance.
In that sense, the more we uncover in life around us, the more there is to uncover within ourselves.
In that sense, we’re infinite.
“…two pieces of random blue sky pieces that don’t seem to fit anywhere.”
Filed under Antalya, Çıralı, Beycik, Home, Kaputaş, Kaş, Lycian Way, Maden, Mediterranean, Olympos, Yanartaş
How valuable is the intangible?
It is said that nothing happens until something moves.
A smile in return to the tip of a hat, shared stories with the person in the next bus seat, a penny left behind on a sidewalk..right side facing up.
I’ve been thinking lately about this idea of contact points, which are the most fitting words I can think of to describe the way we move and touch the world around us, how we interact with the people and moments we encounter along the way. Each one leaves an impact, big or small, positive or negative.
Sometimes those impacts are big, and those are the ones that people recognize and remember after we’re gone. But what I think are even more intriguing are the small ones, the ones that most people don’t notice, and sometimes we don’t even realize we’ve left behind. Those contact points, those small impacts, are untraceable..unattributable to one particular individual. Instead, they become a part of the world around them.
A moment in its unwritten history.
A note in a song.
Maybe that’s what comprises the energy of a place, that intangible thing which makes you feel at home in a far-away land. The songs woven into it. And we, as a part of that place, are the leavers of notes. The writers of melodies.