ah, turkey, what can i say to describe you? storms of tea in tiny glasses, donkeys and factories, olıves and angels and megaphone prayers...
the word for boot is the word for boat and i am walking to konya like a seafarer. right now it's pissing down in this bus stop town somewhere in western anatolia. i am being transformed by this country and i am not yet sure what shape i will take. but there is the beginning of a long cycle of poems in my backpack about this particular adventure. a book is gestating.
i would fill you in on the eastern europe leg of my travels but the email i was carefully composing has been left behind along with my laptop. i needed to be carrying less weight and things were falling apart technology wise. in my head as well there were collapses of homesickness and travel fatigue and the ceaseless horror of the dollar. anyway i had fun exploring the seven levels of postcommunist chic. ask me about it by email or i might post some stuff here later when i can make sense of it.
istanbul was a three headed monster: godhead, carpet seller, sleaze. i ran away to çannakale where gallipoli stared at me across the water and i refused to participate. instead i headed west because i am going east, makes sense to me, visited troy where homer claıms to have invented stories (i prefer gilgamesh) and breakfasted with a lovely old man who regaled me with anecdotes and tea. i couldn,t afford the ruıns so i hopped a bus to assos and walked through fields of olıve trees. peasant women gave me food and smiles. romanian truckies gave me a lift and dinner. i am blessed.
and wandered thence to bergama where the romans claim to have invented books (but the turks were already using parchment). my tavla-playing charmed the security guards into a free tour of the acropolis. the temple of zeus is missing cause the germans nicked it and now there's a big old pine tree. much better and the endless glasses of tea staved off the rain damp. i am learning turkish. badly.
in a tiny village i befriended a couple of teenage girls who were so pleased to meet a tourist they treated me like some mythical creature which i did not deserve. i feel for their entrapment. the women are at home or working in the fields unseen while public space is full of men. the segregation makes me stick out like the proverbial dog's, but i am getting used to the stares and the need to look down at the crazy mess that passes for paving helps with avoiding too much problematic attention. in fact once you are out of the tourist areas the people are astonishingly generous.
i must away. but check this page for more regular updates cause its much easier for me to rapıd fire a blog than spam you lot. but please email me with news of home i walked into a gum tree yesterday and stood there in a state of wonder for much too long
xxxj
the word for boot is the word for boat and i am walking to konya like a seafarer. right now it's pissing down in this bus stop town somewhere in western anatolia. i am being transformed by this country and i am not yet sure what shape i will take. but there is the beginning of a long cycle of poems in my backpack about this particular adventure. a book is gestating.
i would fill you in on the eastern europe leg of my travels but the email i was carefully composing has been left behind along with my laptop. i needed to be carrying less weight and things were falling apart technology wise. in my head as well there were collapses of homesickness and travel fatigue and the ceaseless horror of the dollar. anyway i had fun exploring the seven levels of postcommunist chic. ask me about it by email or i might post some stuff here later when i can make sense of it.
istanbul was a three headed monster: godhead, carpet seller, sleaze. i ran away to çannakale where gallipoli stared at me across the water and i refused to participate. instead i headed west because i am going east, makes sense to me, visited troy where homer claıms to have invented stories (i prefer gilgamesh) and breakfasted with a lovely old man who regaled me with anecdotes and tea. i couldn,t afford the ruıns so i hopped a bus to assos and walked through fields of olıve trees. peasant women gave me food and smiles. romanian truckies gave me a lift and dinner. i am blessed.
and wandered thence to bergama where the romans claim to have invented books (but the turks were already using parchment). my tavla-playing charmed the security guards into a free tour of the acropolis. the temple of zeus is missing cause the germans nicked it and now there's a big old pine tree. much better and the endless glasses of tea staved off the rain damp. i am learning turkish. badly.
in a tiny village i befriended a couple of teenage girls who were so pleased to meet a tourist they treated me like some mythical creature which i did not deserve. i feel for their entrapment. the women are at home or working in the fields unseen while public space is full of men. the segregation makes me stick out like the proverbial dog's, but i am getting used to the stares and the need to look down at the crazy mess that passes for paving helps with avoiding too much problematic attention. in fact once you are out of the tourist areas the people are astonishingly generous.
i must away. but check this page for more regular updates cause its much easier for me to rapıd fire a blog than spam you lot. but please email me with news of home i walked into a gum tree yesterday and stood there in a state of wonder for much too long
xxxj
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