българия (Bulgaria)

If I ever do end up becoming a travel writer, it probably won't be for a newspaper. You know those "36 Hours in ..." features that the New York Times travel section does? Well, if I wrote one, it would break down into major components of trying to find your hostel, sleeping, finding toilets you don't have to pay for and warming up at a cafe. I think the NYT likes you to focus more on cathedrals and strip clubs. Basically, if you want to know where I was that first afternoon in Sofya, take a map of the city and superimpose the latest installment of Family Circus where Billy runs all over the neighborhood. Then read the last 20 comics featuring "Grandma's Pearls of Wisdom" or whatever they are called to get an idea of the pain from the cold and weight of my backpack.

The coolest part about arriving in Sofya and walking around trying to find Hostel Mostel (worth the walking, more on this below), was trying to decipher the street signs in Bulgarian, because it uses the Cyrillic alphabet, and our guidebook map had the transliterated street names in English. Luckily, Meredith printed off a couple copies of the Cyrillic alphabet before we went, so we had something to go by. It was actually fun to see a sign and then mentally rearrange the sounds in my mind to figure out what it should look like in English and then try to find it on the map. For example, "Tsar" in a street name was common and looks like this: цар. I still can't speak any Bulgarian besides "please" - "моля" (molja) and "thank-you"- " благодаря", but it's fun to know that I can decipher things phonetically in a language with only 5 letters that have the same sound in English and Bulgarian. It was a true pleasure to try and learn something and then put it into such critical use right away, just the way learning should happen ideally. I will post thoughts on this with regards to learning Turkish in the near future.

Hostel Mostel was awesome because they had free tea and coffee all day, free pasta and beer in the evenings, and the guy running it while we were there, Todd, was really enthusiastic and helpful, and had a good sense of humor. Meredith and I both agreed that we wanted to be him and find jobs at hostels in America. The private apartment rooms were actually about four blocks up the street from the hostel, so we walked up to those with Todd and got settled in after the first round of tea and coffee. The room we got was nice and big, but the down side of that was that it was very difficult to keep warm. Meredith ended up napping with her head right next to the radiator the first afternoon for warmth. It was cute.

That evening we strolled on one of the streets south of the hostel apartment because it had festive snowflakes and candles in bright lights over the boulevard (do you still get these in America now with the war on Christmas?). We stopped at a classy chain coffeehouse called "Lavazza" for tea and coffee. The street also featured a school and a church; it was rather charming. The city as a whole could not rightly be described as charming, except maybe by someone on a bad acid trip who needed escape bright colors, but neither was it repulsively depressing. We'll settle for somewhere in between. I do know that I plan never to live there unless the lingerie models in the windows come to life and start doing the can-can in the streets (there were many of these).

Friday was nicer, because we got to walk around without the backpacks, the sun was out, and we could take time to admire the magnificent churches without Jack Frost chomping at our everythings. Unlike the mosques in Istanbul, the churches were still primarily places of worship for locals, not tourist attractions, so it was very nice to be there next to people who were lighting holiday candles for their loved ones while we admired the frescoes and golden altars. They were pretty picky about folks taking pictures in these suckers, so just imagine all the medieval saints you ever saw and thrown them on the walls with a bunch of gold at the front. At the Bania Boshi mosque, they made Meredith put on a green, hooded cloak. More cuteness. I was ready to don one in solidarity, but I wasn't sure if that would be taken the wrong way.

The archaeological museum was another highlight of the afternoon. The archaeo museums in this part of the world tend to be pretty stellar because it is so- relatively- easy to assemble artifacts from the major periods of civilizational development. It was thorough, well-organized, and WARM. That's all I ask. Then we had lunch at a terrific Indian restaurant, which was joyful enough because I haven't had Indian food since this summer, but it really was a quality set-up to boot. The waitress said "bless you" under her breath every time she served something, and it seemed pretty genuine, so that's always a plus. MORE of a plus however was the panir masala that I got. Almost worth the trip by itself. Worth walking across the city for at least.

Saturday morning we went to Rila Monastery, in the mountains to the south of the city. It felt great to finally escape an urban environment, and this was a pretty ideal way to do it. The ride out reminded me so much of Maine that I got deja vu from trips to Sugarloaf a couple times. The frosted pine trees on the sides of the mountains were an instant cure for whatever cynacism I had been starting to feel towards the country. The whole hour and a half that it took to get there after we left the city was beautiful. The monastery itself couldn't have been in a better spot for living a contemplative life, set in a valley high up in the mountains with streams and springs coming down from all directions. I enjoyed just walking around its courtyard and peeling an orange with the sun in my face. The frescoes in the church were very beautiful as well, and there was a monk outside breaking up the ice where water had melted off the roof and frozen on the steps, which gave a feeling of authenticity. After exploring the courtyard and the church, we walked up a path onto the hillside. We came to an uncrossable stream in about a half hour, but I took a nice swim at least before we went back. The water was slightly colder than at Winslow Park in April (note: if Meredith's blog reflects a different set of events at the stream, it's probably because she couldn't believe the cajoneness I displayed).

Highlights from the trip home:
-They couldn't sell us two train tickets at Sofya to Istanbul, so we took the train to Plovidv and got on the same train there. Gotta love public transport in Eastern Europe. I believe Mr. Magoo was just appointed to another three-year term as transport minister of Bulgaria.
-The sleeping car conductor hadn't slept in four days and started ranting about America when I tried to apologize for asking about the sleeper-car prices. I'm reporting him to Mr. Magoo.
-We stopped at Svalingrad (maybe the best name for a border town I have ever crossed at) at 3am for passport control. With a little foresight and hustle, Mery and I were second in line for people from the train to get inspected, meaning another 45 minutes in bed on the train, as opposed to in line wondering the last time the office's potpourri was replaced was.
-We had about 12 hours in Istanbul between when our train arrived and our bus left, so we went to the nice, modern Beyoglu region of the city, and cruised the upscale Istiklal Caddesi. It was a very nice way to spend the afternoon, because we were in Starbucks for a while and I got to read Patrick O'Brian. On the way back to the train station we stopped and watched a Galatasaray futbol match at a hookah bar in their part of town. Good baklava, but a scoreless game.
-It has never felt that good to come "home", when "home" was in a foreign country, because after 36 hours on the road I was really wiped. Merry Christmas to you and your loved ones :)

Ankaragücü Part III

The big difference between the match that Meredith, Jeremy, Seccad, Osman and I went to last Saturday and the one in October was that we sat with crazy fans, instead of the rabidly insane fans. I have since found out that the group we sat with at the first match is known as the (ghetto) fans. When I tell my students that I sat with them at a match I hear how they are all violent hooligans, and I should watch out for my safety. One of the students also informed me I could buy a bomb in the chinchin part of town. It is mostly a class issue, since my students aren't really from the rough areas of Ankara.

At any rate, the Antiko fans we sat with were still as nutso as any you would find in America, even if they didn't have to take breaks from the constant jumping and running side to side. One middle-aged gentleman in particular, dressed in rather European fashion, was fun to stand near. Throughout the match he loudly disparaged the officials and the opposing team (if you've ever been to a Lawrence High School basketball match you can think of about a half dozen people he would remind you of), and each time I got to shout "I agree with him! I am also angry!" This made Meredith laugh, but I think she was also nervous that we weren't the only ones who understood English there.

After the game we went to Kızılay with Seccad and Jeremy for some kokoreç (sheep intestince sausages). Yup, you read that translation right, I ate sheep intestines! And they were spicy. When I mentioned this part of the trip in class, I got a mixture of horrified stares and approving nods, divided along gender lines. Anyway, the sheep innards were great, especially after a long day of cheering and walking across the city to get to them. However, around 1am I had to ask Meredith if I could steal some of her imported antacids; by 2am I realized that American antacids versus spicy Turkish sheep intestines was about as even as my immediate family playing the 2007 Patriots in pick-up football. I haven't seen someone sleep that poorly since one my Summer @ Brown students OD'ed on caffeine pills.

Since then things have been pretty normal, the GI system is slowly recovering and I made bulgur with stir-fried vegetables for Meredith and James and Melanie this Saturday. Wednesday we are leaving for Sofya, Bulgaria for most of Christmas break, although we will be back on campus the 25th because we are working the next day. So wish us luck on the next adventure, and be in touch!

Ankaragucu (Ankara force) Part II


Last week I went to another Ankaragücü futbol match, and it was definitely worth another blog entry, so that's what's coming. In the meantime I have been bogged down with finishing my divinity school application to Harvard (should go out tomorrow), reading about the abolitionists, making gingerbread houses, and of course, teaching my butt off. I can't guarantee I'll get the whole entry in tonight but I'll try. In the meantime, let me just mention:

-The game ended in a 2-2 tie, again. All 8 goals I have seen scored at the Ulus Stadium have come on the same end of the field, the one where I sat with the crazy fans last time (more on them later).

-I bought an Ankaragücü hat and scarf at the match. They have been great conversation starters. Usually the conversations go something like this:
Ankara native: "Ah, you support Ankaragücü?!"
Me: "Yes!"

-My favorite story of the week (maybe the year so far) from class came when my students were telling me how some kids got suspended for throwing snowballs at the statue of the Rector. I said they should have just brought the kids in and let the Rector throw snowballs at them, but hen one of my students pointed out this would set a very difficult precedent for the ones who pissed on the statue.

Leftover Istanbul Photos/Wishes for the Holidays

Below we have a few more pictures from last weekend that I didn't get a chance to put in before, but first I wanted to make a little list for anyone out there who might be wondering what to get me this Christmakkuh/Festivus season. (Don't worry, if you don't have the suction/dinero for any of these I'll always settle for a donation to Heifer International in my name). Without further ado, these things happening in the next month/year/whenever would just make me happy:

• A major nation at least threatening to boycott the Beijing olympics. Peasant oppression is rising, the government is still violating the UN charter-granted rights of at least FOUR major regions to self-determination, the environmental maladies that affect mostly the rural poor are worsening, and the genocide in Darfur is being funded in large part by the sale of natural resources to...the Chinese. There has been nothing but lip service paid to these issues since promises of their melioration was made in order for China to secure its bid. So someone has to be making noise about this in the near future, right?
• For Trent Lott to get the Barry Bonds treatment. I want George Mitchell (Central Maine, holler!) to hand in his report on steroids in baseball, then start digging on Lott. There's gotta be something there, right? We know the guy is a first-rate scumbag, potentially racist (I thought his remarks about Thurmond were interpreted pretty harshly and were mostly just ill-considered) and has dished out more sleazy pork in the last few decades than Jimmy Dean, but he must have crossed some lines in legality in there somewhere as well I would think. He makes the Nevada senator from Godfather II look like Gandhi. If he ends up riding into the sunset to make another fortune lobbying with his son after this I will be rankled. Rankled I tell you.
  
• For Obama to become President. I know we need more woman leaders and role models in this country who wouldn't list "carpet bombing" as an interest in their personal ads. Hillary has an admirable amount of strength and resiliency. But she reminds me of Mrs. Coulter (not Anne, I mean Lyra's mom from the Golden Compass), she's just very jaded. Barack would give a huge infusion of the necessary hopefulness and reform that the country is begging for right now. But instead we are about three months from Obama going the way of Gov. Dean, because Hillary can raise money faster than a liquor salesman greeting sailors on shore leave. Please feel free to interpret points two and three as a plea for us all to work towards publicly financed elections.
• A tax on carbon emissions. When the Economist is pushing for government regulation in a way that would inhibit commerce, it's usually for a good reason.
  
• For the Patriots to scratch punter Chris Hanson for the Jets game, as proposed by the brilliant Bill Simmons. Please.
  

The shore of the Sea of Marmara on the southern side of the Golden Horn in Istanbul (the balloons were strung up as part of a circus-type game where you paid some kids who ran it to try and shoot the balloons with a bb gun, but I'm not sure if you won anything if you shot them [the balloons, not the kids])

The Topkapi Gate, entrance to the palace and the sultan's harem- the inscriptions on the sides there roughly translate to "I got 99 problems but a wife ain't one"

Me in front of the Bosphorus. I can't think of any jokes for this one, so I'd just like to thank Mom and Dad for the orthodontic work once again. Cheers!