Taksım

Off to a Turkish Bath then the final glimpse of the mighty and glorious golden Bosphorus before catching the bus to Sabina-Gokçen.

Either our history shall with full mouth
Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave,
Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth,
Not worshipp'd with a waxen epitaph.

Much more to come. Just another TFI from the road. Remember these.

Of Coincidence and Inevitability

Here's another good tale of randomness, and larger reflections on the largeness of the next two weeks.

From a post dated December 12, 2005 and entitled "Next Blog" -

You'll notice in the upper right corner of this screen (if you haven't already) Blogger's "next blog" feature tab. The perfect tool for late night procrastination, when you are too tired to pick up that novel but not tired enough to rest. A slow, restful evening.

Here are a handful of entries found tonight. So many stories out there. 1. New York is one of the world's most wonderful cities - this guy has added one more classic reason why. 2. Courage and fair weather to these 'round-the-world adventurers, who embark at the end of the month. What an itinerary! While out West, I picked up a guide/history book, The Silk Roads. Only a matter of time 'til we are standing in Samarkand. 3. If you go to United Irelander, scroll down a bit and keep your eyes on the left hand side of the screen. Within moments, presto: the video of the greatest Christmas song of all time, Fairytale of New York by the Pogues. "I built my dreams around you."And on and on...

Must step out to drop a letter off to a relative stranger for safe passage to its destination. Wish it well.

I think that was the night I sent the first of three letter carriers (only two successful) to Irvington. In any case, many months later, it struck me that I might check in on the progress of the two travelers. By that time, their sight-seeing odyssey had ended, and what was left to the casual reader was a catalogue of entries naming some of the world's great cities, and I scrolled down through the most recent of the entries. The one picture embedded with the text - of a room in a cave hotel - caught my eye and got filed somewhere in the recesses of the brain. And time passed.

From a post dated November 20, 2006 entitled "Wouldn't Take Nothing for my Journey Now" -

A weekend of recovery - unsurprisingly - followed Friday's flowing of single malt. It was about 1/2 way through the event, when I had a glass refilled with Johnny Blue or the walk across the ballroom to the next station, that I realized the occasion had moved beyond "tasting" to actual "drinking". Then it was Grand Marnier, and then further cocktails, as another Friday merged into the Saturday hours and incoherence.

Trying desperately to get back into a proper Monday frame of mind, and failing miserably. Instead, advertised international seat sales from our national carrier have me asking the vagabond's age-old question: "Quo Vadimus?" The answer, from nowhere, might just be to Byzantium. Constantinople. Istanbul. By any name as glorious, as lonely planet claims.

For I was originally scheming about a flight back to England for 10 days or so in February, to rewalk the favored Thames and rehaunt a few Oxford college
bops. That plan still holds, especially as Patrick Stewart will be holding court in the West End as Antony. Still the question remained: what to do in between the celebratory weekends to make the trek that much more worthy of an epic label?

Easyjet quickly supplied the magical 78 pounds all-in option: Luton to Istanbul - Sabiha Gökçen roundtrip. Four nights among its magical bazaars and dervishs, and a first step into Asia prior to the dreamed of Moscow-Samarkand-Beijing odyssey of 2009. A veritably perfect voyage.

So, fired off the email to old flatmate Berat Yardmici to see if he still lives in his favorite city, and googled through a few cheap hostels. Will sleep on it one night before flight bookings tomorrow, but as with the genesis of other truly great traveling ideas, I already sense an inevitability.

"If one had but a single glance to give the world," Alphonse de Lamartine said, "one should gaze on Istanbul." Amazing to think that upon waking this morning I had utterly no plan, thought, real opportunity, or hope of doing so. Now it seems a short three months away.

As you should surely now know, gentle reader, that February England trip did occur. The Thames was walked (and an empty bottle of Chardonnay was added to it). Patrick Stewart was seen, although as Prospero not Antony. Attended another Balliol Bop (the timing was "on song" as one old classmate noted) which was marvelous but for the dropping of the miraculously returned camera. But no Istanbul. Berat was finishing his army service, so I ended up riding round the Ring of Kerry and kissing the Blarney stone instead that February, before entertaining the Parisians back at the Bond dinner at St. John's with Vaclav. And time passed.

From a post dated August 29, 2007 entitled "a little bit of Byzantium" -

Oh you easyjet and your accessible fares. I may have just found the plan for December that will fulfill an old traveling vow and serve as Prelude to the great Silk Road trek imagined for 2009. For I received an email from the poet Yardimci this morning that confirms his ability to accommodate, and my does he not have a way with run-on words that builds excitement:

So u should definitely make it guys that time. It is fine with me. Even I cant join u in the day time. I will take u out on the nights to Bosphorus or all others. There are loads to do in Istanbul. Many things to do. U should get a Lonely Planet Guide. I can assure u u will have enjoyable time with everything mixed a little bit of Ottoman alittle bit of East Roman a little bit of Byzantium a little bit of Jewish way of living. little bit of Islam, little bit of Mevlana, a bit of Belly dancing, a bit of eating scrumptious food, some sea view, ghetto way of living, agia sophia, well by that time I think there will be snow really.

Beautiful. And just a short jaunt from Istanbul to the cave hotels of Cappadocia and the caravanserais and a land of true foreign mystery. I swear I love planning trips
almost more than I enjoy embarking on them. Though I suppose it is the knowledge
that I will be following the path dreamed up, set out, and booked from this
cubicle that fills the planning with such exhilaration. My will be done.

So the flyzoom flights were booked secretly, the Parisian confirmed her dates, Gongshow got married and I saw the Grand Canyon, the vastness of the Internet was perused in search of ideas/accommodations. I recalled the "next blog" post and the around-the-world travellers and the cave hotel picture, as it seemed within reach of Istanbul. I discovered that the strange terrain of Cappadocia was indeed a possibility and I sought out further information on the cave hotels therein that seemed simply superlative. I found the exact room that those travellers had stayed in was in a little town known as Uchisar, founded and run by some French nationals, which would suit my traveling companion well. So I thought - destiny looking over my shoulder a bit - that this particular suite would have to be booked.

But something else happened as the summer bled into fall - the Canadian dollar appreciated marvellously against the American to reach virtual and then actual parity and then more. So those magical hotels that priced themselves in dollars seemed much greater value than those of the Euro. This made the "Studio les Chevres", already costly and now too rich by half, to use a phrase. The reviews of Yunak Evleri in Urgup seemed as lauditory, if not more so, and so that die was cast - albeit with some reluctance that the initial random blog post that drew my eye to the very existence of Cappadocia as a destination would not be followed through to its completion.

And yet - as the writers say - and yet. Which brings us to mid-November 2007, and the hilarious news from Paris that some benefit had been forgotten that would see the hotel expenses of employees reimbursed up to 160 Euros. The catch, absurdly, was that the funds must be directly deposited by wire transfer. Given that my reservations had been made mostly at lowlier hostelesq places where this was not possible, or else the first night had already been charged to the credit card, we seemed unable to take advantage. Until the inevitable thought returned, the schedule juggled accordingly to accommodate two nights in Cappadocia instead of one (always the smarter plan, but requiring more frenetic discovery of Istanbul), and a speculative email was sent. The reply confirmed the room was free the night in question, as it had to, and so the very maximum availablee sum of 160 Euros was claimed to cover the evening's cost. And another person's blog and journey, accidently discovered and later accidently remembered, come around (a bit) full circle.

All of which is to say - I'm off again. Another magical trip across the dark Atlantic. Another resounding "yes" to adventure. Another communal visit to the Thames. Even another Patrick Stewart Shakespearean turn, perhaps. Who can ever say?

Strange to think of this outcome - that however some parts of the program have been foreshadowed, the kid who wrote those past posts would have laughed in sure belief of the twisted roads leading to it. That is a way of living your current days, I suppose: do all you can to ensure that both your past and future selves stand to be impressed at the depth of your dreams, commitment to coincidence, and certainty of execution.

I like how I've discovered in recent days that the Turks refer to the Silk Road as Uzun Yol, the Long Road. It is long, yet there remain signposts at which we stop, reflect, and measure progress. Such is next week. Standing under the shadows of some caravanserai in Asia next week at this time, my first foray into that vast continent and first meager steps upon the ancient and blessed trade route complete, how not to be overwhelmed? That being the entire point, of course. Or in another's words, discovered a month after returning from the British Open at St. Andrew's and noted for good measure on August 17, 2005, before all the other posts and events above: "Is it not meritorious, O Sheik? Doth not thy Prophet himself say: "Voyaging is victory"

Al-safar Zafar indeed. More in two weeks. When I cannot promise (he smiles happily) that I'll ever be quite the same.

By Wit, and not by Witchcraft

IAGO
How poor are they that have not patience!
What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
Thou know'st we work by wit, and not by witchcraft;
And wit depends on dilatory time.
Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thee.
And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier'd Cassio:
Though other things grow fair against the sun,
Yet fruits that blossom first will first be ripe:
Content thyself awhile. By the mass, 'tis morning;
Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
Retire thee; go where thou art billeted:
Away, I say; thou shalt know more hereafter:
Nay, get thee gone.


And so I soon shall. With any luck to watch young Obi-wan McGregor deliver that same speech in but a fortnight. Oh magical time, that makes all good traveling thoughts of mine inevitable. The hours do grow short for Istanbul. "Just a week mate" says Berat. Indeed. Just a week.

Vagabonding

One week. The bosses tactfully informed. The Parisian company confirmed. The last true voyage of 2007. Another return to the marvelous Thames. The smile perpetual. One week.

Is there anything more enjoyable than booking accommodations in far off climes online? I have just confirmed a few nights at the Bahaus Guesthouse in Istanbul. The terms and conditions of the stay absolutely delightful (favorite comments in bold):

THE CONDITIONS OF STAYING IN BAHAUS GUESTHOUSE
1- There is an age limit . Under 14 years old and over 50 years old are not able to stay.
2-You are not allowed to bring food and drink in our Bar-Restaurant-Cafeteria lounge.
3- In case of delay to your original arrival time, we can only keep the bed or room another 4 more hour. After that we reserve our right to sell the bed or rooms to someone else unless you let us know by email, fax or calling.
4- We prefer the amount of payment due to be paid in cash (Euro, Dollar, Pound or Türkish lira). We charge 5% commision on credit card payments.
5- You can not go around topless or naked in the Hostel. You cannot sleep naked in dorm rooms.
6- We do not allow local friends that you meet in the city to use our facilities (Bar-Restaurant-Laundry- Internet ext...)
7- We do not make any discount to anyone. Do not ask for that.
8- We have a no refund policy.
9- We can store your luggage up to 3 days for free. More than that we charge 2€ per day.
10- In case you forget or lose things, we do not accept any responsibility and cannot post any of the items back to you.
11- We do not let anyone scream, shout or be abusive. We do not let anyone become filthy drunk and bother other customers.
12-We do not let our female customers be bothered or hassled if they do not wish it.
13- You cannot wash your clothes in the bathrooms.
14- If you leave your personal things in the common bathrooms for a long time, we reserve our right to throw them away.
15- You cannot use our technical equipment or any other hostel belongings without our permission.
16- You cannot use, touch or sleep in another persons bed in the dormitories.
17- We request you to be respectful and thoughtful of other guests by being as quiet as possible after midnight.
18- We do not accept the local customer.

Oh, you seductive open road.

simple 'scapes (or, this gear)

Keys to the treasure - found. And I am not the first to puke in mine own porcelain bowl.

And more, Confidence in that note to boadly proclaim the Istanbul on monday hence. The refuge of the Universe. The tapping music of the steppes. Beauty.

I trust I missed my habitual last night. But fortune, as she lies, is a... Read on:


LAUNCELOT

Father, in. I cannot get a service, no; I have
ne'er a tongue in my head. Well, if any man in
Italy have a fairer table which doth offer to swear
upon a book, I shall have good fortune. Go to,
here's a simple line of life: here's a small trifle
of wives: alas, fifteen wives is nothing! eleven
widows and nine maids is a simple coming-in for one
man: and then to 'scape drowning thrice, and to be
in peril of my life with the edge of a feather-bed;
here are simple scapes. Well, if Fortune be a
woman, she's a good wench for this gear. Father,
come; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the twinkling of an eye.

Exeunt Launcelot and Old Gobbo

that on the Vitals preys

"Made from cheap corn and fermented juniper berries, gin was partly responsible for the rising crime and lower life-expectancy in London, where gin mills frequently advertised "drunk for a penny, dead drunk for two pence, clean straw provided."

Beauty. Storm in Halifax, hunkered down in the old Henry House on a steady flow of microbrew. On that third pint, when the brain begins its tingling and the point of no return gets crossed. Roll on to the unexpected, the wind and rain say, roll fuckin' on.

movement/settlement

Hell of a week, let us put it that way. Wonderful Moussaka today, and conversation - "istanbul, you will love it" - and cats and storms and city councillors. Welcome after the hectic work week and move from Barrington to Brunswick, from 412 to 911. Packing up one's life into a UHaul for transport is always an experience. Especially in the midst of the flurry of issues at the office. Following a long day of back-and-forth, there seems to be a consensus that will open the door to consider other matters and jet off in mere weeks without incident. Or little incident. As well as the third shelving of some very good questions.

At any rate, a successful week. Excited by the developments, there was thought of participation in unrelated celebrations this evening, but a sudden brick wall was hit. Life is rounded by a little sleep, someone wrote, and tonight that sleep is blissful. 3 weeks until the Thames.