Cold Spell

Ukraine is having a cold spell. It's been about -25 degrees in Starobilsk for several days. I've managed to stay pretty warm in my winter clothes, layered up and bundled up like an Eskimo. It's cozy inside Luba's house. I feel lucky, because plenty of PCVs live where heat is limited and reliance on heaters is risky.

When it gets this cold for so long, though, you feel it. The paths and streets are sheer ice. Your fingers and toes start to chill, then cheeks, nose, face. I pull my hat down over my ears, and tighten my hood to ward off the wind. I pull my wool scarf, a great present from my St. Petersburg friend Pat, over my nose and up to my eyes. I am transported to a fiercely cold winter in Madison, Wisconsin, where -30 and -40 temperatures hovered for weeks at a time, and overly-dedicated graduate students, myself among them, actually held long conversations on Bascom Hill about the new books on slavery, while getting frost bite in any exposed area.

Yesterday I had to do errands. I met PCVs Mike Young and Natalie to get my train tickets to Kiev, which they had kindly bought for me, sparing me the hassle of getting tickets with my lousy Russian. I'm going to Chernigov via Kiev for a Russian language refresher tomorrow, obviously much needed. I went to the post office to mail my daughter Elissa a birthday card; her birthday is 19 February and I hope the card gets there before I arrive in mid-March! I stopped at the pharmacy for tylanol and claritan, then at the store for milk and cookies. By the time I got home, I was freezing. I need a better pair of gloves, I've decided, smart wool like my socks.

Today I went to the English Club. Seven brave souls joined me. And yes, they were brave. This is how cold it was: The bazaar was closed today. The bazaar! The bazaar NEVER closes. Too cold for Ukrainians? Well then, I don't feel so bad, a Floridian, complaining about this cold spell

Haiti Will Rise

photos from flikr

Sami, a fomer student in my women's history class at Eckerd College in St. Petersburg, Florida, is a fan of Haiti, its music and culture. She spent time there last year and was taken with the resourcefulness and resilience of the Haitian people, their warmth and generosity. She learned dancing, songs and drumming from a master, and shared in the joys of Haiti's vibrant musical traditions.

Now she is saddened by the devastating earthquake that has killed so many and left thousands homeless, without shelter, without family, without resources. The country is destroyed. Poor long-suffering Haiti.

Haiti has been through one catastrophe after another, political, economic, environmental. She suffered under slavery, broke free, became burdened with debt (something Sami is educating me about), and then struggled with political instability, economic exploitation, and arrogant military rule that all but broke her back.

My mother spent a few months in Haiti many years ago with her sister, whose husband worked for a large American company there. Lots of companies did business in Haiti at that time, paid workers very low wages, and made huge profits. My mother recalled the vast gap between the wealthy few and the poor. She enjoyed working with a church-sponsored orphanage, and she loved the people, their language and art, but she was concerned about the rule of the Duvaliers and the fear their rule evoked: the infamous Papa Doc and Baby Doc and their terrorist groups. It seems it couldn't get worse, but Haiti has only gone downhill since then.

The US has ignored Haiti for far too long, perhaps due in part to its overzealous attention to Cuba, perhaps because it is a nation of African people. We have known about the suffering of Haiti for decades, but American foreign policy, like that of other western nations, has pretty much been one of ignorance and neglect. When the western countries could no longer exploit Haiti, they ignored it, a neglect with dire consequences.

Sami reports that her drum teacher, Zaro, the man who taught her traditional Dahomean songs, and his family, are okay, living homeless on the streets like everyone else, but alive, surviving.

Here is something else she wrote: "Without going into the complex and overwhelmingly frustrating history of Haiti's struggles, I just want to share that one of the main reasons for Haiti's extreme poverty is this: when the slaves rose up and won their independence from the French colonizers in 1804, they were simply not recognized by the international community as sovereign. The US, Great Britain & France placed a ONE BILLION DOLLAR fine on Haiti in return for their independence. Haiti had no way of paying this debt, and they continue to be beholden to it, plus the interest that has continued to accrue since that time, more than 200 years ago." Sami refers to the book The Uses of Haiti by Paul Farmer, an American doctor who has worked in Haiti for many years.

I find this so hard to believe. We are holding Haiti responsible for a debt put on her when she gained independence from France and freedom from slavery? Good lord. Sami said there is an organization that has drafted a petition, asking the US Treasury Secretary to forgive this debt. Please take two seconds and visit www.one.org and sign this petition.

But it seems to me that this is more than a departmental issue: it has to do with US foreign policy and the need for a complete overhaul. What is the purpose of hanging on to this debt now? Why don't we have a coherent and just foreign policy toward Haiti?

Sami finds some comfort in the indominable spirit of the Haitian people. "I bet that they're singing in the streets right now, she writes, "Haitians are always singing! they're making up songs about whatever they see and think and feel, and they're doing it with a prayerful, passionate heart. despite what the media says of violence and 'looting,' I know they're looking out for each other and doing whatever they can to survive."

I join Sami in her hopes for Haiti. I join in mourning for those lost and suffering, among them two cousins of my daughter's friend Laura. They were working among the poor in Haiti, one died, one survived, barely. She was interviewed by Katie Couric, but Laura says it seems Couric neglected to mention what was most important to her surviving cousin, the organization they were working with. We get the heartache sometimes, but not the information we need to help make things better.

We can only hope that the current outpouring of aid will make a difference, rebuild Port au Prince and the country's infrastructure, house the homeless and feed the poor, and that this aid will continue after the country is no longer front page news. Even our small contributions will help (http://www.redcross.org/), but the larger issues must be addressed as well.

Sami puts her hope in the spirit of the people: "I think her people... their culture and music and rhythms and food and ceremonies and energy and all-around zest for life are far too beautiful and powerful and strong to let another set-back hold them down for long. Haiti will rise. Haiti will rise."

Post-Election Blues

The count is still going on. Thousands of handwritten paper ballots. No computers. All in the hands of the counters. Maybe that's where things can happen.

Election day seemed to go well. It was a sunny day, very cold, below zero. The dome of Saint Nicolas glistened in the sun against a cobalt-blue sky. I went to join Vera at School #1 to poll watch, informally, but it turns out I didn't have the right credentials and I got booted out (nicely of course).

So I watched people go in and out for a while. A long table held literature on all the candidates. The polling booths looked a lot like those in America. People were intent, serious.

I was impressed that so many older people voted. The elderly gentleman with the cane (photo) came by taxi. Othes were helped by adult children. I wondered what they were thinking, what stories they could tell.

I'm not sure where things stand now. As I understand it, no one has a majority of votes. With 18 candidates, the votes are spread out and their impact diluted. On top right now is Victor Yanukovych (with about 35% of the vote) and second is Julia Tymoshenko (25%), current prime minister and foe of outgoing president Yuchenko. The top two vote getters will face off in another election on 1 February.

I'm no political expert, but around here no one likes Yanukovych. He's an old-guard old-timer, people say, dominated by the oligarchs. His base is in Donetsk, his hometown, where he is pals with some of the richest men in Ukraine. He was, in fact, the candidate the Orange Revolution ousted in the fraudulent election six years ago. His candidacy this time around seems like a bold-faed snub of that democratic protest.

Luba yells at the TV every time he comes on or his percentage of the votes goes up. She shakes her head in disbelief. My friends Olga and Tonya feel the same way. How in the world is this happening? Why did people vote for this guy? I think it's how I felt when Al Gore won the election and then the Supreme Court gave it to George W. Bush. A sinking feeling of helplessness and outrage. Post-election blues.

Some pundits believe the vote for Yanukovich represents disappointment about the results of the Orange Revolution. So little has changed, so many promises are unfulfilled, things have gotten worse. It's the "disappointment" vote.

I am interested in the low-end of the election count--those 12 or so young, well-educated candidates who got 3% to 13% of the vote. They represent fresh faces and fresh thinking. Many were educated abroad, Natalia told me. If they got together in a honest government party, they could hold the future of Ukraine in their hands. New leaders are emerging, getting their names out there. I expressed this to Natalia, and she agreed. It's not coming fast enough for her, but I see hope on the horizon. "I love your optimism," she says.

The election's not over yet. The upcoming run-off election won't bring in new faces; it will be Yanukovich or Tymoshenko. Those people I talk to in Starobbilsk hope it will be the latter. They think she may get an anti-Yanokovich vote. Hope springs eternal. The future of Ukraine is still up for grabs.

Ukraine's Got Talent!

My friend Lorin Cary, the father of our daughters Elissa and Michelle, sent me this message about the incredible talent of a young Ukrainian artist. I'm glad he did because I somehow missed it. The message said:

Absolutely incredible talent. Do yourself a favor and go to YouTube - Kseniya Simonov's Amazing Sand Drawing. Read the text below and then go back to click on the web site. It is beautiful.

This video shows the winner of 2009’s "Ukraine’s Got Talent," Kseniya Simonova, 24, drawing a series of pictures on an illuminated sand table showing how ordinary people were affected by the German invasion during World War II. Her talent, which admittedly is a strange one, is mesmeric to watch.

This brilliant preformance, projected onto a large screen, moved many in the audience to tears and she won the top prize of about $75,000.

She begins by creating a scene showing a couple sitting holding hands on a bench under a starry sky, but then warplanes appear and the happy scene is obliterated.

It is replaced by a woman’s face crying, but then a baby arrives and the woman smiles again. Once again war returns and Miss Simonova throws the sand into chaos from which a young woman’s face appears.

She quickly becomes an old widow, her face wrinkled and sad, before the image turns into a monument to an Unknown Soldier.

This outdoor scene becomes framed by a window as if the viewer is looking out on the monument from within a house.

In the final scene, a mother and child appear inside and a man standing outside, with his hands pressed against the glass, saying goodbye.

The Great Patriotic War, as it is called in Ukraine , resulted in one in four of the population being killed with eight to 11 million deaths out of a population of 42 million.

An art critic said:
"I find it difficult enough to create art using paper and pencils or paintbrushes, but using sand and fingers is beyond me. The art, especially when the war is used as the subject matter, even brings some audience members to tears. And there’s surely no bigger compliment."

Let me know what you think.

Here is a Russian translation of the above:
Нажмите сюда, чтобы посмотреть эту блестящую Характеристика
Изображения проецируются на большой экран, переехали многие в этой аудитории до слез, и она завоевала главный приз около $ 75000.

Она начинается с создания сцены показаны пару взявшись за руки, сидят на скамейке под звездным небом, но затем появляются военные самолеты и стирается счастливой сцене.

Он заменил по лицу женщины плакали, а потом приходит ребенок, и женщина опять улыбается. Снова война возвращается и мисс Симонова бросает песок в хаос, из которого лицо молодой женщины, по-видимому.

Она быстро становится старой вдовы, ее лицо сморщилось и печально, прежде чем изображение превращается памятнику Неизвестному солдату.

Это наружная сцена становится обрамлении окна, так как, если зритель смотрит на памятник изнутри дома.

В финальной сцене, матери и ребенка появляются внутри, так и человека, стоящего на улице, руки прижаты к стеклу, прощаясь.

Великая Отечественная война, как ее называют в Украине, привели к одной из четырех населения убивают с восьми до 11 миллионов случаев смерти из общего населения в 42 млн. долл. США.

Художественный критик сказал:
"Мне трудно достаточно, чтобы создать искусства, используя бумагу и карандаш или кисть, но с использованием песка и пальцами это за меня. Искусства, особенно после окончания войны использовались в качестве предмета, даже приводит Некоторые зрители до слез. И есть, безусловно не больший комплимент.

Report on our 2009 English Club

I wanted to have this report for my memory file, so here it is. Starobilsk's first English Club had a good first year. It had its starts and stops, due to my broken arm and a flu quarantine, but we got the Club up and going. It's been a blessing. This is a summary report of Year 1 as agreed to by members and submitted to Library director Iryna Andreevna.

To Iryna:
The meeting on 20 December 2009 was the 12th meeting of the Starobilsk English Club, which began meeting at the Central Rayon Library on 19 September 2009. This is Starobilsk's first English Club.

Attendance ranged from five to 15 members of all ages and proficiency levels. A corps group comes every week; we also have new people come to each meeting, so we are a varied group. Our youngest member, Vlad, is twelve years old; we have 8-10 students from Schools #1,2, 3 and 4 who attend. They are new to the language and have a limited but growing vocabulary. Some proud parents bring their children. Other members include English-language students from university, teachers of English, and other adults from the community interested in practicing their English.

The English Club has three purposes: 1) to improve speaking English; 2) to get together with people learning English; and 3) to have the chance to talk and meet other English speakers.
The topics of our meetings have been American and Ukrainian holidays, our traditions, seasons, the 50 American states, world geography, travel, family, and discussions of photos, songs, maps, and poetry.

Some meetings had music and performance, such as Alosha on guitar, Ira dancing, Luda and Olga singing, and poetry reading. These meetings show the many talents of our Club. Members also created a Fall Haiku Tree, with their own Haiku poems, and a poster Christmas Tree with their own beautiful decorations.

Fran Cary, our Peace Corps Volunteer, asks these questions: Who are you? What do you see? What do you think? What do you like to do? What does this mean? She likes to show maps, pictures and photos. At a meeting about Halloween she read a poem about a mother and her son going "tricks-or-treating." She was a "flapper" and he was a "soldier." We talked about this tradition and then she told us the poem was written by her mother, and the son was her brother! We like learning about Fran's family and America. These are mostly games as a way of talking, learning, and saying what we think and how we are feeling.

It is okay if we do not remember words, or get stuck in a sentence, because we are ALL learners. We understand that it takes practice to speak a foreign language.

At our 20 December meeting we had a Christmas party. Christmas is celebrated on 25 December in America, with songs and gift-giving. It is a big family holiday. The librarians, Lada and Alla, prepared a wonderful table for us, and decorated it with holiday trees. Members brought cookies and desserts. Fran expressed thanks for the kindness and positive spirit of members.

This group discussed the meeting on 13 December about having an "only-English" rule. Fran said it was good to have such a discussion with many different opinions, and they were all excellent.

The members at our 20 December meeting expressed strong opinion that there be no rules, especially because of the wide range of ages and proficiencies. Members felt we should focus on speaking English but use Russian when necessary.

Luda led a discussion of different topics and themes we could discuss at our meetings in 2010. She did a great job. Here is her list:
* Folk music/fairy tales and cultural traditions
* English poems, old and modern
* Travel/different countries we have visited
* Life is like: A broad topic that can include what women want, what men want, new/older generations, teenagers, healthy lifestyles.
* The Earth is Our Home
* Food and cooking
* World famous universities
* Women in Ukraine
* The World of Books: about writers, famous authors, novels and books
* Historic and interesting places to visit
* Cinema Land, Hollywood, Bollywood (India), old and new films
* Happy days
* Fashion

Fran hopes everyone will pick their favorite topic and help lead a discussion, or come with some ideas and games to share.

The next meeting of the English Club is Sunday 3 January 2010. This will be a new year and a new decade for our Starobilsk English Club.

With special thanks to the Library, the librarians who help us, Luda for helping with this report, and Iryna Andreevna, director.

Ukraine Votes Tomorrow!

There's a big presidential election In Ukraine tomorrow, Sunday, January 17.

It is the first national election since the Orange Revolution in 2004. That's when thousands of Ukrainians, dressed in orange, gathered peacefully in Kiev, the capital, and across the country, for fair elections and to protest and overturn the fraudulent election of state-supported Victor Yanukovych.

The re-vote put in the current president, Victor Yushchenko, on Dec 26, 2004. Optimism and hope for democratic reform were at an all-time high. They have been declining ever since.

Six years after the Orange Revolutiopn, many people feel it will be a waste of time to vote. Too many promises unfulfilled. The economy a disaster. All the candidates are the same, all corrupt. The oligarchs, the wealthy few, rule.

Can the upcoming election be stolen again? asked the Kyiv Post, an English language newspaper. Yes, many people think so. Nationwide polls confirm this.

It's complicated but a big part of the problem has to do with Ukraine's new presidential election law, which many consider to be flawed because for one thing it limits post-election challenges of voter fraud. The chairman of the Committee of Voters of Ukraine, a nationwide election watch dog, said "those not acting in good fatih will have every opportunity to commit fraud." (Kiev Post, 27 November, 2009.)

I hope he's wrong. There will be many national and international watchdogs during the election. My counterpart Vera, director of the human rights NGO Victoria, will be one of them here in Starobilsk. I am going to join her tomorrow so I can see for myself.

There are many candidates, some 18 I think, but the front runners are current Prime Minister Yulia Tymoshenko, as brilliant as she is beautiful, and Victor Yanukovich of the Party of Regions. They are also the politicians who crafted this new legislation and pushed it through the parliament. They don't inspire great confidence, Yanukovich because he was the candidate ousted after the last fraudulent election, and Tymoshenko because no one believes what she says. Some people I talk to in Starobilsk support Tymoshenko as the lesser of the evils, however. It might be good for Ukraine to have a woman president, they say.

What will tomorrow bring for Ukraine? I am more hopeful than most Ukrainians, but we shall see.

Home: Places of the Heart

Home in Starobilsk

My mind has been in Istanbul lately, but my visit is over and for all my musings I am happy to be back in Starobilsk. I missed my Ukrainian family and friends, and they missed me. They were eager to welcome me back and to hear about Istanbul. Luba and son Sergei greeted me with big hugs and warm smiles. Friends stopped me on the street. The English Club presented a loving poem. I had come home.

Actually, I've had several homes in my lifetime: in Rochester, Boston, Madison, Toledo, Washington, DC, Saint Petersburg. I make home wherever I am, and wherever I am is home.

Each of these homes represents a stage in my life: Childhood through high school in Rochester; college in Boston; graduate school in Madison; family, community life, and teaching women's history at the university in Toledo; community and humanities work in Washington; retirement in Saint. Petersburg; Peace Corps Volunteer in Chernigov and now in Starobilsk, my newest home.

I have loved all my homes. Toledo remains special because my children and grandchildren and great-grandson Philip live there. Wherever they are, my spirit is too. When I lived in Washington and Saint Petersburg, I couldn't wait for my next visit to Toledo, or for visits from my children and grandchildren. It's still the same. My heart is in Toledo.

But it is also with family and friends in all the places I have lived. My memories, my hopes, my dreams. The sad times and good times, the mistakes and the joys. They are chapters in a life, each with a story to tell.

I feel fortunate to have had so many wonderful homes. My mind wanders between and among all of them. They locate my memories. The geography of my life. Places of the heart.

In the Now Again

My body is in Starobilsk, but my mind is in Istanbul. I started out to write a blog on Istanbul, and ended up writing four. It gets under your skin, and it's hard to let go. On the other hand, you never really do let go of a travel experience. It becomes part of who you are.

It takes me a while to process these experiences. It's one thing to be there, discovering, enjoying, reveling. It's another thing to get back home with the photos and the memories. I'm a different person now in the now because I was in Istanbul in the past.

You take the now of travel with you wherever you go, forever, and make it yours. It's not as if one can say okay, I'm here now, in Starobilsk, so Istanbul doesn't exist. It's in the past. Of course it exists, our experiences exist, but now in a different form, in a different way.

I want to relish these experiences. I want to satisfy my ego. The now will always be here. It is here every day. It's accessible. For now, I want to be in Istanbul in my mind. I can choose to be in the now later, tomorrow, another time.

Here I go again, spinning off into a discussion of being in the "now." Why am I doing this? I don't fully understand it, but there it is. Resistance? Thinking about the continuum of existence? Thinking about mortality?

Whirling Dervishes, Captured Tourists: The Sacred and the Secular

A friendly, smiling, English-speaking PR man (that's what I took to calling them) stops us in our tracks in front of a restaurant as we walk along the Divanyolu Caddesi, the Tram street and I believe the old Roman highway. It's a ubiquitous drama: the main means of pulling in business in Istanbul. It works, too.

He asks where we are from, chats amiably, then gets down to business: he wants to tell us about the evening's whirling dervishes ceremony and sufi music concert. His job is to sell tickets, and he is good at it. Great food, great entertainment, he assures us. We look at each other, check the menu, and buy our tickets.

These pitches are hard to resist, like those of the rug salesmen who are stationed at every tourist site and about a few blocks apart throughout Sultanamet.

There's no avoiding them. The rugs are beautiful; the pitch is a lesson in art and cultural history; and the apple tea is delicious. They treat you like sultans while trying to convince you to spend your money. The shop owner talks about the rugs in vivid detail, while his helper dramatically unfurls rug after rug. I wish I had bought a dozen rugs; I felt bad after every pitch, as if letting someone down.

We had talked about seeing the whirling dervises so we succumbed to this friendly pitch with pleasure. It was a good deal. Both the food (fresh seabass) and the ceremony were memorable. The PR man had filled the restaurant. We were captured tourists.

The whirling dervishes ceremony, a swirl of white billowing skirts, has its roots in Sufism, a mystical form of Islam dating back to Persia. The dervishes were followers of poet and philosopher Mevlana Rumi. In this modern age, as I understand it, the dervishes ceremony is more spiritual than religious.

The purpose is still the same: to get closer to God. The dervishes twirl into a meditative state, their turning accompanied by Sufi music--a violin, flute, bass board, and hand drum--evoking the sights and sounds of ancient Turkey.

A pamphlet on the ceremony describes it this way: "Departing from his ego,a dervish turns toward truth and spiritual perfection, returning a fulfilled, mature, loving person devoted to service to all creatures without prejudice or discrimination of belief, race, class or nationality."

We were witnesses to this transformation. The dervishes in reverie beam with serenity, an aura of bliss surrounding them.

As Rumi said, "This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet."

Is it any wonder why Turkey fascinates? We were tourists captured in the lyrical love poem that is Istanbul.

Turkish Delights

"The Greek colony of Byzantium was transformed into Christian Constantinople in AD 330 and became Islamic Istanbul after the Turkish conquest of 1455....For over 2,000 years travelers have been dazzled by the marvels and mysteries of Istanbul."
John Feely, Istanbul (Penquin Books, 1996)

"It's amazing where life takes you if you take life as it comes," I wrote in my last post on Istanbul.

I was thinking about how I got from St. Petersburg, Florida, to Starobilsk, Ukraine, and from there found a way to Istanbul for Christmas 2009. It just happened. A convergence of time and place, a twist of fate, perhaps. Not that Jud, Jason and I didn't do some planning, but life just seemed to take us there.

Author John Feely is right: we were dazzled. Istanbul, a penisular city of 15 million people, brims with things to see and do. We absorbed as much as we could, and marveled at the city's beauty and diversity. We were also taken with simple things, like how clean the city is, everywhere we went; how excellent the public transportation system; how bright the lights, how clear the nights; how friendly the people, how welcoming, and so many spoke English.

Istanbul's textured life, woven from the threads of many cultures, fills the senses and feeds the soul like an exquisite Turkish carpet. Elegance and attention to detail are woven into the fabric of its urban life. The blend of cultures is as sublime as a Persian rug, as delicious as a Turkish stew.

The grand mosques and palaces, the lively neighborhoods, the busy harbour, fantastic shops and restaurants, the great bazaars, predominate. Yet, many Turkish delights on a more modest scale than those fit for emperors and sultans also amaze and amuse.

Topkapi Park on our way to the FerryWe were on our way to catch a ferry at Eminonu to take us across the Bosphorus to Asia when we discovered we could walk through a park. It was Topkapi Park, part of the grounds of the magnificent Topkapi palace and the famous Archeological Museums. Compared to these massive and elegant architectural giants, the park is simple and quiet. It was a nice day and we decided to keep walking rather than visit these popular tourists attractions. This kind of spontaneous thinking about where to go kept us from ever going inside either the palace or the museums, but, we assured each other, we would do that on our next visit.

I loved walking through the park at a leisurely pace with Jud and Jason. As we passed flower gardens, fountains, and a statue of Ataturk (a hero I want to learn more about), we could see the bustling harbor through the bare winter trees. The branches formed an archway that framed the harbour and the tall minaret of a mosque like an Islamic stained glass window.

Sometimes on the way to doing something you happen upon something else, lovely surprises. The Park was one of them. It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes from novelist Ursula:LeGuin: "It is good to have an end to journey toward: but it is the journey that matters in the end."

Standing in AsiaNone of us had been to Asia, so we liked the idea of taking a ferry across the beautiful Bosphorus to the other side of the city, the Asian side. It's incredible to me that Istanbul has a European and an Asian side, a true gateway between east and west. I think it's the only city in the world that can make this claim. The Bosphorus was a valley that split apart thousands of years ago to form the European and Asian continents. Just the idea astonishes.

We found the right ferry at Eminonu and took our seats. The crossing was pleasant but it seemed momentous, as if we were players in a great historical drama. Jud met an interesting man who formerly worked for NATO, lives in Budapest and was visiting his native land. The man invited Jud to visit anytime in Budapest. I told Jud I'd be happy to accompany him. PCVs can be very bold!

We walked off the gangplank into a another beautiful park, this one full of cafes, flower vendors, and shops. We didn't get very far into Asia. We were just glad to say we had been there. We stood on Asian land. We strolled a bit, smelled the flowers, and sat for a delicious cup of apple tea.

The Egyptian (Spice) Market
Warm hospitality and the vibrant colors of spices are among the main ingredients for a wonderful Istanbul adventure. That's why there's nothing like going to the Spice Market on a gray, rainy day. The colors of cinammon, saffrons, chilis and other spices from Egypt lit the Bazaar even when the lights were out. Yes,

in fact the lights did go out while Jud and I strolled among the various stalls buying some spcies and teas for gifts. No problem. Candles were light, lanterns fired up, and the colors of the Bazaar burst forth like fireworks in a dark night sky on the 4th of July.

BookstoresWalking along the tramway is a good way to see the city, and catch a ride if need be. The walk is wonderful for capturing the sights and sounds of Turkish culture, and that's how we happened upon two great bookstores. We spent quite a bit of time in the first shop browsing through books about Istanbul. We resisted the temptation to buy books (hard to do) and walked across the street to the second bookstore, called "Window to the World." This is a modern bookstore with a wide selection of books on every aspect of Turkish history and culture. "The widest selection in the world," its advertizing boasts.

Imagine browsing through books on Anatolian design ideas, Turkish cuisine, Iznik ceramics and carpets, Islamic architecture, Byzantine art, the Ottoman empire, the Bosphorus, Turkish poetry. Many of these books are in English, which meant Jud and I could spend hours going through them. And we did, I think to the manager's dismay. When I wrote down the above quote from the John Feely book on Istanbul (turns out he's one of the best-known authors on Turkey), the manager came to look over my shoulder. I put the book aside and went browsing again, selecting a package of beautiful notecards to buy, a dozen different tile designs. Jud noticed the transaction and said it looked like I was making amends! I think I was, but now I wish I had bought a few books.

A Turkish coffee and delicious pastry at a nearby cafe topped off our leisurely tour along the tramway. Turkish delights!