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La Alberca, Spain

"From lost to the river" is the English translation of a popular Spanish saying. If there was an English equivalent, it would be the exclamation, "I'll sleep when I am dead!"

During our recent linguistic and cultural adventure in La Alberca, an old village in Western Spain, Casey and I learned a lot about the Spanish language, and concomitantly, a great deal about the Spanish lifestyle. We arrived at La Alberca with an English immersion program called "Pueblo Ingles." The program brings together 25 native English speakers and 25 Spaniards with intermediate and advanced English skills for a week of conversation and fun. They put the English speakers up for free in a fabulous hotel in exchange for our jabber. Based on the more that 15 hours a day Casey and I spent chatting, eating, debating, and dancing with our new Spanish friends, "from lost to the river" is not only a Spanish saying, it is also a way of life here in Spain.

A typical day looked like this:
8:00am to 8:45, Yoga and/or get ready for the day (one of the English volunteers is a certified yoga instructor)

9:00am to 10:00, Breakfast buffet and dining at tables of 4 (2 English speakers and 2 Spaniards at each table)

11:00am to 1:00pm, One on Ones in 50 minutes sessions (for every 50 minute slot I was paired up with a different Spaniard. We could discuss everything and anything so long as we are mindful of controversial subjects like American politics and the Spanish civil war. Among the many topics that came up in my conversations were online dating, 9/11, the cost of private education, the Iron Man triathlon, and, of course, Spanish cuisine)

1:00pm to 2:00pm, Two on Two (two English speakers and two Spaniards are paired up with a list of questions they can randomly choose from to jump start the conversation. Among the topics I discussed were women in the workplace, childhood pranks, and the question: "What would you do with 5 million Euros?" Mom and Dad, you will be happy to hear I allocated at least 1 million of those Euros to you, which won me some major points with the moms in my group)

2:00pm to 3:00pm, Plated lunch at tables of 4

3:00pm to 5:00pm, Siesta (while this is typically a time for napping or resting, Casey and I often used it to venture to the nearby village, La Alberca, just a short walk from the isolated hotel. La Alberca is a world heritage sight and it looks the same as it did 800 years ago. The town's citizens have maintained the old village tradition of caring for a community pig. It lives in the town square where it is fed by benevolent villagers throughout the day, then sleeps in one of their homes each night. It is big and black and very friendly.)

5:00pm to 6:00pm, Group activity (in random group of 6 or 7, we are presented with a challenge that we must discuss and present to the larger group at the end of the hour. These were very challenging, but fun, as they often required the English speakers and Spaniards to collaborate quickly in a creative way. On day, we picked the "Leader of the World" based on a 4 ambiguous profiles. Once everyone presented on their selection, the program leader announced that the profiles were based on real people: Hitler, Mother Theresa, Churchill, JFK.)

6:00pm to 8:00pm, One on One's

8:00pm to 9:00pm, Presentations, (Every night one or two English speakers presented on an interesting aspect of his or her life. One friend, Hilton, presented on the nonprofit he started with fellow Zimbabweans in London called We Zimbabwe. Another young woman, Laura, presented on her research in the Arctic as an undergraduate in college.)

9:00pm to 10:30pm, Plated dinner at tables of 4

10:30pm to 3:00am or 4:00am, YES, 3:00am or 4:00am, Social activities, including dancing, drinking Spanish cultural beverages, dancing, talking, dancing, singing, and oh, yeah, DANCING. It was during this period of the day when I learned the saying "From the lost to the river." There were nights when I was tired and feeling my introverted tendencies getting the best of me. Yet, undoubtedly, one of our Spaniard friends would grab my hand, pull me onto the dance floor, and I would make up my mind to go for it. And I am so glad I did. The Spanish know how to have a good time--and make sure everyone else has a good time--like no other people I know.

Each day was full of fun and interesting conversation, yet the week was not without some problems. Casey was sick the first 3 or 4 days we were with the program. However, the program directors took very good care of him, connecting him with a doctor and some meds that got him better in no time.

Now, we are back in Madrid with our friend Ennis, the Aussi that was so kind to me during my breakdown on the sea kayak in Turkey. More about our adventures in Madrid soon!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1225215480/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1225215480/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1225215480/tpod.html Tue, 28 Oct 2008 09:24:14 -0400 Where's "Coblentz" Besides Germany?: Two Months, a Backpack, and a Poor Sense of Direction.

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La Alberca, Spain

"From lost to the river" is the English translation of a popular Spanish saying. If there was an English equivalent, it would be the exclamation, "I'll sleep when I am dead!"

During our recent linguistic and cultural adventure in La Alberca, an old village in Western Spain, Casey and I learned a lot about the Spanish language, and concomitantly, a great deal about the Spanish lifestyle. We arrived at La Alberca with an English immersion program called "Pueblo Ingles." The program brings together 25 native English speakers and 25 Spaniards with intermediate and advanced English skills for a week of conversation and fun. They put the English speakers up for free in a fabulous hotel in exchange for our jabber. Based on the more that 15 hours a day Casey and I spent chatting, eating, debating, and dancing with our new Spanish friends, "from lost to the river" is not only a Spanish saying, it is also a way of life here in Spain.

A typical day looked like this:
8:00am to 8:45, Yoga and/or get ready for the day (one of the English volunteers is a certified yoga instructor)

9:00am to 10:00, Breakfast buffet and dining at tables of 4 (2 English speakers and 2 Spaniards at each table)

11:00am to 1:00pm, One on Ones in 50 minutes sessions (for every 50 minute slot I was paired up with a different Spaniard. We could discuss everything and anything so long as we are mindful of controversial subjects like American politics and the Spanish civil war. Among the many topics that came up in my conversations were online dating, 9/11, the cost of private education, the Iron Man triathlon, and, of course, Spanish cuisine)

1:00pm to 2:00pm, Two on Two (two English speakers and two Spaniards are paired up with a list of questions they can randomly choose from to jump start the conversation. Among the topics I discussed were women in the workplace, childhood pranks, and the question: "What would you do with 5 million Euros?" Mom and Dad, you will be happy to hear I allocated at least 1 million of those Euros to you, which won me some major points with the moms in my group)

2:00pm to 3:00pm, Plated lunch at tables of 4

3:00pm to 5:00pm, Siesta (while this is typically a time for napping or resting, Casey and I often used it to venture to the nearby village, La Alberca, just a short walk from the isolated hotel. La Alberca is a world heritage sight and it looks the same as it did 800 years ago. The town's citizens have maintained the old village tradition of caring for a community pig. It lives in the town square where it is fed by benevolent villagers throughout the day, then sleeps in one of their homes each night. It is big and black and very friendly.)

5:00pm to 6:00pm, Group activity (in random group of 6 or 7, we are presented with a challenge that we must discuss and present to the larger group at the end of the hour. These were very challenging, but fun, as they often required the English speakers and Spaniards to collaborate quickly in a creative way. On day, we picked the "Leader of the World" based on a 4 ambiguous profiles. Once everyone presented on their selection, the program leader announced that the profiles were based on real people: Hitler, Mother Theresa, Churchill, JFK.)

6:00pm to 8:00pm, One on One's

8:00pm to 9:00pm, Presentations, (Every night one or two English speakers presented on an interesting aspect of his or her life. One friend, Hilton, presented on the nonprofit he started with fellow Zimbabweans in London called We Zimbabwe. Another young woman, Laura, presented on her research in the Arctic as an undergraduate in college.)

9:00pm to 10:30pm, Plated dinner at tables of 4

10:30pm to 3:00am or 4:00am, YES, 3:00am or 4:00am, Social activities, including dancing, drinking Spanish cultural beverages, dancing, talking, dancing, singing, and oh, yeah, DANCING. It was during this period of the day when I learned the saying "From the lost to the river." There were nights when I was tired and feeling my introverted tendencies getting the best of me. Yet, undoubtedly, one of our Spaniard friends would grab my hand, pull me onto the dance floor, and I would make up my mind to go for it. And I am so glad I did. The Spanish know how to have a good time--and make sure everyone else has a good time--like no other people I know.

Each day was full of fun and interesting conversation, yet the week was not without some problems. Casey was sick the first 3 or 4 days we were with the program. However, the program directors took very good care of him, connecting him with a doctor and some meds that got him better in no time.

Now, we are back in Madrid with our friend Ennis, the Aussi that was so kind to me during my breakdown on the sea kayak in Turkey. More about our adventures in Madrid soon!
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1224121860/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1224121860/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1224121860/tpod.html Wed, 15 Oct 2008 15:22:24 -0400 Where's "Coblentz" Besides Germany?: Two Months, a Backpack, and a Poor Sense of Direction.

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Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain

I was walking through the Parc Guell when I came upon a grove of pine trees beside the path. There was a flock of busy pigeons feeding beneath it--a scene typical of any city landscape, really. Then I noticed something peculiar about the group. For every 10 grey pigeons, there was a bright green parrot diving in for bird seed alongside them. I laughed with delight at the sheer weirdness of the scene. As I continued to watch the group, though, it dawned on me that this was a perfectly fitting occurrence for Barcelona, the city where I have spent the last week.

Like any modern Western metropolis, Barça has busy streets, hurried crowds, fashionable ships and delicious restaurants. Yet the city also has delightful eccentricities that make it one of the most beautiful and fun I have visited. Modernist architects, like the city´s famous Antonio Gaudi, gave Barça its funky character. From time to time when I stroll down the street, I look up to find a building that seems more fitting for a childhood cartoon, or a theme park, than for one of Europe´s major cities. Nestled between ¨normal¨ looking city streets, I cannot help but find these wonders amusing. Barcelona has a sense of humor, I think. Even the sidewalk tiles that line the asphalt streets bear the artistic touch of the city´s imaginative designers. There are parrots among the pigeons everywhere in the city.

Suzy, one of Casey´s friends from college, came up from Sevilla to explore Barcelona for most of our week here. Our trio quickly got into a daily routine that I was so fond of I have even said I wouldn´t mind living here permanently! Every morning we head to our favorite coffee shop, La Danesa (a block from the diagonal metro stop) for great cafe con leche and a fresh baked pastry. The warm drinks are dirt cheap and the pastries are a good deal and right out of the oven. After a little reading, talking, and strategizing for the day, we set off for an adventure. One day we rented bicycles and rode through the city. Our other excursions have included Sangrada Familia, the Palau Musica, the beach and harbor front, Las Ramblas, and various busy Plaças around town. Almost every day we make a stop at La Boqueria, a giant open air market off of the busy Las Ramblas, where we pick up things for lunch. Cartons of fresh raspberries are 1 euro, as are the 8 oz containers of fresh squeezed fruit juice (we like strawberry banana, kiwi, raspberry, or raspberry pineapple). We also load up on freshly sliced cheese, bread, chocolate and nuts before heading out for our regular picnic lunch. Since we eat lunch no earlier than 2pm (this is Spain!), it is 6pm by the time we are done with lunch and our brief afternoon siesta, which is usually comprised of another coffee shop visit. By the time we head back to our hostel, change for the evening, and head out for dinner it is 8 or 9pm. After dinner, sangria, and some of Barça´s beloved helado (ice-cream), we are back to the hostel and in bed EARLY. By early, I mean 2am. There have been nights when the other youngsters in the hostel are still ¨pre-partying¨(that is, drinking at home before going out to the clubs) at 1 or 2 when we get back for the night.

It is a totally different way of life here, but its fun, and funny. It is great to be in a city that makes me laugh with delight.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1223236800/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1223236800/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1223236800/tpod.html Sun, 05 Oct 2008 09:49:10 -0400 Where's "Coblentz" Besides Germany?: Two Months, a Backpack, and a Poor Sense of Direction.

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Istanbul, Turkey

Casey and I are back in Istanbul after our tour through Central and Southern Turkey. Since this is our second time in the city and it has become much more familiar to us, I have had a chance to really reflect on the culture here. Here are a few thoughts on two subjects I love--food and fashion--in Turkey.

"Yes, please!" is the English phrase Americans are greeted with when passing merchants throughout Turkey. We haven't figured out whether this is a direct translation from a corresponding typical Turkish greeting, or whether this phrase is also used for people of other nationalities: i.e., "Si, por favor," or "Oui, s'il vous plait!" Whatever the case, it is the widespread version of 'hello-buy-from-me,' and really, it's a pretty nice way to be greeted.

I think it was our Pacific Northwest travel buddy, Rick Steves, who told me that my vegetarian ways would be no sweat in Istanbul. Rick must not be a vegetarian. Rick lied. It has taken me almost a month to figure out easy ways to be a vegetarian in Turkey. I usually expect my dietary restrictions to be a hassle abroad, so I guess its understandable. I wouldn't have been so disappointed had Rick not given me such high hopes. Anyways, now that I've got it figured out I have come to really enjoy Turkish food.

Pide is a dream come true. It is one common version of Turkish pizza, and it differs from American pizza in a couple ways. First, it has no tomato sauce. Instead, the cheese, or occasionally a thin layer of oil, is the dish's intermediary between crust and topping. I'm not a big fan of really saucy pizza, so I prefer this. Second, the thin crust is shaped like a smile. The crust to topping ratio is also good (more crust, less topping). One can get all sorts of Pide, and Casey is particularly fond of the fired egg topping option.

Before I discovered the various veggie stew and curry options here, I basically lived off a dish called gozleme. It is Turkey's version of the quesadilla or the crepe. The large, square flour tortilla-like sheets are most commonly filled with Turkish feta (less salty than what we eat in the States). Some also include potato, spinach, parsley, tomato, lettuce, and meat. The various combinations of fillings can take it from a quick snack to a hearty meal.

In my food entry from Paris, I wrote about my French fry discovery: they are actually French! Well, Turkey has facilitated additional reflection on these greasy potato sticks. They are everywhere throughout the country. When I told one vendor I didn't eat meat, he offered me a French fry and mayo sandwich (yum, right?). So, I'm baffled: not only are French fries actually French, more and more they appear to be an international cuisine! I've been so out of the loop.

Casey and I spent the other day in Taksim, a trendy shopping district in the city. He was on the hunt for pants (he left a pair on a clothesline somewhere in Southern Turkey) and I decided that I really missed denim, so I was looking for a cheap pair of jeans. Along the way, we made some observations about Turkish fashion. First, the men of Istanbul dress much more fashionably than the average Seattlite. We went through a few different department stores and found that the men's dressing rooms were nicer and more numerous than the women's--can you imagine this in the States? I can't. The fashion market is equally--if not more--targeted toward males here. Second, we found a huge disparity between American denim brands and other nice Turkish brands. We couldn't find a pair of Levis under $100. They seem to really treasure our American jeans, so I left grateful that I usually get them at home without the huge mark ups.

Casey found stylin' brown pants and a blue shirt. I purchased some sweet Turkish jeans. Then...we went to Starbucks. I like Turkish beverages, but I still haven't found anything that matches the American latte.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1223019300/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1223019300/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1223019300/tpod.html Fri, 03 Oct 2008 04:04:11 -0400 Where's "Coblentz" Besides Germany?: Two Months, a Backpack, and a Poor Sense of Direction.

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Fethiye, Turkish Aegean Coast, Turkey

"It's like we're celebrities, and God is taking our picture."

With that, Casey rolled over and continued to snore. I lay there, discontent and wide awake beneath the flashbulbs of the night sky. It was our second night on the sailboat cruiser off the Southern coast of Turkey, and a storm was a-brewin'. The trip had been quite pleasant until now: we spent the previous night ooing and awwing as we admired the clearest starry night I had ever seen. Tonight, however, I awoke from my brief slumber on the top deck to the violent back-and-forth of the vessel and the shouts of the waves: "This way, Ms. Coblentz!" they called from their respective places along our nautical red carpet, "Look here! Smile!"

Our captain anchored in a cove surrounded by rocky cliffs, and beyond them I could see the center of the lightening storm. I couldn't hear any thunder though. "That's a good sign," I silently placated. Then a giant, warm raindrop fell into my ear. With the next flash of light I could see the other passengers who had brought pillows and blankets on deck. The Brits were folding up their wool blankets and the Aussie was heading down under. There were only four of us left--all of us Americans. We are a stubborn breed.

"Casey!" I whispered again, now sitting up to assert the seriousness of my concern. "Casey, it's going to rain. Shouldn't we go to the cabin? I felt a drop!"

"You're such a worrier," he sighed, rolling over again.

Maybe he was right. I lay down again. I had just finished The Life of Pi, the story of a boy stranded at sea after a storm sinks his ship. There were a bunch of zoo animals on board so he ended up sharing a lifeboat with a tiger for 227 days. I was probably over-reacting about the storm. It wasn't really raining that hard, and there was no room for tigers on a boat this size.

"This reminds me of that story--" I whispered to Casey (we weren't moving he would have to keep me company, at least). "You know, the one where the disciples are on a boat, and there's a big storm. They are scared and want Jesus to calm it, but he is sleeping."

A few moments passed, then Casey rolled over in my direction, releasing a pensive sigh. "Well, I'm the one sleeping, and you have been squeezing my arm with every lightening bolt since it started, so if this is the storm then I am clearly the Christ figure."

Another flash lit the sky, illuminating Casey's wide smile and poking chuckle. I picked up my pillow, a white flag of surrender, and rolled my eyes at Casey. I finally headed down to my cabin, off to wake the Master.

Not 5 minutes passed before Casey followed me to the cabin. The storm had finally moved over the cliffs and settled smack dab above our ship. With it came hours of powerful rain. With the rain came the discovery that our cabin was full of leaks. With all the excitement, we didn't sleep a bit and found ourselves so overwhelmed all that we could do was laugh.
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Olympos, Antalya, Turkey

After arriving to Olympos in the middle of a torrential down pour, unloading our stuff into our tree house (yes, tree house), and chatting with a couple who live near Santa Clara University, my alma mater, we decided to indulge the area's outdoorsy scene with a little afternoon sea kayaking. Wei had run into a pair of Aussie's he'd met in Istanbul, and they had suggested the excursion.

In retrospect, Casey claims he had his hesitations about the adventure. While the down pour had stopped, a light rain continued and the weather didn't look like it was going to improve anytime soon. Sure, there were white caps jutting out across the water as far as the eye could see, but the water was radiating warmth as it poured over the sides of the boat. It was like really aggressive bath water--and how much harm could bath water do?

About 10 minutes into our trip, Ennis, the Aussie in the back seat of my two-person kayak, asked, "Do you feel a little dizzy?" He explained that the jarring up and down of the boat had made him a little light-headed a few strokes back. It seemed to have passed, and I felt just fine, so we rowed on.

Not ten minutes later, I started to feel it. I had never been even remotely seasick, but I was beginning to think that the world spinning around me was not actually a typical component of the up-and-down-of-the-kayak sensation. "Don't throw-up" I began to chant inside my head. "Hold it together, Jessica. Don't throw-up." Ennis must have started to suspect something when I stopped talking--and rowing.

"You alright, Jess?" he asked.

"Uh, I think I am getting that dizzy feeling you were talking about...ha...ha..."

By God's grace I was able to row the rest of the way to the cove with only a couple more "breaks." I figured that our time on the beach would allow me to regain my composure (that is, my head and my stomach) before our trip back to our starting point. Not so. Increasing rain forced us to get back in our boats and return to the main beach. This time I was in the front of a doubles kayak with Wei, the travel buddy we had picked up three days prior in Istanbul. Within the first five minutes of our return trip on the water--just long enough for the other boats to drift off in front of us--I felt even more sick than before. "We have so far to go!" I whimpered inside. "Don't throw up! You have to travel with this guy for two more weeks and he barely knows you! This could ruin you!" I started crying. It was all I could do to keep from not getting sick. Helpless, embarrassed, wanting to be anywhere but in this tiny red kayak on the angry, salty Mediterranean Sea, I sat there is my kayak with Wei rowed and sent forth kind words of encouragement.

Out of this miserable experience, I gained immense gratitude for the fellow travelers Casey and I have encountered in our trip so far. Ennis and Wei went out of their way to comfort me--a little American stranger--when I couldn't hold it together in the kayak any longer, and their kindness never ceased in the rest of the time we spent together in Olympos, along with Ennis' friend Matt.

Our fellow travelers have been a big part of the trip that I did not anticipate. While most have been pleasant, fun, and simply a joy to spend time with, they have also led me to think a lot about the way I live my life. When graduating from college, I felt the excitement and anxiety of life's openness--I could go anywhere and do anything! Traveling during this time, however, has only magnified this sensation. Not only do I know that life's options are numerous, I am continuously encountering good people who are actually living their lives in very different ways than I do. Many travelers start moving without an end date for their trips. They travel until the money runs out, work wherever they are in the world, then more on to the next spot that fancies them. I could never imagine living like this! I am such a planner! Yet, it has been inspiring and challenging to meet people who can find peace in this life style. It forces me to consider why I don't think I could easily find peace in it.
The best part of traveling may not be the destination, but rather the people I meet while I'm getting there.
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Cappadocia, Turkey

Our first day in Cappadocia was a "free day"--free of a guided tour, that is, and free to roam about the region's many valleys of incredible white stone "fairy chimneys." Casey and I dropped our bags at the cave hotel (yes, cave hotel) and headed out for an adventure with Wei, a fellow American traveler we met in Istanbul.

The narrow cliffs and stone pillars of the region are breath-taking from afar. One could spend hours perched atop one of the many view points in the area, mezmarized by the geological wonder of the place. We had other plans in mind for the day, however. Equiped with Chacos and head lamps, we set out to explore the caves that Turks have been carving out in the high rock pillars for thousands of years. It seems that the sheer number of these rock valleys and caves are such that what is geological and archeological wonder to us Americans is commonplace for the citizens of Cappadocia. There are no "DO NOT ENTER" signs or fences protecting the astonishing homes, stables, and churches hidden in the rocks and cliffs.

Along the way, the happened upon what looked to be ancient Christian cave painting. I was in total disbelief--it was too good to be true! Authentic iconography from the 4th century? Crosses and religious symbols from the Iconoclastic period, when Christians were forbidden to use human image in their religious art? Thanks to these incredible historical paintings, those musty caves became this Religous Studies major's dream come true. I put my art history and ancient language studies to the test, decoding the saints depicted in the cave images and reading the dead language scribble that framed them.

We had been hiking, climbing, and admiring for a few hours when we ran ino a friendly couple from Los Angeles. My gregarious travel companions had chatted with them about the giant painting of the Virgin Mary on the wall behind us when it dawned on me: I know these people.

"Uh...I know this sounds weird, but is your name 'Suzy'?" Sure enough, it was Suzy. She grew up in Costa Rica with a family I am close to back home in Redmond. I had seen photos of her for years, and met her at a wedding two years ago. And there we were--randomly crossing paths on the other side of the globe, in the middle of turkey, amid thousands of caves and rocky pillars. We spend the rest of the evening with Suzy and her husband, Andrew, wandering through ancient monastic cave passages and devouring delicious Turkish food.

One lesson I'm learning time and time again on these travels: Its a very small world.
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Cappadocia, Turkey

A few thýngs Turkýsh people have shouted at my travel buddy, Casey, and I durýng our týme ýn Turkey:

To Casey...
"Good water. Good woman. You are happy man!"
"Your last name ýs Wong? I thought you were a Turk--a Turkýsh nomad!"

Saýd by carpet salesmen dýrectly followýng the news we are from Seattle...
"You are from Seattle! I was ýn Redmond last month." (Redmond ýs our hometown--ýts a suburb of Seattle that no would would go to unless they were on busýness or knew someone.)
"You are from Seattle! There ýs thýs great Mexýcan resturant there--Cactus!" (Caseys sýster worked at thýs small Mexýcan resturant ýn Seattle for the past two years...very random)

Turks are super frýendly people, and theýr outgoýng nature and hospýtalýty are a large part of why I have loved my týme here, and why Casey and I have decýded to spend a whole month of our 2 1/2 month trýp ýn thýs country. Whether ýts random salesmen along the street or a frýendly fellow customer at the bar, the people of Turkey have gýven me a lesson ýn hospýtalýty that I wýll not forget. When Casey dropped a matchbook ýn the busy Grand Bazaar, someone chased us down to return ýt. When we told one restuant owner that we were not goýng to eat at hýs place because we had our hearts set on a roof top terrace cafe, he walked us down the street to hýs frýends place where we enjoyed a fabulous meal. For as much as these pleasent ýnteractýons mýght occasýonally be a part of an underlyýng busýness agenda, the go-the-extra-mýle mentalýty of people has left a great ýmpressýon on us.

One of the hospýtalýty hýghlýghts of our týme so far has been hangýng out wýth one of Caseys college professors. Born and raýsed ýn Istanbul, Ozan now works ýn Washýngton and spends hýs summer back home ýn Turkey. After meetýng us at our hostel, he took us over to Taksým, a hýp urban center ýn Istanbul, where he took us to a fabulous well-known resturant and trendy bar so we could get a feel for how the average young adult Istanbul-ýte spends hýs/her týme. Whýle sýppýng the natýonal drýnk of choýce, Roký, we dýned on delýcýous mezes and local fýsh whýle one of the cýtys notorýous stray cats jealously pawed at our ankles. We fýnýshed nýght at a popular Turkýsh dessert chaýn where we ate yummy thýngs that I couldnt have ýmagýned. The next afternoon, Ozan, hýs sýster, and two of her frýends accompanýed us to an early dýnner as well as a meetýng wýth a travel agent who would help us plan out the rest of our týme ýn Turkey.

It was a treat to encounter Istanbul through the eyes of young natýves, and ý was overwhelmed wýth gratýtude for the generousýty that Ozan showed us. I would have never expected ýt--but at the same týme, I have the ýmpressýon that many people ýn Turkey are lýke Ozan ýn that they go above and beyond to make us feel welcome ýn theýr country. It has generated a lot of self-reflectýon about how I can spread hospýtalýty to others ýn my own lýfe.

Thanks to Ozans help, Casey and I have set out for a two week tour of central and southwestern Turkey. Cappadocia ýs amazýng--and worthy of ýts own forthcomýng blog entry. We also pýcked up another travel ýn Istanbul who wýll accompany us for the next two weeks. Weý ýs a 26 year old from Kansas Cýty who quýt hýs engýneerýng job ýn Parýs ýn Aprýl to begýn a no-planned-end-date tour of the globe. He ýs a great addýtýon to our duo.

(One last note: Please forgýve my spellýng. I am one of those kýds who mysterýously got all the way through school wýthout learnýng to spell correctly. Thýs computer has a very slow spell check so I cannot rely on ýt to cover up my weakness. I hope ýts not too annoyýng...)
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1221328860/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1221328860/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1221328860/tpod.html Sat, 13 Sep 2008 14:56:49 -0400 Where's "Coblentz" Besides Germany?: Two Months, a Backpack, and a Poor Sense of Direction.

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Istanbul, Turkey

As the Arabic chant rang out from speaks atop the lofty pillars behind us, we stopped in our tracks. Casey and I, in the middle of the Hippodrome between the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque, watched the thousands of Muslims break the Ramadan fast as the sun sank behind the horizon. It is a difficult moment to describe--witnessing this significant ritual on such a massive scale. The magnitude of the ritual moment demanded reverence, even for someone of another faith tradition. We sat down on a park bench and watched the crowds eat while waiters ran frantically between tables with steaming trays of meat and soup.

It is September 11th, I told Casey as we sat there.

Seven years after Islam jarringly entered my young and naive world view, I entered the Muslim world by landing in Istanbul, Turkey. Since September 11, 2001 I have been fortunate to gain a richer perspective of this vast global tradition through many Muslim friends, visits to a variety of mosques and prayer services, and courses in religious studies. Subsequently, I feel very comfortable in Muslim settings and I didn't dwell much on the significance of coming to a predominately Muslim nation near the Middle East as an American, even when I booked a flight with a September 11th departure. Since leaving Paris, however, there have been a number of moments, like our first evening during the breaking of the Ramadan fast, when I sensed something profound about our visit to this country.

Within the first hour at our hostel, we met Ahmed, a traveler from Cairo currently living in Saudi Arabia. Outgoing and friendly, he invited Casey and I to grab some chai--or, Turkish tea--with him later that evening after his nightly prayers at the mosque down the street. Naturally, Casey and I took him up on the offer. We ended up spending our first night in Istanbul--September 11th--talking for hours about religion with Ahmed. At 23, Ahmed is wise beyond his years and devout in his faith. We discussed everything from the roles of reason and emotion in religious conversion, to the person of Jesus in both traditions. We talked about what Muslims believe and what Christians believe, and we talked about humanity's search for meaning in life and religion--whatever the circumstances or traditions. At one point in the conversation, I told Ahmed and Casey, with a huge smile, `This is why I study religion, guys. We are sitting here talking about our search for the most important things in our lives. We may disagree about some aspects of religion at the end of the day, but it is beautiful that the subject allows us to share some of the most significant parts of our lives.` As we parted ways that night, I felt an immense sense of gratitude for the conversation, and for the Muslim festival we sat amidst. I couldn't help but think of all the negative and unfair things I have heard about Islam in the past seven years, and how much I wish more Americans could share in the genuine, heartfelt inter-national and inter-religious conversation I had just happened upon.

Still on the flight to Istanbul, I examined a map of our newest destination. I told Casey: `You do realize that we are in a country that boarders Georgia, Iraq, and Iran, right?` `Yeah,` he told me. One of Casey's house mates, Tim, is a soldier in Iraq right now. `I told Tim we are going to be neighbors again.` In many ways I don't feel any closer to Iraq here in Istanbul--I still feel safe and comfortable, and the war and my American accent have not been brought up by those we have encountered thus far. But it feels important that I am here, closer in some ways. It feels significant that I wake up to the same beautiful, Arabic chant that many of Iraq's citizens hear everyday during prayer. That the buildings and the clothes look a bit more like Iraq's than the ones I see at home.

Casey and I will be in Istanbul the rest of the week, then we're off to explore the rest of the country until the beginning of October. As our travels here continue, perhaps the significance of this place, at this time, will become clearer.
]]> http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1221251580/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1221251580/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/coblentz/1/1221251580/tpod.html Fri, 12 Sep 2008 16:51:17 -0400 Where's "Coblentz" Besides Germany?: Two Months, a Backpack, and a Poor Sense of Direction.

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Istanbul, Turkey

A day and a half in Istanbul and already lots to report...but you'll have to wait for the full write-up. In the meantime, here are some pictures from the trip so far:

Airplane:
http://photos-a.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-snc1/v317/111/56/25900242/n25900242_34150816_3599.jpg

Louvre:
http://photos-a.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-snc1/v317/111/56/25900242/n25900242_34150832_8694.jpg

Cafe behind Sacre Coeur:
http://photos-f.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-snc1/v317/111/56/25900242/n25900242_34150837_263.jpg

View of Sacre Coeur from our favorite neighborhood garden:
http://photos-b.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-snc1/v317/111/56/25900242/n25900242_34150841_1579.jpg

On the Artist's Bridge above the Seine with friends from home:
http://photos-f.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-snc1/v317/111/56/25900242/n25900242_34150845_2877.jpg

Hagia Sophia, right outside our hostel door here in Istanbul:
http://photos-c.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-snc1/v317/111/56/25900242/n25900242_34150858_7282.jpg

Great dinner on a rooftop terrace overlooking the Hagia Sophia (behind) and the Blue Mosque:
http://photos-e.ak.facebook.com/photos-ak-snc1/v317/111/56/25900242/n25900242_34150860_7964.jpg
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