hancocjb's TravelStream™ — Recent TravelPod.com entries TravelStream™ news feed for member hancocjb on TravelPod's free travel blogs service http://www.travelpod.com/syndication/rss/hancocjb en-us Copyright ©2009 TravelPod.com Sun, 02 Nov 2008 17:28:07 -0500 http://www.travelpod.com A Statement of Hope — Gonaives, Haiti http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1225664760/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1225664760/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1225664760/tpod.html Sun, 02 Nov 2008 17:28:07 -0500 Kristina... We're not in Berkeley Anymore!
Gonaives, Haiti

Skepticism, fear, anxiety and distrust have left my conscious, but not to be forgotten as a reminder to myself that I will never cease to be an American, and I'll always be influenced by the cultural norms, and societal influences of my home. As I find in every other country I have been fortunate enough to experience, I am once again more comfortable walking alone in Gonaives Haiti than I am in many parts of Oakland California.

Something is happening here. It's the same things I experienced during the months I spent in southern Bangladesh with HODR. Walking to job sites with muddy boots and unwashed clothes, the resident Haitians used to remain cautiously behind their metal gates, yelling "blan bame un dollar" and making hand gestures to indicate that they have been given nothing by the white people.

Only three weeks after opening our doors, as I walk down the same streets with our teams of 10-15 Haitian and foreign volunteers causing children and adults come pouring out of their homes to greet us yelling "John John, I am happy to see you today." Now they are eager only for handshakes, high fives and hugs.

Slowly our reputation builds, grows and is disseminated by word of mouth throughout Gonaives. Last week, I was again interrupted by a quote I have heard a number of times; each time it brings tears to my eyes. Amidst mountains of mud, we pass full buckets to the end of the line, dump, then back down the line to the bedrooms where we fill them again. Sweat pours off his face and mine, and he takes one moment between buckets to look me in the eye and smile, softly states "John, thank you, many hands make the work light."

As foreigners, we can choose to do this work, or we can choose to do nothing. For Haitians in Gonaives, they have no choice. Its a matter of whether the work is heavy, or light.

Members of the community on our street pulled me aside after we participated in basic well improvements to the community pump. They took the time to sit me down and to tell me that they felt our presence here is helping neighbors learn how to live together as a community rather than isolated households.

That's what its all about.

Many other NGOs thought, and still think there is no way we can pull of this kind of volunteer response. We've upped the ante by not only getting off to an incredible start, we are engaged in a wildly successful effort to mobilize local volunteers. The beauty of this so simple. People who live in Gonaives, profoundly affected by this disaster and the general condition in Gonavies give their hands, their sweat and their time to work in the same bucket brigades, pushing the same wheelbarrows and shoveling the same mud as we do.

I am hard pressed to find a bolder statement of optimism in the world than that exhibited by our work in Gonaives.

A 19 yr old Haitian young man who lost his mother and father in the flood shovels mud from a strangers home into a bucket. That bucket is picked up by a 24 year old Canadian, passed to a 30 year old local Haitian schoolteacher who has three children forced to flee Gonaives. Passed on to a 46 year old American who himself lost all his belongings in hurricane Wilma in 2005. Further down the line. Passed on to a 24 year old Haitian law student not in school now because of damage to school property caused by the hurricanes. Finally, dumped in the street by a 71 year old American renowned among the Haitian volunteers as "an old man, but a strong man."

Solidarity, empathy and compassion come in many forms. I've never been more moved in my life than by this simple and basic expression of hope.
]]> 2 Minutes of Fame on NBC national news! — Gonaives, Haiti http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1223606280/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1223606280/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1223606280/tpod.html Thu, 09 Oct 2008 22:39:20 -0400 Kristina... We're not in Berkeley Anymore!
Gonaives, Haiti

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/3032619/#27022130
]]> HODR does Gonaives — Gonaives, Haiti http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1222642800/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1222642800/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1222642800/tpod.html Sun, 28 Sep 2008 19:24:46 -0400 Kristina... We're not in Berkeley Anymore!
Gonaives, Haiti

The strange oasis of MINUSTAHs peace keeping mission campus in Gonaives is slowly becoming less and less appealing. To me that is a good sign that I am beginning to feel comfortable on the streets in Gonaives.

A sweltering 20 minute walk through the baking mid day sun to meet Stef was pleasant despite the combination of putrid smells, stagnant month old hurricane water, and somehow a Pisco like dust bowl feel. The feeling of life on the streets really is alive, and despite the reality of the situation that Haitians find themselves in here, a nod and simple bonjour/bonsoir is generally reciprocated with a smile and similar greeting. Of course, people feel the need to point out every 5 seconds or so that I am indeed a white person by yelling "BLAN, BLAN" Sometimes I return the greeting by hollering "Hatien, Hatien!" Usually that is received in good humor

A successfully exploration of the local transportation and street side restaurants in Gonaives leaves me confident that we will have very little trouble moving ourselves and HODR volunteers around the city. A plate of lalo (spinach) rice and beans does a body good!

Occasionally the hood of your tap tap(beat up old toyata truck) will disappear below muddy water, bouncing in and out of invisible foot deep potholes, guaranteed to soak your shoes in icky water. Such is the nature of disaster relief work.

Our house, location, and neighborhood continues to excite me. A lot of work lies ahead to get the place fit for a base, but i can start to hear the noises, and smell the smells of a populated volunteer base as I walk through the empty rooms. October 10 will be an exciting day for HODR!

I know I'll be seeing some of you soon
]]> HODR Haiti. This is a new challenge — Port-au-Prince, Haiti http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1222001040/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1222001040/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1222001040/tpod.html Sun, 21 Sep 2008 09:17:22 -0400 Kristina... We're not in Berkeley Anymore!
Port-au-Prince, Haiti

Blue helmets provided the backdrop for the light tank, an Argentine soldier manned the M-16, finger on the trigger. Tank, food truck, food truck, food truck, Tank. One million dollars worth of UN food aid rolled through the systemically poor town of Cabaret.

We were only 20 miles north of Port-au-Prince and still somehow there is a lack of food in a church turned relief shelter. Marc and I stood amongst the pews crowded by a group of 20 children and a few very vocal women. Food was only available at the "relief" shelter once a day, a simple plate of rice and beans. The shelter lacked any semblance of basic sanitation and the residents left at this humble shelter are slowly being forced out on to the streets. Church must continue. Those sheltered in a school are experiencing the same thing, school has already been delayed until October 6, but those in the business of providing some sort of education to students are reclaiming their buildings. Generosity and good will do dry up at some point. But not the homes, they were inundated with water as recently as Tuesday.

Public schools? There are almost none.

The regular economy is essentially defunct. How can a 1.5 liter bottle of water in the poorest country in the western hemisphere be 4 dollars? Or how can a simple plate of rice and beans on the street be 2 dollars? Haiti's inequality index ranks in the top five in the world, this is truly a land of the haves and the have nots. Over 90 percent of Haitians are forced to operate in a black market economy and as a foreigner I am finding it harder to operate in the street economy. It is usually very easy to tap into that. The country's street market economy is essentially subsisting with the support of a network of foreign influences. Large professional NGOs, a UN peacekeeping mission, and large economic incentives from donors like the EU may be keeping the country from plummeting into complete anarchy, but those forces also help to maintain the current status quo to some degree.

I arrived in Haiti apprehensive because of the well known security concerns, lack of infrastructure or fully functioning government. I have found some of those concerns to be silly but, I also find that many of these concerns are real. I have felt safe at all times, but I am also aware that I am staying in a well established, hotel, I travel in an elevated SUV with a Haitian driver, I eat at a well stocked buffet.

That will all change. I cant wait.

In the "relief shelter tension mounted as the residents did not understand what we were doing there. With our white skin, we should be arriving with food. Why were we asking so many questions? They are hungry, why were we asking about their plans for going home? Why did we want to know about how many trees were destroyed? Why did we want to know about the damaged school? We were admonished by an elderly man for not bringing food.

One woman, despite her child's hunger seemed to understand that we could help, just not with food. She escorted us to her small community 1km from Cabaret. Most people are afraid to be in their homes after dark, and a single drop of rain makes the situation worse. In Cabaret, the water came through at 2am, taking people away in their sleep.

Rumor has it that a very small bridge is responsible for the severity of the disaster in Cabaret.

This experience continues to be very new for me. I have not spent any time in the Caribbean since 2006, and never in a country that lacks so many of the things that even developing nations have.

HODR presses on, things are looking up for a potential successful deployment in the poorest country in the western hemisphere.
]]> WWE Smackdown...Na Ill Gut and Muck a house — Cedar Rapids, Iowa, United States http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1221436560/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1221436560/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1221436560/tpod.html Wed, 17 Sep 2008 20:00:25 -0400 Kristina... We're not in Berkeley Anymore!
Cedar Rapids, Iowa, United States

Picture pretty much says it all.

Ill say that going to the monday night WWE wrestling match complete with VIP box seats complementary of US cellular was the cultural highlight of the past three weeks. It was a more culturally eye opening experience than I ever would have thought.

Indeed, Iowa is full of corn
]]> In Memory of Scott Stapleton — San Francisco, California, United States http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1218072120/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1218072120/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1218072120/tpod.html Wed, 06 Aug 2008 21:23:26 -0400 Kristina... We're not in Berkeley Anymore!
San Francisco, California, United States

A week and a half ago Scott took us out at midnight for the opening day of the movie he anticipated for the last six months. Scott grabbed me by the shoulders, looked me in the eye and said, "John, you have no idea how lucky you are." Other Batman fanatics, clad in full costume dueled in the theater hallway and I felt as out of place as he felt completely in his element. I asked Scott why he didn't have his batsuit on. Maybe he knew he was just a cut above that kind of public display, but we all know that when we weren't watching, he put on that batsuit.

By the time we were 16, Scott was already making the first notches on his belt in his triathlon career. Competing at such a high level at such a young age made triathlon more than just a race and a hobby. Triathlon was a sport and a lifestyle choice for Scott, and it was a medium through which we grew from boys to young men together. No matter how much we told him otherwise, he was naturally gifted, especially on the bike. He was strong and consistent on the long flat sections, he knew exactly when to attack on the climbs, and he was fearless through the descents. I still don't understand where he found the courage to tuck into his aero position and disappear in front of me down Claremont avenue.

This is the ambition with which Scott lived his life.

Something that will always amaze me about Scott was his unfair ability to go from completely out of shape to competition ready in a week. Those of us who had the pleasure of training with Scott have all experienced the diverse set of highs and lows; inevitable when you take anything as seriously as we did triathlon. I can proudly say that one of the best moments in my triathlon career came at a race in Pleasanton in 2001. Scott believed that it was his day to win. He told himself that, and proceeded to execute that plan to perfection. Shortly after the beginning of the bike leg, Scott dropped the rest of us, and never looked back.

Scott challenged me on the bike and in the pool, but more importantly, we challenged each other to seek out our own lifestyle that made us feel most alive. We shared the need to explore cultural extremes and find extraordinary adventures. Scott had to experience those things first hand. It was never enough for him to read or study something he felt truly excited about. Scott needed to live it. In this trip with Russell, Scott was really living his life.

I always came to Scott first with wild stories of my own life. In fact, many of those stories involved both of us. I know that with Scott, my stories always fell on open ears. He sat and listened patiently, then hit me back with a crazy story of his own.

Last summer Scott and I often worked off the frustrations of LSAT preparations by training together. Scott was preparing for a 126 mile cycling race through death valley in California. During a typical training ride through contra costa, I complained about my fear that law school would strip away my ambitions. Scott agreed that this was indeed a difficulty, but in his own variation of the saying, he told me "John, this is life, you've really got to grab the bull by the balls!"

Scott didnt end up applying to law school, and sometimes I wondered about that. In a blog entry Scott wrote on May 5 of this year, he explained to readers that he did not perform well when he set his expectations too low. I often tried to convince Scott that it was ok to apply to law schools outside of the ten best schools, but Scott would not have been happy lowering his expectations to accommodate schools that were not the best. In his academic pursuits nothing satisfied Scott but his absolute best performance, and a thorough exploration of his own limits. Scott's academic limits were about as limitless as they get.

Among my closest friends, I have occasionally felt the need to check in on the possibility of a pending marriage.
Though I often asked because I wanted to know for my own planning purposes, when I asked Scott, I consciously encouraged the idea.

Laura:
From the moment I met you in Bangalore, I wanted to know more about you. The reasons why [Scotts friends] we love you will not fit on this page.

In your own right you are an incredibly intelligent, graceful, sensitive, warm and beautiful person. You are someone whom others naturally gravitate toward. Scott is blessed to have had you in his life, he found something we all strive for (in this life), a true, honest soulmate.

You also brought out the very best in Scott. You helped me to see him, and you helped me love him. I really do have to thank you for showing me so much about one of my own best friends.

The number of people in this room, and the number of people here who were so close to Scott is a testament to the true depth of his dynamic and inquisitive personality.

Scott, you have touched so many people's lives so profoundly. We will miss you,
]]> Back to Bangalore, again — Bangalore, India http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1160478780/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1160478780/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1160478780/tpod.html Tue, 22 Jul 2008 20:30:34 -0400 Kristina... We're not in Berkeley Anymore!
Bangalore, India

India is a difficult place to figure out. The vastness of the country combined with the thousands of years of cultural history make the nation incredibly diverse. While it may be homogenous in the sense that the great majority of the population is actually Indian, the cultural diversity and language diversity is equal, perhaps greater than the diversity found in the states. The different states in India have completely different customs, festivals, language and foods. It would be like driving from California into Nevada, and all of a sudden Nevadans didn't celebrate Christmas, spoke no English, and ate no pasta, pizza or burgers. This is no exaggeration. For example, Bangalore is in the state of Karnataka. In Karnataka, the people are darker skinned, outside of Bangalore speak almost no English, and to our surprise, they speak no Hindi here either. They speak Kannada. Kannada is so distinctly different from Hindi, that someone from the north who does speak Hindi cannot understand anything that a Karnatakan speaking Kanada will say. The only way to communicate is for them to speak English with one another, or else it's the old 'point and grunt' charade game. It seems like the culturally uniting forces in India are English, Bollywood actors, and a food called Dahl.

Getting to India from Istanbul was a painful experience. Luckily for us, Scott had arranged for a car to pick us up from the airport, without which we would have been so lost in the unbelievably foreign surroundings. Upon exiting the terminal there were a few Indian things that were impossible to not notice. First, there seriously are hordes of Indians to perform any task and every task. With a population of 1.2 billion people, India has a surplus of workers at every level- from working in the hotel lobby, to retrieving luggage carts, to brewing a pot of coffee (sometimes it takes as many as six). In order to perform the small tasks of moving our backpacks from the luggage cart to the car and opening and closing the car doors, 5 Indian men were involved and all expected to be paid a 10 rupee tip. Second, is getting used to seeing all of the women in their ornately colorful saris, especially since, even in India, they look incredibly out of place. Everyone has heard of the poverty and filth of India. Rightly so, most streets are covered in piles of trash, emaciated people and animals litter the roads, and the air and rivers are clogged with exhaust fumes and sewage. Amid this however, are all the women wearing flowing pink, green, orange, rainbow, and any and every color saris. On top of that they are also decorated in gold jewelry displayed from their ear and nose piercings. These beautifully dressed women simply don't look like they belong in the roads of dirt and trash.

We arrived in Bangalore on a Wednesday morning and the plan was to leave with Scott and Laura for Bombay on Friday. Ironically, they both went to college together at Georgetown but didn't meet each other until they found themselves in the same program for new hires of Infosys (an Indian IT company) in Bangalore. So, after a couple days of recuperation for John's digestive system, we flew from Bangalore to the sprawling metropolis of Bombay for the weekend. Bombay is oppressively hot and humid, even into the early fall. The two hour bus ride from the airport to the city center (some 14 kilometers) was hot. The bus was of course packed, and Kristina began feeling a little self conscious of all the men staring at her. We've been stared at a lot on this trip already, but this time it was because her shirt was cut just a little lower than what is normal here. Getting to our hotel once we dropped off the bus in the appropriate neighborhood was of course almost impossible also. If you or your driver does not know exactly where you are going, often you are screwed and left to the whim of any passerby on the street. At that point you are often directed in at least 3 different directions by the various people you ask. People are incredibly willing to come help give you directions, the lure of seeing what 'the white people' are trying to do often attracts a crowd. The problem is that the directions are often of little use. If you are left to your own devices it is often best to bust out the lonely planet like a good tourist, go to the map page of the city and do your best.

There is a lot to see in Bombay and we had two days to see some of it. The major outing of the weekend was to Elephanta Island. This island was a Hindu holy site made of elaborate cave carvings figured to date to around 600 AD. Not much else is known about the island. We were taken there on a boat and dropped off at the island to face the usual crowds tourists herded in one uniform mass like cows. The holy site is on an elevated patch of land in the middle of the island, approached by a long series of steps. These steps are lined on both sides with stalls side to side selling all the usual tourist necessities and all the usual touts shoving something into your face telling you that you want it and that its only going to cost you 200 rupees to get it. Its kind of like bushwhacking. You literally have to use your arms to hack through the touts, often with no end in sight, and just hope that you are going to come out the other side in good shape and in the right place. The caves were actually very impressive. The carvings are some of the most intricate we have seen yet, and they are amazingly well preserved considering that they are twice the age of Yoda. Of course, being in the capitol of Bollywood, we had to see the popular Bollywood movie of the season. Foreign film critics may think that these song and dance, overly dramatic movies are terrible, but they are a religion here in India. The film we saw had 4 of Bollywoods most beloved actors. The film was essentially a rotation of three scenes; crazy colorful song and dance, one of the two women crying, or the actors staring intensely into the landscape. It was fun, although after 3.5 hours of this it had gone a bit overboard. Bombay is also known for its food. Scott and Laura picked out some choice Bombay restaurants where we dined finely on some seafood traditional to the state of Kerala. This was one of the best seafood meals either of us had ever had.

Returning to Bangalore on Monday night, we took until Friday to get a lot of the logistics for the rest of our time in India sorted out. Wednesday was actually a dead day due to the bundh which the workers of the state of Karnataka called for. This is a one-day strike, and this particular strike was about a boundary dispute with another state. I was not able to make the connection with what the bundh was supposed to achieve and why striking was the way to achieve it, but as we have discovered, often logic is not a reasonable way to try to understand a situation. Bundhs often turn violent, and this one was mildly violent as well. We were urged not to step food outside, so we observed that and spent most of the day watching movies. Thursday was business as normal, and although some property was damage from stone throwing, things looked normal the next day.

To plan travel here, you have to think of planning travel fifteen years ago in the states. You just have to know exactly what you need to know, the internet is often not too helpful, or if you don't know the intricate systems of public transportation, lodging, and roads, you must use a travel agent. We spent the better part of two days, and five visits to a travel agents office to get things planned out for our remaining time in India. Oh, even though you might not know how to use the public transportation systems, where to go about bookings and reservations, you have to have reservations on most busses and trains. There are so many people in this country, that the transport is not adequately able to cope with the volume of people. There is no doubt that a lot of frustration results from travel here. Our travel agent was very helpful in sorting everything out for us. The 10% commission charge was well deserved. Our latest trip was to Bandipur national park south of Mysore. This park has India's highest density of leopards, as well as a high density of tigers, elephant, spotted deer and wild boar. All travel involved, our Saturday bus took 9 hours to go the 200 kilometers to the park. This also is typical for India. Busses are often no mach for the bad roads and herds of grazing animals. The two days we stayed at a lodge with a helpful staff of people Kristina deemed to be 'safari masters' They were actually very knowledgeable wildlife rangers who took us for morning and evening 'safaris' through the jungle in the park. We did not see the grand prize of sightings, the tiger, but we did get close ups of wild elephant herds, playful spotted deer clans and the occasional lonely wild Gaur and Boar. Made for some good photo ops. During some down time on Sunday, we were invited to take a jeep ride to the top of the highest peak in Bandipur to see one of Karnataka's most famous Hindu temples. We were ushered into a tiny crammed temple, definitely the only white people for weeks who had come anywhere near. We had absolutely no idea what we were doing as people pushed and shoved closer toward the holy man at the center of the temple. The craziest and most disturbing part of the event was that all parties, holy man and all, were yelling at each other and forcefully shoving each other out of the way. It didn't seem all that holy. We kept our eyes open to observe, but we let folks slowly push us out of the way, rightfully so, as we had no real religious business there.

We are back in Bangalore for our last day. Tonight we take an overnight train to Hampi which is the most popular ancient Hindu temple sight in India. On the 14th we go silent for ten days. Literally. We have enrolled ourselves in an intensive 10-day Vipassana meditation course in Hyderabad. We don't know a whole lot about this, but it was Buddha's course of mediation toward his enlightenment. We'll do it for 10 days, Buddha did it for years. Men and women are kept separate, you cant bring anything that smells, cant read, cant write, no contact with the outside world, and the real kicker, no talking for 10 days. It should certainly prove itself to be quite a challenge.

We'll emerge on the 26th for our train north to Delhi, and onward to Nepal. We'll write before we begin meditation, and surely we will write after.

P.S. What I (Kristina) am happy to report, is that I have engaged in the spicy Indian food battle and am doing surprisingly well. For everyone who knows how sensitive my taste buds are, you will be impressed that I am eating all of the fiery masala dishes with relish. I've been trying everything, and even though my eyes water and I sweat profusely, I can honestly say that I love Indian food and am growing to love the burning sensation as well!
]]> Ephesus — Selchuk, Turkey http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1158747900/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1158747900/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1158747900/tpod.html Tue, 22 Jul 2008 14:07:44 -0400 Kristina... We're not in Berkeley Anymore!
Selchuk, Turkey

A lot has happened since we left Istanbul. It has been an incredible ten days or so learning what life is actually like in Turkey outside of the big city. Thats been a learning process as well as the two of us learning how to travel together and communicate our varied concerns to one another. We have spent a lot of time on buses and a lot of time planning when possible for the next stop in Turkey and that has at times been a stressful process. I think some of what we have realized is that this kind of travel is just inherrently stressful. Of course we have had ups and downs with each other, as well as some physical ups and downs. Most of us would have expected John's stomach to be the first to buckle under the pressure of foreign food. To our surprise and Kristinas discomfort, it has been hers. It has not yet reached emergency status, but there has been a close call or two. We think she is on the mend now.


Channakkale turned out to be more of a stop along the way than something to write home about. It is the tourist home to the Galipoli peninsula across the water. The peninsula is most famous for the WWI landing of the Ausies and Kiwis on April 25th 1915. That day, some 100,000 allied troops as well as some 100,000 Turkish and Russian troops died. It was a day in which the industrialized world realized what happened when technology's new possibilities collided with old style warfare. Generals on both sides sent their men to certain death, knowingly. They stood in the trench, blew a whistle and the infantrymen charged out of the trenches to be mowed down from as little as 8 meters away by the opposing machine guns. The Turkish war hero of the time, and later President, Ataturk has some famous words for his troops. He said, "men, I'm not asking you do fight, I'm asking you to die" pretty powerful stuff anyway. Its a sentimental spot for ausies, kiwis and turks. Every year around that day, there is a huge memorial service. As our first stop outside of Istanbul, we were still vary wary of the touts trying to get our money constantly, so we were naturally stand offish with the locals. As we began our 6km walk from the battle sites back to the small bus stop, we were picked up by "the T shirt man" We hopped in his car and he took us all the way back across the peninsula to our hostel. We tried to offer him money, he wouldn't accept it and appeared to take the gesture as an offense. It was a welcomed refreshment, for the most part Turks are incredibly hospitable and nice.

Bergama was our next stop. This was home to the ancient Roman city of Pergamum. There are some great ruins there which we checked out. As the day grew later the site was of course flooded with tourists. We stayed a few days in an incredibly friendly pensiyon as they are called, run by a hillarious elderly man and his entire family. We ate dinner with them the first night as they sipped heavily on the Turkish choice alcohol, raki. They became increasingly friendly and funny, while the younger son of 29 or so began to spill his guts to Kristina about his engagement seemingly turning sour, the father continued to toast his family's health and our own by mixing his raki with John's beer and Kristina's wine. To lighten the son's spirits and to show us an unforgettable sight, we were taken to a local circumcision party that night. The poor boy was only 7 years old , and the whole town threw him a huge party. Turka Cola flowed freely, and we danced with all the locals. A young girl, maybe 6, and clearly manifested down syndrome fell in love with John. Our friend who had taken us to the party kept saying, "wow, she really have love for you" Much to Kristinas dismay, this girl clearly knew that Kristina was treading in her territory and periodically butted Kristina out of the way with her posterior. We also spent some time with Stan. Stan was a hilarious German staying at our pensiyon also visiting the ruins. He gave us a history lesson one night, and he was so excited about every mythological story and factual anecdote that it frequently almost brought him to tears.

Needing a break, we headed south again to the small Town of Eski Focha. This is a holiday town for well off Turks, there are not many foreign tourists here. Thats why it was so great. We pretty much relaxed all day, one day drinking chay and Turkish kavfe, and one day taking a relaxing boat tour on the aegean sea and eating lunch at sea, which included a whole grilled fish for each of us! All came to a close with a nargileh, turkish water pipe, by the water that night. Our time in Eski Focha really offers a good idea of what turkish life is like. It's not rushed and stressed like ours is in California. They live simply, chay, backgammon and water pipe are constants, and their time seems endless- unlike ours which is spent in a constant rush.

Further south, we landed in Ephesus. This is one of the best preserved Roman sites in the world. Possibly the best preserved, Brandon you'll have to verify that. It is extremely impressive. Some German university sponsored research fund has been restoring the site for 30 years and has managed to do a very good job. Aside from the ruins, what is amazing about the location of Ephesus is that just 2000 years ago it was bordered on one side by the silk road and the other by a harbour. As tourists in 2006 that is very surprising because the aegean is now 7 kilometers away from Ephesus. In only 2000 years the water level has receded 7 km from the shores of Ephesus
While in Selchuk, the town where Ephesus is located, we also visited the temple of Artemis which was one of the 7 wonders of the ancient world. More than anything else, it was sad to see the ruined temple. There was very little to see besides hordes of tourists, a murky swamp, and one poorly reconstructed column.
]]> Its Istanbul not Constantinople — Istanbul, Turkey http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1158263700/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1158263700/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1158263700/tpod.html Tue, 22 Jul 2008 13:55:17 -0400 Kristina... We're not in Berkeley Anymore!
Istanbul, Turkey

Flying into Istanbul was the start of an amazing realization of the size of this city. We were directly over the city 30 minutes prior to landing, and we still appeared to be in dense urban sprawl 30 minutes later at landing. The sheer awe and astonishment at the size of this city continued as we drove 70 kilometers on a coach to the city center. The entire 70 km drive was through city as densly populated as downtown San Francisco. Istanbul is by far the largest city either of us have been in. Its population is well over 16 million in the city limits proper and well over 20 milion in the metro area. Wow.

We finally did arrive in the center of the city, an area called Sultanahmet aptly named after Sultan Ahmet II. DOnt remember much about him, but he did something great for the Ottomans I'm sure. Finding out hostel was easy, provided that we were able to fight the packs and packs of tourist hungry restauranteurs, tour guides, hotel owners, taxi drivers, sock peddlers, shoe shiners, bread sellers, rug sellers, tea sellers...etc It goes on and on. We did make it to our hostel without being swallowed up by the mob.

Day one in Istanbul was full of amazement. Everything is so grand. The old ottoman sultans, until the collapse of the empire after world war 1 continued to build city improvements in their name to show themselves off. They skyline is lined with mosques, literally every block. Every mosque has traditionally 4 mineretes from which the call to prayer is blasted five times a day. The first few times you hear that, its pretty amazing. Every direction you turn your head and ears, the call to prayer explodes from mosques for the general public. Its amazing how quickly you get used to it though. Likeweise, you get used to women clad full burkas covering everything but their eyes.

Residents of Istanbul are proud to be Turkish and proud to be from Istanbul. The Turkish flag flies everywhere, almost as prominent as mineretes, they compete for dominance of the skyline. The city itself relies heavily on its fishing industry. Since the city is divided on three landmasses, cut by the ocean, the bosphorus and the marmara the waters are absolutely essential to the cities' economy. Fishermen line the shores and bridges, and it seams like every 5 minuets or so fishermen pull out rod after rod with 4 or 5 fish. They never run out! The water is crystal clear. I have never seen water through a city of 20 million that is this clear. We counted no more than 3 pieces of trash during the 3 days we were in Istanbul. Apparently, in the early 90s a cleanup effort of some 4 hundred million euro successfully completed a full makeover. Since then, the city and the people have kept it amazingly clean. You can swim in the water, dangle your feet in the water, possibly even drink it, though I wouldn't. Its no Themes anyway, it is the anti-Themes.

We left Istanbul amazed by what we had seen, and incredibly excited to see what the rest of Turkey had to offer. The bus ride was actually pretty neat. Turkish buses are so much better than our buses, complete with bus attendants. For the duration of the 18hr bus ride ride to Channakale a small Turkish man pampered us with hot towels and little cakes.

Of course when you are in unfamiliar places with unfamiliar languages, you have try to figure out how to get along with the basics. Learning how to find the restroom ýs an essential basic. Restrooms, public and private are everywhere in Ýstanbul, just like in the west, a little picture of a man or woman wherever there are bathrooms. Under the man it always says 'bay' and under the woman it always says 'bayan' For some reason, we are both college educated, we did not make the connection that 'bay' means man and bayan means woman. Ýnstead we just assumed the words meant 'restroom'. We finally realized that we had been walking around Ýstanbul for days asking people if they had a 'man' or 'woman' in their shop, a strange question from a western tourýst im sure. We have since been using the correct word 'tuvalet'

Ok, enough for now, there will be more to come. Check the photos.

A Bientot
]]> Immigration...Immigration...Immigration — Christchurch, New Zealand http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1171518420/tpod.html http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1171518420/tpod.html#comments Travel Blogs http://www.travelpod.com/travel-blog-entries/hancocjb/jandksworld/1171518420/tpod.html Mon, 21 Jul 2008 19:31:32 -0400 Kristina... We're not in Berkeley Anymore!
Christchurch, New Zealand

After an Immigration scare in Singapore and again in Australia I have made it to Christchurch, and I currently call Kay and Jenny's couch home.

In Singapore I had some chewing gum in my bag in order to keep my breath so fresh and so clean during my two days getting from point A to B. In Singapore gum is illegal, and there are heavy fines for having any. After some discussion with his friend, the immigration officer gracefully let me into the county. I had to convince him that I in fact was going directly to the airport in order to avoid a behind-the-one way-window-interrogation-session. He let me into the country, suprisingly with my gum.

In Australia the immigration process is incredibly strict, perhaps even intimidating. I was so used to crossing places like the cambodia-thai border where someone in the middle of the desert, sometimes in uniform, looks at your passport and talks with his buddies for a bit and then usually lets you in. In Australia I was immediately confronted by white people with tremendous authority over my immediate situation. I must have had my embarkation card and my passport examined by 10 different people, and the signs posted all over the lobby for heavy fines or prison for failing to declare ANYTHING werent helping. The people who work at Darwin immigration are not happy people either. They scowl at each and every person who passes by. I thought a lot about what it might be like to try to have a holiday or god forbid immigrate to a country like the states as a foreigner. Australian restrictions and laws are a lot more slack than ours. Id like to apologize for any foreigner who finds it intimidating while legally and rightfully entering our country weather it be for holiday, work or for life.

Ive been in New Zealand for less than a day. Ive already got my tax ID number, a good job(thanks Jenny), and a bank account. The only thing left to do is to find a place to live. That should be taken care of in the next few days.

Thanks to all of you for reading, keep reading. I plan to post interesting stories and updates when I do something interesting or update worthy. Ill be a leech on this economy for as long as I deem necessary then off again for round 2.

All my love and good thoughts to you all!
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