It’s been quite some time since the last blog post and oh boy have things been a strange combination of busy and boring! You all have your own stories from the past couple of months, and for nearly everyone 2020 has been totally derailed in ways none of us could have possibly imagined. Me included! Right around now was, originally, supposed to be when The Journey finished. I had plans for Georgia, Azerbaijan, Egypt, Morocco… but even the most treasured of prospects sometimes need to take a back seat to forces beyond our control.
Let me take the time to tell you the last bit of my story now, the final entry on a long list of world travels that I affectionately called “The Journey.” Come with me back to a simpler time, when the world still naively believed 2020 could have a modicum of normalcy, but in retrospect, the clues of us all hurdling toward global upset were ever-present. Follow me as I recant my time in Turkey, to the great and ancient city of Istanbul, then to Troy, Pergamon, and Izmir!
Let me begin by saying the trip into Turkey was an interesting one all by itself. We left from the coastal town of Burgas and rode south along what was once upon a time the ancient nation of Thrace. Eventually coming to the border with Turkey a long immigration procedure began. I say long, but it was really only about 40 minutes – still much longer than anything else I’d dealt with in Europe. One of the reasons it took this long? Well, they made sure to hand out pamphlets detailing how to keep yourself safe from illness one by one, and they even checked our temperatures. I was suffering from some allergies at the time and sniffling so I was worried they might flag me… but lo and behold, my temperature seemed fine and thus they let me pass over – I was so happy! Hours later I stepped off the bus at a very well designed mall/bus station thing that had a single flaw: ATM’s, with the exception of a rather sketchy one with two dudes sitting right next to it, were all downstairs INSIDE the subway station past the ticket machine that you needed money to access. So, because I had not a single lira to my name, I was forced to walk out of the elevated bus station toward the next subway stop at a shopping mall to get cash. I looked rather strange with my hair disheveled and carrying backpacks on my front and back like a turtle wandering through the crowds but it made for a nice memory.
I walked across the old city – now known as Fatih – at around 10pm at night trying to find my hostel. They were quite good, set up very much like a regular hotel but with a very interesting giant chess board on the 6th-floor roof; unfortunately, their breakfast left a lot to be desired, something like a hard-boiled egg, a single triangle of spreadable cheese, three cherry tomatoes, and sliced baguette bread. Overall the design was really nice and in a great part of the city, with cheap and high-end restaurants right outside the front door. Not to mention they sold their own beer and drinks for those who chilled out in the main “lobby” area. I chilled for a night but the first thing I wanted to see were the Walls of Constantinople.
These are, more specifically, the Theodosian Walls erected by the Emperor Theodosius around 413AD. They may look like little more than rubble now, especially since Istanbul has expanded far beyond their confines, but they stood for over 1000 years repelling invaders of every imaginable variety, including the Turks themselves up until 1453 where their numbers and development of the cannon proved to simply be too much for the defenders to handle. Rest assured, though, that they were a technological and engineering marvel of their age.
I spent an entire day walking from the southern tip of the walls about 3/4 of the way north to the Golden Horn before setting off, on foot, back to the hostel. I basically walked from the edge of the ancient city, all the way back to the center in an afternoon. I saw so many things in that time. I wandered into the middle of a stray dog sanctuary which, had the dogs not been tied by chains, surely would have been the end of my time on this Earth; not one of my smarter moments. I wandered past garden after garden taken care of by the community. I met a cat who demanded I pet her for 20 minutes and when I tried to leave literally scratched my leg in anger because I wouldn’t give her any more pets. It was a great time, and the public parks surrounding the structure were very inspiring – they still work hard to maintain this national monument over 1000 years after construction. By the end, my legs hurt so badly there wasn’t much else I could do but eat and sleep.
This would be a good time to mention the food I had while there. The most important thing to mention are the rotisserie chickens that seem a staple to the Turkish diet. How much would you assume this entire roasted chicken, hand spiced from an actual butcher nearby, would cost? If you said anything above $2.14, you’d be wrong. Everywhere I went in not just Istanbul but the country of Turkey itself, take five minutes to search and you’ll find somewhere that will sell you an entire roasted chicken for about $2. I ate an entire one nearly every day; once I did it twice. It’s not KFC! But it’s actually much better! Honestly, it’s one of the things I miss most about the country…
On my walk back I also found an amazing desert thing. I’m not even sure what it is. It might be Lokma? I never got the name. All that happened was I was walking down the street with a rumble in my tummy. Suddenly a sweet fragrance filled my nose and to my right was a store window with some rather professional looking chefs dunking what appeared to be a cross between fried dough and donuts into oil. They smiled and I wandered into an interesting restaurant partially set underground, but made up to look like fine dining; even the waiters wore fine clothes. I asked after the sweets and they communicated a price of about 8 for roughly $1.75. Keep in mind, one of these is nearly 3/4th the size of your fist. Shocked at the price, I bought them and walked outside to snack on what I assumed were Turkish Krispy Kreme.
Suddenly, upon biting into one, my mouth filled to the brim with a warm and sweet liquid which slowly dribbled down my chin. Wondering what the hell just happened, I took a look at the treat to discover the inside was oozing with whatever liquid was now in my mouth. To me, it tasted a bit like honey. Crunchy, warm, sweet, it was the whole package. Thinking back, I realized the chef wasn’t dunking the dough into oil, but instead a bath of whatever juices I was now enjoying. I can’t express just how delicious I found this little snack – neither my words, not that gif do a good enough job of communicating the feelings abounding from the experience. Ambrosia. I will say I ate perhaps six of the eight in only an hour, felt horribly ill after gorging, but didn’t regret it in the slightest
Of course, one cannot discuss Istanbul without discussing the history contained within. Here is the Obelisk of Theodosius. A 1500 year old Roman relic? No. A 2500 year old Ptolemaic relic? Nooo. Try a 3500 year old 18th Egyptian Dynasty monument transported by the Romans to their capital in a show of cultural dominance and resources! Things like this reside all over the city showing the long history of the location’s importance on the world stage. This sits in the middle of a rather long promenade that leads up to the one and only…
What you are seeing now is potentially the most magnificent thing I had the pleasure of observing while on The Journey. I can’t say it enough. The Hagia Sophia is, without a doubt, one of the most impressive things ever created by humanity; and that feeling follows you the entire time you tour the magnificent – and I use that word as accurately as possible – structure. Constructed by the Byzantine Emperor Justinian I, this monument to faith has stood since 537AD.
Can you imagine? The scale! This was built almost 1500 years ago when modern architecture techniques like rebar hadn’t been invented. Can you imagine? We have things like the Empire State building now, and there’s a good chance a skyscraper isn’t too far from where you presently read this, but back then 99% of humanity lived in a village composed entirely of single-story huts made of thatch and dung. Can you imagine? Coming upon the fabled city of Constantinople during a raid or a trade mission and thinking “it can’t possibly live up to the legends,” only to see this looming over the city. Can you imagine!? During antiquity, there were rumors and legends of monuments constructed entirely by giants because no human thought their kind could possibly construct what was being seen; well, the Romans did, they did what even we today would be hard-pressed to do.
Here we got our buddy Jesus surrounded by the pious emperors. If you couldn’t see it, so much of the Hagia Sophia is adorned with breathtaking mosaics such as this. Made of gold, jewels, and porcelain they could easily persuade a pagan as to the power of God in their day and age.
Here you have the Mother Mary with Baby Jesus surrounded by, who I believe, is Justinian and Theodora. You will notice the mosaic is incomplete, surrounded by plain stone or plaster. Well this is a complicated bit of history of the ideological battles waged between Islam and Christianity. Much of the art in the Hagia Sophia is in fact covered by plaster. The reason? Well, for one, Islam tends to be very Iconoclast, or, they don’t believe in the presentation of idols or imagery for the purpose of worship; they take Exodus 20:4-6 – or the Second Commandment – very seriously. This is why you often hear about people being upset whenever representations of the Propet Muhammad are made. Does this mean the covering of these beautiful works of art is all the fault of the devout Islamic Turks? Absolutely not! It’s far more complicated than that. For one, the Byzantines engaged in a bit of idol destruction between 726 and 842 AD themselves. They believed that, because the Iconoclastic Muslims seemed to be winning their holy wars on Earth, maybe there was something more correct to how they went about worshipping God? And so Iconoclasm was the norm for the Christians for about a century.
And finally, when Mehmed the Conqueror came into the city it was found that some of the soldiers were looting the beautiful works of art. There was a greater understanding, though, that this was pretty uncool; the Romans put a lot of love into their work. And so, at various times throughout the history of the Hagia Sophia, the Islamic administrators covered the images with plaster not solely to avoid idolatry, but also in order to protect them from thieves. History is often a lot more complicated than we prefer to think of it, and almost never black and white.
I later checked out the History Museum nearby the Hagia Sophia where the Sarcophagus of Alexander was on display. Alexander was never inside and the name is an intentional misdirection. It does have an image of Alexander the Great! He’s the one at the closest corner here, trampling a Persian under horse.
I couldn’t have gone to Istanbul without visiting the Grand Bazaar! I’ll just say that I did indeed find it fairly Grand, though not to the same levels as some of the other bazaars I’ve explored around the world. It reminded me significantly of the stone shopping centers I found in Myanmar or Indonesia, though honestly not much bigger. I DID get lost about twice. One of those times was when I took a turn down what was labeled an exit but in reality lead to a courtyard lined with cafes, a toilet, and stairs to small second-floor apartments. So, I could say that the place certainly was bizarre.
Making my way over across the Golden Horn and into Taksim to meet some friends, I also happened across the Galata Tower. I can’t tell you a thing about it because I didn’t go inside or read anything! The line was really long, even at like 6pm, made worse by the fact that the crowd was social distancing. Maybe Wikipedia can give you some better information than I.
Istanbul was as grand and interesting as I had been lead to believe by history and friends. During my time on The Journey I’d heard some people speak poorly of the place but, in all honesty, it was one of my favorite cities for reasons that don’t even come up in this article. I extended my time there by one day, and mulled over extending it another two, but forces beyond my control pushed me to make my way forward. The next day I headed back to that same elevated bus station, bought a ticket, and waited for my departure next a woman in a mask, dish-washing gloves that were never removed, and a thin garbage bag donned like a poncho. Time was running out.
Asia Bound – Things get Quiet
And so the bus drove around Thrace and went on down the Gallipoli Peninsula before boarding a transport boat making its way across the Hellespont (or Dardanelles). Massive shipping cruisers passed us by as the sun set across the horizon. For millennia the area served as the crossroads of the world, a fact no less true today than it was then. Roughly 48000 ships still make their way through the passageway, almost 3 or 4 times as many ships as pass through both the Suez Canal and the Panama Canal. Making my way from Europe over to Asia for the first time since 2019, I was excited!
This photo is from the European side at a place known as Kilitbahir. It hosts a citadel fortress originally constructed by the Ottomans, as well as a WW1 era trench fort that had some serious importance during The Battle of Gallipoli. It was fun to explore and climb to the top, especially in the horrifically strong winds and rains that buffeted the tower as I slowly made my way across the ancient stones. The inside boasted a rather thorough exhibit on the history of Turkish military in the manner of society, logistics, and success.
Across the water sits the town of Çanakkale, of which I have no photos for some reason. It was a really nice little place! Generally considered to be “college town,” this much was evident on the first night I arrived to discover all of the bars filled to capacity with a younger crowd smoking shisha and having a pint. I was too tired to go out, figuring I’d have the opportunity the next day. Instead, I just went wandering around the dimly-lit cobblestone streets and alleys that seemed more suited for horse and buggy than modern cars; it had such character. Unfortunately, as I woke up the next day, I found a long line outside my window on the street of students leaving for home – Uni was closing down, and kids were being pushed to get out. Me? Nahhhhh! I was determined to enjoy The Journey in face of difficulty! So I went to check out Kilitbahir, and chatted with a few other backpackers in the only hostel in town that we all happened to stay at. One of them was trying desperately to schedule a flight home to America before airports shut down. The man at the front desk discussed the canceling of an annual festival celebrating the victory at Gallipoli on March 18th. The rest of us, it seemed, really only had one topic to discuss.
Didn’t stop any of us from continuing on! The other American in the group, whose entire career was tied to the tourism industry, figured he’d rather try to make the most of his time before he was forced to go home. Last I saw him in Çanakkale he wasn’t sure if he’d head to Izmir or Istanbul. I, on the other hand, was lucky enough to come across three local students who decided to use their time off from school to road trip across the country. Guess where they were heading? Izmir! But they had a couple of pit stops to make along the way. Above is a picture of us making lunch while the Isle of Lesbos sits across the water. I regret not remembering their names now, but they were super super nice and knew how to make a killer picnic lunch.
The first stop on the trip was the famous ruins of Troy. Which is actually more amazing than you think! There are actually IX layers of Troy spanning roughly 3500 years. Troy VI (1800BC to 1300BC) is believed to be the same one from the Iliad and the Odyssey, mostly due to dating and historical records naming the city of Wilusa in the area, the same name originally written down by Homer himself – just in Greek, and with language shift. Confused about what I mean by layers?
Here is a representation of it. Troy I goes back to about 3000BC, and Troy IX was the Roman Troy. It retained its importance right up until Constantinople became the imperial capital, and Constantine himself even considered building his New Rome at Troy! It had lost some of it’s significance by then, however. Troy I was actually right on the water, at a bay that no longer exists because over the millennia it was filled in with sediment from the river that now passes by the site. Not being located directly on the water, like the city that would become Istanbul was, it was ultimately passed over for consideration.
Let me tell you, this place was cold. I mean, really cold. Cold winds from the Anatolian Plateau bisect with cold winds from the Dardanelles Strait at the top of the hill that is Troy to create gusts of chilling vortexes. We were all excited to see Troy, but fairly eager to escape solely because it was so cold! I would have stayed longer but my only option would have been to hitchhike out of there because the other three were leaving. That would not have been realistic because we were the only people there beyond the staff at the nearby museum (really great) and gift shop. The staff, by the way, were pretty confused as to why we were even there as rumors permeated that historic sites would be closing down. Despite this, I bought a Museum Pass for the entire country! I didn’t buy it before I went into the Hagia Sophia for some reason. Cost about $100. This is important and will come up later. For the locals? I think it was $10. I do think local taxpayers should get a bigger discount, but 90%?! Anyway, Troy was great and I recommend it to anyone in the area; worth an entire day.
We didn’t stay an entire day. We went off further south to hit up the once-very-important-but-now-not-so-much city of Bergama, ancient name Pergamon. One of the ancient kingdoms of the Diadochi.
I say Pergamon but in reality these pictures are of the nearby healing city of Allianoi. In this photo you can actually see Pergamon. If you look to the top left of the photo you’ll see two massive hills. The second from the left is the acropolis! Even from here you could see the ruins of the ancient city at the top, with marble cascading down the slopes while pillars still stood upright near the top. It absolutely dominates the surrounding area and simply makes sense as the center of a local fortress of power.
Our plan was to also go up there but the winds were too severe that day for the cable car – the only real avenue of access – to function. Instead we spent a little bit of time at Allianoi which was very cool.
Once upon a time a spa stood here with what were said to be mystical healing waters. The springs still flow. The spa sits in ruins. Half the complex is underground or was, once upon a time. I got lost a few times wandering down dark corridors or between massive pillars. Not much is historically known in records outside of a few contemporary references, but there exist plenty of spoken legends. Down that dark hallway entrance you see there are skylights in the ceiling that let the sun in. According to one of the local guides, those with ailments would walk down the long corridor and from the holes would come encouragement to continue on their journey of healing – a partially religious ceremony meant to instill faith in the healing gods meant to treat you. At the end waited the healing waters of the spring. Just as with Troy, I wanted to stay much longer but my friendly hitchhikees were eager to get to Izmir for the day. We left after a short stop at the local museum. These two trips together meant I had used my $100 museum pass four times (including Troy) in one day! The total cost of these four entrances, I believe, was about $25. Keeping this in mind, we headed off for Izmir and all that that coastal city entailed.
It was here in Izmir where the elephant in the room all us backpackers had been ignoring really began its stampede throughout the china shop (I’m aware that’s a different idiom). The first person I met as I walked into my hostel was a Japanese man who’d spent roughly $10,000 to finally get a flight back home after multiple canceled ones. A German man was on the phone with an airline company trying desperately to get the very last flight from Turkey back to Frankfurt before they shut down all transportation into the EU. More than a few travelers showed up at the hostel because the other two down the street were not accepting guests due to a drop in demand. The endless alleys of very modern looking bars and restaurants were shuttered. Starbucks was closed.
The restaurant where I took this picture of delicious Turkish Kofte cheerfully asked where I was from. When I said New York, their expressions turned gravely dour, and all but the cashier ran for hand sanitizer. The situation in New York City at the time was being detailed on the wall-mounted TV.
At least In House Hostel was open, and provided a very nice place to mull over the options. The American who couldn‘t decide whether he was going to head for Istanbul or Izmir? Well, I found him here, intensely debating with himself whether he should just go home. A Canadian I‘d also met in Çanakkale, Sadie, was in the same boat as us except she had job commitments to consider. The American brought us on a tour of the city as he‘d been there before and he found the street deserted compared to just a week before. On the “very busy” walking street that ran along most of the downtown, he said, there were maybe 1/5 of the people he‘d had to deal with previously. It gave us all the heebie-jeebies and so we did the only thing three young North Americans could think to do in such a situation – drink.
It did also happen to be St. Patrick‘s Day! We were going to drink anyway but this added a certain joyful desperation to the energy at the party. That party also happened to be rather large. It was me, the other American, and Sadie. Joining us were four Erasmus students we met who were on their own Uni-break road-trip, another red-haired American who had his plans of setting up a bar in the city destroyed by the changing situation, and a Dutchmen we‘d picked up and made friends with who was also on his way home the next day. We all got pretty drunk and it was pretty great. It happened to be at the only remaining bar celebrating anything festive; we tried three different places, all of them closed. They loved hosting our group as they figured we were the only out of towners left at that point. The next day was my birthday which I spent with a hangover, resulting in me doing absolutely nothing of note. This, too, would prove to be a mistake.
Time for a food break! Here we have local favorites for the city of Izmir. On the left you have what is affectionately named the Chocolate Bomb. Imagine a thick wheat dumpling, or maybe a less aerated cream puff, and fill it with chocolate mousse. I was really pushed to go try them from a famous store in town where I got a regular, a caramel, and a white chocolate bomb. They were pretty great but finishing even one felt like I was willingly ingesting a pill that was guaranteed to give me diabetes. I ate all three in one sitting! Cloyingly sweet! But I really understood why people enjoyed the treats so much. On the right you have what is called Kumru. The meat seemed to be something akin to a hot dog, sliced down the middle into 6ths, then deep-fried before being put on a sandwich and topped with cheese, pickles, and mayo. This might not sound appetizing, but it actually was a pretty good snack sandwich that you won‘t find in too many places that’s worth a try.
Back to the story. Me and Sadie were still adamant to avoid going home by this point, March 19th, and set off to see Ephesus, the site of one of the 7 Ancient Wonders of the Ancient World and a place we had spent the entire trip hearing about needing to go visit. So we get on the train, ride it for the hour and a half that is necessary to get so far south, walk over to the bus station (enjoying an entire chicken on our way) and start asking about the bus to Ephesus. Broken English is exchanged, google translate is used, faces are red. Eventually, a man comes over and tells us the news: The Turkish government has shut down all cultural sites in the country as of that morning for a minimum of 14 days. Distressed, I ask him again to make sure. He is, that‘s his main bus route and he’s not happy. Remember the nation-wide museum card I bought three days before? Now totally useless. I only used 1/4 of its value and there are no possibilities of vouchers or refunds (I checked). Dejected, Sadie and I consider getting a taxi and trespassing into the site; no staff to stop us if the site is shut down. We decide against that and take up the offer to go to the nearby mountaintop wine village of Sirince instead for the afternoon.
It was so depressing. Stores open, but almost no visitors – this seems to be where the very few remaining tourists chose to go. I have never been shouted after to buy ice cream so much in my life, and it was cold here! They were as desperate as they come. One shop keeper started his pitch with “there won‘t be a season this year,” said with a sad smile. Right up until this moment, Sadie and I both were resisting returning home from our journeys. After wandering the deserted streets and sitting down for local coffee to discuss the fact that there was no longer anything for us to do even if we did stay, we both started ordering planes home.
I went back to Izmir where I found the other American on his way out the door catching a plane for Boston. He was even lucky because he‘d tried to get a bus back to Istanbul for the flight only to find out those were suddenly shut down – not even our hostel had heard – and got a connecting flight minutes before they stopped selling. I stayed at In House Hostel for another few days getting to know the very nice staff better, talking with the frantic German who ended up doing a WorkAway at a local farm instead of going home, chilling with the Barcelonan who convinced the hostel owner to let him stay there reduced cost as housekeeping. I always wondered what had happened to those two and whether they eventually got home safe. Whatever their story, mine ended up with me on the way to the airport, a connecting flight through Switzerland, and a month-long two-part quarantine once I finally got back to The States. Turkey was in my rear-view mirror, and it was a troubled trek that I look back on with envy.
And so that was it. The Journey was over. From September 2019 until April 2020 I was off on a trip where I made it to 16 different countries (China included), 13 of them brand new. I made friends who I treasure to this day, I had experiences I‘ll be thinking about until my death bed, and I went places that I shared with all of you that I never could have dreamed of. I hope you enjoyed touring the world by my side and seeing all the connections it has to offer, big or small. Thank you so much for following along with The Journey through all its highs, lows, and oddities. I couldn’t have done it without you.
But just so you know: Stay tuned.
It was both an honor and a pleasure to share this journey with you.