Rollin', rollin' . . . .

I barely arrived home than I took off for a 10-day camping trip, which was shortened by two days by cold and thunderstorms. We drove out of the Collegiate Peaks campground on Thursday in a rain of hail and a lightning storm. Michelle and grandkids have come to GJ to visit for 3 days instead. Here it's hot hot hot. I wanted to go to the National Monument yesterday, but by 11am it was already getting sweltering and we decided to jump in the swimming pool instead.

I of course haven't settled into any kind of routine yet. Mostly I've just been packing and unpacking, touching base with people, trying to figure out what my next direction is. There is no lack of volunteer opportunities. Paying work may be another story. :o) We shall see. GJ looks like a boom town. I can't believe how much construction has taken place here in the past two years. I guess this is all part of the economic stimulus package. Seems like a good idea - roads being repaired, bridges, city landscaping. It's good.

I was going through my photos, looking at Tblisi photos, what a fun weekend that was, what a pretty place. It's so hard to keep from having that surreal dream feeling as I look back over the past year and a half. Before I left for Armenia I had been traveling in Mexico and Central America. So in the past 18 months I've visited 20 countries!: Mexico, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Armenia, Thailand, Dubai (UAE), Georgia, Turkey, Bulgaria, Macedonia, Albania, Montenegro, Croatia, Slovenia, Switzerland, Estonia and Finland. It becomes most amazing to me when I spell it out like that! Especially considering I spent 10 of those months in one country. Whew. I'm tired. I think I'll go back to bed.

A Few Days in Switzerland

20 June 2010, Saturday
“There is no such thing as development in general; there is only the development of the one or other or third or fourth or thousandth person. There have to be as many developmental processes as there are human beings on the earth.” Rudolf Steiner

Spent a wonderful day in Basel with Ruth, Walter and Rowenna. I don't know if Basel is listed among the top 100 cities in the world to visit, but if not it should be. This was my second visit to Basel and I truly love it. It's a beautiful old city, full of rambling cobblestone streets, vine=covered rock wall and lovely architecture. I must say too that it felt good to be back among that which is familiar and feels like home: familiar faces, food, music, culture.

Ruth and I met up with Walter and Rowenna at the train station after shopping around stores looking for “gummiesteifel” (rubber boots) for our upcoming trip to Finland. We headed then directly to the restaurant for Pizza. I'm stil suffering from sticker shock around here. Not only is everything more costly than in all the countries I've been traveling in, it's even significantly more costly than in the US. Lunch cost $20. That's per person. That's no drinks, no salads, no frills. Just a good pizza. Okay. Onward.

After lunch we wandered around Basel, shopping for boots and enjoying the culture. We finally found some reasonably priced boots, sandwiched in between two concerts at the Music School.

Oh, the wonders I have seen . . . .
A kinetic ferry across the Rhine. A cable stretches across the river which is attached to the prow of the ferry. By turning the rudder one way or the other and pointing the ferry upstream, the ferry will be pushed by the force of the water as it crosses the river.


An environmental education art show to raise awarenes of the importaince of not littering. The display Rowenna is pointing to uses a play on the German word “Grullt” which means “rubbish” but remove the double “l” and it means “to rest” or “to relax”. The sign says, “Rubbish by the Rhine” or “Relax by the Rhine.”


Here Walter points to the sign standing by each display which gives directions to the nearest trash can.


Beautiful fountains all around the city.


Great street performers. Drop a few coins in the hat and the Golden Man and his dog will come alive. The dog begins to bark and the man toddles to his feet as if his bones are old and aching, googles his springy eyes at you, opens a pocket on his chest that reveals a large plastic heart, and blows you a kiss. Then he carefully sits back down and pats the air above the dog to quiet him down. The best franc spent all day. :o)


Whimsical fountains. I must include 3 photos here. This is a pond in one of the central parks with a set of whimsical, mechanical fountains. First is a close up of one of the pieces, a machine with a sieve which eternally scoops up water and lets it drain out. Second a photo of several of the machines working. And last, the wonder and fascination it engenders in observers (Ruth and Rowenna).

Beautiful architecture everywhere you look.

A concert in the park to raise money and awareness for all the refugees (fluchtlingstag) who have been forced to flee their homelands and find save haven in Switzerland. This was a really good Basel raggae band. They gathered quite a crowd and had every jumping.

On Sunday afternoon, Ruth and I attended a 4-hour production of the Magic Flute put on by teachers, students and residents of a nearby anthroposophical school/community for children and adults with special needs. This was a remarkable performance in all respects: the costumes, stage settings, and performances where all near professional quality. Most remarkable of all though was to see the community members, those who are learning to cope with such challenges as down's syndrome and autism, in the performance. Really, really remarkable. This school/community houses some 50 residents, has a school for children, many of whom live at home with their families and come to school for the day, and has workshops and gardens. They have a bread bakery, a pottery shop, a bio-dynamic garden and farm animals. Bread, vegetables and pottery are created for their own use as well as for sale in the community at large.

Next Chapter

Well, I've been hanging out here in beautiful Bled, just vegging, and I guess I should have been using my time more productively and journaling the summation of all my experiences. But believe me, just because I haven't written my thoughts and feelings down certainly doesn't mean I haven't had them. To paraphrase Dylan Thomas (I do hope he'll forgive me): "My day begins with the water-birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name above the farms and the white horses and I rise and walk abroad in a shower of all my days." He says it so beautifully. Yes, I do. I walk around the lake and over the hills and along the mountain paths and through the villages "in a shower of all my days." I continue to feel so blessed by this wonderful gift I've been given: the opportunity to travel as I've always wished to, good health and a spirit willing to step into the unknown.

I was walking down the street today and thinking that I've dropped down into so many different towns and cities in the past three months that now none of them are disorienting any more. No matter what, I step out of the bus or the train or the tram or the taxi, big city or small town, and I don't feel confused or lost or fearful (I'm not fearless - I have all those feelings during my travels). I study the map in advance and always think it will look familiar when I step out, but no. What I find is never what I expect. The map is flat - the town is wrapped around a series of hills (photo to the left was taken near Berat); or, there are so many little dead-end streets with no name that they can't possibly put them on the map; or, I'm dropped off someplace completely unexpected and I have no idea where I am; or, lo and behold, they don't use the same alphabet; or, none of the streets are labeled; or, the map says "library" but Slovenians say "knjižnica". But not to worry. I just simply no longer feel confused or overwhelmed. I just look around and start walking. Or sometimes (like in Ljubljiana) I just stand in the rain in the middle of a crowd pushing to get on the tram and ask loudly, "Does this tram go to the train station? Anyone? Does anyone speak English?" And some kind person will tap me on the shoulder and point to where I need to go or say, "Follow me."

But I guess I've veered from the topic. Or have I? What is the topic anyway? While writing this I got busy sending emails to everyone. I'm just getting ready to board the night-train for Switzerland. No more internet for awhile. I don't know what the situation will be like in Switzerland. With any luck I'll be able to get a connection at Ruth's house.

A Walk Around Bled

A stream that runs into Lake Bohinj (Bo-heen).









A lovely church in a nearby village.

An old hay-drying rack.

I'm a Tumbleweed

I try to remember when I was first bit by the travel bug. I believe it was when I was about 8 or 9 years old. I grew up in a small mountain town in Colorado - Idledale. And it was. We had two grocery stores, a post office, a 3-room school that taught 8 grades and about 500 residents. My mother worked in Denver, about 30 miles away. Occasionally my younger brother Jon and I would stow away in the backseat when she left for work in the hopes that she wouldn't discover us and we'd get an exciting day in the big city. But I digress.

My first real memories of wanting to travel began when I had an older friend, a surrogate grandfather, who owned shelves and shelves full of National Geographics. I would go visit him and curl up in a chair with an armload and dream of the day when I would travel to all these exotic places.

I'm a Lucky Girl!

“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.” Martin Buber

Friday, 28 May 2010

The ship from Dubrovnik to Hvar

This was a long day. Last night I spent the night in a hostel in Hvar which was just too much like a freshman college dorm. Everyone had their stuff thrown all over the room and it was party, party, party. Hvar is beautiful, but it's a sailor's and a college kid's paradise.

View of Hvar

Ahhhh . . . if I were a sailor, what a lovely place to sail it would be! But I'm neither a sailor nor a freshman, so I woke up very early, grabbed my bag and headed down to the port to catch the 6:30am catamaran to Split - another beautiful coastal town with a castle on a hill above it.

Split

Expect high-priced stores (where I treated myself to a beautiful scarf), and lots and lots of sailboats. I had made reservations in a hostel in Split, the only reasonably priced one I could find online. But when I arrived the scene was the same as Hvar: very small room with bunk beds crammed in and absolutely no place to walk, the floor covered with clothes and everything imaginable. So I begged off, saying I was feeling sick and didn't think it would be a good idea for me to sleep in a such crowded room.

Then I put my stuff in a locker at the train station and wandered around for a few hours trying to figure out what to do. I went from internet cafe to tourist information office to train station to bus station and back again. I finally decided to leave Split and continue on to Plitvice Lakes. Unfortunately, I really didn't have a clear idea what the lay of the land was or where I would be staying. Everything I could find on the internet was either no help or in Croatian. The tourist information office had information for Split but didn't seem to know about anything else in the country. Likewise the folks at the bus and train. I finally dashed off to the market for some fruit, bread, cheese and yogurt and jumped on the 12o'clock bus.

It took 6 hours to get from Split to Plitvice. The bus dropped me off at 6pm in front of the Plitvice Lakes Park entrance. The offices were closed and there was no one around. I had a place picked out to stay but had no idea how far it was from the park entrance. I tried hitchhiking for awhile but it was obvious no one was going to stop so I began walking. Within about 3 km I came to a small region called Rastovic. This is near the second entrance to the park and there was gated parking and a restaurant and a sign that said “rooms for rent.” A nice young woman who spoke English made a phone call for me and soon Antonio showed up to take me back to his lovely home. So here I am in the home of Antonio and Bora.

It's common throughout Croatia to build a house with rooms to let. The owners live in one half and rent out the other half. Croatia is beautiful. Plitvice is a tourist site and a main source of income for locals. Their is spotless and tidy. I plan to stay here for three nights, one whole day in the park and one day to relax and go for short walks.

Sunday, May 30, 2010
Homestays near Plitvice Lakes (Jeszera) National Park
There are two entrances to Plitvice Lakes NP, both of them on Hwy E71, the main road between Split and Zagreb. The Park is on the west side of the road. Approaching from Zagreb you reach entrance #1 first. Entrance #2 is 4-5km further on toward Split. Continuing south toward Split another 2km is the entrance to the small village of Mucinje (pronounced moo-seen-a), again to the west of the highway.

There are many small towns and villages along the road, mostly not visible from the road as the vegetation throughout this region is very thick. However, if you walk about 50m you will see several houses and apartment buildings, many with a sign for rooms or apartments (zimmer) to rent. What's really nice about Mucinje – well, next to the people there of course – is that it's only a 10 minute walk along a gravel path though the forest from Mucinje to the park entrance. How sweet is that? I stayed in two different homes. My first stay was limited to one night because a large group was coming the next night and they had no more available rooms. So my next two nights I stayed in another homestay. The first house was the home of Antonio and Bora Gaspar, Mukinje 49, 53231 Plitvicka jezera, tel: 053-774-322. I had a private room, a private outside entrance and use of the kitchen downstairs.

My 2nd and 3rd days I stayed with Rade and Mirjana Cuic (Chuich), Mukinje P-8, 53231 Plitvice Jezera, Hrvatska (Croatia), tel: 091-19447800.

Here again I had a private room, shared bath and use of the kitchen. Both places where I stayed offered meals at an additional cost – a wonderful bonus as there are only expensive restaurants nearby at the hotels in the park. Expect to pay 20-30 euro there. I can't imagine a better way to visit Plitvice than to also enjoy the wonderful hospitality of the Croatian people.

Even if you are unable to reach either of these homestays in advance (neither has internet presence at the moment), you can just show up and almost be guaranteed a stay somewhere, as nearly every other home has rooms to let. The economy is still suffering from the war, but tourism is growing and homestays is one way that you can contribute to the local economies and local people. In exchange, you will have a rich experience that will be the highlight of your trip. And save money to boot!

Plitvice Jezera is a World Heritage Site. Remarkable turquoise travertine pools, lush vegetation, waterfalls and the sound of water bubbling, falling, rushing, splashing . . . .

Monday, May 31, 2010
Talk About Great Planning!
I had exactly enough kuna to take the bus from Mucinje, Croatia to Zagreb, then the train on to Ljubljana, Slovenia. And . . . . . . buy a cup of coffee and use the toilet once. :o) Marjana, my homestay host in Mucinje, had packed a lunch for me which saved the day! What very wonderful people. They made my stay in Croatia so special.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Lake Bled, Slovenia
The final stop on my solo journey. After this I go on to Switzerland, where I'll stay with Ruth for 10 days then we'll continue on to Finland for 3 weeks.

I thought that Lake Bled would be very touristy and expensive and that I would only spend a few days here, then move around some more in search of peace and quiet. But it turns out that the tourist season has not quite begun and I share this beauty with only a relative handful of others. This will be my base for the next two weeks to explore the surrounding region. There are mountains to hike in, beautiful scenery, a lake, a castle, a train ride through the mountains that will take me to the Mediterranean and Italy. What more could I ask for?

I keep thinking what a really miraculous and wonderful trip this has been. I really can't describe it any other way. The trip was so long that it was impossible for me to plan. I had a few marker dates to meet but other than that I was completely free. Ruth's schedule was such that she wasn't free until the end of June. Sirkka had a week in July free when we could visit. And so I purchased the tickets to fly from Switzerland to Finland on June 25th. My flight home would be on July 23rd. So between early April when I planned to leave Armenia and mid- to late June I was completely free to follow any agenda at all. I can only say that a Divine Wisdom much greater than myself has gifted me with the answer to a lifelong wish, and I am eternally grateful. It has been wonderful beyond all my imaginings. I have passed through so many different countries, times, and cultures. I have met so many beautiful people. And all of it unplanned.

Sometimes people say to me, “Oh, you're so brave to travel alone.” Mostly these are US Americans who say this. I meet many other travelers out here soloing, or if not soloing, then at least not afraid to solo. I can only say that if someone sees it as brave, it is only because they have no trust in their own ability to take care of themselves, and no faith in the essential goodness of humanity. Those are the only characteristics required for solo travel throughout the world. Well, that and a desire to meet people and make new friends. Everywhere I go, people are people. No one ever says, “Oh, you're so brave to go to the grocery store in Denver by yourself.” But to go to a grocery store in Croatia? Oh, my, one must be very brave indeed. Now, isn't that silly? No one ever says, “Oh, you're so brave to go hiking along the Highline Canal by yourself.” But go hiking on a well-trodden forest path in Slovenia? Oh, my, how brave. It's so very sad how we frightened human beings are of each other. Our fear of each other is the cause of our hatred and wars. If only we could reach out to one another more instead of closing our doors and our minds in fear . . . .

I remember an exercise we did during EST training. We were put into a very relaxed state, then told that everyone around us was out to get us. I went unconscious during the process and when I awoke, people were screaming and vomiting and crying. Really crazy. But it is so true that we are terrified of one another. Our own species, and we are terrified of one another.

My lesson, for those who choose to listen, is that there is nothing to fear but fear itself. I do believe I'm not the first to say that. Fear is an invisible cage. We create the bars ourselves, then we look out of them and say, “Look at those terrible bars,” as if our view of the world is real, as if what we have created is the truth. The truth is that this earth is our home, other people are our species, and we're never going to get out of this place alive anyway. So what is there to fear?

Enough of that. I've had a magnificent time, and I'm now in a beautiful place where I'll have the opportunity to write, read, and reflect. I'm staying in an old boarding house, built in 1909. I feel happy here, as if there are friendly ghosts hanging about, as if there has been much love and happiness within these walls. I feel as if this house likes me, and I like it. Is that silly? I don't think so. :o) The owner tells me he was born here, in room #8. When I told him I felt a lot of love here, that many good things had happened here. He said, yes, people had died here but no on had ever taken their own life here. That, he said, is not a good thing. The spirits of those who die violently leave a negative energy behind. My room is furnished simply. Two twin beds, a bureau for my clothes, a small round table and two chairs, a dressing table with mirror. The foot-board of one of the beds has someone's name carved in it, a child's handwriting. All the finishes on the furniture are original so there are many marks and chips. An old ceramic sink hangs from the wall by the door and a tall hot-water radiator heats the room in the winter months. There's a large window, almost floor to ceiling, covered with a lace curtain. The flooring is a lovely wood parquet, the wood slightly warped with age.
The sun is coming out! I must close this down and go outside to enjoy.

Bled Solvenia

“The use of traveling is to regulate imagination by reality, and instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are.” – Samuel Johnson

I'm in beautiful Bled, Slovenia, the last stop on my solo journey. Wow. Chocolate chip cookies, free city maps, and a library with free internet! What more could one ask from life. Okay, Ill ask for a keyboard with the Y in the right place and an apostophe and a question mark I can find. Other than that, I'm blissed. I will spend 2 weeks here. Ill upload photos soon, assuming of course that I can maneuver this Slovenian keyboard.

A Walk Around Greater Dubrovnik

“Remember what Bilbo used to say: It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.” J.R.R. Tolkien


I feel quite at home here. Very western, very European.

Oh the sea, the sea . . .

“A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.” Lao Tzu



Having grown up by the sea, how would one manage to live with out it? That sound, that wonderful, primal sound. It has no beginning and no end, it's always changing and always the same. And the smell! Oh my Goddess. It contains all life in it.

How painful the war must have been to the people who live here. This is such a peaceful place, and to have it torn apart by the sound of bombers and rockets . . . . . I just can't imagine. I walk around . . . . . there are mothers pushing baby strollers and chatting with friends, children swimming and shrieking with joy, teens strutting their stuff, old men sitting in cafes drinking coffee and discussing the affairs of the world. And all that was shattered. I can't imagine.

I would love to retire here, also (as in, as well as several other places I've been). I think the cost of living here is about the same as the US. Though, perhaps, this town would compare in beauty to an Aspen while it's cost of living might be more like a Grand Junction. Food in the markets is about the same as home. I'm paying $600/month for "rent." So, about the same, eh wot?

Strategies for Traveling on a Shoestring

There are certain strategies I've learned as I've traveled around that seem to work well for me and I thought I'd list them here.
1) Trust. Everything begins here. Trust yourself to know you can do it. Trust other people. Trust life.
2) Start small.
3) Wake up early to beat the crowds and the heat. The tour buses usually start arriving around 9am-10am. I arrived at the castle a little after 8 this morning. There were only a few others about. By 10am the sun was shining brightly and I was glad I was walking down those steep stone steps as the hundreds passing me were on their way up. I pitied them their time in the hot sun. I had gotten some marvelous photos, free of interference. They will have to strain to find a photo shot without a dozen people in it.
4) Walk, don't ride. It's environmentally friendly, cheaper and gets you acquainted with all parts of the area where you are visiting.
5) Don't stay in the center of the action. Seek places away from the tourist center. You'll have to walk further (great exercise), it will cost less and you'll see the local world instead of just the package tourist sites.
6) Do all the free things first. Then, if you're still wanting more, take a tour.
7) Get the biggest bang for your travel buck by traveling for as long as you can at one time. I like to travel for 2-4 months at a time. I figure, why pay $1,500 for airfare for two weeks when I can pay the same amount and stay much longer? Not only do I save money, but again - it's kind to the environment
8) Shop around for your airline tickets.
9) Visit art galleries and artisan markets.
10) Pack a lunch and sit in the park instead of going to restaurants.
11) Keep track of your spending daily. I know exactly how much I'm spending every day. If I'm going over my budget I take a quiet day. If I'm doing well, saving pennies, I splurge.
12) Watch the junk buying, be it junk food, useless trinkets, whatever. An amazing amount of money can dribble away on nothing. Buy soft drinks in local markets rather than from vendors - half the price.
13) Stay in one place for at least 3-4 days. Since I'm traveling for 2 months or more, I can only have a general idea of where I'll be and when. I stay in hostels, talk to other travelers, find out what's nice, what's not. When I arrive in a town I stay as long as I wish. I look for places/towns I like, then I settle in. Moving about gets costly.
14) Stay in hostels that allow you to cook and/or provide at least one meal a day. Avoid restaurants. I don't care for restaurant food day in and day out. I prepare my own food, buy bread, cheese, fruits and vegetables at the market, and splurge on a nice meal in a restaurant every few days. Then I really enjoy those restaurant meals.
15) Go slow. Slow travel is like slow food. Take time to savor the place where you are.
16) Be content with simple pleasures: walks on the beach, people-watching in a park or sidewalk cafe, sunrises and sunsets, meeting and talking with other travelers and locals. If you need a thrill a minute you'll have to pay.
17) Go off-season.
18) Internet help - UNESCO, Lonely Planet
19) Be your own travel agent. Get free flyers from travel agents. Go on line and find travel agencies then copy their itineraries.
20) Volunteer - www.goabroad.com, volunteers for peace.
21) Network.
22) Let your travel pay for itself: write a book, give workshops and classes
23) Travel light.
24) Have friends meet you for parts of your travels.
25) Where to stay? Couch-surfing, hostels, homestays, friends old and new.
26) Educate yourself. Learn about things like public transportation, luggage storage, etc.

I Like Albanians!

What you've done becomes the judge of what you're going to do - especially in other people's minds. When you're traveling, you are what you are right there and then. People don't have your past to hold against you. No yesterdays on the road. ~William Least Heat Moon, Blue Highways

19 May 2010, Friday

After two days of touring the castle and museums in Berat I head off for a hike in the nearby mountains and a local culture experience. Berat is not so heavily touristed that it's lost its authenticity but still, there are a few other tourists wandering about. I walk to the bus station and catch a bus to Bogove, where, the hostel owner tells me, there are some beautiful waterfalls and a swimming hole that the locals enjoy. The bus is a big one, an old touring bus too worn out for tourists. By the time we reach the edge of Berat it's full.

The Joy of Traveling Solo

“I see my path, but I don't know where it leads. Not knowing where I'm going is what inspires me to travel it.”
Rosalia de Castro

A few friends have asked to learn more about the kind of traveling I'm doing, so this is mostly about solo traveling.

It's wonderful here in Ohrid. I can only say that we in the US are very misinformed and ill-informed about the rest of the world and perhaps mostly about this region - the Balkans, the Caucasus, Eastern Europe. I met a man yesterday (a philosopher, a teacher and a linguist who speaks 6 languages fluently) and we spoke for a long time. I expressed this same thought to him and he looked at me a little sympathetically and said, "It's known throughout the world that people in the US are very poorly educated and informed." I can only say to you, "Come!" It is so nice here, so fascinating. This is the place where western civilization began. This is OUR heritage, as well as the heritage of the people currently living here. I have only been to this one town in Macedonia. The people here are wonderful.

Because the economy is poor in this region, many people open their homes to travelers. They make little "B&Bs" or hostels out of their home. Throughout this region, because in the past (and the present) extended families often lived together, some of these houses are very large and have plenty of extra, unused rooms. Here in Ohrid nearly every other house offers a homestay it seems. But I also did homestays in Bulgaria, Turkey and Georgia. Some may list themselves as a hostel on www.hostelworld.com but they still occupy the house, the family intermixes with the travelers (as opposed to a business hostel which has hired people working there). Armenia has not yet caught on to the idea - a state of affairs I'd like to have a hand in changing.

I generally am greeted warmly. I found Bulgarians to be the least friendly, but that may just be their nature. I think they tend to be more reserved with strangers in general. Most people are quite happy to help me, talk to me, educate me, show me around. Greet the world with open arms and it will hug you back. We are all, after all, just people. I always find lots of people who speak English (again, except in Bulgaria). But even in Bulgaria I found a few. English is the lingua-franca of the world. It is the international language, the language of computers. Young people study it in school and it's impossible to work in tourism/business without any English. In big cities you're more likely to find indifference, be that New York or Sophia. It's the nature of cities - they isolate us from each other. Istanbul was unique in that regard, but I stayed mostly in the tourist section and the city is a tourist city like none other.

When traveling and staying in hostels, as you know, you meet many other travelers. Even in homestays they often host more than one person at a time. Other travelers are your best source of information - they've been there, done that - and they can tell you where and where not to go. Some online sources that I use are www.lonelyplanet.com, mostly the thorntree forum. When you go to the website, click on "community" at the top. That's a pulldown menu and select "Thorntree Forum." You will need to sign up as a member in order to post questions and comments yourself, but you can read through the forum without signing up. This forum is like a great big world-wide hostel. People from all over the world meet and share their experiences here. People just like you and me. If you're going to Podunk and want to know if there are any homestays there, or what it's like, just ask. Someone will know. It's a fantastic source of "on the ground" information. Never, let me repeat that, NEVER go to the US State Department's website to find out information about a country. A second good source of information online is the UNESCO World Heritage center: whc.unesco.org. They list all the World Heritage sites, places that are somewhat protected. If you search for Macedonia, by the way, their "political" name is "The Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia." Archeologists here are currently unearthing perhaps the oldest known university in the western world right now, not to mention the churches and monasteries throughout Macedonia.

I absolutely plan to return to this region and travel/volunteer more. I have only scratched the surface. I feel like I'm only floating past in a glass-bottomed boat, looking through at a rich, deep culture and history that I simply cannot penetrate and can only view fleetingly. My formal education and my life have not prepared me for what I have found here. I literally have no background, no network of information to connect all that I'm seeing, experiencing and learning.

I can't think of anything else to say in the moment. Except (I always have at least ONE more thing to say :o) - Don't be afraid. It only seems scary when you haven't done it. Once you step out there on your own you find out that the world's not a scary place at all. My first experience with solo travel was in Guatemala 4 years ago. I established a connection with a library initiative there, then they set me up with a homestay and language tutor. All very cheap. I volunteered at the library and stayed in that little town (near Tikal, in northern Guatemala) for 3 weeks. Before going there I spent a few days in Antigua to get my feet on the ground, as it's a tourist city with a lot of other travelers. After the 3-week homestay I traveled for 2 weeks throughout Guatemala, even spent 3 days with a family in a very remote Mayan village (that required a guide and pre-arrangement). My second solo was throughout Central America and into Mexico 3 years ago (where I met Jerry). Even after those experiences and after living in Armenia for nearly a year, I was still nervous about traveling throughout this region on my own. I was concerned that the language barrier would be too challenging. But that has not been the case at all.

This is the best way to travel. It's cheap, it's environmentally friendly, it's people friendly, it's rich, it helps local people and local economies, it's fun. When I am alone I reach out to others, I trust in ways I never knew I could.

The morning is calling so I must go see what it has in store for me. It rained on and off all day yesterday. There's still one monastery nearby that I haven't seen yet but if the rain continues into the next few days as it's predicted then I won't be able to visit it anyway so I may as well continue on. However, as my host Goce said, it will be like going to Paris and not seeing the Eifel Tower. I've seen pictures of this place, St Naum, and it is magnificent. So . . . . . I really hope the weather is good. If not, I'll be back. It will remain the bait, tempting me back. ~


--
"Life is either a daring adventure or nothing. Security does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than exposure." Helen Keller

Money

It's crazy dealing with all this different money. $1=@50 dinar. I got $80 out of the bank today. That's nearly 4,000 dinar! Imagine going around with $5,000 in your pocket. They have 10, 20, 50, and 100, 500, and 1,000 denominations. But no one can ever cash the 500 or 1,000 ones so you have to carry all bills 100 and under. It feels like $5,000 to me but in fact the 100dn is only $1.50. I went out to dinner tonight. It was 380dn. I left a 60dn tip. It felt so weird, like I was leaving him $60 but it was only a little more than $1.

Then I have euros in my pocket too because now that I've reached Macedonia I can start using euros. I hope to switch entirely to euros soon. I don't know what Albania will do - I'll probably have to continue using both euros and local currency for awhile. Small stores will only take local cash though you can pay for larger items with euros.

Last few days in Turkey

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Back street in Safranbolu

I'm feeling homesick today. I'm getting this feeling from time to time lately. This is a good thing. I don't miss my country or the mountains or my hometown today. (I missed the mountains immensely when I was in Armenia.) But I miss people. I miss my grandchildren, my children, my friends, my cat. I miss long talks with Michelle, when we discuss everything from the meaning of life to the meaning of life. I miss laughing until I cry with Sarina. I miss Catherine's great hugs and vibrant spirit beside me. I miss David's sweet smile and gentle humor. I miss my friends and our long talks and long walks.

I'm not ready to settle down yet though. That worries me a bit. But not too much. :o). I wonder sometimes if I'll ever overcome this restlessness. Even to stay 3 days in one place feels so long. What will it be like when I settle down permanently – whatever that means. I've traveled enough now that everything feels "normal" to me. I've seen enough different toilets, sleeping arrangements, foods, faces, landscapes, cities so that it all feels like home anymore. It's interesting. I feel more like a world citizen. That's a good feeling. It feels broader, more connected to all people. But in a way it's a sad feeling. I feel as if I have no small spot on the land that I'm really connected to. For all of my life I've felt so connected to Colorado and longed for a broader connection. Now that I have that broader connection . . . . where to anchor my little ship, this body of mine . . . .

Yoruk, small village near Safranbolu

Today will be a quiet day. Safranbolu is a small town, very easily explored in two days. I walked all around it twice yesterday, as well as taking a taxi ride to the neighboring village and walking around there. But there are houses and a museum to see here so my day will fill. There's a park at the top of a hill overlooking town. I'll take my lunch and hike up there then perhaps will walk farther afield.

Safranbolu

Thursday, May 6, 2010
I've stayed in Turkey a few days too long. Or not. Had I left after only one week I would have longed to come back. Now, I feel fulfilled. Turkey is very touristic. Safranbolu is a lovely little tourist town, similar to Estes Park in Colorado. There are a half-dozen old Ottoman houses that have been restored as museums (some decorated with furniture from the 1950s). There's a restaurant on every corner, though I never ate out as the home where I stayed provided wonderful home cooked meals. Oh, so wonderful!

The cobbled streets are lined with nic-nac-stuff shops. There are dozens of shops selling scarves, wooden toys, and the delicious trademark of Safranbolu, Turkish Delight. The salespeople are lack-luster today though. I walk past a shop and catch the seller's eye and she waves her hand wanly in the direction of her shop. Having been in the craft business myself I understand. When sales are dead it's hard to have enthusiasm for the random person strolling past.

Yoruk, May 5

A bus-load of tourists arrived yesterday. They filled the immediate space wherever they were walking but for the most part the streets remained delightfully quiet. I can imagine that it becomes quite bustling at times though. There's a large open square in the middle of town which would be ideal for open-air markets. Several restaurants have places for musicians. But today . . . we're taking the idea of sleepy little town to the next level.

Tomorrow I'll catch the big bus to Istanbul. I'm looking forward to the hustle and bustle of the city after all. Another traveler told me about the land walls that surrounds the city, the last remains of the city's Byzantine past. "Pierced by monumental gates and strengthened by towers, they encompass the city center in a great arc, stretching all the way from … the Sea of Marmara to … the Golden Horn. On the Golden Horn end, the most outstanding sight is the Church of St Saviour in Chora, with beautifully preserved mosaics and frescoes. On the Sea of Marmara, four miles away, is the Fortress of Seven Towers - Yedikule Hisari." Another writer notes that the Fortress is notorious as a place of torture and execution. "Out of favour diplomats and disliked family members of the Sultan were incarcerated here, often with grizzly results." (www.travbuddy.com/Fortress-of-Seven-Towers-v385546) Sounds like a fun place! I shall try to wend my way there by city bus, though I doubt I'll be able to explore the entire stretch.

Added Jan 17, 2011:
I visited the Fortress with a few other tourists. We also drew Ugur along with us for a day on the town. It was here that the men decided they should climb up on the Fortress wall and walk across. This however is looked down upon by the local police and a scolding ensued.

Climbing the wall. Two up, one to go!

Checking IDs

Even innocent bystanders got checked out

All ended well and we continued on our merry way, unscathed but humbled . . . .

Safranbolu

I found Safranbolu quite by accident. I wanted to meet Kitty and Claudia in Istanbul on Friday and I needed to find a place to stay for the 3-4 intervening days. So I picked up the Turkey Guide at the hostel and looked at the map for towns between Cappadocia and Istanbul. Someone had previously circled Safranbolu, so I read:
"During the 17th century, the main Ottoman trade route between Gerede and the Black Sea coast passed through Safranbolu, bringing commerce, prominence and money to the town. During the 18th and 19th centuries Safranbolu's wealthy inhabitants built mansions of sun-dried mud-bricks, wood and stucco, while the larger population of prosperous artisans built less impressive but similarly sturdy homes. Safranbolu owes its fame to the large numbers of these dwellings that have survived.
"The most prosperous Safranbolulus maintained two households. In winter they occupied town houses in the Carsi (Market) district, which is situated at the meeting point of three valleys and so protected from the winter winds. During the warm months they moved to summer houses in the garden suburb of Baglar (Vineyards). When the iron and steelworks at Karabuk were established in 1938, modern factory houses started to encroach on Baglar, but Carsi has remained virtually untouched. During the 19th century about 20% of Safranbolu's inhabitants were Ottoman Greeks, but most of their descendants moved to Greece during the population exchange after WWI."

I looked at pictures on the internet and was convinced. I booked the $28 bus trip from Cappadocia to Safranbolu for Monday. The 8 ½ hour ride took me mostly through open plains and farmlands, past numerous small towns with red tile-roofed houses tucked against hillsides or among green pastures. For nearly an hour we rode along the shore a great salt lake, the white shore on the far side looking more like a long, thin white cloud floating above it than land. In the last two hours the land began to undulate, mountains slowly appearing out of plains, forests replacing fields. At last we dipped and turned into a valley. We left the bus and entered a private van. The pavement soon disappeared and was replaced by cobbled roads as we curved 'round and down. The 21st century faded behind us and we entered an old world.

No matter that I had read, "Just walking through Carsi is a feast for the eyes. . . Safranbolu is universally acknowledged to contain the country's single finest collection of pre-independence domestic architecture." I still was not prepared for the feast. Walking Safranbolu's narrow cobbled streets is a walk through the 17th century. Women in colorful head scarves sit chatting on stools and doing handwork outside their picturesque homes; men and women sell their goods from small shops in the old caravanserai, the walkway covered by tarps tied up and across and meeting each other in the middle. Even the one internet shop doesn't disturb the sense of timelessness here. No flashing lights advertising "Internet". Instead, a wooden sign blends into the building's exterior and states quietly "Pasa Internet."

Rather than re-creating the wheel to describe the house I'm staying in, I'll once again quote from the guidebook: "Ottoman wooden houses generally had two or three storeys, the upper storeys jutting out over the lower ones on carved corbels (brackets). Their timber frames were filled with adobe and then plastered with a mixture of mud and straw. Sometimes the houses were left unsealed, but in towns they were usually given a finish of plaster or whitewash, with decorative flourishes in plaster or wood. The wealthier the owner, the fancier the decoration.
"Inside, the larger houses had 10-12 rooms, divided into selamik (men's quarters) and haremlik (women's quarters). Rooms were often decorated with built-in niches and cupboards, and had fine plaster fireplaces with yasmaks (conical hoods). Sometimes the ceilings were very elaborate; that of the Pasa Odasi of Tokat's Latifoglu Konagi, for example, is thought to emulate a chandelier in wood.
"Details to look out for inside the Safranbolu houses include their hayats (courtyard areas where the animals lived and tools were stored); ingenious donme dolaplar (revolving cupboards that made it possible to prepare food in one room and pass it to another without being seen); bathrooms hidden inside cupboards; and central heating systems that relied on huge fireplaces. Sedirs (bench seating that ran round the walls) [where I'm sitting as I type] doubled as beds, with the bedding being stored in the bathrooms, which converted neatly into cupboards during the day."

On the bus to Safranbolu, I sit beside a 24-year-old Turkish woman, a nurse heading home to Kurbuk to visit her family for a week. She speaks halting English and wants to share some of her country's history and culture with me. As is often the case, politics comes up. "Do you like George Bush?" she asks – a common question. "No," I answer. "The Turkish people do not do wars," she tells me, and I reflect on what she is saying. Indeed, the US has troops stationed all over the world, continues to support covert military action and has two on-going active wars, while the Turks have none. "We cry for the Iraqi people and their suffering," she tells me. I assure her that I, too, cry for the Iraqi people, that I don't want war, that the US government does not represent my beliefs nor that of many US citizens, but that we are unable to stop the government. She understands: governments do not always express the will of the people. Though she may be a bit deluded about the extent of her own government's policies – perhaps she has been told a different story than I have been told about the Armenians, the Greeks, the Kurds – I do believe that she and other average Turks share my love for peace in the world. "Read the Koran," she tell me. "You will see that Islam is about loving others. Each day I thank God 5 times a day." Her words confirm my experiences here: over and again I am greeted by warmth, generosity, kindness and friendship.

Turkey has far exceeded my expectations in every way imaginable: the breath-taking landscapes, the fascinating history that is also my history, and the warmth and friendliness of the people who live here.

Wednesday, May 4, 2010 - Today I took a shared taxi with Etty and Sammy (from Minnesota) to the

nearby village of Yoruk Kuyu (Nomad Village). According to the Lonely Planet blip: "[It's] a beautiful settlement of crumbling old houses once inhabited by the dervish Bektasi sect. The government forced the nomads to settle here so it could tax them, and the villagers grew rich from their baking prowess." It truly was a beautiful old settlement. We walked through the village – we were the only tourists there and only some 30 people live there now - and toured an old Ottoman house. The woman who gave us the tour spoke only Turkish. She was so animated in her presentation that life in the households during Ottoman times came alive for us. We could almost see the women hiding behind the wooden wall by the door, placed so that the men could not see them when they came to the door for some reason. She lifted my foot to the stone wash basin to demonstrate the foot-washing technique and took us into the circular cushioned room where the women would do namas and were shown how one wall had a small niche cut in it to indicate the direction of mecca.