It takes a while...

It's been a while since I've written, and you get a gift of rambling thought.


I've been back in my home town of Boston for about half a year. It's been amazingly strange since I've come back. Shucked are the ways I use to do some things, but you inevitable sink back into other habits. Some good, some bad.

So, what has taken me so long to actually post anything? Part of it was that I found myself "busy." At least, busy enough to not finish a new post. Why now? I'm not entirely sure.

I think I've found new motivation behind writing. I've done a lot of thinking that I wasn't able to do since the ongoing turbulence that started when I decided to travel. What is definitely known, is what prevented me from writing.

On more than one occasion, I started to write about the next place I had traveled to, Israel. For many reasons I couldn't find a way to summarize my thoughts. I was conflicted by a lot of things I saw and experienced. Certainly more so since conflict broke out mere weeks after returning. Culturally driven violence that just escalated. In an awful way. What made it even harder to write was how much of it refracted and reflected the same issues we see here, in the States. Only more extreme.

Don't get me wrong. It's one of the most beautiful places I've been to. But the seething undercurrent of anxiety, and seeing militarized teenagers is sad. It got to me.

You see so many groups of people - loosely defined by culture - happy to value their lives over someone else's. There are misconceptions, prejudice, ambivalence, complacency, and, of all things, a sense of justification. Yes, bad people have done bad things on both sides of any conflict, really. Vengeance and violence are fairly natural reactions for losing something you hold dear, be it a possession, an ideal, or just innocence, but the retaliatory, angered escalation is what is saddening.

What's worse is you apply it to any of the headlines in the news lately. It's not a matter of country or religion. It's human nature, and it's amplified when the worst of our fears control our actions.

I stepped away to think very existentially for a period of time. Whats the point of being here? Why does any of it matter? The only conclusion I came to was there is as much a point in doing something, as there is in doing nothing. Does my output as a human being actually lead to anything greater? Ever? Not really, and certainly less so if you put your faith solely in science.

But...

My actions, my behaviors can do so much to escalate that of another. You - all of you - are in some part aiding astronauts be astronauts, and politicians be politicians, and religious leaders be religious leaders, and mothers be mothers. You are measured against nothing, unless you are measured by the people around you. For that, your life is the sum of your actions and their impact on that around you. If the sum of your output falls on the side of making someones life worse, well then, you're doing it wrong. Intentionally or unintentionally, you have added nothing to your legacy. You left what little of there is worse than it was before you were here.

So, to all of those willing to go to war on behalf of some ideal, and willing to leave a path of destroyed, marginalized, or disenfranchised in your wake, then you have managed to be as bad as the thing you have gone to war with.

To those that have lived to elevate those around you, you have made this world great, and worth pushing to make better.

I'm Goreme to Kapadokya

A intense sun welcomes the day, showering light across a strange plateau. Below is a valley of ethereal structures, peculiar in shape and function, still hiding from the morning. The sun bathes a couple of hundred hot air balloons in strawberry and tangerine colors. Each balloon filled with a handful of tourists attempting to get the best seat in the house. Their purpose? To capture this dazzling scene sitting in front of me. As the sun begins to peer into the valley, the first conical rock structure, or fairy chimney as the locals call it, begins to illuminate. Its pristine sandy brown sides washed in the early light. Soon the valley is glowing in the morning rays, presenting the magic that brings thousands of visitors a year to this part of Turkey.

Cappadocia (Kapadokya) is a fascinating middle region of Turkey. It teeters precariously close to the arid region of the middle east and its weather is quick to remind you of this. In May, the sun is intense during the day. The night time temperatures drop to barely tolerable without a jacket. Its land is a close approximation to the canyons of the American West, except for the odd landscape that defines this region.

The off-white sand that covers the area is not actually sand. The whole region has been in a millennia bout of volcanic activity. In the ancient past, a whole time period was punctuated by thousands of years of volcanic ash raining down into this valley. As the water came, the soft ash layers quickly eroded away. The rivers created the valleys. The rains carved away the rock to create the iconic fairy chimneys. The softness of the stone still remains. Heavy rains that mark the change in seasons take the stone back a few millimeters. This life cycle is both redefining the region and erasing its history, little by little.

During the 300s, Christianity was spreading by way of the silk road. It was not freely practiced, and therefore confined to underground worship. Cappadocia offered an easily sculpted hideaway for the new religion's practice, following the building habits of ancient people before them. In the Ihlara Valley, an ancient river has cut a swath of fertile land, with its own, more temperate, climate. It's last residents were the Christians still hiding from the Empires that persecuted them. Within the steep canyon walls, pocked with deliberate holes and tunnels, is a secret city of Ancient Christianity. Most now exposed from sheering cliff faces that failed to resist erosion of water.

It's not just the Ilhara Valley that hides these deteriorating windows to the past. This is what defines Cappadocia. The land is filled with underground cities, carved mountains, painted caves. Those fairy chimneys? Most were at one point carved into to create villages and homes. Some clusters are the remains of villages and towns.

To those with a sense of exploration outside of guided tours, the land offers amazement. The valleys are lightly protected and free to explore. Its canyon diving. It's history exploration. Its one of those rare facets of ancient history that hangs on a precipice of swift destruction as time ages the land. An experience that everyone should live. An experience that is quickly crumbing away.

Return to Sender

Hello to all the readers who have been following this blog. I just got home from my four month trip and have a lot more stories to tell. Because I am no longer traveling, I intend to keep this blog going for any future travels I have, but I also want to move its focus from solely travel to articles and posts that highlight the great things in the world.

The whole point of "one blue marble" is to emphasis the small world we live on. There is so much to see and do, and so much good it has to offer. If I can manage to show people those things through my eyes, then I feel I am paying my small part forward.

I hope you all enjoy it.

I will have the following future posts:
Cappadocia, Turkey
Israel (Tel Aviv, Haifa, Jerusalem, West Bank)
Petra, Jordan
Paris, France
Candies of the World
Lessons learned and tips
Final thoughts on travel

You can expect the same insight and photos as before. I managed to take about 32 gigs worth of photos and plan to continue sharing them.

Please let me know if you want to see me do anything differently as I continue to post.

Take care and enjoy this photo of things to come.

Now it's Istanbul, Not Constantinople

Istanbul has a unique geological situation that makes it stand apart from its neighbors along the Mediterranean. The Bosporus, a river that runs from the Marmara Sea to the Black Sea, is the result of a continental rift that continues to tug Europe from Asia. Istanbul comfortably straddles the two landmasses; happy to let visitors discover the mystique of the East and the philosophies of the West.

This important geography made Istanbul and its neighbor, Izmir, a natural termination point for the fabled Silk Road. Although the road is more of an unkempt trail, it still flaunts its aging visage in memory of its former glory. The Grand Bazaar's walls still ring with crowded voices. The odd tradition of negotiating the price of goods over a sticky sweet apple tea is still honored in all of the stalls. Chai is hurried through crowded alleys to supply the shoppers with a steady flow. A keen eye can still discover rare vintage goods through a brackish sea of cheap Chinese merchandise. Any patient tourist willing to engage in a strategic pricing war can walk away with a bag full of treasure and a belly full of tea.

 
Like many cities in this region of the world, its strategic location has made it the infatuation of many Kingdoms and Emperors. Greeks, Romans, Byzantine, and Ottoman  have left their impressive shambles in layers of the city. With a bit of hardy leg work and a sense of curiosity, visitors can discover the remnants of the East and West's fight for dominance.

No other place exemplifies this more than the Hagia Sofia. Now a museum, it was once a Byzantine church that was converted, top to bottom, to be the mosque of the Ottoman Empire. It now proudly displays the duality of it's and Istanbul's past. Gorgeous golden mosaics, depicting the most important scenes in Christianity are nestled behind ornate Turkish designs and Islamic imagery.

Take a trip to the remaining Byzantine wall. Scale it crumbling stairs and take a look across the city. Fro, the top you can seer Europe and Asia. Multi-spired mosques punctuate the skyline; Churches ring out the hour from quiet alleyways. This is Istanbul, a living monument to the treasures of the East and West.

Walk Like an Egyptian

The city abruptly slinks away, giving birth to the ever encroaching blanket of sand. The sepia painting in front of me shines brightly in the bath of midday sun. Protruding from the middle are ancient skyscrapers. The limestone tops glistening; triangular beacons to any traveler from miles around.

Have you ever dreamed of going to a place so much that the place in your head was nearly tangible? I dreamt of Egypt as a child. A place as mysterious and alien as Mars. I was enamored by its megalithic buildings. Pyramids so precise and mysterious that its still a mystery how they were built. I dreamt of bustling markets, and warm people quick to welcome you and peddle their wares. White stone buildings, palm trees and camels. What can I say? I'm a product of the 80s when Indiana Jones and the 1930s rush of archaeologists was still a romantic adventure I had wholly bought into. I wanted to be an archaeologist and solve ancient riddles.

That was then, when our attention, as a country, was turned to the near east, not the middle of it. As I embarked on my travels, I knew the middle east was a place I had to see (its really north Africa, but its shared culture through the Mesopotamian crescent). Regardless of pleaded warning and vague threats of imagined danger, I booked my tickets. I was hesitant. Everything the media has built up says this is terrible idea, but I rationalized it to see through to achieving my dream. How can 15 million people be living in a place so turbulent that my very presence there puts me in immediate danger?

The gamble paid off. As I crept up on the pyramids, escaping Giza city, the vision in my head became reality. The pyramids peaked between city buildings, trying their best to blend into the city skyline. One it cleared into open, arid plains, the pyramids stood as solitary marvels of human engineering. It was magic.

Cairo is a bit different. The city has been neglected since the rush of travel in the 50s. Cairo is no walk in the park, but the city is comfortable in its peaceful chaos. People walk the street as casually as I stroll down Boston Commons. Markets are lively. The streets are organized madness. People are happy to see you, or any tourism for that matter. Granted, you will feel like a walking wallet, but cut past the salesman routine and people are genuinely kind.

Within its walls is its ancient skeleton. Its echoes of a city rich with history and religious significance. The Coptic city still exists, protected, as a city untouched by time.

Fortunately for me, I had good friends to accompany me through Cairo. I was brought to the Red Sea, where more of Egypt's magic was revealed.

Ultimately, any city is a product of its people. The people I got to spend time with showed me that, at its roots, if you can adjust to Egypt's pace, and way of life, the city is a treasure trove of truly great people, history, and some of the most awe inspiring monuments ever created. Don't miss the opportunity to live your dreams.

London Calling

Its a tale of two empires. The United States and England have a fraternal link. Beyond our brotherly spats and disagreements, the similarities in our cultures provide an eerie reflection of what is and what could be the future of our country.

London is a vast city of neighborhoods grown from the repeated populations booms associated with every new territory the British Empire claimed and rescinded. At its core are triumphant works of Gothic architecture next to modern financial buildings. Its past as an empire and its current financial capitol all woven into its asphalt tapestry. Its a grand statement to all of its achievements.

This is the UK, rebound from its near collapse as an Empire stretched too thin to maintain its hold on the world. Its able to look back at its past and victoriously claim its part in history. Once you look past its gilded buildings, and museums celebrating its place in science, you find the sobering truth to it all.

London is marred with memorials disguised as beauty marks. They are the real reminders of Imperialism and its lust for empire building. Each grave stone is a list of tens of thousands of soldiers who sacrificed themselves, willingly or not, to protect country and a very big crown. Millions of lives robbed of its whole potential to make sure that land far away from the home soil is protected. The city, in all of its glory, is a extravagant, well dressed, jewel encrusted monument to the dead.

Under London's veneer of expensive brands and sports cars is the soul of the city. A huge population of hard working, worldly, well educated immigrants, and locals keeping the city together. Its communities are strong; held together by sporting rivalries and common bonds.

For me, I had never felt so welcomed in a country. Maybe its the common cultural DNA of shared political follies and successes, but there is a definite kinship. The bond, and common language, opened up opportunities I hadn't assumed possible. I shared beers with people I met hours ago. I enjoyed conversations over curry with a group of friends I had just met. I explored parts of east London with accommodating locals that were more than happy to show me their neighborhoods. Tips and suggestions were bountiful. Free rooms were offered by just about every person I met.

London is special, not for the vast power and wealth it managed to squander on more power and more wealth. Its not its vanity or ego, either. What makes London great is its people and community; its generous, embracing, diverse, committed and intelligent people. Something that we need to see and learn from ourselves.