"The People Who Go"

A sample quote

from the public literature project

"Those Who Go"

 

My Danish friend Michael, who took me on my very first outing as an expat in the Czech Republic, introduced me to all of his fellow expat friends by saying "you know how there are people who stay and there are people who go? These are the people who go."

I was delighted to learn there is a wonderful contemplative public literature project with nearly the exact same name currently showing in the beautifully designed Denver International Airport. It is entitled simply "Those Who Go."

The artist honors "those who go" by assembling great quotes on travelers and traveling to inspire them as they move through the airport. Even better, an entire library of books devoted to traveling are available free through the project website and free airport wifi for downloading.

The creator of the exhibit says:

"As far as I know, there are four ways to travel:

• in Space

• in Time

• in the Mind

• and in one's own Self.

This small collection of books includes great travels and travelers from all four dimensions a human being can go. They are meant for you to share and explore. You can download them directly from the link at the airport or from this site, and may they inspire and delight you wherever you are."

What a creative way to share great books and to create a reading culture around and in celebration of one of humanity's greatest activities. What a wonderful reminder that being a 'person who stays' doesn't mean you can't be a person who goes...off in time...in the mind...or in one's own self. Which free book will you download?

Special thanks to friend Suzanne LaRue who told me about the exhibit.

You might enjoy some of my other posts on travel books and media:

Hello, Great Big Beautiful World!
(the very first post I wrote - it shows the power of a book to make one travel!)

Vagabonding

Armchair Traveling with Tony

Armchair Traveling with Rick

"I am Listening to Istanbul"

"I am Listening to Istanbul"

by Orhan Veli Kanik

I had a young Turkish teenage friend who was supposed to be learning English from me, but he was just as much the teacher, as he delighted in bringing me weekly linguistic treasure from his culture. We fell into the habit of each bringing each other one masterpiece from our native language every week. Of course, while his authors were Turkish, I had to read his offerings in English.

If you want to deepen your love of your own culture and language, try to narrow down your favorite creations to one masterpiece a week. It's hard! I shared Rudyard Kipling's poem "If" and my young friend said "If -- playing on the title -- If -- you believe there are men like that, you'll be single forever!" I had to laugh.

Then I shared another favorite: Teddy Roosevelt's "In the Arena." He liked that one. And yet another wonderful poem to share was "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost because my friend felt such delight when he instantly understood the metaphor at the end. "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley with its famous last two lines, and "Ozymandias" with its sly message against pride were hits. It was especially fun for me to pull out as many inspiring masculine poems as I could find and still I hadn't even yet cracked open the poetry books of Robert Service or shared Jack London's short story "To Build a Fire." 

One masterpiece he shared with me from Turkish culture was the poem by Orhan Veli Kanik, "I am listening to Istanbul." My young friend read it to me in English. Now I think I know enough of the original language, I am going to try and learn it in Turkish. Maybe there are other poems I should try. Is there a more beautiful context for learning language?

"I have come to love English." my student said at the end of our time together. We ran out of weeks before I ran out of masterpieces.

The time we get to share with someone is so short, whomever it may be. I am so grateful for that experience.

Whom are you sharing with that brings you joy? Be grateful to share this moment. Appreciate it with enthusiasm, even if only to yourself.

The Best War Expansion Prevention Protection Ever

 

The logo selected

"by the people"

to represent Istanbul's candidacy

for the 2020 Olympic Games

 

Istanbul recently hosted a visit from the International Olympic Committee. The visit went splendidly, according to the local papers. I'm so glad to hear Istanbul has a real chance for the games.

It occurred to me that Turkey's bid to get the Olympics Game is the perfect war expansion prevention protection. America plunged Istanbul's tourism into a double digit dive when we invaded Iraq because people thought Istanbul must be close enough to Iraq not to be safe. Wrong. Iraq is more than a day's drive away. Surely, America would be more sensitive this time around to the economic needs of their friends?

This is Turkey's 5th time applying for the Games. They have worked very hard for this and put up the budgets to deliver the Olympics for their people. Having the Olympics here would be a wonderful way to usher in their celebrations around the 100-year anniversary of their democracy.

All of my Turkish friends say that if America were to intervene in Syria, it would be World War III. As my nation's history in Iraq and Vietnam demonstrate, the American government's nature is intervention in other people's business.

Wouldn't it be hard for Turkey to sell their country as the safe place for the Olympic Games if the Americans were starting WWIII next door?

I've never been so grateful for athletic competition.

'Backwards Day' in Istanbul: a news junkie's paradise

I have a Kurdish friend, now of European citizenship, who says, "when I lived in Germany, I tried to be interested in everything happening there but it was all so boring. It just wasn't engaging." Having lived in Istanbul for a couple years now, I completely understand.

The Levantine area is a news junkie paradise. There is more absolutely fascinating news happening in any one week here, than in a year somewhere else. This last week had to be THE MOST fascinating week since I first came here in 2010.

Indeed, it felt like an event teenagers often create called "Backwards Day." The teens do everything backwards for one day from wearing their clothes backward to saying the opposite of what they usually do. The news that happened last week was so unexpected and so "backwards" of what one normally hears and it all happened in the same week!

An Israeli apology

The Mavi Marmara

Israel's Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu apologized to Turkey's Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan for the Mavi Marmara incident. As an American citizen, I frequently feel that if a US citizen ever has an opinion that is contrary to the Israeli point-of-view and they publically express that view, they will be bullied into silence. The American media never has an honest dialogue about Israel and it rarely explains to Americans that Israelis are settling on land that belongs to someone else in violation of international law.

So when Israeli military forces boarded the Mavi Marmara and shot Americans and Turks at close range, killing nine of them, Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan demanded an apology.

An apology never seemed like an unreasonable request. Erdoğan's been demanding an apology for three years. He sought justice for the Americans and Turks killed much more vocally than my own government did.

This week, Erdoğan got that apology when Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu called him up and expressed regret. Apologies are so powerful! It was like hearing Netanyahu and his nation say "we accept responsibility for this. We were wrong." It was the exact opposite of what a bully would do.

Backwards Day.

The PKK declares a cease-fire

The PKK, declared a terrorist group by both the Turkish and American governments, declared a cease-fire with the Turkish State. This opinion piece from Friday, March 23rd,  "Hurriety Daily News" explains just how different this is than the normal course of events in Turkey.

Backwards Day.

The Patriarch of the Orthodox Church attends the Ordination of the New Pope

When something happens for the first time in 959 years, that's amazing. Such was the excitement with the Istanbul-based Patriarch of the Orthodox Church was welcomed so warmly by the new Pope Francis when Barthalomew went to the ordination. Just even the idea being expressed that various strands of the Christian Church could be reunited is fascinating. Also worthy of note, Turkish newspapers expressed not one iota of anxiety over this. In America, if there was specualtions about Sunnis and Shia reuniting in some future generation, it would send Islamaphobia anxiety into overdrive.

Backwards Day.

Cyprus Decides to Give Bank Depositors a Hair Cut

The Flag of Cyprus

Holy Cow, what a fascinating story. It was incredible to watch it unfold and of course, it's still unfolding. If you need any proof that one should never trust a government that says "your deposits are insured" this is the story. The depositors in Cyprus banks, who had thought their deposits were insured up to 100,000 Euros, were told instead that there would be a tax on all deposits held in Cypriot banks because of all the bad loans these banks made to Greece. The depositors didn't make those choices, the bank's owners did!

As Planet Money put it, "it is like your car insurance company, like Allstate, running up to your Suburu, smashing the window, and stealing your stereo."

The odd place this put this Cypriots with their money is beautifully summarized here.

The EU was supposed to make the Cypriots feel safer.

Backwards Day.

Does this mean I want drama in my own domestic news? It does not.

I agree with Rolling Stone Magazine writer Matt Taibbi (who is so eloquent on all things financial-crisis related) who wrote this about the American budget sequestration:  "The whole situation reminds one of a family so dysfunctional that its members can't communicate except through desperate acts."

 I want my domestic news to be boring. That means there are adults in the room, taking care of business, and the citizens can spend their time creating, discovering, and solving problems in a way that moves the economy forward and not worrying about stuff like whether or not their money is safe in a bank.

In case anyone hasn't noticed, those Germans with their boring news, are kicking everyone's butt economically.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        

Turkish baklava, the male kind

Like the box says:

Turkish baklava

One day, my Turkish teacher explained to our class that if a man had a beer belly, it was affectionately nicknamed "Turkish muscle" or "Turkish balcony."

 

Later, she told my class that if a man had a prominent six-pack on his abdomen, it was "Turkish baklava." I didn't quite get the metaphor until I say this photo. I can just imagine all of the movie scenes: "would you like to come back to my place for some baklava?"

Turks and their Hammams - a couple stories of how they use them

Recently, I enjoyed my first Istanbul hammam at Çirağan Palace Kempinski, the famous Ottoman Imperial Palace hotel on the Bosphorus, which I described in the following two blog posts: part one and part two.

The aesthetic beauty of a hammam space

 is part of the attraction.

Zeynep, the Sanitas spa manager at Çirağan Palace Kempinski, credited the Romans with the development of public baths; she said the Ottomans simply absorbed and carried on this tradition. If so, the Ottomans perfected it, because the experience is worthy of becoming globally famous. Since the advent of water in every home though, hammam culture is threatened as Turks no longer need to use it as their bath. Instead, they treat it as a quarterly or semi-annual treat.

It's interesting to me how differently some Westerners view a hammam than most native Turks. A Westerner tends to appreciate the skin exfoliation AND the extended massage that happens afterwards. The last thing I want to do in a hammam is talk to anybody. To me the whole point is to zone out in solitary bliss.

Tools of the hammam: soap, peştamal,

kese (the scrubbing mitt),
and a  tas (water basin for rinsing).

According to Zeynep, local customers don't see it that way though. Turkish customers view the skin scrubbing as the point of the hammam and all of the extra massage features as superfluous. Çirağan Palace Kempinski Hotel's spa offers a 40 minute skin scrubbing as an entry service, because for many Turks maintaining healthy, glowing skin is what they want and expect from their hammam. It is the tourists who sign up for the 55 minute and 80 minute experiences that include massage.

The Turkish bathing tradition includes running water,

not the Western tradition of sitting in still water
contained in a bathtub.

In Ottoman times, women would gather in the hammam as one of the few places out of the home where they could spend time together. They could be there all day, eating, enjoying their friends, socializing and gossiping. Mothers of sons, would often suggest a potential bride for their sons based on their observations in the hammam. That sounds a bit creepy, but mostly these mothers were checking to make sure a potential bride was a healthy woman.

A traditional hammam bowl

for pouring water over a bather

Zeynep remembered going to the hammam with her grandmother and socializing with family and friends. They would bring in food and enjoy an extended period of relaxing after the heat and water and conversation. She also described a wonderful tradition where the bride is taken to the hammam with her female family and friends to prepare for her wedding. Her hammam is completed with a henna party where beautiful designs are drawn on her hand in henna ink for her wedding day.

One of my teenage Turkish friends described the perfection of his weeklong hammam experience with friends at basketball camp. He said "everyday at basketball camp we would play two basketball games. At night our team would go to the hammam and relax. One friend brought his guitar and he would play it as we all sat around, and relaxed and discussed how we did that day in the games. We'd bring in food and eat there. Imagine one whole week of getting to do what you love all day [play basketball], going to the hammam at night to hang out with your friends, and no parents to ask you to do this or do that. It was very, very nice."

Listening to him, I really appreciated the wholesomeness of the hammam experience. His North American teenage counterpart might be likely to go drinking at basketball camp once evening came. While I'll stick to hammam service my way, zoning out in solitary joy, I admired the wholesome way Turks used hammams to make the most of the moment, enjoy each other's company, using time together to do something physically healthy.

The heated marble slab in the center

is where a hammam visitor

is scrubbed and washed

It will take both the Turk and the Westerner to preserve hammam culture.  If you come to Turkey, and choose to experience a hammam yourself, you are truly giving back to your hosts by helping them preserve a beautiful intangible cultural heritage.

In case you missed them:

My first Hammam in Istanbul at the Çirağan Palace Kempinski Hotel, Part One

Part Two of My First Istanbul Hammam Adventure at Çirağan Palace Kempinski Hotel

Photos courtesy of Çirağan Palace Kempinski Hotel and Sanitas Spa

Part Two of My First Istanbul Hammam Adventure at Çirağan Palace Kempinski Hotel

The hammam at Cirağan Palace Kempinski

There are some discoveries in Turkey that are so delightful, they bring the immediate thought, “why aren’t these global? Why doesn’t every country have these? The Ottoman Hammam, or traditional public bath, is one such Turkish cultural institution. Anywhere the Ottoman Empire conquered and ruled, hammams and hammam culture remain.



Cirağan Palace Kempinski

I had come to the famous luxury hotel Cirağan Palace Kempinski to experience my first Istanbul hammam courtesy of the hotel. I entered the Cirağan Palace spa on the lower level and enjoyed the beautiful Indonesian statuary everywhere. At first it seemed so incongruous with Turkish hammam, but I learned later that due to the international nature of  Cirağan Palace hotel, many kinds of massage were offered, including Balinese massage. Indeed, just as there were Turkish hammam specialists in the spa, the hotel also had Balinese masseuse staff available for an Indonesian-style massage if that is what guests want.

The spa lobby itself was small yet very inviting. I could see beyond the room through a window to the very well-appointed fitness room which had every piece of equipment someone would need for a great workout. On the coffee table, a tray with pitcher of refreshing water garnished with orange slices awaited spa visitors. Gülay, the receptionist, knowing the unfamiliarity of North Americans with hammams, came from behind the desk and walked me through step-by-step what would happen during my visit.


A Turkish peştamal

Knowing that some visitors could be uncomfortable with nudity, Gülay pointed out there was disposable underwear provided in each locker to wear along with the abundant piece of cloth called a peştamal that hammam visitors strategically use to cover themselves as they move through the process. Peştamals are thin pieces of Turkish cloth specifically designed for the Turkish hammam experience. They are large enough to cover someone's entire body; they don't get heavy when wet and they also dry quickly.

I entered the luxurious locker room and changed into the big white fluffy bath robe provided and took my pestamel. I love these grand hotel locker rooms because, like every part of the hotel, every possible need a human could have had been anticipated. Did you need to sqeeze the water out of your swimming suit? There was a machine for that. Weigh yourself? There was a medical-quality scale. Do you hair? Every possible hair product was there waiting: combs, hair spray, blow dryers, etc. Every possible tooth care product was waiting too: toothpaste, brushes, floss.

Hamam visitors have a choice of prepping their skin in either the steam room or the sauna before going into the hammam. I chose the steam room. Sri, one of the Balinese masseuses dressed in a beautiful Indonesian dress, instructed me to take off my rings and slip them into my bathrobe pocket before I entered. The ultimate luxury provided was trust. I knew I could do that and they'd be there when I got back.

Those five minutes in the steam room help soften the skin for a scrubbing, yet they are pleasurable anyway because of the slowness of the experience. There is deep silence, semi-darkness, and the luxuriousness or warm marble with intense heat and intense steam. Do we have enough moments like that in life - where our only job is to slow down, take deep breathes, and do absolutely nothing but concentrate on restoring ourselves. I felt gratitude for the moment.

Sri came to get me all too soon and introduced me to Gül, my Turkish hammam specialist. Gül was wearing white shorts and a white swimsuit top. During the next hour she would be working very hard in a very warm room so this attire made complete sense. I was immediately comfortable with her. I entered the all marble hammam and took in the beauty of the marble fountains in the side walls, the large marble slap in the center of the room for hammam guests, and the heat.


Gül asked me if I wanted a soft, medium, or hard scrubbing. I chose hard, although it didn't feel hard. It felt just right.  Using a special bath mitt, Gül proceeded to slough off my winter skin. I felt like a baby kitten! It was fantastic and I knew my face and body would have a new rosy glow when she was done. My relaxation deepened.

Next came a foam massage, unlike any massage I've experienced anywhere in the world. A giant sleeve of effervescent foam is squeezed out along the length of the body and accompanied by a rush of  warm water to make a magnificent sensory experience. With the warmth from the foam and the water still present, the therapist slowly massages aromatic jasmine oil into the skin, starting at the feet.

I almost started to doze off as my relaxation could not get any deeper. I was so content and in such a wonderful meditative, joyful state, I hardly noticed when the spa music started to taper off and the room became completely silent. I waited for the next record to start.

A complete surprise! Completely unexpected by me, Gül, my therapist, started to sing a long, slow Turkish ballad. This is what it must have really felt like to be the Sultan, to not only enjoy the physical sensations of the hammam, but to also have a beautiful female voice singing out and silencing all thought with beauty! She sang a beautiful Turkish song called Berivan.

Later, Gül lead me out of the hammam to a sitting area to rest and recover. She gestured with her hand that the sultan's divan before me was where I should rest. I marveled to myself at the perfection of the experience. While I sat there drinking my tea, I understood instantly that the story of Hürrem, Sultan Suleyman's slave who was so inspiring she became his wife, was the Turkish equivalent of the fairy tale Cinderella. I had just received treatment worthy of the best Cinderella tale every written.

I was filled with contentment and expressed to Gül just how beautiful I found her singing and my hammam experience. "Actually, my song is my gift to you. I don't do it in every hammam, the energy has to be right. For example, if a male guest says, 'I don't want to use my peştamal, I want to take it off, the energy becomes wrong and I don't sing. But your energy was fantastic." I'm so glad!

Later, I was explaining to a friend that everyone thinks of soldiers as the great patriots, but truly, Gül, my Turkish hammam specialist, is for me, a true Turkish patriot. In one hour, she communicates and transmits one of the most beautiful aspects of Turkish culture to visitors and sends folks raving about the glories of Turkey all over the world when they get back home.

In case you missed part one of this adventure:

My first Hammam in Istanbul at the Cirağan Palace Kempinski Hotel, Part One

and if you're interested in reading Turks and their Hammams: a couple of stories of how they use them

Hammam photos courtesy of Cirağan Palace Kempinski
Peştamal photo courtesy of callixto.com

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