Thanksgiving in London and Speed-Tourism

Well, as it's the best holiday ever invented (in its current evolutionary phase--I entirely agree with anyone who wants to talk about indigenous rights), I wanted to spend Thanksgiving amongst friends. Tell me if you can think of anything bad about feeling thankful, cooking, eating, drinking, friends, family, singing, games, more eating, and napping. Impossible. So with that in mind, I decided to hop the ditch and spend my thanksgiving (yes, I know this blog is hopelessly out of date) with Sarah Galbraith and contingent. Unfortunately the trip was incredibly short, so I decided to make it simple and not try to catch up with all of the other lovely people in London--that will have to wait until May/June when I return next.

On arrival, I couldn't help but sing The Wombles on the train.

And then we were off for my first London pub--and some snooker playing amongst the hippest of hipsters. Wow, there were some great woolen jerseys in that dive.

The next 24 hours were full of Thanksgiving goodness. Markets for fresh ingredients, cooking, organizing the apartment to fit more people than it should . . .

The meal itself was amazing. Turkey, two types of stuffing (one with haggis), mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, apple/blueberry sauce, numerous roast vegetables, various salads, pies and cakes galore. The English contingent pulled out all of the stops. 

The night continued on into singing and music and laughter, until I fell asleep somewhat mid-sentence. Standard.

The next day was absolutely beautiful and sunny, and we went riding our bikes all over, ending up at Derek and Laura's place for pancakes and blueberries. It was awesome to meet Achilles Renoir--what a cool wee man. We also went for a wander in Hampstead Heath, catching up on the last few years of events, and kicking leaves. Unfortunately, I left my camera at home, so you'll have to take me at my word. It was a picture-perfect endorsement for moving to London--hmmm.

My last full day in London was spent attempting to fit in a variety of tourist-centered attractions in a haphazardly browsing fashion. I started out with my atlas and compass in hand, and headed for the South bank of the Thames. I tracked down a Banksy . . . covered in plexiglass it gives food for thought--is this how street art should be treated? On the one hand, it's worth a ton of money intact, and as is can be protected from further tagging and artworks. On the other, the nature of street art is ephemeral and often politically or socially motivated and pertinent to a moment in time, rather than preservation through the ages. Thoughts?

I also saw a series of these characters . . . which I thought were incredibly emotive, encircling a worksite. Looked like they were possibly commissioned.

I then trolled the bridges . . . Tower, London, Southwark, Millenium (which looks fabulously like a spine), Blackfriars, and Waterloo.

I spent several hours at the Tate Modern. As usual, dreaming of all the artworks and projects I could do.

In wandering about London, I was intrigued and excited by the juxtaposition and layering of different epochs and styles of architecture and art. What an interesting city.

With the light fading, I suddenly realised that my version of hitting the tourist spots didn't really fulfill the norm, and that I'd at least like to catch a glimpse of some of the more famous landmarks, so I speed-walked my way about, getting in the new Globe Theatre, Big Ben, The Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace and its famous guards, Trafalgar Square, a double-decker, a red telephone box, and a heartbeat's worth of the British Museum (which only fueled fire to my desire to return). . . all in just a few hours of severe ADHD.

And then I returned to the real-world, the London I was there to see . . . spending another lovely evening with Sarah and Brendan.

In the morning, we frequented the local tea shop--I promise I'll always remember to let you have the front section of the paper first, Brendan. I cede it to you for all eternity.  Look at that look he's giving me--it's just daring me to try for it. Also, the perspective in this shot is a *little* off, but yes, he is an extremely tall, lovable Scotsman, and Sarah is quite the compact model.

Thank you all for a lovely time. And you entirely succeeded in making me think very very seriously about London as a next sedentary location for this wandering minstrel.

Oh the decisions to be made . . .

I want to be an archaeologist: Çatalhöyük

It was time to leave Istanbul, so I took a tram to a ferry to a train, which was to take me all the way across to the middle of the country to a city called Konya, the home of Rumi and the whirling dervishes. Like so many of the other buildings of stature in Istanbul, the train station was beautiful.

As I travelled across the country, miming conversation with two lovely women who clearly wanted to chat, the landscape changed dramatically. Will, I even started to imagine your Lawrence here and there. It was so beautiful, and so vast. In attempting to mime that I was going to a friend's wedding, I think I mistakenly gave the two lovely women the idea that I myself was getting married, as they seemed to get incredibly excited for me. Ah well. Lost in translation as usual.

For the first time that I can remember (I must have done this before somewhere, or sometime?) I dined in the dining car (with the only other foreigners on the train), eating a pretty awful breakfast (except for the tea and the olives, mmm...), but making friends with the wait staff. It was pretty empty, so they were quite bored and kept me company. If there's one thing I have to say about Turkey, it's that the people are lovely. So many moments of connection across cultures and languages.

And that brings me to Konya. As I said above, Konya is most well-known as being the home of Rumi, the 13th century Persian religious philosopher and poet, and the birthplace of the tradition of the whirling dervishes. Unlike Istanbul, it seems it is actually quite hard to see the whirling dervishes here, because the city mostly remains free of tourism. There's a week-long festival held in December, or it seems Saturday nights you may see them, but not on other days in general. I was there on a Thursday, so for me, they remain something of the imagination. Konya is known as one of the most religiously and socially conservative locations in Turkey, however, with a tradition rooted in the teaching's of Rumi, which pushed for personal development and religious devotion, but love and acceptance of all people no matter their personal beliefs, or failings, the people here were the most lovely I met anywhere on my travels.

The whole purpose for traveling to Konya was not to learn about Rumi, however nice a byproduct that was, but to see Çatalhöyük, the archaeological site of one of the world's first semi-planned cities. Çatalhöyük was operational as a city from 7500 BC to 5700 BC. Craziness. The area would have been a really good site for early agricultural practices, allowing the evolution of a city. Archaeologists first worked on this site in the 60s, and then it was reopened for work in the 1990s under the archaeologist, Ian Hodder. One of the interesting things about Çatalhöyük is that there seemed to be no distinction between men and women and their place within society. The early excavations of the site produced a lot of literature that talked about the site as one of a matriarchy, or at the very least one that venerated a mother goddess/Venus figure. Newer excavations have debated that, but regardless of the outcome, it's very interesting to think of these different societies and the places of men and women within them.

I first learned about Çatalhöyük in my archaeology classes at Otago, and it was somewhat of a whim that brought me here. In order to get out to Çatalhöyük from Konya I had to take a taxi, almost an hour away. My taxi driver, Ebrahim, was lovely. Between us he could say "thank you" and I could say the same in Turkish, "Teşekkür" My excuse is that I can no longer add any more languages into my brain, and have sacrificed these other learning opportunities in order to preserve whatever French I can possibly retain. I only have so many language braincells. On the way out of town, he stopped and bought bread, cheese, olives, and water. When we arrived at the site, he, saying "thank you" in different tones and with gestures, conveyed that I was welcome to have lunch with him. In the middle of the dirt road, he laid out a table cloth (no other cars passed in the whole time we were there), and we took off our shoes and sat, eating our bread and cheese, and those tasty, tasty olives (variously alternating thanking each other in each other's respective language). He also requested that I take this photograph of him.

After lunch, it was finally time to explore the site. Excitement brewing, I paused over each artifact in the small museum, and peered into the research labs, piled high with bones and artifacts.

The reconstructed model habitat was beautiful, simple, and had my imagination working in overtime. One of the interesting things about this city, was that buildings were built on top of each other in a haphazard grid pattern. I haven't ever been to Cairo, but it feels reminiscent to that which I know and have seen in the media about Cairo's slums.

I was the only tourist at the site. There was a small classroom of local children (about 8 of them), doing artworks on outdoor tables in the style of the people from that time. Being the only tourist, I got a personal tour, and realized quickly that this was still very much a working, functioning, archaeological site. The staff was on hand excavating, preserving wall paintings, sifting detritus, injecting some kind of liquid into load-bearing walls, using surveying equipment, and drawing sketches. There were small tags with numbers throughout the site, clearly marking interesting finds too minute or technical for me to distinguish as a layperson. I had a lovely talk with one of the archaeologists, who informed me that amongst their very international staff, there were four illustrators. This news made me start with grand ideas and excitement. Sometime in the future I want to work on one of these sites, whether as general grunt and dirt-sifter, or illustrator . . . that was my decision, there amongst the dust, sweating in 40 degree celsius weather, amongst men with shirts more stained than not, sporting 2-month-long beards. An appealing idea only to a certain kind of person, I think.

On my way out of this lovely city, in an effort to find the tram to the bus station (I was on my way to the capital, Ankara), I had yet another example of human kindness. An elderly woman, fully dressed in covering clothing and a hijab (me in my inappropriate jeans and t-shirt all ready for travel, hefting my hiking pack around) clearly could see I was unsure of where I was going. Between my minimal Turkish knowledge of the word "Otogar" -- or bus station, and repeating "tram", which I believe is the same, or a similar word, in Turkish, she figured out where I was trying to get to. Instead of trying to point me in that direction, she took my hand, and physically walked me to the tram stop, then talked to the driver and told him where I wanted to go and asked him (I think) to tell me when to get off. Not only that, but the tram driver refused payment, and when I looked terribly confused, a local man with some English language skills informed me that the tram was free for tourists. I'll always have a fondness in my heart for Konya, and am interested to read some more Rumi. Fascinating culture.

Gosh, this is a long post. I'd better let you all go and get on with your lives! Till the next time (Mandy and Figo wedding photos to come)!
-Mary

The Aya Sofya (or more well known as the Hagia Sophia)

For the first few days in Istanbul we skirted around the Aya Sofya. It's very prominent in the skyline, and was sure to be on the itinerary at some point or another. Mandy, Katie, Michelle, and I had a lovely lunch on a rooftop deck one day, overlooking the beautiful building.

But once you're there, and finally walking inside (after standing in the long line in Turkey's daytime heat) you realise it is so much more. The detail in that building is incredible.

In the end, I visited the Aya Sofya with Mandy, Megan, and Dave. You can see from this picture, the immediate reaction we had. The Aya Sofya began its life as a Greek Orthodox Basilica, was transformed into a Mosque in the 15th century, and now remains as a museum to both and more. People of all faiths are welcome in this building, although it is no longer used for prayer.

The interior is decorated with mosaics, pillars, and marble, and shows influences from both Christian and Muslim religions.

To get up to the upper galleries, there is a very interesting passageway that evoked older times to me. It's things like these that make me wish I'd taken a tour, however, usually I've not been very impressed by tours or tour guides, so it's always a toss-up. Perhaps I'll just leave this to my imagination.

Architecturally, the building is breathtaking. The mosaics/paintings inside are worth a visit in and of themselves. Culturally, I enjoy the feeling of flux and melding of cultures and religions that is so often hidden from view. This building highlights the history of Istanbul, and gives us a window into the beauty of different time periods, peoples, and beliefs. If you're interested in some of the stories/myths surrounding the Hagia Sofia, this website seems to have a variety.