What's up all,
Well, if the weather in Frankfurt doesn't get any nastier, I should be home tomorrow evening. I've been gone for just under 4 months. By the time I get home, I'll have traveled nearly 15,000 miles by plane, train, bus, camel, taxi cab, and hot air balloon. I've seen some wild stuff and had some great times exploring 4 new countries, but I've got to say, I'm more than ready to get home. We'll see how the reverse culture-shock goes, but I'm hoping the excitement of being home will outweigh the strangeness of being back in the old US of A.
I'll try to put up one last post with pictures from Egypt and Israel, but I don't think I'll get around to that post until after Christmas. Either way, I just wanted to thank everyone again for reading my blog over the course of my travels. I hope you've all enjoyed getting a little glimpse of my time in the Middle East!
Until next time (probably the last time for this blog),
Your Favorite Luker
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Last day in Cairo, Off to Israel
What's up all,
Wow, it's been over a month since my last post, definitely the longest I've gone without posting something new, and in that time I've been crazy busy, so I guess I shouldn't be too apologetic for failing to keep everyone updated. Anyways, I'll be home in just about a week now, so I'll be able to recount my last month abroad in person with many of you.
Nonetheless, I figured I should throw up one last blog before I set off for Israel by overnight bus later this evening. Egypt has been incredibly cool and incredibly busy. When we've been in Cairo, we've had an average of 5 hours of class a day at the American University in Cairo (AUC), classes on subjects ranging from ancient and modern Egyptian history to Islam in Egypt, from the funerary practices of Ancient Egyptians to American-Mid East International Relations, a random. Fortunately, even though we've had a ton of class in Egypt, we only had one test for our classes from AUC; I rushed through the test this morning, and I've got to be honest, I was far too travel-fatigued to put much effort into it, but at least it's over. To be even more honest, I've got to say that with the exception of my final exam and term paper for Professor Langerak's test, I've been completely checked out for the last month in regards to academics. Our AUC lectures were interesting and I did make an effort to pay some attention to the material, but unfortunately, it seems as if my mind has reached a level super-saturation, over-filled with everything I've seen and experienced over the course of my travels. At this point, there's just no room left in my mind for new information. Hopefully a couple of weeks of decompressing at home will free up some extra space in my head in time for my last semester of classes at St. Olaf.
Cairo has been a great city to explore. The city is by far the dirtiest city I've ever seen, at times breathing is difficult with all the smog and even seeing clearly can be a challenge with all of the dust in the air, but I've got to admit that Cairo has character; the people are friendly, the food is good and extremely cheap, and there's plenty to do if you have the energy and the persistence to seek stuff out. Highlights from my time in Cairo include a boat ride on the Nile, live jazz at the Cairo Jazz Club, smoking hookah at the Marriott, and digging in on Cario's cheap street food (e.g. beef and chicken shwerma, koshary, lentil and onion soup, etc.)
We've also had a few guided tours of sights in Cairo including tours of the Great Pyramids, Egypt's most famous sight. The tours were interesting in terms of content, but on several occasions, Cairo's weather and pollution made touring nearly unbearable. During our last round of tours this past weekend, the wind was blowing strong through the streets, kicking up enough dust to make all of the air turn a nasty beige color. I couldn't walk more than a few steps without having to rub the dirt out of my eyes. I could feel the dirt crusting up on my skin and in my hair and when I licked my teeth or my lips, I could taste the dust on my tongue and I could feel it crunching in my teeth. The air around me, the sky, and the horizon were all rendered indistinguishable by the thick fog of dust rising up to mix with the smog that's always hanging over Cairo's skyline.
In addition to class and sightseeing in Cairo, our group also had two mini-excursions in Egypt. During our first excursion, we headed North to the Mediterranean to visit the WWII battlefields at El Alamein and to check out Alexandria, the second largest city in Egypt behind Cairo. We spent a day at a beach resort on the Mediterranean that rivaled the horrible Batihan in Turkey in terms of strangeness: the Porto Marina Resort, a nearly deserted, thousand-plus room monstrosity with it's own hopeless mall filled with closed shops that looked as if they had been looted. The only thing that was open in the Porto Marina mall was the Chili's restaurant, whose staff didn't seem to understand the concept of bottomless chips and salsa and drinks. And the beach was pretty crummy too, but at least we had the chance to do nothing for a couple of days.
Alexandria was fairly interesting. We visited the Alexandrian Library, built as an homage to the ancient library at Alexandria. We also checked out the original site of Alexandria's famous lighthouse, one of the wonders of the ancient world; the lighthouse collapsed into the Mediterranean over one thousand years ago, but we were able to visit a fort built in the 15th century at the original location of the lighthouse. After Alexandria, we were back to Cairo for several weeks of class.
In addition to climbing Mount Sinai back in the first week of November, the second highlight of my time in Egypt, and probably of my time abroad, happened during our second round of excursion to southern Egypt, referred to as Upper Egypt (that might seem to be backwards, but it's all about the flow of the Nile, which runs south to north, hence south is Upper and north is Lower). Overall, our second excursion was really cool. We saw amazing tombs and temples in Aswan and the Valley of the Kings in Luxor, incredible art and architecture that has endured for over 4500 years. Our group took a ride on the Nile in a sailboat in Luxor and some of us, myself included, coughed up the dough (80USD) for a sunrise hot-air balloon ride over the Valley of the Kings. But, even though all of these experiences might deserve once-in-a-life-time status, the top prize for highlight of the trip goes my day of scuba diving on the Red Sea. Un-expletive-believable. I don't have the time right now to describe my scuba-dive for all of you because it would take me far too long to do it justice. All I wanted to say is that it was one of the best, if not the very best, day of my whole trip.
Well, I've got a lot more to say and many pictures to share, but I think I'll save the rest of my material for one final post, which I probably won't get around to creating until after I get home. In that case, most of you will have a chance to hear about the rest of my trip straight from the Luker's mouth. If this ends up being my final post, I want to thank all of you for following my blog over the last 3 and 1/2 plus months. It's been a real trip and I hope you've enjoyed my posts. I'll see you all soon.
Ohh, here's one picture of me at the Pyramids. Check out my flow. That's what you get when you don't cut your hair for 7+ months.
Peace,
Your Favorite Luker
Wow, it's been over a month since my last post, definitely the longest I've gone without posting something new, and in that time I've been crazy busy, so I guess I shouldn't be too apologetic for failing to keep everyone updated. Anyways, I'll be home in just about a week now, so I'll be able to recount my last month abroad in person with many of you.
Nonetheless, I figured I should throw up one last blog before I set off for Israel by overnight bus later this evening. Egypt has been incredibly cool and incredibly busy. When we've been in Cairo, we've had an average of 5 hours of class a day at the American University in Cairo (AUC), classes on subjects ranging from ancient and modern Egyptian history to Islam in Egypt, from the funerary practices of Ancient Egyptians to American-Mid East International Relations, a random. Fortunately, even though we've had a ton of class in Egypt, we only had one test for our classes from AUC; I rushed through the test this morning, and I've got to be honest, I was far too travel-fatigued to put much effort into it, but at least it's over. To be even more honest, I've got to say that with the exception of my final exam and term paper for Professor Langerak's test, I've been completely checked out for the last month in regards to academics. Our AUC lectures were interesting and I did make an effort to pay some attention to the material, but unfortunately, it seems as if my mind has reached a level super-saturation, over-filled with everything I've seen and experienced over the course of my travels. At this point, there's just no room left in my mind for new information. Hopefully a couple of weeks of decompressing at home will free up some extra space in my head in time for my last semester of classes at St. Olaf.
Cairo has been a great city to explore. The city is by far the dirtiest city I've ever seen, at times breathing is difficult with all the smog and even seeing clearly can be a challenge with all of the dust in the air, but I've got to admit that Cairo has character; the people are friendly, the food is good and extremely cheap, and there's plenty to do if you have the energy and the persistence to seek stuff out. Highlights from my time in Cairo include a boat ride on the Nile, live jazz at the Cairo Jazz Club, smoking hookah at the Marriott, and digging in on Cario's cheap street food (e.g. beef and chicken shwerma, koshary, lentil and onion soup, etc.)
We've also had a few guided tours of sights in Cairo including tours of the Great Pyramids, Egypt's most famous sight. The tours were interesting in terms of content, but on several occasions, Cairo's weather and pollution made touring nearly unbearable. During our last round of tours this past weekend, the wind was blowing strong through the streets, kicking up enough dust to make all of the air turn a nasty beige color. I couldn't walk more than a few steps without having to rub the dirt out of my eyes. I could feel the dirt crusting up on my skin and in my hair and when I licked my teeth or my lips, I could taste the dust on my tongue and I could feel it crunching in my teeth. The air around me, the sky, and the horizon were all rendered indistinguishable by the thick fog of dust rising up to mix with the smog that's always hanging over Cairo's skyline.
In addition to class and sightseeing in Cairo, our group also had two mini-excursions in Egypt. During our first excursion, we headed North to the Mediterranean to visit the WWII battlefields at El Alamein and to check out Alexandria, the second largest city in Egypt behind Cairo. We spent a day at a beach resort on the Mediterranean that rivaled the horrible Batihan in Turkey in terms of strangeness: the Porto Marina Resort, a nearly deserted, thousand-plus room monstrosity with it's own hopeless mall filled with closed shops that looked as if they had been looted. The only thing that was open in the Porto Marina mall was the Chili's restaurant, whose staff didn't seem to understand the concept of bottomless chips and salsa and drinks. And the beach was pretty crummy too, but at least we had the chance to do nothing for a couple of days.
Alexandria was fairly interesting. We visited the Alexandrian Library, built as an homage to the ancient library at Alexandria. We also checked out the original site of Alexandria's famous lighthouse, one of the wonders of the ancient world; the lighthouse collapsed into the Mediterranean over one thousand years ago, but we were able to visit a fort built in the 15th century at the original location of the lighthouse. After Alexandria, we were back to Cairo for several weeks of class.
In addition to climbing Mount Sinai back in the first week of November, the second highlight of my time in Egypt, and probably of my time abroad, happened during our second round of excursion to southern Egypt, referred to as Upper Egypt (that might seem to be backwards, but it's all about the flow of the Nile, which runs south to north, hence south is Upper and north is Lower). Overall, our second excursion was really cool. We saw amazing tombs and temples in Aswan and the Valley of the Kings in Luxor, incredible art and architecture that has endured for over 4500 years. Our group took a ride on the Nile in a sailboat in Luxor and some of us, myself included, coughed up the dough (80USD) for a sunrise hot-air balloon ride over the Valley of the Kings. But, even though all of these experiences might deserve once-in-a-life-time status, the top prize for highlight of the trip goes my day of scuba diving on the Red Sea. Un-expletive-believable. I don't have the time right now to describe my scuba-dive for all of you because it would take me far too long to do it justice. All I wanted to say is that it was one of the best, if not the very best, day of my whole trip.
Well, I've got a lot more to say and many pictures to share, but I think I'll save the rest of my material for one final post, which I probably won't get around to creating until after I get home. In that case, most of you will have a chance to hear about the rest of my trip straight from the Luker's mouth. If this ends up being my final post, I want to thank all of you for following my blog over the last 3 and 1/2 plus months. It's been a real trip and I hope you've enjoyed my posts. I'll see you all soon.
Ohh, here's one picture of me at the Pyramids. Check out my flow. That's what you get when you don't cut your hair for 7+ months.
Well, see all of you soon! I know Minnesota is buried in snow right now, and I'm sure all of my friends and family there are probably sick of the weather already, but I'm really excited to get back for a white Christmas, and I'll gladly endure the sub-zero temperatures to be home again! <1 Week!
Peace,
Your Favorite Luker
Friday, November 12, 2010
Maroc Excursion and Egypt Arrival
Your Favorite Luker on the Summit of Mount Sinai
What's up all,
Well it's been awhile since my last post, just about two and a half weeks, and in that time a helluva lot has happened (Moroccan excursion, arrival in Egypt, climbing Mount Sinai, etc.) so I think it's about time to bring you all up to speed. And fair forewarning to all of you: this is going to be a long post so feel free to bail at any time.
I'm wrapping up this post on the new campus of the American University in Cairo, probably one of the most prestigious universities in the Middle East and definitely one of the only universities in the region that can call itself a legit liberal arts institution. The campus out here is beautiful, a sprawl of collegiate modernity hunkered out in the desert in the midst of new housing developments, business centers, and gated communities sprouting up around the northeastern outskirts of Cairo. I'm on the last leg of my TIME 2010 program, in the last country I'll visit with all of the 2010 TIMErs. Of course, I'll be heading on to Israel for a couple of days after Egypt, but only for 7 days instead of the original 12 I had planned for; I had planned to spend Christmas in Israel, but I've had a change of heart. Now, I'll be returning home on December 22nd, just in time for Christmas. I thought I'd be cool with missing Christmas at home, but after all of this time away, I'm going to be glad to get home a little earlier.
Moroccan excursion was most excellent and my impression of that country improved immeasurably after leaving the choked streets of Fez. Over the course of our 12 day excursion, we visited a lot of cool places. As opposed to our Turkish excursion, which consisted almost entirely of visits to ancient ruins, during Moroccan excursion we spent the majority of our time exploring towns and natural sites. On the first night of excursion, we drove to Erfoud, a middle-sized town on the edge of the Western Sahara. After barreling across dusty roads in a small fleet of Toyota Land Cruisers, we arrived at our accommodations for the night, a series of Bedouin-style tents set-up by our hotel for guests interested in spending a night in the desert. We had an amazing meal, and before the moon-rise, some of the best star-gazing I've ever experienced, perhaps with the exception of stars I've seen in the Boundary Waters. Once we had finished our delicious meal, our entire group ventured out into the dunes. The sight of Saharan dunes covered in shadows and moonlight might go down as one of the coolest sights I've ever seen. Really amazing stuff. I slept great during my night in the desert, but when I woke up at 5 to catch the sunrise, I was freezing. Even a pile of thick woolen blankets wasn't enough to keep me warm against the borderline-freezing desert nights. In the morning, our entire group took a short camel ride out into the desert. What an event: 18 Oles mounted up on tall camels, trekking out across the dunes. That might go down as the best morning of my trip or at least the most entertaining. Here's some pictures of my night and morning in the desert:
Sunrise over the Sahara
Caravan of Camel-riding Oles (that's me in the front if you couldn't tell)
Our Bedouin Tents (very cozy at first, but very cold by the end of the night)
Sunrise over the Sahara
Caravan of Camel-riding Oles (that's me in the front if you couldn't tell)
After a night back in Erfoud, we set off for the Tineghir and Todra gorges on our way to the town of Ouazazate. The gorges were beautiful: towering red walls with a small stream running through their valley. After a scrambling hike up the sides of the gorge to an rocky overlook, I went for a nice dip in one of the stream pools; it was only about waist-high, but the cool, fresh water still felt incredible. We only spent a few hours exploring the gorges, but the briefness of our visit did not make it any less refreshing.
The Tinegher-Todra Gorge
One Wall of the Tineghir-Todra Gorges
On our way out of Ouazazate, we visited the Atlas Film studios, which served as a location for several Hollywood films including Gladiator and The Mummy. Needless to say, the visit was pretty forgettable: decaying set buildings and fake scenery, a pretty rundown place. However, our day did improve. On our way to Essouria, a beach town on the shores of the Atlantic, we worked our way through the High Atlas mountains. Navigating the narrow, tightly winding roads in our massive, 36 passenger bus, the bus seeming to actually lean out over the sheer cliffs falling hundreds of feet straight down from the outer bank of the road, it was a pretty thrilling experience. I was cool with it, but some of the other group members were not having such a great time. We stopped for a two hour lunch break just below one of the highest mountain passes on our route. Along with several members of my group, I took advantage of the break to do some more hiking up the steep, shale hillsides. We made it up several hundred vertical feet and were rewarded with some spectacular views. Here's a picture of some sheep grazing in the High Atlas:
Our Trusty Bus (but probably too big for the High Atlas Roads)
Once we made it out of the High Atlas, we continued on to Essouria, Morocco's "City of Wind", a popular destination for surfers, windsurfers and kite boarders (a combination of surfing and para-sailing). I loved Essouria. The town was quaint and clean and it's Medina seemed very comfortable with all of it's white-washed walls and blue doors. The air was fresh and cool with the slight, salty humidity of ocean towns, a humidity that still manages to seem crisp. We were fortunate enough to spend three nights in Essouria, including Halloween. On the day of Halloween, I even tried surfing for the first time. Needless to say, my height did not play to my advantage. I was close to getting up a few times, but not close enough to avoid getting swamped by the waves. Luckily the waves were calm and the shallow ocean floor was completely sandy and free of coral, so getting swamped wasn't too bad. On Halloween night, we continued with the beach bum vibe of the day, opting for a big bonfire on the beach to celebrate the last hours of the holiday. I didn't make any effort to pull a costume together (my current Euro-trash look is a good enough get-up) and there wasn't any opportunity for trick-or-treating, tee-peeing or any of the other typical Halloween activities, but it was one of the better Halloween's I've had in a long time, probably my best Halloween since I was actually young enough to load up on trick-or-treating candy. Here's some pictures from Essouria:
High Atlas Herd
Our Trusty Bus (but probably too big for the High Atlas Roads)
Once we made it out of the High Atlas, we continued on to Essouria, Morocco's "City of Wind", a popular destination for surfers, windsurfers and kite boarders (a combination of surfing and para-sailing). I loved Essouria. The town was quaint and clean and it's Medina seemed very comfortable with all of it's white-washed walls and blue doors. The air was fresh and cool with the slight, salty humidity of ocean towns, a humidity that still manages to seem crisp. We were fortunate enough to spend three nights in Essouria, including Halloween. On the day of Halloween, I even tried surfing for the first time. Needless to say, my height did not play to my advantage. I was close to getting up a few times, but not close enough to avoid getting swamped by the waves. Luckily the waves were calm and the shallow ocean floor was completely sandy and free of coral, so getting swamped wasn't too bad. On Halloween night, we continued with the beach bum vibe of the day, opting for a big bonfire on the beach to celebrate the last hours of the holiday. I didn't make any effort to pull a costume together (my current Euro-trash look is a good enough get-up) and there wasn't any opportunity for trick-or-treating, tee-peeing or any of the other typical Halloween activities, but it was one of the better Halloween's I've had in a long time, probably my best Halloween since I was actually young enough to load up on trick-or-treating candy. Here's some pictures from Essouria:
Rocks, Waves, and Fortress Walls in Essouria
Alleyway in the Essouria's Medina
Fishing Boats
I was bummed to leave Essouria, but not too bummed because we were moving on to Marrakech, probably the most popular tourist destination in Morocco. We spent four nights at the Andalous Hotel. The majority of our hotels have been far from rustic, a bit too nice for me, and certainly more nice than I had ever expected, but the Andalous has been the best of them all. The beds were huge and comfortable. The food was excellent. I ended up sleeping past my alarm on three of the mornings there and holding up the whole group; I blame it entirely on those cushy beds.
Marrakech was cool, but it didn't really live up to my expectations. We visited Marrakech's Medina, which was much of the same as the Medina's we'd visited in Fez and Essouria, basically just a huge maze of stuff to by. Marrakech's main square, Djemma El Fna, was quite the sight, a bustling mess of date and fig vendors, food stands, storytellers and snake charmers. I was pretty damned scared to walk through the bulk of the square for fear of wandering into the midst of a snake charmer's display. I'm absolutely terrified of snakes and I know I couldn't handle finding myself face to face with a cobra, head raised and hood spread. My heart would've given out on that one. Here's some pictures from Marrakech:
Lamps and Light in a Medina Alley
On our last day in Marrakech, we took a trip to the Ouzoud Cascades, one of the best natural sights in all of Morocco. The cascades didn't seem to be flowing at full force, but they were still damned impressive: over 330 feet tall, water rushing down over red rock to freezing, green pools. Many of us went swimming and the water was absolutely frigid, but absolutely refreshing as well. I really enjoyed leaping off into the water from some of the tall rocks lining the cascade pools. It was an excellent afternoon.
Pic 1 of the Ouzoud Cascades
Pic 2 of the Cascades
After Marrakech, we made our way back to the Atlantic coast to the city of Rabat, Morocco's capital. In Rabat, we visited two impressive Kasbahs, medieval Muslim fortresses. We also drove by several embassies and government buildings including the U.S. embassy, which appeared to be pretty rundown (not surprising...I doubt we have much of an interest in Morocco diplomatically or otherwise). Lastly, we visited the mausoleum of King Hassan II, the father of the current King, Mohammed VI. We spent our night in Rabat in yet another plush hotel, too nice for my tastes (note to St. Olaf: save us a buck and book us some cheaper digs), and then we were off to Casablanca for our last full day in Morocco.
In Casablanca, we visited the King Hassan II Mosque (named after and commissioned by King Hassan II), the third largest mosque in the world after the mosques at Mecca and Medina. The mosque was ridiculous. At max capacity, the interior of the 25,000 worshipers, while the outdoor grounds can accommodate another 80,000 worshipers for a total congregation of 105,000 worshipers. During Ramadan and the other Islamic holidays, the place is guaranteed to be packed. The mosque is built right on the Atlantic coast and part of the mosque even extends out over the water. The mosque also has the tallest religious minaret in the world, measuring in at 689ft. No one really knows the total construction costs for the mosque, but conservative estimates, which are probably underestimates, place the final price tag at about $800 million USD. Other estimates put the price well over a billion dollars and perhaps upward of 2-4 billion USD. After seeing this place, I wouldn't be surprised if it actually cost in the billions to build it. From the mosaics to the granite and marble, the Italian crystal chandeliers, the ablution fountains (over 80 huge fountains used for ritualistic cleaning before prayers), the enormous hand-carved and painted cedar roof, which is actually a retractable (unbelievable), a price tag of 4 billion would not surprise me. What is surprising is that a country of such poverty would be willing to spend upwards of 4% of it's GDP on such an extravagant construction. The place was beautiful, but it was a bit sickening at the same time. Here's some pics:
King Hasan II Mosque
Exterior Mosaic
Main Hall of King Hassan II Mosque
Mosque Mezzanine Ceiling
We flew out of Casablanca on Royal Air Maroc, a somewhat notorious airline (cited in Malcom Gladwell's Outliers as one of the worst airlines in the world in terms of frequency of accidents that result from miscommunications). But, we made it to Cairo safe and sound after a 5 hour flight across Northern Africa. All me and my knees can say is 'woof'.
We spent our first night in Cairo in the Cosmopolitan Hotel, our residence whenever we're spending time in Cairo. Our group will be spending much of our time in Egypt in Cairo, but our time here is punctuated with a bunch of mini-excursions to Alexandria, the Giza Pyramids, Answan, and Luxor, so we'll never be in the Cosmo for more than 5 nights at a time. On our first full day in Egypt, we set out for the Sinai Desert to visit St. Catherine's Monastery, and of course to climb Mount Sinai, trekking in the footsteps of Moses. We had a wake-up call at 2 in the morning on Tuesday the 9th, but I didn't even manage to get to sleep. Part of me was too excited to sleep, but I gotta blame the bulk of my insomnia on the infestation of mosquitoes in our hotel room. I don't think I've ever been more annoyed of mosquitoes in my life and that's saying a lot coming from a Minnesotan with his fair share of time in the BWCA. Whatever, I got a great adrenaline rush from being sleep-deprived, and that rush only continued to build during my group's predawn hike up the mountain. We walked in almost complete darkness beat back with nothing more than a few meager flashlight and headlamp beams. The stars were thick and incredible, nearly as good as the stars above the Sahara. It took us over two hours to make it up to the summit; I think we climbed well over 1200 vertical feet, but that's just my roughest estimate (might have been more, might have been less, I'm not sure). When we reached the summit, the sky was just beginning to lighten. Even though the summit was crowded, we were still able to find a spot for our entire group right on the edge of the bluff. Watching the sunrise over that barren, brown granite range, rough and bleak and all the more beautiful for it, that experience was one of the coolest of my life. Sinai's gotta be one of the coolest places I've ever been, perhaps with the exception of Machu Picchu.
Sunrise View from the Sinai Summit
Enjoying the Sunrise
Well, I've got a few more details to share, but this post has already been a monster, so I think I'll cut it short and save the rest of what I have to say for a latter date. I hope all of you are in the best of health.
Until next time,
Your Favorite Luker
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Madrid Jaunt and My Last Night in Fez
As you probably know, I was fortunate enough to spend this last weekend in Madrid spending my time chilling out, walking nonstop, seeing the sites, drinking in fresh air clear of the exhaust that dominates Fez's atmosphere, digging on a bit of culture, and having a beer for the first time in over a month, all of this going down Spain's gorgeous capital. I wish I could post some pictures from my brief time in Madrid, but I neglected to bring my camera for the weekend since I wasn't sure whether or not Ryan Air would let me bring an extra bag, and I didn't have room in my main carry-on to accommodate my bulky camera. I guess I'll just have to use my gift of gab to illustrate a glimpse of Madrid for all of you.
The city was wonderful, full of open plazas and open air cafes, regal buildings, tree lined streets, botanical gardens, the Spanish equivalent of Central Park, perfect fall temperatures all day and even a little cold at night (I'm glad I brought my fleece), air so fresh you could taste the crispness of it on each breath (probably the most welcome difference from Fez where I actually find myself holding my breath or at least struggling to not breath through my noise in hopes of avoiding some of the epic stench of the Medina e.g. meat ranging from raw to rotten, leather tanneries, donkey shit, car exhaust, etc.), and finally, after all of my dull time in Fez, I actually had stuff to do, museums to see, new foods to try, actual activities. Madrid was the perfect respite from the chaos of Fez, a break back to culture and fall weather, a break back to a clean city and crosswalk signals, a break from the Third World, back in a developed country again if only for a short while. When my fellow Spain Travelers and I exited to Metro up to the street in Madrid, we all let out a loud collective sigh of relief
The highlight of the trip was probably my visit to the Reina Sophia Museum of Contemporary Art. I was even able to get into the museum free of charge; they offer free admission for several hours each day. Reina Sophia has a huge collection of Picasso's, several paintings by Salvador Dali, a couple of Goya's, and some Max Ernst as well. But the crown jewel of the place is certainly Picasso's epic mural, "Guernica", which just happens to be my favorite painting of all time. I though it might be displayed in Madrid, but I wasn't sure. As we began to walk around the museum, I noticed several Picasso's drawn and/or painted in a style similar to Guernica. According to Nick Stang and Connor Johnson I actually gasped when we happened upon the room in which Guernica was displayed. I was positively giddy for the rest of our time at the museum, and those of you who know me know that I'm not normally a very giddy guy. I can say without a doubt that I've never felt greater excitement from seeing a painting in all of my life. Oh, and the Salvador Dali's were pretty great too (he might be my second favorite artist behind Picasso).
After my visit to Reina Sophia, I headed over to Madrid's equivalent of Central Park for a long walk through the trees in the midst of their fall color-change. Unfortunately, Fez doesn't have any legit greens space, so needless to say it was incredibly refreshing to have some time in such a beautiful park.
I was also lucky enough to visit the Prado Museum, Madrid's classic art museum. And like Reina Sophia, I was able to get into the Prado during their free hours. What a deal: two of the better museums in Europe without spending a dime. The Prado was amazing, but I'm not very partial to classic paintings. I respect the technical skill involved and I have been blown away by what people have been able to do with some paint and brushes, but I still get a bigger emotive kick out of contemporary, modern-era art. Nonetheless, I can't deny the amazing quality and size of the Prado's collection. When I was there, I saw dozens of Goya's, including his immensely disturbing "Pinturas Negras" (Black Paintings), which he composed shortly after going completely insane, a bunch of El Greco's and Diego Velázquez's (including his most famous work, "Las Meninas", one Caravaggio and one Rembrandt (Rembrandt's "Artemisia"), paintings by Tintoretto and Titian, Raphael and Durer, so many classic works, too many in fact; we were kicked out for closing time well before we could get to everything we wanted to see. I definitely got my money's worth though.
Well there's more to tell about Madrid, but I could go on for far too long about my weekend jaunt. One last funny anecdote: I was climbing into bed for an afternoon nap at our hostel and as per my habit, my bed-ward movement was accompanied by a series of grunts and groans from yours truly, just a little sample of my sounds of settling. I guess my noises are even stranger in Europe; a girl in our dormitory seemed to think I was in mortal pain, asking me if I was alright with an obvious sense of concern. I assured her that I was just fine.
Today I'm at the exact halfway point of my trip: two months down and two more to go. I'm over the hump, cruising on the down slope now, excited to get a move on. This is also my last night in Fez and I have to say, I'm ready to move on. My time here has been good for the most part, but I've had significant stretchs of boredom (there's absolutely nothing to do here) and homesickness made all the worse for not having stuff to do to distract me from missing home. My host family has been excellent, very accommodating with my schedule and more than willing to give me an ample amount of time on my own. I'll be sad to see them go, but it will be nice to not have to worry about stripping of Ziad's and Mohammed's 6th fingers every time I shake their hands.
I haven't really experienced any significant culture shock thus far on my trip, probably a consequence of my well-traveled past, which has certainly hardened me a bit against the strange sights you're guaranteed to encounter while you're abroad. However, upon my return from Spain, the underdeveloped reality of Morocco hit me a lot harder than when I first arrived in this country from Turkey. As I was walking back to my host family's apartment, I was suddenly enveloped in a strange sense of unreality. Even though I had walked the streets so many times before, on that night they seemed totally alien and unfamiliar to me. I guess I never realized how much I appreciate living in a developed country.
Tomorrow morning, I depart for my Moroccan excursion, which should be a blast. I'm looking forward most to Marrakesh, but I think Essouria will be equally awesome. It'll be good to get on the move; I've definitely been antsy this last month. I'm sure that I'll have some painfully long bus rides to tolerate, but it'll be totally worth it to get out and see some of this country beyond the close-packed walls of the Fez Medina. I'll make sure to keep you posted with pics included from my cross-country tour of Morocco, hitching a ride on the Marrakesh Express. Hard to believe that I'll be in Egypt In 12 days; I gotta tell you, that blows my mind. Another country to conquer, a step closer to home. Bring it on.
Until next time,
Your Favorite Luker
The city was wonderful, full of open plazas and open air cafes, regal buildings, tree lined streets, botanical gardens, the Spanish equivalent of Central Park, perfect fall temperatures all day and even a little cold at night (I'm glad I brought my fleece), air so fresh you could taste the crispness of it on each breath (probably the most welcome difference from Fez where I actually find myself holding my breath or at least struggling to not breath through my noise in hopes of avoiding some of the epic stench of the Medina e.g. meat ranging from raw to rotten, leather tanneries, donkey shit, car exhaust, etc.), and finally, after all of my dull time in Fez, I actually had stuff to do, museums to see, new foods to try, actual activities. Madrid was the perfect respite from the chaos of Fez, a break back to culture and fall weather, a break back to a clean city and crosswalk signals, a break from the Third World, back in a developed country again if only for a short while. When my fellow Spain Travelers and I exited to Metro up to the street in Madrid, we all let out a loud collective sigh of relief
The highlight of the trip was probably my visit to the Reina Sophia Museum of Contemporary Art. I was even able to get into the museum free of charge; they offer free admission for several hours each day. Reina Sophia has a huge collection of Picasso's, several paintings by Salvador Dali, a couple of Goya's, and some Max Ernst as well. But the crown jewel of the place is certainly Picasso's epic mural, "Guernica", which just happens to be my favorite painting of all time. I though it might be displayed in Madrid, but I wasn't sure. As we began to walk around the museum, I noticed several Picasso's drawn and/or painted in a style similar to Guernica. According to Nick Stang and Connor Johnson I actually gasped when we happened upon the room in which Guernica was displayed. I was positively giddy for the rest of our time at the museum, and those of you who know me know that I'm not normally a very giddy guy. I can say without a doubt that I've never felt greater excitement from seeing a painting in all of my life. Oh, and the Salvador Dali's were pretty great too (he might be my second favorite artist behind Picasso).
After my visit to Reina Sophia, I headed over to Madrid's equivalent of Central Park for a long walk through the trees in the midst of their fall color-change. Unfortunately, Fez doesn't have any legit greens space, so needless to say it was incredibly refreshing to have some time in such a beautiful park.
I was also lucky enough to visit the Prado Museum, Madrid's classic art museum. And like Reina Sophia, I was able to get into the Prado during their free hours. What a deal: two of the better museums in Europe without spending a dime. The Prado was amazing, but I'm not very partial to classic paintings. I respect the technical skill involved and I have been blown away by what people have been able to do with some paint and brushes, but I still get a bigger emotive kick out of contemporary, modern-era art. Nonetheless, I can't deny the amazing quality and size of the Prado's collection. When I was there, I saw dozens of Goya's, including his immensely disturbing "Pinturas Negras" (Black Paintings), which he composed shortly after going completely insane, a bunch of El Greco's and Diego Velázquez's (including his most famous work, "Las Meninas", one Caravaggio and one Rembrandt (Rembrandt's "Artemisia"), paintings by Tintoretto and Titian, Raphael and Durer, so many classic works, too many in fact; we were kicked out for closing time well before we could get to everything we wanted to see. I definitely got my money's worth though.
Well there's more to tell about Madrid, but I could go on for far too long about my weekend jaunt. One last funny anecdote: I was climbing into bed for an afternoon nap at our hostel and as per my habit, my bed-ward movement was accompanied by a series of grunts and groans from yours truly, just a little sample of my sounds of settling. I guess my noises are even stranger in Europe; a girl in our dormitory seemed to think I was in mortal pain, asking me if I was alright with an obvious sense of concern. I assured her that I was just fine.
Today I'm at the exact halfway point of my trip: two months down and two more to go. I'm over the hump, cruising on the down slope now, excited to get a move on. This is also my last night in Fez and I have to say, I'm ready to move on. My time here has been good for the most part, but I've had significant stretchs of boredom (there's absolutely nothing to do here) and homesickness made all the worse for not having stuff to do to distract me from missing home. My host family has been excellent, very accommodating with my schedule and more than willing to give me an ample amount of time on my own. I'll be sad to see them go, but it will be nice to not have to worry about stripping of Ziad's and Mohammed's 6th fingers every time I shake their hands.
I haven't really experienced any significant culture shock thus far on my trip, probably a consequence of my well-traveled past, which has certainly hardened me a bit against the strange sights you're guaranteed to encounter while you're abroad. However, upon my return from Spain, the underdeveloped reality of Morocco hit me a lot harder than when I first arrived in this country from Turkey. As I was walking back to my host family's apartment, I was suddenly enveloped in a strange sense of unreality. Even though I had walked the streets so many times before, on that night they seemed totally alien and unfamiliar to me. I guess I never realized how much I appreciate living in a developed country.
Tomorrow morning, I depart for my Moroccan excursion, which should be a blast. I'm looking forward most to Marrakesh, but I think Essouria will be equally awesome. It'll be good to get on the move; I've definitely been antsy this last month. I'm sure that I'll have some painfully long bus rides to tolerate, but it'll be totally worth it to get out and see some of this country beyond the close-packed walls of the Fez Medina. I'll make sure to keep you posted with pics included from my cross-country tour of Morocco, hitching a ride on the Marrakesh Express. Hard to believe that I'll be in Egypt In 12 days; I gotta tell you, that blows my mind. Another country to conquer, a step closer to home. Bring it on.
Until next time,
Your Favorite Luker
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Fez pics
As promised, here are some pictures from my time in Fez!
And now the picture you've all been waiting for...
I hope you all enjoyed the pictures! I leave for Madrid tomorrow afternoon for what is sure to be a fun weekend and a much needed break from Fez. I'll make sure to put down another blog upon my return from my jaunt to Spain.
Until next time,
Your Favorite Luker
Smile! You're In Fez!
Baker in the Medina
The Tannery (3rd dirtiest job in the world according to Mike Rowe):
The smell of this place was incredible, really overpowering. They gave us mint leaves to rub under our noses to mask the smell and that helped a little, but there's really nothing that can compare to the smell of tanning leather. It's probably the one scent I'll always associate with Fez.
The Water Clock:
One of my favorite places in Fez, Cafe Clock, is right next to the water clock, down a narrow alley way just below the left end of the clock. Cafe Clock serves up a delicious camel burger (see next photo down for the possible source of those tasty burgers)!
Meat Stand (notice the camel head dangling in the left side of the frame):
With the exception of the tannery, the raw smell of fresh, or (more likely) not so fresh meat is the other smell that dominates the streets of the Fez Medina. Gotta have a limited gag reflect and a tough stomach to brave these streets!
Crazy Cat Lady:
Typical Mosaic Motif
Town of Moulay Iddris:
We visited Moulay Iddris during our day trip on our first Saturday in Morocco. This town is the holiest site for Islam in all of Morocco.
Archway at the Ruins of Volubilis
Ziad Climbing:
My host brother Ziad (age 3) loves to climb up the door frames in the apartment. I'm always worried that he's going to fall, but judging by the nonchalance of his parents, I'd have to guess he's avoided hurting himself thus far.
And now the picture you've all been waiting for...
THE SIXTH FINGERS!!!
Now all of you can see the fingers, the unreality of which I could never hope to capture in words. Double click on the picture to get an up-close look, if you dare!
I hope you all enjoyed the pictures! I leave for Madrid tomorrow afternoon for what is sure to be a fun weekend and a much needed break from Fez. I'll make sure to put down another blog upon my return from my jaunt to Spain.
Until next time,
Your Favorite Luker
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Test time
I just finished rushing my way through my midterm for Professor Langerak's class, just so I could make it to my computer in time to write this blog! You can all be glad and proud of me for having such well-ordered priorities.
Seriously though, the test was not bad at all. I was well prepared and only minimally nervous. But, I am worried that my long-windedness might have gotten the best of me, yet again; too often, I end up saying more and more about less and less, and in the end I'm not really saying anything about anything; I'm just rambling. I only hope that Professor Langerak has the patience to read through all of my illegible, disorganized thoughts.
I am glad to be finished with the test. Even though studying was not overly difficult or stressful especially compared to the typical academic burden back at St. Olaf, in comparison to the the rest of the trip, which has been extremely relaxed in regards to academics, my brief, mild return to the stress and time commitments of St. Olaf was still a bit taxing.
In other news, my impression of Fez has improved considerably since my last post. Unfortunately, that improvement has been nothing more than a progression from mild disgust to persistent boredom. There's really nothing to do here during the day or during the night. I'd be just fine with Fez's lack of nighttime activities if this city had daytime diversions to offer, but as far as I can tell, there is nothing to do here, regardless of the time of day. Istanbul had it all: nightlife (bars, clubs, concerts, sporting events), cultural activities (mosques, museums), and basic diversions (beautiful views, places to exercise, etc.). There's just not enough to keep me active and engaged, and all of you how fast my attention can wander. Usually, I'd hesitate to blame my boredom on either my location or my ADD; in most cases, my boredom is my own fault, a consequence of my failure to be open-minded and adventurous. But, in the case of Fez, I can't help passing the buck.
Don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed some of my time in Fez; I just wouldn't have chosen to stay here for this long if it had been up to me. I've appreciated my time with my host family much more than I expected. Last Sunday, my host dad Jamal brought me with on some of his errands throughout the Medina, guiding me through a series of small, labyrinthine side streets I never would've been confident enough to explore on my own. I've also been able to purchase some excellent gifts; definitely the first time I've ever been this prudent with my Christmas shopping.
Well, I will get an excellent respite from Fez this weekend. The day after tomorrow, I'll be heading out for the weekend on a Ryan Air flight bound for Madrid. I booked the flight for the unbelievably low price of $36USD, and I'm sure I'll get just what I paid for (tiny seat, extra charge for using the bathroom, complete lack of customer service). Whatever. I'm going to Spain!
I only have a few days left in Fez, thankfully, but hopefully I can make the most of them. Next Wednesday, I'll be off on my Moroccan Excursion, which is sure to be excellent. Turkish excursion was pretty draining, but after the boredom of Fez, even if Moroccan excursion is dominated by long bus rides, I'm sure it'll be a welcome change nonetheless. I wanted to post some pictures from Fez, including photos of the infamous 6th fingers on the hands of my host brothers, but it looks like Blogspot has disabled Image uploads for the next two hours. I'll try to put some up tomorrow if I have the time.
I hope all of you are well!
Until next time,
Your Favorite Luker
Seriously though, the test was not bad at all. I was well prepared and only minimally nervous. But, I am worried that my long-windedness might have gotten the best of me, yet again; too often, I end up saying more and more about less and less, and in the end I'm not really saying anything about anything; I'm just rambling. I only hope that Professor Langerak has the patience to read through all of my illegible, disorganized thoughts.
I am glad to be finished with the test. Even though studying was not overly difficult or stressful especially compared to the typical academic burden back at St. Olaf, in comparison to the the rest of the trip, which has been extremely relaxed in regards to academics, my brief, mild return to the stress and time commitments of St. Olaf was still a bit taxing.
In other news, my impression of Fez has improved considerably since my last post. Unfortunately, that improvement has been nothing more than a progression from mild disgust to persistent boredom. There's really nothing to do here during the day or during the night. I'd be just fine with Fez's lack of nighttime activities if this city had daytime diversions to offer, but as far as I can tell, there is nothing to do here, regardless of the time of day. Istanbul had it all: nightlife (bars, clubs, concerts, sporting events), cultural activities (mosques, museums), and basic diversions (beautiful views, places to exercise, etc.). There's just not enough to keep me active and engaged, and all of you how fast my attention can wander. Usually, I'd hesitate to blame my boredom on either my location or my ADD; in most cases, my boredom is my own fault, a consequence of my failure to be open-minded and adventurous. But, in the case of Fez, I can't help passing the buck.
Don't get me wrong, I have enjoyed some of my time in Fez; I just wouldn't have chosen to stay here for this long if it had been up to me. I've appreciated my time with my host family much more than I expected. Last Sunday, my host dad Jamal brought me with on some of his errands throughout the Medina, guiding me through a series of small, labyrinthine side streets I never would've been confident enough to explore on my own. I've also been able to purchase some excellent gifts; definitely the first time I've ever been this prudent with my Christmas shopping.
Well, I will get an excellent respite from Fez this weekend. The day after tomorrow, I'll be heading out for the weekend on a Ryan Air flight bound for Madrid. I booked the flight for the unbelievably low price of $36USD, and I'm sure I'll get just what I paid for (tiny seat, extra charge for using the bathroom, complete lack of customer service). Whatever. I'm going to Spain!
I only have a few days left in Fez, thankfully, but hopefully I can make the most of them. Next Wednesday, I'll be off on my Moroccan Excursion, which is sure to be excellent. Turkish excursion was pretty draining, but after the boredom of Fez, even if Moroccan excursion is dominated by long bus rides, I'm sure it'll be a welcome change nonetheless. I wanted to post some pictures from Fez, including photos of the infamous 6th fingers on the hands of my host brothers, but it looks like Blogspot has disabled Image uploads for the next two hours. I'll try to put some up tomorrow if I have the time.
I hope all of you are well!
Until next time,
Your Favorite Luker
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Moroccan Food 1, Luke 0
Well, just like the Twinkies, in spite of a good start, Luker ended up getting his ass kicked in the opening week of his Moroccan adventure. Two nights before the Twins suffered at the hands of Mark Texeira and the Damn Yankees, I was hunched over a toilet, violently expunging the contents of my guts with bidirectional efficiency, or in order to be more accurate, I should describe my situation as a bidirectional dilemma. It was damned ugly. Our host family's bathroom already has some pretty offensive odors and it's too bad I had to add to it in such extreme, revolting fashion.
The cause of my sudden intestinal distress was obviously food poisoning. My only other experience with food-poisoning came during my Sophomore year of high school when I fell victim to an undercooked hot dog from the Lindbergh Center. Getting hit with a bout of food-borne illness was inevitable on a trip like this; I only hope that my episode thoroughly immunized me to any future digestive issues. After my awful night, I was able to take a room at the ALIF residence where I could recover without worrying my host family, or succumbing further to the formidable stench of their bathroom. I slept for the entire day, out cold, tucked in deep with the cousin of death. And even after sleeping for an entire day, I was able to fall straight back to sleep after a light meal of bread, Pringles, and 7-Up.
To be honest, I do feel proud of myself for how I handled the whole situation. After my poisoning in high school, I was laid up for over 4 days, completely bed-ridden and determined to complain non-stop until I was feeling back up to 100%. During my Moroccan ordeal, I felt surprisingly detached and calm the whole time. I remember thinking, "Wow, this really sucks. This is really a bummer, but what the hell can I do about it? Whatever. Gotta roll with the intestinal punches I guess. Gotta get everything out of me, and then I'll be all good again. Gotta let the rivers of vomit and diarrhea run their course." All things considered, I was pretty Zen throughout the whole ordeal.
And today, I'm certainly on the mend, feeling much better, well on my way back to 100%. And I have to admit, griping on my blog makes me feel better too. Allow me to extend a combined apology/thank you; I apologize for complaining, and I thank you for enduring said complaints.
I only hope that my brief retelling of my unfortunate gut trauma hasn't upset any of you too much. I apologize for that as well if I've happened to offend your tummies. Trust me, I could've gone into much more graphic, disgusting detail. Trust me, I exercised a considerable degree of restraint while writing this post.
Well, Morocco is off to a bit of a rocky start, but I'm confident that things will improve soon enough. Today, I booked plane tickets to Madrid for a trip on the weekend of the 22nd. And the tickets were only $36USD. I'm guessing Ryan Air might be a bit sketchy, but I don't mind getting what I paid for when I only paid 36 bucks for a flight.
I hope all of you are well. Know that I'm damned jealous that I can't get live access to the Twin's games like all of you lucky persons. The 5 hour time difference would seem to be manageable as far as game watching goes, but unfortunately, I only have internet access until 9 pm my time. That's a bummer dawg. Well, at least I can stay posted on their progress even though I may not get a chance to watch the game action.
That's all I've got.
Until next time,
Your Favorite Luker
The cause of my sudden intestinal distress was obviously food poisoning. My only other experience with food-poisoning came during my Sophomore year of high school when I fell victim to an undercooked hot dog from the Lindbergh Center. Getting hit with a bout of food-borne illness was inevitable on a trip like this; I only hope that my episode thoroughly immunized me to any future digestive issues. After my awful night, I was able to take a room at the ALIF residence where I could recover without worrying my host family, or succumbing further to the formidable stench of their bathroom. I slept for the entire day, out cold, tucked in deep with the cousin of death. And even after sleeping for an entire day, I was able to fall straight back to sleep after a light meal of bread, Pringles, and 7-Up.
To be honest, I do feel proud of myself for how I handled the whole situation. After my poisoning in high school, I was laid up for over 4 days, completely bed-ridden and determined to complain non-stop until I was feeling back up to 100%. During my Moroccan ordeal, I felt surprisingly detached and calm the whole time. I remember thinking, "Wow, this really sucks. This is really a bummer, but what the hell can I do about it? Whatever. Gotta roll with the intestinal punches I guess. Gotta get everything out of me, and then I'll be all good again. Gotta let the rivers of vomit and diarrhea run their course." All things considered, I was pretty Zen throughout the whole ordeal.
And today, I'm certainly on the mend, feeling much better, well on my way back to 100%. And I have to admit, griping on my blog makes me feel better too. Allow me to extend a combined apology/thank you; I apologize for complaining, and I thank you for enduring said complaints.
I only hope that my brief retelling of my unfortunate gut trauma hasn't upset any of you too much. I apologize for that as well if I've happened to offend your tummies. Trust me, I could've gone into much more graphic, disgusting detail. Trust me, I exercised a considerable degree of restraint while writing this post.
Well, Morocco is off to a bit of a rocky start, but I'm confident that things will improve soon enough. Today, I booked plane tickets to Madrid for a trip on the weekend of the 22nd. And the tickets were only $36USD. I'm guessing Ryan Air might be a bit sketchy, but I don't mind getting what I paid for when I only paid 36 bucks for a flight.
I hope all of you are well. Know that I'm damned jealous that I can't get live access to the Twin's games like all of you lucky persons. The 5 hour time difference would seem to be manageable as far as game watching goes, but unfortunately, I only have internet access until 9 pm my time. That's a bummer dawg. Well, at least I can stay posted on their progress even though I may not get a chance to watch the game action.
That's all I've got.
Until next time,
Your Favorite Luker
Monday, October 4, 2010
Made it to Morocco!
After a long Turkish excursion (the sites were amazing; the bus rides were exhausting), and an intense day of travel, I've finally made it Morocco, the second country on my semester-long, Middle Eastern jaunt. Well, it's quite a bit more than a jaunt, a journey indeed, an adventure, a quest, whatever you want to call it. Morocco is the second African country I've visited since I spent two weeks in Tanzania in the summer of 2007. But, Morocco is obviously a far different country than Tanzania, hunkered down on the northwest corner of the continent, a short jump across the Strait of Gibraltar from Spain and the rest of Europe.
I'm taking class at the Arabic/American Language Institute in Fez; it remains unclear what the "A" actually stands for, but since I'm learning Arabic, I guess we'll have to run with that designation for the wayward A. We have several meetings of Arabic class, 8 all told, I believe. In addition to Arabic, I'll have several sessions of a class on Moroccan Sociology, a variety of guest lectures related to our main sociology course, five meetings of Professor Langerak's class, and also a Moroccan cooking, which is sure to be especially interesting, or at least, especially delicious.
For those of you who don't know, during my time in Fez, I'll be living with a Moroccan host family in the old Medina. My family, the Naciri's are gracious, friendly hosts. They have a modest flat apartment near the walls of the Medina, a short walk from the Batha Gate, and about 10 minutes by cab from ALIF. Jamal, the father, is a music professor at a public school in Fez. The mother, Fadwa, is a stay-at-home mom as far as I can tell. The family has two young sons, Mohammed age 7 and Ziad age 3. The boys are very rambunctious. Ziad enjoys climbing over and leaping from all of the furniture in the house. At first, I felt like I should be on guard to catch him as often as possible, but the rest of the family seems to be relatively unconcerned by his clambering antics, so I'm guessing Ziad has avoided any serious accidents thus far. Perhaps, my vigilance will be unnecessary.
On a strange note, the boys both have extra, 6th fingers on the sides of each hand. This might sound unbelievable, but trust me, it's true, and trust me, seeing their odd hands in the flesh is far more shocking than hearing about them via my second-hand description. Their extra digits are not fully formed; the fingers consist of a single bony knuckle dangling from a thin tag of skin. The nubs dangle and swing from the sides of their hands. The boys have a strange habit of banging one of their fists into the palm of their other hand, causing the fingers jump about. Sometimes, they'll waggle their extra appendage right in your face. Shaking their hand is a really freaky experience; I have to be careful not to squeeze too hard because it feels like I could tear off the extra finger from their small hands. And I have to be honest, I catch myself staring all of the time. I probably shouldn't be as disturbed as I am. I guess the extra finger affliction is actually a genetically dominant trait, but obviously a trait that is "corrected" by removal of the offending appendages.
With the exception of two pairs of funny fingers, the family is wonderful. They have hosted many students in the past, including a pair of students from Minnesota who lived with them for several months last year.
So far, my days have been mellow. I haven't had enough time yet to explore the Medina, although I'm not sure any amount of time would be enough to really learn my way around this place. It's absolutely nuts, a bewildering network of narrow winding streets, innumerable turns and side alleys all snaking through high walls that block out any distant reference point. During our group tour of the Medina last Friday, our guide Ali gave a particularly apropos bit of advice in regards to exploring the Medina: "To learn, you must lose your reason. To learn, you must lose yourself". That's some pretty deep advice.
I'm usually pretty good with directions, but my navigational abilities are guaranteed to fail me as I struggle to weave my way through the Medina. Hopefully I don't end up trapped in an alley with a bunch of Moroccan glue sniffers; they can be a nasty bunch. That's mostly a joke. I don't think anybody is going to mess with me, what with my size and all. And besides, I doubt I'll ever be wandering around in the Medina on my own.
Well, I hope all of you at home are well and happy! I have a feeling October is going to fly right by. Next weekend, the weekend of the 15th, I'm probably going to be traveling to either Madrid or Seville. I'll keep you posted on those Spanish adventures. I'll probably find time to throw up another post before then, but just in case I don't...
Until next time,
Your Favorite Luker
I'm taking class at the Arabic/American Language Institute in Fez; it remains unclear what the "A" actually stands for, but since I'm learning Arabic, I guess we'll have to run with that designation for the wayward A. We have several meetings of Arabic class, 8 all told, I believe. In addition to Arabic, I'll have several sessions of a class on Moroccan Sociology, a variety of guest lectures related to our main sociology course, five meetings of Professor Langerak's class, and also a Moroccan cooking, which is sure to be especially interesting, or at least, especially delicious.
For those of you who don't know, during my time in Fez, I'll be living with a Moroccan host family in the old Medina. My family, the Naciri's are gracious, friendly hosts. They have a modest flat apartment near the walls of the Medina, a short walk from the Batha Gate, and about 10 minutes by cab from ALIF. Jamal, the father, is a music professor at a public school in Fez. The mother, Fadwa, is a stay-at-home mom as far as I can tell. The family has two young sons, Mohammed age 7 and Ziad age 3. The boys are very rambunctious. Ziad enjoys climbing over and leaping from all of the furniture in the house. At first, I felt like I should be on guard to catch him as often as possible, but the rest of the family seems to be relatively unconcerned by his clambering antics, so I'm guessing Ziad has avoided any serious accidents thus far. Perhaps, my vigilance will be unnecessary.
On a strange note, the boys both have extra, 6th fingers on the sides of each hand. This might sound unbelievable, but trust me, it's true, and trust me, seeing their odd hands in the flesh is far more shocking than hearing about them via my second-hand description. Their extra digits are not fully formed; the fingers consist of a single bony knuckle dangling from a thin tag of skin. The nubs dangle and swing from the sides of their hands. The boys have a strange habit of banging one of their fists into the palm of their other hand, causing the fingers jump about. Sometimes, they'll waggle their extra appendage right in your face. Shaking their hand is a really freaky experience; I have to be careful not to squeeze too hard because it feels like I could tear off the extra finger from their small hands. And I have to be honest, I catch myself staring all of the time. I probably shouldn't be as disturbed as I am. I guess the extra finger affliction is actually a genetically dominant trait, but obviously a trait that is "corrected" by removal of the offending appendages.
With the exception of two pairs of funny fingers, the family is wonderful. They have hosted many students in the past, including a pair of students from Minnesota who lived with them for several months last year.
So far, my days have been mellow. I haven't had enough time yet to explore the Medina, although I'm not sure any amount of time would be enough to really learn my way around this place. It's absolutely nuts, a bewildering network of narrow winding streets, innumerable turns and side alleys all snaking through high walls that block out any distant reference point. During our group tour of the Medina last Friday, our guide Ali gave a particularly apropos bit of advice in regards to exploring the Medina: "To learn, you must lose your reason. To learn, you must lose yourself". That's some pretty deep advice.
I'm usually pretty good with directions, but my navigational abilities are guaranteed to fail me as I struggle to weave my way through the Medina. Hopefully I don't end up trapped in an alley with a bunch of Moroccan glue sniffers; they can be a nasty bunch. That's mostly a joke. I don't think anybody is going to mess with me, what with my size and all. And besides, I doubt I'll ever be wandering around in the Medina on my own.
Well, I hope all of you at home are well and happy! I have a feeling October is going to fly right by. Next weekend, the weekend of the 15th, I'm probably going to be traveling to either Madrid or Seville. I'll keep you posted on those Spanish adventures. I'll probably find time to throw up another post before then, but just in case I don't...
Until next time,
Your Favorite Luker
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Cappadocia Claustrophobia
Well I learned something new about myself during my Turkish excursion; I have some pretty serious claustrophobia, definitely a legit, close-space-induced panic issue with all of the symptoms you might expect. My heart raced, my breath was ragged, I felt like a caged, suffocating animal. I was freaking the f*** out. Let me throw down some background information and some pictures of Cappadocia before I delve into the gory details of my claustrophobic episode:
The region of Cappadocia, located in east central Turkey, is a pretty incredible place in regards to it's scenery. Cappadocia's distinctive landscape is the product of volcanic ash deposited by ancient, now dormant volcanoes. Over the centuries, wind, rain, and rivers have sculpted the rock into a variety of surreal forms, including the famous "fairy chimneys. "Distinctive" is probably too light of an adjective to describe this place. I've never seen any naturally formed scenery that comes even close to this place. My descriptions and even my pictures cannot do it justice. It's like a hopped up version of the Badlands, literally the Badlands on psychedelic drugs. Pardon the blasphemy, but I wouldn't be surprised if God had been tripping balls when he sculpted Cappadocia. Here's a few photos to give you just the palest sense of this place:
I love this place. We've only been here for two days and I could certainly use some more time here. Taking pictures, scrambling up and down ash rock faces, hiking, exploring: it's all been freaking awesome, and I only wish we could stay here longer.
Now, onto the account of my freak out. On our first day in Cappadocia, we visited an underground city built by early Christians. When Arabs and Mongols mounted attacks on the ancient Christian towns of Cappadocia, Christian residents would retreat into these underground strongholds for protection. I'm not a brutish Mongol warrior or a fierce Arab fighter, but I am a big dude, and I'm usually a pretty daring fellow. However, I had a damn tough time braving my way through those caves. I am proud to say that I made it through our entire tour, but I'm embarrassed to admit that I griped and whined the whole way. During the tightest squeezes, I had to crouch down to my knees with my shoulders rolled over and my arms held tight to my chest. In this hunched pose, I shuffled my way through the narrow passages, praying with every panicky breath that the roof of the passage would hold up until I had passed. My heart was racing, my breath was ragged; I felt like I was on the edge of passing out; I scraped my head and shoulders multiple times; I was convinced that the exit tunnels would collapse leaving me trapped four stories down into the earth. If I was 20 years older, I would've had a heart attack. My refrain for the day was, "I don't like this. I don't like this. Not cool. God, I don't like this. I'm freaking out, man. I'm freaking out!" etc. etc. And imagine that refrain sung in a voice soaked with panic, cracking all over the place, tense as steel cable pulled taut between two John Deere tractors. Here's a set of pics from down in the caves, just to give you an idea of what I was dealing with:
The Group Ducking Down (I'm over a head taller than everyone in this photo. Needless to say, my neck was craned all the way over the whole time we were down in the caves)
I can't say that my experience in the caves was actually a full-blown panic attack, but it was easily one of the most extreme feelings of panic I've ever experienced. For the most part, I can keep my cool, but not this time. I'm tempted to attribute my extreme discomfort to the incompatibility between tiny, carved out caves and my own huge body, but I don't think that would be fair to all of the smaller, equally claustrophobic people who may or may not have explored the caves before me with more courage, and probably with far less complaining than I.
Well, I did survive and I did learn something new about myself as far as phobias go. I'll tell you this though; I will not be going back down into any underground cities for a long, long time. My experience didn't kill me, it probably didn't make me any stronger, but it did make me a bit smarter. Now I know that I need to avoid close quarters of the underground variety at all costs. I'm lucky I'm young. There's no way I could've made it through that damn place if I was 40.
Until next time (barring my death in an underground cave collapse),
Your Favorite Luker
The region of Cappadocia, located in east central Turkey, is a pretty incredible place in regards to it's scenery. Cappadocia's distinctive landscape is the product of volcanic ash deposited by ancient, now dormant volcanoes. Over the centuries, wind, rain, and rivers have sculpted the rock into a variety of surreal forms, including the famous "fairy chimneys. "Distinctive" is probably too light of an adjective to describe this place. I've never seen any naturally formed scenery that comes even close to this place. My descriptions and even my pictures cannot do it justice. It's like a hopped up version of the Badlands, literally the Badlands on psychedelic drugs. Pardon the blasphemy, but I wouldn't be surprised if God had been tripping balls when he sculpted Cappadocia. Here's a few photos to give you just the palest sense of this place:
Goreme: City in the Rocks
Ash Rock Spires
I love this place. We've only been here for two days and I could certainly use some more time here. Taking pictures, scrambling up and down ash rock faces, hiking, exploring: it's all been freaking awesome, and I only wish we could stay here longer.
Now, onto the account of my freak out. On our first day in Cappadocia, we visited an underground city built by early Christians. When Arabs and Mongols mounted attacks on the ancient Christian towns of Cappadocia, Christian residents would retreat into these underground strongholds for protection. I'm not a brutish Mongol warrior or a fierce Arab fighter, but I am a big dude, and I'm usually a pretty daring fellow. However, I had a damn tough time braving my way through those caves. I am proud to say that I made it through our entire tour, but I'm embarrassed to admit that I griped and whined the whole way. During the tightest squeezes, I had to crouch down to my knees with my shoulders rolled over and my arms held tight to my chest. In this hunched pose, I shuffled my way through the narrow passages, praying with every panicky breath that the roof of the passage would hold up until I had passed. My heart was racing, my breath was ragged; I felt like I was on the edge of passing out; I scraped my head and shoulders multiple times; I was convinced that the exit tunnels would collapse leaving me trapped four stories down into the earth. If I was 20 years older, I would've had a heart attack. My refrain for the day was, "I don't like this. I don't like this. Not cool. God, I don't like this. I'm freaking out, man. I'm freaking out!" etc. etc. And imagine that refrain sung in a voice soaked with panic, cracking all over the place, tense as steel cable pulled taut between two John Deere tractors. Here's a set of pics from down in the caves, just to give you an idea of what I was dealing with:
Squattin' (I may look happy, but let me assure you, that's sheer panic you're seeing in my eyes)
Tight Squeeze
The Group Ducking Down (I'm over a head taller than everyone in this photo. Needless to say, my neck was craned all the way over the whole time we were down in the caves)
Well, I did survive and I did learn something new about myself as far as phobias go. I'll tell you this though; I will not be going back down into any underground cities for a long, long time. My experience didn't kill me, it probably didn't make me any stronger, but it did make me a bit smarter. Now I know that I need to avoid close quarters of the underground variety at all costs. I'm lucky I'm young. There's no way I could've made it through that damn place if I was 40.
Until next time (barring my death in an underground cave collapse),
Your Favorite Luker
Thursday, September 23, 2010
My Turkish Excursion
What's up all,
I'm hanging out in the lobby of the Richmond Hotel in Pammukale, Turkey, home to a wide expanse of famous mineral bluffs. In a few minutes, we'll set off to explore the bluffs for the morning; hopefully we can take a swim in the mineral hot springs up there, weather and site guards permitting. I would like to write a longer post, but I'm short on time, so I think I'll just resort to cutting and pasting my most recent post for the TIME group blog. Enjoy! Also, don't forget to check out my photo blog if you have a hankering to look at some half-decent photos:
Luker Around the World
Here's the blog post:
Greetings from Kuşadasi, on the shores of the Aegean Sea!
We've just finished the fourth day of our Turkish excursion, but it certainly feels as if we've been on the road for much longer. Spending hour after hour on a cramped, knee-crushing tour bus will tend to stretch out your sense of time. Apart from the hassles of large-group transportation, so far, the trip has been amazing, full of new experiences and moderately sketchy adventures (e.g. swimming in the Aegean Sea at night, hiking through ancient ruins, maybe wandering out of bounds and getting whistled at by a security guard, etc.). Many of us were sad to leave Istanbul, which proved to be a fascinating, exciting city to experience and explore.
On Sunday, our first day of excursion, we spent over 7 hours on the bus in transit from Istanbul to our various tour sites and to our final destination in the fishing village of Assos where we spent Sunday night. First, we visited the battlefields and graveyards of Galipoli on the shores of the Dardanelles. Galipoli was beautiful, somber, and surprisingly intense. From Galipoli, we traveled for several hours to the alleged site of the ancient city of Troy, the famous city of Homer's Iliad. To be honest, Troy was a bit underwhelming. The remaining structures are in poor shape despite ongoing excavation efforts. All of it seemed a bit dingy: we expected something epic, but unfortunately, the real Troy failed to live up to the epic expectations set by the Iliad.
After our first day of excursion, we bunked down in the town of Assos, a charming, peaceful fishing village on the shores of the Aegean. Aristotle lived in Assos for a number of years circa 350 BC, and he even established an academy there. St. Paul also visited Assos on his third missionary expedition through Asia Minor between 53-57 AD. Thanks to Professor Langerak for all of the historical background relayed in this post (even though we don't have any class during excursion, we're still managing to learn a bit)! The entire group took a late night swim in Assos, which was a wonderful experience for us. Hopefully we didn't encroach to much upon the peace and quiet of our fellow guests...
Many of us were sad to leave Assos. Our current accommodations at the Batihan Beach Resort in Kuşadasi are far from charming. In fact, it might be safe to say that the Batihan is the complete antithesis to charm, peace, and quiet. This place is like a cheap, trashy, dingy, Mexican-esque, Miami Beach rip-off for vacationing Europeans. So far, we haven't been able to find a single non-fluorescent light in the hotel; the whole place is bathed in a sickly light. This place is like the J.C. Penny's of hotels; everyone seems desperate and there's way too much going on. It would make a perfect setting for a creepy murder mystery novel or a grade B horror/slasher flick. In short, the place gives all of us the "heebie-jeebies". We are all sick and tired of eating at the greasy, gluttonous buffet, getting stuck in the elevators with scantily clad grandparents, walking across the thin beach littered with more cigarette butts than sand, and listening to the incessant, Euro-trash techno house music, which blares from the poolside speakers long into the night. Needless to say, we are all excited to move out of here.
In spite of the shadiness of our current hotel, our tours over the last three days have been excellent. On Monday, we visited Pergamon, an ancient Greek city located 16 miles (26 km) from the Aegean Sea on a promontory overlooking the north side of the river Caicus modern day Bakircay. Pergamon was very cool. Check out this picture of our group gathered at the acropolis of Pergamon!
After Pergamon, we traveled a short distance to the Asclepion, an ancient medical center where patients received basic psychosomatic treatments. The "doctors"/faith healers of the Asclepion employed a variety of psychological techniques including whispering subliminal messages and interpreting the dreams of their patients. The success rate of the Asclepion was said to be very high, but Professor Langerak pointed out that the center would only accept patients that had a good chance of being cured. Here's a picture of the main grounds of the Asclepion!
Yesterday (Tuesday), we visited three different sites including Priene, Miletus, and Didyma. Alexander the Great lived in Priene for a number of years. The city is built on steep slopes that used to overlook the Aegean Sea before the sea receded to its current shores.
After Priene, we traveled across the valley of the Maeander River to Miletus, an ancient port city that used to be one of the wealthiest cities in the entire Greek empire before the Persian invasion. Miletus was also the home city of some of the first Greek philosophers including Thales, Anaximander, and Anaximinies. Here are some pictures of the stadium at Miletus, which used to host plays and gladiator games!
For the last leg of our Tuesday tours, we visited Didyma, home to an incredible temple to the Greek sun god, Apollo. We'll let the pictures speak for themselves; the place was unbelievably preserved and insanely huge.
But, our adventure today might prove to be one of the best highlights of our entire semester, or at least of our time in Turkey. We spent the day cruising the Aegean Sea on a private yacht, taking long swims in pure blue water, leaping into the water from 25+ feet up on the top of our ship, snorkeling, lounging under the sun on the top deck, sprawled out over piles of soft pillows. In a word, today was sublime. Some of us may have swallowed too much saltwater, and some of us might have failed to apply enough sunscreen, but apart from some sore stomachs and burnt shoulders, today was pretty close to perfect.
Tomorrow morning, we leave the awful Batihan Resort for another long day of touring to Ephesus, Pamukkale, and Aphrodisias. We'll spend tomorrow night in Konya followed by two nights (Friday and Saturday) in Cappadocia. Excursion has been most excellent so far, and even the hangups and annoyances of long bus rides and seedy hotels will eventually morph into hilarious stories; if we can escape Batihan without getting axe-murdered by a Euro-trash serial killer sporting a mullet and a Speedo, it'll be pretty easy to look back and laugh about our brief stay in beach resort Hell.
Until next time,
Your Favorite Luker
I'm hanging out in the lobby of the Richmond Hotel in Pammukale, Turkey, home to a wide expanse of famous mineral bluffs. In a few minutes, we'll set off to explore the bluffs for the morning; hopefully we can take a swim in the mineral hot springs up there, weather and site guards permitting. I would like to write a longer post, but I'm short on time, so I think I'll just resort to cutting and pasting my most recent post for the TIME group blog. Enjoy! Also, don't forget to check out my photo blog if you have a hankering to look at some half-decent photos:
Luker Around the World
Here's the blog post:
We've just finished the fourth day of our Turkish excursion, but it certainly feels as if we've been on the road for much longer. Spending hour after hour on a cramped, knee-crushing tour bus will tend to stretch out your sense of time. Apart from the hassles of large-group transportation, so far, the trip has been amazing, full of new experiences and moderately sketchy adventures (e.g. swimming in the Aegean Sea at night, hiking through ancient ruins, maybe wandering out of bounds and getting whistled at by a security guard, etc.). Many of us were sad to leave Istanbul, which proved to be a fascinating, exciting city to experience and explore.
On Sunday, our first day of excursion, we spent over 7 hours on the bus in transit from Istanbul to our various tour sites and to our final destination in the fishing village of Assos where we spent Sunday night. First, we visited the battlefields and graveyards of Galipoli on the shores of the Dardanelles. Galipoli was beautiful, somber, and surprisingly intense. From Galipoli, we traveled for several hours to the alleged site of the ancient city of Troy, the famous city of Homer's Iliad. To be honest, Troy was a bit underwhelming. The remaining structures are in poor shape despite ongoing excavation efforts. All of it seemed a bit dingy: we expected something epic, but unfortunately, the real Troy failed to live up to the epic expectations set by the Iliad.
After our first day of excursion, we bunked down in the town of Assos, a charming, peaceful fishing village on the shores of the Aegean. Aristotle lived in Assos for a number of years circa 350 BC, and he even established an academy there. St. Paul also visited Assos on his third missionary expedition through Asia Minor between 53-57 AD. Thanks to Professor Langerak for all of the historical background relayed in this post (even though we don't have any class during excursion, we're still managing to learn a bit)! The entire group took a late night swim in Assos, which was a wonderful experience for us. Hopefully we didn't encroach to much upon the peace and quiet of our fellow guests...
Many of us were sad to leave Assos. Our current accommodations at the Batihan Beach Resort in Kuşadasi are far from charming. In fact, it might be safe to say that the Batihan is the complete antithesis to charm, peace, and quiet. This place is like a cheap, trashy, dingy, Mexican-esque, Miami Beach rip-off for vacationing Europeans. So far, we haven't been able to find a single non-fluorescent light in the hotel; the whole place is bathed in a sickly light. This place is like the J.C. Penny's of hotels; everyone seems desperate and there's way too much going on. It would make a perfect setting for a creepy murder mystery novel or a grade B horror/slasher flick. In short, the place gives all of us the "heebie-jeebies". We are all sick and tired of eating at the greasy, gluttonous buffet, getting stuck in the elevators with scantily clad grandparents, walking across the thin beach littered with more cigarette butts than sand, and listening to the incessant, Euro-trash techno house music, which blares from the poolside speakers long into the night. Needless to say, we are all excited to move out of here.
In spite of the shadiness of our current hotel, our tours over the last three days have been excellent. On Monday, we visited Pergamon, an ancient Greek city located 16 miles (26 km) from the Aegean Sea on a promontory overlooking the north side of the river Caicus modern day Bakircay. Pergamon was very cool. Check out this picture of our group gathered at the acropolis of Pergamon!
After Pergamon, we traveled a short distance to the Asclepion, an ancient medical center where patients received basic psychosomatic treatments. The "doctors"/faith healers of the Asclepion employed a variety of psychological techniques including whispering subliminal messages and interpreting the dreams of their patients. The success rate of the Asclepion was said to be very high, but Professor Langerak pointed out that the center would only accept patients that had a good chance of being cured. Here's a picture of the main grounds of the Asclepion!
Yesterday (Tuesday), we visited three different sites including Priene, Miletus, and Didyma. Alexander the Great lived in Priene for a number of years. The city is built on steep slopes that used to overlook the Aegean Sea before the sea receded to its current shores.
After Priene, we traveled across the valley of the Maeander River to Miletus, an ancient port city that used to be one of the wealthiest cities in the entire Greek empire before the Persian invasion. Miletus was also the home city of some of the first Greek philosophers including Thales, Anaximander, and Anaximinies. Here are some pictures of the stadium at Miletus, which used to host plays and gladiator games!
Group in the Miletus Stadium
Miletus Stadium
For the last leg of our Tuesday tours, we visited Didyma, home to an incredible temple to the Greek sun god, Apollo. We'll let the pictures speak for themselves; the place was unbelievably preserved and insanely huge.
Front steps of the Temple to Apollo
Inside the Temple to Apollo
But, our adventure today might prove to be one of the best highlights of our entire semester, or at least of our time in Turkey. We spent the day cruising the Aegean Sea on a private yacht, taking long swims in pure blue water, leaping into the water from 25+ feet up on the top of our ship, snorkeling, lounging under the sun on the top deck, sprawled out over piles of soft pillows. In a word, today was sublime. Some of us may have swallowed too much saltwater, and some of us might have failed to apply enough sunscreen, but apart from some sore stomachs and burnt shoulders, today was pretty close to perfect.
Tomorrow morning, we leave the awful Batihan Resort for another long day of touring to Ephesus, Pamukkale, and Aphrodisias. We'll spend tomorrow night in Konya followed by two nights (Friday and Saturday) in Cappadocia. Excursion has been most excellent so far, and even the hangups and annoyances of long bus rides and seedy hotels will eventually morph into hilarious stories; if we can escape Batihan without getting axe-murdered by a Euro-trash serial killer sporting a mullet and a Speedo, it'll be pretty easy to look back and laugh about our brief stay in beach resort Hell.
Until next time,
Your Favorite Luker
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
(Last) Week in review
This past week (as in last week ((I've been a bit behind on the blog posting)), was an interesting exercise in contrast. Last Monday night, September 6th, my group and I ventured out to Ataturk Olympic Stadium on the western side of Istanbul, the site of U2's first concert in Turkey, which is surprising in light of the hip-prestige and cultural richness of Istanbul and the supposed global awareness of the band (more to come on that later). Getting there took us over 3 and a half hours as we struggled to navigate bus routes, trams, metrobuses, and taxi buses, so many (insert expletive) buses, of every possible shape and size, but still every one of them way too (insert expletive) crowded, and all of the public transportation in this sprawling city seeming to be especially susceptible to Istanbul's awful traffic; giant buses can't duck and weave like the crazy taxis that come so close to running us down at every crosswalk, even when we have the light. On a side note: I'd still love to drive in this city where traffic laws seem to be open to interpretation depending on the speed of the car and the skill of the driver. We waited for shuttles to the concert for at least an hour and a half, shuttles of dubious existence, or at least shuttles that remained very poorly marked, nothing but one tiny U2 poster plastered on their fronts to indicate their destination.
But the winds of fortune, or at least the bus-exhaust fumes of luck, were at our backs, filling our sails with serendipitous smog. In spite of the transportation difficulties, we managed to make it to the concert with plenty of time to spare. We worked our way to the front of the sparse crowd until our entire group, or at least the 10 of us who chose to go, were within 30 yards of the stage. I thought the concert had been drastically undersold because the vast stadium was barely a quarter full, and the soccer pitch, tiled over with metal panels to protect the grass, not even close to a third of its capacity. But, as soon as Snow Patrol took the stage, the crowd had swelled, spreading across the floor and the stands, over 55,000 Turks and foreigners all there to enjoy one of the biggest bands in the world. I'm not even that big of a U2 fan. I love all of Joshua Tree and can dig on many of their singles, but I wouldn't rate them very high on the list of my favorite artists. They probably wouldn't even crack the top 40 on such a list. Nonetheless, U2 put on an amazing show. Their 360 degree stage is by far the most insane stage I've ever seen, four giant claw-legs, like the legs of a giant praying mantis, or the landing gear of an alien ship, rising up to support 360 degrees of LCD screens, cameramen and spotlights hanging from every leg to cover every angle of the show, lights, smoke, all of it coordinated to perfection. I've seen more passionate, compelling, and musically interesting performances, but I've never seen a show executed with more precision. Phenomenal. I will never forget belting out "Where the Streets Have No Name", going hoarse, tearing my voice apart in rough, out-of-tune unison with thousands of Turks. (Insert expletive of the F***ing variety here) PHENOMENAL. And as we left, all of us Oles sang the "Um Ya Ya" rouser as loud as we could, getting many strange, amused, and entertained looks from the mass of the crowd surrounding us on the way to the exits. Seeing U2 was easily the first huge highlight of the trip.
And now for the contrast. Last Wednesday, our group decided to fast in observance of the final day of Ramadan, the Islamic holy month during which pious Muslims fast every day from sunrise to sunset for one lunar month. I went 24 hours without food and over 20 hours without water. All I can say is that I'm glad I'm not an observant, pious Muslim. It was supposed to be an experience of "cross-cultural awareness", an expression of solidarity with Turkish Muslims, an endeavor of forbearance, an effort to see what it feels like to be an observant Muslim. Mainly, I just felt tired, irritable, weak, and obviously hungry. I can't even say that breaking fast was anti-climactic because I didn't feel even the slightest shred of anticipation or excitement. I just felt deadened and annoyed. Probably should've taken the advice of our TA, Deniz; she was pretty baffled when we told her we were planning to fast for the day. Why would American students do such a thing? Indeed, her doubt proved to be somewhat prescient. The experience was a total flop. We had planned to break fast in a public square, breaking bread with Turkish Muslims in celebration of the end of their holiest month. Unfortunately, when we got to the Hippodrome in the Old City, we were unable to find any public sharing of Iftar (the feast shared after breaking fast). Hungry and tired, our group hustled away from the Hippodrome to a restaurant on a random side street. We shuffled into a private room large enough to accommodate our sizable group, and then we proceeded to scarf down our first meal of the day as quickly as possible, appetite for food satiated, but appetite for the experience of a different culture left completely unsatisfied.
In retrospect, I'm not surprised at my reaction to my fasting day. Indeed, I can see now that my expectations were unreasonable and naive. Profound, memorable instances of cross-cultural awareness will never emerge from contrived, one-day efforts, like trying to fast on one day of Ramadan with the rest of my American, and with the exception of one student, my non-Muslim peers. Perhaps fasting would've been a more satisfying experience of foreign culture if we had done it in Morocco or Egypt; Turkey is far more secularized then either of our future destinations. But, I can't help but think that fasting was a doomed endeavor
Maybe I'm being too narrow-mined about this. I might have let my hunger get the best of me. But, to be honest, I still don't feel as if I gained anything significant from the experience of fasting. Honestly, the whole project of deliberate cultural immersion seems entirely foolish to me. I should strive to travel as I strive to live: remaining true to myself, being there and being me, not trying to force myself into situations, content to let things happen as they will, ready to explore and learn, but patient enough to let the experiences come to me. I will never know what it's like to be a Turk, or a Moroccan, or an Egyptian. I can only hope to get a brief, admittedly superficial impression of their mindset and culture. I'm not going to be in any of these places long enough to really burrow in to that deeper level of cross-cultural understanding.
Now, to get to the main point of this post, I want to compare my experience at the U2 concert with my day of fasting for Ramadan. At first glance, it might seem obvious that fasting would yield the better cross-cultural experience. After all, fasting is an integral part of Muslim life. On the other hand, U2 had never played a concert in a Muslim country before Monday night's show in Istanbul. U2 is an Irish band, probably with Catholic roots, one of the biggest, most global bands in the world, at least in terms of their popularity (I remain skeptical in regards to their supposed global awareness. At one point in the concert, Bono tried to recount his meeting with a very unpopular Turkish politician, but he was drowned out by the boos of the crowd. I thought that was pretty hilarious). Going to see them was probably one of the least authentically "Turkish" things we could have done on this trip. Nonetheless, I will not hesitate to admit that I felt a much more profound connection with my fellow Turkish concert-goers as we sang those songs together, putting our arms around each other during the choruses, swaying and clapping hands in unison, yelling conversations to each other in stilted English from them and meager Turkish/English from me, all of us totally elated to be at the show and excited to share it together. Compared to the U2 concert, breaking Iftar was a damn joke, a complete downer in regards to connecting with individuals from a different culture.
I do need to qualify my comparison a bit. I am aware that the U2 concert was not an example of authentic Turkish culture. But, it was certainly a priceless experience of cross-cultural connection. Comparing my concert experience to my Iftar experience has provided me with some interesting insights. First of all, I now think that it is ridiculous to draw lines demarcating "authentic" culture and "inauthentic" culture. Cultures are messy concepts. They change constantly as new influences and trends move from culture to culture. As our societies continue to tangle up with each other in the inevitable spread and inherent interweaving of globalization, determining the authenticity of cross-cultural experiences will become increasingly irrelevant.
Furthermore, as we strive for "cross-cultural awareness" (whatever that actually means) we will always encounter insurmountable limits at some point in our exploration. In the end, there will be aspects of other cultures, whether those aspects manifest as assumptions, traditions, or worldviews, aspects that we are fundamentally incapable of understanding. Ultimately, I will never truly know what it is like to be a Turk, or a Moroccan, an Egyptian, or an Israeli. I would have to live an entire life in another culture to know what it is truly like to be a person from that culture. But, it remains obvious that total cultural understanding is not the project we are hoping to accomplish. That would be an impossible task. Nonetheless, I am convinced that admitting the limits of our understanding in regards to cross-cultural awareness will be exceedingly important if we are to avoid falling into the naive, arrogant, premature judgments, which color us against foreign cultures. However, admitting limits does involve a further risk. Even though we should identify and acknowledge the limits in our understanding, we should not allow anticipation of these limits to excuse us from our efforts to understand and connect with individual cultures. That would be a grave mistake. We should only admit our ignorance in order to avoid making arrogant, ill-informed assumptions and judgments.
Lastly, I think it's absurd to think that we can get to know "a culture". That's impossible. We can only meet cultures by meeting and connecting with individual representatives of foreign cultures. In the context of my own U2 vs. Iftar experience, the U2 concert yielded multiple personal connections with fellow Turkish concertgoers, while breaking fast did not lead to a single personal encounters with even any of our fellow fasters. In fact, our group did not meet a single person as a result of fasting.
As far as I can see it, this contrast in my experiences points to one overarching implication. Cross-cultural connection, which is the most important prerequisite for "cross-cultural awareness", will always find its roots in the ground of common, familiar experience. People are best equipped to encounter each other in familiar settings, or at least in the context of familiar, shared cultural references, meeting in the expanse of popular, global culture. Even though I am loathe to admit it, U2 is a perfect example of the type of common cultural reference point we nee to resort to in order to bridge the gaps separating distant cultures. I admit that it's somewhat lame, surely a cop-out of sorts, but it's an expedient, effective strategy, and it's really the only option we have when we're only in a country for a month or so.
It's clear to me that we need to meet foreign individuals on the common grounds of experience (i.e. going to the concerts of internationally famous bands, shooting the shit about global popular culture). From these grounds, we can attempt to forge solid connections with each other. Once these connections are forged, we might be able to move on to "deeper" cultural experiences, but I still believe that breaking ground on the "common ground" will prove to be the pivotal first-step in all of our endeavors to achieve greater cultural awareness. In light of my experiences last week, I am comfortable with welcoming the changes of globalization. Indeed, globalization will lead to expansion of the common grounds of cultural references and popular culture, and it's clear that we can lay down more connective roots between cultures if we have more common ground to work with. I used to be afraid that increasing globalization would lead to the homogenization of distinct cultures, and the endpoint of this progression would be the elimination of distinct cultures. All humans would be united under a single common culture, and this culture would defined by complete, homogeneous blandness, devoid of the cultural differences that make life interesting. I can't imagine a more boring world; such a world would be unbearably boring, insanely boring, impossibly boring, but frighteningly possible, and perhaps even probable.
My fears might be unfounded. Cultures have died before; they have vanished from this earth, leaving behind nothing more than a few shards of pottery, or maybe some crude stone tools, or, if the archaeologists are really lucky, perhaps even bizarre idol to a forgotten fertility goddess survived the stress of time, all of these meager artifacts enduring through the millennia to give us proof for the brief existence of the dead culture in question. Perhaps all cultures will die off if we give them enough time. But, questions of the far future are obviously beyond the bounds of our current discussion. I still think most people are proud of their cultures, proud enough to commit to the preservation and practice of the traditions that constitute their cultural identities. For now, we do live in a world of diverse cultures. We should not allow globalization to eliminate this diversity, but we should welcome some of the changes globalization can bring, especially the changes that result in an expansion of the common ground. If we hope to achieve some humble measure of cross-cultural awareness, we need to realize the importance of references shared by distant cultures. Indeed, connections between cultures are staked out in the bounds of these common grounds.
Whew...apologies for that post...way too long and way too full of random tangents. But, above all else,I hoped you enjoyed it, I hope you think about what I've said, I hope you consider my arguments in light of your own experiences, and I dearly hope that you will respond with some responses on my comment board!
Until next time,
Your Favorite Luker
But the winds of fortune, or at least the bus-exhaust fumes of luck, were at our backs, filling our sails with serendipitous smog. In spite of the transportation difficulties, we managed to make it to the concert with plenty of time to spare. We worked our way to the front of the sparse crowd until our entire group, or at least the 10 of us who chose to go, were within 30 yards of the stage. I thought the concert had been drastically undersold because the vast stadium was barely a quarter full, and the soccer pitch, tiled over with metal panels to protect the grass, not even close to a third of its capacity. But, as soon as Snow Patrol took the stage, the crowd had swelled, spreading across the floor and the stands, over 55,000 Turks and foreigners all there to enjoy one of the biggest bands in the world. I'm not even that big of a U2 fan. I love all of Joshua Tree and can dig on many of their singles, but I wouldn't rate them very high on the list of my favorite artists. They probably wouldn't even crack the top 40 on such a list. Nonetheless, U2 put on an amazing show. Their 360 degree stage is by far the most insane stage I've ever seen, four giant claw-legs, like the legs of a giant praying mantis, or the landing gear of an alien ship, rising up to support 360 degrees of LCD screens, cameramen and spotlights hanging from every leg to cover every angle of the show, lights, smoke, all of it coordinated to perfection. I've seen more passionate, compelling, and musically interesting performances, but I've never seen a show executed with more precision. Phenomenal. I will never forget belting out "Where the Streets Have No Name", going hoarse, tearing my voice apart in rough, out-of-tune unison with thousands of Turks. (Insert expletive of the F***ing variety here) PHENOMENAL. And as we left, all of us Oles sang the "Um Ya Ya" rouser as loud as we could, getting many strange, amused, and entertained looks from the mass of the crowd surrounding us on the way to the exits. Seeing U2 was easily the first huge highlight of the trip.
And now for the contrast. Last Wednesday, our group decided to fast in observance of the final day of Ramadan, the Islamic holy month during which pious Muslims fast every day from sunrise to sunset for one lunar month. I went 24 hours without food and over 20 hours without water. All I can say is that I'm glad I'm not an observant, pious Muslim. It was supposed to be an experience of "cross-cultural awareness", an expression of solidarity with Turkish Muslims, an endeavor of forbearance, an effort to see what it feels like to be an observant Muslim. Mainly, I just felt tired, irritable, weak, and obviously hungry. I can't even say that breaking fast was anti-climactic because I didn't feel even the slightest shred of anticipation or excitement. I just felt deadened and annoyed. Probably should've taken the advice of our TA, Deniz; she was pretty baffled when we told her we were planning to fast for the day. Why would American students do such a thing? Indeed, her doubt proved to be somewhat prescient. The experience was a total flop. We had planned to break fast in a public square, breaking bread with Turkish Muslims in celebration of the end of their holiest month. Unfortunately, when we got to the Hippodrome in the Old City, we were unable to find any public sharing of Iftar (the feast shared after breaking fast). Hungry and tired, our group hustled away from the Hippodrome to a restaurant on a random side street. We shuffled into a private room large enough to accommodate our sizable group, and then we proceeded to scarf down our first meal of the day as quickly as possible, appetite for food satiated, but appetite for the experience of a different culture left completely unsatisfied.
In retrospect, I'm not surprised at my reaction to my fasting day. Indeed, I can see now that my expectations were unreasonable and naive. Profound, memorable instances of cross-cultural awareness will never emerge from contrived, one-day efforts, like trying to fast on one day of Ramadan with the rest of my American, and with the exception of one student, my non-Muslim peers. Perhaps fasting would've been a more satisfying experience of foreign culture if we had done it in Morocco or Egypt; Turkey is far more secularized then either of our future destinations. But, I can't help but think that fasting was a doomed endeavor
Maybe I'm being too narrow-mined about this. I might have let my hunger get the best of me. But, to be honest, I still don't feel as if I gained anything significant from the experience of fasting. Honestly, the whole project of deliberate cultural immersion seems entirely foolish to me. I should strive to travel as I strive to live: remaining true to myself, being there and being me, not trying to force myself into situations, content to let things happen as they will, ready to explore and learn, but patient enough to let the experiences come to me. I will never know what it's like to be a Turk, or a Moroccan, or an Egyptian. I can only hope to get a brief, admittedly superficial impression of their mindset and culture. I'm not going to be in any of these places long enough to really burrow in to that deeper level of cross-cultural understanding.
Now, to get to the main point of this post, I want to compare my experience at the U2 concert with my day of fasting for Ramadan. At first glance, it might seem obvious that fasting would yield the better cross-cultural experience. After all, fasting is an integral part of Muslim life. On the other hand, U2 had never played a concert in a Muslim country before Monday night's show in Istanbul. U2 is an Irish band, probably with Catholic roots, one of the biggest, most global bands in the world, at least in terms of their popularity (I remain skeptical in regards to their supposed global awareness. At one point in the concert, Bono tried to recount his meeting with a very unpopular Turkish politician, but he was drowned out by the boos of the crowd. I thought that was pretty hilarious). Going to see them was probably one of the least authentically "Turkish" things we could have done on this trip. Nonetheless, I will not hesitate to admit that I felt a much more profound connection with my fellow Turkish concert-goers as we sang those songs together, putting our arms around each other during the choruses, swaying and clapping hands in unison, yelling conversations to each other in stilted English from them and meager Turkish/English from me, all of us totally elated to be at the show and excited to share it together. Compared to the U2 concert, breaking Iftar was a damn joke, a complete downer in regards to connecting with individuals from a different culture.
I do need to qualify my comparison a bit. I am aware that the U2 concert was not an example of authentic Turkish culture. But, it was certainly a priceless experience of cross-cultural connection. Comparing my concert experience to my Iftar experience has provided me with some interesting insights. First of all, I now think that it is ridiculous to draw lines demarcating "authentic" culture and "inauthentic" culture. Cultures are messy concepts. They change constantly as new influences and trends move from culture to culture. As our societies continue to tangle up with each other in the inevitable spread and inherent interweaving of globalization, determining the authenticity of cross-cultural experiences will become increasingly irrelevant.
Furthermore, as we strive for "cross-cultural awareness" (whatever that actually means) we will always encounter insurmountable limits at some point in our exploration. In the end, there will be aspects of other cultures, whether those aspects manifest as assumptions, traditions, or worldviews, aspects that we are fundamentally incapable of understanding. Ultimately, I will never truly know what it is like to be a Turk, or a Moroccan, an Egyptian, or an Israeli. I would have to live an entire life in another culture to know what it is truly like to be a person from that culture. But, it remains obvious that total cultural understanding is not the project we are hoping to accomplish. That would be an impossible task. Nonetheless, I am convinced that admitting the limits of our understanding in regards to cross-cultural awareness will be exceedingly important if we are to avoid falling into the naive, arrogant, premature judgments, which color us against foreign cultures. However, admitting limits does involve a further risk. Even though we should identify and acknowledge the limits in our understanding, we should not allow anticipation of these limits to excuse us from our efforts to understand and connect with individual cultures. That would be a grave mistake. We should only admit our ignorance in order to avoid making arrogant, ill-informed assumptions and judgments.
Lastly, I think it's absurd to think that we can get to know "a culture". That's impossible. We can only meet cultures by meeting and connecting with individual representatives of foreign cultures. In the context of my own U2 vs. Iftar experience, the U2 concert yielded multiple personal connections with fellow Turkish concertgoers, while breaking fast did not lead to a single personal encounters with even any of our fellow fasters. In fact, our group did not meet a single person as a result of fasting.
As far as I can see it, this contrast in my experiences points to one overarching implication. Cross-cultural connection, which is the most important prerequisite for "cross-cultural awareness", will always find its roots in the ground of common, familiar experience. People are best equipped to encounter each other in familiar settings, or at least in the context of familiar, shared cultural references, meeting in the expanse of popular, global culture. Even though I am loathe to admit it, U2 is a perfect example of the type of common cultural reference point we nee to resort to in order to bridge the gaps separating distant cultures. I admit that it's somewhat lame, surely a cop-out of sorts, but it's an expedient, effective strategy, and it's really the only option we have when we're only in a country for a month or so.
It's clear to me that we need to meet foreign individuals on the common grounds of experience (i.e. going to the concerts of internationally famous bands, shooting the shit about global popular culture). From these grounds, we can attempt to forge solid connections with each other. Once these connections are forged, we might be able to move on to "deeper" cultural experiences, but I still believe that breaking ground on the "common ground" will prove to be the pivotal first-step in all of our endeavors to achieve greater cultural awareness. In light of my experiences last week, I am comfortable with welcoming the changes of globalization. Indeed, globalization will lead to expansion of the common grounds of cultural references and popular culture, and it's clear that we can lay down more connective roots between cultures if we have more common ground to work with. I used to be afraid that increasing globalization would lead to the homogenization of distinct cultures, and the endpoint of this progression would be the elimination of distinct cultures. All humans would be united under a single common culture, and this culture would defined by complete, homogeneous blandness, devoid of the cultural differences that make life interesting. I can't imagine a more boring world; such a world would be unbearably boring, insanely boring, impossibly boring, but frighteningly possible, and perhaps even probable.
My fears might be unfounded. Cultures have died before; they have vanished from this earth, leaving behind nothing more than a few shards of pottery, or maybe some crude stone tools, or, if the archaeologists are really lucky, perhaps even bizarre idol to a forgotten fertility goddess survived the stress of time, all of these meager artifacts enduring through the millennia to give us proof for the brief existence of the dead culture in question. Perhaps all cultures will die off if we give them enough time. But, questions of the far future are obviously beyond the bounds of our current discussion. I still think most people are proud of their cultures, proud enough to commit to the preservation and practice of the traditions that constitute their cultural identities. For now, we do live in a world of diverse cultures. We should not allow globalization to eliminate this diversity, but we should welcome some of the changes globalization can bring, especially the changes that result in an expansion of the common ground. If we hope to achieve some humble measure of cross-cultural awareness, we need to realize the importance of references shared by distant cultures. Indeed, connections between cultures are staked out in the bounds of these common grounds.
Whew...apologies for that post...way too long and way too full of random tangents. But, above all else,I hoped you enjoyed it, I hope you think about what I've said, I hope you consider my arguments in light of your own experiences, and I dearly hope that you will respond with some responses on my comment board!
Until next time,
Your Favorite Luker
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