Turkey

My last act in the Middle East was to see a different face of it.

I always knew that the Gulf region, where I'd been living, was not representative of the greater Middle East. Culturally speaking, the Gulf (UAE, Saudi, Qatar, Bahrain, Kuwait) differs from the Mediterranean region (Jordan, Syria, Israel) as much as Texas differs from Canada. Throw in Iran, Egypt, Turkey – Iraq – …each a culture unto itself, and you've got yourself quite a little rainbow.

But I didn't really understand this on a gut level until I visited Turkey. Leaving the desert and all the madness of my job and stepping into Istanbul, with its trees, cool air, and kind people, was like… it was like… I can't think of a good analogy… well, it was just absolutely f#©&ing great, and we'll leave it at that.


This is the view from near my hotel. It's the Bosphorus Strait, bisecting Istanbul, slicing the city neatly between Europe in the west and Asia in the east, winding northwards into the Black Sea towards Russia and southwards into the Turkish Sea of Marmara, out again through the Dardanelles into the Aegean Sea, and onwards to the Mediterranean.

(Interesting side note: Western Istanbul is, indeed, in Europe, while the bigger eastern part of the city is in Asia. The two are connected by several bridges, one of which was recently closed down so that Serena Williams could use it to volley tennis balls with some Turkish player. Bang, into Europe; smack, back to Asia; pretty clever, isn't it? When I heard that story, I realized that one of the sub-themes of my travels has been tennis in strange places.)


Another view. You can see the Yenikapı ferryboat harbor.

Istanbul's "Old Town" is a hilly neighborhood called Sultanahmet. It could not be more lively or beautiful. My first morning there, a brilliant sunny gorgeous day, I was walking down the street near two schoolgirls, about 11 years old or so, in their cute little uniforms. Out of nowhere, they turned to me and said, "Hello!"

I thought they were trying to sell me something. I mumbled a reply.

"What's your name?" one said brightly. I told her.

"Well, have a great day, Eric!" the other one said, and they both smiled big lovely smiles as they walked away down a little side street. I was dumbfounded at first. Then I was dizzy happy.


This guy was actually watering the sidewalk. They all were doing that. I don't know why, but who am I to complain? If it ain't broke, etc.



Turkish sweets are world-famous, and justifiably so. Little confectionaries were on every streetcorner. One place had a particularly interesting little treat – figs stuffed with walnuts and sugar. It was called…


No word yet on whether it works as well as the real stuff.

Now here's an innovation that could really take off in America.


These guys are professional Juice Dudes, and together they form the Juice Brigade. They whip out little cups and squirt juice into them from hoses connected to the giant Juice Tubs they carry on their backs. Is it quality Juice, you ask? I don't know.

Near my hotel was a giant oval-shaped walking park. The oval shape, it turns out, dates back to the park's history as a Roman chariot racetrack. Smack in the middle of the oval were two Egyptian obelisks, thousands of years old, covered with hieroglyphs. All that history in one place was exhilarating for me, having just come from Dubai, where buildings from the 1990s are considered old, and a big old clunky tower from the 70s could pass for an ancient relic.




Plus, they're just so damn pretty.