Destination (Un)known.

Last week Kate and I set off on another trip together, our last being Croatia and Montenegro. This time our destination was far less warm, on a variety of levels. As well, there were maybe 70% less tourists, particularly in Armenia where I have a feeling their major source of tourism comes from: diaspora, Iranians and Russians. Armenia's an interesting case as the diaspora community is at least three times as big as the population in Armenia proper (which is roughly 3 million). The biggest centers for diaspora are in the U.S. and Russia, and much of what's been built in recent years in Armenia can be attributed to these generous (and often well-off) communities. That being said, Armenia is not a very built-up country. The capital itself, Yerevan, no matter how nice a select number of the buildings are, or how gorgeous the view of Ararat is, is not a very attractive city. It has parks, which are quite beautiful, but there's an uncomfortable feel to the place - possibly owing partially to the behaviour of the men, who gawk and yell seemingly shamelessly. It's reminiscent of behaviour we experienced in the Black Sea city of Trabzon, but we weren't expecting it in either situation and it's quite off-putting - particularly when you're alone, a pair of girls. I'll try to be a little more positive about Yerevan, by pointing out some of the highlights.

To begin with, there are some of the stunning views of Ararat. It can be seen from various areas around the city. The Armenians we met typically referred to it somewhat in terms of occupied territory - a temporary loan to Turkey. They also used humor, like one woman who went on to say that they joke in Armenia that when the view is obscured by clouds it means the Turkish soldiers' smoke-making machine is hard at work, and when it's clear it means the Turks are taking a nap. They were also very proud to relay an anecdote about an important Armenian official who replied to a Turkish general who asked why they keep Ararat in their coat of arms and art, by saying that although Ararat's not technically in Armenia right now it's not like the crescent moon is in Turkey either. Kate and I didn't typically share our living in Turkey within the first few minutes of meeting someone, although we didn't hesitate to admit it either. No one had particularly harsh words to say, although I wondered about their real feelings about the matter - living in a country that they see as such an aggressor. On a similar note, Kate and I visited the genocide memorial and museum, which was fascinating. Having visited a lot of museums dedicated to the Holocaust, it was interesting for me to see a museum dedicated to another genocide.

I was disappointed with the approach though. It seemed that their main aim was proving that the genocide happened, rather than trying to inform people about what had transpired. There are clearly reasons for this approach, but it's unfortunate as it left a lot of questions unanswered (for me). Instead of providing background information and context, they had lots of plaques dedicated to the numbers of people killed and momentos of those victims. It was more like a memorial than a museum, which is probably necessary as the primary visitors are Armenian diaspora. It was a touching place, and was in no way easy to navigate for the amount of torture you felt coming alive through photos, art and documents. After a lengthy visit inside the museum we ended up at the guest book, where I spent a considerable amount of time rifling through pages. In fact, on this trip I developed a fascination with guest book comments. At the genocide museum the last two just so happened to be in Turkish - the last expressing what great sorrow the person felt for the men, women and children whose lives were so violently taken. This is a fascinating and complicated topic, but I'll wait a few months before attempting to delve further into it.

On a more uplifting note Yerevan does appear to have some nice nightlife in the forms of an area called the Cascades (pretty well-lit man-made waterfalls), the parks and also the clubs. We also went to a local tavern and watched some Armenian musicians perform. It was excellent. They also sold the most interesting wine I've ever tasted, it felt really earthy, sweet and much thicker than normal. We had a dessert, which reminded me a lot of a Hittite meal I had tried here in Ankara - lots of raisins, dough and nuts used. Kate and I also managed to visit a few bars, one of which I literally fell into and then rapidly retreated out of. I hadn't realized that there were stairs right after the doorway, so I made a grand entrance, looked into the faces of many confused rockeresque Armenians and slowly backed out shaking my head at Kate. We went back to the one bar we trusted to be comfortable, cheap and play good music - a Beatles themed bar, where there was much less smoke and a much friendlier environment. In any case, if I were to summarize our time in Yerevan, I'd say that it was fairly confusing. There were some beautiful sights, but there was always a hint of desertion about them or conflict hidden away. We went to the national art gallery and history museums, both of which were deserted and felt highly sterile. We also visited a gorgeous blue mosque, attended to by the Iranian Embassy. Our guide hadn't wanted to take us, but at our behest we entered a gorgeous, peaceful courtyard and were then told that there are roughly 10 000 Iranians in Armenia and that the community is not well-received. Apparently, Ramadan is known as Iranian season since the wealthy Iranians flock to Yerevan, and shop at the most expensive stores (Burberry, for example) on a new main street called Northern Avenue, where Armenians can't afford to shop. In addition, apparently they often walk around in big drunken groups as alcohol in Armenia is fairly inexpensive and readily available, whereas in Iran they wouldn't have that luxury. Although Armenia as a country has good ties with many other nations, i.e. Russia and America, it seems that as a people they're bent on it being homogeneous - Christian, Armenian. On that note, I'm going to try to briefly highlight the day trips we took through the country, which basically meant seeing a lot of Monasteries and Churches.

We visited a number of Monasteries dedicated to nuns like St. Hripsime or to saints like Gregory the Illuminator (Khor Virap). Khor Virap was a fairly interesting place to visit as it's dedicated to Gregory who was kept there for 13 years for having tried to spread Christianity among other reasons (quite a long and convoluted story came out of the guide's mouth). He was eventually let out at the behest of the sister of the King. Christianity then became the official religion in 301 AD. So, an interesting little fact is that Armenia is the first ever officially Christian nation. Another interesting fact is that they still practice ritual sacrifice, for example to show thanks for a son or daughter returning home from an internship abroad. Overall, I noticed a huge amount of pagan influence in the practices. For example, their equivalent of the Pope is known as the Catholicus and he carries a staff with dragons on it, which are supposed to ward off evil spirits. At the head church of Armenia, St. Echmiadzin, we saw dragons carved all over the place as well as other interesting symbols. In terms of natural beauty the Armenians have placed their Monasteries in some very strategic places. One of the most beautiful was Noravank Church, located among hills. It also has quite a sad legacy. Supposedly it was built by an architect who was in love with a king's daughter and was told that if he could create something spectacular within two years he could have her. When the king sent his henchmen to check the place out after two years he told them that if it was stunning he had to be killed, and if it wasn't then it was no problem. It was, and he was pushed off the roof to his death.

What I learned is that in Armenia when you go sightseeing, what you're doing really is visiting churches. That being said, after coming from Georgia, which has churches at every corner (even in Tbilisi), I was surprised by how few churches were in Yerevan. At first I thought it may have to do with Soviet occupation, but then I realized that Georgia should have been in the same situation in that case. The Soviets did destroy some churches, as well as a synagogue and mosque (in Georgia - not sure about Armenia); however it doesn't explain why there would be so many more churches in Georgia as opposed to the "original" Christian nation of Armenia. In any case, my last day spent in Armenia involved visiting the countryside and churches. We went to a Monastery called Sanahin, which I thought was nice; however, it was built by "the teacher" and his student's monastery - Haghpat, I much preferred. They were both built around the 10th century, and are UNESCO World Heritage sites. While wandering around you can see why. I particularly liked exploring buildings like the dining hall, and concert hall at Haghpat where they were constructed carefully to allow for light in the right places, as well as excellent acoustics. What I found surprising about Armenian monasteries was how high the ceilings were, as well as the strange nooks and crannies we always found - most likely for defense, given the time period they were built. They all had a very sad, dark feeling to them. When I asked the guide about this sorrowful vibe, she explained that according to the Armenian Apostolic Church, when one prays it shouldn't be in a glitzy building adorned with jewels but rather in a simple, peaceful place that won't serve as a distraction. This answer satisfied me as I completely agree with the sentiment. That being said, glitzier can make for a more interesting visit. While visiting churches in Georgia it felt like there was far more to discover, due to all of the beautiful art pieces. Georgia also has the advantage of a long legacy of excellent gold smithery.

In any case, the last monasteries we visited (aforementioned ones) are located in a region called Alaverdi, which in Turkish means G-d gave. Apparently the name is derived from the beauty of the region. The most interesting aspects of this trip were the Soviet traces and as in other places, here they had constructed massive chemical factories (in valleys), which they then deserted. These chemical factories are one of the contributing factors to Armenia's having the highest rate of breast cancer in the world, and third for lung cancer - supposedly. It's horrible travelling through the lush, verdant countryside and seeing the remnants of Soviet times - abandoned eyesores scattered everywhere. One of the most poignant sights was a cable car, left dangling halfway between the top and bottom. Armenia is not a comfortable or complete-feeling country. The legacy of the Soviets is strong, and it seems like in many ways the Russians are still in power. I'll explain more in a bit, but I would venture to say that the most fascinating aspect of this trip was comparing two former Soviet states and seeing how incredibly differently they've grown (or stagnated) regardless of the additional problems they face. As well, it was enlightening to hear how positively many people in Armenia speak about the Soviet times. One final site in Armenia itself that was worth a visit is a Monastery called Akhtala. The small city itself has historically been responsible for copper and silver mining, although now that's a thing of the past. As with all of the other Armenian Monasteries visited the accompanying town is poor. The people living there are often unemployed and living way below the poverty line. The Akhtala Monastery and fortress were built around the 10th century and reconstructed in the 13th as they had fallen into disrepair. The most striking features are: the incredibly preserved frescoes inside, as well as a massive hole that goes right through the face of the Virgin Mary. Apparently during a raid the townspeople came and hid in a secret passage built into the walls, and unfortunately a baby started crying so a cannonball was shot (no idea how that would have worked, but anyway) and it just so happened to go right through her face and come out as a perfect circle on the other side (which again, makes no sense, but let's accept it regardless).

At this point I just want to mention how strange the variety of tourists we met were. Typically when you travel you meet an interesting crew of people, but when you venture off into countries fairly far off the beaten track you genuinely meet some bizarre individuals. On that last day travelling through Armenia we had a few interesting encounters. Firstly, we ended up buying bread in a town called Aparan, which was so full of pot holes I felt like we were in some perverse reality video game themed show, where we joined a crew of Armenians to wait and watch for the President. He drove through in his tinted windowed SUV, with a full entourage - never once did he wave, or step out of his car. Not a leader I could support; simple gestures make a huge difference. Some Armenians support him, because the feeling is that although he's cold and not likeable in the slightest apparently he's extremely calculating, which is ideal for a politician. In any case, the absolute strangest encounter was within our tour group. As it happens we were travelling with the former deputy Minister of Finance of Georgia, who (to me) looked more like an aspiring Russian rapper. He retired from the world of finance in order to find himself spiritually. This led to some fascinating conversation with our Armenian guide, George (Anglicized version of his name, of course). Our guide was one of the more egoistic and nationalistic people I've ever met. His arguments basically resulted in him believing himself to have convinced us of his thought process and if not, he'd drop it. His strategy involved trying to compare everything to science so that it would sound legitimate and scare us off. The "Russian rapper" wasn't having any of it and their ensuing discussion about the value of goodness, and the place of sex in religion was enthralling because neither side had any inclination of backing down. Even though I saw a man walking around a church with chicken in hand, which he was about to sacrifice, I can confidently say witnessing this conversation was quite possibly the strangest experience I had on the whole trip. It took place in a tiny trailer home in the hills of the Armenian countryside about 20 km from the Georgian border - decorated like a home from Pleasantville, with campaign posters for the upcoming election lying around; it felt unreal. To hear the "Russian rapper" explaining how there are different stages we all need to go through including an acceptance of our need for sex and then finally love; while the Armenian guide went on about how monks are able to overcome the need for sex by channeling their energy in something positive (by that he meant bible study). Interesting questions arose: should one need to isolate oneself in order to achieve a higher level of meditation, or should one be able to work on it while surrounded by distraction? Why should sex be considered a negative act? And so on... And with this last picture (which I find has an eerie quality to it), let's move onto Georgia.

Although both countries are plagued with poverty, and high unemployment (Armenia 7% and Georgia 16% - although in both countries citizens claimed it to be closer to 25-30%) - I much preferred travelling through Georgia. I felt more comfortable there, partially because of the places and partially because of the people. Perhaps because there's more tourism in Tbilisi than in Yerevan (it seems, at least) the people there weren't as interested in hassling us or even noticing us for that matter. Tbilisi itself is a really beautiful city, with many different vibes in its different neighbourhoods. We were fortunate enough to arrive on Easter weekend (Georgian Orthodox), so we started off by visiting the Sameba Cathedral, which is new and huge. Building was completed in 2004, and apparently it's the third biggest Eastern Orthodox Church in the world. We entered and observed their Easter rituals, which didn't involve a mass but rather people lining up with candles to light and then walking up to a picture, which they then kissed. They recited some prayers while at the picture and then left. The whole cathedral was full of different pictures of Jesus and Saints, which everyone was taking turns walking up to and kissing (while mumbling prayers to themselves). Although the churches were packed on Easter, and the touristy ones were packed the whole week I noticed that the Armenian churches seemed like they were much more used. What we were told is that after the Soviets pulled out, the Armenians, as a reaction to the oppression, became extremely devout. It's not just older people you'll see in church, but also a lot of youth. They're very proud of their religion, and don't take well to the Mormons and Jehova's Witnesses who were shipped in after the Soviets to try to proselytize. In any case, after we visited the Sameba Cathedral we wandered around the area a bit. To be honest, the first morning in Georgia I was not highly impressed. We were approached by an old homeless man who began pulling down his pants, while pulling out some strange blue fabric which he began rubbing (around his crotch area). Then after that, we wandered through some very grungy looking areas before we came to the Cathedral, after which we couldn't find a restaurant for ages. Heat, hunger and lack of sleep aren't a good combination when arriving somewhere new. Due to financial constraints we didn't sleep much the whole time - our flights were awkward times, and hostels aren't the quietest places for a solid night's rest. When we did find a restaurant it was superb. I had a delicious salmon lunch, with traditional Georgian vegetable dish (very tasty mix of spices) as well as an eggplant dish with walnut spread and pomegranates on top. They were very sweet at the restaurant and gave us free Easter goodies at the end, including spiced sweet bread and eggs (which were presented in grass, as is traditional there). I found people in Georgia to be very gracious, and sweet.

In addition, the food is spectacular. I had fish most days, and ate well. They have many national dishes, including khinkali (like dumplings, whose eating style Kate mastered) as well as khajapouri (like pide, except greasier and more delicious). I had no shortage of delicious dining in Georgia. Armenia was another story though - although they have an excellent international selection, the local food did not sit well with me. Anyway, in Tbilisi Kate and I were able to explore a number of beautiful areas including the Old Town, the bath district (Abanotubani) and the old fortress. It's a very nice city to wander around because the architecture is so gorgeous that at every new street you feel compelled to wander and take in what new balcony design, or colour of paint you can find. It's got such interesting balconies that there are recommended tours to just take in the variety of balcony styles and intricate workmanship. We chose not to participate, and we set our own schedule and path instead. This flexibility led us to a fortress, which I decided to climb to the top.

While Kate waited at the nearest Church just a bit below, I encountered some U.S. army men with whom I had a pretty funny exchange of words. We went off on our separate ways and I didn't think much of it until later while we were wandering in one of the hipper areas of town and we ran into them again. We ended up sitting with them for hours, eating and enjoying the nightlife. We then ended up wandering through a massive new park, exploring a newly constructed bridge and heading over to another bar district. It was an excellent encounter as it toned down my notions about military men. As it happens there are a fair number of military men in Georgia (U.S.), many of whom we ran into throughout our trip. Part of that could be attributed to our visiting the number one expat bar, which is owned by a former army woman. It's a strange life being an expat. I've come to terms with it while living in Ankara, but I think that were I to move overseas again I would possibly isolate myself more from expats at the beginning so as to immerse myself better in the local culture. I chose that method in Spain, and my Spanish flourished for it. In Turkey, I've enjoyed both time spent with locals and other expats, so I have no complaints; however, I do regret that I didn't devote more time and effort to learning academic Turkish, which could have come in handy for future professional plans. In Georgia (as in Turkey) it seems that all the expats we met were either businessmen, embassy employees, English teachers or involved in the army. Whoever they were, we enjoyed their company. That first night in Tbilisi, with our three army men in tow we visited a few bars and ended up having a fabulous time dancing with some Georgians to good old Rock 'n Roll. One of our buddies had perfected a style of dancing he called the Octopus. I maintain, we met some very interesting folk on this trip.

Some other points of interest in Tbilisi are the main avenue called Rustaveli, which is the site of the Georgian National Museum. This museum houses the Archaeological Treasury (worth a visit), and the Soviet Occupation Museum (also worth a visit). The Archaeological Treasury had some of the most gorgeous gold jewelry I've ever seen, as well as other random items like a writing set. I couldn't believe how well preserved the items were, and also how contemporaneously beautiful they still were. I would have no qualms wearing a number of the bracelets and necklaces I saw. Typically when I look at things like this, I check the dates, look at the style but don't particularly care and forget everything I've seen shortly after. This time, they really left an impression. However, it was the Soviet Museum which I took more of an interest in. It was clear while in Armenia that there's still adoration and respect for the Russians. It's spoken everywhere and learned in school. A large number of Armenians still live there, and channel a lot of money into Armenia from those areas. Even though there's still anger about religious intolerance, and other mistreatment there's an overwhelming feeling that Russia is still in control of Armenia in many ways. In Georgia, it's a completely different story. It feels much more independent. It's clear that once the Soviets were out, they began building their own society back once more - trying to distance themselves from Russian influence. It's also obvious through campaigns like "Stop Russia", which you can buy postcards of in popular stores like Prospero's bookstore on Rustaveli. Of course this is owing to the continued territory disputes regarding Abkhazia and Ossetia, which Georgia sees as occupied Georgian territory. This negative feeling toward Russians was very much reflected in the exhibits of the Soviet Museum, which had mainly momentos of victims of the regime (intellectuals and clerics). Similar to the Armenian Genocide Museum, it felt that there was a need to prove that this terror had in fact happened - a desire to show who the victims were, and who the aggressors were. Unlike the Armenian Museum, the Georgian one had context and background. They also provided us with free books that were full of information about what changes occurred, and offenses at that time. It was shocking to see just how many Georgians had been either killed or deported to Siberia. It worked out to be something like a quarter of the population (which was not a very big one). Once again though, it was the guest book which I was glued to at the end. There was a large variety of comments in the different languages I know. The strongest were generally in English, with people making statements like, "A museum is a place for mutual understanding and forgiving, not for political propaganda, I disagree highly with the messages exhibited here." Many people felt that the museum wasn't educating the visitors, but rather brainwashing them with anti-Russian sentiment. This is a fair statement considering that the last image you're left with upon leaving is a map highlighting Abkhazia and Tskhinvali Region, with a massive sign above saying "Occupation Continues". There were others though, who felt that there was no alternative method of displaying the history of what happened to the Georgians under Soviet control. As a response to the previously mentioned comment someone wrote, "Try mutual understanding with Communists. Wish you luck." My personal feeling is that when creating a museum about occupation, there's no way for it to be neutral. The best way to approach it is through context, history and then personalization - allow people to see how daily life was controlled and affected in those times by using realia. It's difficult to comment when you haven't lived it, because it's such a loaded subject - especially given the current conflicts regarding territory between Georgia and Russia, and Georgia and Azerbaijan. What I can say is that while learning, you always come to the realization that you know next to nothing and I think that's important. Travel allows you to piece together connections between nations as opposed to seeing a country in isolation. The more countries you see, the more associations you're able to build and the less prejudice you end up with (one would hope...)... My comment in the guest book? Emphasizing the role of dialogue in the resolution of conflict, as opposed to severing ties.

Georgia has a flourishing art and underground scene, as evidenced by thoughtful graffiti everywhere, as well as excellent music. Kate and I were lucky enough to hear some wonderful Georgian music live - it was varied, but always beautiful. In addition, we went to a festival concert where we heard the Tbilisi Symphony Orchestra perform Mozart, as well as a number of other famous composers' work. It's a city that's worth a visit, whether you're interested in architecture, excellent food, theatre or just wandering (there are a number of strange museums, like the doll one). I can't stress enough how much we both enjoyed our time there, including when we just sat in a cafe, chatted and drank tea. We felt calm and happy. Yerevan had some really wonderful places too, like Lover's Park or the Beatles Bar but neither of us left with the same enchanting feeling as we walked away from Tbilisi with.

As a final note, I want to suggest some day trips to do from Tbilisi. Firstly, David Gareja is well worth a visit. Although it's a horrible road out there, and the scenery isn't very appealing (it's not green, or lush, or much of anything really), the place itself is an enjoyable hike. The monastery complex was first founded in the 6th century and has flourished since. There are still monks living on site, and were celebrating Easter still when we visited - once again with candles, eggs and the sweet bread. It's beautiful and full of lizards, as well as frescoes. The place itself has been under attack by Mongols, Persians and then later was uninhabited during the Soviet reign (although it was used as a military training ground at some point too). I really enjoyed the opportunity to wander through the little caves, and see the frescoes as well as the recently lit candles. People still come to David Gareja to pray, particularly on holidays like Easter. It's an interesting site too because it's also contested territory. Technically Kate, Katie and I wandered into Azerbaijan while hiking - part of the property is in Georgia and part in Azerbaijan.

On our last day we visited a number of places including: Gori (Stalin's hometown), Uplistsikhe and Mtskheta. To begin with, in Gori we went to the Stalin museum, which hasn't been changed since Soviet times. This means that it's a house (more like a palace) full of pro-Stalin propaganda, outlining his rise to power as well as some personal information about his wives and children. Once again, there was no context and also no real mention of the victims of the regime. This is set to change as they plan on completely redoing the museum and getting rid of all of the current exhibits. I find this unfortunate. I think the most valuable option would be to leave aspects of the current exhibit the same so that people can see how it was presented under the Soviets, but add a number of exhibits to deal with the regime in general as well as the victims of it - turn parts of it into a memorial, one could say. Our guide has probably been working there for a good 30 years, and she's memorized a script, which she didn't appreciate us interrupting. Whenever one of us asked a question, she would give a slightly irritated look, usually say that she wasn't sure of the answer and then continue with her routine. We also saw the house that Stalin was born and raised in. Behind the building there's a section of the train that he used to use, since he had a fear of flying. Wherever he went it had to be on land, and this wasn't such a bad way to travel really - it had quite a spacious compartment. In Gori we also visited the fortress, which had a nice view of the city. If you visit Gori, why not hike a bit up the hill and see the layout of the place, right?

Uplistsikhe was the highlight for me as it meant a full couple hours of hiking around caves, and running up and down hills. The history is interesting, but to me just exploring the site meant more. A lot of the gold jewelry from the Treasury in Tbilisi was recovered from here, as people had been living there since the 4th century. There's also a little church, which is still in use.

Finally, if anyone is looking to do a day trip into a fairytale, I suggest Mtskheta, Georgia. It's like a real-life version of Pleasantville. The streets are all incredibly clean, and the houses have all been renovated in the old town. At the center there's a beautiful old church, which is the center of Georgian Orthodoxy apparently. This place is surrounded by beautiful hills, and it's no surprise that they found ruins suggesting human life there as long ago as 1000 BC. Who doesn't like the idea of living in paradise, right? It's also no coincidence that this place has become a hot spot for weddings. While we were there we spotted three separate wedding parties: some of which looked happy to be signing away eternity, while others closely resembled funeral processions.

I really feel that no matter how this post may have come across in terms of my judgments of both countries, I'm thoroughly pleased that I was able to visit both. There was a lot to learn in both places. I feel like Armenia surprised me a lot more in terms of the cultural facts; while Georgia surprised me since it was so much more beautiful and safer than I had expected. I think visiting 8 years ago would have been a different story, since politics has changed so much. Both countries are a lot more stable than the 'Stans', for example, but I think Georgia made a very practical decision when they chose to involve outside parties in their politics. In order to fight corruption they started looking outside for politicians (like the 28 year old Canadian Minister of Economics!), and it seems to have been a step in the right direction. Speaking to our waiter on the last night, it seems that Georgia ten years ago and Georgia now are quite different. Ten years ago muggings were extremely common, and even more people were still living in the refugee camps that dot the countryside; nowadays, people are slowly beginning to move on. Both countries have their own set of unique problems to deal with, but it's how they choose to cope that distinguishes them and also their citizens. These were two of the most surprising countries I've been to - a wealth of incredible experiences to offer and a seemingly endless array of green hills to drive through!

I should explain the rationale behind a trip to such cold countries in the coldest month of all. My original aim was Thailand, which I then realized would be impossible due to a. finances b. time constraints; so, Cynthia and I began brainstorming where to go. Our next destination was Jordan, but I only wanted to go to Jordan if we could also go to Lebanon. This time the constraint was potential death (not to be too dramatic, of course). So, once again, this was a bust. We kept pondering where to go and finally decided on UAE and Oman - it was perfect! We could couch surf (I even contacted a nice woman), it would be gorgeous t-shirt weather and in addition we'd be exploring more of the Middle East. We planned on renting a car and driving through all kinds of interesting areas; however, once we looked into the Visa in more detail, our plans were crushed. Sick of our constant failure in trying to go East, we figured we should just go West instead - a sure bet. We checked online for cheap flights, Copenhagen came up and so that was that. We had also both wanted to go to Amsterdam for a while, and I have friends in Belgium so overall it seemed ideal. In fact, it was - aside from the sub 0 temperatures.

So our trip began with Cynthia and I heading off to the airport with a private driver. We decided luxury suited us for our Western Europe voyage – spare no expenses (although to be honest, it was actually cheaper than a taxi). We arrived fairly early and had time to sit around, and in my case eat; my insatiable appetite hasn’t changed since moving to Turkey, in fact it’s grown. While eating, Cynthia pulled out her camera and much to her dismay it broke. As soon as she turned it on the lens got stuck and that was that. Her trip was off to a rocky start. After leaving the airport we set off on our short voyages to Europe. We started off with a short trip to Istanbul – roughly 1 hour. I slept. We arrived, and I managed to swindle some free dessert for us from the two young boys working at the Sbarro. This seems to have become my speciality since moving to Turkey; managing to convince people to give me free goods (particularly food).

To get back to the trip, we took our flight from Istanbul to Copenhagen and upon arrival we immediately searched for a convenient place to sleep. The chairs although qualifying as beautiful modern art were far from comfortable. We ended up trying to sleep around a few poles on an upper floor. The highlight (in a decidedly negative way)? A Danish couple who were clearly drunk decided, after making out and giggling loudly to donate their rubbish to a sleeping Japanese couple. Shortly after, I became frustrated and went off to find a bench in Burger King where we both proceeded to nap for a few hours before running off for our next flight.
Copenhagen to Amsterdam was smooth aside from the landing at which point due to the cold we had to wait for a while. What happened? The machinery froze and there was only one person on duty. We waited, arrived and were also frozen.

We arrived at the hostel and spent a while trying to straighten ourselves out sans our own rooms – basically it entailed us camping out in a hall near the bathroom and trying to get clean. Shortly thereafter we headed off in search of food. We landed at a really cute restaurant nearby, where we proceeded to go upstairs (where we had an entire section to ourselves). The highlight of the day was our visit to the Van Gogh museum, which was surprisingly interesting. It not only housed his paintings, but also sketches and artwork by other contemporaneous artists. My favourite sketch of his was of an old couple seen from behind; it was really emotionally evocative all things considered. I also enjoyed looking at his experimentation with pointillism as one of my favourite pieces of art is by Seurat. I also learned a bit about his life, including the fact that he had also lived in France and Belgium and that his brother died shortly after he did and the two were buried together. His brother’s wife apparently said it was more appropriate that way. After exploring the museum we went back to the hostel where we cleaned up before heading to the city center. After having a traditional Dutch dinner of falafel and eggplant we set off in search of some typical Amsterdam action. Suffice it to say we had a nice night involving some interesting and very talkative strangers including a British guy who tried to convince us to join a pub crawl. We decided we’d rather go for tea instead. Our Saturday night in Amsterdam ended with us drinking tea at midnight in a very chic bar/restaurant before heading back to the hostel for a very interrupted night’s sleep. It was a far cry from the misadventures people expected of us, and fortunately so for us.

Nice weather was still too much to ask for, and it was, again, freezing on Sunday. We had a delicious breakfast at the hostel before setting off for the Anne Frank Haus. I found it fascinating because I’ve done so much research into the Holocaust and museum studies. In addition, I had read the book when I was younger so it was strange to be able to in some way reconnect to my experiences as a youth trying to start broaching such immense topics. The attic itself is barren, as her father requested it stay; however, most of the house is filled up with pictures of the family, the house in the 1940s as well as information about the family. My main complaint was that I felt there should have been a better sequence of information. I think it should have begun with an introduction to the Nazi ideology, and then an overview of the Holocaust and its implications for Jewish people living in Amsterdam before dealing with the Frank family. As well, there should have been a more thorough portrait painted of who these people were and how they coped living in such a tight space together. Fortunately, when we went there was an exhibit about her mother, which was quite informative but I think that it should be permanent and expanded to include all those who lived in the attic as well as Miep Gies who helped them so much. I really appreciated that after going through the museum there was an exhibit at the end which brought all of the issues into a contemporary focus. There were television screens all around a room, which had buttons installed so that visitors would watch a short contentious clip (about the appropriacy of the head veil in schools, for example) and could then vote on their opinion at the end. A nice touch was that at the end of the vote the results were shown on the screen and compared against the total results that the museum had seen since this exhibit’s creation. After leaving the Anne Frank haus we were once again thrust into the freezing Amsterdam air. We sought solace in a cafe, where we watched some Olympic type skiing, which for some reason involved guns although nothing seemed to be hunted. I commented that it was like a test to gain citizenship for Canada. Ski past the others, kill a bear and then maybe you might be considered tough enough to be Canadian. I had some other interesting hypotheses at the time, but none were really realistic enough to be shared. We then headed back to the hostel, after an unfortunate event at a Thai restaurant, which made me highly suspicious of the Dutch. I spent a few hours in my hostel room listening to my room mates commenting on techno videos on TV. I was exhausted, so I had an excuse for lying around, but I’m not entirely sure what had brought them into such a strange situation – perhaps the cold? Let’s hope. In any case, we then went out again for a Mexican dinner – clearly another staple of Dutch cuisine. I enjoyed it, although the portions were tiny and the price was high. We followed it up with an actual Dutch dish (perhaps, the only one?) – pancakes! They really were fantastic. Due to all cafes in Europe actually being bars in disguise, we ended up surrounded by American football fans and smoke so we retreated to a romantic corner and ate our cinnamon apple pancakes in peace – far away from the Superbowl spectators.

On Monday Cynthia and I parted ways, as she was staying in Amsterdam for another two days and I was intent on exploring Belgium. I arrived safely and met my friend Bruno, whom I hadn’t seen in 6 years (when we met backpacking Australia). We went walking around Brussels, and in one day I managed to eat two Belgian waffles, as well as having about 3 separate chocolates. The food in Belgium was unbelievably good. For dinner I had a beef dish with a gingerbread sauce and stoemp on the side (mashed potatoes, Belgian style). Although the prices were high here too, the food was worth it. During our time walking around the city I saw Manneken Pis, the famous statue of the tiny peeing man, as well as his sister statue. We also visited L’ascenseur, which is basically a massive outdoor elevator, which takes you up to the Palace of Justice. From there I was able to see the whole city, including the strange statue of a magnified iron cell (named the Atomium). It didn’t fit at all, but I come from Toronto where we added massive Crystal structures onto a gorgeous old museum building (Royal Ontario Museum) – so, who am I to comment? Due to the extreme cold in Belgium (it definitely felt colder than Amsterdam), our walking tour was cut short by my desire to retreat indoors. Fortunately, Bruno’s friend led us into a bar called Delirium, which had over 2000 types of beer as well as a catalogue of all of their beers, with descriptions, which could be purchased for about 5 Euro. I had an excellent cherry beer (kriek), while my two friends had chocolate milk. Shortly thereafter, we met up with my friend Diana who lives in Antwerp. The three of us then went for dinner and had a lovely time. Bruno and I then went back to Leuven, where I stayed at a student dormitory for the night.

Tuesday we explored Ghent (the two boys and I). Although I had never heard of this city before it ended up being my favourite of the whole trip in terms of aesthetics. We visited St. Bavo’s Cathedral, which housed the biggest books I’ve ever seen in my life as well as a rhino horn. It was basically like an antique shop; it had such a large collection of oddities, which makes sense considering that it was built in the 900s. It also has a very famous piece of Belgian art, which we decided not to visit as they charged for it. Life in Belgium isn’t cheap, and visiting it even less so. As we wandered around we saw many buildings from the 1600s, which were all beautifully adorned and situated overlooking the pretty canals, which run through the city.

Finally, we found the castle – our main attraction. It was impressive, and I liked it even more because we were there at the same time as a young school group who got into an orderly line and then proceeded to charge through the front gate. I had to resist the urge to join. Who doesn’t want to join a crowd of people running and screaming for no reason? Even if they are half your size... I also had a mission while in Belgium – buy an item with Tintin on it. I grew up on Tintin, and my teddy bear is even named Snowy, so it’s unimaginable that I could go to Belgium and not buy any type of Tintin souvenir. I accomplished this mission, and also bought Cynthia a birthday card, which read “knuffles”. I knew she’d like it. We shared a chuckle over it later.

Anyway, after Ghent, we drove to Antwerp where there were enough diamonds for it to live up to its reputation. I considered buying myself an engagement ring, because when next will I be in Antwerp to buy diamonds and more importantly I don’t see anyone else buying me one anytime soon; however, upon further reflection I decided that it may look slightly odd or more precisely pathetic, particularly given the timing (a week before Valentine’s Day). We met up with Diana and the four of us went for a tasty lunch, where I successfully managed to eat chicken without getting sick (this rarely happens in Turkey).

The mall where the restaurant was located was more like a palace, and was thus aptly named. I left in a rush in order to catch my train back to Amsterdam, where I met my friend Volkan who I stayed with that night. He had moved there from Istanbul a few months prior, but was able to give me some interesting insight into what it’s like living in such a touristy town. He also had a unique perspective as he’s Turkish living in Western Europe. We went for a nice Italian dinner (I really started to doubt whether there is such a thing as a Dutch dinner), during which I managed to injure myself in the strangest possible way. The wall of a toilet paper dispenser fell open into my forehead, hitting it really hard and causing some very intense pain as well as a bruise. I recovered, and lived to tell the tale of the violent Dutch washrooms, clearly. We then went back to his house where there was still no water; due to the cold, the pipes weren’t working.

Wednesday morning, I went for a delicious last breakfast in Amsterdam to an organic coffee shop called Bagels and Beans. After which, I briefly visited a small market and then went directly to the airport. I really appreciated that everywhere I went on this trip, transportation was never an issue. There were always direct buses or metros from the airport to the city center, which although it should be expected is not necessarily the case everywhere I’ve gone. I arrived in Copenhagen without a hitch and even managed to run into Cynthia upon arrival at the (massive) hostel. We went for a delicious lunch, where I ate and she accompanied me kindly. We then visited the Copenhagen Museum of Design which was free because it was a Wednesday. We saw a really interesting Chanel exhibit including women from Scandanavia. It was slightly disturbing at times for the themes of childish innocence mixed with blatant sexuality, but some of the photos were genuinely beautiful. The exhibits at the museum were really eye-catching too, including a room filled with vibrant orange and red sofas, pictures and lamps. For dinner we went to a cute fish restaurant, and then afterwards we went to an Argentinean wine bar to watch a jazz show. Part of the appeal of Copenhagen had been that there was a jazz festival happening the week we were to visit, so clearly we had to take advantage – and I’m glad we did. We had a wonderful night together, listening to jazz and sipping some tasty Argentinean Malbec wine – La familia Barberis. We ended the night in a fairly shameful way when we tipped the band 1 kroner, which is the equivalent of about 15 Euro cents. Their currency is confusing, nothing more to be said about that.

On Thursday, we took advantage of a free walking tour, and decided to brave the cold. We learned all about the history between the various Scandanavian countries, as well as the surprisingly frequent fires which happened in Copenhagen. We visited the City Hall, as well as Tivoli, which is one of the oldest amusement parks in the world and supposedly where Walt Disney got his inspiration for his own. We also learned about resistance in World War II, and how Denmark managed to protect roughly 90% of their Jewish community. We then went to see the Palace, which consists of 4 buildings: one for the Queen, one for the King, one for one of the princes and his family and then half a building for the bachelor prince (the other half is a museum). Cynthia particularly liked the guards, as their huts looked like massive (red) Crayola pencil crayons to her. I liked them because little hearts were carved into the sides. There’s a strange trend in Copenhagen with hearts; I never figured out why they’re ubiquitous.

We passed the modern Opera House and then went for lunch – Italian food. It seems that the starter of the Carslberg brewery donated a lot of money to Copenhagen, so in his honour I tried his beer. It was delicious, and cheaper than water. Nothing was cheap though, not even a visit to the washroom – which cost roughly 2 lira. After lunch we visited The Little Mermaid, who was smaller than little. We did see a beautiful church nearby though. The highlight was a visit to Christiania, an area which declared itself independent of Denmark. The inhabitants don’t pay taxes, and also openly sell hash and weed, but the government seems to be ok with it. The only rule we encountered while there was that no photos can be taken inside the boundaries. I can understand the logic behind that. It was like being in a strange fantasy land. There were psychedelic images and colours everywhere, and the buildings were all warehouse like. The people were also fascinating to look at, although I never spoke with any of them.

On that note, I should mention that English was spoken everywhere, and it was spoken extremely well. There was never any need for me to attempt any other language – aside from in Belgium, where I chose to speak French. While in Christiania, we found a small island and decided to be adventurous so we crossed the frozen river and declared ourselves founders of a nation within a breakaway nation. I think since then it’s dissolved, but it was nice while it lasted – a peaceful existence we had. We then went to a cafe, which had great hygge, a feeling of relaxation and calm (as most cafes in Copenhagen seem to). We relaxed and chatted before venturing home. I shared the walk with an American who spent the time explaining a variety of conspiracy theories to me. I smiled, a lot. Cynthia and I then splintered off on our own and went for Mexican food (do you see a trend here?). I argued with the waitress briefly, which happened quite a bit in Copenhagen. As unfortunate as it is to say, the people there were not friendly or even particularly polite. I didn’t enjoy my interactions with them, although I really loved the city.

We ended our trip by indulging in a massive brunch at Cafe Norden. It involved salmon, cake, pancakes and even maple syrup among a plethora of other delectable edibles. We spent time people watching as our seats looked out over a gorgeous old square. We once again visited a statue of Bishop Absallon, our new idol, for nothing other than his name. We then spent the day at the National Museum where we learned about hunting, funerals, Vikings as well as the fact that apparently Danes are obsessed with bogs. Anything and anyone could have been thrown into them at any time – it was a dangerous world up there in the dark north.

We then ran over to the Jewish Museum where due to restraints such as time and money, we only visited the guest shop. Fortunately we got into a conversation with a worker there, which led us to our final stop in Copenhagen - a Synagogue on a Friday night. We joined in a lively Shabbat dinner. The place was packed, and we involved ourselves in some fascinating conversation, while also enjoying the delicious food provided (roughly 4 courses!). Time came to leave and a really nice gentleman offered to drive us back to our hostel, so we set off, gathered our things and went to the airport. We were glad to be out of the awful hostel; however, we were both really sad to see the end of our trip and the last of Copenhagen. It’s such a cool city, in so many ways. I’d just rather not go back again while the weather is so cold.

To top off my travels in 2011 I headed to Germany and Austria for a weekend getaway with two girl friends of mine. Early Saturday morning, roughly 3 am, I woke up to catch the cab we'd ordered to the airport. Our flight left Ankara at 6:15 a.m. and arrived shortly thereafter in Munich. Although exhausted upon arrival we collected our goods and set off in search of our hotel. Unfortunately, it was quite a quest. It involved the metro, which came with its own perils thanks to a system which couldn't have been more illogical if it had been created by my sister while in Amsterdam, a bus, and then a short walk. On the journey I called my friend Jonathan who had agreed to meet up with us and even take us on a day trip. He had said he'd be at the hotel at 11 am, so I was intent on not keeping him waiting. I'm slightly obsessive with punctuality, as anyone who knows me can attest to. We arrived at 10.55, and the room was not ready. Jonathan came and Eilidh and I decided to leave with him as Amy said she didn't mind waiting until the room was ready, leaving our things and grabbing the key. She didn't want to take a day trip with us, as her intention for this trip was to shop at the Christmas markets. So, we set off leaving Amy behind in Munich and ventured off toward Neuschwanstein Castle.

The drive itself was really pretty, and we had wet snow along the way. We chatted and listened to a variety of music, including German rap, which I don't plan on ever listening to again by choice. Just as we were worrying that we'd be late for picking up our tickets the castle emerged from the fog of the mountain and we drove our way up to it. It was almost as though it were a beacon of light in the mist. We collected our tickets (for the tour) and debated whether to eat, walk up to the castle or take a bus. In the end we chose to walk, which was an excellent idea. The castle itself is interesting because it was built in the late 1800s by King Ludwig II, who happened to be quite an eccentric fellow. He had spent time at nearby Hohenschwangau castle growing up, which wasn't nearly as whimsical. Upon reaching the castle at the top of the hill, it instantly reminded me of Beauty and the Beast. Supposedly, this castle was the inspiration for Disney on a number of occasions - I can believe it. Once we entered, especially, I could see how Disney had taken from the castle. There was one room in particular, which was where concerts and performances were to be held, that had a backdrop behind the stage which looked exactly like a scene out of Bambi. It was uncanny. The roof in that room was gorgeous, because it was lined with wooden squares that were all engraved. It was gorgeous, but not overdone. The rest of the castle, however, was extreme and mostly in a tacky way. It was filled with fake gems, as he'd run out of money, and also an excessive amount of patterns and images that just didn't match. I'm no interior decorator, but clearly neither was he. One interesting point is that he had designed the castle to be based on Wagner's works, whom he admired greatly. All in all, the highlights of the interior of the castle for me were his bedroom, which wasn't too large but was filled with the most intricate wooden items and designs; as well as an indoor cave. He had actually had a cave built into his home! When I have my castle built there's no question that I'm also creating an indoor cave-like den, minus the bats of course. All he needed was a waterfall and talking rabbits and it really would have been complete. Instead of rabbits, he had a minor fixation with swans, which were hidden away subtly all over the place. Not my first pick of bird, but then again I'm not a 19th century, homosexual Bavarian king.

After finishing the castle tour I was hungry and tired to the point of not being able to concentrate or walk well, and the others were in a similar state so we found a nearby restaurant and set up camp. I had the most delicious salmon pizza - quite surprising, as I've never thought of those two as coming together, or as particularly German. I also had my first Gluhwein. The first of many... We sat, and chatted and really enjoyed having the opportunity to relax and also discuss the mysterious death of Ludwig. We looked around at the buildings a bit, which were absolutely adorable. Afterwards, we left for Austria. Since we were so close to the border, and Eilidh had lived in and loved Austria we thought it would be worth a visit. I was really pushing for it as I'd never been there before. We were worried about timing, because we didn't want to be away from Amy for so long, but all in all everything worked out fine. We took a really beautiful route to get there, and an even more spectacular route out (through the Alps). We visited a town called Reutt (I believe). It was small, and one of the highlights for me was that as soon as we left the car I saw a car with a Canadian sticker so I posed for a photo not realizing there was a man in the driver seat, and his brother-in-law came out of the bank as I was posing. He inquired into my actions, and I explained my desire to be close to my people. He smiled and backed off. Shortly thereafter we spotted the Kapadokya Supermarket. Clearly, we thought, they wouldn't have much Turkish food, it would just be a cup or two of ayran and maybe some halva. We continued on our way and went to a cafe. We sat, chatted and savoured the delicious cappucinos and Austrian desserts (amazing!). One of the highlights for me was when Eilidh (who speaks German) asked the girl working there for a dessert "bir tane cikolata mit Baileys". I started laughing and repeated her order, but Eilidh was unfazed as was the girl working there. I explained that typically Austrians don't speak Turkish to my knowledge, and as luck would have it, our server was Turkish/Austrian and had been unfazed because she understood it all. Afterwards, we took off and stopped in the supermarket just for the hell of it. As it happens, it was stocked with all Turkish food. It was unimaginable the amount of specialty goods they had there. I had a brief conversation with the employee in Turkish who told me there were thousands of Turks living in this tiny town. We then drove back to the city through the most gorgeous mountains, and beside a beautiful lake - there was a lot of precipitation but that was no problem for Jonathan who was a pro driver throughout the whole journey.

We headed back to the city and met Amy at the Christmas Markets. She had had a wonderful, full day of shopping. The only problem had been the rain, which meant that her shoes and socks were sopping wet. We immediately found a restaurant, where she was able to rest for a bit. Eilidh and I had the most delicious soup, with chestnuts and goat cheese. We all laughed and ate and basically couldn't believe that we were in Munich for a weekend. After dinner we went off in search of Gluhwein, but unfortunately the stalls had stopped serving it so we found an Australian bar where we each ordered a glass. It was, however, far too crowded for our liking and I didn't appreciate having someone bump into me and spill my drink, so we took off - Gluhwein mugs in tow (except Amy, whose morals may be slightly higher than ours)...
We then found another bar, where we sat at a long table and chatted. It turns out that the men across from us were Italian so we struck up conversation with them (Eilidh had also lived in Italy and speaks Italian). I attempted to speak and learn Italian, but it ended up coming out mostly as a childlike version of Spanish. Either way we communicated well enough to enjoy ourselves.

As luck would have it, that night was the last that it was legal to drink on public transportation in Munich so a ton of teenagers had decided to throw parties all over the metros. This resulted in the metros being shut down and police slowly coming in to monitor the state of things. I found it fairly entertaining, but it was getting late so we couldn't join in. We listened to the chanting and then headed out as the cops seemed to be getting increasingly angrier. We caught a cab, which took us to another metro stop (which we assumed would be working). The driver was, of course, of Turkish descent. He was young and rambunctious. He kept asking what we were up to that night, and where we had gone the night prior. He wanted to know all about our "disco mishko" experiences. We gave him nothing. After realizing that the next subway stop also wasn't functioning we caught another cab. This man wasn't nearly as pleased with us, as we had no address or directions to get back to the hotel. He drove to the area and basically we caught a break because we had caught the bus earlier and I vaguely remembered which street to turn down and then we spotted the hotel. All in all, it was quite a jam-packed 22 hours. To top off the hectic day and our arrival at our far-off hotel, I ended up semi-sleeping on a broken cot.

The next day, we started off with a delicious breakfast at the hotel. I particularly liked the cake. You can't go wrong with German pastries, that's for sure. I had enough gingerbread, chocolate and just general dough-related product that the next few days my stomach was not too pleased with me. After breakfast we collected our things and headed to the city. Walking around with a massive backpack all day wasn't the best idea, but there was no other choice really because the hotel was out of the way and we wanted as much time as possible in the Christmas markets. It turned out to be a funny blessing in a way, because I had borrowed Cynthia's backpack so there was an Acadian flag sewed on, and a woman noticed it and asked me about it. It sparked a conversation with a group of Canadians who live in Munich and own a Canadian cafe. It turns out there is Canadian cuisine, I suppose, just not in Canada. I was able to inquire into working situations in Munich and so on... Anyway, the markets were beautiful. They were lined with really pretty tree branches, and lights and everyone just looked incredibly happy to be there. The wine probably helped that. We arrived at the markets, grabbed Gluhwein and watched a little automated puppet show on the top of a church building. We had a great day together. We wandered, looked at different crafts, ate delicious cookies and took some funny photos. I had developed a habit the night before of asking Germans, "vo is die parti?" and other related phrases, but on Sunday I decided to be calm and just smile instead. I think my friends appreciated my calm demeanor. Eilidh, on the other hand, got into a bit of trouble with a Santa Claus for taking his photo but not realizing that she needed to pay. I had also taken a photo, but darted off to the side.

We had a great day, and then sadly had to head back to the airport for our return to reality. Jonathan came to meet Eilidh and I, as Amy was shopping when he had his break (from work - at the airport). We walked, drank more Gluhwein and then parted ways. Amy had a glitch with the technology at the self-check-in and then Eilidh had a problem with "bulky" luggage for some reason, but all problems were quickly solved and we headed to the gate. We flew without event and returned back to a very cold Ankara, Turkey. A month later I'm not entirely certain that weekend really happened... I think a repeat is in order, just to be sure.

In October I headed over to South Africa to visit my family for a number of reasons, most importantly my first cousin’s wedding as well as my 25th birthday. I don’t think any trip can compare to one that’s filled with family. We started off in Swellendam, which is about three hours away from Cape Town. It was appropriate that the wedding take place there as my grandparents had lived across the Pass in Barrydale for a fair amount of time. The mountains surrounding the towns are beautiful, and the baboons within, although at times obnoxious are quite exciting for someone like me who’s not used to wild animals aside from raccoons (if they count?).

Anyway, the wedding weekend was wonderful. We woke up on the Saturday morning and used maps to find our destination. Upon arrival, I downed some gravol (motion sickness tablets) because I realized that we were going to be taking small boats to yet another surprise location. When we got there, the wedding basically took place in a cove on rocks and it was full of singing, wind and a German preacher. In the evening, I indulged in Amarula and watched my cousin learning the subtleties of German culture from our new cousin’s cousin.
During my 9 day trip there were a few national events of import. For example, the All Blacks beating the French rugby team, which many of the South Africans celebrated. As well, Cape Town (quite possibly the most beautiful city in the world) won World Design Capital for 2014. From what my cousin explained this basically means that the most creative people from all over the world will be in charge of ameliorating the city in creative ways, from transportation to social design.

On a more personal note, with my immediate family we spent time doing things like visiting the Pinelands cemetery where my grandfather, and great-grandparents are buried. Cemeteries are bizarre really. When we visited this cemetery it almost felt like we were joining a tea party, as strange as that sounds. Walking through the cemetery we pointed out the names of people my grandparents had been friendly with. It was literally like a walk down memory lane, which was appropriate considering the recent death of my grandmother. It was like a way to re-visit her too.

Due to the excessive amount of food I ate, including rusks, boerewors, and biltong some physical activity was definitely necessary. To counter the food intake I hiked a few times, including the Helderberg and Lion’s Head. I would particularly recommend the latter, as the view is stunning. You can see Clifton Beach, the Waterfront, and obviously Table Mountain. My cousin, Sean, showed me an area at the top where it’s almost like stepping stones to a little perch where you can theoretically just reflect and look out over the city. High up above everyone and not too far from the clouds, it was the perfect end to my trip.

Some of the more touristy things that we did along the way involved a trip to the Natural Museum of South African History, which had a wonderful exhibit on various African cultures including signs that pointed out the fallacy of some of the captions. I thought this was a brave step, as parts of the exhibit were indeed outdated. One of the more interesting and modern exhibits was all about cave paintings. It had information and interviews, as well as pictures. It spoke of transcendental experiences and ceremonies centered on devotion to animals. As well, I did some shopping, which was, of course, necessary considering that I can’t find shoes in my size in Turkey. Apparently, Turkish women either have small feet, or know how to hide all the well-stocked shoe stores.

Briefly, I just want to describe my birthday and then I’ll jump over to Greece and England. The night before my birthday Sara and I slept at Candice’s house near The University of Cape Town (UCT). We spent the night chatting, gossiping and watching the most memorable movie ever “The Hollow”. It amounted to a soft-core porn cum Disney flick. The next morning we spent wandering The Waterfront including the hospital where I was born, and then visited the aquarium where I learned all about an interesting project involving witch doctors and superstitions in a campaign to protect marine wildlife. I thought it was creative and efficient because apparently people are responding to this method. After our visit, we went back to Candice’s house where Sean fairly shortly after picked us up and took us on a drive around Hout Bay. All along the ride, Sean gave me a fascinating commentary about the townships that he’d visited as well as more information on his road trip to Zimbabwe. I hear horror stories on the news, but it sounded like for a visitor the risks may have been exaggerated. He told me a few rules, in case I ever decide to follow suit. I think most importantly of course don’t try to argue with police and let people take their time, whether it be in conversation or transaction. A lot of what he was saying reminded me of my life in Turkey. I’m so used to constantly rushing in Toronto that it’s taken me a while to become used to the concept of accepting an invitation to drink tea. I think it’s been a change for the good though.
Anyway, to get back to my birthday, we went to Sean’s, ate and chatted and then headed off to see Kings of Leon at Greenpoint Stadium. It was probably the most amazing way I could have turned 25. A crowd of some 40 000 odd people all screaming and cheering and jumping and waving, while my sister hitchhiked around on some old man’s back and I explained to a naïve South African that in Canada we can’t see stars because the sky is too dark, so this was my first time really seeing them. The beer probably enhanced the oddness o f our post-concert shenanigans because I ended up convincing Sean’s friend Lee that we absolutely needed a pylon. Due to it being my birthday, I would expect nothing less but full cooperation from him, and he agreed. We ran up and down the street with it and then the next morning the first thing I saw when I looked in the mirror was, naturally, a massive black smudge from where I had worn the pylon on my head. My way of ushering in 25, aided by family and friends, and not feeling a day over 15 (in the best possible way).

I couldn’t possibly have anticipated a better trip. I was able to spend time with my parents and sister who I hadn’t seen in a few months, and also see all of my cousins. In Swellendam I saw my Uncle and Aunt and then in Cape Town we spent most days with my other Uncle; I was really fortunate. We all bonded over my dad’s insanity and the gorgeous views that Erinvale had to offer. We also saw family friends who I hadn’t seen in ages. I find it funny every time I go back to Cape Town, because it’s almost like a snapshot. Each time I go it’s about 4 years apart, and we’re all at a different stage in our lives. Last time I was a University student and this time a teacher. Last time my cousin was a high school student and now she’s in University. The presents I received were telling: Sean gave me “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance” and Candice gave me “Die Antwoord” CD, while Sara treated me to a luxury day of chicken pot pies, beer and Kings of Leon. It sounds over-the-top, but it was just really nice being able to actually spend time doing nothing with them.

As for my trip to England and Greece, it wasn’t nearly as relaxing. In South Africa my parents took care of logistics, or my cousins took the reins. Upon arrival in Greece I had no voice as the two buses it took to get me there had been crowded with sick people, and the border crossing had involved what felt like an hour long waiting period in the freezing cold at 3 a.m. The bus company employee felt so bad for my pathetic, shivering self that he gave me his jacket. Thessaloniki at first glance was dirty and un-enticing. Cynthia, Brian and I went for some breakfast and in the process took in the lonely streets. We couldn’t believe how empty it was, and how hard hit their economy seemed to be considering the number of shops for sale – dirty and empty. They left for Italy, and I went in search of my hostel. I took a Greek bus, which I didn’t pay for, probably because I’m a bit too used to playing the stupid foreigner card at this point and didn’t want to try to figure out how to do it. I’m almost ashamed of how often I get away with things I shouldn’t, and how easy it’s starting to become for me to fall into the trap of doing it. It’s an addiction I’m going to have to kick sooner rather than later, because it won’t work back in Canada. In any case, I followed instructions and ended up lost and hailing a cab. The taxi driver had a horrible attitude, and drove me in circles. I requested that he stop, and I got out, at which point he tried to charge me about 5 Euros for a 5 minute drive and I refused. I offered 2.50 and he started screaming, so I gave him what I had and walked away hoping to avoid a scene. In the confusion I ran into a British girl and her Greek friend, who then promptly walked me back to her place and woke up her friend (on the phone) to tell him to google my hostel and then tell us exactly how to get there. They then walked me directly to my hostel and went off on their way. Once I was settled, I felt much better. I ventured off to visit the old city walls, and also the downtown core. Along the way I picked up a German friend named Jonathan. We visited The Rotunda, Hagia Sofia, as well as Ataturk’s House (his hometown of sorts). I think the last visit was the most entertaining for the sheer number of Turks everywhere. I felt like I was speaking more Turkish than I do in Turkey. The reason being that Kurban Bayrami was in full swing, so Greece was a close and interesting destination – we all had the same idea, clearly.

While exploring the city, including the waterfront I realized that I was quickly becoming enamored of it. The White Castle and all the restaurants along the water were somehow enchanting even though the grey skies only cleared at sunset. Our timing was strategic, as we were able to buy tickets for the Thessaloniki International Film Festival. That night we saw “Michael” – a film about a German paedophile. Before the film we went to dinner at an excellent Argentinian restaurant. As it happens, Jonathan’s father writes guide books in German for Greece, so he was definitely in-the-know about where to go. The next day involved more wandering, as well as more introductions to Turks – who happened to randomly spring up in my hostel room overnight. I was still feeling sick the next day, but I decided to go exploring the city more and we saw another movie. This time it was Lebanese, and kind of functioned as an advertisement for me to visit (in my mind at least). It was called “Ok. Enough. Goodbye”. It basically showed the life of a middle-aged man and his mother’s quest to make him independent, which involved her moving to a different city while he was at work. I’m not sure which strategy is best; leaving home after high school or waiting until marriage (if that comes). I’m pretty sure that were I to move back home for good with my parents it would be difficult for us to manage; however, that could be attributed to my having lived apart from them for a while. Nearing the end, I had some interesting conversations with fellow hostel-dwellers and the owners. They taught me a lot about Greek society, and also an interesting fringe area called Athos where monks rule and women aren’t even permitted to cross the border. That night I went to a bar to wait for the bus to take me to the airport. I got so distracted by my conversation with the bartender that I not only missed the bus once, but twice. I ended up there in time to catch my flight though, which matters most.

Leaving Greece I headed to England, where I stayed the first night in a B & B near Stansted airport. It was incredibly relaxing. I had a gorgeous room to myself, and I basically just arrived, slept and then ate a delicious breakfast. The next morning I headed off to London, where I left my bags and set off in search of culture. I visited the British National Museum, the Tate Modern, Hyde Park, Buckingham Palace, Green Park, and London Bridge. I had an excellent time wandering, but by the end of the day I was exhausted and tired of being alone. What stood out to me the most that day was a photo exhibit by Taryn Simon. It documented the lives of a lot of really unusual people in different countries around the world, including Indian men who had been declared dead by their families (who wanted to acquire their land) and a Palestinian woman who had been a terrorist.

That night I attempted to call my friend, with whom I was supposed to stay, and who I couldn’t reach. It turns out she had given me the wrong number, hence the confusion. In any case, I arrived at her dorm in Camden Town in search of her, but without her room number. I was let in and spent about 2 hours trying to contact her by phone and facebook – to no avail. Fortunately, another friend was on facebook and agreed to let me stay the night. To all those facebook naysayers, clearly it serves a purpose. I ended up in West Kensington. We chatted and reminisced about times in Mexico 3 years prior, while her poor roommate packed up and went to stay at a friend’s. As it happens she lives in a 3-bedroom apartment, but her third roommate had subletted to someone and then arrived back earlier than expected, meaning that the apartment was already crowded and my arrival meant someone had to temporarily step out. In any case, I slept well and woke up refreshed; happy that I wasn’t in a 10-person dorm but rather a cozier, more comforting environment. That morning Erika walked me to a nearby coffee shop where I ended up having a long chat with the owner and a record producer, while waiting to see if I would get in touch with my friend before my daytrip to Evesham. I think one of the most insightful things I heard on my whole trip came out that morning when the owner told me that travelling alone is the best way to set personal boundaries and also test one’s own limits. England did just that. I tried calling my friend again, which didn’t work because the number was wrong, so I headed off on my trip with all my baggage in tow, including broken boots on my feet (the heels had started falling off while in Greece). I’m not sure that I’ve ever felt like such an aimless wanderer.

My train ride to Evesham was beautiful. The countryside was really green and I saw cows, and rivers; I expected a zombie to jump out at any point. I shared the ride with two ad execs and an Estonian rapper: interesting, to say the least. The town itself was quaint, and I thought it appropriate to have some proper local food so I ordered fish and chips. It was alright; I think the novelty made it worthwhile. That night I returned back to my friend’s dorm and went in search of her by knocking on doors. I found her and we dropped my bags and headed to a bar nearby to reminisce on last year in Turkey and the lives we’re now leading. She’s pursuing her Masters in London, and it seems to be exactly the path for her. It’s funny how context can change things. She seems much happier and at ease, both because she’s in England and because she’s found a career that really interests her. Her dorm is right near a few very interesting neighbourhoods including Soho and Kentish Town. It made me think back to Thessaloniki and how much I had appreciated the vibe there that the plethora of graffiti created.

The following days in London were filled with visits with friends. It really made me nostalgic. I met with Maddy who I’d met in Toronto and who’s now also teaching. We talked about our experiences living with Spanish host families; the trials and tribulations of trying to understand what’s acceptable and what’s expected. Strangely enough the restaurant we ate at was Turkish. I had chosen it not knowing, perhaps it’s fate, or perhaps I’m programmed – maybe a touch of both. Before meeting Maddy I had ventured around Leicester Square and Westminster Abbey, and also gone to lunch with Erika before seeing a play. I was fortunate enough to be bumped up to seventh row at “Priscilla Queen of the Desert”, which may have been the strangest thing I’ve ever seen live – excluding a mock S & M play in Winnipeg when I was 18. The play’s costumes were basically like the brain of a kindergarten kid on acid; there were men dressed as cupcakes and others like flamingos. The dialogue was witty, and the music was pop. One of the highlights for me was when I noticed that all of the other attendees were over 50, and when the time came a bunch of them went up on stage and joined in the festivities. It was encouraging considering that I’d just turned 25. I now have a plan for 50 – get on stage with drag queens and do a hoedown.

Remembrance Day came and went and I left to go back to Greece. The day before I’d seen a ceremony of sorts at Westminster Abbey, which I found appropriate because my grandmother had volunteered there. I spoke with one of her cousins in fact (or my mother’s), and I found it pretty inspiring. I have a huge number of extended family in England, but I don’t know them at all. I think my mission for my next trip to England will involve getting to know who these relatives are, and learning more about the life my grandmother led. Right before catching my flight I went for breakfast with my friend Mehmet, who I’d met in Turkey. It was funny seeing him because it felt like we could have been anywhere: two friends sitting in a café and chatting. It was wonderful seeing him, but from a selfish perspective I almost wished he was still in Turkey so that it didn’t require a 5 hour flight to have a casual conversation. He had been there all along my Turkish-language discovery journey. He’s also pursuing a Masters in England. Hopefully that’ll be me soon enough, minus the England part.

My last days in Thessaloniki involved more wandering and very little sleep, probably due to the sickness I was still getting over and partially due to my Greek roommate. He came back to the dorm at about 4 am, very surprised to see me (I had only arrived after 11 pm). He mumbled some Greek to me, which clearly I didn’t understand and I told him to turn off the light and go to his area – he followed my orders. As it happens, he was in the army. At 6 am once again he woke me up because he and his friend were heading off to work. They came back later, and we introduced ourselves. He ended up volunteering to accompany me around the city, so off we headed to the Archaeology and the Byzantine Museums. He told me about his life in the army, and what it was like growing up in Athens. More importantly, he joked around constantly, which I really appreciated. I’m not sure what it was about Greece, but I felt like they got my sense of humor and I got theirs. It was comfortable having to be on my toes. The most fascinating thing at the museums was an exhibition about the Jews of Thessaloniki, wherein I learned about the community and its responsibilities before WWII. There was also some discussion about how the community was organized, including the cemetery. Afterwards, we went for some Greek food and then I took off for my last movie “Fleurs du Mal”. It took place in France, but one of the characters was Iranian and had been sent there by her parents to avoid any injury during the protests. Once again, it made me want to travel there. It made me think back to some of my friends from high school, and also some of the students I taught – people who told me stories about their friends being beaten at pro-democracy rallies.

My travels around in the past month have involved family, friends and a large number of acquaintances. I’ve heard really interesting stories and also realized that I don’t want my purpose in travel to be fleeing problems, but rather discovering my capacities and learning about others. I like having to figure out plans and overcome obstacles, especially when they involve end-goals like moussaka and drag-queens. Next step: Lebanon and Jordan, or Prague and Vienna?

Turkey- one week, then another. I spent this past weekend, for the first time, staying with a Turkish family. I've been living in Turkey for a year now but not once did I have the opportunity to actually spend time in a familial situation. I'm fortunate enough to have a very close friend here, who invited me to her hometown to attend a traditional wedding ceremony, and also meet her family in the process. Although there were differences in terms of how life is lived, I think the most important thing is just to be open. Instead of needing to eat at a certain time, or only wanting to discuss certain topics, it's important to see how others live and try to blend in with it in order to really experience as much as possible in the short time available to do so. Family is really important here, and particularly in Bolu, the city I went to, neighbourhoods are close - everyone knows everyone. I think this can lead to a certain amount of pressure, but on the flipside you're surrounded by a pretty substantial group of people who love you and would do anything for you.

Saturday we discovered the city, but there wasn't really much to be seen. The highlight was an old hamam (Turkish baths), that's been turned into a cafe and shoe store - it was beautiful, and one of the most serene places I've ever sat in. The main reason to visit Bolu are its natural surroundings. Sunday we took a day trip to Abant, which is a lake nearby, where one can fish and stroll. Picnics are extremely popular here, so the parking lots are packed with vans full of people coming out for a nice Sunday meal with family and friends. It's become extremely popular with Iranian tourists, so while walking we saw many women wearing the niqab. One of the girls I was with was quite uncomfortable with this; she said she hates not being able to see faces, it makes her feel like there's something missing. It's not very common in Turkey either, so that's probably why it strikes her. As we left, we decided to stop by another small lake area nearby called Gülköy. We were able to spot sünnet celebrations, and even walk up and watch. The child receiving the circumcision is like a star, he wears a cape and carries around a sceptre. The family hires dancers, and musicians and (of course) there is a lot of dancing! What surprised me about this is that it's not a baby, but rather a 7 or perhaps a 10 year old boy. To me, age alters the arguments about circumcision. I had always thought it was only performed on babies, but in some way it being a child instead changes my opinion of it... Rather than going off on a tangent, I'll get back to my travels.

The best part of my weekend was, of course, the düğün (wedding) I attended. It was full of people, all seated around these incredibly long tables in the hall. The bridge and groom sit at the front in the centre, and each has their respective side full of family. The ceremony starts when they walk in and start dancing, then joined by everyone else. We danced cezayir style, which apparently is very popular in the Black Sea Region. After a while the dancing stops, and it's time for gifts to be given - either money or gold coins. The bridge and groom stand at the front, while people line up to pin their coins or money onto their sashes. The whole time announcements are made about who's given what. After this incredibly long process the cake is cut, and dancing resumes. There was no meal served, and no party favours given - the focus instead is on dancing. Another interesting difference is that for the most part the men dance with men, and women with women. In addition, the people dancing are usually only those close with the bride and groom, distant acquaintances don't dance because people might talk. Although I'm sure many weddings are this way, my friend made it a point to mention that this is a more traditional wedding for two people from fairly humble backgrounds so if I were to attend a student's wedding here at the University in Ankara it would probably be quite different. Instead of traditional music for example, there would probably be a lot of pop played. I'm so grateful I was able to participate in this one. I danced my heart out. I think I surprised quite a few people. Another interesting observation for me was that alcohol was not served, and that for the first time I saw a bride wearing a hijab - this was the first Muslim wedding I've ever attended.

The next day, while leaving, I mentioned to my friend's mother the travels I'd done in the past two months and she mistakenly thought I was talking about where I'd been since childhood. This is when I realized it's time for me to sit down and write an entry. This is going to be a long process, but I'll try to give a summary of my recent voyages because the purposes have truly been varied.

North America - my home, and more-or-less native land. I went back to Toronto, Canada for the first time after moving to Turkey 10 months prior. I saw things differently, which surprised me. I hadn't expected people to be as friendly as they were, or as fit for that matter. I think being away for 10 months and listening to others' opinions and stereotypes had somehow caused my memory to reform itself. It was between 30 and 40 degrees for a good portion of my time there, which created a barrier between me and the activities I wanted to partake in, i.e. bike riding. I did, however, manage to take advantage of the culture Toronto has to offer. I went to a number of plays, including a Shakespearean one at Stratford, and a fringe festival one. I also went to the Harbourfront and various locations - I tried to play it like a tourist and really exploit the city for all its worth. There are so many amazing neighbourhoods that I seldom go to, like Roncesvalles, Distillery District or the Beaches for example. My time was mostly devoted to seeing friends and family, attending themed parties and basically just having fun. One of the best nights was right before I left when I went to Kensington Market with friends, to a bar called The Boat where we danced to music through all decades starting from the 40s. Time machine gibi.

During my time at home, I took a quick trip to Chicago, U.S.A. with my mother and sister in order to visit my family who live there. Once again I was surprised at just how friendly everyone was - from shop attendants to people on the street. I did a bit of a walking tour with a friend who I met up with there; we visited Millenium Park, and the new statue of Marilyn Monroe, which for some reason has everyone talking - is it an eyesore, or an aesthetic pleasure for the streets? Personally, I think it's an easy way to make tourists feel that they've seen yet another cool sight, that simple. I also went to the zoo there for the first time, which is free, and quite well-maintained it seemed. Zoos are always slightly depressing though, but moreso because there were no orangutans, who, after my time collecting data on last summer at the Toronto zoo, I've grown an affinity for. The most fulfilling time was spent with my family of course, but I also enjoyed the Art Institute of Chicago where I was able to see a really impressive Impressionist Gallery. This was in contrast to the also amazing Art Gallery of Ontario, where I saw an exhibit on Abstract Expressionism - maybe a third of which I understood something from. Unfortunately most of the time black squares don't cause ecstatic responses from deep within me...

All in all, I was able to actually have a vacation at home, which I'm privileged for - it's not that often someone can play tourist in their own city, although maybe that's all people need to appreciate it a little more?

Germany and Poland - learning. I went to Germany and Poland once again to take part in the Learning From the Past Teaching for the Future Program (TFTF). This was quite a different trip than last time. In my previous trips to Poland and Germany I spent almost every day at a site associated with the Holocaust, for example Treblinka or Ravensbruck, but this time while in Poland we stayed in Poznan and were on the Adam Mickiewicz University campus all throughout the day. I enjoyed Poland a lot more this time, since I was able to see it so much in its contemporary form. Of course what I gained the most from was discussions with other participants. Life is all about stories, and in this way other thoughts are triggered within you, I think. For example, I spent a lot of time talking with a Polish participant who's doing his M.A. at the aforementioned University. We discussed a situation I hadn't given much thought to before: the repercussions that women had to deal with after the war, in terms of the sexual abuse they quite often faced (in a number of countries, in fact). After being raped and (for some) becoming pregnant, the woman is often regarded in some way not as a victim but as a perpetrator of some heinous act - she's brought shame to her family. This attitude still exists. There are biases, which haven't disappeared.

Poland is a country in which you are very much aware of the past, but it's not as in-your-face as in certain cities in Germany like Berlinfor example. In Poznan there is a former Synagogue, which has been converted into a swimming pool, and all you see is a small plaque on the wall - you would never know otherwise; whereas in Berlin sometimes it feels like everywhere you walk you're being explicitly reminded of what happened, whether it's through the stumbling stones on the ground, the signs or the heavily protected Synagogues. What's fascinating is how both countries are dealing with the legacy of the past in different ways, particularly through their museums and education systems - Poland is definitely not as developed as Germany in this sense. One problem I noticed in Germany though is that through its sincere, and omnipresent reminders of its past (and simultaneous apologeticness for it) one wonders about the present minority groups, for example the Turks. I spent some time, once again in Kreuzberg where I noticed even moreso the number of Turkish speakers who reside there. When they face discrimination (quite possibly) on a regular basis, and have a very rich cultural history which may not be appreciated in their "new" homeland, how does this make them feel? I spoke with one friend about this, himself a recent immigrant to Germany. He sees the tension, without question, but at the same time it probably just requires some minimal reforms. He, himself, likes his life in Berlin, because he's left to his own devices. He lives with another immigrant to the country, and they admitted that they have hardly any German friends, but that they're not resentful rather it's just the way things have happened. C'est la vie. I found myself falling in love with Berlin, even moreso this time than the last. Although in Poland I look like I fit in more, physical appearance is meaningless when you can't understand what's happening around you - even though many people speak English, I'd feel embarassed taking so long to learn the language. Even this weekend, I tried to speak Turkish the whole time, because while speaking English I realize I just don't want to. If I'm not in an English speaking environment I'd rather not speak it for some reason - perhaps I don't want to draw attention to myself, or maybe I just really want to test myself as much as possible.

This entry is becoming a stew.

Turkey - reality. After Germany I flew back to Turkey. I was coming home, and I felt relaxed but uneasy all at once. I'm here for another year. Another year without my comfortable Canadian environs. I was lucky this time because the time difference didn't exist, which meant I was basically able to sleep from the start; however, I was exhausted from already 4 weeks of travel and especially the last part (Germany and Poland), since we were attending workshops daily and going out at night. I missed my friends already as well. The amount of reflection and discussion a trip like the Germany/Poland one allows for is exceptional - everything you hear, you're free to critique or ask about, or admire - it's like a no-holds-barred academic and emotional environment, particularly with some of my closer friends. We reflect to death about everything.

So, uneasy in the sense of missing the lives I've just lived this summer, but fortunate because I know Ankara. I know my place here now to a certain extent. Most importantly I was coming back with friends, knowledge and some language skills. I left my computer charger in Poland, so I had to work my way around that here, but I had the help of really wonderful friends as well as my ability this year to express myself (as limited as it may be) in Turkish. Last year I would have cried, this year I was able to laugh and go out for dinner instead to my favourite restaurant. It being Ramazan when I got here, I was able to participate in Iftar celebrations twice: once with a Turkish friend in a very traditional neighbourhood here called Hamamönü and once with two Canadian friends at a favourite restaurant on Tunali st. where the manager remembered me and invited us to a free gourmet buffet meal. Turkish people are nothing if not generous. I really am happy to be back here in so many ways. There's a life that I've built here, which I know will be coming to an end, but while I'm still here this year I want to really take advantage of all the opportunities available. I have plans for the future, although who knows how things could change...

Another thing that surprised me this summer and then coming back here was some of the bias that people have toward Turkey. There were people who were shocked that I was coming back, they couldn't understand what would bring me back here, and couldn't believe when I described how safe I typically feel here. There's a portion from a lecture I listened to today, which I feel is appropriate here - it's by William Ury. "Today we face the scourge of terrorism. What is terrorism? Terrorism is basically taking an innocent stranger and treating them as an enemy whom you kill in order to create fear. What's the opposite of terrorism? It's taking an innocent stranger and treating them as a friend whom you welcome into your home in order to sow and and create understanding, or respect, or love." I can't explain the amount of warmth I've received from people here, taking me in and treating me well, not to receive anything from it but just out of the kindness of their hearts. The lecture was apt for this entry, as it's about conflict resolution and focuses primarily on the Middle East (http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/william_ury.html). It's undeniable that there's conflict here, even since coming back to Turkey I've become more aware of the increasing problems with the Israeli government, the PKK and so on; however, that doesn't mean that daily lives have changed drastically in Ankara. Whether that's a good thing or not I'm not sure. Today for example, speaking with a coworker, she mentioned that it's animalistic almost to be watching TV, see that 13 soldiers have been killed in the East and then to go eat dinner - how can it be so normalized? It's a valid question. Turkey is like this - it's divided in so many ways: East and West, rich and poor, religious and secular and so on... This year I feel like I'm almost obligated to look more into some of these issues, not just watch movies but try to do some more research about these subjects and the relationships that exist (as tenuous as they may sometimes be). I'm reading a book right now called "The Help", and in the book as in the lecture as in all travels it's so clear, we have 10 fingers, 10 toes, we feel pain, laugh and experience life in similar ways as different as we may feel at times. Ah humanity!

Croatia and Montenegro - After my return to Turkey for one week, we had Şeker Bayramı one week holiday, so I was off again. Kate had already left on Thursday night, but I chose to wait: visiting Istanbul instead and then flying off to Zagreb, where I arrived on Sunday night. I travelled with two other friends there, so that was good company, but upon arrival we split up to find our respective hostels. The first people I met were two very unimpressed Spaniards who complained to me about the lack of running water, the lack of hospitality and basically the lack of anything which they would typically associate with vacation time. Seasoned travels they were not. With travel comes many realizations, including the understanding that often (if not usually) things won't go your way and it's fine to complain, but it's not really fair to blacklist a whole place and a vacation before it's even started because of this. That being said, I found my hostel with ease, and even had free use of public transport because I just frankly didn't know what to do in order to buy a ticket - Croatian is not easy to suddenly decipher without previous knowledge. Funnily enough throughout my travels in Croatia and Montenegro I ended up using a few languages, which I don't really know at all - I would construct a sentence with a third Polish, a third Italian and a third English for example and then respond with charasho or dobra. What made matters worse is that often people assumed I was Croatian because of my appearance, so I just felt slightly silly not being able to respond even though obviously I would never have been able to or should have been able to. I was able to empathize better with Cynthia who is often mistaken for Turkish until she opens her mouth, at which point people just become confused. Anyway, Zagreb itself, to be honest, is nice and quite small with some very Soviet looking architecture particularly near the train station, but it didn't feel special to me. Croatia, to me, was about the coast. The best part of Zagreb was sitting around with friends, and other travellers and drinking Ožujsko Limun, one of the most delicious beers I've ever had. We sat, and we chatted and I got sassed by multiple Croatians. The people there I found remarkably unfriendly and quite often downright rude. It was actually quite comical. For example, at this "breery" (my version of a brewery) we went to, I decided to order milk with honey for some reason. On the menu it was described as hot, but when it arrived it was cold. I gave it a stare down and the angry waiter basically spat out at me, "do you have a problem?". I frantically shook my head. I later went on a quest for a spoon, because he wasn't bringing one. I was directed repeatedly to the washroom, when I finally achieved my goal of obtaining a spoon I returned to the table to find the angry waiter there, spoon in hand. I also managed to somehow get accidentally forced into stealing a beer glass from a bar - a linguistic misunderstanding, which I didn't want to make any worse, so I hid it and left. In Germany my crime was stealing a loaf of bread from a bar, Croatia it's glass... I can't help but wonder what's next?

Kate and I managed to travel to a variety of places on our Croatian and Montenegran voyage, including Plitvice natural park area, which was far too crowded for my liking and a party island called Hvar. We spent two nights in Split, which were quite relaxing. We went to the main square both times and listened to live music (in English). We also saw traditional Croatian dancing, and met some other pairs of tourists. In Split, we went to the Synagogue, where we met a really dedicated volunteer who taught us all about the Jewish community in Croatia before and after WWII. He talked about how there were roughly 41 Synagogues before, but at present there are 3 - also, the need for a community to come together regardless of Orthodox or reform leanings. It was pure, because his desire came from a good source: he just wanted traditions to continue, and most importantly he truly wanted to learn about how Jewish life was before the Nazis' attempt to destroy it. He said that, at present, they work closely with the Muslim community in Split because they relate to each other. He also said that the Catholic school brings children to visit the Synagogue on class trips, and that they are seemingly free of many of the biases that existed when he was a youth (he was in his 50s or 60s I would estimate). We also visited the Jewish cemetery in Split, which was appropriate because it was on the day of my grandmother's funeral, which was taking place in Australia - clearly I couldn't be there, but it was hard nonetheless, and maybe even moreso for it... There's a sense of confusion I always feel when I visit Jewish sites, particularly ones that have in some way been affected by the Holocaust. I can't explain, but my identity is always in question.

Hvar was our next stop, and it was gorgeous. The whole trip, apart from Zagreb, was hot. For Kate this was difficult as she's not one for the heat, she turns red and gets extremely uncomfortable; however, we tried to use it to our advantage. For example, we ate ice cream on a daily basis, and swam at the beaches we found. Our accommodation turned out to basically be a luxury suite for 4 people because the owner upgraded us free of charge. The view was spectacular, and we were in between a bigger, nicer (more local friendly) beach and the city centre - walking distance to everything. We explored during the day, and once again ran into our other traveller buddies - the Texans and the Irish. It seems that there's a pretty clear route that a lot of people follow. We climbed up to an old fortress and soaked up the view. Looking down on the city, with its innumerable alleys, beautiful rocks and harbour it just makes you feel full, being there and breathing in clean air. The beach was wonderful too, because there was shade, and the water was so refreshing. I spent my time there talking with the owner (who's about 27 yrs.) of our lodgings, who happened to be spending the evening at the beach too. I asked him about a lot of things, dating, the war, Croatian food etc. Although Hvar wasn't destroyed, it was still affected in various ways in the early 90s and he said Croatia still has some remnants of the war to contend with. That night we went out, the three of us, and discovered (more like, he guided us) into the crazy ways of Croatian nightlife. Alcohol is basically thrown at you from all sides, and the parties spill out from the bars into the alleys. There are boats that will take you to islands where the entire area is covered by one massive club, with swimming pools and all. It's a different world.

One hour of sleep, and a lot of fun later we set off for Dubrovnik. Once again, the views were spectacular. Upon arrival I was just thoroughly irritated though, frankly. It was boiling hot, I hadn't slept, I was itchy from the heat rashes (which I had the whole time in Croatia), and we didn't have a way to contact the woman we were staying with - just an address. We took a cab and arrived there, but she wasn't there. Luckily, there was another traveller there who was kind enough to lend us his resources, and she came right over. We befriended him, and he and his brother became our Dubrovnik/Montenegro travel buddies. We spent two out of three nights in Dubrovnik's old town, where we walked around and enjoyed the free music filling the streets, and the tourists on every corner (sometimes fighting, sometimes loving each other). In fact, it's an extremely romantic city, and country really! I mentioned to Kate that I wouldn't have wanted to travel it alone, I would have felt really lonely since accommodation isn't typically hostels so it's harder to meet people and you're surrounded by couples and groups. Australia is a haven for single backpackers, Croatia is not.

Our lodging was right beside a beach, but it was too crowded so we walked a tiny bit to an area that was full of lounge chairs supplied by a waterside bar. We didn't purchase anything, but we lounged and read and swam and enjoyed life. Actually being able to relax was amazing - it didn't/doesn't happen often enough. Dubrovnik itself we spent a day exploring. We split up, which worked out well because we wanted to do different things. She was an exceptionally good travel partner, since we were open and there were no misunderstandings. I participated in a war-themed walking tour of Dubrovnik. It felt like I was watching a cartoon half the time, because the guide kept leaving us with cliffhangers like, "As I said, there is still a lot of hostility at present between Serbs, Croats and Bosnians, but what will be of our future? Let's walk around this corner and find someone who might have a clue for us." He then walked us over to a statue of a man holding a shield and a sword, and basically gave us his pessimistic prediction for the region's future. His accuracy will soon be tested, I suppose. I did learn a lot, regardless of the occasional cheesy lines he threw in. He talked to us about how most of Dubrovnik's damage came in one day in 1991, when about 13 civilians were killed. Walking through the city you can see which houses were hit and which weren't by signs like the colour: how white are the window frames, and how red is the roof for example. He also told us about how Serbs are perceived there, and how hard-hit Bosnia was. One interesting fact related to the number of mixed couples before and after the war. Statistics can be misleading, but he said something like 14% of marriages were mixed before, and at present it's about 4%. I think what I most appreciated was the background he provided. He told us about Tito, and what a unifying force he was - history I wasn't aware of.

There's no question that Dubrovnik is a tourist destination, but I think it's more for its beautiful sights than for its war history, black tourism hasn't become an "it" thing. Within the city there are a number of beautiful buildings to visit, great restaurants to eat at and the walls (surrounding the city) to walk along - there's more than enough to do without even thinking about the damage suffered during the war. I really wonder how often locals receive questions about it. I also wonder about the appropriacy of it. Is it fair to ask someone what it was like living through a war? Is it right to question someone because it's your opportunity to do so for your one day there, while they're facing tourists 365 days a year who might be forcing them to relive these experiences? My train of thought is that they probably repeat the story so many times that it becomes normal for them to do so. Again, there's no prescriptive nature to my observations, just to clarify. When we went to Kotor, Montenegro I asked a server where he was from, and he told us he was Bosnian but that there were no opportunities there. He then went on to expain a bit about the languages. Basically they're the same he said, if it weren't for the politics they would probably have one name. The writing, however, differs. In Montenegro they use both Cyrillic and Latin writing, while in Croatia it's just the Latin alphabet. The currency is also different, with the euro being used in Montenegro and the kuna in Croatia. I actually found Croatia to be surprisingly expensive, although I suppose it's probably not - coming from Turkey it struck me though. If I had been coming straight from Germany I'm sure I would have been thrilled.

Our time in Montenegro involved the two brothers, Kate and I driving around in our rented car frequently stopping to take photos of the endless beauty of the landscapes there. We sang, chatted and soaked up the views. Our main stop was in Kotor, where David and I climbed up to the fortress. It felt like it was 40 degrees, and probably for this reason we didn't make it to the top, but we did make it close. Along the way he picked up a fan that someone had left behind and in my pink dress, with fan in hand I sauntered back down the massive stone steps to a shady, alley where we paused to buy ice cream before returning to our comrades. The climb was worth it for the views, and also the conversation. You really do meet amazing people when you travel. It might be because you basically only see a snapshot (probably the best side), but regardless there's something to learn. We went off to Perast after, where we swam and basically just cooled off. The highlight had to be our attempt to leave Montenegro. It involved us stuck in between the two countries in traffic for over 3 hours. We started a dance party, and played alcohol-free drinking games involving an entity named "Pam Pam". Basically we kept ourselves entertained, although I did meander around and manage to hold a very basic conversation with a German tourist who refused my offering of Ritter sport. Keeping with the vacation theme (=no sleep) we spent our last night first at a gorgeous bar on the rocks in Dubrovnik, and then at a massive club. I can't remember the last time I went to a club like that. We danced for hours, and really just had a ton of fun before heading back to leave for Turkey. Once again, we didn't manage to sneak in any sleep before our departure. The past week has basically been a recovery process, dealing with the aftermath of two months of non-stop movement. I have this week and the next to take a break before I'm off again, possibly to Istanbul, probably to Bodrum and then in just over a month to South Africa!

I'm an addict, what can I say? Travel is what I know, it's what I do.

... Pictures to come, and possibly additional anecdotes