Semana Santa: Rome

“Every one soon or late comes round by Rome.”   - Robert Browning

And that is precisely why I didn't want to got to Rome.  A petty case of social rebellion, I admit it.  But... to be in Rome over Easter... that might be worthwhile, I reasoned, and besides, not as many people can boast about that.

And off I went. 

Let me tell you, you should go to Rome.  Going at Easter is pretty swell, but Rome deserves it of its own merit.  

I arrived in style - and by that I mean with unwashed hair, saggy jeans, and day-old socks.  Checking baggage costs extra money, you see.  My backpack and I were on pretty intimate terms by the end of it. 

For the first few moments, Rome seemed like all the other European cities I've stumbled across.  Ditching my backpack, I checked into the hostel, ripped a map off the big stack at the front desk, and began my wanderings.  It should be noted that, although I still probably qualify as spatially challenged, my map-guessing skills have improved remarkably since Lisbon.  Going in the general direction rather than street-by-street is much more efficient, it seems.  Columbus has got nothing on me.

I started out west, in the general direction of the Spanish Steps.  On the way, I found myself in the Piazza della Rebpulica, which is, in fact, somewhat in the right direction!  There was a large unsightly church there, and usually I skip large unsightly churches having overdosed in Spain, but I went in anyway.

It changed my standard for beauty.  Permanently.

As it turned out, this particular church was one of Michaelangelo's last projects (a fact I found out after being totally awed).  Perfect colors, spacious and well-proportioned, I made several circuits, looking up open-mouthed.  Breathtaking moment number one.

Continuing on, I eventually found myself at the Fountain of Trevi... breathtaking moment number two.  It is easily my favorite place in the city.  Something about the juxtaposition of massive, intricate sculptures and enormous, rugged rocks with falling water... hard to beat.  Plus, it was mobbed.  The energy bouncing around was nearly tangible as tourists jostled around for pictures and swung under rails in order to get closer to the water (regardless of age!).  This was also my first experience with gelatto... sublime.

The rest of the day proceeded in a similar fashion, though nothing could quite compare to my first two experiences.  After Athens' dismal countenance, wandering around in utter beauty and charm was a welcome relief.  Every corner had a new surprise or scene.  One street was full of bohemian art galleries... also a favorite!  And so the day progressed.

My fellow travelers arrived that evening after an unfortunate 10 hour siesta in the Sofia airport.  Getting pizza to go, we arrived at the Colosseum just as the Pope began his Good Friday address.  The square was packed, and a cross of candles stood above the crowds, its flames flickering in time with the liturgies.  Some of the crowd were just interested tourists (that would be us) while others were deeply involved Italians, reciting the lines by memory.  Above it all was a strange oscillating metallic object in a tree, carefully concealed behind the leaves.  Hmmm.

The next day, Will and I, who had never been to Rome before, went hard-core sightseeing.  Let me tell you, tours are the way to go.  We lucked out on the guides... each one could have been a sitcom character that just happened to know the last 2500 years of Roman history.  Everything was crowded, of course, but the strange thing about Rome is that the people kind of fade in relation to what you're looking at.  The crowds also preclude all efforts to preserve Japanese trademarks from tourists' cameras... i.e. the Sistine Chapel.  People unabashedly ignored all requests to put away the cameras.  Really, from the guards' point of view, it must have been a hopeless circumstance.  The Chapel packed to capacity and the Pope delivering universal pardon in less than 24 hours... there was no winning.

 As for that Pope and Easter Sunday, I went not knowing what to expect.  I imagined that St. Peter's Square would be mobbed.  In fact, it wasn't.  And the line to enter (airport-style security)... well, it's amazing how short it can be if you start in the right place.  As I said, universal pardon.

Now then, a note on the Colosseum.  It's cool, first of all.  (Dad, I took particular notes for you :D)  But let's talk about this Christian martyr business.  The Church officially took back its accusations of killing Christians there in the 50s.  Only one emperor did this, and it failed.  Why?  Let's think about this logically.  Gladiators and prisoners walk out of the Door of Death into the ring, desperately hoping to live and prepared for a valiant struggle.  This makes for a good show, and it furthers the Roman propaganda that no matter how vicious it gets, everything can be conquered / controlled by Caesar.   

  

Christians, on the other hand, aren't so concerned about living, are they?  Do they fight hard and/or beg for their lives?  Not really.  To live is Christ and to die is gain.  And if they're not afraid of death but Caesar is, who is greater?  So, politically and socially, would it really be a good move for Caesar to use them for entertainment?  Not really.  End of note.

Go to Rome.  It's worth it.

Semana Santa: Istanbul

Istanbul.  Once the heart of the worlds most imposing empire and now the world's second largest city.  


Originally, it didn't seem like Istanbul could hold a straw to Rome.  Although it was incredible in its own rite, Rome is... well, the Eternal City.  But looking back on the trip as a whole, I think my perspective has changed.  While I visited Rome, I experienced Istanbul.  If you merely visit Istanbul, it will be worthwhile. If you experience it, you'll never forget it.

The Hostel:  Mavi Guesthouse
Mavi was one of my favorite memories.  When Kelly and I realized that our original reservations didn't go through a few days before arriving, Mavi was the next best thing...  staying in a 22-person room on the roof.  The roof, it turned out, was an opaque tarp.  Admittedly, the first night was a bit rough, not to mention cold.  Kelly said at one point she awoke and looked over to find me completely submerged under three enormous blankets, head and all.  However, waking up to see and hear birds feet on the tarp above me magically erased the previous night, and the trip really began.

Breakfast everyday consisted of slices of tomato and cucumber, a hard boiled egg, cream cheese and jelly, and an endless supply of sliced bread with coffee and apple tea (a Turkish staple!).  One of my bunk buddies was an enormous bald Turkish guy who worked at the hostel, and after a few days, he had our eating preferences down and brought our food immediately with a smile.  Ali, the hostel owner, was an endless fount of information and advice, as well as an offbeat sense of humor that continually caught me by surprise.

The Blue Mosque
Our hostel was literally right around the corner from two of Istanbul's most famous sights.  The Blue Mosque is an impressive structure, but as Mars, a new acquaintance who happened to be attending OU, pointed out, it appeared to be in perfect harmony with the surrounding landscape.  Kelly and I stopped by right before the evening call to prayers.  To enter, we first had to remove our shoes and cover our heads.  Habitually at a loss for all fashion tricks, the scarf wasn't working for me, so I turned to a Muslim woman who was also removing her shoes and asked for help.  With a quick flip of the scarf and whipping out a pin from her own covering, mine was perfect!

Inside was spacious and colorful... in a subdued sort of way.  Women already praying lined the walls while tourists flashed their pictures.  An unfortunate [ugly] American girl seemed to have forgotten to take her shoes off and got into an embarrassingly loud argument with one of the mosque men who was quietly asking her to leave.  A few minutes later, that same man returned and herded us all out as quickly as possible right before the call to prayer thundered from the minarets.  The whole city echoed with the various mosques' calls as the sun began to set.  It was beautiful.

The Hagia Sophia
Right across the street, the Hagia Sophia kept a watchful eye on the Blue Mosque.  Originally a Byzantine cathedral, it was much more imposing than the Mosque.  However, when the Ottoman Turks invaded, they converted it to another mosque and plastered over many of the Christian paintings and mosaics.  Kelly and I, becoming adept at eavesdropping on others' tours, learned that the plaster had begun to chip away in spots, allowing some of the original work to show through.  There were also several beautiful golden mosaics of Mary, Christ, and a few other saints that had survived.  My main lament on this trip was not having brushed up on my ancient history more thoroughly.  10th grade was a long time ago.  Still, the tours we pirated were quite helpful :)

Meat House
On our first night, we arrived famished.  Ali recommended a restaurant down the street, Meat House.  We were skeptical until, at that very moment, his to-go order arrived.  One look at the dishes and we were convinced.  Dinner began with the best yogurt I have ever tasted and the most enormous puff of pita bread, fresh from the oven.
  The next dish, a combo platter, was equally as delicious, and our server watched attentively and answered all our questions.  When we were finished, he begged us to stay for a cup of apple tea on the house.  This was to become a custom no matter where we went.  Turkish people are, above all, hospitable!



Jimmy and the Asian Side

Let's be honest:  crossing into whole other continent for the price of a 2 Turkish Lira ferry ticket is pretty incredible.  The city didn't change at all, but I did get to add another checkmark to my To-Do List for Life!  We went without a clear agenda, and after wandering around, we decided to find the TV tower hill for a 360 of the city.  The only thing was, we had no idea where it was.  An older gentleman just happened to overhear us wondering out loud and offered to show us the way.  As it turned out, he (Jimmy) was an ex-journalist and diplomat, and he resurrected 25-year-old English with little difficulty.

The hill entailed a bus ride and a sharp walk upward.  Jimmy accompanied us the whole way and was an endless source of knowledge and conversation.  While some of us were worried he'd turn around and demand millions of dollars at any moment, the rest of us enjoyed a lively conversation.  He seemed to take a balanced perspective on most things, whether the Kurds, or gypsies, or censorship, or Turkey's pending admittance to the EU.

At the top, we stopped for Turkish coffee and dessert.  I'm not typically a fan of chocolate lava cakes, but whatever we ate blew that away.  It was delicious.  Afterwards, Jimmy explained their tradition of reading fortunes from the coffee grounds left in the bottom of the coffee cups.  The descriptions were humorous, at best, but it should be noted that Will's involved an Evil Eye (common in Turkey), and less than 24 hours later he had a whopper of an eye infection.  When he mustered enough strength to find a pharmacy, people would stop him on the street: "My friend, my friend!  Your eye is going to explode!"

The Whirling Dervishes


In college, Dr. Spencer's classes nearly killed me.  British Literature Since 1800 and Ancient World Literature.  Even the memories make me shudder involuntarily.  My biggest problem with world literature was that most of it was so foreign that, despite having traveled, I had little experience to which I could connect my readings.  Nevertheless, I did emerge with some favorites, one of which was Rumi, the Sufi Islam mystic.

While waiting in line to see the Hagia Sophia, someone gave us a flyer to a whirling dervish performance that evening.  Dervishes, as you may know, are the mystic clerics in Sufism, and they dance in circles in a set ceremony as a spiritual practice and entrance into meditation.  Intrigued and wishing I'd brought my Rumi book of poems (which actually did make it to Spain!), I put it on my If-We-Have-Time-and-Money-I'd-Really-Like-to-Go list.  The timing worked perfectly, though it meant we had to scarf down the world's greatest kebab en route.  (I kid you not, most kebabs are pretty similar.  This one was divine.)  The performance itself was cool, but it was definitely helpful to have an explanation of the ceremony in front of us!

Turkish Baths
I'm currently debating how much to explain about Turkish baths.  It is easily one of my favorite memories.  However, on the off-chance that some of you mystery readers will make it over, I think you should just experience it.  Let's just say, it's not a Roman sauna experience by any stretch of the imagination, though it begins like that.  Red-checkered towels, steamy stone rooms, vigorous exfoliation and olive oil soap suds... yes, it's better to just experience it.

The Grand Bazaar

The Grand Bazaar is an enormous market in a catacomb-like building that stretched on and on and sold everything from soap to leather and Persian rugs to jewels.  It really puts Disney to shame... it was like Aladdin on steroids.  So many people, so many products, everyone shouting and vying for attention, some of the vendors genuinely interested and others 100% sleazy.  It was fun to see the sights and haggle over a few things, but it was exhausting.  There is a pretty good chance that the lamp I bought didn't make it to Athens and Rome and Madrid completely intact.  I still haven't opened the bad to see.  Yikes.  Superglue maybe?

Most Unexpected Moment

Favorite Second-Hand Story
(told without permission... sorry Kelly!)
One of the nights, most of our group opted to go to Taksim, the nightlife hub of Istanbul.  Ready to call it a day, I declined but wished them a good time.  Off they went.  They arrived at a huge club, only to find that it was mostly deserted except for the fourth floor.  The bouncer, however, was not very understanding and flatly refused to admit them.  Kelly and Tina watched from a distance as the Wills tried to argue (sweet-talk) their way in.  Defeated, they returned to the girls with the bad news.  It was a no go.  Not ready to give in, Kelly spoke up.  "Step aside, Will, let me handle this."

Now, you need to know that Kelly is a few inches shorter than me, has beautiful eyes, and is altogether gorgeous.  In fact, as Evil Eye Will put it, "You just so adorable, it's disgusting!"  So Kelly walks up to the bouncer and smiles sweetly.  "Is there any way we could go up to the fourth floor, please?" she asks.

"For you," the big man grinned, "no problem.  Open sesame!"  And that was that.  The boys followed in silence :)

Semana Santa: Athens

Athens is worth going to in order to take pictures.  It's not worth much else though, so they'll have to speak for themselves.

That said, I came to realize what an entitled traveler I am in Athens.  Until now, I'd been able to rely on either English or Spanish (or worst case scenario, pointing) to make myself understood.  A surprising number of people in Istanbul spoke English.

And then I was hungry in Greece.

On my way to take more pictures, I passed a roadside sesame bagel stand and noticed one bagel seemed to have some sort of filling.  Intrigued, I pointed to it and asked if it were salty or sweet.  "Salt, no," the man told me.  But sweet?  I asked.  Fruit?  He didn't understand and spat out a string of Greek.  I smiled sweetly and tried again.  Same response.  How much?  I asked, making a sign for money.  He replied in equally unintelligible Greek.  One?  I asked.  At this point, he threw up his hands with an unpleasant sound and picked up his newspaper again, right in front of my face.  

Well, EXCUUUUUUSE ME!!!  Sorry I asked one too many questions!!!  The American in me was mildly appalled and reasoned that, with the Greek economy in crisis, my business should be welcome regardless of my language.  I guess not!  And then the traveler in me rushed in and patted my head with a gentle "There, there, Natalie, it's different here" coo.  So, I guess I'm not as un-Americanized as I thought.  

I bought the bagel anyway.  It was okay.

But, in the same vein, few of my experiences were phenomenal.  Even a visit to the Poet-Sandalmaker was disappointing.

By the last day, I needed a change and decided to hunt up the coast.  Little did I know that the bus I chose would take me two hours away!  Getting to see the Greek countryside soothed all the chafing Athens had caused.  It was rugged and beautiful.  Suddenly, I had a new respect for Odysseus.  In fact, it made me want to pick up his story again.  Note: this is new and unusual due to overexposure at a very early age... occupational hazards of having English professors as grandparents!  That said, I would have liked to visit Athens with Grandaddy to hear his perspective and learn the literary facets!

Semana Santa

10 days of Easter vacation Apr. 15-25!

Athens, Istanbul, Rome

There are definite perks to living in a Catholic country!

Stand by for photos.