things my sister says and does

My parents made it back from Patmos with sun and wind burn.  It seemed to be everything my mother had hoped for . . . and Turkey the exotic adventure she could share with all her work friends.  With my sister here, my mother seemed to have renewed determination for sightseeing.

I honestly didn't think my sister would come to Turkey.  She is always telling me she'll join me - but has never come through.  When I went to the family reunion in Scandinavia, then onto Russia and Turkey - she first committed to coming to Sweden with me, then a week before I was leaving she was going to go to Russia with me (when I said you needed to apply for a visa two months in advance, she said, "I can get it in a week."), and when I left she said maybe I'll meet you in Istanbul "but I'm not making any promises".

Ah, okay.

Now she was here and I saw what a dangerous combination my mother and sister were.  My mother was using my sister as an excuse to travel everywhere: "But your sister hasn't seen it yet!"  My mother also relied on her to strike bargains.  My sister is notorious for out-haggling hagglers.  In part, because she doesn't trust a soul.  She assumes everyone is dishonest and trying to deceive her.  This happens to be her own modus operandi - a habit that much to my bewilderment, her friends actually appreciate.  They've nicknamed her "Sneak" as an endearment.

And to think, she's a bank manager...

So the two were already planning from the first morning:
Mom: Rachel, we should take your sister to that Ottoman hotel.
Me: Maybe.
Sister: "What Ottoman hotel?"
Me: It's an old hotel, built in the Ottoman style with a pretty view.
Mom:  And then we can buy some rugs from that guy Hakan knows.
Sister:  What . . . is Hakan getting a percentage? MEOW!

My sister now says "MEOW!" to punctuate sentences.  I'm not sure why she decided this would be her trademark, but I think she subconsciously uses it to deflect anything offensive she's said or done.

Me: No, Hakan's just helping.
Sister:  Then why do we have to go there?
Me:  We don't.
Sister:  (Squeezing Teoman and sucking her teeth and cheeks) Hubba bubba!
Me: Be gentle . . .
Sister:  I AM!
Me: I've seen you do that to your dog and make her yelp.
Sister: I've never hurt her, you're just making that up. MEOW!

We went into the Kusadasi center the first day.  Kusadasi is a port town for international cruise ships, so you can't quite call it Turkey.  The main strip has been built on tourism.  Shop owners now enough of a few languages to sell to anybody.  My sister continued with her sweeping judgements.
"This reminds me of Mexico, there's a bunch of Tchotches here!"


That's another thing my sister does.  She makes up, or mixes up words.  I doubt she knows what a tchotchke is, but she'd be too proud to admit this.  She projects a lot of herself on other people, and whoever she suspects of being tricky or slick is a "Tcotch".

Tchotch!

Tuesday we visited Ephesus.  We parked, and my sister said,
"Dad, are you sure we can park here? We might get towed."  (It was a field).




Wednesday we visited the National Park.
"This reminds me of Oman!"
And Priene

at Priene

And Thursday we drove to Izmir

Izmir - I wish someone in my family would
have told me to fix my hair.

Friday, we packed and spent time with the family.  Hakan, and his wife's family visited to say hi and bye.
Sister: When are we going to the city center.
Me: After they leave.
Sister: When are they leaving?
Me: I don't know.  They came to meet you.
Sister: Well you told me we'd go to the city center.
One hour later
Me: We can go now.
Sister: Well its too late now.
Me: Okay, Pops and I are going.
Sister:  For how long?
Me: About an hour.
Sister: Fine, I'll go then.

thus our trip goes so far . . .

and more family

not an easy job . . .

After three four months in Ankara and blood sugar consistently over 200, my Baba was a new man in Kusadasi.  He was busy in the garden every day - sometimes doing useful things like planting and trimming, sometimes making trouble (like buying MORE trees), and sometimes just doing things because he's bored.  He weeded the area across our road, sawed off a branch, burned the grass, and relocated the olive tree.

More Baba's pace

I thought I would get a chance to rest with my parents off to Greece (or Egypt, depending on whether they got on the right ferry), but this was not the case.

I had a car, for the first time every in Kusadasi, and I good advantage of this . . . and so did Baba.  I did grocery shopping, took Baba on his errands, went for coffee with my sister-in-law, and worked around the house at my father-in-laws bidding.

My parents were coming back Sunday night, and my sister was also arriving Sunday night from America.  The times conflicted, so Hakan picked up my parents.

I hadn't been driving this whole time living in Turkey, and especially after having a baby - I wasn't trusting my focus.  I brought my Anne with for support.  The airport was a little over an hour away, but I was tired of my sister before we even left the parking garage.  It was not a good start . . .

I never realized before how much my sister needs to manage EVERYTHING.  First, it was her suitcase.  It was huge.  It was a problem because the stroller was huge, and our trunk was bursting at the seams on our road trip to Kusadasi.  I paused looking at the trunk, wondering what we would do.

"What are you doing?" my sister asked.
"Thinking about how everything will fit."
"It will be fine."
"I'm not so sure about that - mom and dad have a lot of stuff too."
"Well, let's not worry about it now."
We loaded the stuff in.  I took the car seat out and strapped Teoman in the center seat. "Aren't you not supposed to put babies in the middle?"
"I think its okay."
"I thought you weren't supposed to," she said.  "Does Anne want to sit in the back with Teoman?"
"She'll sit wherever you don't sit, she'd rather you be comfortable."  Sherah took the front seat, while I sat in the car, debating whether to nurse Teoman now, or just go.
"What's wrong."
"I'm debating whether to feed Teoman now or not."
"Feed him now."
"Except we've been here almost an hour."
"Don't you have any money?"
"Not that I want to spend on a parking lot."
"Why?  How much is it?"
"Seven lire an hour."
"How much is that in dollars? I have dollars."
"I don't know how much that is in dollars.  I don't make dollars anymore."
"Let's just go then, he'll be fine."
Yes'm.


We pulled out and I scanned the signs for the way home.  It was dark and everything looked different.  Not to mention my mind was on the little one and being pestered like a gnat at the same time by my sister's incessant questions.
"What are we looking for?"
"The road to Selçuk.  But not the toll road."
"Why not?  Don't you have any money?"
Yes.  We established that.  "No, I don't have the pass card."
"Can't we just buy one?  I'll pay."
With your dollars?  "No, we can't."
"Why not?"
"I don't know why not, they just don't sell them at the booths."  While we were driving, I followed the wrong sign, and saw the sign for the toll road, which meant I missed the turn for the parallel road.
"Let's just stop at the gas station and buy one."
"They don't sell them at gas stations."
"Are you sure?"
"No, but this is what Tolga says.  This isn't America."
"I'm just asking.  Let's stop at the gas station anyway and ask."

Just ask.  Like its that easy to ask in Turkish how to get to Kusadasi without taking the toll road.  I don't know how to say that in Turkish.  I pulled over at the gas station and checking the map and calling my husband about directions.  I was worried my sister would distract me into getting into an accident, so I decided to take care of my other worry and nursed Teoman.  We continued down the road, a different and slightly longer way home.  I have no idea if I was following the speed limit, which is problem because its all computerized - the catch you by camera and mail you the ticket a month later - but I was  so distracted . . .

"This reminds me of Mexico."  (She doesn't really like Mexico).  "Watch out for the cow. This reminds me of Uzbekistan."  (And then later . . . ) "This reminds me of Oman. (She likes Oman, it's exotic).  Look at all these cute cafes.  I want a beer."

Get me home, get me home, get me home...

Kusadasi and the family

It was nice to slow down again.  Tolga had to leave Monday morning for work, but the rest of us were staying in Kusadasi.  There are many things to see in the area, and having a car created all the more freedom.

The problem again was my mom was torn between wanting to shop and wanting to see everything.  Monday was simple, because we just went into Kusadasi to see the town.  Tuesday my father went with Hakan to his work, and I took my mothers for tea on the pier.  Later we met up at Hakan's hotel where my dad was checking the teeth of a Welsh pony.  (I'm not sure why).  Wednesday we were back into town to finalize some tickets for my mom and dad - but between the rain, and errands, we really didn't see much.  That's because a lot of our time was taken sorting out my mother's trip to Patmos.

She had it in her head that she would visit the Seven Churches mentioned in Revelation and the Greek Island of Patmos, where John wrote Revelation.  She's mentioned this almost every day.  I looked into the ferry schedules - from Kusadasi they would go to Samos, the main entry point from Turkey to Greece.  The Samos ferry runs daily as it is only an hour trip and many tourists had back and forth solely to lay claim that they've been to another country.  They nail you on the cost for it as well at a 55 Euro round-trip ticket.  My parents would then take a taxi across the island to a second port and take a 3 1/2 hour ferry ride to Patmos.  This ferry only cost 15 Euro round trip, but the Patmos ferry was on a very limited schedule as summer season hadn't opened yet.

I had been island hopping in the past and while the islands are idyllic, the ferries are intermittent and all island schedules vary with the weather.  I couldn't go with them to Patmos because I had no passport for our son yet.  I was looking forward to the break, but I was also worried they would end up in Egypt.  I even tried discouraging my mom from the trip as it didn't appear the museums would be open, but she was so determined to go I don't think even telling her the island was sinking would have stopped her.

Thursday morning I dropped them off at the ferry - their ferry wouldn't return until Sunday evening, so we waved good-bye, and I sighed relief at my break that had finally come . . .

parents

We've been married only 3 1/2 years, but our parents are meeting for the first time.  I was going to video record the moment and take lots of pictures - but I got too excited, fumbling with the camera and decided to just leave it because I didn't want to miss the moment.

The front door was open.  It usually is during the heat of the day or when we are waiting for someone.  Baba is usually waiting on a stool, whistling his airy tuneless tune - but we must have caught him during a bathroom break.  Anne came out first, then Baba, as well as Gokhan.  They all hugged and kissed and then we all cooed over Teoman.

Both of our parents have gentle hearts, and while communication was limited - it didn't stop neither of my mothers from showering each other with greetings and general chit-chat.  We sat on the terrace and drank tea, because this is what we do in Kusdasi.

The grass was cut, the walls were painted, and the kitchen was redone (and almost completed).

We put my parents up on the 3rd floor.  Potentially the nicest room with its own bathroom - but currently it's a room with a low ceiling, a rotting bathroom door, and we learned that night, a leaking roof.

Hakan and my father looking for our telephone line

Our home is far from perfect, and that is why we had the first night - my father, husband, and two brother-in-laws working on the phone line.  They somehow found the source of the problem down the street, their line out of hundreds, and were able to reconnect it - and only one person got mildly electrocuted.

The next day they were patching the roof with a torch and some aluminum.  A cheap and quick fix for now...

It wasn't long before Bubba had employed Tolga to some yard work and my dad jumped in to help.  Pretty quickly we had three stubborn men jockeying for control have how to tie up the roses climbing wildly up our walls.

the cook

dinner on the terrace

We had a barbecue with everybody - celebrating both Anne and Baba's birthdays.  Their real ones.  The both have a real birthday and a legal birthday because their parents registered them on different days.  Anne turned 66, but she kept saying 68 because while she was born in '46, her I.D. card says '44, and in Turkish when someone asks you how old you are, you say how old you will turn that year - so its always hard to clear age out of anybody.  Tolga's dad turned 70 . . . I think.

dutifully wearing our t-shirts

My mother brought gifts for everybody: Minnesota t-shirts, wild rice, and honey from my aunt.  She wanted everybody to where their t-shirts at the barbecue . . . and some of us did:


This also happen to be the first time the cousins met each other.  The cousins are 6 1/2 months apart and they were decidedly unimpressed . . . while the new grandparents were more proud of their grandchildren then they were of their own . . .

old and new generations

along the coast

From Antalya, we drove up the southern coast - for the week, taking our time sightseeing on our way.  We saw a lot, but it is surprising to me because we also seemed to take a long time to get going in the mornings.

Part of that is due to the Turkish breakfast.  Hotels always come with breakfast and my parents love to eat breakfast.  While Turks will separate everything, eating slowly and neatly . . . my mother represents all of America's gluttony.  She won't refuse a taste of anything, and will prepare her self several plates in order to get a piece of everything.  And she loves sauces, jams, butters . . . any sort of topping that can drown the food and drip from the corner of her mouth.
"Juice? Coffee? Milk?"
"Yes."
No "please", Sometimes a "thank you".

So our mornings were slow getting going: slow to get up, slow to get ready, slow to eat, pack, but it made it easier for me to manage getting Teoman up and ready . . .

From Antalya we drove 3 1/2 hours along the coast to Kas - our favorite spot in Turkey.  A small town, on a small peninsula with good shopping.

Breakfast in Kas

Evening in Kalkan - view
from our room

From Kas we drove only 45 minutes North to Kalkan and stayed at a beautiful and expensive hotel.

Patara beach

We stopped at Patara beach - one of the longest beaches in Turkey, where Paul the apostle had stopped.  There is an old Lycian city here too.

Gates to Patara

Then onto Olüdeniz where mom which mom wanted to see because it was on House Hunters.  It turned out to be a ghost town because it was still early in the season.  While the beach is beautiful, we didn't even drive out to it because we were too busy looking for a hotel as nice as they last one we stayed in . . .

Instead we found the trailhead to the Lycian Way.

Entrance to the 500km walking trail - the Lycian Way

We ended up staying in Fethiye (and no, the hotel wasn't nearly as nice).

our cute hotel

Then we drove to Bodrum, a hopping party city with celebs and good shopping.

shopping around Bodrum

Mom hadn't packed many nice going out clothes, and so was constantly on the hunt for clothing she could say she bought from Turkey.



Then to Kusadasi . . .

the many of contrast of Turkey and my parents

Tolga took a week off to tour with us.  I was looking forward to my parents seeing Tolga in his natural habitat, but it just isn't the same with my dad around.  He kind of throws a wrench into everything.

First, he couldn't get over how long it takes a person to answer a question that he thinks should be simple and direct.  Tolga would ask where a particular road or hotel was and he'd have a three minute answer.  While Tolga would be speaking, my father would be trying to mimic the sounds.  "babgowro bah? skado bado ba..."  Eventually, in response to Turks, my father would resort to the Swedish phrase "ska vi leysah" or the city name "Kusadasi" ...to everything.

When we'd be bombarded by hawkers selling items - Tolga would always say "Thank you."  I thought they left us alone because he was Turkish, but I've since realized that saying thank you puts a very direct and polite end to the conversation as well.  (In Turkish, when you say thank you in response to a question, it means no).

My father started speaking in tongues.  As a teenager, I was never embarrassed about my parents, but I'm finding myself more and more embarrassed by them... .  I am all about blending into my surroundings - but my mother and father quite stubbornly hold onto their cultural ways.  Most annoyingly is their clutch on the hard a sound like in "and" versus the softer a sound as in "awning".  One month later and my mother is still saying "Is-stANbul" and "Anne" instead of "Is-stawn-bul" and "Awnnah" and her "a's" grate on me ears.

He got up to leave at four in the morning, and did well by getting out of the door by five.  We weren't in a hurry, we just wanted to make leisurely drive down to southern Turkey, possibly making some stops on the way.

It was supposed to be an eight hour drive, but we had some mixups about which route we were taking, and ended up backtracking some and making different stops.  There are so many things to see, yet we could only choose so many in one day before the day is already over.

We stopped in Egirdir for lunch - fish from the lake where the men throw their nets in the evening and collect them in the mornings.



We stopped along the road to take pictures of shepards - Turkey is full of shepards, it is the poorest work of all - yet I find the most beautiful.



We went over the Taurus mountains, and just before Antalya, we stopped at a park with waterfalls.




We spent the night in Antalya to meet up with a connection of my parents through the church.  A couple living in Turkey and we attended their church for Easter Sunday.

the tourists

My parents have come to visit me before in foreign places.  Jersey, New York, Rome . . . I was their ultimate tour guide, planning everything down to even bathroom breaks and naps.  This time I didn't, and I didn't really care.  I had some ideas, but what I didn't know was whether I'd be able keep up with them - physically, emotionally or financially.

the best sight

A baby changes everything, and I'm glad for this.  Mornings are long and slow, evenings are early, and days in the most amazing of sights carries very little significance because the best sight in the world is this small creation in our arms.  It was a good self-check for all of us.

But it wasn't enough for my mother.  She's never been an either/or sort of person - you would never hear her say, I'd like to visit the Roman ruins or walk around the lake.  She's always been a both/and person: I would like to visit the Roman ruins, walk around the lake, go out to dinner AND scour eastern Turkey along the way - with me and my two month old in tow.  She came to see her grandson AND Turkey.

Ankara isn't nearly as exciting as Istanbul, but it is the capital city and where we live.  Modern, hilly, populated.  Spring was only just beginning so everything was brown.  They only rested for two days in Ankara before we took off out for Capadoccia.  It is an area three hours south of Ankara where a volcano had left the ground soft and porous.  It has a long history of cave dwellers, and most famously during the time of Christian persecution where whole cities were built underground.  The area's erosion is a thing of beautiful pinks and tans.  Hotels are built into the caves for the tourists' sakes and the area boasts wine, pottery, hand painted ceramics, and kilims - traditional Turkish carpets.

We had rented a car and my mom kept wanting a map.  I love maps too, but I'd kind of given up on the idea in Turkey.  I had several guidebooks that my mom was reading and she came across a note that you could find a map at a gas station but the roads lacked the detail we needed.   My husband's a geologist, so you'd think I'd have access to better maps of Turkey, but road signs and maps are hard to come by.  Tolga was away on business, and we were on our own.

We had a late start.  While Tolga's parents on travel days are up and ready in the wee hours of the morning, my parents kind of amble around.  I amble around.  And preparing for our first trip Teoman was a task in itself.  It was my first time traveling with him and it was hard not to pack EVERYTHING.  It was like a trial outting - we'd only be gone for two days, but as a new mom I felt stress when thinking about when, where and how I'd feed him, put him to sleep, change him, and so on.
I didn't really care about maps.
I cared about how long Teoman rode in his car seat.  (Is it bad for his back?  Will he starve, get stuffy, get too hot?)  He had rarely cried - two short cries the day he was born, on sad cry at his one month checkup for the shot, and once when I accidentally scratched his leg while change him - and I wasn't ready to have him start crying now because of tourism.

Teoman turned out to be an excellent traveller.  He slept all the while in the car seat, and it may even helped with his gas.  We stopped twice for me to feed him, but mostly cause I wanted to pull him out of the car seat and make sure his back wasn't permanently molded to the car seat.  When we arrived in Göreme, we hadn't booked a hotel and wondered around the small streets looking at the different hotels.  I wore Teoman in my carrier, and the weather had gone from the low 60s in Ankara, to the low 70s here in Capadoccia.  We finally settled on a hotel over our budget - set in a cave with a separate sitting room and fireplace.  I was determined to keep my parents in the budget frame, but when I saw English books, an armchair, and wood in the fireplace - I lost all resolve.

breakfast at the hotel with
overbearing Turkish mom

A young sweet woman was our receptionist and host.  Her mother kept taking Teoman and fussing over him.  By the next day, she actually made him cry with all her fussing.  We had a traditional Turkish dinner in the town and watched the sunset over the valley.  We reserved the following day for the museums.  The first was an open air museum.  Crowded  even in April.  We walked around slowly with the stroller, going in and out of the caves.  At one point, I waited at the bottom of the stairs for my parents and Teoman started crying - I walked him in the stroller, but it soon became clear he was just plain hungry.  I couldn't help feeling a bit of panic.  Where would I feed him?  In a cave?  But there were way too many curious tourists in every good and cranny.  In the bathroom?  In the car?  I didn't have the key...

overlooking the valley of Capadoccia

I finally just left the open-air museum, and sat under the shade of a tree near the dirt parking lot and nursed Teoman like a goat and her kid.

The next museum I didn't go in.  I waited out in a cool tea shop and made sure I had the car key.

"fairy chimney" cave hotel

Goreme Open Air Museum

two days later

When I lived in Jersey, my friend Sal would always laugh at me because every year I would get so excited about going home to see my family, and every year the excitement would last about a day or two, and every year I would come back to Jersey complaining about my family.  My all wise friend would just shake his head and chuckle, "Rach, you love your family - you just can't live in Minnesota anymore."

Things haven't changed much.  About the third day, I had had enough.  My mother was determined to see every sight in Turkey, and Greece, while we're all at it.  I should have known better - but I really thought she'd listen to me this time . . . .  I said,
"Mom, things are different now.  I can't be your tour guide, I'm not really planning out your trip, and I'm having a hard enough time keeping track of things here.  I have a different focus."
"Of course," she said.
"So, I'm telling you - I don't want to go today.  I am tired and I want to rest."
"I understand.  Why don't you take a little rest, and then we'll go."

AGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

That's how we ended up in Ulus seeing the Roman ruin attached to mosque and hearing a sermon (or whatever you call the Islamic version of church) during the Friday service . . .

My mother was determined to have an adventure everyday, and pouted if she couldn't.  I understood her excitement, and I understood her disappointment - and it sometimes made me sick because she is me.

I had wanted to go to Ulus before, but Tolga wasn't really interested in it.  Tolga's not really interested in a whole lot of things, but I took his word for it, and never visited the place.  Now I had, and regretted it.  It was dirty, crowded, busy - not a peaceful place to take a baby out for a stroll.  After all that, we had to pick up Tolga for a doctor's appointment.  In spite of my rigid timekeeping - I got confused about the time (I'm getting confused about a lot of things since having a baby . . . ) and was late leaving to pick up Tolga.  I called him to say so, and he said, "You're in Ulus? Ulus? What are you doing in Ulus?"

Good question.

Mom kept saying: But I want to see
the Tower of Julian!

Roman ruin attached to modern mosque

Those outside listening to the service, village houses of Ulus  in the background.