Entries about tourist sites

We took the bus from Bergama to Efes, as it is called here, and stayed in nearby Selcuk, a medium sized city, not without it's charms. Now that we were getting to southern Turkey, it had a much more tropical feel.

There was a beautiful old mosque.
















And a round stone castle not far from a pedestrian mall that was closed to traffic, with shops and restaurants. The weekly market took place right in front of our hotel, hours after our arrival, and we stocked up on different types of feta, delicious tomatoes, olives of all kinds, and strawberries. It was more than enough for lunch and dinner. The non food section of the market was less interesting. Mostly it was bargain clothes, probably made in China. Wandering around the back streets of Selcuk, these ladies were kind enough to let me take their picture.

Efes itself was a bit of a disappointment after Pergamum. Although larger and more extensive, the setting is not so lovely, and the place was packed with tourists from all over, even in the hot sun of mid-afternoon. Where you are allowed to walk is also quite restricted because of the numbers. Nonetheless, it is worth a visit, in part because some of the buildings have been tastefully reconstructed and you get a sense a just how large a city it was.

We arrived here, at the Odyssey Guesthouse in Bergama, in a downpour which continued for most of the day. We did laundry, and more or less hung out, reading the copy of the Odyssey that was in every room. We did make a brief foray to see the old Roman Basilica nearby,and stopped in a carpet and gift shop and chatted with the owner, a handicapped man of about 60, whose English was quite good. He told us about his children in North Carolina, and said how lucky we were to be born in America. Quite true, despite the crazy politics of our country today. He was quick to add that Turkey is much better off now than it was just a few years ago, something which echoed Martine's comments in Istanbul.


Back Streets of Bergama near Guesthouse

Today however, is truely glorious, with blue skies and bright sun. We hiked up the back way to the old acropolis, clamoring over stone walls and ascending herd paths up the steep green hills. By going this way we managed to avoid the tour groups until we got to the very top, and by then most of them were going in the opposite direction.

The ruins, often overlooked by many on their way to Ephesus, are impressive. It was one of my favorite sites in this country of ruins. Many Corinthian and Ionian columns still standing tall, glistened white in the sun. Some of the original details of the temple friezes are still present.










There is an enormous 10,000 seat amphitheater carved into the hillside, a homage to Zeus, but apparently the site of political speeches.

The ancient city, which dates to 400-500 BC, was successively occupied by Greeks, Romans, Arabs, and then Turks. Home to over 200,000 people in its heyday, it was known as Pergamum.

On the way down, we skirted the teleferique and climbed back over the stone walls to the narrow alleys of upper Bergama.







View of the City with Basilica







We then walked to the other set of ruins on the opposite side of town, known as the Asklepieion. It dates to about 300BC, but which was at its height in 100 AD, as a vast medical center. It also had complete mental institution with a dream interpretation center, and hot and cold herbal treatments, for those with psychological ailments. Freud had nothing on the Greeks. Though somewhat less impressive than the stadium on the hill, there was a smaller amphitheater of 2-3000, perhaps where Galen and others performed surgeries. Death was officially forbidden to enter, but it seems as though gravely ill patients, those who were clearly dying and/or pregnant, were not allowed in the first place. I guess the doctors felt they had to stack the deck in their favor.

Back at the Odyssey Guesthouse terrace, I gaze out at the crumbling brick walls of the Basilica (100 AD), old tile roofs in the foreground, and green hills beyond. I can make out some of the older ruins dotting the hills leading up to the acropolis on my left.

This is a very friendly town. All of the kids we meet are eager to practice their English, and people go out of their way to show you where things are if you need help. While bigger than Ayvalik, it feels more relaxed because it is not a resort.

In a little while, we will have tea or coffee with Alex, who we met in a locanta yesterday. Though Turkish, he lived in Astoria, Queens for many years and has recently returned to his country for a different job, and to help take care of his family. When we arrived at the cafe, he was already there with another Turkish friend who spoke no English. He said he brought his friend because he didn't know the city very well, having just moved here less than two months ago. This friend called yet another friend who had a car, and we proceeded out of town, first to an outdoor place that was not really open, and then to another restaurant in a small indoor mall. They ordered for us, a large mezze plate, pizza, a bulgar dish, salad, and mixed kabobs for all, even though we tried to tell them we weren't hungry, as we were expecting only a light snack. The friend with a car, Osman, teaches comparative religion in the local high school, where it is compulsory. He spent several years living in Syria, where he attended university and worked as a journalist.

And so we began asking questions, translated by Alex, about Syria, Iran, and the Middle East in general. Osman felt that Turkey used to get along well with its neighbors, but no longer, in part because of the situation with Israel and the United States. He said he thought that Iran will gradually liberalize, but is unsure what will happen with Assad. About Israel and Palestine, he seemed to agree that Israel should give up the settlements and the occupied territories, and that there needed to be a two state solution.

What was striking to us, is that Alex did not feel free to express his opinions to his friends because, as he later put it, he is Turkish, and yet he is not Turkish. He is Muslim, and yet he is not. A man caught between two cultures, he nevertheless insisted on paying for everyone. When we asked about his family, that is when we found out that his father recently died unexpectedly during routine back surgery, and Alex, as the oldest son felt responsible. He initially came to the US in his early 20's, after getting a very good job with Alitalia, the Italian airline. He said he had many problems because he was so young, and the office politics were complicated. It was apparently a high pressure job, but after therapy, (how typically New York), he decided that he had to leave, and ended up going to Bolivia to study Spanish in 2006. It was almost the total opposite life from what he had been living before. As it turns out, he was also married to a psychologist, though now he is divorced. We didn't get the whole story of what happend after Bolivia, but now that he is back in Turkey, he feels it is his responsibility to take care of all the problems in his family, something he didn't feel living in the United States. We exchanged emails and offered each other a standing invitation to come and visit. A most interesting man, and a fascinating evening talking politics with people whose views we would never get to hear.

A reminder once again of why I travel. It is because of chance encounters like this one, unrepeatable and unique to the moment.

Siem Reap, home to Angkor Wat, is a boom town with new hotels springing up overnight, though one wonders if they will ever fill up all the rooms despite the two million farangs who come here each year. We have met people from China, Korea,Japan, South Africa, New Zealand, Britiain, Singapore, and a few from the States, some of whom are teaching in international schools in China.

The ruins are vast and we were lucky to have the services of Bon, our indefatigable tuk tuk driver who accompanied us everywhere, knew some of the history, and even told us where to eat lunch.





In the main temple area there are archways upon archways opening into each other, and creating a sense of perspective that suggests infinite space. We have been told that it symbolizes the beginning of the universe with Mt. Mera, a sacred peak, at the top. There is also a blending of Indian and Khmer influences, Hindu and Buddhist, that have been built up over successive generations. Unfortunately a number of old stone heads and other artifacts have been stolen by private thieves and museums, and of course, Pol Pot did his best to destroy the place. But no matter, Angkor has survived all of these things, and continues to impress with its sense of timelessness. I am bigger than all of those of have tried to destroy me, it seems to say, and I will be here long after you are gone

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While the architecture is Khmer, some of the carvings are clearly Indian in origin.

One of my favorite places was the temple of Bayon, with its enormous 30+ feet high Buddhist heads. It is part of Angkor Thom, which is even older than Angkor Wat, dating back to 800-900 AD.

In Ta Prahm, the jungle is taking over.






Even in three very full days we did not see it all.







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We continue to be amazed by the Cambodian people. Yesterday while we were at the ruins, we were approached by a ten year old girl trying to sell us postcards and water. Nothing unusual about that. Then she asked" Where you from?"

" New York", I said.
"Where in New York?"
"Near New York City," my standard response.
Then she said, "Capital of New York not New York City. Capital Albany."
"That's where we live." I said.

This of course, was quite impressive, but she then proceeded to rattle off the names and capitals of all 50 states, something not many ten year olds could do in the states.

"How did you learn all that"?
" Oh, she says, "Just talking to tourists like you."

Just to give the full picture, this was not a well off educated kid, but basically a street kid living by selling things at Angkor. Whereever we went, just about everyone spoke some English, essential I guess to trying to get ahead. Even the tuk tuk drivers, are studying English dictionaries when they are waiting for their customers. What spirit.

Of course, there are always two sides to getting ahead. Yesterday we got into a long conversation with the cook at our hostel, who happens to be the niece of the owner. She told us all about her uncle, Kim, who runs the Okay guest house in Pnom Penh. As the oldest brother, he is the family patriarch and determined to become wealthy and help out his extended family. Based on what we saw, he seems well on the way to doing this. Kim has already helped a different brother buy a guest in another part of Siem Reap. This makes three owned by the same family. Mostly they are modest places, but as business picks up I'm sure they will go on to purchase more upscale hotels. At the same time, our tuk tuk driver Bon, who we pay $15 a day, hardly sees any of this. He works for the the guest house, and they only pay him about $20 a month, plus he has to help out in 'the restaurant after driving all day. We have grown quite fond of him and tried to help out as best we could by giving him a big tip, and also showing him how to use the internet to create an email address. He got a big kick out of this, but unfortunately we never heard back from him.

We fly to Luang Prabang tomorrow afternoon.

What they say around here is that the Cambodians plant the rice, Thais sell the rice, and the Laotians listen to the sound of it growing.

We took a long car ride to the airport, and then a short, cheap flight to get here, saving us many hours on the bus. In this most famous of Burma's ancient sites, we were met by Yu Yu's cousin, who we first thought was her brother. Yu Yu, for those just tuning in, is one of my English students in Rensselaer, New York. Through the efforts of her cousin and several of his colleagues, all of whom work on a 10 year hotel construction project near the ruins, they had borrowed a company car, and took turns showing us the pagodas. As each of them gets a total of one day off a month, this was no small sacrifice, and yet they acted really pleased that we had come to see them. Bagan is huge, much like Anchor Wat, and takes several days to see. It is comprised of hundreds of pagodas, and temples, many of which date back 1000 years, as it was the site of number of ancient empires. The buildings are mostly made of red brick and stone.


In the morning and early afternoon we viewed some of the oldest, though they didn't always look it, because many had been restored after a major earthquake hit in 1975.





A Sense of Scale



Not appearing very impressive at first, the ruins really come alive as the sun settles lower in the sky, and the bricks reflect the warmer oranges and pinks of the afternoon sky, instead of the white heat of mid-day.

Rebuilt and Old Pagodas

Photo by Nanette




It is dry here, even more so than Mandalay, and dusty in this period before the rains begin in June. Bagan has had a serious drought during the last several years, and the Irrawady lies low on its banks. We were told it increases in flow and size many times during a normal rainy season.






In the afternoon we took a dip in our hotel pool. It is a relatively upscale place with air-con, a welcome change after the rigors of the monastery. Late in the day we were again picked up by our new friends to look at more pagodas, and also the construction site, of which they all seem very proud. When it finally opens, it will be the fanciest and most expensive place to stay in Bagan. It is hard to imagine that it doesn't have some government connection, though they told us it was privately financed.

At sunset we climbed up the narrow stairs of a nearby pagoda to watch the sun set over the river.





Then it was back to company headquarters to meet the family. They served us cold drinks and Burmese appetizers.

Left to Right: Cousin, his Daughter, Work Colleagues, Cousin's Wife, Another Spouse



We switched to a company van so that everyone fit in, and drove to some of the other pagodas and zedis that were lit up at night. It felt quite special.

On day two we took a horse drawn tuk-tuk because the company car was not available. Once again the engineers took turns acting as tour guides. It was an adventure, as the narrow dirt roads were rutted and bumpy, and the cart was small for three people. At one point I lost my grip and almost bounced out.

Power Rangers appeared out of nowhere and ran after us, grabbing hold of the back of the buggy.

We narrowly escaped by ducking behind some of the many Buddhas.

Above by Nanette

Cousin's wife had prepared a lunch of mohinga after we said how much we liked it. They served us in their simple home at the construction site, and in typical Burmese fashion everyone sat around and watched while we ate the bowls upon bowls of spicy noodles, and then more bowls of fruit. They seemed grateful to us for our interest in them, and for the opportunity to talk to foreign visitors about their lives and culture. We too felt grateful for their incredible generosity and openness.



After lunch, more pagodas.






Inside Mural

Temple Detail

At the end of the day, we clip-clopped on the paved road to town, in order to deliver the third and final letter from our Burmese student at home. We were told it was for someone fairly well known locally, but were it not for the efforts of our engineering friend, we never would have found Ki Ki. He seemed a bit suspicious when he saw us, checking up and down the street to see if anyone was watching as we handed him the envelope. As it turned out, his suspicions might have been justified. When we returned to our hotel, Dr. Win Myint (our erstwhile spy,) was talking to someone in the lobby. Oh no, we thought, not him again. We were hundred of miles from Yangon, and so this could hardly be a coincidence. We became more convinced than before, that he was a government agent.

"Dr Myint, what a coincidence. What brings you to Bagan?"

"Oh, I'm here to meet a Swiss tour group," he said nonchalantly.

"I see."

"When do you return to Yangon?" he asked. "Nanda (the Burmese monk we had met in Bangkok) wants to know."

Hmmn, I thought, why wouldn't Nanda email us directly, as he had done in the past? I was deliberately vague with my answer. " We're not sure about our itinerary, so I don't really know."

We rambled on with small talk, and then I realized that Dr Myint obviously had his own ways of finding out where we were. I should have asked to take his picture, but didn't think of it at the time. It would have been interesting to see his response.


The next day we rented bikes on our own to explore more of the nearby ruins, and spent much of the day relaxing by the pool. Luckily, we did not run into Dr. Myint again. In the end, I suspect luck had nothing to do with it, but we were thankful nonetheless.


When we left at dawn, our Burmese friends insisted on driving us to the airport, and once again, we were showered with gifts and souvenirs. How could we refuse? Of course we didn't, knowing full well we would have to leave some of our stuff in Bangkok and buy an extra bag to to lug it all home.

After a couple of days at the monastery, we were ready to go to some of the nearby villages to see the "tourist attractions." Ni Ley accompanied us, as we set off in one of the tiny, 50 year old, blue taxis that dart around the city. Dart is not an apt word here. Plod is more like it, as they don't move very fast and they are certainly not comfortable. Nevertheless we hired one for the day and it was off to Amarapura, site of the royal capital in 1841 or so. On the way we stopped to see what appeared to be a thousand or more monks, lined up with their rice bowls to receive their last meal of the day, lunch. They were a lot of foreign tourists as well, anxious to get the best pictures.

We continued to U Bein , a long footbridge over a shallow (in the dry season) lake. More than 200 hundred years old, and made of nearly indestructible teak, it is is one of the most famous sites in Burma. After walking across and back in the mid-day heat, we were glad to stop at one of the lakeside restaurants.











From there our bone-jarring ride took us to Sagaing, where we had to climb the many, many steps to get to the top of the hill. Thankfully, a shade platform covered most of them. There is an impressive Buddha here, and views of another 500 pagodas and monasteries on the hill overlooking the Irrawady River.












Taking a Much Needed Rest at the Top




Next was Inwa, which served as the capital for 400 years before Amarapura. To get there we had to cross a bridge built by the British, take a boat across the river, and then a horse drawn cart to view the spread out ruins. We didn't have enough time or energy to see all of it, as we had to get back for a visit with Yu Yu's uncle.






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On another day we climbed to the top of Mandalay Hill, located right behind the monastery.

Palace Wall With View of Mandalay Hill in Background





There were nice views of the city spread out below.

And as always we were accompanied by a contingent of monks.






That evening, we went to a nearby tea house for dinner, once again with Ni Ley who didn't eat of course. I asked what led up to his becoming a monk, 11 years earlier at the age of 15.

"I was very happy during the time I was a novitiate, and made many friends. At the time, it seemed like monks could do many things, but not now. I am unhappy now, and worry about my family who are poor farmers, and have to support me. What it will be like when they get older? I want to leave Burma so I can find a way to help them, but don't know how. What should I do?"

We discussed getting a passport and a visa, perhaps first for Thailand. We said we would sponsor him to come to the US, and would check into the process for him.

He said that in the past few months he thought about crossing over the border illegally. He was worried about what might happen in the upcoming elections in October. Perhaps there would be more crackdowns on monks.

We told him how to apply for a passport, and that a legal visa for Thailand was not difficult to obtain. We reiterated that we would speak to our Burmese friends in the states to find out how they managed to obtain their visas, but that this would have to wait until our return.

Silently, I wondered whether this was realistic. How likely was it that he would ever get visa for the US?

Another example of the desperation people feel.