Road to Romania

So the plan was to travel from Denizli to Bucharest.  11 hours to istanbul, then another 11 hours to Romania.
All on the bus!
The first bus ride was fine - I wrote the last three posts or so and drunk free bus ride drinks.  I've been wondering on my trip when that really bad things going to happen.  That famous story people tell at dinner about the time when they were travelling and everything went wrong.  So far I've had a sweet time, really.
  I mentioned this to David, though probably in an incorrect way; 'David - something's got to go wrong soon!' he got angry 'what the hell sofe don't say that we're fine'

So we arrive in the familiar old Istanbul. Not so familiar - it's cold and grey.  Dark clouds are building. And the people are rushing around grumpily - its 7 oclock on a monday morning.  We drag our luggage around to the bus companys we suspect have buses to Romania.
  'they come every four hours from Katakoy' someone had told us ages ago.
The first company 'bus full'
next company 'no bus'
another company 'no buses until Friday'.
The next day is Ead - a pubic holiday - perhaps everyone is getting out of town?
Bus to Bulgaria?  Any trains? Other companys? Cheap flights? Anything!?
We were hopeless and no one wanted to help us.  It was the first time Turkey had really been cold to us - and not just literally. The workers were rude and knew nothing.
We find an internet cafe, begin to search bus comapanies and calling them. 'Bus to Bulgaria, Bus to Romania. Any bus. Any bus out of Istanbul. TODAY!'

We had no hope, but so much determination not to spend another day in Istanbul.

At last one lady answered our call who spoke no english but could say 'bus to Romania' '51 and 52 leaving 3:00' or something vague like that.
We sprint out of the cafe and catch a ferry across Istanbul to the address of the company (the worker of the cafe gave us directions).
We were lead in circles through unfamiliar, industrial alleys until we finally found a little bus port.
Al hamdullilah !  We buy the last two tickets.

So nothing actually went wrong, sorry for scaring you at the beginning of the blog, but it was a pretty scary time.

We eat out last 1 dollar kebab (then later complain about how sickening it was)
And get on our bus.

Two Romanian women sit in our seats.  We tell them this (because in the past we've had to move for others and have learnt its best to just find your seat in the beginning) and they start complaining with a 'so what' attitude in Romanian as they smoke cigarettes.  You can smoke on Romanian buses.  Some kids start sqealing on the drivers microphone.  This lasts around 5 minutes and all the adults did was scream back.  All I understood was the english expression 'mother fucker'.  The bus starts moving with half the bus standing, arguing about seats, luggage space and whether or not we should be able to smoke while the child is sitting on the bus.  The mother should stand at the front of the bus if she cares so much.
  They never stopped talking.  I had some nice conversations in arbaic with a man originally from Syria, and a couple from Iran.  Interesting to hear the different accents and terms which I generally understood from various villiages in Palestine.
I never knew what Romaninas were meant to be like but I didn't expect such noisy rowdiness.
Crossing the Bulgarian border, I smuggled ciggarettes, perfume and clothes in for some women who had too much luggage / things bought from customs.  It could have had drugs in it, I know, but my Syrian friend insured me there was no problem.....and I wasn't truly given a choice.

I wake up in Bucharest at 4 am and sleepily taxied to our couch surfers home.
Dani welcomed us into his apartment warmly, followed by the most beautifull woman in the world; Aniela.  Who I admire to be one day.  They lit up our path to bed.

A poem.

  The curse of the wind
Of the path
of everything;
The very thing that makes you stay in bed.

  It's with the swelling of your heart
And the choking of your breath
thinking this is all that got me out of bed.
This is all that's worth it in my head.

And as you leave
you can't believe
out of all that you have seen
That it's this stupid word again that you have said:

Oh Goodbye,
So good to know you,
I have to see you all again!
Come to Australia - it's not far -
  (Though the futures even further...)

  For when you travel on the road
There is one thing no one knows;
When your going
 and to where
What our destiny should bear !?

The real question one does wonder
is what awaits me there?
Why'd it choose me, etc
And the traveller forgets too see
The absolute stupidity of travelling searching
round so dumb
Photographing what will never come again
For searching always searching round
and losing all these things you've found
And incidently making them lose you.

The traveller is on the run
From love and loyalty
All for the fun
of searching searching
learning more
of someone else's stupid war
  And loving all the deep and meaning
To which you'll have to say again

Oh Goodbye,
So good to know you,
I have to see you all again!
Come to Australia - it's not far -
  (Though the futures even further...)

And as you leave,
you can't believe.
After of all that you have seen
It's this stupid useless word you've said
This word you've used before and swore
You'd never again
You'd rather die
You'd rather not have said hello at all!
Than say this stupid word again
Goodbye.

Becoming a biker in Denizli

izzet on one of the choppers

Denizli
So I organized our couch surfing for turkey, meaning the itinery was in my hands and I was rather nervous about it all.
Excited but nervous.  So far everything had been fine! But I took a chance and guessed that if we couch surfed in Denizli
we could visit the tourist attraction Pamukkale from there.  The couchsurfer guy looked sooo cool, sitting on a chopper in his
profile picture and I never once doubted I'd like him.  But arriving in Denizli (an hour early as usual) I wondered what
people do here exactly.
The town is huuuuuuuuge and colourful (typically) amongst these green pictuesque mountains.  Izzet (our host) picked us up
from the bus stop and we fell in love in minutes.  David and I put our feet up, began to make bad jokes,
laughing at them - and most certainly not caring.
  I will put you in context - I am currently sitting on the 11 hour bus from Denizli to Istanbul.  We just had to say goodbye
a few hours ago - to Izzet but the gang also.  They were so keen to accept us into their gang, and I was so willing to stay
learn turkish learn to ride a motorbike and to just see them again everyday.  They were a group of those really good people
this world has.  Really genuine loyal and fun.
  The shared house of the gang also hosted a Korean, Sin Hyun, and ."three germans." (who was one german one chezch and one
british).  In the evening we would dance from Turkish style to Gangdam style with a guitar or no - no one really minded.
Gangdam style is this modern Korean song and dance often played in clubs - now the second most played
video on youtube - every turkish person knows it.  Sin Hyun knew it very well, too, and was more than happy to teach us the
moves.
  Its really the funnest thing watching these motor cycle bad boys dancing and singing and mucking around. They were the
sweetest people and nothing superfluous.

  Our second day in Denizli we went to Pamukkale with the other couch surfers.  It was awesome.  After walking through
fields of ruined tombs from the hellenistic ages we found the mountains cliff face.  After decades of this peculiar
cement growing here, the cliff is frosted over with natural white cement, like sand or water it reflects the pattern of the
 wind's moment, but it has captured this moment.  Or at least, it lives in a much slower time frame - for these patterns
are engraved and evolve all too slowly.  We walked along the natural pools of the cliff and splashed around as the water
became hot (and weather became really cold).  As soon as we got into the bus home it rained yipee
  I forgot to put batteries in my camera :P
We had another musical night eating sesame seeds - though it took a while to convince the guitarists girlfriend not to be
jealous of the foreign girls hanging around...
the next day we went off roading!

In two cars (the other couch surfers had now moved on) we drove through up round the mountains bump bump bump
beautiful view and stopped to boil turkish tea half way.  You wouldn't find our in jokes funny even if I explained their
history, but the wonderful thing was that we all got along so well.  Like we'd known eachother all our lives.

da gang by the cooking of tea

gang of posers

izzet s2

  And then we said goodbye.

Antalya

 
  Couch surfing has truly made our journey.  After the amazing experience of staying with the
turkish family, we were blessed with a really lovely guy in Antalya.
Antalya is one of the more popular beach cities of Turkey along the meditteraean.  After all the hiking in Cappadocia
we were so excited to be lazy.  We spent the first day on the beach before going back to Adil's to make salad and paint.
That night he took us out to dinner! We sat by a view of the ocean, or an extended sky which reflected the moon and the
city's night life.  More importantly, We sat across from the band - three incredible musicians interchaning acoustic guitar,
bass, vocals, sax and the flute.  Adil knew the owner so we had wonderful service and an unforgettable evening.  Couchsurfing
also has enabled us to hear a variety of differing historiographies based on the forming of turkey.  For example, most people
we'd met were ardent supporters of Atatuk's regime.  Adil, however, enlightened us with the true story of how Atatuk took
power and implemented a neo-fascist government.  This forced immediate secularization - cutting out all arabic culture like
the alphabet and much vocab.  There are now problems in tghe Turkish language because the western alphabet can't differentiate
sounds.
Dinner gave me a taste for comfort, and I decided that the next day we'd get a Turkish Hamman just for my mum ;)
We did, as well as explore the old city, before going to a club playing live pop music...had a groove and woke up a few hours

after our hammam ! 

just the usual

ate a muscle stuffed with ricey tomato goodness on the beach !

later for our bus to the myssterious Denizli!

Cappadocia !

travelling never goes as planned.
David and I have looked back on our journey so far and even the simplest of days have been
full of surprizes and shocks.  Why bother making a plan? It gets you on your path to find
what God has planned for you.

  We arrived in Cappadocia at 9am, I call our new, mysterious couch surfer and hear that
we cant go to the house until 7/6pm and to call him then frm the bus stop...
no problem. Problem yoke.
We arrange with a "french speaking" man to leave our bags at the bus stop and hitch hike
to another local villiage where more tourists go.
info centre tells us to go to the Goreme open air museum, so we go and on our way we meet
a Bosnian who shares with us tea and tells us a good hike to take.  We first go to the museam.
OK so Cappadocia is amazing.
The people who originally settled in the mountanous landscape were all christians, around
9th century, earlier even.  The Romans (until the Romans gave it over to the Byzantines etc)
So many churches built into the rocks, with the most intricate pictures and designs depicting
the bible.  As the biblical script was in latin, and many people were against latin at this time,
the only way to teach people the stories were through this art work.  So it had a lot of
care put into it.

  It's the afternoon, over 30 degrees, food's too expensive to buy here, we have until 6/7,
 why not start a hike?  We started walking through Red Valley, jumped into Rose Valley,
found ourselves wandering up the sun set view etc.
Stunning.
The next four days we based on such hikes around the huge land of cappadocia (which is separated
into many different towns).  Only the photos can try to explain the beauty of these days.
But four days hiking would leave us weak at the end of our days...
We couldn't have asked for better couch surfing hosts.
  Mahmut picked us up that evening and drove us to his home in a little town of cappadocia.
A more suburban town, though carrying it's fair share of history and treks.
  Mahmut lives with his mother Hatije and sister Pillin and they welcomed us warmly -
Whilst Pillin speaks good English and taught us much about turkish history and culture, their
mother could only say 'oh shit!' which she'd learnt from TV.  The mother was unwell after hurting
her back some time ago and remained on the couch mostly, though with a smile always she was
a pleasure to talk with.  We spent the evenings cooking turkish food - which I've learnt
consists of a lot of really good butter bought from the farmers.  Mayonaise and tomato sauce
is also used a lot... We ate turkish ravioli, Mousakha (with meat), and a dish with bread cut up
and mixed with chicken bits, a tomatoe cooked with butter sauce and yoguhrt.
  We had so much fun together.  We left with them drawings I've drawn, a lot of food (sweets)
we bought for them, a card, and many memories.  In turn, they gave me a book in turkish...
not sure what to do with it...a t shirt each, a knitted love heart thingy each and it
gets crazier - Their neighbour, in turn, gave us a bag of hazlenuts each.
I loved them, as they're only grown here in turkey and italy and i'd never eaten hazlenuts
not in cadbury chocolate before.
  But by a bag each I mean 10 kilos each.  A Huge shopping bag each.
  While I'll be leaving some at each couch surfers's home, and nibbling on some myself
throughout the day, i'll try and bring some home to share with my family and friends (which
is what they wanted me to do) but for three months I am not carrying this extra weight
around.

Oh but on maybe our third day of hiking through Pigeon valley we found ourselves at a very
dangerous point.  Imagine a thin fence with spheres lining the top of it.  The fence was
made of sandy rock and was about 100 metres high, dipping vertically into a deep valley.
  The trek we'd wandered into demanded you to walk over these spheres (which have a four
 metre diametre).  To climb up them was impossible.  We would be climbing and bits of the rock
would crumble in our hands and we'd slide down again.
  We thought we'd have to go allllll the way back on our path, past the viscious viscous dogs
(which I think was the real worry) and maybe find another path, some 4k behind us.
  But I saved the day!!!
I went wandering through the rose bushes leading over the mountain to the other side of the valley -
you could see that the valley was like a Y shape. It was the same old sturggle - climbing
over a steep sandy cliff, but I started climbing anyway and I got to the top !!!! From there you
could walk around and over to another path leading down another valley.  I called David up
and from there (a magnificent view of noses - all shapes and sizes!) we found our new path

and it lead to a little man's home and we chilled there and put our legs up for a while listening about his four wives and lost turtles - he gave me a turtle!

Every day was similar - a wonderful hike, coming home to a loving and beautiful family.  Only the photos can really try to share it with you, really

Summer in the City

  We had become confident travellers of the city by now, and after spending the previous
day searching for Georgia (amongst the other things I mentioned in the last post) By our 3rd
day we finally found her !!! We met at the ferry port for Princes Island and after gossiping
out the front of the ticket office for a while we decided to board a ferry.
  Rather than go to Princes Island, we got off the ferry early arriving in a homely and
rather European looking island, full of little fishermen and bicycle riding folk, with cute
little gardens around their beachy houses...
  We walked around for a while, splashed about, scavenged in the shells, and along our
path we strolled past some locals BBQing fish by the sea.  We didn't end up strolling past,
however, as they insisted we sit with them and taste their fish.  And sip their arak, and
finish off their salad, their halva, etc
  It was soooo delicious !!! Only one man spoke english, though the others used enough
expressions for some communication.
  The turkish/kurdish share the same values concerning hospitality as the arabs do, and, too,
eat pretty similar food with a pretty similar style.  though the weird thing is most turkish
 people don't relate themselves to arabs at all. They seem to look more to their differences
than similarities.  And there are many, as the turkish are obviously much more influenced by
Europe and Asia.

Our last day in istanbul
we wandered over to katakoy where its party town at night (though it was day time) with
georgia.  We got lost on our way to some tourist church and found ourselves at what seemed
like (never asked) a second hand book festival!! I bought a collection of old turkish photos
and postcards! hehe and a cheap little book (which!!! my couch surfing host just said yesterday
is his favourite book though hes never read it - he didnt even know I had it! I gave it
to him tout suite and he's so thankfukl - he then gave me some book in turkish...)
  Evening fell and the bars were all over-touristy and dear so we bought few bottles of white wine
a fresh fish/salad sandwich (they're made by the fishermans by the sea sooo cheaply- $2) and
watched the sun set at the peer, looking over the main city of istanbul's silhouette -
of sparkling mosques and churches sparkling over the beach city.
  at 10 pm david and I had to take our night bus to Cappadcia!! we were so late, talking

to an english speaker, but david ran ahead and we made it

The Colourful Constantinople

Istanbul!!
The most colourful city of Asian, Arabic and European styles, colours, language, life
Loud, as they seem to yell on top of eachother
Always smelling like fresh fish cooked on the side of the bay
And freshly baked bread
mmmmm
the food is so good.

The Blue mosque (wasnt so blue inside)

  From Marhaba to Merhaba!
I was welcomed to Istanbul - the colourful Constantinople - to discover no body spoke english.  I slept at the airport for a few hours before David came - a few people would interrupt me in Turkish.
  I soon learnt that even after saying 'sorry, I don't speak turkish' the Turkish people aren't bothered - they still continue to speak Turkish to you and suppose you know what they're on about.
  I found David easily (once his flight arrived) and we began our three bus journey through the city.  Rockily maneavering through and away into the outer suburbs.  The houses grew and shrunk - stripey purples reds and whites - and we wondered where our directions were taking us.
I found a contact to stay with on couch surfing, see, and we were following his directions to his home.

Once we found his house, in a little family orientated suburb of the Asian side (there's the asian side and the European side) we were stuck out the front for an hour discussing with the neighbours - who spoke zero english, naturally.  They explained that Emre wouldnt be home until 6 but we could stash our bags at their house.
  So we began to hike around the suburbs (I still felt a bit ill but I found some pills in my bag from a previous food poisnoning and they helped a lot).  We found a tiny little Ottoman mosque which was simply delightful - blues and white floral tiling, and became friends with some bus drivers who would keep driving past and helping us - dropping us off places they supposed we needed (I'm still not sure) or passing us onto other bus drivers with notes written in Turkish.
  Finally we got home, eager to speak to a local (Emre) in english and learn about this strange country.
Emre was really great. And answered all questions.
  Day 2
We made it to the European side of the river - caught a ferry! - and Bam.  This is where the english speakers find work.  This is where the tourists lie.  First stop - AyaSofia - Absolutely beautifull. Thanks Taita for insisting I go.  Then the blue mosque; also breath taking.  The art work and skill, one.  The history, another.  Next we wandered into a museum based on Turkish and Islamic art.
So glad we found that one because I now understand the history of the Ottoman -
The original Turkish are in fact from Asia.

The next day we wandered through the loud and claustrauphobic with details and movement everywhere
The spice market and the grand bazaar.
God, I hate shopping. Everything was so beautiful - it all glistened and seem to hover around me and fat salesmen were all so greedy and the long corridor of little trinkets and stalls never ever ended.
Finally we got out and sat in a mosque for prayer time
I forget it's name, but it was soothing.


  That night Emre took us out to Taksim for pre drinks a bar which played live turkish folk music before going to a crazy club where everyone drunk this weird concoction of 15 different alchohols probably mixed with red bull - you bought and drunk it by the bottle - called 'rapist drink'.  Don't worry mum, got home happy and somehow woke up happier.
  So the young Istanbulians get really very drunk.  Though they're conservative at the same time, often.

grand bazaar! ahh

spice market!! ahh!

That's all for now!

Better get some sleep

Bin Shoofik, ya Philistine

Ahh! My letters type from left to write on my lap top at last!
For I am in turkey, where the people stress is not arabic.
Though  first I shall some up leaving palestine;

Leaving Palestine was at first mentally difficult.
Inconcievable.
The idea of Australia had become surreal - like a life from a dream. The idea of travelling turkey/morrocco etc was even more alien,
My friends and family in Palestine have become the muscles of heart,
and my network / community widely spread across the land could keep me preoccupied
for another couple of months...which then become years and so on.

Finally finished the paintin :)

  So I began to say 'I'm leaving Palestine in two weeks!' in disbelief, and
as even with the realization, nothing changed around me, I just kept living.
  Living in Palestine the last month was so easy.
  Living was Sulaiman and Gianna involved late night discussions of spirituality
and (no way?) politics whilst nibbling on grapes and peaches, drinking wine
from bethlehem and beer from Taybeh.  Midnight feasts of egg and vegetables,
and many meetings of new people.
Rewind
Gianna I met painting, she wandered into Mayada's centre and began to help me.  We clicked instantaneously, and over the next few days we saw eachother a lot, suddenly. We would suggest excursions to each other, and always either one of us would willingly agree! She's a free spirited kind of gal, why she always comes back to Palestine... (its a very freespirited, ruleless, timeless, kind of city)
and she excites the liberty of my self.


  I introduced Gianna and Sulaiman though a tumblance of events, and all too inevitably they hooked up and Gianna moved in with us ... !!! Thus the house became a party

In between living at Sulaimans, I stayed in Nilin twice.  Living there for over a week.  Though if i had have gone there first I might have lived there months.
  The best thing I did in Palestine.  I was living with Saeed's family, who made everything
by hand.  Harvested their own wheat, olives, olive oil, and did the processes with
the most care and love it made my heart swell with peace.
  If the most rascist of soldiers tasted this food, they would become angels, I'm sure.

  The whole village shared their olive fields after so much of their land was stolen,
and conseqiently divide the olives they harvest/oil they produce from another's land.

every family spoke of hectares and hectares of stolen land,
and every boy over 14 had been to jail, pretty much (though they go fromthe age of 12,
as palestinians are classified as a "men" by this age)

The air was clean, the people were honest and kind.  I was in heaven.
Sleeping at Saeed's grandparents house was a ball. They spoke no english, and each night
was a game of charades as we played cards, gave massages, and ate feasts of
heavenly food.

Over 2 thousand years old the olive tree was that he wore crutches!

  It was so sad to leave them ... they cried :(


Last full day of Palestine was my day to Safad.
With Gila, who is seeing Sulaiman too, and Gianna...who is seeing Sulaiman too,
Gilas brother who is a commander in the army, and Sulaiman who has been in Prison
for 10 years.
Our differences and similarities inspired great conversation and the day was full of
laughing, some crying, and constant fun.  Gilas brother was really very kind, and later
spoke with me about how much
he appreciated hearing the story from our eyes, it being his first time (as an army
commander) to talk civilly with Palestinians.

I was very lucky to make such beautiful friends who drove me to Safad - they knew
how much it meant to me, and organized it the last day I had, dealing with eachothers
differnces to share it with me.
  After researching flour mills on google (my family owned a flour mill in safad)
we found just one.  It being a public jewish holiday, and Sfat (safad) a very
conservative city, we bought sharma elsewhere and had a picnic...
WE FOUND OURSELVES EXACTLY at the flourmill !!! in the middle of a forest valley!
It was stuning.


Safad itself is still catching up to me.  Very Jewish.  Though the land is so beautifull.
Breathtaking.  An ancient city situated in the green mountains, looking over
the sea of Galilee, lebanon, Syria, circled by springs and haloed with littlebirds.
  I've been so impressed with the beauty of the land where my family lived.

  The people who live there now seem happy. A little serious maybe - black and white.


Leaving Palestine soon became physically difficult.

The night coming home from Safad left me with food poisoning allllll the hours until
my flight.

By the bus ride the vomiting had ceased by i was weaving in and out of sleep with a fever.
the people, or angels, perhaps, seemed to pass me on from one bus (or cloud?) to another
and I got to Tel aviv with two hours in time for sleep.
I hadnt even realized I was going to Turkey

palestinian rhapsody

  I've been avoiding this.
I owe you an update of, what, the last month maybe?
Heres a brief one:
I've roamed the jungles and swum in the springs of the forgotten villiage Lifta,
I've guided my friend in and out of Palestinian marriage,
I've camped in the Golan;
I've skinny dipped Sea of Galilee and the Jordan river
dipping in and out of cooling springs and hot hot valleys
poisoned myself in the spring...
was convinced into Zionism...I can explain
Danced my way through Tel Aviv
became a hobo in Tel Aviv...just for the night
Forgot all about Australia
many art exhibitions...
Painted an olive tree, an aboriginal flag, a gum tree, an aboriginal boy and
a palestinian boy on the walls
got myself kicked out of the dance centre I was volunteering at...
moved into the rich side of town
became a mud woman at the dead sea with a bunch of khalilis
replaced food with arguile (just for two days)
was hosted through the houses of hebron, shaded by barb wire to reflect the rubbish
raining down from the israelis above them
hebron is separeted in two, the israelis have built themselves above the palestinians
the mosque is cut in two, also
all nighter in a Hebron walnut valley, sung arabic songs and cooked midnight dinner on the fire
spent a day at birziets circus school...though mainly meandering through the olive trees
I want to do exchange in Birziet
drinking taybeh beer, black coffee, marimiyye shai
eating fruit fruit fruit, hommos and salad
palestinian womens film festival - so inspiring! I hope its available for australia...
Did a french artist experiment - drawing a line through ramallah and following it as
accurately as possible (through houses and fields) from 12 till the sunrise
and was guided through ramallah as a blind person
went to ni'lin
saw a demonstration
was tear gassed
am on the brink of converting to islam......
i'm going to read the khoran first, dont worry,
third time to Nablus with on a socialist expedition form berlin
Tulkarm is beautifull - though theres an israeli chemical factory built inside poinsoning the
people, and when the wind blows towards the settlements beyond the wall it closes down -
because the settlers won in court - but the palestinian argument is shut down after
years and years of attempts
organic fruits and veges
Nabi Saleh - where the houses are decorated in tear gas bottles tied to rope - like tinsel
on a christmas tree
Fallen in love with the earth of palestine
life in the villiages
where wheat is made fresh into bread and eaten yummily with the finest olive oil, made from
two thousand year old olive trees
oh my
back in ramallah collecting my things and living in nilin for the olive harvest before my flight :)
xoxoxoxo
love sofia