Thursday 17 May 2012

Rolled out of bed around 0900 and decided I should probably do something today. I’m out the door by 0930 and on my way to the ancient site of Knossos. It’s about five or six kilometers, so a pretty good walk. I must confess that the city of Heraklion is rather drab.

By 1100 I reach Knossos. It’s open air, in contrast to Akrotiri, and the fresh pine air adds a nice touch. And while Akrotiri was frozen perfectly in time, Knossos has very slowly and deliberately been worked on. It’s still very much a work in progress, using the same materials and techniques whenever possible. A few of the load bearers are reinforced, but I’d say that’s fair. The frescoes have all been removed and spirited away to museums, including the one I went to yesterday, but in a significant improvement over Akrotiri, copies of the frescoes have been put up in place of the originals. It really makes a difference. Still, I’d be lying if I said I felt this place breathe like Angkor Wat or Petra. But it is pretty cool.

I make the walk back, detouring to explore the town and grab a bite. It’s a reasonable enough city, but not captivating. Eventually I return to my hotel, nonplussed. Tomorrow I sleep in and catch an evening flight. First back to Athens, then on to the Holy Land. Here’s to a trip without chaos or death or politics.

Safe journey.

Wednesday 16 May 2012

Today is an utterly lazy day, so I suppose not so good for you, my dear reader, but I enjoyed it just fine. I woke up like a gunshot at 0600 and remembered where I am and my plan for day and went right back to sleep. I woke again somewhere around 1000 and took my sweet time getting ready.

By 1100 I am up and on the street. The walk to the Archaeological Museum is short, a kilometer and a half, and makes for a nice stretch of the legs. The museum itself is no larger than the museum in Santorini, and I had trouble stretching it out to thirty minutes. But even so, small as it is, some of the pieces in there are world class. This is stuff I very specifically remember from my art history studies, and it’s quite a treat to see.

Once done with that, I wander aimlessly through the shopping district, people watching and scenery soaking. I am at this for perhaps an hour before I amble back to my hotel room for a nap. It’s a truly blissful, guilt free nap, but by 1800 I’m getting a bit hungry, so wander out and find some grub. I’m half tempted by the sight of a bowling alley, walk around the port area a bit, then back to my thoroughly adequate bed.

Really a lazy day. And my apologies, but I’m not sure that tomorrow will be any better reading for you. I’m looking forward to it. I can’t sit still forever, it drives me nuts, but sometimes you just gotta fill up the sleep tank.

Safe journey.

Tuesday 15 May 2012

As this is my last day on the island of Santorini, I pack up and check out of my hostel, eating a breakfast first. I sling my pack over my shoulders and start off down the road. No particular hurry, plenty of time today.

My first stop is at the Archaeological Museum. It’s small but nice, with some fantastic pieces. Alas, some of the most famous frescoes from Santorini, the boxers and the fisherman for example, are not here, and I can’t seem to get a good answer as to where they are. Alas I fear they are in that lovely museum in Athens that was closed when I arrive. And from what I am seeing, 1500 is a common closing time for museums. Whether that’s from the economic crisis or is a cultural thing I don’t know, but there it is.

Like I said, it’s a small museum, and I’m out the door again very quickly. I take the bus back down to Akrotiri, which I enjoyed so much yesterday, to see the excavation site that had been closed. I find it open and with a healthy crowd. The site itself has been well cared for, with a very lovely building constructed around the site, and wooden walkways to navigate through the once thriving village. There is little left now but stone walls, a few arches, a staircase here and there. A few bits of intact pottery have been left in place here and there. The frescoes have all been removed to museums, of course. Very little gold was found here, and no bodies: when the volcano blew, it would appear to have given them ample warning. And they seemed to have made an orderly evacuation. That, added to the images of those frescoes, not of war and power, but of the joys of daily life, it all paints a very compelling picture for me. Life here must have been pretty good. I cannot help but think, as I walk through these remains, these crumbling buildings, that this may very well be a part of Atlantis. It’s not out of the question.

With a touch of sadness I back away from ancient Akrotiri and take my leave of Santorini. One last island bus ride, to the new port, not the donkey trail port, where I await my ferry in the beautiful sun. The ferry arrives, and is quite a sight. Not the typical large flat ferry, this is the speed model, a hydrofoil, with two parallel blades cutting into the water and the body of the ship up in the air. Two massive exhaust pipes extend above, great waves of heat distortion pouring out from them.

We board, and are seated not unlike a wide body airplane, but wider still, and the sides of the craft are pure window. We pull away from port and I can hardly tell we are moving, the water outside racing past the windows. Then, as we leave the shelter of the island, the waves become larger. Great waves of water splash violently against the window. The ship rocks violently, up and down, side to side as we move. Like some insane roller coaster that won’t stop, first entertaining, but it gets old pretty quick. Perhaps as many as a full third of the passengers become sick. Even the crew are looking a little green. While I am blessed enough to not vomit, I will confess to some nausea, a first for me on the water. Two hours of this, with attendants running around passing out vomit bags, occasionally seen with mop when the waves permit, then we level out a bit as I see land out the port side window. It is with no small relief that I disembark on to solid land.

The sun is just about to set as I look around the port of Heraklion on the island of Crete. As with Santorini, and much to my surprise, there are no seagulls here. Plenty over in Istanbul, but not a one to be seen or heard. It’s about one and a half kilometers to my hotel, an easy walk, and I find it with no difficulty. It’s an actual hotel, not a hostel, and I get a room to myself. I say a prayer of gratitude for my foresight at getting this hotel room at this point, almost exclusively for the purpose of getting some rest.

I enter my room, have a shower, and fall into bed all too soon, all too easy. Only a couple sights to see in Crete, and plenty of time. This will be a rest stop.

Safe journey!

Monday 14 May 2012

Today, my plans are loose, I just know I need to catch a boat by 1530 at the latest. And I figure I’ll go down to Akrotiri, to see the excavation site, maybe some of the beaches. Seeing how this is a nice, laid back island, I retire my watch, set my shoes aside in favor of flip-flops, and wear shorts.

I am out the door by 0845 and walk over to what is loosely called the bus station. The bus to Akrotiri doesn’t leave till 1000, which is a bit frustrating, but what can you do. I loiter around town, people watch, and make a visit to the grocery store before returning to the bus station.

We pass through a small town, likely Akrotiri, and stop at a beach at the terminus of the road. A brief walk takes me to the gate of the excavation and reveals that it is closed on Monday. That done, I proceed to the beach, which has crystal clear waters and black sand, though far more rocks and pebbles than sand. It is quite lovely, though the water is far too cold for my taste.

I walk a bit further up the hill and find an overview of a beach of dark, brick red sand. I have a time of it climbing down, too obtuse to notice the easier path, I hike my own way through water and over rocks and boulders. Fun but not speedy, or without blood. The red beach is quite lovely and more sandy, but the water is far too cold for me. I go in, but soon feel like its some macho game, not a joy, so I get out. I see my feet, caked in fine red sand: I look like I’ve been walking in chili powder.

I figure I have enough time for lunch and decide on a splurge. I am on an island, I should have some fresh seafood. After consulting with the staff, I pick out my fresh catch, don’t ask me what it was. A fish. She didn’t know the English name, and I surely didn’t. I start with a Greek salad, which contains no lettuce whatever, but is delicious all the same, despite my preconceptions. The fish takes a bit, but comes out nicely grilled and intact. Head, skin, etc. I get to work. The skin I remove, and I am careful to remove bones, but otherwise, I pick it good and clean. It takes me a while to get my check, and as I am waiting for my change, I can, from where i stand, see my bus depart.

This puts me in a bit of a spot. I was planning on stopping by the hostel and picking up some stuff, taking my time. That door is now closed. I chill, waiting the ninety minutes for the next bus, soaking up the sun. The bus finally comes, and as it drops me off, I start running. If I am going to catch my boat, it’s going to be close.

The boat will be at the same dock I went to yesterday, and that took me thirty minutes to climb down. It’s 1505, I don’t have thirty minutes. I run past the cable cars and see an eternal line, that’s out of the question. I keep running, and head for the donkey trail from yesterday. Dodging slow tourists, an army of unemployed donkeys and more than a few road apples, I run all the way to the bottom, making the distance in half the time from yesterday. Fifteen minutes. Breathless and sweaty, I make it to the doc with a few moments to spare.

The boat is a simple affair, and there are perhaps two dozen of us at most aboard. The first journey is brief, to the volcano island. I have managed to catch my breath, but my feet feel a bit raw from all the running and hiking in such poorly chosen footwear. Flip-flops are not meant for this. And now, as I step on the the volcano island, I see I have more hiking to do, through loose rocks and dark volcanic gravel, up steep hills. It’s an interesting environment, the sort of thing that reminds me of Mars.

We get back to the boat and we make our way to the location of the hot springs, which we have to swim to. Here’s the loss from my missed bus: no change of clothes, no towel. The breeze is already getting chilly, and evening is coming, and I have no illusions about that water temperature, hot spring or no. So alas, I give the hot springs and swim a pass.

From here we cruise slowly for the next couple hours as the sun gets lower and the breeze gets cooler, and I do not regret my choice to skip the swim. The clouds block the best parts of the sunset, but it is still quite lovely. With that, we head back to our port.

I cable car back up along with my fellow passengers and make a quick stop for a gyro dinner, then return to my hostel, where I spend a good couple of hours chatting about travel and politics and life with my bunk mate. My legs ate pretty sore, and a bit burned. The skin between my first and second toes on both feet, where the flip-flop sandal rubs, is quite raw. Tomorrow: real shoes.

Also tomorrow: the local museum, the excavation site if I can, and the ferry at 1700ish to Heraklion.

Safe journey.

Sunday 13 May 2012

Up and out the door by 0830, waiting for the metro to take me to the airport by 0900. The Greek people are warm and sociable, very enjoyable to interact with. They seem pretty laid back and always welcoming. Some of the women are gorgeous, while others seem awkward. Too much make up, garish colors, bad hair coloring. I’m no fashionista, but it seems peculiar.

The plane ride is brief and unremarkable, and I catch a bus from the airport to the town of Thira. The island of Santorini is just large enough where walking it is a wee bit too much. There are fewer cars here, and tourists seem to rent four-wheelers to get around. I quest for my hostel, and it’s a bit of an adventure. While there are a couple main roads, there are also many winding labyrinthine paved footpaths, and none of the buildings seem to have addresses. I know the general location, and am in good spirits and no particular hurry, and eventually I find the place. The guy at the counter is, of course, very friendly and happy to talk. He is originally from Crete, but is quite proud of the beauty of Santorini. After I drop of my bags and shower, he sits me down with a map of the island making notes and circling places. He tells me if I get through those, to come back, he’ll circle some more.

Newly armed with my map, I set out, unsure of what I mean to do with my afternoon. I start by securing a ticket for my ferry to Heraklion, that was a loose end that had been bothering me. I grab a gyro, delicious, low price, simple, walk-able, and I walk toward the heart of the town. The town is quite touristy, but all too beautiful notwithstanding. Many shops and restaurants would be happy to have my business, and I browse here and there, but am soon moving again. To the east, where my hostel is, you can see the landscape gradually sloping down, the sea in the distance. But here, on the west side of the island, it’s quite different. The hill has risen up to a cliff side, now covered by the village, and below is a great bay. Once long ago, the island of Santorini was circular in shape. But around 1500 BC, a volcano erupted and blasted the island into a giant “C” shape. And in the middle of this bay sits an island: the volcano. Hot springs still bubble in parts of the waters of that bay. The less fabulous and more scientific thoughts about the legend of Atlantis often point right to this island. There are excavations of a thriving culture that was destroyed by that volcanic eruption. Destroyed, and preserved. I hope tomorrow or Tuesday to have a good look at what they’ve uncovered.

Floating in the bay I see no less than five cruise ships. Below the cliffs, at the waters edge is a dock with several buildings. There is a cable-car taking people down, but the line is significant. There are many donkeys waiting to take tourists down to the docks, and I figure there must be a path. It’s a good walk, maybe thirty minutes, but pleasant. There’s a good deal of commotion on the docks, people coming and going, boats ferrying people back to their ships, Santorini only being a stop over for many of the people here. Many of the boats also take people out onto the water, and I buy a ticket for a sunset cruise tomorrow. It includes time on the volcano island and some swim time around the hot springs. I’m blind as a bat without my glasses and feel nervous swimming in the ocean wearing glasses. Cross that bridge when I come to it.

I take the cable car back up to the cliff and generally wander and loiter. No hurry and doing just fine with it. It’s sort of become normal for me at this point for locals to think I am one of them. The number of times people have just started speaking Greek to me is beyond count. At this point, I no longer even break the news to them that I’m American unless I have to. I’ve had moments of this in India and Jordan, but this is far more extreme. I gotta admit I’m enjoying it.

I eventually return to my hostel, only one other guest, and when the town church bell rings nine o’clock, I settle down to record my day’s events and unwind. Tomorrow: a beach of red sand, a beach of black sand, a sunset cruise, and who knows what else.

Safe journey.

Saturday 12 May 2012

Awoke and out the door by 0800, then walked a few blocks to the meeting point and am picked up by bus for my day trip to Delphi. Our tour guide seems nice enough, and some of what she says is pretty basic, and I have trouble paying attention. I drift in and out of sleep till we make our first stop, a rather unromantic coffee and bathroom break at a roadside spot. I grab a breakfast pastry, warm with some sort of ham and cheese, and I pair it with the Greek equivalent of a moon pie. Breakfast of champions.

From here we start heading into the mountains, which are quite beautiful. When the bus next stops, we stand over a breath taking vista. We walk to the face of the rock and find a mountain spring and an ancient cistern. This is the water once used by the Oracles of old. Visitors would come here and cleanse themselves after their journey before seeking the wisdom of Apollo.

From here we walk to the front gate and walk up the mountainside through long stretches of ruins. Once long ago this was a place a great wealth and influence. Then, with the coming of Christianity, it faded to dust and was eventually forgotten, even covered up by a new village. But come the nineteenth century, and the interest in the past, this was uncovered and slowly, restoration occurs.

After walking through the Delphi site and seeing the remains of the once sacred oracle temple, we walk to the nearby museum, which includes some fantastic attempts to imagine Delphi at its height, including a diorama and a drawing. The museum is small and obviously focused, but is nonetheless compelling. Some of the sculptures there are quite impressive.

We wrap up there and have a generic but acceptable Greek lunch as I make small talk with a family from Florida. We all pretty much sleep on the bus as we return to Athens. Once back, I am hungry again and grab a gyro for dinner. I wander the streets until I find a grocery store, always an interesting experience when abroad, and pick up some razors and toothpaste. More than anywhere I’ve been thus far, I feel completely invisible here: I look like a local. People are stunned when I confess that I don’t speak Greek.

I return to my hostel and climb to the rooftop bar for a beer and a sunset. Tomorrow, Santorini.

Safe journey.

Friday 11 May 2012

Up by 0700 and out the door by 0800. Still having trouble getting to sleep before midnight. It’s a good hostel, nice and quiet. Maybe it’s just me.

By 0815 I am entering the Acropolis grounds. Lots of climbing (not Petra climbing, but still a bit of a wake up). At the top of the hill are s few age-ruined structures to the north, sits a smaller, more intact temples with vertical supports sculpted in the shapes of female figures. These are called caryatids, and are quite lovely. But to the south of this hill, much larger and in pride of place, the Parthenon. It’s a little bit sad to look at, actually. Time has been very harsh to the Parthenon. Three or four different religions have claimed and build on the site. I’ve lost track of how many military hands it has passed through, from one power to the next. A British diplomat stole large portions of it. And the worst indignity, if only in light of its pathetic stupidity: the Turkish army used the Parthenon as a storage depot, to hold -wait for it – gunpowder, with the inevitable, tragic results. The side columns of the Parthenon have been blown away, it’s interior, gutted. But still, through all of this, it holds a sense of grandeur and excellence. There is no awe, but certainly respect, and a little sadness.

I take my time through the Acropolis compound, then walk a short distance north to the Agora, the ancient market. Mostly just a great many rocks laying more or less where they once stood, it does include one startlingly well preserved and therefor impressive temple. There is an attached Agora Museum, which is small but enjoyable.

I walk without hurry through the modern day markets, selling shirts and scarves, refrigerator magnets, plaster figurines, replica plates and vases, and other various odds and ends. I make a stop at Hard Rock Cafe and finally, after weeks, I’m able to scratch that itch and get some quality nachos. I move on to the second main event of the day.

The Acropolis Museum. It really is a very lovely museum. Quite modern. In many sections, both inside and outside around the door, the floor beneath your feet is glass revealing remains of some kind. A street, a few buildings. Its quite effective, in my opinion, really helping to set the right tone. Inside the museum are many wonderful pieces, all from the Acropolis area, all presented clearly and beautifully. On the second floor are more wonderful statues, including more of the previously mentioned caryatids. We are shown how they are ever so slowly using laser to clean these caryatids, removing the grime to reveal glowing marble once again. I’m quite impressed. Then finally, the the third floor. To the real reason this building was created. The Parthenon. We are in a large rectangular room the shape and dimension of the Parthenon, with the marble sculptures that once decorated its heights now at just above eye level, as though we were walking a high scaffold around the great temple itself. The temple is too damaged to hold all of this safely, so here it is, perfectly presented. And at the east and west ends are the great triangular displays. The blank areas make my heart ache, lost forever, and the rough plaster for some models leaves me feeling quite troubled: these are placeholders for the original works, taken a century and a half ago by the British, and now displayed with pride in the British Museum. The Greeks have been asking for them back for quite some time now, but, as I understand it, the British insisted that these works are of great value to all human culture and were quite safe in London. And, as Athens had no safe, worthy place to display them… Yet here I stand in this state of the art museum. I don’t pretend to know all of the details, nor am I suggesting that every museum suddenly give their exhibits, returning them to their country of origin. It just feels like the Parthenon, of all things, should be in Greece. If the Liberty Bell or the head of the Statue of Liberty were on permanent display in London or Paris, yeah I’d say that would sit wrong with me. Just saying. Seeing all of this makes the Parthenon even more powerful.

I decide the one big thing I want to see in Athens is the National Archeological Museum, and start walking the two kilometers. It’s in nice walk through interesting streets. I don’t know if it’s a facet of the city itself, or a result unrest here, but there seems to be a great deal of graffiti here. And some of it is really amazing. When I finally get to the Archaeological Museum, at about 1530, I discover that the financial cutbacks have shut this museum at 1500. Sigh. Nothing really to be done about it, I start walking back. I enjoyed the walk to, so enjoy the walk back just as well. Perhaps a little more: a light rain has started to fall. I haven’t encountered a cool rain like this in quite a while. I make a stop for a slouvaki gyro, then chill for the night. Up early again tomorrow, bound for Delphi.

Safe journey!

Thursday 10 May 2012

I spend a relaxed morning slowly picking at my breakfast while talking with my fellow travelers. I haven’t seen too many Americans on the backpacking scene, but plenty of Canadians and Australians. Always a pleasure.

My remaining time in Istanbul is limited, and that always hangs over me. I hate to start anything if I’m constantly going to be looking at my watch. I find myself wandering through the streets, the weather a bit chilly, the sky an overcast grey. I end up back at the Grand Bazaar, where I wander unhurriedly. The Turkish lamps, multi-faceted glass bowls dangling from chains, are quite lovely. I’d love to buy one, but that’s about as impractical an idea as I can imagine. No doubt such lamps can be picked up in the States without too much trouble. I’m hoping that’s something I can say about most of the tempting buys from here on out: easily picked up back home when I have more money. My daily expenses will be increasing, I can tell, and I would like to spend that money on good food and experience. I don’t regret my purchases, but western Europe should be a different animal. I hope. My fellow travelers all agree with me that Istanbul us wonderful but too expensive. I am relieved to hear that the rest of Turkey has much more reasonable prices, then I remember my itinerary; not places likely to be cheap in the least. Oh well.

My bag now weighs 9.3kg. When America talks about airports in others countries having poor security, I have no idea what they are talking about. Security to get into the airport. Then again at the gate. And another thing: this whole business about airlines being too strapped for cash to offer meals anymore, that’s total fantasy. Once I left North America, I got fed on every flight. This flight to Athens, less than an hour in the air and I got a pretty reasonable chicken sandwich.

1800. Off the plane and on the metro into Athens. The train is one of the priciest of this sort I’ve seen, but Greece is rather famously out of pocket change. The weather is gorgeous, the landscape fantastic, and the color of the water coming in truly took my breath away. I confess the idea of being here, in Greece, leaves me with a big grin on my face.

My directions say to get of of this train and take a different train for one stop. That seems silly to me, and the one kilometer walk sounds like a good introduction, so I walk out onto the street. In Istanbul, you felt the centuries of history in every block. In every step. Athens… Athens could be a new city. Maybe not shiny new, but it certainly doesn’t show it’s age. Walking these streets, I think: this could be Los Angeles, but with the occasional ancient ruin. I walk past the beautiful remains of some unknown temple, mere feet from busy traffic.

My hostel is the classic high-function hostel. Efficient. I’m on the third floor, and I grab a lower bunk, possibly at the expense of a priceless electrical outlet, but I’ll cross that bridge later. My very first act upon arrival is to gather my things, exit the hostel, walk past the waiting Acropolis to the nearby laundromat. I’ve been hand-washing since Bangkok, and I see that it’s a stopgap measure at best. My clothes feel oily. Ugh. Note to self: find out how to hand-wash clothes correctly.

Never ask me how much I paid for this laundry! As long as you live, never ask me! Enough to know a sacrifice was paid, I must shield you from this horror!

After laundry, I settled down for a very pleasant Greek salad before turning in.

Tomorrow: Acropolis.

Safe journey

Wednesday 9 May 2012

Breakfasted and out the door by 0900, I make for my priority for today: the Istanbul Archaeological Museum. I have read that it is quite good, and am excited to see how it holds up.

The museum, first established in the mid 1800s as the world at large was becoming interested in such things, is, in fact, phenomenal. I was prepared for the sort of museum I had experienced in India and Thailand: an old, poorly presented and uninteresting gallery of ancient lore. What I found instead was modern, compelling, and vast. Too much so: I had to throw in the towel, my mind going soft after around three hours.

I’ve encountered this before. When I was in New York, I discovered that I could soak up the Met for about two hours before everything turned to wallpaper. I was prepared for this in Paris, with museum after gallery after museum, but I have been caught off-guard here. Oops. It is important to stress that for all intents and purposes, Turkey is ancient Greece. The cultures interacted near constantly. The famous city of Troy, brought to life in the epic tales of Homer, is right here in Turkey. And this is Rome too. In the west we are taught that the Roman Empire was over by the end of the fifth century. Total crap: they just moved their headquarters. To here. Yes, they also changed their religion and official language (to Greek), but the culture, the customs, the laws, all Roman. They called themselves Roman. The title of “Byzantine” came later, a creation of historians. And then there are the Ottomans, one of the longest running imperial lines in history. A realm we know, if only in pop culture passing, of harems and scimitars, and of rich sultans. I confess I know all too little. The museum is full, and expresses all of this. By brain is broken.

Really, this is a great time for a sidebar about how this is the absolutely perfect time for me to do this trip. The education I gain from this trip makes the next such trip all the more expensive. If I knew then what I know now, I might have tried to save more money, and perhaps put the trip off indefinitely. And what fun is that. I have learned that I don’t need five star hotels, but a level or two up from how I am traveling now, I think, would be best. My bed is too small for me, and the terrace bar above me likes to play music rather loudly. I find that I am feeling wiped out around midday and I must confess, I’m not getting quality sleep. Mind you, some hostels can be great, but I think a private room would be appropriate. And as I am now entering Europe, I am wondering if my daily budget will be adequate. I mean, sure, absolutely, I will be fine. But I may need to cut back.

Today I was hoping to hit that Turkish bath, but when I saw the prices, I was insulted. Absolutely out of the question do-you-think-I’m-an-idiot prices. But of course, I’m in touristville, gringolandia, with dollar bill signs on my forehead. They are so much nicer than in Egypt, I’m not complaining as such, but it is a part of the reality. If I were willing to cross the water and get out of gringolandia I could find a bath for a fraction of the price. But as the sun is now going down and I am leaving tomorrow, I must confess, having had a nice Turkish bath experience elsewhere (at a sane price), it’s not a deal-breaker.

The only other things I was hoping to see on this trip was the Mosaic Museum, which was closed (but I feel well represented on the mosaic issue with Chora Church), and the Mosque of Süleymaniye the Great (but I’m feeling well represented by the Blue Mosque). These and many other things would be great to see, but something is always left undone. Motivation to come back.

Safe journey

Tuesday 8 May 2012

Took my time getting up, and enjoyed a simple breakfast. Out the door by 0930. I take my time wandering around, and make a stop to mail off the ton of stuff I’ve been lugging around in my pack, some of it from India. It’s a relief to see it go. I’m thinking as I head into modern Internet connected western Europe, there will be fewer things I feel I gotta buy there. Many nice things, no doubt, but easier to acquire from home if I really want it. I’ve spent a ton of money buying things. Next time I do a trip like this, I will budget accordingly.

In no particular hurry, and not exactly the most direct route, I make for a Byzantine site called Chora Church. I can already see that my mission here in Istanbul has changed. I’m not here to see sights, I’m here to absorb and become familiar with the city. Because it has become all too clear, I must return to Turkey. This place is too amazing.

Walking through the streets, past high end candy shops and people by the dozens with soft serve ice cream, I’m left wondering if Istanbul has even more of a sweet tooth than America. And I’ve seem very little obesity, so whatever they’re doing seems to work. Walking all these hills I suppose.

I arrive at Chora Church, which is really quite small, more of a chapel. It’s design is distinctly Byzantine: a deliberately asymmetrical hodge-podge of different sized barrels and flat walls, with the occasional flying buttress thrown in. Not terribly impressive from the outside. But the inside is fantastic. The floors are marble of contrasting colors, the walls, alive with frescoes and mosaics, the arched and vaulted ceilings even more so. It seems strange to see this much art, this much wealth and energy, focused on this small church well outside the city at the time. While a good portion of the imagery is devoted to Christ, he shares equal space with the Virgin Mary, her own sacred birth (from the Apocrypha) depicted in detail. It’s quite a beautiful site.

Up to my old tricks, I pick a direction and start going, not sure how I’ll end up home, just confident that I shall. I see some fantastic views before making my way to the water again. I have a lovely walk along the bank, stopping in green parks along the way. Another thing to remark about Istanbul is the cats. Lots and lots of outdoor cats. Healthy looking, cared for, but wandering freely.

I make my way to the great Spice Market. I grab a quick bite to eat and wander. It’s quite touristy, lots of sweets. A few camera ready bids of powdered spices. It’s amusing, but not worth spending forever in. I return to my hostel and do what I’ve been putting off: hand laundry. There’s a washing machine in Athens, I already checked. I have every intention of just being lazy and watching my laundry dry for the rest of the night.

Safe journey.

ps- ok, I guess I was wrong. I did go out and I had a lovely time. But needless to say, not every single thing I do ends up posted on this website. Ciao!