endless spring

Time has slipped away and I have less than a week left in paradise. So much has happened in the last two months; it's been hard to digest. First there was Greece. At the last minute, I decided to join some friends in Athens. I flew in on a Monday and that night we took a ferry to Santorini. The island is exactly how you imagine it - white buildings, blue shutters, rolling hills. Although the island was beautiful, Athens wasn't much to write home about. The city is in shambles - graffiti on most buildings and prostitutes and drug dealers on every corner. The historical sights were inspiring, but one day in the city is enough.

Santorini

Ruins in Athens

Athens

Following the short jaunt to Greece, a few friends and I capitalized on a long weekend and headed to Kelebelek Vadisi, otherwise known as Butterfly Valley. In southern Anatolia, Butterfly Valley is the most beautiful place I've ever seen. Standing at the doorstep of our bungalow, the view of the valley took my breath away morning after morning. We trekked down the valley and spent a day at the beach. The water was warm and the sand even warmer. I fell in love there and will certainly go back.

The sunset. Soak it in.

The view of the valley.

Our hostel. Amazing people.

Our time here feels more brief with each passing day. This morning, the first of my roommates left. At a restaurant on the Asian side we ate entire fish (heads and eyes included) and drank too much Raki. We took a water taxi back, played with some street dogs and ate waffles in Bebek. It was a beautiful night. It was a beautiful end to what we've had here.

you better run

The weather is at some strange place; it's stuck between to-cold-for-anything-but-a-coat and so-hot-you-want-to-shed-your-pants. In between these two phases, of course, there's rain. Needless to say, when the time presents itself where the wind isn't whipping in your face and the heavens aren't dumping buckets of rain on your head, it's an opportunity to be seized. That is exactly what a few friends and I did this past weekend. On Friday, we headed over to Topkapı Sarayı - the governmental hub of the Ottoman Empire before Dolmabahçe began to be used.

Beautiful Islamic architecture.

On going up keep

Cabana by the pool

On Saturday, we decided to check out a more local gem of Turkish history - Rumeli Hisarı. It's a fortress built along the Bosphorus at its narrowest point. The place is amazing - countless stairs that wind to the sky at unimaginable angles make this place look like a Dali painting come to life. One word of wisdom, though - this is definitely not the place to explore if you're afraid of heights. The staircases soar high above sea level and are not secured with any rails or safety devices. Tread wisely.

Stairway to heaven. Someone should write a song about that...

This is real.

Equal parts ominous and beautiful.

vision of a gentle coast

My apartment hosted a dinner/party Friday night. As bowls of chili, sauerkraut, and tabbouleh were passed around (it was a multi-cultural event, obviously), a few of us made plans to head to the Prens Adaları (Princes' Islands) the next day. Around 10 of us decided to depart by ferry for the fourth and biggest island, Büyükada, at 10:30 am. Somewhere between making plans, drinking too much Efes, and waking up at 10, we missed the ferry we wanted to take. Despite this, a few of us got in touch and decided to go through with the plans. After an hour and a half ferry ride, we arrived at Büyükada.

Ferry ride. Somewhere on the Marmara.

 
The island is devoid of cars, but if you didn't know it before hand, the scent of horse crap would clue you in. The horses are everywhere - pulling carriages, standing around, grazing through the parks.

Wildish horses.

We rented bikes and took in as much of the island as we could. We managed to catch one of the most beautiful sunsets I've ever experienced. We ended the trip with dondurma and waffles and decided to return again at a later date. If there is such thing as heaven on Earth, Büyükada might be it.

Even more beautiful in person.

all along the eastern shore

An earthquake erupted off-shore Japan today. Watching the footage of the resultant tidal waves flushing through Japanese land serves as a reminder that despite what we build on the land, what we create in laboratories, and what endlessly-economically funded innovations we create, there is little we can do in the way of protecting against natural disasters.

This type of scenario is even more impactful living in Istanbul. It's no secret that the bi-continental city lies on insecure lands. In addition to straddling "one of the most active seismic fault lines on the globe," Istanbul as a city has much less wealth per-capita than similarly imperiled areas like San Francisco, Los Angeles, or much of Japan. Further, because of the massive (est. 15 million) and growing population in the city, construction is largely unregulated and the number of homeless people continues to grow. What's more, many of the aged buildings in the city (some dating back to the 15th Century) haven't been supplemented with any earthquake resiliency materials.

As I walk through my neighborhood, I sense the importance of taking in the city as much as possible. There is never a guarantee when it comes to natural disasters. A city or region can create risk-assessment and management plans, but no amount of planning can prevent the devastation that comes with such powerful destruction.

Istanbul, I love you today, and hope that if you can't fully withstand Mother Nature, you can showcase and subsequently increase your resiliency. Maşallah...

For further reading on Istanbul's impending earthquake:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2006/dec/09/turkey.naturaldisasters

into the fire and rain

This winter has surprised me. First, it was timid and every bit an afterthought. As of late, however, it's been hard to leave the flat for fear that my glove, scarf, vest, coat combo won't keep me warm enough. I'm used to the cold - I grew up mostly in Michigan where my memories of waiting for the school bus are filled with building snowmen and igloos. Then I spent two years in New Hampshire where it makes much more sense to invest in a good pair of cross country skis than snow tires.

I'm used to this stuff. But here...it's different. The cold is damp and makes you feel like you're bones were put in the freezer and then given back to you with a pat on the back and a 'Good luck getting warmer!' The nearly constant rain/mist doesn't help with this either. This is a winter I wasn't prepared for, but I'm dealing with it the best I can.

Typical winter day in Taksim

Wet. Cold.

Something crazy happened just today, though. I woke up early to get a run in before the track started to fill with soccer and ultimate frisbee players (not joking), and noticed that the sidewalk beneath my feet was starting to dry. It wasn't raining. Somewhere around mile 4, I felt the sun start to come out. That was it. The rainy cold days that seemed so monotonously unending lately suddenly stopped just like that. My roommates and I decided to take advantage of this upswing and walked through Bebek. The district along the Bosphorus is always beautiful, but it seems to have something more when the sun is out. Inshallah, this is the start of a trend.

Must be nice getting a dry nap for a change.

Local fishing boat.

Korean freighter.

Along the sahil in Bebek.

i know it's hard

Semesters always seem to bleed into each other, despite the registrar-chiseled start and end dates. Nevermind my trip(s) back to America, this first week of classes feels a lot like a continuation of the last fifteen. Beyond the basics (registration, classes, syllabi), there are the new students to enjoy. I, for one, have three new exchange student roommates (strangely all from New York. Our Internet network is called NewYorkGiants. Don't judge). With new students, there's excitement in the city, interest in the culture, and willingness to try new things. It's been refreshing for me, to say the least.

Somehow, between these bleeding semesters, I snuck Ayasofya and Dolmabahce Palace into my schedule. Beautiful sites are even more beautiful when there aren't heaps of tourists crowding them. Dolmabahce is ornate and delicate and immense. Perfect for any sultan.

Different than Dolmabahce, Ayasofya moves you. When you walk in, your  breath can't help but escape you. Beyond being monumentally sized, the church-turned-mosque-turned-museum is painstakingly beautiful. Despite the wear and tear from history, the spirit of this bastion of religious worship shines through, perhaps as powerful as it was in the beginning. Needless to say, a place that warrants a second visit, in the least.

So, as a new semester begins, I'm trying to move into it as if it's my first: with excitement and an open heart. I know it's hard to forget the experiences and memories made during the last five months, but I know there are more to be had. I just need to keep reminding myself of that...

see me through

The end of January is quickly approaching and the month has been a tough one. Watching your friends slowly leave never gets easy. Hopefully, though, this means that I'll have more postcards to send to more places. That can't be a bad thing.

North Campus during finals week(s).

"Burn to Dance." When living in Superdorm, this is synonymous with "Welcome Home."

The last two I watched leave. Tough.

After I finished my finals, I moved into a new apartment. It's in a different part of town and I feel as if I stick out that much more here. Rumeli Hisar is the new hood and I'm getting used to it as quickly as possible.

New digs

New view

Same tchotchkes