Exploration & Contemplation

My two older boys and I grabbed sticks and rocks as the dogs circled closer, barking wildly. I took hold of a long pole that happened to have a nail sticking out the end. I stepped out between my boys and the dogs. In the midst of beauty there are dangers…

The first thing I noticed about Albania when we were there in July 2016 was its beauty. Actually, the first thing I noticed was the deeply pitted road between Korcha and Erseka, which the government tore up seven months earlier and was yet to repave. Our friend and host said they will finish the job right before the next election. Because that’s how things work. Anyways, we drove in late at night, so I felt the road but didn’t see anything. When I woke up the next morning – actually midday – I looked out the sunny window of the apartment at the camp. Wow! The mountains were right there outside the window. I like mountains. The hillsides in Albania, unlike in California, are permanently green. I like green. There are forests. I like forests.

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I quickly set out to explore. I chose a dirt road heading out of town and climbed up a hill. Looking out over the countryside, villages dotted the landscape. I counted 16 villages surrounding the town of Erseka. The Albanian countryside looks just like the tile-laying board game Carcassonne.

The countryside is a perfect patchwork of towns, villages, streams, roads, fields, and forests. It is the idyllic pastoral setting.

Except the people who live there don’t necessarily see it that way. They see it as a place with no jobs. The owner of one coffee shop (there must be at least 15 coffee shops in the town of 4000) told me that he had worked for 15 years in Greece doing drywall and painting. Then Greece’s economy tanked and he came back home. He is now waiting for papers to get to the United States. Detroit will be his destination, I think. “Albania, pfft!” he said dismissively, making a motion with his hands as if to indicate that the country is dead.

Those who do have a job may be out in that picture perfect countryside more than they would like. I ran into people herding sheep, cows, and goats daily. A cow practically nuzzled my neck one morning while I was sitting reading on the rim of one of the hollows. We have romanticized the job of shepherds because we love Psalm 23. Interestingly, the rabbis did the opposite. They assumed – and apparently others agreed – that shepherds occupied the lowest rung on the social ladder. Indeed, it is not a competitive career field in Albania. One man in his 20s told us that he worked as a shepherd for exactly one month and twenty days. He only lasted that long because he had been paid in advance. He said it was just so boring. So boring, but it requires constant attention, otherwise the sheep will wander away.

Not needing to make a living from the countryside, it paid me in another way: beauty. I was constantly struck by the expanses of green grass, the stretches of forest filling the hollows, butterflies flitting by every ten feet I walked. Scampering lizards were unavoidable. Occasionally I would see a wandering tortoise. Birds made their songs audible all day. Bees circled the abundant wildflowers.

He wandered by while I sat reading.

This cow wanted to take part in my reading too.

Some people make a modest living by those abundant wildflowers. They head up the mountainsides to collect the flowers, dry them on a section of sidewalk back in town, and sell them to companies that use them in pharmaceuticals or other herbal concoctions.

In the forest I found wild strawberries. A friend told me once that wild strawberries had the flavor of five regular strawberries packed into one small, bright red wild berry. I found that they tasted exactly like Sweet Tarts. The flavor was intense. I took all the kids – our and our friends’ – the long way home one night so we could stop in the forest to snack on wild strawberries.

Trust me. They taste exactly like Sweet Tarts.

The topography was interesting. Erseka lies in a plain, with the Gramozi Mountains rising immediately to the east. The ridgeline of the Gramozis forms the border with Greece. To the south successive lines of ridges lead to a vertical wall of mountains that box in the land. To the west and the north, more mountains. In other words, there are mountains in every direction. My kind of place. The streams that flow from the slopes of the Gramozi Mountains have cut a narrow gorge right through the hills to the west of Erseka. One evening I took our older boys on an excursion nearly all the way through the gorge, mostly in the water.

I said the grass is beautiful. The sheep agree. Where there is grass there are sheep, and where there are sheep there are dogs. You may encounter dogs anywhere. Once while riding a borrowed mountain bike up a dirt track I heard loud barking coming closer and closer in the trees to the left. I couldn’t see anything but I could tell these dogs were moving fast. Suddenly a dog with bared teeth shot out of the forest, snarling in fury. Two inch spikes protruded all the way around his collar. Sometimes dog owners might outfit their dogs with something to make them look more intimidating. In this case the collar wasn’t really needed. This was a burly, savage looking dog. I think three out of six of our friends’ family members have been bit by dogs in Erseka. I jumped off the bike, picked up a rock, and hurled it at the dog. Not being a great shot, the rock bounced off the ground near the dog. The dog turned its attention to the rock, chasing it down barking as if it was an intruder into its space. I continued on. I’ll admit, my heart was beating a little fast. And I still held a rock or two in my hand.

One morning I got my boys up early and set out to hike to the nearest summit of the Gramozi Mountains, a direct walk up from the village. We followed the mostly dry creek bed (which has flooded in heavy rains recently, threatening the camp property with inches of mud and water), skirted fields, and made our way steeply up along the edge of the forest. Above the trees we hit grassy slopes. As I said, grass equals sheep equals dogs. We were passing through an area that must have been an abandoned shepherds’ camp (a very primitive one, as they all seem to be) when we encountered the first pack of dogs. That’s when we grabbed the sticks, stones, and pole with a nail sticking out of it. The nail had been used to form the poles into a kind of tepee. I thought it made a pretty good weapon for defense against dogs, not that I wanted to get a nail stuck in a dog’s flank or anything. I imagine some kids, even ten and twelve year olds like my boys, would have shrank at the sight of five or six dogs circling closer. I was proud that my boys stood their ground. I had to make them get behind me, in fact.

And the dogs? It seems that they want to assert their authority over the flock of sheep they are set to guard more than to actually attack. We stood our ground and they stood theirs. Eventually we just walked on. We encountered two more packs of dogs on the hike, one of which was called off by their shepherd. And we saw the same pack again on our way down. That time a rock and a dog did make contact.

The summit was nice. The cool fog inspired my boys to come up with a new way of wearing their shirts.

There were sheep and shepherds right up to the ridge of the mountains that make the border with Greece. When we were telling about the dogs after the hike, my boys said, “That made it more exciting and fun!” It made them feel like true adventurers, perhaps a little like warriors.

It makes me wonder how many beautiful things in life are made even more enjoyable by the addition of a little danger. Danger is obviously part of the attraction for those drawn to extreme sports. The backpacking I do has just enough danger to make me a little nervous, which in the end contributes to the enjoyment. Outside of sports and physical danger, I would say that marriage is a beautiful and dangerous thing. So is having kids. And God himself is both beautiful and dangerous. The records of encounters with the Lord in the Bible show us people shaken to the core. An encounter with God leaves no life unchanged. Beauty and Danger.

We flew to Antalya on the southern coast of Turkey, called the Turquoise Coast for good reason, as you will see from the color of the sea in the photos. Again we rented a car with the same iffy company, and again everything worked out fine after making a phone call or two. The man who picked us up asked about my job. He was quite surprised when I told him I am a pastor. I don’t look like a religious man, he said. He went on to explain that his religious men look different than others. And his religious men are all bad, they are liars, he said. He is a Muslim, who believes in Allah and Muhammad, but not in the religious men. I was a little surprised to find someone who was so openly critical of Islam. I asked what he thought about Jesus. Who? Jesus Christ. Huh? I tried “Isa.” Then he understood. Oh, he was a prophet, but Muhammad was the last prophet. We didn’t have the time or the communication to discuss Jesus being far more than a prophet. “In the past God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets at many times and in various ways, but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son” (Hebrews 1:1-2).

Driving our large vehicle (this time a Volkswagen) through rush hour traffic to the apartment was an experience. Finding the apartment was not easy. Finding a place to park was even harder. Thankfully, the owner found us on the streets and helped us locate a place to park. And once we got into the apartment everyone immediately relaxed. Some Airbnb owners have mastered the art of creative photography, making a cramped, drab space look like a picturesque resort. This apartment (after the dark stairwell) surprised us with its huge space. And the windows and balcony leaned out over the main street of the central neighborhood of Antalya. It was lively and bustling.

I went across the street to order food from Pizza Door Pizza. While walking up the street looking for a store to buy some fruit and vegetables a pushy girl grabbed my wrist and sprayed perfume on it. No, that was not going to convince me to make a purchase.

After dinner we walked down the lively street to the peaceful seaside. A waterfall falling into the ocean was picturesque. The whole family sat on a bench, reclining on one another in various angles of repose. It was one of my favorite moments of our trip so far, one of those magic moments when all is well with the world.

Walking through a park afterwards we discovered a set of stairs that took you just below street level to a walkway hugging the rim of a lovely little canyon filled with greenery above the little stream. This little grotto is a hidden jewel in the midst of the city.

The next day we briefly explored the old city, including Hadrian’s Gate, constructed to honor the Emperor’s visit to the city. It was interesting to think, “Here stood the emperor.” The kids enjoyed climbing the spiral pillar more than reflecting on the history of empires.

We drove out to the ruins of the city of Perga, mentioned in the book of Acts (13:13) as the place where John Mark left Paul and Barnabas on their first missionary journey. The next chapter says that Paul and Barnabas preached the word in Perga. Perga was filled with monuments to various gods and nymphs, as was every other Greek and Roman city. The effect of the message about the one God who reconciled the world to himself through his son Jesus is evident in the two basilicas of Perga. Before their construction there would have been many believers meeting in homes and other locations, of course.

The depth of wear you see in this photo of the threshold of the gates give you an idea of how old and how well-traveled were this city’s streets.

The heavenly city, the New Jerusalem, is described in the book of Revelation: “Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, as clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb down the middle of the great street of the city.” A river flowing down the middle of the street? It’s probably in all the commentaries, but I realized for the first time that ancient people already had a reference point for such city planning. Perga’s architects and engineers had built a channel of flowing water into the main street. At its head was a monument to Kestrus, the god of the river, whose (now headless) statue still reclines over the origin of the spring that used to supply the stream. The last chapter of Revelation may be saying, “You know how some cities have a stream of water flowing down the middle of the street? It’s beautiful, isn’t it? In heaven the city of God will have a river flowing through the main street. And this river is the water of life, flowing from the throne of God.”

We explored the ancient baths and admired the columns that used to line the street, providing a nicely shaded area on either side of the street. And we threw the Frisbee just like the Greeks and Romans used to do.

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In the afternoon we picked up my brother at the Antalya airport and drove southwest along the coast to Kas. We were all excited that he was able to come from Cairo to join us for a two-night boat trip from Kas.

The Turquoise Coast By Sea

One of Rebecca’s dreams was the hot air balloon ride. One of my dreams was to sail in the Mediterranean. Sailing is not very common in Turkey, however, so we booked a ride on a traditional Turkish boat, called a gulet. Apart from Rebecca suffering some sea-sickness, the trip was a delight. The captain took us to various coves and islands, where we could swim, snorkel, and kayak as we wished.

We cruised along next to the sunken city of Kekova, ancient home of the Lycians. Investigating the city with snorkeling gear would have been even more fun, but swimming and diving are forbidden in order to preserve the site. We climbed the fortifications of Kalekoy and waded out to an ancient tomb.

The ruins with their ancient inscriptions (whose Greek I can sometimes manage to piece together) reminded me of a scene in Tolkien’s Fellowship of the Ring. Frodo and his company, including representatives of all the races of Middle Earth, are paddling down the river Anduin. Coming around a bend they see the ancient, long-abandoned statues of kings standing guard to the realm of Gondor. Tolkien scaled up the mythology for his books and Peter Jackson scaled them up even more for his films, but you get the idea. We are in places where kings once reigned, where heroes once battled. Whether they were kind, generous, and good, or whether they were tyrants the world is glad to leave behind, I don’t know.

Returning to my thoughts about Perga and the New Jerusalem for a moment, the vision of the heavenly city somehow seems ancient at the same time as new. Walls of jasper, gates of pearl, foundations of precious stones, streets of gold, with the river of life flowing down the middle – its beauty in architecture, craftsmanship, precious materials, and plant life seem to say that all history is included (and purified) in this future city. Indeed, “the kings of the earth will bring their splendor into it..the glory and honor of the nations will be brought into it” (Revelation 21:4, 6). But “nothing impure will ever enter it” (21:7). We long for that city.

On the boat, everyone exclaimed how wonderful the food tasted. The captain and his wife cooked better meals than we ate in any restaurant in Turkey. Green beans, bulgur, fresh caught seabass, chicken kebab – it was splendid. Trying seagrass that he had harvested from the local islands was especially interesting. Afternoon teatime was a nice touch as well.

“Yukazama!” shouted the captain’s son every time he jumped off the boat.

I’m pretty sure that the literal translation of “yukazama” is “cowabunga.”

My brother said at the end of the trip, “I could live on a boat.” As much as I enjoyed the swimming, snorkeling, and kayaking, I thought two days was about enough. I would still like to go out on a sailboat though…

The day we got off the boat we drove down to Kaputas beach, recommended by the young Turks we met in Cappadocia. The water and the waves were great, but the fact that this is one of Turkey’s best beaches testifies to the ruggedness of the Turkish coast. Besides tiny pockets of pebbly sand like this, the shoreline consists of rocks as sharp as knives. Trees, birds, and wildlife are rare. After enjoying the water for a few hours, we walked up the little slot canyon that has formed this little beach. The still, quiet walls soon formed an impassable wall in front of us.

On the way down I encouraged my kids to do something that may or may not make me a good father. Not only did I let them slide down this ramp, I poured water on it. I won’t say whether it was dangerous or not, but I will say that they had fun!

And this, my friends, brings us to the end of our Exploration in Turkey and to the beginning of our Contemplation in Albania, another place of great beauty.

Day 2 Cappadocia

In the morning we enjoyed the lavish breakfast spread at the hotel. Our philosophy throughout this time was stuff yourself at breakfast, eat a light lunch on the trail, and eat out for dinner. We sent one our kids in to snap some pictures. There was much more than you see here: varieties of cheese, breads, jams, fruits, vegetables…

Then we set out to explore, heading up Pigeon Valley in the direction of Uchisar, which boasts a castle of rock on top of a hill. All of Cappadocia was like one big playground for our kids, who ran to climb every rock and explore every cave. I’ll let the pictures do some talking. It was hard to stop taking pictures, the landscape being so wild and the caves so intriguing.

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We stopped for lunch at a spot with a nice view back into Pigeon Valley and another parallel valley. And a good view up towards Uchisar castle.

Our youngest lagged behind on the walk up to the castle, so I shot a series of photos as I trailed along with him, “Things That Are Interesting to a Five-Year-Old.” I missed a couple shots too before I realized how many things would catch his attention on the walk.

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The castle was fascinating. The signage said the castle used to be connected to the valleys through long underground tunnels, for purposes of defense and escape. Who carved these caves and tunnels? It may be known, but I never got that down for sure. Certainly, many of those who lived in these caves were monks, as there are many cave churches in the area, many of them decorated with frescoes. The soft rock begs to be carved. Mt Erciyes, which we saw up close in Kayseri, spewed out massive amounts of ash over the years, ash that formed this soft tufa rock.

To the side of Uchisar castle is another hill with enough caves to make it an apartment complex. One of our kids was dying to explore those dwellings too. You see in the picture the eroded steps on the way up. Going up was no problem. And we found inside the upper cave something almost like a spiral staircase, which was rewarding to find. Then it was time to climb down the steep, slippery, eroded staircase. Climbing down is usually harder than ascending and excitement turned to nervousness as each kid inched their way down. I didn’t feel too secure myself. Thankfully, Rebecca and our youngest had stayed below. Once our nerves calmed after making it safely down, the sense of danger added to the sense of excitement and accomplishment.

Then the adventure continued. Below us was a cone with three stories of doors and windows that made exploration irresistible. Interestingly, we found this sign on the side of it. It turns out it was pointing to a place beyond, but this place was also a “Typical Turkish House” of Cappadocia. Many people still live in houses that are at least partially carved into the rock. The whole family made it up to the third story, which was sadly defaced with graffiti. We sang the doxology in the upper room and enjoyed the resonance of the cave’s acoustics.

We met three young Turkish people near the highway and talked for a few minutes. They are from Antalya, which happened to be next on our itinerary. And they currently live in Kirkland, WA my hometown. I should have got their contact information and looked them up next time I visit. They gave us some tips on Antalya and Kas, and we gave them some information about what we had just explored.

I couldn’t resist snapping a picture of this guy. An interesting spot for a nap, eh?

We walked down the highway for a ways, until we spotted a trail down into another valley and something even more important – ice cream bars. Our kids had earned it, with their miles of hiking.

This is a view from our ice cream spot. Notice the footsteps carved high into the rock. That’s how they got around up there.

We stopped by the hotel and headed out to dinner. I enjoyed my chicken with yogurt sauce on top of eggplant. We noticed that the restaurants were mostly empty. The bombings in Turkey have taken their toll on tourism. Tensions between Russia and Turkey have also caused a dramatic dropoff in the number of visitors from Russia. We felt that the lack of tourists was to our benefit. We practically had Cappadocia to ourselves.

Day 6 Istanbul / Day 1 Cappadocia

We landed at the airport in Kayseri, a fairly large city whose design was unusual. Though widely spread out, most of the housing seemed to be in high rise apartments. And the apartments were not grouped together in compact housing areas, but were spaced seemingly at random. Kayseri used to be called Caesarea in Greek and was home to Basil, one of the Cappadocian Fathers. I have read and appreciated Basil, so it was interesting to see where he served as bishop. While I enjoyed our whole time in Cappadocia thoroughly, I didn’t find time to read the Cappadocian Fathers as planned. Exploring with four kids doesn’t allow for a lot of down time, because what is contemplative time for me and Rebecca is simply boring for them. But now I’ve seen the home of the Cappadocian Fathers and I can catch up on my reading later.

And there was the mountain! Mt Erciyes the volcano dominated the landscape. Already my heart stirred with a longing to climb that mountain. But that would mean selfishly leaving my wife and kids while I enjoyed an alpine adventure.

Someone from the rental car company was supposed to meet us at the airport with the car, but we didn’t see anyone. I was a little dubious of this company already, but when I made a call they assured me someone would be there within five minutes. They were. We drove to their office and filled out paperwork, which always takes a surprisingly long time. The kids played at a playground next door to the office. Kayseri is filled with great playgrounds, many of the with fitness equipment of various sorts. We noticed this in Istanbul too. I asked my friend about it and he said he often sees people using it. Rebecca said I looked like Mr. Bean on this most interesting piece of exercise equipment.

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The only vehicle available that would seat six was a nine-seater Mercedes Benz van. One of the bench seats faces backwards, kind of like the inside of a limousine. A manual 6 speed transmission was new to me.

I asked at the rental car company for a restaurant recommendation. He said Gubate was famous in Kayseri so we decided to check it out. I’m not sure if it was the afternoon hour or the fact that Ramadan had begun, but we were the only customers in the place. We ordered with the help of a kind and patient waiter who said he spoke more German than English. Psihalive was delicious but difficult to pronounce. It was like Chinese pot stickers, but stuffed with potato. Kayseri mantisi was a tasty, tiny ravioli soup. We also got a dumpling type thing filled with a small amount of meat. And we got a cabbage, tomato, and cucumber salad to go with it. When we ordered more dishes, they insisted on clearing the table entirely and brought new plates of salad.

We drove about an hour to Goreme, and after a few wrong turns and U-turns, found our apartment, Doors of Cappadocia. It’s a beautiful apartment, with a spacious courtyard decorated with farm implements that gives it something of an old west feel. There are numerous small buildings set at various angles to the courtyard.

We went out for a brief walk, and before heading into town we checked out just a couple of the area’s characteristic caves. Our kids were enthralled.

This is just a hint of what’s to come.

We peeled the kids from the caves (we would have several days to explore them) and walked into town and bought supplies for dinner: bread, cheese, fruit, and veggies. We had our meal on the rooftop in a light rain.

What’s with those faces? I don’t know, but check out Uchisar castle in the background. We explored the inside and outside the following day. Pictures will come, probably too many.

You know, I had difficulty deciphering the symbols on the dash of the car, which were always there for me. They seemed to be telling me to prepare and/or drink a hot beverage, but avoid a fender bender. Can someone interpret these symbols for me?

Day 4 in Istanbul

Our fourth day in Istanbul, a Monday, we had arranged to see the major sites of Istanbul with a Turkish tour guide we met at the afternoon worship service the day before. What was interesting was that he had studied Spanish for a few months in Guatemala, as more languages equals more opportunities for work. Being more confident in Spanish than English, he spoke to us almost exclusively in Spanish throughout the day. We met in the morning and walked to the Galata Tower, where, unlike the previous night, there was no line. In fact, it wasn’t quite open yet, so we were the first ones up. We didn’t want our youngest walking around the top by himself, but he didn’t like being carried either. “I’m going to fall,” he said when he was up in my arms. So we didn’t stay up on the rim for long. But we did enjoy the view.

We then made our way to the Blue Mosque and the Hagia Sophia (Holy Wisdom) cathedral, some of the two most visited places in Istanbul, and for good reason. The architecture of the Hagia Sophia is stunning. How did they manage to build such high, soaring domes in 537AD? It served as an Orthodox Christian cathedral for close to a thousand years! And it was the largest cathedral in the world for almost that long as well. When the Ottomans took Istanbul, the Hagia Sophia was converted to a mosque. I would gladly attend an Orthodox worship service there, but it is now a museum. Our kids especially loved climbing the ramp up to the balcony level. Do you know something? Graffiti didn’t start with spray cans in modern America. The Hagia Sophia includes graffiti written centuries ago by a real life Viking. A Viking. Below you also see a more respected form of art, the mosaic, shot from an unusual angle. You tell me how the photo works. I’ll also give you a detail shot of a piece of the mosaic.

The Blue Mosque is also impressive, having been modeled after the Hagia Sophia. Our tour guide said that the architectural style of cathedrals changed, while mosques, following the influence of the Hagia Sophia, continued to include domes in their architecture. I found the calligraphy at the Blue Mosque and elsewhere beautiful.

Over lunch I asked our tour guide about his faith. As I expected, he said that being a Christian in a majority Muslim society is not easy. Every citizen has an identification card, which includes religion. Changing one’s religion on the ID card can cause problems, he said. And having one’s religion listed can make it hard to find work.

I wondered if he ever got tired of touring the same sites of Istanbul week after week. “No,” he said. “I really love my city.” He has done a good bit of traveling himself. How did he like the food of Guatemala and America and Albania etc? “Yeah, they’re good, but I really like Turkish food.” He is a true Turk and true Istanbullu. I found Turkish food alright, but for Rebecca it was hard to find good vegetarian dishes, which she prefers.

In the afternoon we visited the basilica cistern, an impressively large underground cistern for water storage. It is now empty, except for a foot or two of carp-filled water. Our kids loved this place. It was dark, cool, and mysterious. I was able to play with the settings on my little camera and get a decent picture of the inside of this place.

We then headed to Topkapi Palace, the home of the sultans of the Ottoman empire. The courtyard is beautiful, but one of our sons said immediately, “This place looks and smells like grandma’s backyard.” I think that is praise for grandma’s gardening and disdain for the palace. All the kids were bored at the palace. Rebecca and I could have wandered and explored for longer.

Working for the sultan could be a dangerous job. I read that during one period only two of seventeen officials died a natural death. The heads of executed officials were commonly placed on posts around the courtyard. The people, however, apparently saw such punishment as evidence that the sultan was keeping good order. The sultan’s palace was grand, but our earlier guide from day one thought it was not as impressive as the castles of Europe. The kitchens included pots of impressive size, however. And the jewels would be impressive for those who are into that sort of thing.

The museum at the palace claims to have some interesting pieces: the beard, tooth, and footprint of Muhammad; the turban of Joseph; the staff of Moses.

After exploring the palace for some time, I was feeling tired. And not just tired, exhausted. Jet-lagged, to be precise, something I have never experienced before. We had dutifully followed a protocol for eliminating jet lag that involved fasting and feasting involving diet, caffeine, and sleep. It seemed to work for most of the family, who slept a regular night’s sleep in Istanbul, which is 10 hours later than California. But it didn’t work for me. Some objects, like those silly Segway scooters, are kept in balance by gyroscopes. I felt like the gyroscopes in my brain were out of kilter, and instead of keeping me balanced were pulling me to the ground. I laid down in the grass and was about to doze off when an overzealous security guard called to me and motioned for me to get up. We saw others laying in the grass nearby. I guess I look suspicious when I nap. Just outside the gates I found a spot for a power nap in the grass.

Below the palace is a beautiful garden, which we walked through on our way back towards our part of the city. Unfortunately, the batteries in my camera ran out of juice so I don’t have any pictures. Our two oldest surprised me when we got out of the park and palace area onto the busy streets when they said, “I like this. I didn’t like it back there.” For some reason the feel of the palace and park bothered them. The busy streets were preferable.

We said goodbye to our tour guide when we were back across the Golden Horn (the inlet of water separating parts of the city) and made our way home. If my memory serves me right, we got dinner that night at a place that serves baked potatoes (called kumpir in Turkish) mixed with butter, cheese, and a variety of unusual toppings from which to choose: pasta salad, black and green olives, corn, pickles, pickled beets, hotdog slices. We found a few toppings that sounded appetizing enough. I’m not sure anyone finished their potato, which, with toppings, probably weighed a kilo. Our youngest, however, did finish his sandwich, which consisted of a hot dog bun piled high with french fries.

Day 5

We felt confident enough to venture out on our own on day 5. Rebecca figured out a bus route to Miniaturk, a fairly kitschy representation of Turkey’s main sites in miniature. It turned out to be a hit with our kids, not because of the models of the mosques and mountains, but because of the maze. They ran and climbed through the maze for an hour, playing some game of their invention. It’s strange that spending 24 hours a day together that Rebecca and I have so little time to talk. With the kids happily playing, we were able to sit on a bench and have a conversation.

The kids had all asked to go back to the bazaar that day. I guess the leeches were just too big an attraction. My friend in Istanbul sent me a message while we were at Miniaturk, however, telling me there had been a bombing near the entrance to the bazaar. It apparently targeted a police bus. Going to that area was obviously not a good choice. We didn’t feel unsafe then or at anytime in Istanbul. Our family worried more than we did. We simply changed our itinerary and did a boat tour of the Bosphorus instead. I was hoping to make it far enough to see the Black Sea at the north end of the Bosphorus. I was disappointed when we turned back before reaching a view of the Black Sea.

We missed our bus stop and so inadvertently explored a little further into the city, which was enjoyable. We ended up at a park, where our Frisbee was quite an attraction. Boys and girls were fighting for a chance to play with it.

An athletic youth walking through the park, stopped to do a routine of pull-ups and muscle-ups on the bar of the swing set. He enjoyed playing with our kids on the teeter totter too. I learned that his name is Abdul and he is alone in Istanbul, a refugee from Syria. “What city?” I asked. “Halep,” he said. I found out later that Halep is a variation of the name of the city we know in English as Aleppo, the capital of Syria. The city has been inhabited for perhaps 8000 years, but it currently the focus of civil war. This young man was sent to Istanbul by his parents, where he attends school. He said that when he needs money he calls his parents. What would you choose for your son, a lonely life as a stranger in Istanbul where there is a chance at an education and a future, or to stay with you in your home city which is being destroyed by war?

That night we had dinner at a vegetarian restaurant off the main drag in that part of the city. I ordered Aegean stew, having no idea what I would be getting. It was a cold medley of fava beans, artichoke hearts, and another ingredient that I can’t remember. Rebecca didn’t appreciate it, but I thought it was fine. Her stuffed eggplant looked fancy but was underwhelming.

Day 6

This was our day for travel from Istanbul to Cappadocia, “the land of beautiful horses,” so we said goodbye to our Airbnb apartment in the Beyoglu/Taksim neighborhood of Istanbul. We were glad to stay in a real apartment in a real neighborhood, rather than a hotel in a tourist district. Our children saw kids playing in the only place available to them: the street. Our kids have all played the video game Subway Surfers, in which you control a juvenile darting around, under and over obstacles in the subway system collecting coins and other prizes. Our youngest child found it rather fun to play Subway Surfers in real life, and the streets around our neighborhood made the perfect course. He squeezed between parked cars, jumped over posts, and ducked under clothes drying racks standing on the sidewalk.

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We locked up the apartment and started in a rush to make the ferry across the Bosphorus, where our guide from day 1 was going to meet us, give us a lightning tour of Chalcedon, and get us on the right bus for the airport on the other side of Istanbul. We just missed the tram that would take us towards the pier. It turns out I had misread the ferry schedule, mistaking weekend and weekday schedules, so our ferry was leaving ten minutes later than we thought. But when we arrived at the pier I had to recharge our Istanbul Card (actually our guide’s) to pay for the ride. It took a minute to realize that the machine I was at was spitting out both coins and ferry tokens, not recharging the card and giving change. By the time we gathered up the tokens we had missed the ferry. Our friend on the other side was waiting when we got there, but instead of a brief tour we had to go straight to the bus. He got some bonus ferry tokens as a very small thanks for his great friendliness and hospitality.

We had so far only spent time on the Eurpoean side of the city. The bus ride to the airport took us through the Asian side, which we found much greener. What is more, the Asian side has a commodity that is non-existent on the western side: open space.

I told my kids I had one request for this flight: a window seat. I wanted to see the country, especially the mountains, from the air. Unfortunately, there was a sheet of clouds between the plane and the ground. Cappadocia, when we got there, was amazingly fun. I will post on that soon.

We certainly enjoyed our time in the historic metropolis on the Bosphorus.

The name of the city of Istanbul comes from the Greek phrase eis ten polin, which means “into the city.” For centuries, it was simply The City. The emperor Constantine changed the name of Byzantium to “New Rome” when he made it the capital of the Roman Empire, but it was also known by his name, Constantinople. It later became the capital of the Ottoman Empire, until the empire ended in the early 1900s. A city with so many names, which has served as the capital of multiple empires, which spans two continents, which includes pagan, Christian, and Muslim history, which now has a population of 15 million, must be an interesting city. It was this city that was first on our list to explore.

My blog has been quite the last two weeks precisely because there has been so much to explore. Now that we are in Albania, our schedule is more settled and I am in another phase of the sabbatical, in which the point is contemplation. That gives me time to catch up on all that I wished I had time to say earlier. Expect more frequent posts over the next few weeks.

Day 1

Our first morning in Istanbul our five year old was awake at 4:00am. I was up with him at 5:45. Two of the other kids were up shortly after.

I drank a cup of tea on the balcony of our Airbnb apartment. Despite being in the middle of the city, the owner has managed to make it green. It also helps that the apartment looks out into a city park.

Our daughter said right off, “In the middle of the night, there was a guy, like, singing.” Yes, the Muslim call to prayer. That first night it mingled with my dreams. Half awake, I found myself thanking God for his beautiful grace. After a couple weeks I think I sleep right through it, as everyone else seems to ignore it as well. Only when we were outside a mosque have we seen anyone respond to the call to prayer in any way. And then it was a few people making their ablutions and entering the mosque for prayer. Of course people know that the call means it’s time to pray, but the fact that it’s in Arabic makes the words themselves unintelligible to Turks.

To let the sleepers continue to sleep, we walked over to the park behind the apartment. Then we walked down the street to a couple bakeries. They didn’t take credit cards. One bakery owner offered to give me bread. That was a good introduction to Turkey, although I turned him down. I tried withdrawing cash at three ATMs, but my own bank rejected the transaction at each one. I had called our bank specifically to let them know we would be travelling and using the card overseas, so this was a little irritating. Of course it is 10 hours later in Turkey, so the bank was closed. We would have to live the first day without cash. Fortunately our guide for day one, an acquaintance who has lived in Turkey for over 20 years, insisted on paying for everything.

It was so valuable to have a guide that first day. He took us down to the water, out to lunch (not too impressed by that first meal, unfortunately), and then on a ferry to the Prince’s Islands. On the ride over we saw just how large the city is. Istanbul spans two continents as it spreads out on either side of the Bosphorus (the channel of ocean connecting the Black Sea to the Sea of Marmara, which connects to the Aegean and the Mediterranean farther south). Even though we spent a couple months in Mexico City, which is nearly twice the population of Istanbul, I still found myself wondering how a city could possibly be so big. The amount of city is overwhelming.

We arrived at the Big Island and took a horse drawn carriage part way across the island and up towards its high point. From there we walked up the hill to an Orthodox church and a restaurant. The menu included the option of “old cheese,” which amused us.

Our guide said that as a student in Canada they had four grades of cheddar: mild, medium, old, and nippy. You have to admit “nippy” is a more colorful casein description than “extra sharp.” But “old” doesn’t sound quite the same as “aged” or “sharp.”

On the way down we were planning a pleasant walk through the woods, but by the time we got to the horse carriages it was raining pretty hard, so we chose the carriages again. We ran through pouring rain at the ferry dock to get on the boat. Everyone else on the island seemed to have the same idea. We rode a ferry packed with soaking wet people. Rebecca and some of the kids sat on the floor, as all the seats were taken. A young man who was also on the floor handed a blanket to me for our kids to use. Another nice gesture.

Two tired kids slept on the ferry ride home. Our guide left us where he lives in Kadikoy, the ancient city of Chalcedon, where the early church’s understanding of Christology was hammered out. We had a short ferry ride to the Eurpoean side of the city, and a tram ride after that. We thought we could make it home from there. We chose to take the funicular (a train or subway for steep slopes) up the hill to Taksim Square, a bustling hub of activity in Istanbul. We headed down the main street, Istiklal Caddesi, back towards our apartment, marveling at the endless stream of humanity heading both directions.

We arrived home rather late and fell into bed exhausted.

Day 2

On our second day in Istanbul we were blessed to have as our guides a good friend from seminary and his wife. We spent a little more time holed up in our apartment than planned due to rain, but enjoyed the conversation. 

Then we went out walking and bus riding to lunch (nice to try some new foods) and the grand bazaar and the spice bazaar.

The kids enjoyed looking at all the animals for sale, especially the large containers of leeches.

I’m pretty sure I got ripped off by one of the vendors at the spice bazaar when I bought a few varieties of dried fruit and candies. But I had also had a baker hand me back a 50 lira bill and take a 5 instead. I hadn’t understood that he meant 5.50, and I wasn’t even doing the conversion in my head. 50 lira is about 17 dollars, a bit expensive for a few pieces of bread. I appreciated his honesty and friendliness.

Our friends told us we had to try cigkofte, a Turkish snack or wrap. The word means raw meatballs, which was traditionally exactly what it was, but squeezed in the palm of the hand so that the indents of the fingers were left in the finished product. Somehow the dish has transformed itself into a vegetarian affair, with bulgur wheat, parsley, onion, and possibly even some pomegranate juice. If you think it sounds strange, just consider the “food” known as a hotdog. Does it get any weirder than a tube of textureless processed meat?

Well, yes, actually it does. Because with this snack of raw meatballs wrapped in lavash bread our friends also ordered a couple servings of turnip juice. Yep. The kids all bravely tried a sip. So did I. It was terrible. Like drinking spicy pickle juice. But my friend loves it.

He and his wife, by the way, train people who are coming to do ministry in turkey and Central Asia. Unfortunately it didn’t work out for us to visit their home and check out their work. I am interested in the influence of the gospel in this historic city.

My friend’s fitness gadget told him he had walked eight miles at the end of our time together, and estimated that he had done six miles with us. Our kids had walked all that too. Lots of walking would become common.

Day 3

Our third day in Istanbul was, as we tell our children, a church day. We attended a service at an international church in the morning and enjoyed fellowship over lunch in the church’s courtyard. We talked with a British couple who in one year had had their first baby, sold their house, and moved to Turkey to support the fledgling Christian church. They are currently in language school and considering where they will live and serve. They made it all seem so doable. When I mentioned that they responded, “Yes, but sometimes we also wonder what in the world we have done.”

During the service a Turkish woman was commissioned for work in Central Asia. The man next to me (the friend of my guide from day 2, it turned out) whispered to me that she was probably the first full time Christian worker to be sent out from Turkey. In the last few centuries, I think he meant, as Turkey was a major part of the Apostle Paul’s missionary travels, and played a major role in early Christianity. It was wonderful to hear this woman say, “This is what I was born to do.”

I had an opportunity to preach at a trilingual afternoon service, with English/Turkish translation done up front and translation into Farsi (for those from Iran) by earpiece. It reminded me of our own services: genuine, friendly, and unpolished. The translator for the sermon was the woman who was being commissioned for ministry in Central Asia. It turned out that it was the last Sunday for their Farsi translator too, as he was heading to the United States for a 3 month internship. How good and pleasant it is when God’s people live together in unity, says the Psalm. Good and pleasant and beautiful when the people come from the corners of the globe.

After the services, we found a place for ice cream as a reward for our children’s display of patience. I thought I was ordering three types of berries, but got lemon and an unknown flavor. It was quite good. We walked down to the Galata Tower, built by the settlers from Genoa, Italy around 1450, but the line was too long to be worth the wait. We found a tiny eatery with three things on the menu. We ordered and loved all three vegetarian items.

So far so good in The City.