HERE IS OSWALDO CHECKING THURSDAY’S WEATHER IN BODRUM, OUR NEXT STOP AFTER ISTANBUL: SIZZLING HOT TEMPERATURE AND STRONG WINDS. DETAIL: THIS IS THE DAY WE’LL SPEND ON THE SEA!
Steve Voss from the Philosophy department (who asks to be remembered to you, John, you were at Berkeley together) prudently sent a graduate student, Zeynep, to our quarters to make sure that we got on the right ferry. This turned out to be a good idea. We took a lengthy cab ride along the Mediterranean-like coast to chaotic, ferry-lined Besiktas (stress on first syllable).
When the rather old ferry arrived from its starting point in Istanbul, it was packed with tourists from all over the world and with no outside seats in view. We managed to squeeze in here and there and watched the display of both the European and the Asian sides of the strait bathed in warm sunlight and lapped by turquoise water.
The ferry stopped a couple of times to let off groups of passengers, and finally dropped the rest of us on the Asian side close to the Black Sea entrance at Anadoli Kavagi, site of a magnificent ruin of a medieval castle. Steve had instructed us to find a a taxi driver and offer him 10 Turkish lira for the ride up and down, but as the tourists started straggling up the steep hill in the bright sunshine, there was no car in sight. Leaving the Lehrers behind to wait for a cab, Oswaldo and I started up the hill, when from a rickety old car going down came the welcome cry of “Taksi, taksi?” Thus we met Ismael, wiry, white-haired retired NATO-machinist, who for 15 liras with a little English not only helped us find and seat the Lehrers in the car, but also took us up, gave a brief outline of the castle history and showed us where to go. Then he indicated that he would be back in 30 minutes and left us to (probably) do another ride or two.
The ferry stopped a couple of times to let off groups of passengers, and finally dropped the rest of us on the Asian side close to the Black Sea entrance at Anadoli Kavagi, site of a magnificent ruin of a medieval castle. Steve had instructed us to find a a taxi driver and offer him 10 Turkish lira for the ride up and down, but as the tourists started straggling up the steep hill in the bright sunshine, there was no car in sight. Leaving the Lehrers behind to wait for a cab, Oswaldo and I started up the hill, when from a rickety old car going down came the welcome cry of “Taksi, taksi?” Thus we met Ismael, wiry, white-haired retired NATO-machinist, who for 15 liras with a little English not only helped us find and seat the Lehrers in the car, but also took us up, gave a brief outline of the castle history and showed us where to go. Then he indicated that he would be back in 30 minutes and left us to (probably) do another ride or two.
The pictures tell the story of the wonderful and exciting view of the Black Sea. When Ismael returned to get us, he took us around the tiny town of maybe 400 people and showed us his house (with a gleaming Toyota in the garage), the narrow streets and a 200 year old tree. Lunch was taken at a restaurant deck right at the water’s edge (with the usual insistent cats in attendance), and we had a surprisingly well-cooked little sea-bass. After an ice-cream, hawked most competitively by, it seemed, all the young men of the town, we returned to theboat and the 1 1/2 hour ride back to Besiktas.
On our way back to the university housing we passed though an attractive suburb, Bebek. We decided to look it over for dinner later. We ended this most pleasant day in the company of our attentive hosts, Steve and Sun, at a rather upscale restaurant down by the water’s edge, where some of us engaged in an impassioned discussion about the Danish cartoons, and others got into Hume and Reed. I was, of course, representing the Danish view, whereas Steve understood the essence of the Muslim view. An interesting lesson in cultural diversity.
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