The Begining

Finally something to write about and my how good it feels.

I just opened this blog with a fragment which I really don’t like to do, but there is simply no other way to put it—frag-ed or otherwise. I’m sure you’re wondering what it is I’m just so elated to write about, but at the same time, you might know already.

Side note: I turned on my computer as soon as I boarded my train for the City. The conductor just came by while I was halfway through my third sentence, took my ticket, punched it, and said quite simply and void of emotion: “Enjoy your trip.” If only he knew what the trip I’m about to embark upon only modestly entails, perhaps he would have smiled or lifted his voice a bit more. But regardless.

Here I go and I’m so very excited to be able to take you right along with me as I did just over a short year ago on my voyage around the globe.

I just left the New London, Connecticut Amtrak train station—Union Station (and yes, to answer your question there about 10000000 Union Station’s across the United States of America). I’ve got a two hour and twenty-eight minute rail ride ahead of me, directly following the Connecticut’s Long Island Sound (LIS) coastline. New London and a touch of Waterford are a bit of a bore for the eye. But continuing further, riding past the marshlands in Niantic, the old, rotting and flooded broken down docks, with seagulls and egrets perched about and flying above, the coastline livens as we head south. Niantic is lovely: the rock formations off the beach protruding above the dark churning Sound sea; the chilled walkers filling the three-year old boardwalk as they try to enjoy the melancholy sky of this chilly Wednesday (13 June 07). Suddenly, Niantic ends—forest fills the landscape, surrounding the train.

A minute further south and Connecticut’s main artery is exposed—The Connecticut River. With its mouth just out of sight, its first Marinas are just a stone throw from the train’s bridge. The river ends in Old Saybrook. It has just snaked 600 some odd miles south from Canada, down through Vermont, Massachusetts, making its way through the capital city of its given name, still churning further, feeding its flood plains as it has done for centuries, finally dumping its contents—pollutants and all—into the LIS. Usually at this spot in the river, one of its widest, it is bustling with boat traffic, well, as bustling as this part of the river can be; yachts and sailboats, fish catchers and people towers, today there was only one measly powerboat cranking her way up the river from the Sound, I’m sure. Oh the pollutants.

The train stops. Passengers exit while other people now become passengers; it’s the nonstop cycle of Amtrak’s Northeastern Corridor Train system—Boston to Washington with some of the county’s greatest city’s as stops in between. But of course, just one of them stands out and shines above the rest, and it’s where I’ll be stopping soon…six more stops.

The tide is rising, making its way in from the mouth of the LIS, Stonington to Mystic, Groton feeding New London, creeping further and further in towards and up into the Hudson—New York’s main artery.

But I’ve digressed—big surprise.

I’m spending the night in the city and will be wine-ing and dine-ing with some of New York’s finest. Old college friends, if you will. Anyway, I’m going to call this City trip fluff considering what I’ve got in store for the next two and a half weeks or so.

I’m running off east, well, flying really, to what has been known as quite literally a gateway to the East—Asia, that is. It’s a country that, much like Russia, can fall quite comfortably into either a European or Asian category. Turkey is my first destination and I’m just fucking thrilled about it.

I’ll be spending my first days in its most known city—Istanbul, formerly and famously known as Constantinople. This was once one of the world’s richest cities, in all facets a city can be rich in. And yet, after the fall of the Ottoman Empire, it seems the world forgot about Istanbul. The sorrow of Empire and how a melancholy mood can linger on for centuries as a nation tries to rebuild itself into a world player. And that is just what it has done. Commonly confused as Turkey’s capital city (Ankara is the capital: its slightly southeast, 281 miles to be exact of Istanbul; it’s more centrally located, yet with still much more Turkish land to the east than west.), Istanbul is alive and well indeed.

The world’s second or “New Rome,” as it was coined by Emperor Constantine the Great on 11 May 330, sits, literally, as a gateway from east to west. The river running through it—The Bosphorus—empties the Black Sea and then feeds the Sea of Marmara, which then fills the Aegean and its abutting Mediterranean Sea neighbor. Land on both sides of the Bosphorus is part of Istanbul, but the western or European side is what we, knowers of history and art, war and peace, nation and state, understand and indeed envision when we speak of Istanbul: the Aya Sofya (Hagia Sophia), the Blue Mosque, the Grand Bazaar, and of course—the rugs. The eastern part of the city is more like New York's Brooklyn and Queens. The east is connected with the west by an elaborate system of ferries, endlessly running back and forth to keep the metropolis alive, hoping it never falls again.

Turkey’s geography, Istanbul alike, plays more of a role than just the weather. It is neighbors with some of the worlds most spoken of states. For starters: Syria, Iraq, and Iran, followed by Armenia, Georgia (where they tried to throw the bomb at W.!), Bulgaria, and Greece’s outreaching eastern arm—along with the majority of its islands. And though to my mother’s great relief, Istanbul lies in the most northwestern part of the country (picture an oval with an arm and hand off its top left corner—there’s Istanbul, right on the wrist), as far from Iraq, Iran, and Syria as a traveler in Turkey can be, it is still a city of focus for radicals and politics, conflict and turmoil, urban dwellers and business folk alike.

If you’re a reader of international news, perhaps you’ll recall that Turkey has been in the headlines for the past few months and more recently, for more deadly reasons than the norm. They have a young government (though older than Iran’s revolutionary one) with a devoutly religious population. And yet, as a secular state founded in 1923 by the revered and infamous Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, radical Islam has made its way into the Parliament and is indeed evoking religious and political trouble throughout the country. Bombs and threats, wars games and spies are a daily part of political life in the newly tumultuous Turkey. I won’t even go into the debates being had over what to do about Kurdish Turks and Iraqi Turks at the moment. Maybe I’ll save that talk for when I’m back soundly in the states…though I do enjoy the cliffhanging adventure, but I’m trying not to turn more of my parents hair grey.

Nonetheless, as a global player—and that Turkey certainly is—it has done one hell of a juggling act. They’re trying to join the European Union (EU) while at the same time radical Islam is slipping into its government whilst they fight on both sides of their border with Iraq. They have tightly tied interests in the Middle East, and yet also have to appeal to the dollars in the West, all the while pleasing their citizens at the same time. Wow. WWWD? (What would W. do? Ha. Ha.)

Well anywho. After I tire from the sights, the tea, and the bargaining, I’ll board a plane headed southwest for Bodrum; a popular peninsula between the Aegean and Turquoise (Mediterranean Sea) coasts. This is a spot where wealthy and well traveled Turks and global citizens have enjoyed for years. I don’t even remember how Bodrum came into play as a part in my travel plans, but I don’t really care either. There’s history and culture, shopping and a shore (supposedly stunning), and Ephesus is not far if I’m in need of a day trip. (FYI: As a city with one of the biggest archeology draws in the country, Archeologists digging in Ephessus just found (about a month and a half ago) the first ever graveyard of Gladiators—you know, the ones who spent their lives fighting each other for the people’s entertainment so their days in prison would not be as boring…ha.) History, art, life, and death…oh how I love the rest of the world and its aged cultures.

After a few sun kissed days in Bodrum, I’ll board a ferry bound for Greece. Well, one of its many islands anyway. Kos is my first stop and it’s only a 30 minute ferry ride. I’ll spend a night on the large island of Kos (though not nearly as large is its southern neighbor Rhodes or Crete) in the hotel where I had the most interesting of conversations when I made the reservation.
Me: Hello. I was wondering if you have a room available on 22 June for one person for one night.
Greek Hotel Man Employee (with very broken, very thick Greek accent): Yes, we do.
Me: Oh, great. I’ll take it.
GHME: Ok. What is your name?
Me: Jeffrey.
GHME: My name is John. Nice to meet you Jeffrey, see you soon.
Me: Ummm, you don’t need a credit card or anything to hold my room?
GHME: No, you pay Euro when you get here. It nice room with balcony and view. No worry.
Me: Wow. Great. Thanks, see you soon John.

Kos is one of the many islands in the Dodecanese Islands which are east of Greece on Turkey’s border in both the North Aegean, Southern Aegean, and Mediterranean Seas. Ferry’s run from Bodrum three times a week, Monday, Tuesday and Friday (yeah, pretty random). After my night in Kos, I’ll head to the airport, of which I can’t imagine will be more than a dusty landing strip, and board the plane for 25 minutes north to the much smaller island of Leros. My conversation with the hotel man in Leros was not nearly as exciting as the one in Kos—he took my credit card information.

After my night in Kos, the second true part of my grand adventure begins. I’ll be boarding a fifty foot sailboat with 7 other passengers, and three crew members—a captain, first mate and cabin boy (which I very may well become as well..teehee). From Leros, we’ll sail and peruse about the Dodecanese islands for seven days, making six hidden stops in some of Greece’s smallest and least populated islands. This, I have no doubt, will be one of the many highlights of my grand expedition.

After I came back from my Semester at Sea aboard the grandiose MV Explorer, I was itching for a real sailing adventure. Having had a 100 day love affair with the sea, I was in need of a much closer, albeit it shorter, experience together. For the Sea, in all its glory is the most unexplored and misunderstood facet of our world. Scientists argue that more is known about outer space than is known of the sea; it’s deep, dark, and dangerous, and technology, thankfully, can only go so far. However, thanks to the one and only Rachel Carson and her brilliant ‘The Sea Around Us” (and let’s not forget “Silent Spring”), much more is known about the ever powerful, ever changing, and forever surprising sea that surrounds us. As for the Greek Islands, it’s a region of the world I’ve yet to delve into, and I couldn’t be more excited about it.

After sailing about, and learning the ropes as much as I can, our final port of call is the large central island of Samos. In Samos, I’ll board an overnight ferry bound for Piraeus, Athens’s bustling and famous port on its eastern side. Greece has a brilliant and indeed elaborate ferry system; and rightfully so considering it’s lively, numerous, and popular off shore islands.

Once in Athens, I’m parking my archeticture adoring ass at the Acropolis where I’ll probably pass out or even die from shock. The Acropolis is the one place I have dreamed of ever since I’ve started eating up all of Art History. More so than Rome and anywhere else in Europe, Athens and its stunning thrones will indeed fulfill a massive amount of my art and worldly pleasure, and I simply cannot wait. But then again, I will. There’s lots to see in between, too.

Well, I’m in the tunnel at Penn now. Never did I expect this to take me the full 2.28 to get done, but hey, what are you going to do.

Until I’m in Turkey…cheers.