This blog is a personal record of my pilgrimage to Haifa, Israel, with side trips to London, Istanbul, Edirne, and Tel Aviv. You have arrived at the end but if you want to start at the beginning you can click HERE or on the list to your left. Then scroll to the bottom of that page where the first entry, Sept. 14, resides.

WARNING: this is me thinking about my stuff. There may, or may not, be more entries, but there will certainly be changes to existing entries as I think about my stuff. You are welcome to listen in.

This is my husband, fondly known as H, with his feet in the surf on Jerusalem Beach in Tel Aviv. He is not, in the slightest, responsible for the content of this blog.

People who might want to read it include:
- Baha'is planning a pilgrimage;
- anyone interested in "the meaning of life", travel, or the Baha'i Faith;
- friends and relatives who are worried I'll ask if they have read my blog;
- those whose computer has frozen on this page who can't remember the 3-finger salute. It's ctrl-alt-delete and don't say I never did you a favor.

The rest of you are also welcome but if your primary interest is in learning more about the Baha'i Faith you would be better served by going to www.bahai.org

This blog started out as a way to communicate with the folks back home and to keep track of when I did what in case I ever want to look it up. It has evolved into something more serious and, at the same time, mildly Pythonesque. I really didn't mean to do this but I'm glad it happened.

Be forwarned: I believe that the purpose of life is to learn to become radiantly acquiescent to the will of God. I know this sounds bizarre at a time in history when the ideal is self-involved and hell-bent and when people who talk about the will of God are liable to tick as they sit beside you on the bus.

So, let me put it another way. The sensible thing to do is not to "rage against the dying of the light" (a remarkably stupid idea) but to let go and ENJOY WHAT IS, accepting it rather than shit-fitting against the inevitable. This is not easy, at least not for me. Does this mean you are an idiot to do your best to change things for the better? No, you can try. You might not succeed but you might, too, and that's a good thing.

I am not, by the way, saying that you will win more easily trying to do something right than doing what you know is wrong. History and everyday life prove the opposite is true. God has an eternity to make something of the human race, individually and collectively. He is in no rush.

Another thing: we are all the servants of God which means that for some of us (quite a few, in fact) our primary service is as bad examples. Getting what we want, when we want it, can only occur at the expense of making complete fools of ourselves. Rampaging dictators, serial killers, and ordinary but useless or poisonous people live false lives, learning nothing. Then, they go to the hell of their own making. That's what I think.

I was not born with this religious p.o.v., of course. Just thinking about submission to the will of God annoys me, probably as much or more than it does you. I am conflicted, in short, by believing something I would rather not believe. My personal preference for a life's mission lies in quite a different direction. If you are interested in what diverted me, you can hear the Baha'i Writings on audio at www.bahaistudy.org/audio.html You can also download all the religious books known to humankind (nearly) from www.ocean.org This collection has marvellous search and compilation features that make putting together your own religious tracts or atheist rants a breeze. Enjoy.

A few days before leaving for Israel, it occurred to me that every journey needs a purpose. Living with the conflicts and contradictions between my Baha'i beliefs and my natural inclinations had gone on long enough. Resolving these became the goal of my pilgrimage. Is this goal attainable? Did I attain it?
No
Probably not
Perhaps
Partly
Yes
(Take your pick. I don't know.)

As you are probably already aware, blogs are backwards. I haven't read one (it's on my To Do list), so I don't know how this works in practice. In an attempt at coherence, I will try to update entries so that they make sense in light of what comes next. No promises, though. Essentially, as in all things, you are on your own (now, doesn't that go to the heart of the matter?)

If there are rules around blogging, I don't know what they are. The way I think best is to make notes, write, read what I wrote, think about it, write some more. My notes were blog entries made in various hostels, airports, and internet cafes. Now is the time to rewrite which includes add-ons, changes, evolution, and editing. I will try to spell things correctly but be damned if it is American, British or a combination. This is my right as a Canadian.

Should you find yourself stirred to sort me out on matters of opinion, you can send a comment to: cheeryquery@yahoo.com One thing is for sure: if you try to explain why you think either my grammar or punctuation is off, I won't understand a word you say while totally disrespecting your right to say it.

Home, Again
The Baha'i Centre was broken into and the town is going nuts with drug-induced robberies. JP's house burned down with everything he owns in it, including precious memorabilia of happy times in a life, it seems to me, full of tragedy. The grandkid is back on Ritalin. In short, things are pretty normal around here.

The end of my pilgrimage, at least the physical part. I said, in the beginning, that I hoped to figure out why God is so hard on us, on all creation (see October 2 entry). I have heard "it's for our own good" and "we'll understand later", but that has never been enough. I am a religious person with "enlightenment" attitudes which is both illogical and uncomfortable.

I particularly dislike the notion that God is somehow not responsible for the human condition: "We do it to ourselves". Yes, we could do a lot better if we just listened to what we already know. But all life in this world is intrinsically difficult, tragic by its very nature.

Emotionally, I am a little kid screaming "Whyee??!!" Not so much about my own troubles of which I, sometime, came to, sometimes, see the point, the learning, the gain. But specific troubles outside my own make me crazy. Why that whole family dying of cold in the Kashmir? Why that stray dog full of worms? Why JP's house?

A friend, whose son had a stroke at age sixteen and who asked, "Why me, mom?", replied, "Why not you?" which is a good point, logically, and might resolve the issue for an existentialist. But, again, it fails to answer emotionally.

The Baha'i Writings are clear that the goal is to leave this life with "radiant acquiescence" to the will of God. The whole quote, from 'Abd'ul-Baha, is:

"When one is released from the prison of self, that is indeed freedom! For self is the greatest prison. When this release takes place, one can never be imprisoned. Unless one accepts dire vicissitudes, not with dull resignation, but with radiant acquiescence, one cannot attain this freedom."

I've often said "I'm still working on dull resignation" but, lately, that hasn't seemed funny. I really want OUT. Of what? The "prison of self". Not because I am any more spiritual in nature but because this world is not as much fun as it once promised to be. It's still fun, mind you, but I am looking forward to greater things, wider spheres. A self-involved motivation but the real me.

48 Hours
We left Israel at 10:40 a.m. on November 3 and arrived home around 10:00 p.m. on November 4. So, with 10 hours time difference that makes about 48 hours, If not, let me know.

First stop, Istanbul. Then Zurich. Then overnight in London. Then Vancouver. Then Prince George, where it was snowing, where Roland picked us up, and from whence we puddled home. Moments of interest included delays leaving, delays landing, lost luggage and turbulence over the Atlantic. Low point was the second "pizza pocket" served on the flight to London. High point was dinner on Air Canada. Actually, it was pretty good and I shouldn't complain.

Hard to believe that only a few days ago we were here: Jerusalem Beach

Not my photo so I'll post one of H, soon. I'm going to stay in bed until my ankles return to their normal size.

Last Night
The pilgrim's farewell was at the Shrine of the Bab and the "Queen of Carmel" was dressed in light for the event. Beautiful.

No time to blog, as we are going by train to Tel Aviv for our last night. We will return to Canada via Istanbul, Zurich and London (long story, cheap ticket) so the next couple of days will be strenuous. I hope to catch up in the next few weeks and to correct a multitude of errors and omissions in past entries.

Until then ...

The Queen Of Carmel

I'll try to find a sound clip but meanwhile here are the words to the song:

Queen of Carmel
Standing on the mountain
Looking 'cross the bay
The Queen of Carmel reigns
She reigns majestically.

Chorus
Cry out O Zion
Cry out to your Lord
Cry out O Zion
Circle 'round in adoration
Circle 'round your Lord!

Robed in white and crowned in gold
She stands for unity
Shining on the Throne of God
She lights the seekers way.

Yesterday and Today
Yesterday, I almost didn't make it out of the sack. H was already at the bus stop having left me comotose, refusing to try face the day. But somehow I did.

First, we went to the Mansion of Baji, then the House of 'Abd'ullah Pasha, then the Garden of Ridvan. All very beautiful and inspiring. I was too tired to take any pictures but found exactly the right ones online:

Day 7 of Somebody Else's Pilgrimage


I especially loved looking out of the Pasha's House at the old sea wall and the Mediterranean beyond. Baha'u'llah said if you count forty waves from this spot and say "God is Most Great" for each one all your sins are forgiven. He added that this also works anywhere else in the world! But in Acca it feels special. H says Baha'u'llah also made a comment about the joys of getting bitten by a flea in Acca which we passed on to several people who had acquired mysterious, itchy bumps on the trip. Excellent reframing.

Our guide, as on the other days, was Ursula Grossman (wife of the UHJ member)who told us lots of sad stories and some fun ones, too. I think my favorite was Shoghi Effendi, age five or so, pestering his grandfather to write him a letter. I couldn't remember or find the exact words but 'Abd'ul-Baha wrote something like this:

"O My Shoghi...I am busy! Leave me alone! You said write and I have written. Now is not the time for you to read and write, it is the time for jumping about and chanting, 'O My God!', therefore memorize the prayers of the Blessed Beauty and chant them that I may hear them..."

So Shoghi Effendi did. He learned as many prayers as he could and chanted them so loudly that not only `Abdu'l-Bah? heard him, but everyone in the neighbourhood as well. His parents told him to chant more quietly, but `Abdu'l-Baha smiled and told the grown-ups let him chant as he liked. The orginal of this letter hangs on a wall of the Pasha's House.


In the Garden of Ridvan there were pomellos, grapefruit, limes and other fruit but H was not able to beg any of them. The caretaker said nothing was ripe. This is his first failure to acquire fruit from a holy garden.

Last night, we went to bed at 8:30 p.m. and I didn't wake up for twelve hours. H went off, this morning, to tour the buildings on the Arc (the seat of the Universal House of Justice, the International Teaching Centre, and the Centre for the Study of the Holy Texts).

We have been invited to supper with an Iranian friend from Canada who is serving here.

Shabbat
It's been hard to find time on the computer, lately, so I will have to try to store up some memories for later. Today is Saturday and most businesses and all government buildings are closed.

Yesterday, H went to Acca and Baji with some friends from Vancouver and today we are going to have brunch with a young lady he met in Ulon Bator (Khajacstan). I have no idea if I'm spelling these places correctly. No, in fact I'm pretty sure they are spelled wrong. I'll use Google -- it is a great spell corrector because it says: Do You Mean XXX? which gives you the correct spelling.

Okay, Google in Hebrew was not a lot of help but google.ca came up with Kazakhstan. Much better.

Anyway, Zaynab is in her mid-twenties, about 5'9", and beautiful. Like an Arabian warrior princess (did Arabs have those? -- they do now) and she is job seeking in places like Somalia and Afghanistan where she hopes to do development work with an aid agency. Very intimidating. Or she would be if she weren't so warm.

Zaynab made brunch and one of the dishes was traditional Kazakhastani porridge which was quite delicious. Like Pablum only tastier. I googled it and came up with 390 hits. One informed me that: "Festive foods include a sugared wheat porridge just for women called sumalakh and cinnamon-spiced veal called khalem for men." Hmm. Redemption follows with "On International Women's Day, the streets are decorated with tulips and men give women bouquets of flowers. This is a day off work for everyone, especially women. Men take care of household tasks for the day."

That's better. I was in Moscow on International Women's Day in 1992 and the women's washrooms weren't open in Red Square. I thought that was cheeky. Still, Russian ladies would have not have appreciated Russian men taking care of that particular task for the day.

Anyway, I am not going to include a link to the web site but if you want, you can google "sumalakh". All six quote the same source. There are no recipes, however.

Going Up
We are beginning to feel like Jack and Jill who carried pails of water up the hill and, in this case, and fell down strictly from exhaustion.

Yesterday, we spent several hours in the archives building where all kinds of things have been preserved from the daily lives of Baha'u'llah and the rest of His Family. I was pleased to find several Chinese cabinets and a couple of wall plaques with Imperial dragons on them. China is my favorite part of the world.

Most things were personal effects like writing instruments and examples of tablets (letters) sent back and forth to various early Baha'is. These have been given back by the families who preserved them through the difficult years and are now on display in Haifa.

One example, was "quite a lot of hats" (the 'fez'), the guide explained, which had been given as gifts to various people and had now been returned. Examples of coats and other clothing reflected styles common in Persia and then in Turkey where Baha'u'llah and His Family were exiled before Palestine.

For example, Bahiyy'ih Khanum ('Abd'ul-Baha's sister) had collected hair from the combs and combined them into locks of hair which are on display. It was all very interesting to have a glimpse at daily life at such a different time.

The best display, for me, was three cabinets with paintings done of the Bab (one) and Baha'u'llah (three) and the single photograph that has been authenticated. Apparently, others that claim to be are probably not real at all. My feet were killing me so Ursula kindly found me a chair and I ended up sitting in front of the cabinet containing the photograph. The doors were closed, by this time, since this is such a precious and irreplacable object, but it felt good to just sit there.

I had viewed a photo of Baha'u'llah previously (in Chicago in 1967) and had an intense reaction that time. Hard to describe. I was at my least spiritual (which is saying something) because I was nine months pregnant and having a lot of trouble connecting with anything but my own bodily functions. The entire conference is a blur -- the only thing I remember was running into an old boyfriend and having no idea what his name was. We all sat there looking stupid while I tried to think how to introduce him to H. Didn't happen.

So, I was not really expecting much from the photo. What I got was an intense awareness that I was looking at "the Lord of the Universe". Certainly not "Abd'ul-Baha's dad", as somebody once put it. 'Abd'ul-Baha's photos are everywhere but Baha'u'llah's photo stays in the Holy Land except for, I think, this one occasion. Now I know why.

Anyway, that same realization didn't happen in Haifa but the photo still had a huge impact that I can't articulate. Sitting there, trying to remember it, was exactly where I wanted to be.

Here's my favorite picture of: 'Abd'ul-Baha. There are lovely ones of Him as an elderly man, too.

Today we are going to Akka (a.k.a. Akko, Accre), the Garden of Ridvan and other wonderful places.

Baji
Twelve hours sleep but still cranky and I have a bad cold (don't think I've said that yet). On to buses and off to the resting place (grave) of Baha'u'llah which is, for us, the Kiblah (sp?) or centre of the universe, the place to which we turn to pray the daily obligatory prayers. Like Mecca, only for Baha'is.

Still cranky until I was face to face with the doorway to the place where His dust actually lies. People were prostrating ( I always thought this meant flat out but it doesn't) all over the place but a) I'm creaky b)in public, for crying out loud? and c) so I didn't. But God and I had a chat and now I feel better and am quite chipper. Probably not as religous as I should be but chipper is a definite improvement. Those who know me will relate to this as THE TRUTH.

It's 13:49 (3:49 p.m. for those of you stuck in North America or wherever -- nah, nah, na, na, nah, as I might have said when I was six) and we are are off to visit with the Universal House of Justice. If this sounds a tad over the top as a title, wait until YOU meet them. Not that I have but I have a sense - or do I? We shall see. Excuse me while I go collect H who is smoking it up in the courtyard.

Hilly Haifa
We reached Haifa, by bus, on Monday morning and met the world-famous Rachel at the world-famous Port Inn. If you haven't been there, you really must go. Best hostel in the world, or close to it.

We checked in there and then at the Pilgrim's Reception Centre. I immediately went into a blue funk as I am inclined to do at these religous events. Dunno why but happy faces in groups depress the hell out of me. I think it brings up childhood issues.

Anyway, we got ourselves registered, herded into groups, orientated (CAN there be such a word?) and outa there before I completely disgraced myself, I like to think. "Home" again, a good sleep, and then to Baji.

McDonald's Update
Or: Wherein we discover it's not so much Israel, but Tel Aviv, that is not for us (see next entry).

We stayed in Old Jaffa which is "historic" -- read mostly pretty beat up and dirty and the views are "stupendous" -- read they oughta see Vancouver. Still, no doubt a "vibrant city" if you find the downtown (we didn't but we are not very bright) and like to party (too old, too pooped). Enuf of Tel Aviv except for McDonald's.

I was poised to add McDonald's on Jerusalem Street to my list of complaints but, oh, what a surprise. Now, surprise is not something McDonald's is known for which is why we go there, is it not? But in Israel the food is different and a huge improvement. I would imagine it follows both kosher and halal dietary laws because there was not a cheeseburger in sight and the place was full of Arabs knoshing on fries, burgers, and chicken mcnuggets.

The fries were perfect, even for McDonald's. There seemed to be a brief period, in North America, when they disappointed because some vegetarians won a court case based on the fact that the big clown uses beef fat in the fryer. Somehow, MacDonald's adjusted (or I did) and the fries returned to normal which is perfect if they are fresh. Anyway, the Israeli fries were perfect, too.

The burger (H's) was huge and just delicous. He could only eat half (he's a little guy - lol) and so I finished his (I'm not a little guy - not funny at all) after polishing off my mcnuggets. Or is it McNuggets? Anyway, the nugs were also huge (about twice the usual size), all white meat and juicy to boot. Yum.

The only reason we went there was that all the falafel stands seemed to be closed and, of course, I wanted to add to my list of McDonald's Of the World I Have Visited. Gonna write a book. My initial complaint was that the washroom was the dirtiest I've experienced except for New York. McDonald's, whatever else you think of them, can generally be counted on for cleanliness. Often, as in China and Russia, there is a busy little soul who stands in line with everybody else and swabs away when her turn comes. Or there are two or three busy people who swab away full time.

This is especially necessary in countries where people don't expect much from bathrooms. In China and Russia, for example, men seem to aim in the general direction of the door (no, not the urinals). How do I know? Sometimes, early on, one doesn't know how to find the gender specific facility. One wanders inappropriately, causing consternation to locals and to oneself.

Another small incident at McDonald's: (are you really still reading this? please post and explain yourself) I watched an Arab family, a mom and half a dozen kids, for quite a while. One son was peppering mom with french fries which mostly amused her. Several little girls turned to watch me and I smiled. The smallest one (about six) glared at me and would not smile back. An older girl went out of her way to be friendly. Thus, we ascertain that human nature is the same everywhere. Some people are a bit jerky and will probably grow up to cause trouble and some have soft hearts and a desire to make peace in the world. And some of us are a little of each.

In Israel, in case you didn't know, cute girls stand around, often two or more to a block, with machine guns. Which is a bit unnerving for someone from a country where teenager girls tend to be ditzy and kids are not, generally speaking, encouraged to carry automatic weapons. Here, a few months of basic training and a uniform seem to have minimized the risks, at least to tourists. These soldiers are, I suppose, Jewish girls so my little antagonist from the MacDonald's on Jerusalem Street will not grow up to be one of them.

Note, later: I tried to find you a photo online but couldn't which confirms the sense I had at the time that taking pictures might be a bad idea.

Tel Aviv
So far, Israel is not for us: the unfriendliness of many people and the lack of service; the weird hours for opening and closing banks and everything else (inconvenient to annoying to downright dangerous); the air pollution which is much more affecting than either Istanbul or London, for some reason; even the casual cruelty to animals that Shelley warned us about. Brief details below. I freaked. The local response was, "Oh, he enjoys it."

We had no hot water for several days until somebody noticed that the control was turned off in our room. We couldn't find English news on the television because somebody had tuned in a multitude of Russian stations instead. The staff had no ideas about (or interest in) fixing these things but we finally figured them out for ourselves. Well, H did. I would have died dirty and ignorant, of old age, if it had been left to me.

Now that I've complained, I must admit some things are pretty nice. Our hostel is like a hobbit house (ancient with tiny doorways) and reasonable clean, attractive and comfortable. Again, we have a twin room with toilet/shower. The room is bigger and cleaner than the one in Istanbul but there's no room service. Still, a staff member pointed to a broom when I said I needed one.

Old Jaffa feels ancient and historic. There's a famous bakery around the corner that sells pitas and many other delicious things 24/7 (no kidding). Good thing because there's no famous Israeli breakfast at our hostel and not even a cup of tea or coffee to be had. The area has lots of falafel/schwarma stands and the one we went to put together a delicious meal for about US $8 for the two of us.

We also had (expensive) fresh fish from the Mediterranean but a three year old boy tormented a tiny kitten by swinging it at a dog throughout our meal. Yes, I intervened (freaked) but besides saying "He enjoys it" (I assume she meant the kitten since it was obvious the kid was having a good time), the manager's (mom's) only action was to send the three of them elsewhere. Later, I saw the kitten lying in the middle of the floor so exhausted it couldn't move.

Enough. We are going out to play "ride the bus to God only knows where" which is usually fun.

UPDATE: our hostel in Haifa and another in Tel Aviv were to prove much friendlier and more efficient. We also saw animals treated with kindness in other places.

Cats and Dogs
Still in Tel Aviv, enjoying the peace and quiet of Shabbat. But to wrap up loose ends from Instanbul, I want to say something about the animals.

Istanbul dogs and cats are numerous and mostly strays, wandering the streets searching for food which seems to be plentiful because most of them are not thin, and those that are probably have worms. They cross streets carefully and we didn't see one come close to being hit although it must happen. Still, the drivers try to allow for them.

The dogs curl up in planters, under bus benches, or wherever else they have a nap attack. The cats, as cats everywhere, seem to prefer to be in the way as much as possible. They stretch out in doorways, for example, and customers simply step over them.

A few dogs have collars and fewer still are on leashes but most are definitely on their own. A few come up to beg and quite a few people stop to feed them (even cat or dog food) and pet them although not all will come to be petted. The dogs are generically big yellow or brown guys of mixed breed and all that we saw were gentle creatures with the same patient outlook on life that most Istanbullus seem to share Although, we did see a couple of outbursts of what we took to be Ramazan Rage from drivers.

The cats look like Canadian cats but dustier. Those in Tel Aviv, by contrast, look like they are straight out of an Egytian wall carving. All in all, as Shelley put it, "Turks are kind to animals".

Although, as everywhere, they are hard on birds who might have the 'flu (like you don't already feel bad enough but some guy in a white outfit stuffs you in a sack). Actually it's really sad. On one broadcast, we heard the birds crying pathetically -- I guess we are spared that kind of reality on North American television.

Speaking of birds, like Chinese crows, the ones here (both in Turkey and Tel Aviv)are grey and black and quite sassy looking. They aren't quite as smart, though. We have watched them try to think what to do with a large hunk of bread which our crows would have pecked once or twice then taken away to drop in water to soften it up. They left it.

One last creature: we watched sea urchins undulating through the water at the Kardakoy dock. Mostly tiny, but one was a couple of feet across. They are incredibly delicate and we thought the big guy had had it when a row boat came by. No, the rower saw it and dipped his oar to let it go by, unharmed.

Tommorrow, I'll try to tell you about Tel Aviv -- old Jaffa, actually.

Edirne (Adrianople)
I am catching up here: this is actually being written in Tel Aviv where, thank God, the keyboard is more or less normal.

On the trip to Edirne, our bus was named BIGA CAN according to a sign in the window. We thought this was a bit disrespectful as it seemed to be a perfectly okay bus. Perceptions deceive, however, and BIGA CAN quit, after much huffing and puffing and several attempts to fix him. We waited patiently for about an hour before another, more beautiful, bus came along and rescued us.

Other than that, the trip to Edirne was hugely successful. H bought a beautiful ring from the nice Baha'i merchant at the mosque where Baha'u'llah defeated His perfidious brother Mirza YaYa. Long story but basically YaYa was challenged, and agreed, to meet Baha'u'llah in public at the mosque to explain his incredibly bad behavior (it really was) but then didn't have the nerve to show up. I guess you sort of had to be there but YaYa lost all credibility over this incident. Baha'u'llah writes about this incident and it was quite amazing to read His words in the place they were written.

The mosque is lovely and is considered the finest Ottoman mosque in Turkey. I couldn't find a photo of the interior online that does justice to the reality. It's architect later created the Blue Mosque in Istanbul but this one has a much finer, more peaceful, interior. Frankly, I thought the Blue Mosque was just a tad gaudy and didn't have much of a spiritual feeling to it.

Here are some photos from a web site we tried to contact but couldn't:

Edirne Holy Places

These pictures don't do justice to their subjects. The house of Baha'u'llah is a modest but beautiful place, nicely refinished except for the original bathroom which was the same marble basin that He would have used. We also visited a garden on the site of another house He lived in and were given fruit from the garden: a pomegranate, several figs and a quince. All delicious.

The return trip was uneventful. Altogether a wonderful day.

Trials and Tributes
My tummy problems continue which means Y am spending a day 'at home' for every day having fun in Ystanbul.Janet will no doubt recall her own trials in China when Y was not all that sympathetic to her eating endless boiled eggs. For me, it's yogurt that keeps me going.

Yesterday, we went to the house which is now on the spot where Baha'u'llah and His large fam?ly stayed. There is an amaz?ng feeling to the place due to, Y suppose, the personal items such as a ring He worse and, you guessed it, several locks of His hair. Serves me right for dissing somebody else's religious credulity. Y still don't think that was really John the Baptist's arm.

Later, we went to Kadikoy (Asian side) to a restaurant recommended by the nice Turkish man at the NSA office. Great Antatolian food for a lot less than in Sultanamet, the tourist area where we are staying.

Today, H went off to the archeolog?cal museum at Topkapi Palace while Y stayed home with CNN International and BBC World.

Edirne on Wednesday and Thursday, Tel Aviv. We are booked into the Old Jaffa Hostel for four days. Yt is supposed to be wonderfully historic but we are hoping more for clean. Am Y starting to reconsider the joys of cheap travel? Could be.

Turkysh Delyght
Sorry about all the ys but I haven't much tyme. Yesterday I stayed home wyth my plumbyng problems and H went to Topkapy Palace and the Cystern where he vyewed John the Baptyst's ryght arm, encased yn sylver, yet. Gyve me a break. He was ympressed by the hordes of young women yn "full Islamyc chyc" gathered around the hayrs from Muhammad's beard and other precyous relycs. I feel so depryved.

Tyme for a rant - nah, let's skyp yt. Let's just say that I fynd yt a tad unlykely.

Today we found ourselves yn the Orthodox Patryarche whych apparently ys the nomynal head of all the Orthodox churches - Greek, Russyan, Cypryot et al. The place was overrun by pryests and nuns yn full Chrystyan regalya and the church was decked yn gold, gold, gold - fayrly common around here but thys was really over the top.

Gee. do I ever hate palaces and bygi gaudy churches. Funny, but the Aya Sofya was really beautyful and FELT reverent. Completely dyfferent than the Blue Mosque. Fussy of me.

Tomorrow, we go to see Baha'u'llah's home yn Bagdad.

Why ? and When Y?
Yt seems that sometymes the same keyys ? and sometymes yt ys a capytal Y and sometymes normal "i". What's up wyth that?
Too bizarre. The keys seem to change all by themselves. Yt was a lot of work to show you all three. Y had to cut and paste examples.


? g?ve up. You get what you get. Did ? mention we finally have televis?on. The choices are BBCWorld and BBCPr?me. CNN ?nternational and a Turkish statyon that runs American and French sytcoms with Turkish subtitles. Works best for us when they are Amerycan but we watch them all.

Finally. Sunsh?ne
?t has been cold and rainy in ?stanbul for several days. We can't seem to resist ferrying back and forth across the Golden Horn to Kadakoy and the result was we were so chilled and miserable that ? decided to spend the day in bed. More like my body decided for me -- ? thought ?'d come down with the flu. my legs and feet were swollen and ? ached all over. No doubt the rest of the world is aware that Turkey ?s hav?ng a bird flu cris?s. ? didn't suspect that but dengue fever did cross my mind. Luckily. the day under the covers w?th lots of aspirin did the trick.

At the Turkish National Centre (aga?n. a ferry to Kadakoy)we met a lovely Turk?sh Baha'i who gave us a book about Baha'u'llah's time ?n Constantinople and Adrianople. We will v?sit one of the houses He lived in on Monday (probably) and then go to Ed?rne. the modern name for Adrianople) on Tuesday. ?tis hard to accept that our two weeks ?n Turkey is drawing to a close. We are already talk?ng about com?ng here to l?ve and work (lots of TESL jobs) for a few months one winter). Who knows?

I think ?'ll cut this short. Collywobbles. Sultan's revenge. Aaiiiieeee!

Down But Not Out
Techn?cally, ? wrote the following entry two days ago. Yesterday, we were so completely pooped out by non-stop tour?st?ng that we slept almost the whole day. Back at ?t today though. We went to vis?t the Turkish Nat?onal Centre and more about that above. Back to Wednesday:

The Internet ?s down so I am wr?t?ng th?s on Word Pad. Today ?s the 11th day of our tr?p and our 8th day ?n Turkey. Thanks to all your prayers and the Turk?sh skyl?ne, we have been do?ng rather well, so far, but today we are exhausted. A sure s?gn ?s that H and ? are f?ght?ng about who hurts the most. ? am start?ng to wonder ?f th?s gett?ng old ?s such a good ?dea.

The tr?p on the Bosphoros was amaz?ng but ? f?nd there ?s not much that ? can say about ?t. Lots of palaces and such and a lot of w?nd and water -- that about sums ?t up. St?ll, ?t was one of those exper?ences that translate ?nto flashbacks that pop up at the most unexpected t?mes.

We have been, of course, see?ng the usual s?ghts around town. All the places where, as H puts ?t, var?ous "ser?al k?llers" made the?r mark on h?story. H ?s very good at po?nt?ng out var?ous ru?ned walls and know?ng who bu?lt them. Th?s ?s a talent of h?s wh?ch ? do not share but probably one of us ?s enough. Yesterday, we took a rattle-trap commuter tra?n that rounded the coast of the M?ramar Sea for many m?les. We prov?ded cons?derable enterta?nment for the locals unt?l the end of the l?ne and then we rattled our way back aga?n. The whole exper?ence cost us about a dollar.

Later, we crossed the Golden Horn to Kadakoy to have d?nner (lamb dona?r but th?s ?s not what we call a dona?r ?n Canada wh?ch ?s meat wrapped ?n a p?ta bread) at the ferry docks. Great v?ew of the harbour.
The d?nner was lamb roasted on a sp?t w?th bread and salad. Very good for 3.5 YTL (new Turk?sh l?ra) wh?ch ?s 3,000,000 (yes, m?ll?on) old Turk?sh l?ra or about 3 dollars Canad?an. Can you tell that ? can't f?nd the dollar s?gn? E?ther ?t doesn't ex?st on th?s s?lly keyboard or else ?t ?s very successfully h?d?ng.

On the Bosphoros ferry, H met a h?story professor from Br?ta?n who ?ntroduced h?m to many th?ngs Turk?sh. One of them was the Rustman Pasha Mosque wh?ch ?s a small vers?on of the Blue Mosque and utterly beaut?ful. We met the mulla who was a very n?ce guy and ? bought a lovely wh?te wool head scarf from an old lady ?n the market. She tr?ed to tell me (I f?gured th?s out later) that there were scarves on loan at the mosque) but I was glad to have ?t because Istanbul ?s ch?lly, w?ndy and cold (around 18 to 20 degrees). Hey! ?n search?ng for the degree d?ddly, I found the dollar s?gn and here ?t ?s - $$$$

There are so many ?nterest?ng keys on th?s computer that ? want to share w?th you. Here are some: ??? ??? - ??? - ???? - and there are no doubt others. Somewhere along the way, ? must have h?t the double space key. Yes. T?me to qu?t.
Thanks to Janet and to Shelley for f?nd?ng us the address to the Turk?sh NSA. We w?ll try to "knock them up" (as they say ?n England) ?n the com?ng days.

Boating on the Bosphoros
Today we went boating on the Bosphoros but Y am too tired to know if Y'm spellyng it correctly. First, a nap.

Must tell you -- we met a very nice cat on the hill overlookyng the Black Sea (Europe on one syde and Asia on the other). We fed him fysh and cheese and he was very pleased to meet us, too, or so he said. There are stray cats and dogs all over the place but they don't seem to be cruelly treated.

Now, that nap...

Testyng Testing
That!s better.