The Errant Particle

Things I learned to do before I was Thirty

2010-05-12T14:45:00.000+02:00

I have recently turned the big 30. Here is a list of things I find fun, funny, or at the very least interesting I have learned since my baby hood.

To shoot a bow and arrow
Make bread
Speak in public
Organize a field trip
Speak other languages
Ride a horse
play backgammon
build websites
Drive a stick shift car
Play guitar and piano
Write an epic poem
Cook Mexican food
To overcome fears
Write a book
Live in another country
Travel efficiently
Enjoy the little things
To kiss
To Dance
To not watch television

What did you learn before you turned 30?

Italian Christmas

2010-03-22T05:46:00.000+01:00

Some of our friends here in Barcelona have had the good sense to date Italian men with a penchant for cooking. They graciously invited us to come and spend Christmas with them. It was a two day event in which we went shopping in the open air market and subsequently cooked all of the food. Here is a picture of Sergio, the head cook holding triumphantly his octopus.

We cooked, chopped, fried, basted, salted and sauteed all day. By the time dinner actually rolled around we were all very hungry. Rana and I made 4 liters of sangria which was devoured and the rest of the group brought wine. The first course that came out was a cold vegetable salad.

As we ate that, the fish went into a deep bed of salt. It was completely surround by salt in fact. On top was a little shrimp. We also had a salmon, creme pasta with caviar and a number of other delicacies. It was a lot of fun. Here are some happy customers.

Then as the evening grew later silly began to kick in.

And we ended the evening with a tried and true christmas tradition, the group picture.

Well that's it for the Italian Christmas. It was great fun, and no one needed to eat again for a week!

Barcelona Mugging Failure

2010-03-09T21:43:00.000+01:00

So there I was in the middle of Barcelona, slightly inebriated, lost and for lack of a better term, proper fucked. Rana was going out with her friends and decided Devo had had too much to drink to make it to the club. Rana, of course, was right. I stumbled into the subway letting every thief from here to London know I was prime pray with my can't-quite-stand-still gait. I found refuge on the hard plastic seat of the underground and with head in hands, stole occasional upward glances at the lit up little subway map.

Now in a sober moment I would have known that I could transfer in one of the stations and easily make my way to the metro stop right by our house, thus avoiding further danger and exposing my incapacitated form to chicanery. Not the decision I made. So incapacitated was I, that all I could think about was the stop where we boarded the train, a full 15 minute walk from our normal stop.

Emerging from the stuffy relative safety of the subway station, I stupidly trudged onward through the main pickpocket hotbed in town. 3 in the morning was fast approaching and with it went the bussel of tourists and foreign students. The streets were quieter, populated with locals and immigrants. As I neared the street down which I was supposed to walk, a shout rang out in the cool air.

I still have no idea what he said but a moment later I felt a hand on my back. The hand I would later surmise was designed to distract me while the assailant tried to hook my ankle with his foot. What happened next defies logic but what the hell, I'll tell you anyway. I saw or felt the foot coming around my ankle and just kind of powered through it. Instinctively I stiff armed my attacker in the chest at the same time. The combine trip-reversal and the butt of my hand in his chest sent the man reeling backward as I yelled drunkenly, "No me tocas!" which translates to "who's laughing now, bitch?".

I never looked back.

Ten minutes later I arrived at the apartment and managed to get into bed. Meanwhile Rana and her friend had made it to the club and discovered they were charging and exorbitant cover fee. No dice, said the value conscious maidens and made for home where they would presumably be let in by a red-nosed jolly Devo. Not so.

Due to a bit of unfortunateness, our friend who was staying with at us had her bag stolen with our house keys in it the day before so we only had one set of keys, which I alone possessed because I was going home first. They began ringing the buzzer, which in my defense is über quiet, at around 5am. At 5:30 our kind Russian neighbors, who we had only met the day before, heard our buzzer, went out on the balcony, and thankfully let Rana and Basak in. Once they got to our door they were able to wake me up with a clever pounding/ ringing the doorbell ritual they'd worked out. Apparently I answered by buzzing them in the front door, which of course they already were in.

Morals?

Drink moderately, employ the stiffarm, and always have a spare set of keys.

The Impromtu Thief

2010-02-07T07:45:00.001+01:00

Tonight as we lay enjoying some sort of ill-begotten tv show or movie, we heard outside in the alley a tumultuous, clang, clang, clang. I sprang the the bed to see what was the matter. There was a dude in the alley who rose such a clatter.

There, standing in front of the gate of next door's shoe shop was a villain. Ok, not a villan but at least a petty thief, one who was apparently not terribly gifted when it came to planning. He had removed the cover of an electrical access panel in the alleyway and was using it to bash at the hardened steel lock which kept closed the gates in front of the shoe shop.

I stepped out on the balcony and saw him bring the awkward metal square down on the lock one last time sending metal shards and glass flying, but the lock held. Disappointed he replaced the cover and quickly walked away disappearing down an alley. Now when I say he was bad at planning, I meant it.

The would-be-thief was wearing bright white pants! Not exactly inconspicuous. I called the girls out on the balcony to see the aftermath of his attack. Just as we were heading back in, he appeared again. This time, presumably, to finish the job. I had my camera but decided since we are on the first floor and in the dead of night, the clicking of the shutter might give me away. Lets be honest, trying to do the right thing is great but if the thug discovered me he would know where I lived. So we, heroically, ducked inside.

The really funny thing is that he was trying to break into Rana's favorite shoe store. They very store where they have a expensive set of boots she wants. She was temped to yell, "steal me the green ones and we won't call the police," but I convinced her otherwise.

Once again, planning, buddy. What are you gonna do steal 100 pairs of shoes and try to hock them on the corner? I think it might arouse a little suspicion when you're caught with Manolos that aren't your size.

First Night in Barcelona and subsequent days

2010-01-10T14:03:00.000+01:00

I arrived after a considerably long trip (41 hours), in Barcelona, on Halloween eve. I took the metro and met the lovely Rana and Başak. They took me back to their apartment and we immediately started to brainstorm costumes. This is what we came up with:

Van Dyke and Foo Man Choo went out with Monsieur Devo (french mustache not here pictured) We had a wonderful time trying to remember how to order in spanish all the while sporting sweet mustaches. Rana and Başak had class so I spent the next few days just exploring.

I checked out La Rambla where you can get

your bag stolen for half the price of a normal mugging.

The shoreline where you can take an expensive gondola

over the harbor so you just might find Nemo.

Along the Rambla del Mar. Ohhh pretty boats.

People feeding Seagulls near the Christoper Columbus monument.

My arty shot of the day. A local resturant

with the menu in Catalan.

So far I love it here. The people are wonderful. The food is fantastic (althought I make most of it at home) and the atmosphere is one of life, art and excitement. I would love to stay indefinitely.

The Gorge Reserve

2010-01-10T13:45:00.000+01:00

After a whirlwind first 2 weeks in Australia, life slowed to a more manageable level. We ate, we sang, we drank copious amounts of mediocre beer. One weekend Tyler suggested we go visit some wildlife, and so we did.

The Gorge wildlife Reserve is where all Australian animals go to retire. It was a peaceful open zoo set up in the middle of the beautiful Adelaide hills. First thing was first, we went to hold a koala. Wee what fun. It was like having a really furry, stoned little child for 10 seconds. Here Tyler holds the little tyke who couldn't be happier. And here's me (notice the koala is unchanged):

After that earthshattering koala-holding moment we decided to browse around at the local fauna.

The redish game cock of Northern Checkistan:

The Pygmy Marmoset of somewhere interesting.

Here Pelican!

The koala on his day off.

Blue penguins of outer Mongolia

Steve and Earl

The biggest bats I have ever seen.

They are crazy...like a fox.

Prehistoric Cassowary. Dangerous and sweet looking.

A white peacock in flight.

Mom with Roo in pouch. Father looking on in the

background.

A crane.

Dingos. Cage strewn with babies.

Well that's about it for Australia. Tyler and I had a wonderful time in the rest of it but really none of it is fit for the internet. I loved the people, the animals and being so very far away from everything. I did not love the beer or the extreme price of alcohol but what do you do? It was a badass adventure on the sandy island in the southern hemisphere. Thanks Australia. On to Barcelona.

Alice Springs and Ayres Rock: Hot, Dry, Fun

2009-12-09T13:16:00.085+01:00

With only week under our collective belt together Tyler and I headed off to Alice Springs to carve some notches into that belt. At the crack of 9am we went to catch a bus to the airport which somehow, even though we were early for it, we missed. What we didn't miss was the best cab driver ever, who picked us up. On the 20 minute drive to the airport he regaled us with information about the moons of Neptune made of liquid methane, pronounced by our cunning chauffeur, Mee-thane with and emphasis on the Mee.

After about an hour in the plane we touched down in the land of the dry ass desert. The internet gods had told us about a lovely hostel just over the Todd River (pictured above) in the middle of Alice Springs. We made our way there and subsequently to the pool were we med the lovely Inga. Tyler correct me if I'm wrong.

She decided to accompany us to the look out over Alice Springs. We'd heard the sunset was glorious and it did not dissapoint.

As the sun fell over the hills we knew that we had to get back as we had an early morning ahead of us. Of cousrse we went to the local watering hole before sleep set in. It was called Bojangles. Here's a giant bear trap.

The next morning started too early for everyone involved. The bus must have picked us up around 5 am or something. I don't remember, everything before noon is really too early. We drove for about 4 hours listening to the light crooning of our aged Australian be-mustached guide nicknamed, Tic.

When we arrived at the rock he gave us the obligatory 10 minute diatribe on how 42 people have died on the rock and that we might be 43 if we climbed it. Being of the adventurous ilk Tyler and I decided to climb it, at least part way.

We scrambled up a good 60 feet of increasingly sloping red limestone until we got to the aid chain. The chain was sadly only about 2 and a half feet off of the ground so it provided little support for our accent.
Below is the first picture I took from the rock. Off in the distance is another rock formation called the Olgas. Note the desert.

Here's a picture of Tyler descending employing the almost useless chain.

When we came down, unscathed, Tyler and I decided to explore the base which yielded some cool pictures. Here is a good one showing the desolation of the landscape.

Tic took us around the rock explaining the various Aboriginal religious beliefs about the amazingly formed Rock. They call it Ularu which has become the official name in recent years but most Australian in the city still call it Ayers Rock. As with all great adventures we ended this one with champagne. As the sun set over the Australian desert we sipped unmarked bottles with about 50 of our closest friends.

This is what happens when you hand your camera to a tourist. And here be the beast herself, respendant in her earthy rocky late afternoon glory.

The rock changed colors many times before we left but I like this one the most. As fast or faster than we'd come we were cajoled back into the bus for the long ride home. Our beds were kind that night.

Glenelg: Sounds like coughing something up.

2009-11-30T23:07:00.001+01:00

In the first week I met a delightful couple, Rudy and Chantel. We went to a barbacue at their house and had a few beers. I got to experience a real Australian Barbie! However I was sadly disapointed to hear that not only were there no shrimp to throw on, but Australians exclusively call them "prawns."Who knew? We had a wonderful time and somewhere in the middle of the party someone decided it was a great idea to play ne'erdowells, to hop the neighbor's fence and pick some olives from their tree. We ended up ripping a branch off the tree! Whoops.

I only found out later that the house was abandoned and we risked little other than skinning our knees on the fence, but the thrill was nice at the time.

Adelaide quickly became too small a place to confine the likes of Tyler and me. The first weekend we headed for a local sea town called Glenelg. It was nice there. We saw adorable little children playing on the beach like this one pictured here.

Tyler took a moment to play fashion model on the dock.

He guided me with his sheer animal power. The man was really a natural in front of the camera. Here we are together, me wearing the worst sun glasses known to modern man.

The local fishermen were out in force and I caught a shot of this one's crazy bicycle. I like how it turned out.

It was a sleepy little beach town. So much so, that they even had their own metal detector guy combing the beach for lost Dubloons. This was a recovery day so there's not a lot of action in it. Sorry I know my joof is know for swashbucking action!

Till next time.

Blue Mountians are not so to a colorblind man, and Adelaide First Impressions

2009-11-24T17:46:00.001+01:00

The next day we went on a trip to the blue mountains, ate lots of food and finally Tyler flew to Adelaide. Here are the mountains...

Here are some local tigers.

And I know we agreed not to talk about it but here is Tyler getting taken advantage of by a Koala. You have got to watch those little buggers, they're incorrigible. Due to a silly mishap my flight was changed to the day after and I was forced to spend one more night at Jill's.

When I arrived in Adelaide it was dry and cold. A strange combo but there you go. I was drinking water like I was in the desert. I later would be.The first few days were recovery from travel and drinking so I spent a lot of time indoors. That however was acceptable considering that it was raining and cloudy. This was the weather I had expected in Seattle not Australia but you can't really order that, the weather I mean.

On the second or third day (things are fuzzy) I took a walk around the park near Tyler's ridiculously large top floor penthouse suite. You think I'm kidding but it was all of those things. Anyway more on that later back to the park. I stalked some wild animals and came up with these pictures.

I found a wild parrot:
Not as difficult as it sounds owing to their loud mating rituals.

I wish this was a Red Headed Boobie or a Nut Hatch
cause I like saying those names, but I think it's an Australian Pigeon (opening for the Sex Pistols).
This is probably not a gum tree which explains why I found
no Kookaburra in it.
Ok I'm a photographer-ish so I am allowed one kind of arty shot, right?
I took this while wearing a beret and
smoking out of a thin black cigarette holder. Incidentally this is the backside of the old fruit and vegetable market in town that has been gentrified into upscale shops.
Ah the simplicity of a bench. Shinning with sit-able warmth there in the middle of the park.

So that's about it for my Adelaide first impression. That night we went to a party with some "real" Aussies which I will talk about next time. Until then, be well.

Sydney Redux

2009-11-02T15:30:00.000+01:00

There I was sleepy and having a nice beer with my friends in the hostel when Tyler and Jill ripped my from my comfort zone and tossed me headlong into the minuscule yet ready ample arms of the back seat of a mini cooper. (and yes it was kind of an uncomfortable place).

We headed to a friend of Jill's house and drank Peroni until the sun came up. Actually we kicked it pretty early that night as we were all tired. The next night day we headed to the horse races. I've never been to a horse race in the US let alone one in another country. The tradition it appeared was one of the British ilk when it came to dress, Big hats (which we'll go into later) and fancy duds for the men. That is were the tradition stoped being British and became purely Australia.

Dresses in every color adorned the green in front of the race track, having a competition of their own as to who could be the shortest on the thighs. The hats the women were wearing were more of a "hat gesture" than a hat. Tiny top hats were precariously pinned to clumps of women's hair. Little red berets hung from bottle blond locks and even the occasional miniature cowboy hat waltzed by akimbo.

The men were decked out their sunday best with sun-glasses fake tans and wads of cash. One man came as a circa 19070s pimp.

As we entered the front gate there were dogs which I later found out were sniffing for cocaine. It's a filthy habit for dogs but there you are. The doberman looked at me with those "gotta get my next fix" eyes and felt suddenly sorry for him.

<--Here is a picture of what happens when you take too much cocaine. Stay in school kids.

We weren't there 10 minutes before I surmised that really the only reason for about 90% of the people to be there was to get dressed up and DRINK HEAVILY.

Horse races are fast. Waiting for them to start and killing the in-between time, that's the trick. Enter our old friend "extremely overprice libation." As well as I can tell you just sit and drink and lose money and drink some more. Somewhere in there you get the vague idea there are some animals running around but no one has told you when or where.

After a long day of watching everyone around us get unstable we headed to a bar where I was obliged to pay $7 for 10oz of crappy Australia beer. Hey but the music was good. After a while I got bored and eventually fell asleep a bit in my chair. I was immediately thrown out of the bar. Tyler was thrown out minutes afterward for reading a book.

Right before I left I managed to take one picture. Funny but not every Australia I would meet would be the svelte surfer you might imagine.

The next day would start late.

Sydney was a lovely mistress

2009-10-19T08:53:00.000+02:00

After about a day of solid travel 2 books later and a number of cups of tea I arrived in Sydney airport. I took the very convenient train right into the city and headed directly for my hostel stereotypically located in close proximity to the beach. Bondi Beach to be exact. On the bus ride in two other backpackers who would become known to me later as Dustin and Justin, approached me on the bus. It turned out that they had met in the airport, were both Canadian and almost (save a letter) shared a name. They ditched their hostel reservations and decided to throw in their lot with me as I had a place right by the beach! We ended up staying in the same room and spent the next few days together.

The hostel was lots of fun. YHA Bondi Beach was the name if I recall and they just had a lovely set up. It was 9 am when we got there so we ditched our bags in the room and headed for the ocean and in search of food. No we weren't going to catch it. We just knew that's where the restaurants be!

It was cold but it wasn't that cold in the ocean. I mean here I was, in the ocean, in September. Bad ass. We swam around in the strangely rough waters for a while and decided to get some food. I don't know what we ate but it was good. We grabbed a few bottles of wine and headed back to the hostel where we drank them. Hung over and in a daze the next morning we woke to find that the whole of Sydeny was covered in Red Fog. Apparently it had never happened there before. We all thought it was normal.

The next few days fell into place with a similar sort of reckless abandon. We toured around the city, saw the opera house, checked out the big bridge and all tried our hand, with epic non-success, at surfing.

The nights in the hostel were a lot of fun. You couldn't throw a rock in any direction without hitting a Canadian. They were like geese during migration season. I've heard Canada is not the most hospitable during winter, hence the Exodus to Oz.

<-These are actual Canadians in the wild.

However the highlight of my hostel stay was definitely our two other roommates. Derek and Rob were two Irishmen that had been living in the hostel for about a month before we got there. They were hilarious. Rob told stories like he'd been doing it professionally since he was young. Wild embellishment frosted over with a thick Dublin accent makes a tasty auditory cake. Derek was absent minded but funny as well. For the last two days we simply drank together and told stories. We drank more beer between the 5 of us than I thought possible for 10 men to drink. Secret Weapon? Irishmen.

After staying in the hostel for 3 lovely nights there was an ever-so light rapping at my door around 9pm on that Friday. There standing in the hallway were my friends. Tyler my old friend from Seattle who I had come to visit and my new friend Jill who I had yet to have the pleasure of meeting.

I waved goodbye to my international buddies and began a raucous and unexpectedly crazy weekend involving a wholly different side of Sydney.

P.S. It involves the backseat of a mini cooper.

Cambridge Reprise Second Coming

2009-10-14T06:53:00.000+02:00

On a sunny pre-dawn September morning Rana and I left the warm bosom of Seattle and headed for the airport. After a day of travel and a layover at the most depressing airport I've even visited, Atlanta International, we arrived in London. Weighted down with a considerable amount of baggage we took refuge in a coffee shop to kill some time until our train to Cambridge.

We watched the local fauna with their ridiculously skinny legs. What is it about London ladies that allows them to uniformly have such skinny walkers? The prancing entertained us for a while at Covent Garden while we ate our Cornish pasties, the real reason for our stop. If you've never had a Cornish pastie, well let's say you've been missing a culinary delight.

We took the next train to Cambridge and go there about 7 at night. We met up with Emeric, my French friend, his lovely girlfriend Emilie, and Emeric's American Aunt, Jane. Rana and I were beat so we headed to bed a few hours later.

The next few days we explored Cambridge together. We go to see the lab where Emilie is doing her post doc reseach. Freaking sweet, except her research is all done with fruit flies so you can imagine there was an unsettling creeping feeling as you left the lab. "Did I bring any with me? Ahh they're in my shirt," but they weren't.

We went to the Cambridge Film festival and saw a movie about a zombie infestation caused B by infected words. Apparently it postulated that the English language itself was infected... preposterous...brains...need brains. Sorry lost track. The only way to fight it was to speak French. I had now divined why our friends had selected this movie...

On the final day I said goodbye to Rana as she headed for Istanbul and I headed for Australia. I was indeed sad as I would not see her again for at least a month. I had a later flight so I stuck around and Emeric Emilie and I headed over to the famous "Chariots of Fire" Race. They played the music and everything. Wow, and with that England became a thing of the past for me as I headed to the land of Roos and cuddly Koalas.

(Pictures coming. I have had some slight computer problems since I arrived.)

Devo out

The Omnivore's Dilemma

2009-09-10T19:07:00.000+02:00

This is a book you should read. Without being overly preachy this fine chunk of informative literature throws into sharp relief that which we need to know about what we eat.

My favorite character is Angelo Garro. Angelo shows us how far we are from the production of our own food by being something most people aren't, a self producing forager.

"I have the passions of foraging, passion of hunting, opera, my work. I have the passion of cooking, pickling, curing salamis, sausage, making wine in the fall. This is my life. I do this with my friends. It's to my heart."

This quotation grabbed me. I want to feel like that, too. I want to feel connected to the tradition of food in a way I'm not. Yes I cook and bake a lot but not with ingredients about whose pedigree I know much.

Read the book and allow yourself to get the message. Your body will thank you.

Festive Romp in Capitol Hill

2009-05-19T23:08:00.001+02:00

There are mascots and there are icons. Pictured below is the latter my friends! 7 feet of pure unadulterated pink foam rubber waving at you certianly turns your head. Some friends and I were walking around Capitol hill on Sunday as we happened upon this prominent penis. At first we thought he might be selling Oscar Myer but soon realized that his aims were something far more pointed.

It is quite jarring to have something like this simply thrust into your day but as we looked on in wonderment we began to penetrate the real meaning of the display. Everyone there was encouraged to make friends with him, handle him. One lady even gave him a little kiss. Hey, Disney had Mickey, Nintendo had Mario why can't Gay City have, Captain Penis or the Erect Defender, or Super Dick? (pick one). Needless to say this made our day and we rode those happy thoughts all the way home.

Once home I felt the need to dig deeper into the penis mystery and so emerged: Healthy Penis. Healthy Penis was created in an effort to educate people about syphilis in San Francisco. Somehow he had managed to undulate his way up to Seattle to delight us and many others. Healthy Penis's growing fame is shown here in a very serious daily show article.

A direction hath been unfurled before me

2009-05-03T08:59:00.000+02:00

So you wonder where I've been? I've been plotting. Ever since I arrived back in the US I have had very few "travel adventures" to impart so I have been thinking of the best direction in which to take my blog. I think I may have found it.

I believe it will be:

A bunch of design, a bit of tech, and whatever humorous factoids might pop into my mind.

Today I thought I'd start it with: Things that strike me a silly. 10 of them to be exact.

1) White kids from the burbs who used the word "son" for emphasis.

2) Someone telling me a movie is awesome based solely on its special effects. (Exception Eric H.)

3) Expensive fruit.

4) That Velveeta is called a "Cheese product."

5) Signs that tell me to read them.

6) There is no 6.

7) Bad news on a good day.

8) People not eating pork because they think they'll get swine flu.

9) Chicken-Fried Steak.

10) Partially Hydrogenated intentions.

The Best Job in the World goes to someone else...

2009-03-08T02:24:00.000+01:00

You know it is obvious that Australia doesn't know talent when they see. That said I have not been selected to go. A sad day. They wanted someone a tad less funny and a lot more Marine Biologisty. In the words of Sigmund Freud, Whatev?!

Their loss.

Anyway thank you all who voted.

Devon

The Best Job in the World Part 2

2009-02-17T16:08:00.001+01:00

For those who have been waiting in rapt anticipation, It's finally here! It took days of planning, split second timing and an almost Herculean resistance to embarrassment, which I have. Rana gets an honorable mention for filming. Thank you.

My video is up and running on the islandreefjob.com website. Here is the link:
http://www.islandreefjob.com/applicants/watch/MXC9-uRn2vw

If for some reason you have trouble viewing it there I have also posted it below but please go to the website and vote for me.

What you won't find on the website are the outtakes which I have also included below. Enjoy.
Thanks,
Devon

Best Job In the World Final Application

Outtakes

Creative Spelling

2009-02-05T17:23:00.000+01:00

This little gem has been sitting in my save box for a while so I felt it time to unleash it. I have spent a little under a year here in this crazy country, called Turkey. Herein are some of the funny images and situations I've encountered. Please remember Turkish is a complex and fascinating language. It is as opposite to English as you can get really. Also depicted here are some examples where a direct or just plain horrendous translation made its way to the public.

Click the pics for a larger wiev. (you'll get it later.)

Lets start with a fun one...

I don't know if it's a brand or generally good advice.
Taken in Izmir.

Doggie and Furry style!
Taken in the Izmir Grand Bazaar.

For all of you Antiquers out there.
Taken in Cappadocia.

Turkish Viagra. This vendor claims (if you look closely) five times in one night! Make sure to properly hydrate.
Taken in Istanbul Egyptian Market.

Ayrian Flour? It's not just white, its Extra White.
Taken in Cyprus.

Just add "wich."
Taken at a restaurant in Bodrum.

I always wondered where the Uncool people hung out. Question answered.
Taken in Kadıköy, Istanbul.

Not something you want to see when you're on a dangerous Bus trip.
Taken in the bus station between Izmir and Bodrum.

Plase run spell check before printing a sign, Mr. Hotel manager.
Taken in a hotel in Çeşme.

Is it better when the Aircondation is working?
Taken in the same hotel in Çeşme.

I hope you can back that up.
Taken off of Istiklal street in Istanbul.

There's all kinds of wrong here. I don't know the Turkish design wizard who came up with this one but I'm amazed. I just don't know what a bloody hand print has to do with sport or women.
Taken at the Eminönü dock Istanbul.

Ok, so I've seen some ridiculous tattoos but this one is unique. "Coffee..!" What the hell does that even mean? This photo is enhanced by the presence of the 70s pornstar next to her.
Taken at the Efes One Love festival, Istanbul.

Where is she from? Don't go Russin' to conclusions. Taken in Cappadocia during one of our many forced "look at pottery" stops.

Um my favorite dish is "Steak Mexican Italian Chicken!" (May need to enlarge to see this one.) It´s a turkish seafood cafe late bar wine house as well.
Taken in Kuşadası.

Yeah water sports!
Taken in Kuşadası.

It's Tobe started to look in the souvenirs shops here.
"Hey does anyone know how to write in English?"
"No!"
"Cool lets make a sign!"
Taken in Cappadocia.

Be careful folks there are rumors of fake Turkish food circulating throughout central Turkey.
Taken in Cappadocia.

Nothing like a solid marble dildo to brighten up your sex life.
Taken in Cappadocia.

Mediocre food since 1993!
Taken in Ortaköy, Istanbul.

Let me translate the Turkish for you, "Come join the Junior Pirates where you will learn to pillage, keelhaul scurvy dogs and grow a bitchin' mustache."
Taken in Sultanahmet know to Americans as the Blue Mosque.

"Ahh I've fallen and I'm poorly drawn!"
Taken in Efes (Ephesus).

Turns out this is my usual course of action in an emergency, go to the bar and preferably leave children out of it.
Taken in Kuşadası.

"NO not that one. The one with tassels!"

Taken at the Kadıköy Tuesday market.

You ever hear of someone with sunshine coming out of their ass. This guy's getting a rainbow enema that looks like it just made his day.

Taken in Boyner department store on Bagdat street Istanbul.

You don't say?

Taken in Cappadocia.

Ya get what you pay for.
Taken in Cappadocia, Turkey.

Nothing says refreshment like a rodent!
Vole Beer!
Taken on Istiklal Street Istanbul.

Mom posing by "Harem" which is dutifully translated here for us, "The Harem." I don't think I'd have ever figured that out.

Taken at Topkapı Sarayı Istanbul.

I had to save this epic blunder for last. "Wiev Point?" I mean come on here, I couldn't have misspelled it worse if I tried. For the kicker we have "Treasure" spelled with two "I"s. It's not even supposed to have one "I". Oh well, I guess it's no body's business but the Turks.

Thank you all for sharing my year aboard. Hope this finds you safe and with spell check.
Devo

Salvador made my day, Turkey didn't.

2009-01-29T19:10:00.000+01:00

Hello Joofers,

Disclaimer: My apologies to all Turks that I know and love but I was quite frustrated today. Of course these observations do not extend to all Turks.

As a little background info, my favorite artist for years has been Salvador Dali. It is in fact why I originally became interested in Spain.

Today Rana and I got up early and headed to the Salvador Dali Exhibit that has been on display in Istanbul for about a month now. Time and again we tried to go but something had impeded our trip each time. Today only heavy rain tried relentlessly to persuade us to turn back. We persevered and walked into the Museum at around 11 am.

We were searched thoroughly until the beepy machine didn't go beepy anymore. Apparently museum security is quite tight. As tight as Dali's mustache. We walked into the first room and saw about a hundred people crowding around little snipits of info pasted on the wall about Salvador. At the end of the very crowded area was a lovely photograph of him. Seen here. What a dashing fellow humm? As I took this photograph a woman bumped into to me. Why? because she was attempting to video tape the entirety of the gallery, every photo, every word. My "tacky" meter went off, and it just went downhill from there.

As Rana and I walked to the first room of paintings we became acutely aware that we were less important than all of the other people there. As we were admiring a lovely piece entitled, "Two Pieces of Bread Expressing the Sentiment of Love," shown here, we were shoved aside by a woman using one those obnoxious little cell phone talky wands that tell you information completely unrelated to the painting when you punch in the numbers. We gave her the evil eye but she seemed in no way perturbed that she had walked right in front of us. Apparently the talky wand had told her that museum etiquette was passe.

Ok Ok we thought, calm yourselves, it's just one lady I'm sure the other people here has some respect for art. Wrong again. We walked to another painting, one of my personal favorites (well now it is), The Grape Pickers: Bacchus's Chariot.As we were admiring it a man stepped in front of us and took a FLASH photograph of the painting. Now look I understand that the people don't feel the need to follow all of the rules. I've seen how they drive but for gods sake this is a rule I can't believe anyone who cares about art would break. (Therein lies the rub as they say) Flash photography causes great damage to paintings. It only takes a few times. ERRRR.

We then made our way into a small hallway that had a video playing at the far end. It was a previously unfinished animated short by Salvador Dali and Walt Disney, Cool! It was called Destino. It was by far the coolest thing I had ever seen by Disney. As we watched it, a Turkish woman videotaped the whole thing on her camera. Tacky alert at dangerous levels! If you want check Destino out here. (Yes I do realize the irony of posting a camcorder version of the video but go with it)

We then went to the sketch area which really turned out to be our favorite because it contained most of the work we had not seen before. Rana and I exchanged pained glances as a girl barged her way in front of us and proceeded to take a picture of each and every one but never stopped long enough to look at one. I guess she was saving them for later. Here are a few of our favorites, taken without flash.

I particularly like the dresses! So swoopy and angular respectively. We also looked at a bunch of pieces he did for New York magazines and Newspapers during is 8 years in the US. My favorite was this high society piece for The American Weekly. Dead and drunk aristocrats enjoy a field of burning giraffes. How cool would it have been to see Dali's work in your local newspaper? Right after I took this a woman who had decided to take a video of all of the newspaper clippings backed right into Rana. I gave her an "Excuse me!" in Turkish but just as the others, she did not acknowledge that she had done anything wrong.

As we approached the water color section a elementary school class entered the exhibit with their teachers. They quickly raised the volume level about ten times and proceeded to smash kick and push eachout around each painting only to take a quick picture with they cell phones (yes they had them) and push and fight to get to the next painting.

All the while the "guards" stood by.

I found this amazing booty playfully painted by a master over 50 years prior. I loved it in the rising din. We envisioned her luxurious posterior as a kind of port in the storm of uncouth museum goers. We stayed a little while longer but we'd kind of had it at this point.

On our way out we got in line to get our coats from the check. A line as clear as day mind you. This woman walked in front of all of us and gave the valet her ticket. She and her two umbrellas were apparently more important than the 12 people in line.

THIS shit happens all the time and I'm tired of it.

We finally made it out feeling relieved to exit an exhibit of my favorite artist. There's something wrong with that. Rana remarked later how she wasn't sure if we were in a museum or at a football match.

Look I'm the last person to be culturally insensitive but WTF Turks? I thought museum culture was UNIVERSAL. I felt as if no one in there had ever before been to a museum. Art isn't an amusement park or local celebrity, it is beauty. It seemed that someone had put all this time and resource into bring a famous exhibition to Istanbul but the patrons did not have the cultural awareness, sensitivity or courtesy to appreciate it.

...

Out side men who peacefully fished in the Bosporus were probably oblivious to the very existence of Salvador Dali. Indeed a great portion of the people in the museum seemed to suffer from the same oblivity.

The Best Job in the World Part 1

2009-01-24T14:13:00.000+01:00

It has come to my attention that I have 2 blog followers now! Whoo Hoo. This is a momentous occasion. In celebration I have decide to do something rash. Two days ago my amazing friend Laurel told me about the opportunity of a lifetime. A Job unlike any other that really fits me. The Best Job in the World. It requires traipsing along the sun drenched shores of Hamliton island, reporting on what I do find discover, and feeding the local wildlife.

Hey I know what you're saying... "Devon that sounds like hard work!" I know it does which is why I will make sure to rest each evening in the provided jaccuzi. I will prevail.

In order to enter I will be producing a 60 second spot for myself. The spot or will be funny, maybe sad, maybe it'll even blow your mind but know this you'll be changed once you've seen it.

I will post the Devon Best Job Spot on both this site and http://www.islandreefjob.com/

This is your opportunity to make history. Once my video is up, and it will be soon, I've ideas a'brewin' as we speak, you can help me make it to the promised land. I ask you this as you humble friend.

Your votes are much need and appreciated. Think of it as the opposite of Survivor, I'm trying to get voted, ONTO the island. Remember if I make it on, you'll have someone to visit in Australia! (Other than my friend Tyler, if you know him, who lives there).

You may be thinking, "why should I help him?" The answer simple.
I can make it.

I also welcome other submissions and will happily vote for your video if you choose to decide to enter.
Thank you for your time, more to come.
Devo Out.

Christmas is such a lovely time of year

2009-01-08T01:28:00.000+01:00

Christmas Day was beautiful!

I have recently received some flak for my lack of posts. Well excuse me but I have had a guest and even though I'm in Turkey, the holidays have been busy. Christmas Day Mike my friend from Seattle arrived. We had originally planned for him to be at our feast but his plane was delayed so we ate without him.

Ozgur and I went to the airport and picked him up. Mike was surprisingly with it for traveling for almost 24 hours. Kim made a snowman to be festive. The feast gave me a chance to test out my new camera. Conclusion: It works.

The next few days I spent with Mike, maneuvering around Istanbul, having coffee and showing him the sites. We met up with Rana's brother Derya and went to a rock bar and did some dancing at a bar called the Jolly Joker which actually brews it's own beer.

The next day Mike and I did some sight seeing! Well we walked around in the pouring rain but he got to see the expedited version of Istanbul and we had good time.

After a subdued new years party we welcomed the year with a lazy day of driving around Istanbul. It was wonderful. We visited Boagzci University.

The last few days of Mikes visit were spent taking it easy and eating a lot. And then as quickly as he had come he was gone. Seeing a face from Seattle really reminded me of how much I miss it there. Ok all love and kisses. Hope you are well.

That really hurt!

2008-12-15T02:47:00.000+01:00

Who throws a shoe? Honestly? You fight like a woman.

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Finally some brave Iraqi did what we have all wanted to do for some time.
I guess we did that this in November but who's counting?

A Turkey in Turkey

2008-12-09T23:26:00.000+01:00

Yeah you guessed it.
I know it's a bit late but this is the first of my holiday posts from outside the US :( so it took a while. It has been quite a while since I have been out of the US for Thanksgiving, in fact I may never have missed one with the family. This year the comical situation was not wasted on me. A Turkey in Turkey was I.

Rana's friend Brian arrived on Thanksgiving proper and we showed him around the city. It was a kick to have another American around. We decided to have a bit o ye olde feast at our house the next day so that working folk could come. On Friday I got up at around 9 and started cooking. I made stuffing and and prepared dough for my mother's famous parkerhouse rolls. Butter was my friend.

Rana showed Brian around the city while I slaved away. We had really hard time actually locating a turkey, the IRONY! The night before Özgür, Rana Cousin, saved the day by finding one. It was about 12 lbs and when I asked my mom about cooking instructions for such a beast she replied, "Well I've never made one that small before." Ha! I was lucky to get one at all.

So undaunted I went it alone. Funny thing is in Turkey they don't mess around. You know when you get a frozen turkey in the US all the bits are nicely packaged in side in a plastic bag. Not here. All they did was snip off the head. I had to wrestle with that bad boy for 10 minutes to cut off the neck. Thing was 8 inches long. When Rana got home she couldn't bear the site of the disembodied neck so Brian and I took care of it. I know the video is kinda dark but enjoy.

Finally we stuffed it and popped it in the oven. Then Kim and Ali arrived and the potato making commenced. There are few people funnier or more fun to cook with than my lovely girlfriend and Mrs. Kimberly Öztürk (That's the first time I called her that. You may remember a certain post at her wedding.)

Kim making the best mashed potatoes!!!

Anyway mashed potatoes flavored with Parmesan and garlic graced the tabled along with stuffing, the bird, we even made our own gravy. It was great. Much was drunk and we all seemed to have a wee of a time. Check out the happy faces below.

Me carving my first Bird!!!

The Whole Crew!

London!

2008-12-05T19:35:00.000+01:00

Hello all,
The Turkish authorities were after me so we had to leave the country and let the heat cool down. What better place to blend in with the crowd than Jolly olde England. I'm sure they're not still sore about the revolution or the tea party.

One of Rana's friends, Camille is living there so we were quite lucky to stay with her. We arrived there hungry and a little lost but full of hope! We took the Piccadilly line, which is funny by itself, from Heathrow towards Cockfosters!

We arrived and Camille and her lovely boyfriend Dafty greeted us at the door. The rest of the day was spent catching up and drinking coffee. The four of us took a nice walk around their local park. Funny how the sun went down at 4pm. I forgot how far north London was from Istanbul.

Then we headed to the Horniman at Hay's so we could say we'd been there. You just don't get bars named like this is Istanbul. Pictured here are Rana and Camille basking in its glory. After a long hiatus from good beer it was wonderful to have a pint again! Wee. Anyhoo the night digressed until Dafty and I were drinking cider...

This is what happens...
On the way home we saw some Christmas cheer. The next night we decided to walk around Covent Garden. It was spectacular and we ate yummy pasties which are England's on the go, buttery snack. Here are the lovely red lights at CG. Then we walked by St. Paul's Catherdal and popped inside for a look. Outside we ran into a bunch of animals. They looked like Mascots so Camille was excited to go pose with one. Pictured here. We found out later that they were a fetish club called London Furs that likes to dress up like this and do god knows what. I was thinking at that point that it had been a few hours since I last had drunk something. Luckily there was one of these. Which way is that shop again?

Finally we found our way home but not before we found the Muffin man, the muffin man, the one who lives on ... Well you probably can't tell but this is a picture of Drury Lane!
Anyway we enjoyed the final day there relaxing and watching british TV. We then hopped a flight back to Istanbul saddened to leave the land of yummy beer and comically named pubs. Thanks for the fun London and thanks Camille and Dafty.

An Open Letter to Ex-President Bush

2008-11-05T19:27:00.000+01:00

Mr. Bush (Get used to this)

With all the excitement of removing you from office many have forgotten you're still there. I haven't and I wanted to show you with this final letter. Please read on if you've not been distracted by something shiny.

We did it!
Well you didn't per se. You sat around and looked confused wondering why John McCain avoided being seen with you for the past year. I'm sure that you were pulling for your older protege. You probably thought he'd do a good job but as we know your judgment has never been sound. Fortunately, I guess we'll never know.

I wanted to let you know how much my faith has been renewed in my country. We have seen your direction. There's no way to sugar coat it, you've thrown us in the crapper. You started two wars, ignored our people when their homes were flooded, bankrupted our economy by spending billions on the aforementioned (that means "already talked about") wars we cannot win and did not capture the man you set out to. I did mean to tell you, it was Bin Laden not Hussien for whom you were looking. I don't know if I can express myself monosyllabicly enough for you to understand but--YOU FAILED.

Finally we can raise our heads up and say once again, "I am American and I am PROUD!" I have not felt that for a long time. 8 years to be exact.

Traveling abroad and currently living abroad I have had to defend myself time and again against the horrors you have wrought upon the world.

NO LONGER. Now we have a president, not a war monger, a man not a monster, a leader not a decider, someone of genuine intelligence not a propped up idiot-monkey-puppet, someone of principles not a partisan pander.

Did you in your lifetime think you would see a landslide victory like this?
349 electoral votes and almost 53% of the popular vote. This, EX-President Bush, THIS is what a mandate looks like. Not skirting by, by a measly 1 %.

I hope in the future you enjoy your time on your ranch while we try to clean up your crimes against the earth and the country you pretend to love.

I, along with the rest of the American people, have one thing to ask. We know you're only around for another 3 months. Please Please Please, DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING. Don't start any wars. Don't interrogate people illegally. Don't abuse prisoners of the wars you started. Don't even eat a taco without clearing it with the president elect. I know how much you like tacos but hang in there. Why not do something nice? You have three months. Why not protect some wildlife or plant a tree? Something to prove you have a soul.
Oh and please release Dick Cheney into the wilderness somewhere to die in peace. We know he's only held together with cybernetics and steroids.

I have said that if McCain won this election I would think twice about coming back to the the country of my birth. Well not anymore. I'm coming home America but this time to MY president.

MY president who promotes peace. MY president who graduated Magna Cum Laude. MY president who can speak in complete sentences. MY president who cares about MY country. MY president and I are taking back our country. Guess who's coming to dinner Mr. Bush and it ain't Sydney Portier!

If you made it this far I applaud you for this is much more than you ever read of the Constitution.

Devon Carroll

Republic Day in Turkey

2008-10-30T11:38:00.000+01:00

And we're back...
I write quickly as I have no idea when my blog will again be blocked, but for today we are live!

Today we'll be discussing Turkish 4th of July! So there we were hoping to go see our friend last night when out of the blue Turkish 4th of July fell on us like a cart fully of disgruntled chickens.

They closed roads leading everywhere in every direction. Immediately we were stranded. So when in Rome...but we weren't in Rome we were in Istanbul, we did our best to blend in but failed miserably. It's hard to look like you belong when you don't know the patriotic songs and such. I tried to sing along with the American national anthem, no dice. The streets were completely flooded with excited revelers. It was literally difficult to walk 10 feet without being whacked with a Turkish flag.

As with any holiday the occasion brought out the entrepreneur in everyone. There were almost more places to buy paraphernalia than there were people. It was like seething sea of red and commerce that lapped upon the sidewalks and culminated at the main park near our house.
As we walked every 500 meters there was a huge television screen blaring patriotic music. Unfortunately for us they had the volume turned up loud enough for those to hear who were actually around for the founding of the Republic (1923). Sadly there are only 3 patriotic songs so we had to listen to them ad nauseum as we walked. At one point everyone stopped to recite what seemed like a pledge of allegiance: shown below.
We waded through the crowds until we finally emerged at the park. There was a bus decorated with lights and banners. On top there was a man chanting patriotic rhetoric into a microphone. The crowd became as thick as 3-day-old oatmeal as they chanted along in a kind of call-and-answer style. We had think pretty thin to push through.

Finally we emerged into the park where the fireworks show began. There in the middle of the park not 20 feet from passers by they launched the fireworks. All that separated us from the launch site was a flimsy plastic police line. This would not happen in the US.

We watched, as you can see below, for a few minutes but the sound grew deafening so we headed (finally) back home.

One more cultural experience in the bank. Hope you all are well.

The Death of the Joof?

2008-10-26T09:55:00.000+01:00

"How can it be?" say I listlessly as I type to myself. Can this really be happening? Yes it is happening. So some of you may know that youtube.com is banned in Turkey. No one has a good explanation why but rest assured it does not work here. I have stood by using proxy sites to view youtube. I was annoyed yes but it didn't affect me directly.

Now here I sit typing to you through a proxy server. Yes that's right blogger.com joins the ranks of the censored many here in Turkey. "Justice" here comes swiftly with IP blocker written on it's lapel. Not 2 days after the decision are we blocked and censored. Here is the official notice: (Oh I can't upload it because I'm writing to you through a proxy...Damn)

Censorship of the internet is easy in Turkey because ONE COMPANY controls all access. Once the small Right Wing court located in the distant southwest corner of Turkey in a town called Diyarbakir, decides to ban something they can instantly with one phone call (or email assuming that it hasn't been banned as well).

Things are getting worse here. Once a secularized Republic, Turkey is quickly slipping into a dangerous oligarchy. As an American, I hold freedom of speech as one of man's most sacred rights. Apparently Turks don't share this sentiment. I don't need to mention (but I'm going to) the parallels with Iraq war propaganda in the US or the stifling of German media during WWII.

Now we get to the meat. This is religiously based. A GOVERNMENT ORDER IN THIS COUNTRY IS RELIGIOUSLY BASED. Now if you know anything about Turkey you know that it is unique in the world being a country that primarily practices Islam but does not allow it in Politics. Secular government. Religious public. That used to be the story. Not anymore.

"It is suspected that the reason for this has something to do with Adnan Oktar, by some considered the leading Muslim advocate for creationism, who has in the past managed to get Wordpress, Google Groups, as well as Richard Dawkins’ website."
-source http://advocacy.globalvoicesonline.org/2008/10/25/bloggercom-banned-in-turkey/

For more about Adnan Oktar
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Harun_Yahya

So this is the new state of affairs here in Turkey. Kinda crazy. So for now I will try to write what I can and hold on. I no longer will be able to add photographs or videos though I may find a way around this. Until then. It's been quite fun blogging with you all. Please let me know how you are.
D

Final Day in Sevilla, Granada and Madrid.

2008-10-13T16:09:00.000+02:00

Hello friends,

The night before we left we managed to do a little shopping at the Sevilla H&M. Where was this place last year? (this comment is for Pants-Off!)With heavy hearts we caught the bus to the Sevilla Train station. It was bitter sweet as it began to pour down rain at the very moment we were leaving. In a stroke of brilliance Rana and I did our damndest to miss our train. Just in time we hopped on and the doors closed behind us. From Sevilla we had a nice 3 hour ride. The trains are really the way to travel in Spain. It's first class baby. Spanish moms by the way are totally hip. Check out this one rockin' the Nintendo DS on the train ride. We arrived in Granada and I instantly felt at home. It has almost been 7 years since I studied there but it's a small town. No problem. We found our hostel in about 15 minutos though we had to ask a few locals. It was completely unmarked save for Arabic writing. Check it out. Colin you will like this in Arabic this Maktub. It was an amazing place. Right when we got there we met an amazing girl from Venezulea and a cool guy from Italy with whom we enjoyed some wine on the rooftop terrace. After that we decided to go down stairs and meet the other people and I litereally ran in an Indian girl coming out of her room. She was quickly followed by another Indian girl and an american man. We 5 became fast friends and we went with them to dinner. The girls were name Rupal and Nisha. Yep Rupal. The man was from Tacoma and his name was Jason. RuPaul for obvious reason went as "Boo." The girls were both born and raised in England but knew some Hindi so we decided to go to an Indian resturante. It was great fun and we got to know all about them. Then we went out dancing and jason taught us all the apple dance. I can't really explain it but well it's amazing.

So the next day we headed to the Alhambra, a Moorish fortress from the 1300s wow. The gardens inside and fountains were truly spectacular. We walked around all day until it started raining and we had to take refuge in beer and an umbrella. Here are some photos from the visit:Rana playing in the gardens...and the on the wall and again in the gardens... So there we are. We found a tiny little door that sent Rana looking for Narnia:Where is it Rana?

We had wonderful time and went back to meet our new friends Boo Nisha and Jason. That night we has some excellent Lebanese food and smoked a hooka full of cherry flavored tobacco. Yum taskic. We thought our new friendship deserved a group portrait so we took one... I'm sure you're dying to know so the photo from left to right kind-of goes like this Moi, Boo Nisha, Jason and Rana. Fun Times!

Sadly the next day we had to leave our new friends but Jason decided he would travel with us so only Boo and Nisha were left behind. We headed for Madrid on the train. WEEE!
When we got there Jason hung out for a few hours but had to catch the next train to Segovia where he was studying. We then headed to Rana's friend's house Maya. She was kind enough to put us up for the night. We went out and found a fencing mask. Like ya you do. Here it is. Early the next morning we headed with heavy hearts to the airport and before we knew it. We found ourselves back in Istanbul before we knew it.

Sevilla Week 2 Bullfight and Gypsies

2008-09-28T10:25:00.000+02:00

Rana's friends Tien and Annie came to visit the other day and we had a blast. We literally whisked them out of the train station and directly to a bull fight. Yeah a real bull fight. (You can see, just faintly, the excitement on Tien's face.) So Bullfights,you've only seen them on cartoons and such but this was the real deal. We watched 5 bulls go down and thought we had seen enough carnage for the day though there were more on the docket. It was an amazing cultural experience.

That night we ate at an amazing tapas bar called Casa Paco. Everything we ordered was fantastic. Honey baked goat cheese, bacon wrapped dates, tri tip in mustard sauce the list goes on. What was more was the waiter was really tall and really cool, his name was Jose. Annie took a bit of a fancy to him, as the English say.

The next night we went to the Carbonaria which is a free gritty flamenco show posing surreptitiously as a bar. It's very Gypsy and quite fun. The Carbonaria also features cheap drinks, first and foremost Agua de Sevilla which is like a long island iced tea with pineapple juice. We started with pitcher of that puppy. Only a few sips in and we started to loose it. The show was amazing, ok it was alright but the 4 pitchers of Sangria that followed were amazing. If you were wondering this is what three girls look like after 4 pitchers.
After the show, just as we were about to leave, a man sat down at the bar piano. He began to play Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder and some other Motown stuff. He had everyone singing along and taking requests for two hours. Annie was particularly helpful with her killer karaoke skills! Turns out Roderick (In Spanish he introduced himself as, Rodrigo!) was a VP of Urban development somewhere in the south (South USA), on town in Business. He spoke great Spanish and played the piano like a master.Crazy.

Tien and Annie left then to hang out with another friend in Cadiz which is further south on the beach. Rana and I spent the rest of the week exploring. We went to an amazing Flamenco show based on the life of Frida Kahlo.
This is just the theater pics weren't allowed inside. We checked out the Alameda de Hercules which had live music and fun almost every night. There are four columns (two at each end) that are identical. Atop each sits jolly old Hercules. This does make it a bit tough to find your way home in the night time when you don't know at what end you are. We also checked out these guys in doggy jail. These poor dogs lived right by us and always looked so sad. I wanted to bake them a doggy biscuit with a hacksaw inside so they could escape but I scrapped the idea when I was reminded of their almost total lack of opposable thumbs.

Finally before going to Barcelona Tien and Annie came back to visit us. We decided to go to the Plaza de Espana which is an impressive plaza shown below. Ok well that's about all I have for today. Hope you are all well!
Hugs Devo

Gettin´ Settled in Sevilla

2008-09-18T13:31:00.000+02:00

Hey here we are chilling in the South of Spain.
Make sure you get you shopping done before 2 or else you´ll have to wait until 6. Siessta is extremely long here and has made for some foodless afternoons but we´ve managed. Rana is getting settled in Dancing Flamenco every day.

The first night we got here we met our Home stay owner a man named Antonio or we thought that was his name. He introduced himself as Pollo, Spanish for Chicken. Hummm. Ok that´s his name we thought. He treated us to a nice dinner of Salad and fried zucchini or however you spell that. We then went out on the town to get some drinks while pollo stayed at home and smoked the gang. Did I mention he has dred locks. anyway he has been most helpful and a fun living companion. The second night Rana and I went to a flamenco performance and saw her friend play violin. He was amazing and we snuck back stage pretending to be his family after the show. We´re due to see him again this weekend.
We´ve been meeting a lot of amazing people here. A guitarist at Rana´s School worked on Pocahontas for Disney. He is a cool LA animator type. Also there are students and cool people from all over the world.
Ok well that´s all for today...they're closing the library on me again.
Love to you all.

Spain Glorious Spain

2008-09-16T13:24:00.000+02:00

Whew had it been a whole week already that we´ve been here? Rana and I have been hot footing it around Spain at an incredible pace. Last week we started in the Rioja Wine region where we visited one of my favorite wineries, Paternina. I loved it the lady there was so nice we bought 2 bottles of top quality wine for only a few euros. Thanks Europe for not overpricing wine.
Then we stayed at a nice super swank hostel. Totally decorated with Ikea furniture and full of angular modern appliances. Strange.
The next day we head through Bilbao. It was a pretty little city with a beautiful canal running through it and of course the wavey metallic beast of a the Guggenheim museum at it´s center. We ate some Spanish fast food and were back on the road again! This time our destination was Santander which is almost as north as you can go in Spain. It was quite beautiful there we met up with Rana´s friend Amador (which in Spainish means "the lover") and stayed with his family that night. We also participated in our first Botellon which is the fantastic Spanish tradition of getting a bunch of people in square and drinking lots of boose. Weee!
For the next few days we rocked across the northern coast, checking out beaches and enjoying the lush countryside. (sorry no pics I using a library computer here) Then we made our way down to Portugal until we stopped at university town called Coimbra. There we stayed at the coolest hostel. The guys running it were really cool. There were people from all over the world staying there. We barbecued late into the night and enjoyed their company. Then as we were winding down a guy came along named Wolfgang a loud Bavarian German. He was hilarious and regaled us with stories of mountain climbing and designing robots to help people ascend things.
The next day we headed to Lisbon where I accidentally parked the car on the trolley tracks and stop 8 trolley cars in two direction while we were looking for the hostel. Once I realised I was the problem I jumped in the car and sped away. The Portuguese simply yelled OLE! in excitement that the track was cleared. I thought I was a dead man.
At the Hostel we met some Spanish and Czech people and went out with them to a bar. There a very very drunk Portuguese lady started picking a fight with us and head butted the Czech girl. Really? What a weird night.
Then we headed to the south coast of spain to Tarifa! Tarifa is a surf town that resided on the southernmost tip of Spain. North to south in one week whew. We took a day trip over to Gibraltar and and had Glorious fish and chips for lunch! Then we climbed the famous rock in our flip flops. A mistake. At the top our feet really hurt and we thought we weren´t going to be able to get down so we headed over to the gondola that was ferrying people from the town below to the top. We snuck in the back way and took the gondala down with some turista. Yeah for the free ride. The next day in Tarifa we spent eating and watching the Feria, people riding horses around the city in traditional garb, women everywhere in flamenco dress,(damn I wish I could show you pictures.) That night we went to a concert on a football field of on of our favorite Spanish artists Chambao...Ok I have to get going they are closing the library...,more later from Sevilla.

Off to report on other climbs

2008-09-03T18:17:00.000+02:00

So I said I was going to post about yet another super duper Turkish Wedding. I think you're tired of that I think you need something fresh. So I've decided to go to Spain. I will be leaving today. I'm doing this for your benefit people so please pay attention.

More later.

Cypriot Love God

2008-08-25T13:15:00.000+02:00

The final day in Cyprus was in no way the least interesting. We woke up early because we were going on a boat trip! Weeee. I was like a little kid. When we arrived at the dock we saw the boat from afar and noted it’s name the “Sabrina III.” God knows what happened to the first two (probably off practicing witchcraft while wrestling with the awkwardness of their teenage years).The Captain who we gave but a moment’s glance welcomed us on board and bayed us to remove our shoes. We found a nice seat under the sun cover on the bow. In front of us sat a very white, very nice, very English family. One mother two kids Ian and Mike and her husband Kevin. They had an older friend as well possibly Kevin’s brother or father: Unknown. This unknown man was very funny, as were they all. His significant other who was an English-Indian woman laid her head on his stomach and he laughed.
“I got a good bit o fat there, I’m more comfortable than a pillow.” She adjusted herself and he continued, “I got my uses.”

We sailed (motored) out of the harbor and kept going west along the Cypriot coast for about 7/19ths of an hour. The Capitan then miraculously “found” a harbor and we weighed anchor. Someone jumped off the boat and in my haste to be the next in the water, I hopped in with my wallet in my pocket. No matter, I put it in the sun and laid my lira out like landry to dry. We all took turns jumping off the boat. I even did a few dives and flips to amuse the onlookers. Then lunch was served. It consisted of bulgur wheat, fried fish, bread, potatoes and beeeer.
Then some guys showed up on a jet ski, “Korsanlar!” I yelled using my limited Turkish to indicate that they were pirates. In a way there were. They came on board ate and the captain took their jet ski out for a spin. He did some tricks for us. Once again dinner and a show. Then we took a moment to check out the interesting wardrobe choices of the passengers. Check out this guys: Then it was time to go to the next “Hidden Cove.” We traveled for another 15 minutes and anchored at another harbor.

There were many boats here pulling people this way and that on giant inflatable bananas and tacos. Why is it that our inflatable toys are always food products? Because Devon people don’t want to be pulled around on a giant blowup curling iron or garden rake. Then the crew handed out floaty toys to all takers!
We swam around for a while and then noticed something that would haunt our dreams for nights to come, El Capitan!

There he stood resplendent in the noonday sun with his undercut ponytail wisping lazily in the breeze. His brown chest, now uncovered, was adorned with ridiculous tattoos. On his arm was a Puma “melting?” Fascinating. Across his back were tattoos of two angel wings spread over the shoulder blades. He wore a chinstrappy razor thin beard that opened into a goatee. Adorable. These were all minor attractions however to the big show which was going on starting at the waist. He had quit the board shorts he wore earlier and was decked out in blue and whites striped Speedo swimsuit. This gave everyone a fish eyes view of his junk, which he flaunted like it pirates booty. Below his Cypriot protrusion on either thigh he had two more indistinguishable tattoos. What these mystery-inked patterns were boggles the mind. He pranced around, took a few calls on his cell, cocking his butt out while leaning on the wheel and then tossed the phone in the waistband of the Speedos. Classic. I didn't get a pic of him but, he looked kinda like this:

After a while the Jet Ski pirates showed up again. Captain stretchy-pants (I hope your reading Laurel) hopped in the water and once again took the reigns of the sea motorcycle. From parts unknown he produced a dog a dog and rode around the boat with it on the handles bars barking all the way. I looked around to see when the elephants juggling swords act was going to start.
After a while the boat started home. I decided to strike up a conversation with the Brits. Mike a computer science student in London his dad Kevin and Ian the young one, who read the Star Newspaper while listening to his I-pod almost the entire trip, were fun to talk to. We got on the topic of our captain O Capitan our Capitan. They had the similar feelings about his little display. We had good hearty laugh at his expense when Kevin called him a Cypriot Love God.
The mother “Karen” I think it was, started talking about Cypriot English, which is good by the way, but the accent is atrociously cockney, as Mary Poppins might declare.
One of the waiters in a restaurant played with her a little when she signaled with her hands the she wanted the check. In perfect English he said, “Do you want eh check ma’am?” To this she replied, “Oh you’re a bit cheeky aren’t’ you?”
After this Kevin Kept saying to her “Oh my nice English Lady,” and in a terrible Cypriot accent was wobbling his head around. This brought more cries of laughter to our group.

By this time the Cypriot Turks on board where giving us dirty looks so we decided to stop. There were consequences though. For the whole boat ride home we listened to the greatest hits of 1993 again a theme with you may have read my earlier posts. Thanks Turkey for not moving one since then. Whitney Houston, Mariah Cary and the whole gang! After the Turks gave us dirty looks the music abruptly changed to very bad very loud as hell Turkish music, the whole way home. Needless to say I was all funned out by the end.

Tune in next week for ANOTHER TURKISH WEDDING…

Slingshot to Cyprus

2008-08-21T02:04:00.000+02:00

Hello all,
Tas been a few since my last post for I have been away on wee bit of a trip. Rana's cousin lives on a little island off of the south coast of Turkey so we felt compelled to go visit her. Also I needed to leave the country for a while (a misunderstanding between a rural goat farmer and myself) so we thought it was a good place to lie low.

Cyprus is an island chopped in half by conflict. The Northern half is Turkish and the lower half Greek. It is beyond the scope of this Joof to explain why as many important historians have been unsuccessful therein. The Ercan airport in North Cyprus doesn't exist for political reasons so we did NOT fly there on the 13th of August, according to Greece at least.

Rana's cousin Nihan and her boyfriend Sarang really made us feel at home in Magusa, a small town on the coast where they lived. We spent the first day sitting on various beaches and swimming in warm Crystal-Pepsi-clear water. The Mediterranean has never been more inviting and salty! Then we finished off the night with Iranian style (Sarang is Iranian) meatballs and salad. Ton't get much better than that!

On the second day we headed up to the Byzantine fortress that surrounded Magusa. It was quite well preserved. After that we took a trip to the far eastern side of the island to sit on another beach. It’s the closest I've ever been to Syria, so I thought I'd wave to the Syrians. The "Golden Beach" is a vacationing hot spot for Marine Biologists from all over the world. They come to study turtles. Dinner and a show, I thought. So we hopped in the waves letting the salty water keep us afloat, all the time scanning for signs of tiny turtles swim buddies. No such luck so we had to entertain ourselves. We ate some homemade sandwiches and watched the sun set and the moon come up on the water simultaneously. Fanfreakingtastic.

On the third day we decided to make pancakes and go to the beach in the logical order. After getting our fill of swimming again, we headed to the ancient ruins of Salamis. There we discovered the temple of Zeus, overrun by lizards not Gods. Also there was a fantastic amphitheater still in operation. Our host said that a few months prior they’d seen Pink Martini perform there. The ruins were vast and full of statues and mosaics. I was careful not to get to friendly with the statues like Pygmalion, I already have a beautiful lady!

Well that's it for today. I had to split the trip into two posts because the final day was so amazing. See you tomorrow.

Kim and Ali's Wedding

2008-08-07T11:43:00.000+02:00

After a rousing night of face paint fun, exfoliating creme I'm told. We started getting ready for the wedding.

It was a fun day for all except, which is often the case, the bride and groom. Kim and Ali were bustled this way and that to perform various rituals and tasks. First stop, the hair dresser. Everyone was getting there hair done...like it or not. There was choice of Ringlets or Ringlets. There girl next to Kim looked like she's having a wee of time...getting her RINGLETS. I'm no hair guru but I've been told there's more to hair than a hot iron and spring loaded curls. Here's Kim doing an impression of girls getting ringlets:
After some sweet glamor shots by Deb, at the local studio we all headed to the little bungalow by the beach to enjoy a traditional Turkish Wedding.

There we are getting ready in our room and the band strikes up an hour before the wedding is even supposed to start. There was sum suspicion as to whether or not they drunk and only got more so through the night. Here they are escorting the bride from the stockade...I mean "bungalow" to her wedding table. There Kim and Ali were forced for several hours to sit wave, dance, banter and pretty much do anything else you can think of BUT were not allow to eat or drink a thing.

Cruel an unusually punishment, I say. A wedding is a hard thing to handle in your native language, with alcohol. Without and in a foreign language, Kim you're a braver man than I. This from a guy who asks whether or not there will be alcohol at a wedding the moment I'm invited to one. "Oh no alcohol, pity. I've got to steam clean the lampshades that day. Oh yes, I've had it planed for months."
As the bride and groom sat and waited the DJ played some contemporary hits from his no-words, Karaoke collection. Whitney Houston's "I Will Always Love You," and Phil Collins, "Just Another Day in Paradise," were among the instrumental ballads we heard as we waited.

As the night drug on we did our best to sneak the poor couple a few drinks surreptitiously hidden in juice glasses, snifters, pie tins and a teddy bear. Then for our amusement Kim was made to dance, and surprised as they tried to light her dress on fire. Ahhh! Then the cake came out to a rousing Techno remix of the famous Mamas and the Papas Song "California Dreamin'". That part is not a joke, that happened.

After that the real fireworks began and I'm talking about that lounge singer lets-get-the-fireworks-started-between-this-happy-couple kinda fireworks. Real, honest to God explosions. It was quite a lot of fun. Then the lightning began and Rana was able to catch some on her camera. Check it out. The DJ had to put his equipment undercover so the music stopped for a bit. Did it stop the Turks from dancing, NO! They clapped in a circle and continued to dance well into the night.

Kim and Ali took a little rest from the action in the Wedding Loft that was provided near the bungalows. Rana and I had some drinks. Then they came back as many people were leaving and we caught some nice pics of them. It was really a great time. We talked with them late into the night and stumbled into bed unceremoniously. Thank god we had the next day to hang on the beach. Check out me in the background, the Buddha of rock tower building. The next morning we caught a flight from the brand spankin' new Sinop airport back to civilization. Whew! What a wonderful time. Congratulations Kim and Ali. We love you and really couldn't be any happier for you.

The Evil Bus Ride

2008-07-22T12:55:00.000+02:00

The rest of our time in Bodrum was relatively uneventful. It was full of wistful looks into each other's eyes, sweet nothings and lazy afternoons. But that's none of your damn business so you'll hear nothing further about it from me!

Alas our time in Bodrum went far too quickly and we were once again forced to head north. However we were only in Istanbul for about 8 hours before we headed out again for our friends Kim and Ali's wedding. Our friends decided to have their wedding in a small town on the Black Sea coast that no offense sounds like a cat hacking up a hairball, Ayancik. (almost as far from Bodrum as you can get without leaving the country.)

This is the chronicle of that voyage. It is not for the faint of heart and it is long but hopefully you will be rewarded with a laugh at our expense.

It is almost too much to take in at once. Small Turkish towns, loud children, and and uncomfortable bus make for quite the night. There are two ways to get to this quaint little berg, well three if you count in the bed of truck load of goats but Rana has an acute Carpine allergy so we had to stick to either Bus or plane. Pain of Pains the flight schedule was not in our favor and thus the bus was our only way. Probably crop dusting season or something and they couldn't spare the planes.
The next task was to find the Bus company, "online," which to them meant that they we're hooked up to the sewer system. After a good long search we called the number which we got by bribing a blind hobo. We got there early and found that the word "office," is bandied about rather liberally in Turkey. It was a stool and an adding machine. We bought our tickets and found the bus.
One either side of our bus were brand new Mercedes coaches, newly painted and gleaming in the setting sun. And then there was our bus...When this puppy was rolled off of the assembly line Led Zeppelin was huge, bell bottoms were in and neon orange was an acceptable color to wear in public. It is unfortunate that the latter thought was the only trend incorporated into this baby.
It looked like it had been designed by a crazy Bulgarian scientist with nothing more than a protractor whilst he was locked in a broom cupboard. The color scheme screamed as Rana put it "Sick baby Cheetah." The curtains were and eye burning gold and the seat covers looked like a zoo exploded. You can see a little bit in the picture below.

Reluctantly we handed our bags to the attendant who stowed them underneath and walked around front of the "bus." Rana looked at me and said, "Was that there just a minute ago?" I looked to where she pointed.
The windshield was spider cracked along it's whole length as if God himself had smote the bus for being so hideous.

The fairly empty bus rumbled to a start a few moments later and we were off. At the first stop we picked up, how can I say this in a nice way and still deliver my point? I can't. They were country bumpkins. One women who sat near us kept hitting the recline button on her seat accidentally with her leg and she would flop wildly backwards calling the attendant saying her seat was broken. This happened three times before she mastered the use of said button.

Normally in Turkey you get some nice refreshment and a small snack on your travel. Not our bus. At each stop streets vendors got on selling everything from stockings to fresh bread (What a perk?) I guess they felt this made up for it.

Oh I forgot the earlier fun...It turns out that if your kid can sit on your lap in Turkey, you don't have to pay for an extra seat. At the next stop our favorite bumpkins got on with two toddlers in tow. Guess who they sat behind? You guessed it. I didn't know we signed up for "family" bus, yeah! Rana was quite convinced that everyone on the bus were all part of the same family. They really were forgetting the first rule of genetics, spread the genes apart. Why not at least try your cousin in a different village? I just sayin' here.

The two small children were just as uncomfortable as us and they let us know for the 12 hours I'd like to soon forget. They sat on the laps of their extremely responsible parents. Unfortunately in Turkey when you buy the seat on a bus you don't own the back side of it, these two however owned us by kicking the seat backs the whole way.

Then there was the water boy. Normally they give you water as I have said before but on our bus the young boy would periodically raid the cold water supply. I think he was a little gypsy and was selling water to people in the back of the bus after he stole it. I was thirsty but my mother told me never to do business with Gypsies!
Then oh then the TV came on. Yes just one for the whole bus. They played a Turkish Soap Opera for hours and hours.

Oh this is some terrible programing. I think it was filmed by a guy named Steve with a tripod a second have video cam and a dream. The dream is to address the vital Turkish issues., like circumcision, fighting in the street, and falling in love instantly. The main character fell in love like 10 times in one episode. This was denoted by light guitar music and a slow pan toward his face. He looks pensive. Every time the same. Good job Steve. Those night school film courses sure paid off!

We stopped around midnight for a quick bite to eat and the bathroom. After about 5 hours on a bus most of the women (wearing head to toe robes and headscarves) were begining to reek. Rana detected the faint aroma of hot dogs. Neither of us wanted to know why. We jumped from the bus as if it were on fire. We decided to check out the little roadside shop and hit trip-from-hell gold! Check out the below photos of fake celebrity perfumes! Spell in English much?

Also in Turkey it is customary to give you a little perfumed sanitizer in your hands as you get back on a bus. We were foolish enough to accept. Brown liquid was dumped unceremoniously into our hands. I am surprised it didn't eat through. The aroma can only be described as a vivid combination of old lady perfume and grandpa cologne mixed tasteful with yak urine. We couldn't get the smell of for hours. Really, it sucked.

At last my tale of woe climbs to a close but what story would be complete without the arsenic icing on the cyanide cake? Just as how could this trip be complete without a little vomit? In the final hour of the trek the road traversed some windy hills near the coast of the Black Sea. The people behind us having thriftily saved some cash decided they'd give back a little something to all us. The windy road was too much for their little girl who was bouncing uncomfortably on her mother's bony knee.

It is impossible to describe the sinking sickening feeling that dashed our hearts as a tiny gurgling throw-up noise emanated from the seat behind us but I will try. You know that sensation you get when a drop of rain hits your shoulder and you slowly come to realize that there isn't a cloud in the sky? There is nothing, simply nothing, in this world that can get that droplet off of your shoulder fast enough to comfort you. This is the same frantic dance Rana and I did to check our shoulders and hair for baby puke. 5 minutes later the father, from what I thought was an unreasonably high height considering the contents of the bag, dropped a sac of toddler upchuck into the garbage right next to me. The smell was indescribable.
Ick!
Finally the ride was over and we saw the smiling tired faces of our beautiful bride and her groom. I have never in my life been happier to see two people. They drove us to a lovely sea side bungalow where we slept most of the day away falling asleep to lightly crashing waves.

Next instalment: The Wedding.

Travel to Bodrum

2008-07-19T17:24:00.000+02:00

The next day...

We began the morning in Cesme in the wonderful hotel but with a crappy breakfast.

The next 4 hours we spent on a bus that almost left without Rana save for my killer Turkish skills. Evidently I said that "my girlfriend is a toilet" instead of “my girlfriend is in the bathroom. Please don’t leave.” We found ourselves in Bodrum where Rana’s family has a wonderful little summerhouse. Unfortunately it was not well sealed. We cleaned and fought tiny arachnids all day until a relaxing dinner with her papa (who happend to be ın town). I was surprised by the spice of my penne alla arrabiata! Yum. Then home for wine on the deck…exit papa.

We Fell in love with sunsets all over again.

We woke the next morning to the beautiful mid morning sun and promptly feel back asleep. Later we made our way to the store and bought breakfast groceries and fresh bread. Fresh bread here is about 75 cents and it tastes amazing. Rana and I whipped up a yummy little breakfast though we didn’t have much in the way of spices. The rest of the day we spent swimming and drinking Gin and Tonics…It’s a tough life.

Sorry this is brief and pıctureless but the Turkish keyboard is all switched around and it makes is hard to type here.
Kisses (üpajüklar)

Çeşeme (pictures to be added later)

2008-07-19T17:21:00.000+02:00

Our Journey (come sail away?) took us to a small town out on the coast called Cesme. It was a quaint little berg right on the beach. Every hotel and hostel was book for the weekend but we had an ace in the hotel...er ...hole. Naz’s father has worked just about everywhere in turkey and knows just about everyone. With one phone call he had secured us a suite in a hotel that was full booked at half the normal rate?! Awesome. I have said it before; it is good to know people.

The hotel Delmar was perfect. Just a few moments from the beach it served all of our needs. We took a moment to settle in and then headed for the beautiful sandy shore. Once again Naz’s farther, Mehmet, had once again arranged for a rock star day for us. He knew the beach maitre’d, Abdullah, at the Sheraton hotel and though we were not staying there we were allowed to use their beautiful beach facilities.

We sat our on the beach and listened to the young children play as the waves flapped against the beach. We waited until we were quite hot and then plunged headlong into the Aegean. It was invigorating and saltier than a British sea captain. We played in the surf until hunger over came us. In the distance we smelled faint bits of yum being cooked. The four of us walked along the beach until we came to a Kumru stand. Kumru is a yummy Turkish sandwich that looks and tastes like this: {insert picture}

Rana had a relative that owned a bar near the Kumru stand so we decided to drop by. The woman welcomed us with open arms and even pulled out some beers for us while she and Rana caught up in very fast Turkish. I was lost. At least I had an MGD to keep me company.

We then headed back down the beach to our place at the Sheraton. It had not been10 minutes since we had returned and a giant fruit bowl was plopped in front of us. We could not be sure but we assumed that Abdullah was behind it. He was.

We went for a final swim and then headed back to the hotel room…thoroughly red all over. The four of us showered and headed for dinner in the “happenin’” part of the town. There we had them most amazing food I have had in turkey fried Manti! Could eat for every meal ever… After dinner Augusto saw an ad for a Mexican band, of all things, that he wanted to see was playing at Babylon, the cool club in Turkey. So we decided to go. The club was right on the beach so we could sit on little pillows and listen to the water lap against the shore while we waited for the bad to play. Pretty awesome really. The band was kind of electronic with trumpets and an accordion. They were good but we were so tired. Rana and I sat down on the beach and promptly feel asleep on the comfy pillows. Augusto found us as the concert was ending and we all took a cab home. What a day.

Izmir and the Wedding: told with other peoples' pictures

2008-07-11T23:28:00.000+02:00

Yesterday Rana and I headed out on an adventure to the south of turkey. Our aim was to make for Bodrum, city of topless old European tourists. What fun? First we had to get there. Before Bodrum we wanted to go to a friend's wedding in Izmir. Rana's cousin Naz and her boyfriend Augusto joined us. We boarded a bus at 11:30 last night and headed over the Sea of Marmara in a ferry. Sorry I have to warn you ahead of time I took not real pictures today so these are filler.

To occupy our time we played telephone in 3 languages between 4 of us.

The simple phrase "I want cheese," came out something like " la petite mort." and so on. We ate muffins we had made and tried to sleep but generally that was impossible. At about 4 in the morning the bus stopped at a restaurant and we got a cup of soup. We sort of lost track of the time and the bus driver found us 45 minutes later saying "the bus is going to leave without you!" At least that is what I think he said but it could have been. "You know that belt really doesn't go with those shoes." The world will never know.

Then the bus bumbled and bumped for 4 more hours until we made it to Izmir. Waiting were Naz's parents with a fantastic breakfast for us! We ate our fill and I fell into one of those knock out slumbers after you're full. You know the kind that hit you like lead frying pan. A awoke an hour or two later and we went for a nice whirl wind tour of Izmir before the wedding. It was cool and we bought candy aphrodisiacs from a man wearing a hat advertising his product.

Turkish weddings are fascinating. I spent about 45 minutes showering, ironing my shirt and pants, and doing my best not to smell like I'd been on a bus for most of the morning. When we got to the public hall and the wedding began about ten minutes later. It was over and people were congratulating the bridal party about 15 minutes later. I'm not exaggerating.

I thought, "I ironed for this?" Shouldn't there be fireworks or and old lady playing a synth organ or something? Nope. Done and Done. My theory is that in a climate so hot you don't need electricity to make toast, one should do one's best to move things along that keep lots of people in heavy wool clothing in a confined space. I am happy to say there was no faintings though some people did come just in time to shake hands and then were gone.

Tomorrow we are headed for Çeşme, a lovely coastal beach town near Izmir and the next day Bodrum. I am not sure about the internet connection there so this may be my last post for a while. Take care.

The is the Errant Particle saying: "Try to break off from the Nucleus for a while."

American Consulate Attacked in Istanbul

2008-07-09T20:50:00.000+02:00

Friends,
They following is sad and somewhat graphic please continue at your own risk.

It is with great sadness I tell you that the American consulate, here in Istanbul, was attacked by unknown gunmen today. Early in the afternoon a grey Ford Focus approached the consulate and 3 men got out. They murdered one Turkish police officer by sneaking up on him and shooting him in the head with a pistol. The other gunmen produced shotguns and began to fire at the Turkish police. A 6 minute long firefight ensued claiming two more law officer's lives and injuring two more. All of the gunmen were killed but the driver escaped.

No one else was harmed.

This attack has already been linked to Al-Queda by the American Press but there are many things about it that don't make any sense. No one here actually knows anything except that the attackers were Turkish. I mean come on, 4 guys attack the US consulate with no body armor and nothing more than pistols and a few shotguns. The US ambassador is calling it an act of terror and I suppose it is but what I can't figure out is what they expected to achieve.

I abhor violence in all its forms and this is no exception. Please take a moment to remember the Turks that died today to protect Americans.

If you would like more information please take a moment to read attached BBC article: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/7497049.stm

P.S. You may have missed this in the American news as it has already been removed from CNN.

Dad arrives in the City of Old Cool stuff

2008-07-06T15:13:00.000+02:00

Ok so it's not a title that will win me a Pulitzer but it's true. Mom and I had been waiting for my father to arrive for a few days so we had been tactfully avoiding going to the "must see" sites in the city. Once he arrived it was on like Donkey Kong.

Like many tourists we took advantage of the proximity of most of these major attractions. The blue mosque, the Hagia Sofia and Topkapi Palace are all within reasonable walking distance of each other. It really was kind of the ancient Sultans to construct their building in such a way that they now serve my convenience.

Inside Topkapi palace I discovered (discovered meaning I followed the arrows and signs) the biggest most ornate robe I ever seen. I'm too young to have seen Libirachi in concert. Anyway I found out that it belonged to the last "warrior sultan" named Murad the 4th." Check out the wiki on bad boy Murad_IV. He was a giant man who carried a 130 pound hammer that he swung like a baby rattle using only one hand. Kinda has the princess Amadala look to the head dress.

We then we checked out the Blue Mosque which is not called that in Turkish. It's called SultanAhmet named for the sultan (Ahmet I) who built it. Go figure? I always wonder how they know to call him Ahmet the 1st. I mean do they know there are going to more? There's a lot of pressure for Ahmet to have sons then, right? I'm sure he figured it out with a Harem of 30 women. Here's mom outside the Harem (translated conveniently into English for us)

I stayed outside because I'd seen it before but mom and dad traipsed right on through. (It took me a really long time to spell traipsed.) I wish the french would stop giving English words, it is far too confusing.

By the time we'd seen these wonders we were tired and a bit hungry. We walked up to a local simit seller and bought a doughy sesame covered ring of loveliness. Here he is walking away after we patronized his cart. Ok, well that's all for today. Görüşürüz (see you later) as the Turkish say...I know what you are thinking and yes, it is a hard language.

Tourists and Tulips oh my!

2008-07-04T20:00:00.000+02:00

So there we were surrounded by buildings that were older than our country by a good clip. What else to do but explore them? We walked up Istiklal (mentioned earlier) until we came to Taksim square.

Taksim is probably the most important location for an Istanbul Turks.

They've all been here for years (some were even born here) and are less interested in things like the Blue Mosque or the Hagia Sofia but Taksim baby, that's where it's at!

The square bussels with open air cafes, movie festivals and the aforementioned smell of commerce. Everyone meets here, works here and passes through this area once a day. It's like that damn bottleneck on I-5 in the middle of Seattle but much more pleasant as there are snacks.

In the picture above you can see that the square has been filled with Tulip sculptures. (Love the disco ball motif) The tulip has long been argued to have originated from Turkey but Dutch enthusiasts say that it was imported by the Ottoman Sultans from Holland. I don't really know, but Istanbul is doing bang up job of pushing the product. Local businesses commissioned local artists in a kind of culture meets advertising mash-up. This be the result:
This tulip is embroidered with crochet! It's a Halloween tulip with spiderweb stitching hanging off of it. Well maybe not. This one took my notice because it was entitled "Remembering my Grandmother." Sweet.

This one has a post world war look mixed with that stunning barber pole aesthetic.

Pretty pretty princess Aviary?

and my personal favorite: Suddenly horticulture looks like a lot more fun!

So we meandered around checking out the shopping districts. As a side note, "Meander" I found out, is the name of a twisty river here in Turkey. That's where the word originates, or so the Turks say. I've discovered that Turks are more nationalistic that anywhere else I have ever been. One of my guides told me that everyone in the world is descended from Turks because of the Trojan war. I told him that Uber-Nationalism was Turkey's Achilles heel. Needless to say he did not pick up on the joke.

Being sated artistically by the tulips we headed out to look at some ancient architecture.

The Hagia Sofia is one of largest structures of antiquity. It was built as a church then was converted to a mosque and now is a national park, talk about a case of identity crisis. Note the gigantic Sulatn medalions hanging from the supporting pillars. These are early Bling, Bling!

What you won't find in the Wikipedia article is that the street merchants which surround it know how to say "cute things" in about 10 different languages. "Please sir let me help you spend your money. How bout some on your Honey?" Who knows how to say "Cotton Candy" in yiddish, this guy...
So we ended the day with a cotton candy. How can you not? And he walked off into the sunset dispensing pink happiness to all... See you next time.

New to the Joof

2008-07-03T13:01:00.000+02:00

Subscribe to the Joof! It's very easy and 100% fresh squeezed free!
Simply click over there where is says "Posts" and drag down to: oror if you're really savvy you can use one of the other programs listed. Google adds this puppy right to your iGoogle site and Atom will put it in your live bookmarks (it will update as I update the blog). Pretty cool huh? That way you can enjoy my ramblings with very little effort! Yay, for little effort.

The other new oven-fresh additive to the site are my outside links. Venture out in the wide world of the web and check out my art portfolio and my new CafePress site. CafePress allows you to throw up your art and print it on just about anything. Right now I've only got one shirt available for purchase but soon there will be more.

Alright this is not a real post just a quick informational there will be another forthcoming pronto!

Exploring Istangoat...er...bul.

2008-06-24T11:02:00.000+02:00

I have been remiss. This is supposed to be a log of my travel and I have not so logged. I apologize. I intend to make up for it by making this next Joof as captivating as humanly possible.

Enter Mom and Dad!

Barbara and Jim are pictured above relaxing at one of our favorite home-cooked restaurants called Little Wing. Every time you go to Little Wing the proprietor creates a new culinary masterpiece which is consequently "what's for dinner." That's it. Whatever she's made you eat. Luckily not a thing comes out of Esra's oven that does not send your senses into a orgiastic tailspin of flavor. If you look very carefully you can see her in the picture below.
Example: I wouldn't eat eggplant if it was dipped in chocolate, served on a platter filled with my favorite beers, and all presented to me by the incomparable Juliette Binoche.

I eat Esra's eggplant.

Mom arrived before dad so we had some quality time to hang out and enjoy the city. We explored all of the hot sites. To get there we first we hiked it from Rana's house up the street and boarded the most amazing piece of transportation technology since the unicycle, a Dolmuş.

For those of you who don't speak Turkish, which is bound to be 98% of the people reading this, the shay symbol "ş" is pronounced "sh." That makes the word "Dol- mush." I always thought it was called that because everyone mushes inside but dolmuş literally means "filled."
Here is one:

These puppies take you all over the city at fraction of the price of a taxi and only a few cents more than a bus. They are the perfect carpooling solution. Each little bus has a big door that opens on the right side (not shown) through which people board and disembark. It's like mom taking all the neighborhood kids to soccer practice except mom smokes Marlboroughs and smells like an Aegean fish merchant. Lets just say the Dolmuş isn't as kind to the senses as Esra's cooking.

Once we figured out the "little yellow mini bus," as I heard a Spaniard here call it, we ventured into the vast and beautiful city that is Istanbul. Ancient minarets adorn busy modern streets. You can literally walk out of building much older that the US and into a Banana Republic to buy the latest style of pants that are made for men with no asses. (Damn you BR.)Pictured below is one such anachronistic street call Istiklal. In the foreground are two enthralled looking Turks that I don't know. (Bet they never dreamed they'd be on the internet).

This street is quite famous for shopping...if you like the same shops you're used to in the States. It is so comforting to go half way around the world only to be inundated by American companies at every turn. Yeah for the 4 Starbucks on this street. Ok, let me just wipe off this oozing sarcasm so we can continue. Well maybe not. I think that is enough for today. I certianly hope think electronic fun finds you smiling.
Devon

Casting off the chains of oppression.

2008-06-14T15:49:00.000+02:00

Blog is such a silly disgusting sounding word. It's like "Blech" mixed with "log." There's just no good imagery that emerges there. So in an emergency last minute meeting with myself I've decided to call mine something different, something catchy yet not cliché, something with a sparkly undertone that doesn't get stuck in your teeth.

I tried on a number of names for size. To mention but a few: teelop, hoobergrip, grundleflight, nod, draq, ube, imk, qweeb, and of course steve. None spoke to me in the way the following did.

Hitherto my blog will be known as a joof.

Are we all clear now? My joof will be the same as a blog yet different. It will be free of most things that bog down the blog, most of all the thought process. It will be pithy yet airy, strong yet subtle, and interesting yet trite.
Stay tuned.

How to Plummet

2008-06-02T22:02:00.000+02:00

The name of this entry should be adopted by the red bull boys. Last weekend I had the supreme pleasure of attending the Redbul Flugtag event right here in little olde Istanbul.

If you are unfamiliar with this publicity sporting event, familiar up cause it is really quite fun and is infused with an equal dose of hilarity. Teams assembled by the local community compete in a ridiculous display of flight by designing a glider that can theoretically fly supporting the weight of one person. The Rules? The glider can only be people powered. Teams are judged on style, distance, and something else.

The event was conveniently held not 4 blocks from our apartment so getting there was a breeze. We trundled on over and met some of our German friends who were in town, Johannes and Ina. It was about 95 degrees (35 degrees Celsius, I'm learning) and we waded through thousands of people until we had a decent place to stand.

Oh yeah, It was hot, damn hot, so the beard became a memory, quicklike.

The Redbull crew had achieved an impressive erection in the neighborhood of about 3 stories tall. Each team was announced and did a little jig or skit before the big leap . My favorite team had a disco theme for which they designed an exceptionally flightless record player to toss off the cliff. Here it be!

I know it's difficult to see with the small picture but he throws silver confetti into the air right as he jumps. Marks for flare! About midway through the program a plane flew over and dropped a little man out. With deft movements he was able to steer his parachute right onto the dock. Cool. I did learn a few things that day as well:

It is important when out in the sun all day to stay hydrated.

And of course don't forget to cover your head.

Hope this finds you all well.
Devon

Didn't your mother tell you not to climb on rocks

2008-05-22T17:35:00.000+02:00

Hello all,
Two weeks now and not a pip. You must be salivating for the next leg of my journey, laid out in exquisite prose for your reading enjoyment. (Can a journey have more than two legs? I mean if there is a journey animal, then it can, right? maybe four? I know. The journey animal has 10 legs as there were 5 members of the original touring lineup. Don't stop believin') In reality you most likely deleted the link and I am typing a pointless diatribe to my self. C'est la vie.

The trip over left the slightest bit to be desired. The champagne was served in flight slightly above the preferred temperature (48°F). The airline stewards did not greet me with the traditional "Good morning monsieur Carroll" to which I am accustomed. Furthermore the pepper-flaked pate infused Brie was a touch on the runny side.

Oh yeah, in "real life" I sat sandwiched between a snoring Englishman and one of 14 women all wearing the same shirt going to Istanbul for some sort of female version of a bachelor party. Lovely.

After listening for hours to them make noises not unlike a flock of hens discovering an open bag of chickenfeed we arrived in Istanbul. There I was picked up by my gracious and wonderful partner, the beautiful, the intelligent the resourceful, Rana.

The first few days have been filled to the brim with a murky liquid called jetlag. Whoever tells you it doesn't exist is selling something. A heavy malaise hovers expectantly over even the most minute action. For example, every time I sat down I felt like I'd been doing ab exercises with the men from that "300" film. Out like the lights at an all-girls boarding school was I.

Now that the jetlag has run it's course like the cruel drug it be, we decided to go hiking today . I can't tell you how beautiful it was. It was beautiful (ok so I can). At least that is until I fell off of a rock wall looking while looking at the black sea. I'm fine, I'm fine. No need for the letters and flowers I'm sure you were going to send, but I was doing one of those "things." You know those things that your mother told you not to do.

I was "horsing around" on the rocks and I paid the piper with a leg like a used bowling pin. Wee. The walk back to the ferry that had brought us there was fine, didn't feel a thing. Once I sat for a while though my shin ballooned, a marshmallow in the microwave-like heat of Istanbul.

With some trouble I disembarked and made it to the Dolmuş (a little yellow mini-bus) which would take me to safety. Here I lie. Beer in one hand, leg (the third leg of my journey?) elevated, and shin covered in a makeshift ice pack (frozen onion rings). Oh how the semi-mighty have fallen. More soon. Love to you all.

Numero Uno Posto

2008-04-30T01:52:00.000+02:00

As promised here be the blog (sounds like something pirates would drink). Ok I understand that it is a little silly to start a travel blog decidedly pre-travel but I've got to warm me little appendages somehow! So as I am new to this world of literary spewing I will make this first one a bit on the short side.

This is a picture of a daily event I already miss, cappuccino hour. Depicted are monsenior Kern and I enjoying our final capps together. Probably the best photo of either of us in existence.

In other news, the non-working life is nice as I am finding time for things I have all but forgotten. For instance I've taken up fencing over the last two days. Any sport where you get to wear a kitchen strainer over your face and wield a sword is in fact my bag. Other hobbies include roller luge and the ever popular curling. Curling, for those of you who do not know, is bartender practice for giants and incidentally the only sport to include brooms.

I have found time for two of my real passions cooking and writing. Turns out they don't necessarily mix. Paella all over my prose, pretty greasy.

Wrapping up my fantastic 4 years in Seattle is no easy task. I can't believe there are so many things to do and people to whom I need to say goodbye. No goodbye really. As I said to someone on my last day. I'm not quitting, I'm just not coming in for a few years.
So maybe I'll just say "good day Seattle, I said good day sir" I will miss the way you look as the sunsets over the Olympics.