Update

No, I didn't stay in Damascus. I'm back in the US, and determined to actually finish up my journal....we'll see if I ever get to it.

maybe not

greetings from Damascus

I am enjoying my time here so much I don't want to leave! This is a must-see place in my book. I spent much of today wandering around the old city -- and am still basking in the relaxing time I had peoplewatching and hanging out in the courtyard of the Umayyad Mosque - one of the holiest in Islam. People from everywhere were sitting in what must be one of the world's great public spaces -- pilgrims from the Muslim world and local kids playing and women chatting in groups as if they were on their front porches.

People continue to amaze me with their warmth and helpfulness. People walking past me on the street say hello and everyone is very welcoming. I don't feel at all out of place -- I am wandering around everywhere feeling totally comfortable and at home. So glad I came and I wish I had more time. Of course, more details later, but I don't want to waste valuable street time sitting in here.

More from Syria

hi -- this great budget place in Hama has internet here so I can easily send a quick message. Things continue to go really well. People are so incredibly warm and friendly and so eager to prove that Syrians are not terrorists. (Their desperation on that count depresses me on one level because we all have such an impression of this place as dangerous etc but people are just open and warm without being as aggressive as in TUrkey.) You can actually walk around without people wanting things from you -- people are more likely to want to give yousomething. For intance the woman next to me on the bus today gave me a banana and even thou8gh we didn't really communicate we had an interaction. The knowing no arabic is a bit tough esp in a place like this (aleppo had a reasonable number of english speakers). People stop you and say "welcome welcome" -- just so friendly.
I ended up spending most of my time in Aleppo (besides a great stint in the best Souk covered market ever) with the family. I liked them all but I must say 6 year old Amir captured my heart. It was really hard to leave them. Besides getting to know a family and a particularly wonderful mother whom I really respect, I got to do some things that you never normally would as a tourist. Saturday night Soswan (the mother) took me to a gathering of women --mostly doctors wives -- they meet weekly for socializing and discussions. They read sections of the koran about the relationship between men and women and then had a raging debate about their opinions on it. It was extraordinariy. More details later. Then everyone put on their coverings over their glamrous night out clothes and all headed home. I didn't understand but it was fascinating nonetheless. We assume that women in the muslim world are covering and not questioning, and to see these women actvely engaging in a debate abuot womens issues in the Koran was something I feel privileged to have seen.
The next night, after a relaxing afternoon at home playing with Amir and Aya, she took me to a neighbor's -- she invited us the night before. It was even more interesting because her 22 year old daughter spoke English pretty well and we had an intense conversation about politics and cultural differences and our countries' impressons of each other. Definitely one of my most memorable travel experiences -- so much work needs to be done to help with understanding and if we could just have more conversations like that then a lot of problems would be helped I think. That is trite but I believe it. We need to sit Condi Rice down with a bunch of women in Aleppo and see what we can work out. Interesting too -- in most of the travel books I've read and also from hearing people like the american woman from downstairs, they all say that as a tourist it is really hard to get to know local women. I have had the opposite experience. I think my conservative clothing and general demeanor makes me seem more approachable. At the end of the night last night the women were clutching my hand and saying, "We love you Kris!" it was great.
Today I took a small tour outside of aleppo into the coutnry -- I am really tired of ruins but I enjoyed the day because they were fairly interesting or at least beautifully sited and the chance to drive through small villages, one Kurdish, one where everyone practices the religion of Zoroastrianism, was a treat. Also the guy who drove me around was the best guide I have had for being low key and enjoyable company. Even though it was only me it was very comfortable and no need to mention the fake husband. That is the thing about here -- oddly, the men I have encountered seem much less aggressive than the average ones in Turkey. For instance, I just bought a drink at a stand a few blocks from the hotel and the guy insisted that I come and sit inside the stall and talk with him on his English. In Turkey I would be hesitant, but after some urging I felt I had to do it and never once did I feel at all taht he would be at all aggressive or make assumptions about my intentions. Totally respectful. Some Turkish men are like that but you can't always count on it. We had a nice chat and I helped him with his English and it was an all around great 20 minutes or so.
Anyway, this town is great too, although most people seem to be on siesta. They hgave a bunch of huge old waterwheels groaning in the river. Planning to explore the old city for a while int he early evening then get some dinner and hopefully get an early night's rest. Tomorrow I will join a group from the hotel that is going to Krak de Chevalier the creme de la creme of crusader castles. As I said I am tired of ruins but that and Palmyra (where I will head tomorrow afternoon) are supposed to be must sees so I feel rather obliged. Then on wed I will head to Damascus. Not sure when I will head back to Turkey exactly. I have people expecting me there but I am enjoying my time here and feel that I am learning a lot so I might extend by a few days for more exploring.

greetings from Syria

I am at an internet cafe at a nice hotel -- so it is pretty expensive so I wont write much. Took me more than an hour of walking around trying to find one so I might not be writing that frequently.
What a great first day....people are so friendly and warm and everything is just great. I love it. The hotel is wonderful -- I have a great view of the citadel from my window. Got across the border with no problem and got here around noon yesterday. Interesting, I crossed over with a 20 year old iraqi guy who has been living in the UK for 6 years. He had far more trouble than I. Took him three weeks to get the visa and then he got questioned at the border about whether he was going to try to go to Iraq from there. Gives a lot of credence to syrias recent claims that they are trying to keep people from doing that but getting no appreciation for their efforts from US. They really gave this guy a talking to.
After a short nap in the hotel I went to the citadel to get a view to help orientmyself (the narrow winding streets are a bit confusing-- it feels medieval and actually this is one of the oldest continuously inhabited places on earth) and while I was there I met a really nice family -- two 6-7 year old kids a boy and a girl, Aya and Amir, and a really nice mom and dad, who is the chief of surgery at the university here and trained in the US. They invited me to spend the day with them and I ended up not getting back to the hotel til well after midnight. It was amazing. The kids were a riot =- bickering and joking around and doing fake burps! The mother wants me to come back over later today so I might do that. They took me to their country house for dinner and we met a poor widow who helps them with chores == she had such a warm spirit bout her. The family were so kind -- and it was fascinating to see inside family life. I got to witness their religious life too, as I sat there while the did prayers and then the mother read some of the koran aloud -- it was really fascinating. Faithful without being aggressive or uncomfortable. Lots lots lots to report so hopefully I will be able to take notes and then get it all down on paper later. Probably one of the best/most memorable travel experiences I have ever had.
Actually I thought I was going to get more than one invitiation -- several women at the citadel approached me and said hello and welcome. I am really impressed. I heard people were friendly but it is pretty extraordinary -- i was feeling a bit lost in an area where there were blacksmiths and people hammering decorations into copper trays and four people came up and tried to help me, and then shook my hand and then thanked me! The whole atmosphere of the city is rather exhilarating -- all the twisting narrow streets n the old city and then newer 1800s architecture with an Islamic flair here in the newer section. It is a bit difficult having no idea of the language but I am getting by. It feels even safer than in Turkey so I feel very comfortable walking around and the people are more relaxed and not as assertive about addressing people like in Egypt and parts of Turkey.
I am not sure what my plans are for the next few days. Willl try to write again when I can.

Ankara Update/Heading out of the Country

I’m preparing to leave on a southbound overnight bus, the first leg of my trip to Syria. Today was my last day of work; despite all the annoyances all along, we managed to have a very pleasant last day lunch at the faculty club, which made me feel like we left things on a positive note. It has the end of the year feel around here; apparently it is a tradition for the students to put on their graduation gowns the day they receive them and drive around campus honking and shouting out the windows of their cars. Then, then get out at the shopping center and run around in their gowns signing and cheering. It’s like graduation every day.

There isn’t much time to catch up on my Ankara experiences since my return from Trabzon, but I’ll try to sum up as much as possible.

Yesim and family:
The night after I returned from Trabzon, I met the family as usual. Actually, Ziba was stressed out and busy, so I just made my way there myself. Yesim and I had a good lesson – I was impressed by the story she’d begun to write the week before over dinner – now it had swelled to about 15 pages. The basic plot line involves a heartbroken archeologist finding love and a renewed enthusiasm for his career at Troy. It’s mostly dialogue, and she did a good job of using idioms. We finished the lesson by watching a little bit of a DVD about the Hittites. Yesim was cracking me up by rooting against the Anatolians when they battled Egypt!

After dinner, while Ziba worked, I sat over dinner with Isik and Yesim, telling them about my trip at first, and subsequently getting into a long and fascinating conversation about their views on religious fundamentalism and headscarves. Isik said she wouldn’t raise her child in a faith but would let them choose; Yesim said that she wanted to introduce her children to all faiths. They were asking me what I feel about the headscarf ban at Turkish universities and government entities, and I explained that coming from my background it seems to me that they should be allowed to practice their faith, but I know it is a more complex issue than that. And, I said, I feel that the ban causes people to become more militant as they attempt to push against the rules. Isik said that she can’t believe that people would reject the freedoms that Ataturk gave them by covering themselves up.

Later, Ziba came in and we continued the conversation. She also has mixed feelings about the headscarf ban; at times she thinks that part of freedom and democracy would be letting people choose to wear it or not to wear it. But she worries that with the other camp increasing in their power, they might not offer people the same leeway; stated simply, she – and others – are concerned that if you allow the headscarf then, eventually, the Islamists will then require the headscarf of all women. “I will not let my daughters be forced into covering.” She said. I looked over at Yesim and said that I couldn’t imagine her covered. Not at all. She’s not one to fit into rules. That one issue seems to encapsulate a lot of what’s going on in Turkey right now with this divide between the Ataturk Kemalists and the Islamists. But for me, part of freedom is choosing whether or not to cover; banning it seems to undercut any aims towards democracy (same goes for France.)

On Friday night, I went to see a play that Isik’s department was doing. I sat with Yesim, who seemed to love it and understand it pretty well. Called Beyond Therapy, the play was about a bisexual neurotic New Yorker, his girlfriend and his live in male lover. Their crazy and lecherous therapists also had parts. I was surprised: the students did a great job – it wasn’t an easy play I don’t think, and they nailed it pretty well. But also I was surprised that the program had chosen such adult content for a first year student production. There was lots of talk about sex that was pretty graphic, and the premise, about bisexuality, also seemed incongruent with what I hear people discussing openly here. Nonetheless, they did a good job. I also got to meet Yesim’s dad, visiting from Poland, which was interesting too.

Moving plans
Well, I need to give only three days notice, which is good. The building manager let me put up a sign advertising my belongings; within three or four days I had agreements of sale on almost all that I wanted to sell. On average I’m getting about 45% of what I paid for the appliances, which I think is great. That means that I spent only a little more than 200 USD for all my appliances (fridge, tv, stove, radio) etc., a good deal especially considering my impossibly low rent. It’s also been interesting to meet the others from the building who have bought things. It’s felt surprisingly social to have people coming over to make offers.

I also have seen somewhat of a détente in the strangely strained relations with my friend Sahika from early on. We were really out of touch for a host of reasons; now though, on the cusp of my departure, we seem to be on much better terms, so I feel good about that.

It was a fairly social stretch in Ankara, which was good. I saw a lot of the friends that I’ve made but haven’t done a good job of keeping in close contact with. Somehow, I felt I needed to choose between traveling and seeing the country, or being chained to a city I didn’t particularly like, nurturing relationships that are by their nature short term. I landed on the side of travel, with no regrets. I can see though, that my time in Ankara might have been better had I done a better job of reaching out socially. But somehow, I just didn’t feel like investing a lot of energy and attention into short term friendships. I hope when I get home I can take this lesson and be more open socially since I will feel more settled there and will see it as building long term human capital, for lack of a better phrase.

Trip to Syria
So, I’m going to Syria. I spent the better part of Friday getting the visa, a process which included a half an hour long interview about whether I’ve ever been to occupied Palestine or whether I intend to go. It cost a bit more than I expected, but I got it nonetheless. The process was a bit of an experience; huge lines of Turks applying for work visas I think, and lots of security and some chaos. Once I did the interview inside (I was the only person I saw buzzed in the main gate, and I had to leave my backpack outside at the security kiosk), I had to come back several hours later. I used that time to get my reimbursement from the travel agent for the mistake ticket on the morning Trabzon flight. When I got back, after waiting for almost forty five minutes, the staff emerged with tall stacks of Turkish passports, with my little American one perched on top. The guy slid it to me through the bars of the gate.

I’m looking forward to the trip – don’t really know what to expect, but I am sure it will be an adventure. I’ve been wanting to do this for a while, and now seems to be the best time.

I’ll try to make posts if I can from Internet café’s although I don’t think I’ll be able to post photos. More later…first a night bus to Antakya, in Turkey, and then a night there to rest, then on to Aleppo Syria.

The church is one of the buildings on the other side of the valley.
� Kris Nesbitt 2005

Mosque spires for sale.
� Kris Nesbitt 2005

Massive loaves of Trabzon bread.
� Kris Nesbitt 2005

The view from my Trabzon hotel room.
� Kris Nesbitt 2005

The rainy, unsuccessful walk to find the farm with a Byzantine church barn.
� Kris Nesbitt 2005

Ticket crisis in Trabzon

I awoke rather early with the hopes of doing some sightseeing before I was supposed to head over to the Karadeniz campus around 9:30 or so. Over breakfast, as I munched on my Trabzon bread and mentally tried to plan my day, I started thinking about my flight back to Ankara that evening. I’d checked it multiple times on the trip, and repeated 20:05 to myself. But as I said it, I got a visual of the ticket itself – 08:05. Wait….

I pulled out the ticket trying not to panic and, to my dismay, realized that indeed the ticket was for 08:05 – a morning flight, which must have left Trabzon about a half an hour earlier. How did it happen? I tried not to freak out; I knew the original reservation was for the evening flight. That was certain. But somehow my ticket had been changed, and I didn’t realize it.

As soon as I finished breakfast, I stashed my belongings in the storage room and checked out of the hotel. I hurried over to the Turkish Airlines office and tried to explain my problem. She wasn’t particularly nice about it, and kept calling me a “no show” amidst fast-spoken Turkish that I didn’t particularly understand. She called the THY call center, and put on an English speaker who proceeded to inform me, in no uncertain terms, that I’d been a no show on the flight and that I should have let them know I wouldn’t be on it 12 hours in advance. But, I stammered, there’s a problem. I thought it was the evening flight. No sympathy. You were a no show. Can I get my money back or a new ticket? No. No change fee, nothing, simply a total revocation of the full fare price.

I was upset. Somehow this seemed unjust – there was some sort of problem with the ticket. But no sympathy at Turkish Airlines. I tried to call the agent in Ankara where I’d bought the ticket, but the good English speaker, Tarkan, wasn’t in. I explained the situation to the woman who answered, and she said I should wait for Tarkan to come in an hour. How would I get back to Ankara for work the next day? The bus was 13 hours at least…and more money.

As I sat debating what to do, the girls from Karadeniz called wondering if I was coming. I explained that I was having troubles, and, as I struggled to tell the story in Turkish I felt profoundly alone and without allies. I agreed that we’d talk later and I’d try to come around 11:30 if I could. I sat on the sofa for a few minutes in the airlines office, and then a text message beeped in, from one of the girls saying, “We feel sorry for you and can help if you need.” But what can they do? I thought, and promptly burst into tears.

I’ve only cried two or three times in Turkey, and this one produced the typical response. The woman behind the desk was rather unyielding, proceeded to fuss at me a bit about how the reason for my tears was not her fault, and then offered me tea.

After calming myself, I left, unsure of what to do next. Since I was waiting for Tarkan to call back, I headed down to the Russian market to check that out. On the way, I stopped at another travel agency. That woman was really nice and spoke English. I explained the problem, and she looked up my record. She then called the call center and had a conversation with them. Looking at my record, it appeared, she said, that someone in Antalya had made the initial reservation for the evening flight, which was still in the computer. But a woman in Ankara had changed it to the morning before issuing it. The fact that the initial record was still in the system coupled with my having not gotten on the morning flight, she explained, was fairly good proof that a mistake that I was unaware of had been made. She said to try to work it out with the agent in Ankara.
Feeling a bit better, I walked down to the Russian market, noticing a few Natasha types and some brothel looking buildings on the way down. At the market, I found, to my pleasure, one of the mosque shape ezan call to prayer alarm clocks Sue Ann told me about. I’d been wanting one, and now, for about $6, one was mine. I also bought a cook brass engraving from one of the former soviet block vendors.

Heading back up into the main area of town, I decided to go ahead and call Tarkan. Surrounded by noisy dolmuses, I made the call and managed to reach him. He’d been told of the problem, and his response was I should buy a new ticket and he’d reimburse me the money. He wasn’t sure why she’d change the ticket, but obviously she did. Filled with relief, I headed back to the second agent here and bought a ticket from the good agent.

That resolved, I text messaged one of the girls at Karadeniz and soon I was on a dolmus heading to the campus. Unlike METU, which requires ID to enter, Karadeniz was more open. Within a few minutes two of them had found me, and soon we were beginning an hour long tour. The campus was beautiful, far more beautiful than METU, and I was surprised that there was a full size mosque on campus that even did the ezan. We kept running into other friends of theirs, and I felt like the pied piper as the size of our group swelled. They took me to see their English teacher, who is American. I was surprised to see that she was dressed in a short skirt with bare legs along with a short sleeve shirt. Later they said that they don’t think she much likes Turkey. And on the bus back into town, one girl told me that this teacher likes to go out drinking with her students (mostly male) – a sin. Without thinking, I said that I thought that was unusual and somewhat inappropriate, especially under the circumstances, I thought to myself. If I were posted in that situation in Trabzon, I would dress conservatively and find other people besides my students to socialize with.

Another interesting thing about the visit was the fact that the girls had a faithful response for all my comments about the campus. “It’s beautiful here” brought a response of “All the beauty of the world is a sign of Allah.” “Look at those huge roses!” led to Hanife sharing how roses are important in Islam because they are a sign of the prophet (or of Allah -- I’m not sure which!) As I waited for the bus to leave, Hanife gave me a gift of a book in English about Allah and Islam, written by a leading Turkish cleric. I thanked her, and headed on my way, feeling strangely drained. The girl who rode the bus back with me wanted me to come to her house, but I had to decline. I needed to recoup by myself, and pick up the newly altered baggy pants.

With that aim in mind, I headed down to the market area, and spent a lot of time trying to find the store. Even though I had a card, no one seemed to know where it was, and by the bright light of day, it all looked different. It was also extremely crowded on the streets, mostly with women in headscarves. Finally, after getting three different shopkeepers to help me, I managed to find my way – the final shopkeeper took the card and walked along the stalls yelling out the name of the owner.

From there I wandered the streets a bit more, looking at the variety of textiles on offer. I also found a bread and produce area, as well as a few stalls selling building materials, including rather impressive spires for mosques. I asked if I could take a picture of them, and the men at the stall said sure, but wondered if I knew what they were. They seemed pleased when I gave the right answer.

Around midafternoon, I stopped off to get some pide for lunch, and then decided to ask at the tourist office for directions to the final site I was interested in seeing – an old Byzantine church being used as a barn on a farm on a plateau just outside of Trabzon. The tourist officer gave me instructions quite different from those in both my guidebooks, but I trusted him anyway….probably not the best plan. I got on the dolmus he described and we headed out of town, climbing up to the mountains that ringed the city.

After the other passengers got off, suddenly the driver told me that he was no longer a dolmus but was private taxi instead, and that he would drive me to the church. I protested, and asked how much. “20 million.” No way! I told him I wouldn’t pay it – and that the dolmus should go further as a real dolmus. He dropped the price to ten million but I still balked, and refused to pay any more than the dolmus fare. He said, then, that it was the end of the line, still trying to extort the money from me. I refused, and insisted on being let off the dolmus immediately. He slammed on the brakes and I got off, handing him the 1 million dolmus fare. As soon as I stepped off, he squealed away, and I looked around. I was standing in the rain at the edge of a small town. The direction he’d pointed me in seemed to lead nowhere. There were no people anywhere around. I wondered what to do for a minute, then decided to walk in the rain in hopes of finding the church. I made a somewhat poor decision as I tried to convert the guidebook directions to my lived reality in this isolated location – and took a left down into a small village area. The lack of people was eerie. I walked and walked; about 15 minutes later, in the rain, I encountered two peasant women, who seemed very surprised to see me. I asked for directions, and the answers they gave seemed to indicate that I should cut across farm fields. I decided not to follow that and walked on the road instead.

Another ten minutes later, I encountered another very old woman. At this point, the hood on my raincoat was up, and when she looked up and saw me, she immediately appeared to become frightened. She covered her lower face with the tail of her headscarf and eyed me warily. I pulled down my hood, and she seemed to relax a bit. I asked about the church, and she pointed it out to me – it was across a small valley on another hill – quite a ways away. She suggested that I walk across the fields, down into the valley and back up again. Then we talked a little bit – her accent was unfamiliar and very hard for me to understand. I wondered if her first language was Laz or one of the other dying languages from the Black Sea Coast.

I decided to follow the road a few minutes later to see if it looked like it connected again with the hill on the other side. It didn’t. As the rain increased, I decided to turn back. After a few minutes I caught up with the old woman again, and we talked a bit more about where I was from and why I was there. Then I followed my way back towards where the dolmus had abandoned me, beginning to feel a little anxious about how I would get back into Trabzon. It was about 5:30 and my flight wasn’t until nearly 10 so there seemed like plenty of time, but my anxiety was rising a bit nonetheless.

Even though I hadn’t seen the actual church close up, I’d seen it from afar. My guidebooks had described how the roof had caved in and the frescoes probably wouldn’t last much longer. But, from across the way, it appeared that perhaps a new metal roof had been added to the building.

As I approached the spot where I’d gotten off the dolmus, I heard one coming. As it sped past I tried to flag it down, and initially it passed me. But 20 yards or so along, he slammed on his breaks and threw it into reverse, and I ran to meet him. Within 15 minutes I was back in Trabzon.

I spent the rest of the early evening surfing the internet at a café and catching up on stuff before it was time to grab some dinner and catch a dolmus. I ate a light meal in the family salon of a cafeteria style restaurant, and was surprised to see that they had a female waitress, pretty unusual in Turkey.

Unfortunately, after getting on the cheap dolmus to the airport, I actually missed the stop and had to switch dolmuses (kindly on their part for free) and double back. I ended up being early for the flight, and when I finally was able to check in, the handsome ticket agent saw both tickets in the sleeve and wondered why. He spoke English so I explained, and he reconfirmed that it would be taken care of in Ankara. I suspect that if I’d said I’d paid for it, he might have done something. I was glad I’d realized the problem early in the day; coming to the airport with an incorrect ticket would have been traumatic!

Within under two hours, I was back in the flat, feeling once again that I’d utterly shifted worlds.

"Trabzon" Hollywood-style sign.
� Kris Nesbitt 2005

Group photo.
� Kris Nesbitt 2005

Dinner in Trabzon, with my student friends.
� Kris Nesbitt 2005

Aya Sofia, in Trabzon.
� Kris Nesbitt 2005

Sumela interior complex.
� Kris Nesbitt 2005

Ones on the ceiling are in better shape.
� Kris Nesbitt 2005

Damaged frescoes, Sumela.
� Kris Nesbitt 2005

Another view from the walk up.
� Kris Nesbitt 2005

Sumela monastery, near Trabzon.
� Kris Nesbitt 2005

A Full Day in Trabzon

I did manage to get back to sleep after the call to prayer – probably the loudest of anyplace I’ve stayed but certainly atmospheric. Anyway, after a breakfast which included hunks of Trabzon bread, a more dense variety that I liked a lot, I killed a bit of time wandering around the streets until it was time for the bus to arrive.

It took about an hour to get to the Sumela Monastery, and we got stopped twice at checkpoints, which I was not at all expecting in this part of Turkey. I enjoyed seeing the cliffside monastery at Sumela, but it didn’t blow me away. The walk up to reach it was a tranquil three kilometers uphill through the mossy, fern and flower covered forest. The views of the surrounding mountains and large rushing creek below also were worth the trip. The monastery itself wasn’t as elaborate as I expected; the frescoes in the interior of one room were impressive, and someone stylistically different from others I’ve seen, but the ones – scarred by centuries of vandals – were disappointing. There is just so much art and architecture in decay.

The visit to Sumela took most of the day; we arrived back around 3 pm. I wondered what to do with the rest of my time, and decided I should head out of the downtown to visit Aya Sofia church on the coast. The man at the tourist office suggested that I could walk there in about 20 minutes. I thoroughly enjoyed my walk across a vast swath of Trabzon, but it took me more like 35 or 40. I passed the Trabzonspor soccer stadium, the old section of the city walls and decaying architecture, a number of churches converted to mosques, and various commercial districts before I finally found my way to Ayasofia, off a side street. This place impressed me in some ways far more than Sumela.
The setting, despite the surrounding concrete recent city sprawl, remained a peaceful garden, well maintained and filled with massive, vibrant flowers of many species. The church overlooked the Black Sea from its plateau, and I sat a while having a cup of tea enjoying the view and the flowers in its lovely outdoor tea garden. It was small and simple, with some good remaining frescoes – this building was conserved as early as the 1950s so it was in much better shape than some. I thoroughly enjoyed the time I spent there.

As I walked back into town I decided I was tired – between the hike up to Sumela and the walk today, I was feeling a bit spent. I flagged down a dolmus, and then hopped out near Trabzon’s commercial area. I spent an hour or so strolling around the streets, stopping into several stores in search of another pair of baggy lightweight pants. The market district was bustling this early evening – and I was surprised at how outwardly conservative Trabzon seemed. Many, if not most, of the women were wearing tight silk headscarves and long tunics. Long denim tunics almost shaped like fitted trench coats seemed to be all the rage, and I went into one store with the intention of perhaps purchasing one. However inside I realized that they had the exact kind of pants I was hoping for, so instead of a coat I bought a pair of pants instead. They were a bit long, so the woman agreed to alter them and we made arrangements for me to pick them up the next day. While in this transaction, my phone rang – it was the girl from the dolmus and a friend. They wanted me to come to their house for dinner; I agreed, and we decided to meet near my hotel in about a half an hour or so.

I hurried back through the market streets in a slight drizzling rain and soon was back at the central square. As I struggled to cross the busy street to get to the hotel (I desperately wanted to wash my face and freshen up), I heard my name being called, and sure enough if was Ceyda and her young friend. Both had their tight silk headscarves on; Ceyda wore a long coat and her friend a baggy red sweat jacket.

We attempted a greeting in the middle of the street, risking life and limb, but then quickly moved to the median. Her friend spoke English quite well; it turns out Hanife was a first year student in the English teaching program at Karadeniz. We first stopped off at a store to buy some sweets for after the meal, and then headed by dolmus back towards the university. The climb up into their residential neighborhood was achingly steep – we took a short break so they could stop in a small grocery to buy an enormous tub of yogurt. There they asked if I like Turkish food; tonight we’d be having traditional food, they explained, including manti (Turkish tortellini). We continued further up the hill and into a concrete apartment building, fairly new looking.

Inside, I was immediately impressed by how new and clean it was. The flat was far larger than I would have expected for college students, and I wondered what the story was about their residing together. I never quite found out.

The initial few minutes of the visit were somewhat overwhelming, as one by one I was introduced to my various dinner companions – seven girls, three uncovered, and one of their mothers, who seemed to be doing all the cooking. I asked to use the bathroom, and managed to use the impeccably clean squat toilet quite easily.

The evening that ensued ended up being rather intense for me. The girls had a thousand questions for me as we ate manti, moussaka and pilav around the tablecloth sofra set on the floor. For most of these girls, if not all, Islam seemed to be the driving force in their lives, and many of their questions for me had some relation to that. Very early on they asked me what my religion is – always a difficult question for me and even more problematic when I try to explain in Turkish. I decided that any kind of answer that promoted my general secularism would not play well with this crowd, but I also don’t feel comfortable classifying myself as Christian. So, I launched into an attempt to describe Quakerism in Turkish. They were very concerned about whether I had been able to practice my religion in Turkey, and as I explained that in Quakerism the inner light is within you, so you can always practice your faith. They seemed to respond well to that, all nodding and explaining how similar that is to Islam. They also linked my categorization of some branches of Quakerism as being “allah” centered rather than Christ centered to Islamic faith as well.

As we ate, the ezan (call to prayer) went off at a nearby mosque, and they, quite sweetly, asked if it would make me uncomfortable if they prayed. Usually they would do a full prayer, but since we were eating, we simply paused around the table and they did a short prayer, holding out their hands in front of them, palms up, with their fingers curled. When we finished eating, we stopped to pray a second time, this one for longer. They described it as something like the Christian grace, but delivered after eating rather than before.

Hanife, the English speaking one of the group, tried her best to translate our conversation, but I’m not sure how much was getting through at the times that I had to resort to English. There was a frustrating and disheartening moment when Hanife asked if Americans dislike Muslims because of their faith. I so wanted to deliver an unequivocal, firm NO. But in could faith I couldn’t. I launched instead to a description I’ve used a lot lately, that America is so huge that there is, to paraphrase John Edwards, no One America. It depends on the place and the individual people. Unfortunately, I had to try to explain that some people are ignorant and make judgments about Muslims. But others, I tried to say, do not. And, I hope the vast majority are the latter. But anecdotally, I have to say that I think I would have had more visitors this year had my placement been in Germany or really anyplace not Islamic. The overall ignorance among Americans of one of the world’s very most prevalent religions is distressing to me, and I hope when I return I’ll be able to try to do something about it on a very small scale.

After a series of questions about Bush and his foreign policy (fairly standard ones that I get here), Hanife asked if I had any Muslim friends in the US. She wanted to hear their names. After I started saying some that I know (who aren’t Turkish and are in fact Black Muslims) I realized that this was not the answer she wanted. What she really wanted was to know if I had any Turkish friends. Now, largely it seems to me that my Turkish friends in the US would not necessarily categorize themselves off the bat primarily as Muslim. They’d be more likely to identify a national heritage rather than a religious one. This was a telling moment for me: young Hanife’s first point of identity was her faith rather than her national identity. Many other Turks I’ve met at this point would, I think, cite national identity first. I need to do a lot more thinking about this in light of many of my experiences. But religion here strikes me as such a dividing issue: a few of my acquaintances here at METU saw one of my photos from Mardin, three girls with scarves and Korans, returning from their koranic lessons. For me, as an outsider, that photo strikes me as a representation of the way some people – many people – here live. But the METU people clucked and shook their heads and showed dismay. One woman said, “They’re getting brainwashed.” Another said that Turkey was more “modern” – i.e. less Islamic – a few decades ago. The image, for them, was troubling. I just don’t know how this fundamental division will play out over the next few years in this country.

For me, my experiences at the dinner with definitely the most devout people I met caused me to feel largely the exact same way I feel when I am amongst devout Christians. Although the specific religion was different, the way I felt and the feel radiating from them was largely the same (if anything I felt these folks were more open to other faiths than some Christians I’ve met.). If only people could focus on what’s in common rather than what’s different.

After the meal, the girls readied themselves for the full prayer; they had me sit on the sofa and rest while, in small clusters, they left the room and disappeared for a few minutes. I heard the sound of splashing water as they washed themselves, and I noticed that Isil, one of the uncovered girls, switched out of her jeans and Penn State sweatshirt into a long skirt and headscarf.

For a few hours, we continued to chat and drink tea. They asked about my family and pointed out the ring on my finger, questioning it because they said the ring indicated I’m married but I’d said I’m not. For a moment I felt a bit of panic – being caught in a lie in this circumstance struck me as a bit tricky. But I honestly explained why I have the ring and told them that I sometimes say I am married to keep men from making assumptions when I am alone. They wholeheartedly approved; several even clapped. They seemed even more pleased with me after this, especially the mother. It seemed a mark of my wholesomeness – I’m not one of those dangerous, sinning Westerners.

I didn’t leave until after 10; they walked me to the dolmus and told the driver where to let me off. I agreed to call the next day and perhaps meet them on campus. All in all an interesting evening.

I neglected to mention that my first night in Trabzon, Trabzonspor won a big match, and so the main square was filled with groups of revelers and cars honking and waving flags as they cruised around. I walked out there briefly to check it out, but decided to return to the hotel when people started shooting off guns in celebration. Fenerbahce in Istanbul won a championship that same night and similar (well, larger) scenes were being shown on TV there at the same time. But the next morning when I asked the hotel owner about it, he was very firm that the celebration in Trabzon was for Trabzonspor’s win.