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To set off an adventure like ours, you have to be willing to take some heat. Many of your friends and family will question your sanity and some will doubt your ability to follow through on your plans. We never allowed the skeptics to stand in our way and got used to the “you must be crazy” looks whenever we discussed the trip outside the safety of our own home. One of the first questions critics continue to ask is “But what about school?” Well, what about school? At home, school is a building where the kids spend their days learning facts and skills that will help them enter adulthood. On the road, school is a round the clock, everchanging experience, a 7-day-a-week field trip that teaches them more about the world and themselves than they could ever learn at home. We make sure that in the down times they are completing their core subject work, the big boys through BYU online courses and the little ones with us, but the rest of the time the world is their learning laboratory. By experiencing it first hand, they are gaining an appreciation for peoples, politics, cultures, and history most adults never do. They are also learning that the world is not something to be feared but rather to be embraced. They now know that just because something is difficult doesn’t mean it can’t be done and just because something seems foreign or uncomfortable doesn’t mean you can’t learn to love it (or at least tolerate it).

For those who still might argue their education is deficient, I offer three days in the life of the Andrus kids. After leaving Ephesus, one of the world’s largest Roman ruins, they took in another series of ancient sites surrounding the city of Bergama, known long ago as Pergamum. The Greco-Roman complex perched on the hilltop reminded us that great advances in art and scholarship occurred thousands of years before we were born and more than a millennium before Shakespeare, Newton, and DaVinci. At the base of the hill they walked the perimeter of the Red Basilica, once a temple to the Egyptian god Serapis, and widely believed to be the building John deemed “the seat of Satan” in the Bible’s Book of Revelations. He also singled it out as one of the Seven Churches of the Apocalypse, a heavy distinction borne out by its current creepy vibe. A few more kilometers down the road, they saw the Asklepion, the world’s first psychiatric hospital and onetime home to Galen, a pioneering surgeon of the second century whose techniques were thousands of years before his time.

Their classical civilizations lesson for the day was complete, but this particular site presented a lesson in modern history as well. Situated in the cusp of a narrow, shallow canyon, it is flanked by a full-on military base. Signs warn visitors that taking pictures is forbidden and serve as a not so subtle reminder that Turkey sits smack dab in the middle of one of the most politically and militarily volatile regions in the world. When McKane was back home in school, one of his teachers swore Guam was in the Caribbean. He’ll never make such a mistake. He knows Iraq and Armenia are across the border to the east and Bulgaria is to the north. He knows the military is currently threatening to flex its muscles against the government if the possible president takes a religious stance in this country that has been stolidly secular since Ataturk proclaimed it so in the 1920’s.
Pergamum was just a stop on the way to an even more significant destination for the Andrus kids: the ruins of the legendary city of Homer’s epic poem, The Iliad, the place where men believe Helen gazed across the Aegean longing for her Greek home, or if you believe the Brad Pitt/Orlando Bloom version, fearing her return to her husband King Menelaus. For centuries scholars doubted the existence of Troy and shrugged off the Trojan War as lore. But in the late nineteenth century, Heinrich Schliemann, a fervent amateur historian and archaeologist, believed he had figured out the location based on Homer’s descriptions. He started digging in northwestern Turkey and when his site proved barren moved to another archaeologists’ site not far away. What he unearthed and partially destroyed over the next 20 years were the ruins of not one but 9 different cities, each a different iteration of Troy covering a different period of history. Some scholars now claim that the 400 year gap between Troy VII and Troy VIII points to a decimation of the population such as caused by natural disaster or war…specifically THE Trojan War.

Whatever you believe about the site, The Iliad remains of the world’s greatest epic poems, if not the greatest. Both Dax and McKane read it in 6th grade (3 years ago for Dax and this year for Mac) and could create vivid depictions of the once great city-state in their minds as we ambled the jumbled ruins. This was difficult since there was little left and like Ephesus, the shoreline has moved many miles to the west after millenia of silt deposit. Oddly enough, the highlight for many visitors, including the busloads of Korean and Japanese tourists we encountered, is the replica Trojan horse built in the 1970s. We joined in for some photographic fun before heading off for our next destination, a site that even though only an hour and a half away from these ancient ruins would catapult our history lesson into the twentieth century.
We spent the night at a fabulous new boutique hotel, the Abydos, in Cannakale and then took the ferry across the Dardanelles to the famed battlefields of Gallipoli. I thought Dax, our resident military historian who has a penchant for World War I, would be the most absorbed by the site, but it was the older members of our group who found it more compelling. Like all good students, we started our field trip at the information center, where we giggled at the silly plaques that explained the history through a poppy flower mascot.

From there we drove Captain Starex (our rented Hyundai van) out to one of the most visited sites, the ANZAC landing point. We had read that the peninsula was worth visiting strictly for its natural beauty and this spot quickly confirmed that. Bright red plastic stadium seats blocked the view but we forgave their intrusion on the landscape given that a few days later there would be a sunrise service commemorating the landing of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC troops). ANZAC Day is a national holiday in both distant countries, and each year thousands of Kiwis and Aussies make the pilgrimage to Turkey to honor their forefathers’ wartime sacrifice.

The battles that raged on the peninsula for eight months were horrific for both sides, and the Allies and Turks collectively lost over 200,000 thousand men on the beautiful, rolling hills. No matter where we drove, we found cemeteries and memorials marking the locations where men had fallen, poignant reminders of the cost of war. Probably because of our Western origins, the simple crosses and stone walls resonated more with us than the bright yellow stucco Turkish constructions. Though we naturally gravitated toward the Allied memorials, we visited the Turkish ones as well.

We wondered how modern day Turks feel about the continuous stream of foreigners whose forefathers shed so much Turkish blood but quickly found our answer in the words of Ataturk, who first gained fame as a commander on the fields of Gallipoli.

Those heroes that shed their blood
and lost their lives;
You are now lying in the soil of a friendly country.
Therefore rest in peace.
There is no difference between the Johnnies
and the Mehemets to us where they lie side by side
here in this country of ours.
You, the mothers,
who sent their sons from far away countries,
wipe away your tears;
your sons are now lying in our bosom
and are at peace.
After having lost their lives on this land they have
become our sons as well.

What a moving lesson in healing and forgiveness for our kids, one that will hopefully influence them in the way they approach the world as adults. I don’t know how they could have learned it more effectively in school.

Technorati Tags: Asklepion, Cannakale, Family travel, Gallipoli, Pergamum, Red Basilica, Round the world, Round-the-world, RTW, Troy, Turkey

Greece is the home of many ancient civilizations, so it has many artifacts. So many that if you dig a hole in the areas not close to cities, you’ll probably find one. On our 6 hour visit to the Greek island of Samos, we went to one museum, a grocery store, and sat on some stairs and talked about politics. In the museum there were two exhibits that really caught my eye. The first one was a big, huge statue called a kourus. It was a couple thousand years old and found in an area that once was the garden of an ancient civilian. It’s about 5 meters tall (15 feet), missing both feet, one just above the shin and one right above the knee.

The second one was 248 gold coins, 2 gold rings, and a pair of golden earrings all found in one jug. If you’ve read my previous coin posts, then you know how much I love coins. There was no information about them, so I had to ask a guy who worked there. He told me that they were Byzantine and that they were found on the shore of the island. I have a Byzantine coin that dad got me in Cappadocia along with some Greek and Roman ones. We’re still debating if they’re fake or real, but they aren’t gold. The last thing about the coins is that they were all different, sort of like the terracota warriors. They all had soldiers on one side with different faces and beards, and on the other side there was a cross.

I got real excited at the thought of finding something like that and how much fun it would be to take them home, and what a great addition to my coin collection it would be. But then mom shot it right out of the sky. She told me that if I didn’t find it on my property, then I couldn’t keep it. After we left the museum, I was on a mission to get euro coins. There’s a 2 euro, 1 euro, 50 cents, 20 cents, 10 cents, 5 cents, 2 cents, and a 1 cent. To my surprise all the countries that use the euro have different coins. They’re the same size but have different designs! I always thought that all the euro coins were the same, and that they replaced all the coins I could have collected if there was no euro. But I guess it’s not that bad if each country can have their own set. Another surprise is that all the euro coins can be used in any country in the EU. So when we were in Greece, I got some Netherlands euro coins and French ones as well. A really funny thing though is that after 6 hours in Greece, I had more euro coins than I had Turkish coins. So now I’m finding and buying bunches of old Turkish coins since Turkey has had so many different kinds of coins over the past 60 years. Well, gotta go find some more!

(Note from Mom: I hate to be the one to “shoot things out of the sky,” but poor Mac had Schliemann-like visions of making a grand discovery and hauling his loot home. We had to inform him of the laws regarding trespassing and the removal of ancient artifacts from their countries of origin. We may not be able to find a pot of golden treasure, but we’ll keep helping him build his coin collection by legal means.)

Technorati Tags: Coin Collecting, coins, Coins, Family travel, Greece, Greece, Kouros, Kuorros, Round the world, Round-the-world, RTW, Samos, Turkey

If ever I were in charge of a large civilization and wanted to expand my territory, Turkey would be at the top of my list of potential conquests. It is uniquely located, the gateway to Asia or Europe depending on which way you are heading; the landscapes are scenic enough to keep you interested as you march through, and the fresh produce is delectable. Of course, I would not be the first person to lead my army across the Anatolian plains. Since the dawn of recorded history, this region has been traversed, conquered, and lost. if the inhabitants don’t like their current occupier, they need only wait a couple hundred years and a new one will pass through. All these conquerors and civilizations make leading one’s family across Turkey much more interesting, as it truly is the crossroads of history.

I have long looked forward to visiting Turkey. Two of its wonders have been at the top of my list of places to visit for years. The first is the Hagia Sophia in Istanbul. This building has sparked my imagination since I took an art history class during my first semester of college. In a booming Ivy league baritone, our ancient professor, perhaps the world’s preeminent scholar on architecture, gushed effusively about this building. He spent an entire lecture enlightening us on the wonders of this marvelous sacred space and the profound influence it would have on the great cathedrals to be constructed 700-1000 years later. The second is Ephesus. This well-preserved Roman city was once a hotbed of activity for the early Christian church. Both Paul and John spent significant time here and the inhabitants of this city were the recipients of a letter from Paul later to become the book of Ephesians in the New Testament. Little did I know that these sites would be only the beginning of the history we would brush up against in our short time in Turkey.

Initially we had hoped to be in Ephesus for Easter, but we delayed our visit so we could have Grandma and Grandpa with us. This was a wise decision, since it turned out to be a highlight for all of us. The grandparents barely had time to recover from their 4 flights and 36 hours of traveling before we had them exploring Ephesus. We couldn’t have picked a better day. Spring has just sprung in coastal Turkey. The flowers are blooming and the heat we had heard others complain about is still a good month or two away. We took this lovely weather as a reason to slowly peruse the ruins. The three younger kids led the way as they climbed and jumped from what Asher called “launchers.”

We explored whole sections of the ruins that were not well traversed. The grass growing on the paths was our first sign that possibly we had stepped out of bounds. The chains and the “Do Not Enter” sign we approached from the wrong side confirmed our suspicions of trespassing. But much like a skier at the bottom of an out of area bowl, we shrugged and considered ourselves double lucky, once to have experienced it and second not to have been caught. After foraying out of bounds, we sat down in front of the library facade and had a nice lunch of feta, figs, dried apricots, walnuts and olives.

We sat for a long time and talked about the history of the site and enjoyed watching the various nationalities of tourists who passed through. After about an hour we got moving again and made it about 100 yards down the path to the large auditorium. Again we sat and watched as different groups found their own ways to enjoy the ruins. Some passed through quickly, herded through their by their tour guides, and bobbed their heads trying to quickly absorb all the theater had to offer. Others ran the stairs and celebrated with Rocky-like triumph as they reached the top. The most interesting however was the Turkish dignitary. Moments before a small group of “important” people entered the auditorium, a group of muscular men wearing dark suits and earpieces ran onto the stage and assumed watchful positions at the different exits.The important men stood around for a few moments and then made moves to the exit. The secret service men sprang into action and ran to better advance positions. All the while we sat and chatted, speculating as to the identity of those being guarded.

As we walked out of the ruins, we talked about how different life was 2000 years ago and how much things have changed. We stared down the street that headed to the old harbor. The water was gone. The silting process has now moved the ocean a good mile off into the distance, but the colonnade was still there with its rock path and large pillars on either side. Blocking our way was a big “Gilmiriz” (Turkish for Do Not Enter) sign. Another trespassing adventure crossed our minds, but with more Roman, Greek, Trojan, and even an Australian site to come, we didn’t press our luck and instead headed down the prescribed exit path.With all the Turkish police and secret service people running around, it was definitely a good idea to march along with the throngs of Korean and Japanese tourists.

Technorati Tags: Ephesus, Family travel, Roman ruins, Round the world, Round-the-world, RTW, Turkey

We’ve been a little sneaky lately. We like to delay our posts by at least a week for a few reasons: 1) it helps us avoid potential stalkers and 2) we need a little time to process our experiences before writing about them. Given this usual delay, you might not know that Tom’s parents joined us just about a week ago in Izmir, Turkey. Aaaaaahhhhhh, grandparents. What could be better than adding two fun, vibrant people who love our kids to our traveling posse? Perhaps adding four or even six…but unfortunately my parents weren’t available this week.

To understand what their presence means to us, I should introduce you to my in-laws. Lou, Tom’s dad, is a giant among men, both literally and figuratively. A 6′6″ former pro football player, he cuts an intimidating figure on the outside but couldn’t be kinder or gentler on the inside. He would walk to the ends of earth and back for his family and in his retirement years has proven an invaluable member of our extended parenting team. Twice he has flown to Atlanta to take care of the kids: once while I took a research trip for a book I was writing and another while Tom and I took a work-related cruise. I don’t know too many 60+ year old men who could singlehandedly change diapers, cook meals, clean house, and manage homework for four kids for seven days without a) being institutionalized or b) burning down the house, but Lou came through with flying colors. He even tackled a long list of handyman projects I had accumulated that neither Tom nor I could ever seem to complete.

Tom’s mom, Lorelie, is a force of nature unlike any other. At a petite 5′2″ (the perfect height we share), she is the perfect complement to her towering husband. A soon to be retired high school multimedia/commercial art/video production teacher, she packs enough energy, creativity, and enthusiasm into her small frame to fuel the entire family. People often ask why I take the kids to Utah for six weeks every summer. My answer: Camp Grandma. In Lorelie’s company, every day is a new adventure, a new experience, a new endeavor in family bonding. Tom and I had to check out of our normal lives and take the kids thousands of miles around the globe to replicate what Lorelie is able to accomplish daily at home. Whether it’s shooting a family movie, hiking a nearby mountain, painting miniature metal warriors, planting a flowerbed, or assembling an obstacle course in the backyard, she is selfless with her time and tireless in her efforts to make things both fun and meaningful for those around her. In fact, as I write this from a cozy corner of my Istanbul hotel room, she is 10 feet away playing a fierce game of “Don’t Eat Pete” with Kieran and Asher.

Getting the grandparents here wasn’t easy. We loaded them up with requests for luxury items from home–things like No More Tangles spray, Eastern Europe guidebooks, Skippy peanut butter, boxer shorts, and skull caps for the South American winter–which kept them busy for weeks. When they finally took a pause in their shopping duties, they realized that one of them might not even be coming. Though both had applied for their passports well in advance of their departure date and even paid the expedite fee to speed the process, the State Department had somehow managed to bungle Lou’s application. After a dozen calls and as many different versions of what had happened to it, he correctly concluded the Passport Agency had lost it. So on the day before his flight to Turkey, he flew from Salt Lake City to Denver to submit a new application and receive his passport in person. He got back to Utah by midnight which afforded him just enough time to go home, finish packing his bag, and return to the airport at 6:00 am.

Despite the chaos and 29 hours of flights and layovers, Lou and Lorelie arrived in Izmir with smiles on their faces, supplies in their suitcases, and energy to spare for their long lost grandkids. From the moment we herded them into our rented van, our already fulfilling trip has become even richer, even funnier, even happier. None of us can keep up with Lorelie, who consistently functions on four hours of sleep, but as long as we’re all awake, we’re laughing, learning, and building memories. A favorite game has become, “Let’s get Grandpa to talk like an old guy.” The strategy is to subtly provoke Grandpa to slip into generational idiom speak. Unpleasantly surprising him can lead to a “What in the Sam Hill?” while bugging him can bring on a particularly emphatic, “Good night nurse.” Beating him at a hand of Briscola is certain to elicit a rousing “Son of a Gun.”

Grandma is always good for a game of Uno, Go Fish, or charades, and will stay up until 3:00 am reminiscing or telling stories about our family history. McKane has been amazed to learn that his great great great grandmother dated Jesse James, his great grandpa was an avid coin and stamp collector, and he (McKane) liked to flirt with women on the Santa Monica Third Street Promenade when he was a toddler.

Asher and Kieran have perhaps benefited the most as both grandparents are an easy mark for buying popsicles and tchotchkes and prove willing to carry tired little people through ancient ruins and city streets alike.Tom and I made it clear from the beginning that everyone would have to toughen up and self propel for the duration of the trip, but one look at Asher’s face after scoring a ride from a grandparent reveals that no one filled the older generation in on this rule.

The past week has been one of the best of our lives and certainly one we will never forget. Enlarging our family circle (and pyramid) for a short time has reinforced our primary purpose in leaving it all behind for a year: strengthening our family. And while we would love to become “Eight in the World” rather than “Six,” Spring Break is coming to an end and Lorelie’s students are eagerly awaiting her return.

Technorati Tags: Bonding, Family travel, Round the world, Round-the-world, RTW, Travel, Turkey

Irony is a cruel teacher. I composed the last post about Esbelli Evi from a basement room in the Eris Pansiyon in Assos on the Aegean Coast. Little did I know as I gushed about the wonderful setting and impeccable service in Cappadocia that an hour later I would be arguing with the proprietors of my current hotel and having a distinctly different experience. Before I begin to rant, I should emphasize that much of the blame for the argument rests with me. I apparently misunderstood the owners on the night we arrived, a mistake that cost us $150 in the end (a huge amount on our tight 11-month budget). What was so discouraging about the experience was that we, the customers, were made to feel as if we had somehow inconvenienced the proprietors and bore sole responsibility for the misunderstanding. The difference in attitude from Cappadocia where we were appreciated as the raison d’etre for the establishment and afforded every courtesy could not be starker.

So here’s the story. After spending four nights in fabulous, inexpensive hotels with Tom’s parents (more details on those days to come later), we faced a long travel day and did not know where we would be ending up. We played it by ear and at 9:30 pm pulled up to the Eris Pansiyon, the first hotel we encountered in the small seaside village of Assos. I had read in the Lonely Planet that the rooms were “fairly ordinary” but that the owners were American, and I thought it would be nice to learn their story. Lou (Tom’s dad) and I went in to check things out. The small stone buildings looked cozy and the owners, a retired couple from Long Island, seemed personable. They quoted us a rate much higher than our standard, but I was willing to live with it in exchange for a quaint, intimate experience. They showed us two small basement rooms–one that slept 4 people and another that slept 3 (Asher doesn’t need her own bed). Here’s where the misunderstanding comes in. They explained the rates for the rooms, which were steep given their condition, but they promised a good breakfast and a pleasant setting. I assumed that the rates were inclusive for 7 people, the number of people the rooms were designed to accommodate. They went on to explain that normally they charge 20 Euro for an extra person, a price that “barely covers the cost of breakfast,” but that Kieran and Asher would be free. I figured this meant we’d just pay the price of the rooms and consider ourselves lucky to not have to pay the extra person fee for our eighth person. What they really meant was we would have to pay 20 Euro ($27 going on $40) each for Dax and McKane, but I wouldn’t discover that until the next morning.

I should have sensed that things might get difficult when the husband asked that we please all have our eggs the same way so as to make things easier for his wife, who also served as the cook. Or when the wife explained that the heaters would not warm the frigid rooms until after we had left the following day. Or that when we opened the bathroom doors, we were assaulted by a strong sewer smell. The breakfast thing turned out all right, as the wife proved willing to make more than one style of egg and was a proficient chef. The cold thing was tough since the extra blankets they brought were so musty they sent three of us into sneezing fits. The sewer thing wasn’t unbearable, but none of us showered out of fear of acquiring the stink on our person. (Lorelie, Tom’s mom, burned a Harvest scented Yankee candle all night which she had brought from the States for just such a scenario.)

To be fair, the rooms were clean, but the beds were the worst we’ve had thus far in Turkey; they made a plastic crinkle noise when we rolled over and we could feel the springs in our backs. We’re not spoiled and are more than willing to suffer to save a buck…or a Euro…or a lira. What we’re not willing to do is pay a premium for lackluster accommodations that leave you with a kink in your spine.

The next morning, after a poor sleep, we found some compensation in the hearty, tasty breakfast the wife prepared for 7 of us. According to their “barely cover the cost” calculations, it cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $200 to prepare, so perhaps this shouldn’t have been a surprise. When we went to check out, the husband produced a handwritten receipt and quoted his figure in Euros, lira and dollars. When I saw the number, my jaw dropped. “No,” I gasped. It’s supposed to be 40 Euros less” (still a high price for what we had gotten). “We were very clear with you last night,” both husband and wife replied. “I don’t think so. I never would have agreed if I had known that was the price,” I sputtered as I tried to catch my breath. It was like I had been hit by a freight train. The amount they were charging would have paid for 2-1/2 nights in any of the other lovely places we’ve stayed throughout Turkey. As I reeled, Lou started counting out dollars from his wallet and Tom started coming unglued. “That’s just ridiculous,” he exclaimed. After more than 230 nights on the road in 19 countries, we know value when we encounter it and this wasn’t value…this seemed more like extortion.

Tom was prepared to pay what he thought was fair and walk away, a usual and necessary practice in many developing nations where vendors often abandon agreed upon prices, but Lou and I wouldn’t allow it. I felt bewildered and Lou felt obliged to eat my misunderstanding. I freely admit my role in the misunderstanding, but I expected the owners to apologize for the confusion rather than blame me for it, especially since the way they were charging us differed from anything we’ve encountered in Turkey or any other country thus far. Rather than offering to meet us halfway or even forgive the disputed $50, a gesture many customer-focused owners would extend, they simply said, “That’s the rate. Sorry.”

As we paid the hefty total, each tried to explain the reasons for the rate. The wife argued that since she holds a master’s degree, her “labor isn’t cheap.” The husband explained that since “Assos is an expensive town” property values mandate high prices. The former is simply a bizarre contention and we dismissed it as such. The latter we would have accepted had we not stopped at the next place down the road, just a stone’s throw away, and discovered we could have gotten three decent rooms instead of two, much better bathrooms, and breakfast for one third (that’s 67% less) of the price. Apparently these folks hadn’t gotten the memo about Assos being expensive. A little more persistence and we could have saved some serious cash. Ouch!

Next time we’ll be sure to shop around.

Technorati Tags: Assos, Family travel, Hotels, Round the world, Round-the-world, RTW, Turkey

We have now been on the road for 235 days. That’s a long time to be away from your own bed, your own kitchen, your own bathroom. Personally, I love the nomadic life, but perhaps that’s because I’m the one that bears the bulk of the responsibility for maintaining our domicile back in Atlanta. To me that bunch of rooms, while comfortable and lovely, represent a lot of work; to the rest of the family they represent home.

We’ve been surprised to discover that home, while thousands of miles away, can also be found on the road. There are certain places we’ve stayed that just feel right, like we belong. For the most part they have been backpackers’ hostels and lodges, places lacking in luxury but oozing in friendship and familiarity. The kids have perhaps never been happier than they were in Capetown, playing with Cheese the goat, watching the Cricket World Cup and swapping stories with fellow travelers, and sleeping in a tent at SaltyCrax. They still enjoy luxury, and a healthy dose of Sheraton (aaaaahhhhhhh) is an Andrus necessity, but big hotels afford a privacy that isolates us from people and the cultures we are trying to immerse ourselves in. Imagine our delight then, when in Cappadocia, we found a place that offered camaraderie and comfort, informality and luxury, and to top it all off, was in a cave!

While in Istanbul, I told Tom a few nights in a cave hotel could be a highlight of our time in Turkey, but he was skeptical. He envisioned cheesy, modern facilities swamped by tour busses, but my instincts told me otherwise. Two different sources had tipped me off to a hotel in Urgup that was not just a place but an experience. Though the price was higher than our normal budget, for once I was willing to splurge. We took a two day tour that included one night in a different hotel, which was adequate, but when we made our way across town to the Esbelli Evi, we knew that we had found our place.

Softspoken owner, Suha Ersoz, welcomed us warmly and showed us a vacant suite that was a vision of heaven. Soft yellow stone walls flanked by warm wooden ceilings, wrought iron beds wrapped in fluffy white pillows and duvets, a glistening antique refrigerator, elegant yet understated Turkish kilims lining gently creaking hardwood floors, and fountain showerheads adorning two gorgeous travertine bathrooms. The suite was way out of range but Suha explained that he had two adjoining rooms that would be available the following day. When he quoted the price for each, we explained that we could probably fit into one if he would allow us to. Instead, he offered us both rooms for the price of one. Our love affair with the Esbelli Evi had begun.

When we arrived the next evening after our tour, we wandered the building, which is actually a group of buildings, and were dazzled by what we found. The kids didn’t make it beyond the rooms, where Suha had installed a wireless network for us, but Tom and I discovered modern washing machines in a stone courtyard, shelves upon shelves of fascinating books and music CDs in the common rooms, breathtaking valley views from the dining terrace, and a fully functional, well-stocked kitchen at our disposal. Never before had we found such a perfect blend of all our basic needs in an affordable yet sumptuous setting.

We decided to stay two nights and would have stayed much longer if not for the need to get to Izmir to pick up Tom’s parents a few days later. For the next 48 hours we nestled into our warm little caves and and emerged only for the most pleasant of diversions–eating, taking a leisurely stroll into the village, and visiting with Suha. Our rooms were toasty in the cool Cappadocian spring and steeped in rich, fascinating history. I asserted my seniority and claimed the deepest cave, the walls of which were originally carved in the 4th or 5th century. As I relaxed on at least 300 thread count sheets, I stared at the walls and wondered who had inhabited them over the past 1500 years.

Backpacks brimming with fresh smelling, sun dried laundry and calm, peaceful smiles adorning our faces, we spent our last afternoon lounging in Esbelli Evi’s most beautiful lounge listening to classical music (Dax and McKane preferred the more modern strains of their iPods). Suha proved himself a family hero when Tom told him the little kids had left an open pen on one of the beds, leaving a 6 inch ink stain on the duvet cover. We were prepared to pay for the damage, but Suha told us not to worry. The kids could do something to repay him when we return next year!

The reality is that for our family, home is not a place, but a feeling that dwells within us and accompanies us wherever we go. This is comforting since we’ve lived in many places and will no doubt live in many more as the years go by. No matter where we go or where we live, however, a few magical places will evoke the feelings we call home–contentment, belonging, comfort, a sense that all will be right in the world–and hold a special place in our hearts. The Esbelli Evi in Urgup, Turkey is one of them.

Technorati Tags: Cappadocia, Cave hotels, Family travel, Home, Round the world, Round-the-world, RTW, Turkey

Turkey has some real strange old customs, that they only got rid of like 15 years ago. But the strangest one our guide told us in Cappadocia is the custom they had for marriage. Our group went into a room in a fairy chimney house that was used by the villagers only 10 years before. He started talking and then offered everyone tea. The tea was pretty expensive, but if you wanted to stay inside and listen you felt like you had to buy it. So most of the group left including Mom, Asher, and Kieran, but Kieran and Asher came back inside when they found out that we were all having apple tea. Before we drank our apple tea, the guide told us of how villagers used to get married. It’s pretty interesting, so here it is.

It all starts with getting to know all the boys in big meetings where they all drink tea and bond with each other. Wait a second, what the heck am I talking about? The girls and boys used to only *see* each-other (not talk), when they would go down to the well and get water for the house. There was no such thing as a free moment when the teenagers could bond with each other. They had to work all day; the men had to farm, and the girls would cook and make rugs. So how on earth did they decide they wanted to get married? Well, it starts with the girl. If she wants to get married, when she finishes her rug that she’s been making, she’ll hang it out the window. That tells all the young men that she’s ready to get married. Now if a young man was interested in a girl, he wouldn’t simply tell his family, “I want to get married to so and so. ” No, one night at dinner, he’d stick his spoon straight up in his cous cous. The whole family would get the message, and the old person of the house, like the grandma or grandpa, would go in a room and talk to the boy and see who he wanted to marry.

When the discussion was finished between the young and the old, the old would go out to the girl’s family and arrange a meeting between the families. When it reached the date of the family meeting, both the families would get together at the girl’s house. Because coffee is the drink of friendship, that is what they all would drink for the meeting. When all the coffees were made except for the boy’s, the girl would go into the kitchen and makes his. If she wanted to get married to him, she would put sugar in the coffee, if not, then she would put salt or pepper into it, if not both. When the boy took a sip, his family elder could see in his eyes what was in it. If the antiquated one got up, the rest of the boy’s family would also get up and leave. This meant that there was salt or pepper in the coffee. If the boy and the senior citizen stayed put, then there was sugar in the coffee, and the families could start planning the wedding.

This may not be all correct. I’m just typing this from memory, so if you find a mistake or anything, then please leave a comment and tell me what I did wrong. Now on with the post. After the guide told us about the custom, the shop owner brought out our apple tea and his coffee. The guide tasted it and said ” Dang, not again!” He told us that in his youth, he tasted salt three times before he tasted sugar. Then I think the funniest thing happened: an old lady (I think the one mentioned in my mom’s post) said that the old man next to him had sugar in his coffee. The look on his little surprised face was priceless. I still have a photographic memory of his face. That made the guide laugh, and he said, “Hey, the woman of the house likes you!” Just thinking of the old man’s face is making me laugh. Woo-wee! Well, I guess this ended up being another short one. I’m going to try and do something different next week for my post. Hey, maybe a poem!

Technorati Tags: Cappadocia, Family travel, Marriage customs, Fairy chimneys, Round the world, Round-the-world, RTW, Turkey, Turkish tea

If you haven’t figured it out yet, I usually do the posts on things that are, well, under par (except bungies). This week is NO EXCEPTION! Throughout our entire trip we’ve ridden buses. We’ve taken cross country busses, sleeper busses and the like. Coming into Turkey and finding busses to be the cheapest and easiest way to get around, we decided on taking them here as well. Our previous excursions on busses have been pleasant with the exception of the no a/c tour bus we were in for eleven hours in Vietnam. We took a bus to the mountains near Tibet. While some will say this was cramped and bumpy, I found it to be adequate. We then took a cross country bus from China to Vietnam. Once again all the basic needs were met. We took an incredible sleeper bus in Thailand, and although it wasn’t the most luxurious of busses, it was very fun. They played a hilarious Thai movie (well, we couldn’t understand it but can anything with a buff midget and a transvestite not be funny? I’m going to stop there.) Best of all the seats laid down like a bed. Yes, a bed. Nearly a full recline. As we learned a couple days ago, the Turks have a lot to learn from the Thais. Turkish busses may look nice and cozy on the outside (how could a Mercedes Benz be bad? Oh wait, Uncle Vito was a Mercedes), but there is little to love once you get inside. Asher was the first to learn that the seats only reclined to the point of an office chair. At first we thought maybe hers was broken. But of course, they were all like that. In a depressed state we leaned as far back as we could and watched in horror as a Turkish movie from the 60’s came on. Terrible acting, terrible story, terrible camera work (although it would make a good Mystery Science Theater 3000). The movie dragged on and on. We downed all the drinks we had and scarfed our rations of pretzel sticks. The lights finally went off as the movie started its second half and we all tried to sleep. In the extremely cramped space no one except Kieran and Asher could. We shuffled for hours trying to find a decent position to no avail. The bus stopped every three hours and everyone woke up every time it did. By morning the situation was blurry. Everyone was cramped like nobody’s business. Row partners McKane and mom seemed as if they were in a pretzel, Asher had ended up on dad’s lap, Kieran was half on the floor, and my head was rug burned from the coarse chair fabric. Struggling to get up we managed to make it off the bus with all our bags and onto the car to the hotel. When we got to the hotel we found out we would be bypassing breakfast and showers to go on a tour. The day from hell seemed only more complete when I was told that we would be doing this all again in three days.

Our second experience on a Turkish bus was no better than the first; in fact it was more problematic. We had tickets for everyone but Asher. (This is what they do when they say little kids are free. Instead of giving you a free ticket, they just say they don’t need a ticket.) We thought this might be a problem but were informed by a congenial manager that the bus was empty and there would be plenty of room for her to have her own seat. After a short ride on a nice bus we transfered to the lumbering behemoth that we’d be riding in. We took a few seats next to each other, not the ones on the tickets since there was already a Turkish guy taking up a few of them, but figured “it should be alright” like the man had said. We managed to keep our seats until the bus left. Then the steward came asking for tickets, and by looks of things, we knew it would be trouble. He snapped angrily at McKane who was sitting in the back of the bus by himself and yelled, “Ticket! Ticket!” Mac, a little shocked and not knowing what to do, shook his head. My mom told the man that she was his mother, but, of course, the man didn’t speak English. My mom held out the tickets and he snatched them from her. She reeled back with disgust and cringed. He looked at the tickets, looked at us, looked at the seats, looked at us, then the tickets. His face turned red and he yelled something in Turkish at us gesturing to the seats. Knowing what he meant but not wanting to move, we tried to explain to him that the man at the station said it would be alright. This angry dude would have nothing of it. He got a man who spoke English to tell us to move and after a futile effort to try maintain our seats we were up in another row. He did the same to everyone else, including the guy who had taken our seats and a poor lady who had to move to the front row behind the stinky driver and next to the frequently opening front door.

This time there was thankfully no Turkish butchery of cinema and we tried to rest. These chairs didn’t even go back as far as the others and the were considerably less comfortable. They made the other ones seem first class, and the Thai bus seem like a royal chariot. We all tried to sleep but it was impossible. The bus stopped every hour or so to pick up and drop people off. It was also much bumpier of a ride through the Turkish mountains and for some reason the driver refused to turn on the heat. I slept for maybe two hours before I heard the bus screech to a halt at the Antalya station. Once again we managed to get off without losing anything (at least we think, it’s only been a day so we’re not sure). We sat on a bench and half of us dozed off. I tried to flip off my shoe to find it stuck to my foot. I stuck my hand inside and felt something sticky in between the shoe and sock. I tried to rip whatever it was but I couldn’t get it. I finally tore the shoe off to find that I had somehow stepped in gum while wearing only my socks. It was all over the shoe and had ripped a hole in my sock. I shrugged, put it back on and walked to the taxi. The perfect ending to the perfect day.

Technorati Tags: Bus travel, Family Travel, Round the World, Round-the-world, RTW, Sleeper busses, Turkey