I spent today walking around Istanbul, just like I’ve done for the two previous days. Tuesday I saw the site of the old Roman Hippodrome with its 3,500 year old Egyptian Obelisk, the Sultanahmet Camii or “Blue Mosque”, the museum of the mosaics of Justinian’s Palace (6th century AD), the old great bazaar and adjacent market districts, the Galata Bridge (thronged with fishers), and finally the Galata Tower before riding the tram back to my hotel.
Wednesday I walked west past the site of the ruins of the forum of Theodosius, past Istanbul University, to stop in at the Kalenderhane Mosque which used to be a Byzantine church, then walked along the Valens Aqueduct (in used for over 1000 years until the 19th century), through another smaller market district and the Fatih Mosque complex, to the seat of the Orthodox Patriarch of Constantinople (the first-among equals among the heads of Orthodox Christian churches worldwide) in the Church of St. George, to the church of St. Mary of the Mongols (the only Byzantine church that was never converted to a mosque), through the (formerly) Greek neighborhood of Fener, past one of the Roman cisterns which now serves as a soccer stadium, to the still standing Walls of Theodosius, which are about four and a half kilometers from my hotel. I was able to mount a tower in a partially restored section of the walls near the Edirne Gate and enjoy a view of the city in every direction, it having spilled out of its old shell in the last century and grown thirty times in size. I walked along the old walls to a 13th century Byzantine palace, where I peered in the gate. The caretaker was standing nearby and told me that it was closed, but that he would let me in “special”. I got to walk all around the ruins of the grounds and the still-standing palace and tower, which are being restored and are due to open next year. That’s about all the information I could get from the caretaker, due to my total lack of Turkish and his very limited English. He wouldn’t let me take any pictures and refused a tip as I was leaving. From there I walked down to the waterfront along the Golden Horn, the famous harbor of the city. It occurred to me a moment too late to hop on the ferry that stopped nearby. I walked back towards the center until I hopped on a bus which went something like the right direction. After the bus turned away from my direction I still had about a kilometer walk through what turned out to be a luxury shopping district, with incredible displays of clothes and shoes down a semi-pedestrianized street. I was again quite tired when I got back.
Today I walked to the Hagia Sofia. After exasperating and costly confusion about the process for joining a tour group I ended up with a ridiculous, sleazy, not-particularly knowledgeable guide. Whatever it took to get in it was worth it. I spent about three hours in that wonderful building. All the things they say about it are true, the ceiling really does fell as though it’s floating above. You can feel the emperors and sultans in their, just as awed as everyone else. From the Hagia Sofia I walked through the great bazaar again and finished up my souvenir shopping. I walked up to the Suleymaniye Camii. It’s the second largest mosque in the city and generally considered to be the most perfect. I would concur with this assessment. After briefly visiting the tomb of Suleiman the Great I was fortunate to get into the mosque shortly before it was closed for the evening to visitors, and see the final light of the sun come in through the western windows. I walked down the hill towards the water, through a neighborhood of terrifyingly degraded old wooden houses. I bought fresh squeezed pomegranate juice for 35 cents and a kebab sandwich for 60 cents. Once I reached the harbor I hopped on a ferry, not knowing where it went. It was dusk, rush-hour, there were ferries going everywhere and I saw on the upper back deck and it was lovely. They served hot tea on the ferry for 45 cents. The ferry landed on the Asian side of the Bosphorus. I had some trouble finding a ferry that went back in the right direction, and ended up riding back quite a bit north on the European side then catching a bus and the tram back towards the hotel. Another long good day.
Wednesday I walked west past the site of the ruins of the forum of Theodosius, past Istanbul University, to stop in at the Kalenderhane Mosque which used to be a Byzantine church, then walked along the Valens Aqueduct (in used for over 1000 years until the 19th century), through another smaller market district and the Fatih Mosque complex, to the seat of the Orthodox Patriarch of Constantinople (the first-among equals among the heads of Orthodox Christian churches worldwide) in the Church of St. George, to the church of St. Mary of the Mongols (the only Byzantine church that was never converted to a mosque), through the (formerly) Greek neighborhood of Fener, past one of the Roman cisterns which now serves as a soccer stadium, to the still standing Walls of Theodosius, which are about four and a half kilometers from my hotel. I was able to mount a tower in a partially restored section of the walls near the Edirne Gate and enjoy a view of the city in every direction, it having spilled out of its old shell in the last century and grown thirty times in size. I walked along the old walls to a 13th century Byzantine palace, where I peered in the gate. The caretaker was standing nearby and told me that it was closed, but that he would let me in “special”. I got to walk all around the ruins of the grounds and the still-standing palace and tower, which are being restored and are due to open next year. That’s about all the information I could get from the caretaker, due to my total lack of Turkish and his very limited English. He wouldn’t let me take any pictures and refused a tip as I was leaving. From there I walked down to the waterfront along the Golden Horn, the famous harbor of the city. It occurred to me a moment too late to hop on the ferry that stopped nearby. I walked back towards the center until I hopped on a bus which went something like the right direction. After the bus turned away from my direction I still had about a kilometer walk through what turned out to be a luxury shopping district, with incredible displays of clothes and shoes down a semi-pedestrianized street. I was again quite tired when I got back.
Today I walked to the Hagia Sofia. After exasperating and costly confusion about the process for joining a tour group I ended up with a ridiculous, sleazy, not-particularly knowledgeable guide. Whatever it took to get in it was worth it. I spent about three hours in that wonderful building. All the things they say about it are true, the ceiling really does fell as though it’s floating above. You can feel the emperors and sultans in their, just as awed as everyone else. From the Hagia Sofia I walked through the great bazaar again and finished up my souvenir shopping. I walked up to the Suleymaniye Camii. It’s the second largest mosque in the city and generally considered to be the most perfect. I would concur with this assessment. After briefly visiting the tomb of Suleiman the Great I was fortunate to get into the mosque shortly before it was closed for the evening to visitors, and see the final light of the sun come in through the western windows. I walked down the hill towards the water, through a neighborhood of terrifyingly degraded old wooden houses. I bought fresh squeezed pomegranate juice for 35 cents and a kebab sandwich for 60 cents. Once I reached the harbor I hopped on a ferry, not knowing where it went. It was dusk, rush-hour, there were ferries going everywhere and I saw on the upper back deck and it was lovely. They served hot tea on the ferry for 45 cents. The ferry landed on the Asian side of the Bosphorus. I had some trouble finding a ferry that went back in the right direction, and ended up riding back quite a bit north on the European side then catching a bus and the tram back towards the hotel. Another long good day.
I am exceedingly fortunate to get to spend my birthday in such a special place. This is my thirtieth birthday. A decade spent wandering comes to a close at the navel of the world. I have lived in many places, I have held many jobs, visited many cities. I have had a few lovers as well. It has been a restless ten years.
That’s how I wanted it. In my youth I spent my time thinking of far away places in old parts of the world (and other planets). When I read Kerouac it was so exciting partly because it was empowering: I could travel, simply, and take pleasure and learn from the simple things, the land, the buildings, the cities, the streets and buses, the music, the booze, the bus-stations and train terminals at the wrong hour of night.
I started travelling a little more than ten years ago when I took off from my house-painting job to go visit Calli in California on the train in July, 2006. A few months later I set out across the country, making it from Seattle to Boston by way of bus, train, rides with family and hitching, then flew home on the generosity of my mother. I spent the rest of that fall working at the grocery store, working at the coffee roasterie, delivering newspapers, baking bread, reading Walden, and killing English Ivy in the woods. (I played computer games and watched the Daily Show then too.)
The next summer I went to Korea with Calli and her dad, to teach English, learn to ride a motorcycle, visit Buddhist temples, and make out on basalt cliffs at dusk while the lights of the squid fishing fleet appeared one by one on the horizon.
The next spring I went to the Dominican Republic where I learned to speak Spanish, dance, and drink rum. I played chess with Andrew Shaw Kitch in the shade by the blue Caribbean water, and drank beer and rum, and talked about rock and roll, and danced in the shelter of overlapping awnings with Dominican women on a rainy night in Rio San Juan.
I graduated graduated from college and my father financed a trip to visit Erika in Cuenca, Ecuador. We ate mangoes and avocados and walked through waterfalls and then back to town in the warm night sounds of the forest while glow worms dangled from the branches. We hunted for mushrooms and then ate them on the side of a mountain, and got lost, and then found, and rode with a woman along crazy mountain roads in the real fog as we tried to remember who we were and how to speak Spanish and how we got to South America on the way back to the city.
I joined Americorps the next summer with other city kids and we went into the Oregon woods and learned to use chainsaws and got rained on and smelled bad and cooked for each other.
After our term of service was up I travelled south and east over land with a backpack like I had four years before. I ended up in Lincoln, Nebraska, where I stayed with my old friend Brendan and met a young woman with beautiful big brown cow eyes.
I joined the Peace Corps towards the end of that winter and I went to Paraguay for the next two and one third years. I lived with families, had a house, built a wood stove, taught kids to read, fell in love, got run out of town, had a new house, built a new woodstove, and helped start a library. I got to know lovely people, got to feel at home in that country, and then I left and crossed the big Chaco wasteland, went up over the Andes and down the coast of Chile to Santiago before I flew home.
I came back to Vashon and slept in a comfortable bed, drank coffee, walked the beach and spent time around colorful people. I went to a wedding out East and saw New York city again and upstate and was with old friends from South America. I eventually found a job worth doing and applied to graduate school and didn’t really get in but started taking classes anyway.
I graduated graduated from college and my father financed a trip to visit Erika in Cuenca, Ecuador. We ate mangoes and avocados and walked through waterfalls and then back to town in the warm night sounds of the forest while glow worms dangled from the branches. We hunted for mushrooms and then ate them on the side of a mountain, and got lost, and then found, and rode with a woman along crazy mountain roads in the real fog as we tried to remember who we were and how to speak Spanish and how we got to South America on the way back to the city.
I joined Americorps the next summer with other city kids and we went into the Oregon woods and learned to use chainsaws and got rained on and smelled bad and cooked for each other.
After our term of service was up I travelled south and east over land with a backpack like I had four years before. I ended up in Lincoln, Nebraska, where I stayed with my old friend Brendan and met a young woman with beautiful big brown cow eyes.
I joined the Peace Corps towards the end of that winter and I went to Paraguay for the next two and one third years. I lived with families, had a house, built a wood stove, taught kids to read, fell in love, got run out of town, had a new house, built a new woodstove, and helped start a library. I got to know lovely people, got to feel at home in that country, and then I left and crossed the big Chaco wasteland, went up over the Andes and down the coast of Chile to Santiago before I flew home.
I came back to Vashon and slept in a comfortable bed, drank coffee, walked the beach and spent time around colorful people. I went to a wedding out East and saw New York city again and upstate and was with old friends from South America. I eventually found a job worth doing and applied to graduate school and didn’t really get in but started taking classes anyway.
I signed up for a study trip to Oaxaca, Mexico, where we ate non-hallucinogenic mushrooms in a mountain village and learned about old ways.
I got into grad school. I found a strange old warehouse to live in with other strange people. I decorated my room with a tie-dye lace tablecloth, an oriental rug, the words of Whitman, old shells and bottle caps and pictures of saints and a bottle of wine with a picture of a girl on it. I got a grant to come to Europe, where I got to do work that I thought was interesting and use skills that I felt good at.
These last ten years I have worked as an after school/summer-camp teacher, a community engagement coordinator, a pedicab driver, a Unitarian Sunday school teacher, a dendro-chronology lab technician and project manager, a freelance weed-puller and hole-digger, a Peace Corps volunteer (which is twelve jobs in itself), an Americorps member, a Salvation Army bell-ringer, a house-painter, a reading tutor, a groundskeeping assistant, an English teacher, a roastmaster’s assistant, a newspaper deliverer, a grocery bagger, a projectionist and theater cashier in something like that order. I love to learn how to do a new thing and to work in a new place. I have worked, but I have not earned my keep. I have amassed massive loan debt and relied often on the stability and generosity of others, especially my parents. If the measure of adulthood is to be able to cover your costs and more, I have yet to reach it.
I got into grad school. I found a strange old warehouse to live in with other strange people. I decorated my room with a tie-dye lace tablecloth, an oriental rug, the words of Whitman, old shells and bottle caps and pictures of saints and a bottle of wine with a picture of a girl on it. I got a grant to come to Europe, where I got to do work that I thought was interesting and use skills that I felt good at.
These last ten years I have worked as an after school/summer-camp teacher, a community engagement coordinator, a pedicab driver, a Unitarian Sunday school teacher, a dendro-chronology lab technician and project manager, a freelance weed-puller and hole-digger, a Peace Corps volunteer (which is twelve jobs in itself), an Americorps member, a Salvation Army bell-ringer, a house-painter, a reading tutor, a groundskeeping assistant, an English teacher, a roastmaster’s assistant, a newspaper deliverer, a grocery bagger, a projectionist and theater cashier in something like that order. I love to learn how to do a new thing and to work in a new place. I have worked, but I have not earned my keep. I have amassed massive loan debt and relied often on the stability and generosity of others, especially my parents. If the measure of adulthood is to be able to cover your costs and more, I have yet to reach it.
It's been ten years of movement and constantly shifting directions. I’m an unpredictable element. I am unattached; an unknown entity; a potentially dangerous free radical. At worst, I lose track of my own story, and it all starts to feel like just a bunch of random events.
And an adult male is always a potential danger to others. An unattached one the more so, as he has less to lose. The male energy is vital, powerful, but without a direction and a purpose that energy poses a risk to others and to its host.
These next ten years I hope to build. To build means one can’t always move around, try a new thing, slip off into the night. It is probably dull much of the time. Perhaps it is not! I do not know what my prospects for family life are but I know they are better if I am stable. I have as good a chance as one can ask for in life, if I can simply finish that degree and start that career.
My own idiosyncrasy and my broad but strange work experience have not made it easy for me to find jobs in the past. When I find something either it is either temporary and ends or I head of to some other adventure. However, I feel immensely capable. I am somewhat unprepared to imagine a regular, long-term, middle-class job. Probably I should not get ahead of myself! But one must set goals and one must take steps to achieve them. I want to find work that is meaningful, challenging, and remunerative. I need to establish something stable, to develop long-term relationships, to build trust. This next decade will be the story of how that goes.
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