ALOHA FRIDAY Kurdistan-style... and then this old, unfinished post: Hau`oli Makahiki Hou 2018 (Happy New Year)

Hau`oli Makahiki Hou 2018

The lost entry: Back in America, back on January 1st, 2018, back in yet another bed, with another cup of coffee, from another french press, I typed...

It's a fine, brisk, foggy, crisp winter morning here in So.Or. It's a new year, and I'm ready for it. Right now, as I sit here with the kitties and drink my coffee, I'm in preparation mode. A new year equals a new job, and with that new job comes a new country; Iraq- Kurdistan to be more specific. 

The kitties came to America ('Merica F*ck Yea!) and conquered the hearts of friends and family- much to my delight. They can't continue on in this next chapter with me, nor would they want to. The Middle East Beasts are deep in the honeymoon phase of their So.Or. HQ. 

What a journey, this ending of 2017; coming to America from Istanbul and temporarily setting up shop- first in Yosemite working for the NPS. The Yosemite Chapter captivated me. It lured me back into the beauty of America's wilderness. I got to live out that 'mountain high girl' fantasy. 

Integrating back into American life was somewhat challenging, I suppose. I think all expats feel a bit 'weird' at first going back 'home'. It helped to go immediately into a new job (NPS archaeologist) and community so as not to dwell on what I had left behind. A fantastic voyage back into archaeology and the realm of scientific methods were a welcome respite from language teaching; just what the holistic doctor ordered. The heroes and heroines of the Yosemite Chapter are far too numerous, but are etched deep into my heart. I wonder who will be the first to visit me in Sulaymaniyah!!! I have some ideas.

It had been eight years since I left America. What I realize is that 'home' is everywhere. My new 'home' is once again in the Cradle of Civilization. I'm so stoked. I'm so ready. I'm so fortunate that I have love and support from family and friends in these processes.  
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FAST FWD 6 weeks and here I am in my bed, drinking my (french press) coffee, burning Nag Champa incense w/da kine on a moody Friday morning here in Iraqi Kurdistan. All I can eek out so far this morning is... oh what a night... We were all on point last night, our theatre troupe. That is all.

It's a moody morning. Solid waves of graydation interrupts the apartment buildings interrupting the Suli skyline. Luscious cashmere cocoons me in this perceived 'chill' my body is experiencing. Still, I stand strong; bare feet explore the wood floors- always.

Bare naked feet shuffling to and fro the hallway, into my living spaces. Oh the luxury. Toes spreading flat, walking my yoga-walk- trying to spread every toe up, down and out with each step- with some sort of consciousness. The toes knows; freedom. FREEDOM.

They pull on my body to enter THAT room. Yea, the one with the yoga mats; La Stanza nota come Studio di FORMolo. Funny, true story about Studio di FORMolo. Two evenings ago, after a long, successful week of work my feet bring me home. Seeking out the yoga mats, they set about into action. Unfortunately I stopped them from attaining total FREEDOM by first diverting them into the kitchen for a low ball glass of ice, tonic water, and a fresh lime. At this point said feet knew exactly where to trot off next; you guessed it- the bar, which also happens to be part of the open-air (of sorts) floor plan of Studio di FORMolo, which also moonlights as both a workspace and living room. Yea, give me some of that Sapphire gin (secretly pining for Hendricks). 

A friend calls & joins me for  pau hana cocktails (finish workweek). With da kine and Nag Champa incense wafting, slowly seeping through layers of skin, fighting its way inside cells to cleanse away the filth from the work week, I start to sink into the reality that I have 3 days off! I don't have to work at home  tonight. I don't have to pick up any work whatsoever tomorrow, you get the picture.

Said feet are quietly rebelling the entire conversation. Revolution. Time to draw Holly to the mat. To the mat; a welcome barge of familiar graphemes that always hits me like a mega-namaste-kinda-bomb. A phrase dear to my essence; all this shit that the universe constructed (chaos) and subsequently spit out to deposit into my star matter, back before 'it' mattered... Kinda like spiritual vomit, and I constantly seek out ways to express gratitude for the deposition, and the chance to walk this magical eARTh.

But I digress. Feet float me over and upside down. I'm in Sirsasana (headstand) pose. Headstand Pose, for me, is in the top five- with Trikonasana (Side Triangle Pose) being absolutely number one. One of my first yoga teachers back in Santa Cruz told me Sirsasana was the 'beauty' pose, because you never get the chance in life to maintain proper blood circulation to the head (brain) as you do when in a headstand. Any inversion in general is going to do this, but Sirsasana was my initiation into this school of thought. I love being educated, and am a dedicated student. As well, it's always hard to part ways with your first (yoga pose nirvana) love, isn't it? 

Moving forward, Sirsasana... it was beautiful. Blissed out, I returned to the couch, and my empty drink. Alone again and on the mat. Endorphins = addiction. Sweet addiction. 

I'm honestly not one to drink that much- I honestly think I'm too vain. Or realistic- I get that from my father. Perhaps it just comes down to I'm just too mortal. I likely won't be having a drink and doing yoga again... Something went awry, and I cannot say for sure what it was. There was no (distantly familiar) cacophony of listening to yourself pull a muscle and immediately know you fucked up. Having that happen once in life creates awareness of wanting to be really conscious of never experiencing that sound ever again. 

I recall going to sleep a bit freaked out. I hate fucking up my body. It was all so innocent; Marichyasana D (Sage Pose), which is always thrilling every time I nail it. And, by nailing it, I'm referring to relaxing in it with slow concentration and long exhales every time that mind tries to fuck up the body by trying to convince body that body can't do it. With each exhale body tells mind to shut the fuck up. 

Back to the main point of the story... even the tiniest bit of alcohol is going to favor mind over body.

Yesterday was spent babying the right side of my sacrum. I persevered, because I'm a Formolo foremost, yet I have allowed myself the ability to give in to a softer form of withstanding a sorta dull-yet-constant pain. Yes, I'm talking about taking a prescription anti-inflammatory. A very wise person turned me onto them a few years back. I hardly like to take them, but when shit hits the fan, you already know you have to deal with it, so may as well try to centralize where the fuck the pain is coming from so you can work on it.

Active work included (successfully I might add) liberal amounts of Tiger Balm slathered on lower back, 2 anti-inflammatories, loads of water throughout the day, and a cloth napkin wrapped around the head of a knife strategically placed in pain HQ. I used the 'attack from the hinterlands' method; slowly I worked from outside the enemy territory to the inner sanctum, where all the unrest was aflutter.

As I rest upon my acupressure pillow (this hard plastic square thing with about 500 pokey points sticking outta it- truly a nirvana once you get past the concept of the visual pain and sink into it and let it open up circulation in your blood vessels so oxygen can flow again and start circulating through the body, pumping it full of nutrients) and think I'm pretty fortunate.

Fortunate not just because I didn't really hurt myself, but fortunate for every thing.

It's Aloha Friday everybody!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aTfIGSnApD0

All in a Hollyday's realization, OR meditations on being frivolus with words

Bosphorus Basking

Saturday morning in bed with kitties and (french press) coffee. Spring fever is in full effect, yet today I have some nostalgia for cooler weather- temporary I assure you. As temporary as the overcast weather I see outside my window this morning. You know already though, I do love me some overcast mornings...

After a drunken evening, as a result from an afternoon spent drinking (malt) beer, after a mid-morning açik çay (tea) at the çay meyhane, after a cool 9 kilometer run- in a brand-spanking new pair of shoes, after a morning of teaching… I know, it’s complicated, as well as unexpected…

Yea, when EdVice suggested an afternoon beer chilling up on his lanai (deck) overlooking sweet Büyükdere’s ‘main drag’, I thought to myself, why yes. Yes indeed! I’ve never had Amsterdam beer before… Two tall 50s… I’m assuming it’s a malt beer. At some point EdVice’s words floated through my head with the faint sound of 12%…

So, as the story goes, I get back to my apartment, around the corner, about 5:30 pm and, according to the dirty dishes in the kitchen, made some pasta! Happy to discover this evidence of being smart enough to realize that I should eat food, rather than attack the 5 chocolate bars I brought back from Sicily (meant as presents for peeps and here’s to hoping that that stays the case).

The kitties seemed extra rambunctious too.  They seemed extra agitated that I wasn't, or couldn't, play with them. There are some hidden mysteries still, in terms of my chain of events. Here’s some more clues I have remembered.

The big news on Friday was, of course that Prince, his Purple Majesty, passed away on Thursday back at his Minnesota residence.  Many big names have been passing in 2016 and most have had an impact on my life, in terms of songs bringing me right back in time to moments. 

There’s something about Prince, his persona and his music, that really got me- even more so than Bowie- still a fresh wound for all us mortals who still dwell in this realm of existence, or dream-time, of alternate reality; whatever your persuasion or perversion, etc.

I see that I made a short vid paying homage to Prince while grooving to ‘Cream.’ It makes me think back to times on Maui living and growing. Dancing was such a HUGE part of my life. We worked hard to dance in the jungle, on the beach, under a full moon, etc. Preparations and carrying equipment down to The Cave backside Maui, out to Pauwela Lighthouse, into a dilapidated cannery in a cane-field, etc.

Dancing to mourn seems so natural for me I can even say. Anyway, it was just a sweet way to honor all that I loved about how this music FELT in my lifetime; The feelings of songs growing and evolving along with me throughout life. Yes, a nice feeling of aliveness. Hard to express while tapping on a keyboard, but I’m definitely in that groove as I type.

BTW, the rendition of “While my Guitar Gently Weeps” for a George Harrison tribute by Prince, Tom Petty, Steve Winwood, etc. that’s going around… dreamy. I spent the remainder of my waking hours experiencing Prince, and Chaka Khan, and Lenny Kravitz, etc. Man, good times. I guess it was my way of expressing A Dove’s Cry and realizing that we can be affected by so many things in our lifetimes.

A hui hou a hiki i ka la a`ae Prince…



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6SFNW5F8K9Y


So yesterday was a full day, and I’m pretty happy about that because this morning… well, it’s a bit slow. I recall having a fairly sleepless, or restless, sleep. Ah, another clue just came to me: the electricity was out, as it keeps going out now for the past hour or so.  We’ll see what happens with that as the day unfolds.

Rolling along, I’m not sure exactly why I woke up at 7:45 am… Perhaps the kitties were in cahoots together; such tricksters they can be when they rally together. I suppose I was meant to write this blog.  I know I had pretty much decided that I won’t be going on a run this morning. BUT, in hindsight, that could change. 

Yesterday’s run was pure groove.  I was wearing a new pair of running shoes, so was surprised I ran 9 kilometers- to Tarabya Iskele and back. After months of researching running shoes, I decided on a pair of Pearl Izumi EM Road M3s. I think you all know the story if you read this, past, blog entry concerning the level of research that I put into this endeavor.

After a quick adjustment halfway through my run (the forefoot was a little too tight, so I loosened it), my feet felt much better- especially the right foot, where there is this, small, bunion that has developed- and bugs me to no end… I hate the idea that I had never developed a ‘bunion’ in my life, due to living in slippers year-round, but as soon as I started moving to environments that include for winters, hence wearing boots/snow boots/rain boots for months, I develop this shit… Unbelievable for me- especially as a yogi.  I am a bit freaked at the idea that my big toe is trying to move closer to my other toes because of some ‘bunion’ I got because I don’t know the routine for choosing comfortable, warm winter shoes… Pfft. I mean, in yoga the big toe IS stability.

living the high life :)

 So, I am working to correct this- in a weird way possible, that is not backed by hard science, but Holly Science… I believe! There are these things called ‘Yoga Toes’ (refer to picture) that I purchased many years ago.  It took me a few years to actually start using them, but not for yoga.  I really got into doing my own pedicures years back. Truth be known, I’ve never actually HAD a professional pedicure, or manicure for that matter. But, I like doing detail-oriented things (must come from the archaeology career) and thought that my Yoga Toes are the perfect toe separators for when painting toes!  I have seen the typical ones that spas use, or you can buy in a store, but they look so flimsy.  I realized I already had THE supreme pair to use. 

As you can see, they really spread your toes well.  After I noticed that I had developed a ‘bunion’, I started to use them semi-regularly. Meaning that when I thought of it, I would put them on- which isn’t exactly steady but I’m working on being conscious of it.

I realize that most of today’s blog entry can be filed under ‘stuff no one really needs to know about or will find particularly interesting’, but that is the glory of having your own blog- it just doesn’t matter.  I just like to write and when things come to my mind, side-tracking me, I just have learned to go with it and see where it takes me. And that’s about it- that’s the secret to my blog; I generally have an idea of sorts in mind when I decide to write an entry, but from there where it takes me, I can’t pinpoint.  I just go with it. 

 Sometimes when I actually re-read entries I wonder what you all must be thinking. That wondrous moment is brief I will divulge…I especially take notice of the grammar though- and feel I want to edit. Sometimes I do.  Others I figure just keep because it was expressing my mood at the time- which obviously wasn’t feeling overly concerned about editing. It makes me smile. Smile that I can be so grammatically frivolous and not care about the consequences. Heh heh.

For example, today’s entry was supposed to be about my sojourn to Sicily for spring break.

peace

A little dab'll do ya...

 Sami Bey and Shaika Spot, faithful companions and avid travelers... My Middle East Beasts turned-to Turkish Kediler :)

As of late, I've reached into my Tiger Balm stashes, among others. It seems that the combination of yoga, running and African dance is turning my body into one big network of nerves. It actually feels a bit like growing pains.  Maybe it's just because there are so many different muscle groups being activated at various different times that no one group can find the time to relax as they're either in the spot light or guiding the other group on in some helpful way.  I just don't remember this in my previous life where I did all this, and more... lol

Fast forward to today, Easter Sunday for Christians, 9:30 am and ACTION.  It seemed like a rude interruption from my brief slumber. Brief, yes. I ended up on the party bus at 1am back to Büyükdere coming from Taksim.  Uneventful enough, but it did take some time.  Eye-spied, I think, my mysterious next-door-neighbor hopping on the bus in shi-shi-la-la Bebek (ritzy hood here in Ist where the see-and-be-seen like to dwell about and... well, see-and-be-seen).  Just adding more information to the mystery that is him, if it was him.  He is a sport coach, I think, for a campus sports team at work that shall remain unnamed to protect the innocent (me)... Anyway, American guy, I've heard.  I only know of his voice- through the walls talking on Skype... I can only assume that he wears cement blocks for shoes because that is what I hear when he is just walking up the stairs in his apartment up to his loft; I hear concrete block earth-moving tremors... So does Da Jel, who lives downstairs from this American WMD... lol. One day I'm going to run into him and we'll end up shooting the shit. I'll introduce my self as , "the purple note gal"- yes he did get a purple note slipped underneath his door once many fortnights ago... 

Coming out of the metro station, a very sparsely populated Taksim Square yesterday evening, due to the suicide bombing last weekend here...

Onward. So the reason I was on the party bus at 1am was because 4-gra had a wee/wii extravaganza at Da Kine's residence. Admittedly, the 100-pin bowling was good fun. I have birthed the 'slow mo/slow bowl form, to rave reviews from the tribe.  Slow and steady wins the race, although I didn't win.

Da Jel in an action shot

Onward. early on in the evening we all commented how we had just received the latest US embassy notice (warning) about a possible ISIL threat to places of worship today- especially churches, synagogues and diplomatic missions... Have I mentioned that I live above an Orthodox church, in an old schoolhouse?  Beautiful stone building that it is, it will become my self-exiled prison of sorts today.

Yea, it's a good day to just lay low I suppose. After running. And yoga. And a Brownie Walkabout with The Büyükdere Club Kids, our intrepid trio consisting of Ed Vice, Steve-O and myself. On our last Brownie Walkabout we ventured into an old Armenian Church further down in the hood, before trotting on to Yeniköy to down a few Teddy Beers.  Good fun.

The Büyükdere Club Kids

INTERRUPTION:  Ahhh the first sip of freshly brewed french press coffee... 

Yet I digress yet again... we all decided that 'it' (the embassy email) must concern the sites of religious worship and missions on Istiklal Caddesi (Istiklal street) mainly, as that was the site of last weekend's suicide bombing here in the latest antics (from a lame group of thugs). At any rate, I won't be cutting through the church grounds today en route to my (running) route.  WOW, at this very moment the church bells are ringing, and all the neighborhood canines are yowling... I've always been so curious on what goes on with an orthodox mass... Today is not the day to check it out.

Back to running as it's on my mind a lot these days.  Recently I broke out my old Timex GPS Run Trainer- mostly to check out my heart rate activity during my run.  I'm not sure why it's taken so long to break it out, but I suspect it's because the numbers were always so depressing while living/running in Bahrain the past 2 years... It was so damn hot running there- no matter what time of day.  I mean, it was laboriously hot trying to run into a full-on furnace coming at you...

Besides that, I'm really concentrating on working on some specific things. Specifically, my gait, as well as mind/body movement control.  What I mean to say is that I am really concentrating on focusing on experimenting with 2 different leg styles while I run: firstly, I visualize my feet.  While one is striking the ground (mid-foot strike I am also working on- coming from a (not overly severe) heel-strike background)), the other leg is close to a 90º angle with my foot trying to hit my butt. VISUALIZING I say, so that the goal is really just to get that leg high, while still projecting forward.

Running-style-wise, my second task is to try to bring free leg as close forward and near knee-level of the leg on the ground- all within an aerodynamic forward motion, so not a 90º angle here but maybe 45º. With this movement, I'm thinking that the less time my one foot is on the ground, the easier it is to transform into a mid-foot striker.  I've come to realize that my heel-strike, even though it isn't pronounced, makes me take a longer time to recover and get that foot back off the ground, as well as gives more time for my body to sink into that foot on the ground or compress my spine.

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it"; I know, I know.  But, I'm having fun with it.  What I know is that when I'm running, I'm feeling that high, and it's so good that I don't want it to stop. So, if I want to continue this running-high into the years, I need to be logical. Prevention is the key, and I've done a pretty good job so far.

Yesterday's excursion into the world of running in Istanbul brought me to a new route, I think. I've been wanting to start training on hill sprints.  But I need a hill. Going up the Haciosman Hill I notice, while on the bus, that there is a forested area in a neighborhood just off the highway.  Bingo.  I ran up to this spot and just started walking into this village neighborhood.  There are 3 successive, steep hills to traverse, and probably more as I started to see people movement at the top of the 3rd and didn't feel like trekking further into this unfamiliar neighborhood/village. Let the people get familiar with me I think is a good plan.  After all, it doesn't look like any yabancī get up into this hood... What I mean to say is seeing a yabanci, and a yabanci runner, in this hood looks like an unfamiliar thing.  Baby steps... Happy baby steps that I found this new practice session to throw into the mix!

The hill sprints should build some more muscle, which should, in theory, propel me faster!  At this point, my Bosphorus Runs need a little kick.  I've been running up to 10k at a time now (on a great day), but I feel a bit sluggish.  I feel that I don't need to run farther, but faster.  Simply just to change it up.  The weather is getting warmer as it's now spring so why not? I have Spring Fever, and it's excellent.

An always great cross-training choice is yoga, of course. Even though I do miss the relaxed style of yoga on Maui, and Bahrain ( BaYoga ) I have found a sorta sweet spot here in Istanbul. What I typically find here, though, is that most all teachers have the same classes; the same poses, too much partner work (which, to me, means too much down time and time spent in the hands of someone who is going to possibly help one to injure themselves), and too much talking.

The last one is okay though as my comprehension of Turkish isn't too great so it is more like background noise.  I can just get into my poses and concentrate on my breath and turn out the talking. Not that I'm used to a disciplined class (well, except for House of Yoga and Zen in Makawao where I practiced ashtanga), but I guess I'm used to a more intuitive class where the body talks and the mind listens. Man, I need quiet time for this :)

African dance classes started up this week! Our drummer is from Guinea and teacher is Senagalese. High energy for sure.  Perhaps it is this newest addition to my regime that is making my body ache- good ache- since there is a lot of jumping and flinging of body party involved.  Nevertheless, it feels so good.  Drums beating my body into submission while rhythmically putting me into a trance state of higher awareness... Higher consciousness... Higher frequencies being adjusted to, thus allowing me to be me... THIS. This is the Da Kine medicine...

INTERRUPTION: more coffee downstairs...

The day is already sizing up to be a tall drink of water: the sun is breaking through the clouds and I can hear the horns on the Bosphorus ships. Birds are chirping, and there is an unmistakable quietness in the TomCat antics this morning.  As spring has sprung, so have the TomCats from near and far to the doorstep of the building nearly.  They hang out in a dude-gang and battle for unassuming females, all of which are in heat collectively.  An odd-sounding symphony plays nearly 24/7 here consisting of unnerving treble (females kitties getting raped) to all about the melodious bass sounds when it's feeding time for the extensive tribe by one of the neighborhood moms who so graciously and consistently bring food to the feeding trough of the sidewalks to the baritone sounds of male dominance behavior played out as 'let's see who will fall off the garage across the street while fighting). A true cacophany of feline life in the hood captured in a mid-spring fever tribute to life in Istanbul.

COUNTDOWN: less than 2 weeks to Sicily!

In summary, "a little dab'll do ya" serves me right.  Here a dab (neck). There a dab (right outer hip socket). Everywhere a dab dab (you get the picture). I dug into my (well stocked) Tigers Balm reserves in the past week to facilitate the healing powers of (analgesic balm on) sore muscles. I started to put some on my knee caps BEFORE going out on my run... I decided this not the greatest idea even though it feels awesome.  I'm on the preventative bandwagon, but is this preventative, or masking inevitable pain without solving the problem?  It's a fine line, and it's got me wondering.  So much in fact that I started researching effects of pavement running (who doesn't know the results of this tough). I guess I'm just looking for some solid research/data to counter the obvious (pounding your kneecaps and vertebra into eventual decay). I did manage to order a new pair of running shoes though, which faithful friend JonEe will send with his otherwise awesome care packages.

As any research endeavor with me, I spent so much time on this. Days, even weeks!  It came down to 3 brands: Pearl Izumi, Hoka One One and Altra.  After much (A LOT OF) deliberation, I ordered the Pearl Izumi's.  I decided to try this 'rocker' style out after assessing my needs (stability, wide toe box, and cushioning).  The Hoka One One was my wildcard as I've never worn a 'rocker' type shoe before and they seem to be extreme.  Altra had an option or two as well, but Pearl Izumi won out.  The sizing, of course, is touchy- especially in terms of not wanting to send shit back to America so really needing the size to be correct. Not having ever tried on these 3 brands before, it's a crapshoot, but I did do indepth research and read SO many comments.  I'm feeling pretty confident about my choice and excited for arrival time!  Until then though, my Saucony Kinvara 7s are doing me just fine.  These are definitely my GO TO shoes of the decade (3 years strong with this Kinvara series and happy).
 

Peace.

Just Hop on the Party Bus

I'm becoming more and more familiar with the 'Party Bus' as it is so affectionately called here in the `bul.  After midnight the metro stops so you are limited in how you will get back home after your weekend shenanigans in Taksim, etc.  You have taxis, of course, the dolmuş, for a limited route to Beşiktaş- until you need to take a taxi, and then you have the Party Bus.

Take last week for example. Da Jel and I plotted to take the 3 am Party Bus from Taksim back to Büyükdere.  She had found a Party Bus that left from a different stop than the Party Bus that I discovered last month with Kate.

Anyway, we had it all planned out and were chilling and keeping warm, and dry, in a pub until it was time to hit up the Party Bus. Oh yea, it was pissing rain so bad.  I mean SO BAD...

Granted, we left a bit late, but figured we were on track to make the bus- I was at least since I didn't really know where the bus stop was.  It is pissing rain and we are soaking wet and nearly breaking out in a sprint the last 100 meters and there we saw it- the Party Bus... en route already without us on it and way too far away to try to catch its attention... Sadly we had to alter our plans.  It sucked. Sucked as in like 35 Turkish Lira sucked... Yea, we had to take a taxi after our short dolmuş ride to Beşiktaş...

Last night I was on a mission to catch the Party Bus. As my lungs couldn't take the smoke-filled, stagnant air any longer, I left our party HQ for the evening, Peyote:

#sickboyorganization with #‎artdiktatör‬ and #Robotat

Checking the time, I saw that I was going to have to wait a while as I was navigating down the narrow, winding staircase. As I got to the bottom I heard some progressive house and saw DJ Caner.  Immediately I joined in- especially as it involved (mostly) fresh air. Man the memories start to flood back of all the fun dance parties on Maui over the years. Nothing like spinning into that trance state and just f*cking grooving in a pure state of bliss. Yea, you know what I'm talking about- most of you anyway :)

I got to the coveted bus stop with ten minutes to spare.  The line was HUGE. It was a total after-party scene and hilarious at that. All the different tribes of people present each had their own scenario going on.  Most were in a state of slight dysfunction due to inebriation. 

Finally the bus came and there were already a lot of people on it... WTF I'm thinking, as this is the beginning of the line.  Obviously some people discovered it is much easier to wait where the bus comes out of the secret hole so that they can get a seat.  I could tell that I would have to fight my way onto the Party Bus because I just knew that some wouldn't make it on. 

Our  journey starts on the sardine-packed Party Bus.  Everyone is laughing.  I am standing in a fairly mellow spot with my (requisite) head phones on. There are about 4 different conversations going on that I am privy to as well because, somehow sharp hearing is my superpower for the journey. Again, hilarious.

I was just hoping that everybody would get off at Osmanbey, Şişli, or Mecidiyeköy- where most of the cities denizens seem to live... But they didn't.  The Party Bus was packed all the way to past Levent4. I finally got a seat and tuned out for the last stretch. 

Büyükdere was a ghost town at 3:30 am.  The air was cool and crisp, but a hint of spring hung thick hovering over me. The Bosphorus was sparkling as the stars were falling into the water. I could see the vibrations or pulse of the atmosphere as the lights danced atop the water in dreamscape formations. 

The çai meyhanes that line the Bosphorus were devoid of most of their regulars.  There were still a few good old boys hanging, talking and doing their typical boy-club thing that they do.  They always look up at me strangely, as this short-cut is popular in my wanderings.  Usually I'm coming there around 10 pm after yoga class, or after my runs in the morning, so usually I'm wearing my workout gear.  They always look up and study me quizzically, which I don't mind, or have just gotten used to. The only time I am actually a patron of this particular çai meyhane is when I'm in the company of the Büyükdere Club Kids, aka Steve-0 and Ed Shread.  

So I always instinctively scrutinize the mehane whenever I walk by in case I see da kine so I would then go and chat them up.  Of course, at 3:30 am it looks strange if you are looking over all the patrons because all the patrons, basically, are watching you, if you remember, in a weird way, that just gets to feel 'normal' after a while and then you kinda forget about it- the weird way they are looking at you...

So, the story ends here with me getting home without a hitch, really. What really surprised me, though, was how I absolutely STUNK of cigarettes.  No wonder my lungs wouldn't, couldn't, take it any longer at the club. Of course, the club, Peyote, is tragically cool so one tolerates the low ceiling and relatively small venue space because their lineups are usually alternative and interesting and artsy. 

Stripping off my cigarette-infused fabric and seeing (smelling) the pile on the floor was nearly suffocating... I honestly felt bad about putting the heap into my dirty laundry basket- it's like the other dirty clothes inside didn't deserve having to tolerate this batch... In they went and in I went into the waiting hot shower.  Man a hot shower feels good after a night of party/dance/walk-in-rain (oh yea, it was raining again too, but not like last week), etc. 

I slipped underneath the crisp cotton sheets and slid the goose-down comforter over me and grabbed my computer while the kitties adjusted themselves onto me now. A little bit of da kine and an episode of Freaks and Geeks and I went into lounge mode, only to be interrupted by the not-so-subtle hint of sunrise... 

Crisis-mode starts up instinctively and immediately.  It flushed over me and BAM, less than a minute later I am hoping to go into deep slumber.

In other mundane news:

school is cool
yoga is becoming sexy again
running is a high
da kine will always be da kine
the Kovan  bakery in Osmanbey ROCKS
popcorn Jelly Bellies aren't so bad after all

And on an ending note, I'm absolutely DYING to look through all my spring/summer clothing that has been stored away for the past few months. This. THIS consumes me.  I am trying to hold out, but I'm just so damn excited about wearing slinky clothing once again and seeing my body after a winter of hibernation... It's been a long time since I've looked at all my bikinis and I can't wait to be in them ALL again soon.  Damn I miss the f*cking beach lifestyle.  I realize every day that I live without the beach that that is what I'm all about really. I guess missing that lifestyle is the challenge for me now.  I have willingly severed ties.  It is an interesting experiment. I know that a beach is my destiny. I know so deep down that it's not even a problem I guess is what I mean to say. 

Okay, It's now 12:15 pm and I'm still in bed.  Earlier I pulled open the curtains when I went downstairs to make my brew and saw a brilliant, sunny winter day unfolding- a bit windy it seems though. This has been a pretty mild winter here so there isn't much to fuss over.  I think I'm doing pretty good for experiencing my first winter in a few years.  I could even deal with a snowfall or two again.  

I feel like I am getting the clothing and layering thing down to some degree lately.  It seems that in the past 2 weeks, or since the semester began, that I am finally getting it down. I mostly notice this on my runs.  On Friday's run, it was still pretty early so I moved onto my light long-sleeve running jacket and beanie.  It worked well and my entire run was just sweet.  Yesterday it seemed a bit colder so I switched to my new running jacket- with the puffy chest part. That also worked well, although I had to alternate with taking off/putting on my beanie.  That run was super sweet too.  What will today bring?  It does seem windy, but I can tell already that sunscreen is a must :)

   

April Showers Brings May Flowers?

Perhaps you can't tell from the picture, but it is oppressively hot as well as engulfed in a sandstorm in the 'hood

I smell it in the air.  I taste it in my mouth.  It swirls around my feet... Yes, I just woke up this Monday morning to another sandstorm... Fortunately FaceBook Oracle told me all about it in advance as many friends in UAE & Saudi were already posting about the impending arrival here of another sandstorm. Thus meaning that I managed to close all windows before the storm hit... I don't usually manage to do that so I feel I'm already winning.  This year we've been getting hit by quite a few.  I don't remember this happening last year- at least with this frequency and intensity.

Speaking of intensity... I'm headed to the Formula One races this weekend here in Zallaq!  Again this year a friend is working the circuit so giving up his tickets to us :)  Again this year I do not have binoculars... Fortunately they are pretty decent seats situated above and near the 1st bend in the track. We saw some good action last year from those seats.  Not that the races themselves isn't thrilling enough, but the people watching is equally entertaining.  I mean, you see jewel-encrusted people there.  You see thobes with diamond cuff-links.  You see abayas dripping in Swarovsky crystals.  You also see a lot of normal looking peeps too... You will also see Starr, Dot and myself!  Hopefully the sandstorm session will be over.  Did I mention that Pitbull will be djing?  I'm looking forward to that as I'm a kinda-fan...

Last Thursday- that was the day. That was the day that the weather 'broke'. It was a definite feeling of the rise of temperature.  It seemingly went from high 70s to high 90s overnight. Everybody noticed it and talked of it.  I held off with the air conditioning until Saturday evening... Now, though, air con will be a constant I fear.  This is how the rest of my time in the Middle East will be spent- going from one air con environment to another air con environment, etc.

I managed to get back in my yoga routine at BaYoga. Just going inside that humble yoga shala makes me realize how much I will miss it.  It's such an easy vibe and no one is there to babble about yoga, etc.  Everyone is just into their practice, and then they leave.  Although, this past week I noticed some new people and a few in particular kept talking.  There is a point in class where there is kind of a little break and our teacher walks around and gives us adjustments, etc. Usually if you opt out, or don't take them, you just sit in meditation or Child's Pose, etc.  These girls decided it was time to talk-story as if they were at a cafe or something.  I don't know, but I thought it was incredibly rude.  Perhaps they just don't understand that yoga isn't simply an 'exercise' but a deepening of development to quiet the mind, as well as the body.  I let it temporarily affect me, but then I decided that I needed to become unaware of it and just let it go.  I guess I decided to turn the situation into a lesson for myself in my own personal development of quieting my own mind! 

I am amazed though as Friday morning class is always full, but on Saturday mornings sometimes I'm the only one or there is one other person.  This Saturday there was another guy and myself. I always enjoy this class as instruction is so personalized.  I hadn't seen him before, but he looks like he will be a regular and is pretty dedicated to his practice. Our teacher had us strike up some rather complex asanas that took some mental/physical preparations to gear up for.  At one point my mind tried to take over.  I said, "Abelish I can't do this pose today", as I fell over. He did not falter for a moment.  He simply waited (signaling me that I was going to try again) and casually said something to the effect of, "Yes you can.  Don't tell yourself you can't."  What happened next?  I nailed the asana- right before I tilted over again!  It was Pigeon Pose variation(s) that looked like this:

It's amazing how one's mind can control one's body.  You don't even realize it and live your life like this.  I'm being dramatic, but to express my point.  It just hit home for me that my mind was resisting what my body could fully do, and I don't know why.  I don't know why both my mind and body weren't working in unison to bring me happiness.  Why did it take someone else to tell ME I could do it?  Well, that is a cerebral question with a cerebral answer... The lesson (re)learned is that you can do a lot, but you have to train your mind.  This is what a lot of people don't realize about yoga.  You are training your mind as well as your body.  It is discipline.  It is intense.  It is light-hearted.  It is the union of body and mind- yoga.

I  remember being burnt out on yoga a few years back- when I was still back home on Maui.  It wasn't the practice, but the perception of yoga that was starting to annoy me.  I kept hearing in many different classes with different instructors stuff like, "Keep it yummy" or "Doesn't that feel delicious", etc.  There was always this talk of 'heart-felt', etc.  I mean, yes okay but do we have to talk about it.  we KNOW it.  I just felt like so much superficial talking was going on.  I just wanted to deepen my practice and to do it in a group setting.  There was only one instructor that gave me this peace of mind where I could just be.  I could drown out all sounds and have my practice. This was at the House of Yoga and Zen.  Perhaps it's because of the nature of Ashtanga Yoga itself in that it is a specific routine that one flows though holding each pose for only 5 seconds.  You flow so fluidly that there is no time to let the mind wander, in my humble opinion.  As well, there is a way to channel one's energy into the body and give up the mind.  There simply isn't enough time for the mind and body to communicate together (meaning that the mind has no time to try to convince the body that something can't be accomplished).  I don't know, but it was at this point that I realized I needed to explore a deeper practice on my own.  I say this because I could not practice Ashtanga every day- as is needed with that branch of yoga- because I was always up early and working archaeology jobs on construction sites so couldn't make the 7am classes.  I could only make Sunday morning classes. 

That was also about the time that I moved to Tunisia so my practice had to go 'underground' so to speak.  Same thing as when I moved to Southeast Turkey.  I had to develop my own home practice, which is not an easy thing to do.  I still battle with it, and am fortunate enough here in Bahrain to have access to some great yoga classes.  It is freeing.  It is liberating.  I really missed the interaction of open classes- even though we are not necessarily interacting with each other during practice. At one point yesterday morning the teacher was adjusting Spencer and I was watching how he was adjusting (every yoga teacher is always fascinated with how another teacher gives adjustments) him.  We both caught eyes briefly and it was just a pleasant exchange.  That is all.  He was nailing the pose and I was excited and he was feeling elated I could tell.  It was just a tiny moment of sharing something together yet totally separate.

My friend Angie had friends visiting from North Carolina this past week so they had a full fun-packed schedule of events that I tagged along with for some.  Probably the highlight though was finding Farheen- an Indian woman originally from Bombay that lives here and does a kick-ass job of henna application, as well as teach yoga!  I'll check out her yoga classes soon enough, but I am really impressed with her henna designs.  She does it at her house and is just a wonderful person with a sweet vibe.  There were 5 of us so it was a full evening of henna, food and talk-story.  My kinda evening indeed.

Here I am at my beach after yoga class on Saturday reading my book.  Yes, I'm the only person 'on the beach' in terms of a towel on the sand... A beach culture Bahrain is not!!!

a traditional Bahraini-weaved basket I got from a cool old man at the Capital Mall Artisan Collective.  He gave me a bunch of freshly-picked sprigs of basil.  Smelled delightful! Oh, also my beloved Alfonso Mangoes- which are to-die-for

I'll end with some other pictures of various hoods in Bahrain that I frequent and find fascinating

This is towards South Sehla. This hood holds lots of "BBQs"

This is in Al Hajer.  I go through here to take a short-cut to get back on the freeway when I want to avoid Budaiya Highway

The pet store where I get catfood is nearby to here

On the way to Starr's villa- in Al Hajer village.  I really like this village

an unfinished mosque in Al Hajer.  It seems work was stopped on it a few years ago, right after work started on it...

By the way, April showers are non-existent here in the Middle East...

Tuned in and Turned on- to MY frequency of love

8 am in bed listening so Antonio Carlos Jobim with a hot cuppa joe.  Kitties are gleefully playing around the house, now that it is (mostly) rid of sand from this  past week's sandstorm that came in and held my house hostage...  Yea, true story.  Sand everywhere.  I could track all movements throughout the house using my cleaning skills as an indicator of where there were still layers of sand I had not excavated deep enough & cleared.  Obviously, my cleaning skills lack but whatever...

As I woke up today I thought to myself, "Do I spring out of bed"  Do I get it together to get myself together and get in car and drive to 9:30 yoga class? Or, do I lounge in bed and drink coffee at a leisurely pace?"  Option 3 works for me today! 

Speaking of coffee, I'm quite excited about my Yemen coffee that I recently purchased... I am patiently waiting for the Starbucky's swill to run out so I can test out what I think will be an excellent brew.  Perhaps I should have gotten more? 

Yes, relaxation rules the day, or the weekend more appropriately.  The past month every weekend has been absorbed by travel and running around.  I am ready to simply sit and stare at walls... Yesterday even staring at walls was interrupted- by 11 episodes of House of Cards... Honestly, it takes me so long to watch these awesome tv series.  When I finally figure out how awesome they are, I go on an episode binge.  I did have intermittent bouts of house-cleaning, running, yoga and push-ups though so not all was lost in slackerverse...

Today.  Today though is all about the animals!  I'm catsitting for my downstairs neighbor and he just had his balls chopped off so... he needs some extra loving.  My kitties need loving too!  As well, they need food!  Yes, it's a trip to my favorite pet store on Budaiya Highway. It's a completely rural experience here and I love it that I can find gems like that here in this strange little island nation. 

Lastly, today is about the BSPCA.  Yes, it's a day to share some love with all the homeless kitties and doggies!  I suppose the animals are not exactly 'homeless' as they do have a home to live in while they await their forever homes.  There are far too many homeless animals here in Bahrain though.  Also, there are far too many assholes here in Bahrain that treat animals like shit... That is universal though.  I'm quite impressed with the large community of animal care-takers here honestly.  Some asshole burned a cat alive last week, in a cage, and got it on video.  It was posted to many websites (I was following the BSPCA Facebook page), and within a few days a few supporters got a reward bag of 600BD together (approximately 1500 US$) and within days, the culprits were turned in and, apparently are currently arrested.  I'm hoping for a positive ending with this (goes something like, "an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth...")

It got me to thinking about religion- all religion.  Isn't it supposed to be about love and compassion and acts of charity? Sick of all the hypocrits- from all religious backgrounds.  I'm not an aethiest by any means (to me this simply begs for inclusion into some group of non-believers that wishes to adhere to some group norms- such as a 'religion'). I simply pick and choose what I wish to accept at various times when I think about these things.

What exactly is a 'pious' act anyway?  Is this possible in the current state of the world? Can you be pious in advance so you can 'sin' at a later date and use that ace in your back pocket  as a 'get out of jail card' such as in Monopoly?  What exactly is a 'sin' anyway?  I vaguely remember what is represented during my youth spent in a Catholic Church every Sunday morning at 7 am... I have different opinions now.  Or, I've decided that it is a gray area.  There is no black and white.

Let's just say that this Sunday morning I am reflecting on going to my type of institution of worship- a jungle back home in Hawaii.  Filling my body with Mana from the land. Having my body adorned with black sand from Maui's volcanic shores of the east part of the island.  Having seawater, (my 'holy' water?) in my hair to put a spell on me and not let me forget who rules the land, the heavens, the hells of my world. Jumping naked into waterfalls and feeling free.  Feeling like perhaps people are watching, but do they really care? No, not really.  Not in my world.

What else am I thinking about?  I'm thinking about how back home in the summertime I feel so free.  My HQ is up in Makawao- Cowboy Country.  I think about how I get up and decide to go to the beach and simply walk into town and hitchhike down into Paia and walk over to Baldwin Beach, or Tavaras Bay, or at the Youth Center.  I think about lying on the warm sand and how the sun eases away all the stress and tension from my body that has been building up from living in this part of the world.  Don't get me wrong, I enjoy the challenge of living where/as I do, but I do need healing every year away from it.

I think about how not strange it is to be in constant movement back home.  Dancing in reckless, wild abandonment (and not in a thumping nightclub full of losers and hookers intermixed with a few like-minded expats). Choosing to do yoga on the beach rather than inside a classroom.  Want to do a headstand on the beach?  Why not.  Go for it.  No one will stare you down.  No one will even notice.  You have a teeny bikini on too?  Not a problem. Do your thing peeps. Smoke. Drink. Make out. Read a book. Whatever. 

You read my words this morning and you might think my mind is in the gutter.  Nope.  It's already back home on the shores of Maui. As well, my mind is projecting on my future home- Istanbul...

(how's that for a cliff hanger...)

The race is on folks...to get back to my 'normal'

... to get back to MY frequency of LOVE.  Soon come Hawaii...

2014: Let it go effortlessly & bring in 2015 gracefully

I'm not one to look back.  I focus forward.  I'm on a trajectory, to where (spatially) I know not. Yoga is my cocoon. What I transform into, I have an idea.  I go forward with this. I like the metamorphosis. I like shedding. I want to dig deeper into this universe, and that means to burrow deeper into my psyche.

It all came to me in yoga class yesterday. I moved through the postures and it was so exquisite that I was left nearly breathless. In a world that is becoming increasingly difficult, in terms of strife, conflict and ego, I find it peaceful to be able to check all that baggage at the front door of the yoga studio.  Yes, it can even happen here in Bahrain.

This place... is such a dichotomy. There is something that weighs heavy on my heart currently: The politics of labor here.  The politics of pomp and circumstance.  I am white.  I have a blue passport.  I am privileged.  It is apparent every single day here. I don't forget it.  I can't forget it. Every public space I enter into here is constantly darkened when a worker addresses me by, "Madam." There are a lot of Indian, Pakistani, Bangladeshi, and Filipino workers here (many more as well, but the most populous).  They have to address me this way.  It makes me sick.  Of the personal relationships I cultivate, it starts by forcing people to see me as simply 'Holly.'

Recently a yoga teacher called me 'madam' and I was shocked.  A yoga teacher is sensei.    A yoga teacher generates respect and gratitude and a sense of knowledge possessed that a practicing yogini or yogi wishes to attain.   I was silently screaming because we are both a product of our host culture, in which we, sometimes robotically fall into our expected personas.  I was screaming silently because I take for granted that I can shed that expected persona.  A true first-world problem to whine over certainly (and whine I did with red wine afterwords last night).

Another observation of mine includes for the task of adjustments during yoga class and the dilemma of male-female roles in this society.  A few weeks ago in class I observed that only the males in class were getting adjustments (from a male instructor).  As I was longingly looking at the glorious adjustment taking place on the mat next to me, it obviously showed on my face.  My teacher, bless him, looked me straight in the eye and asked if I wanted an adjustment.  I know I lit up at that moment. 

I don't know how else to describe my thoughts here on the subject.  I am grateful to practice yoga here in a traditional environment in a class that is not segregated- as all other yoga classes here are that I've found so far. Why do these issues persist in society?  Well it is a rhetorical question because I know the (my) answer.  Most all reading this blog know the answer.  We all remain silent on it though as it is barely tolerable and approachable subject matter.  For reasons I can't exactly share without a lot of painful back-peddling.

My freedom. My freedom to live a life where this isn't an issue is indeed an onus to contemplate over here where matters are more complicated. Maybe, though, I am looking at this from such an ingrained culture-bound angle that I can't see what is actually in front of me?

What do I do with this white privilege that lets me glide in/out of scenes in the Kingdom 'under the radar' so to speak?  I'm not complaining.  I'm contemplating.  I contemplate that as a western female, I 'get away with things here' that many can't pull off. My actions are simply shrugged off as permissible or tolerable because 'I'm not from here.'

Anyway, this is me. January 1st, 2015 2 6:30 am. I'm supposed to be in yoga class right now, but I decided to let the Gin/Tonics from last evening digest a bit more and attend 10 am class instead. Besides, it is chilly here in the Kingdom- 17º C (63F) and the kitties are snuggled inside my blanket purring.

Another year begins and im`ma just keep pondering and penning... namaste

Summer lovin- had me a blast. Summer lovin- happened so fast...

Wrapping up a week of Kurban Bayram holidays- which, for me, means Hollydaze... And Hollydaze means Turkey Trotting.  So the '3 Witches of G-tep' hit the road with the pedal to the metal. We blazed a 1500 kilometer trail- BUT more on that journey on my next post...

What this holiday in fact did was inspire me to blog about the last of my summer odyssey after I returned from visiting Odysses on Kos Island- 1 of many lovely Greek Aegean islands. So you all read up on that journey, but what happened afterwards? Well, in fact, the party didn't stop there. I sailed back to Turkey- Bodrum.

Bodrum is in the southwestern Aegean region of Turkey. In ancient times it was known as Halicarnassus. Its famous king, Mausolus was around sometime around the early parts of the 4th century B.C. When he passed on, his (sister) wife, Artemis, built him a tomb so great to reflect his greatness that the word mausoleum is today known throughout the world. This stately tomb of Mausolus is one of the 7 Wonders of the Ancient World.

The massive fortress,Bodrum Castle, stands proudly today at the harbor entrance and was built in the 15th century A.D. by those pesky Crusaders... There is also an underwater archaeology museum there so check it out when in the vicinity. It is the setting for my adventures when traveling to Kos- which is becoming more and more frequent!

So this is how my typical Bodrum experience plays out: I get into town on the bus (ugh- I'm getting VERY tired of long distance bus rides, but at least the bus system in Turkey is awesome and as comfortable as it can possibly be). The good thing about the otogar (bus station) in Bodrum is that it is right smack in the center of the city on the waterfront practically. What this means to me is that I don't have to walk far with my backpack to catch a boat over to Kos.

Depending on the ferry timetables, as well as extenuating factors such as the good looking male population in the city, or how desperate I am to get my hands on some Greek food, I decide how long to stay in Bodrum. By the way, there is this really cool outdoor disco, The Halicarnassus, that is fun to frequent- all night if one so desires. I would, of course, know nothing about this whatsoever...

So this last trip, I only had a few hours to spare in Bodrum after returning from Kos because I wanted to get to Kabak and just chill out at my friend's camp- Reflections Camp.  So this is how those few hours went down:

I always go to this one cafe on the backside of the harbor. I'm sure I have seen many generations of this cat's family lineage...

So my HQ is a very nice place. I have everything I need inside my backpack, and I can drink, eat and sun worship all day long here. The Bodrum Castle is seen in the background. The place is very lively and it's just a nice, cool vibe away from the hustle and bustle of tourists going crazy shopping just on the other side of this area.

The jetty/harbor entrance is really cool. There are areas here where you can just lounge around on the rocks and watch the boats enter the harbor. As well, the water is (seems) super clean here and you can jump in for a dip.

This is a view from the jetty looking at the town and esplanade that runs along the waterfront. It is lovely. Too bad so many sunburned tourists...

just another picturesque picture of the Aegean...

At this point the pictures stop, but I didn't...

...And that brings me to the next stop on my odyssey: Kabakastan. So I caught my bus to Fethiye. I had already been through Fethiye this summer on an earlier journey from Kas. I'm pretty well familiar with Fethiye so usually now just continue through to my destination. Now, Kabak is my 'go-to' spot in Turkey when I need to commune with nature. I somehow feel closer to Hawaii when in Kabak- or as we so affectionately call it, Kabakastan. Because, it is it's own entity. And it always feels like I'm in a parallel universe when I'm there because... well I can't really explain it succinctly.  Let the pictures do the talking...

my bungalow at Camp. I have everything I need: dive gear, sunscreen, moonlit evenings, The one thing I don't need are mosquitoes- but they are provided anyway. The mosquito net helps....

Breakfast is typical in an untypical environment! Damn the food is good here. The kitchen staff is excellent.

my closet- which consists of my favorite clothing- BIKINIS!!!

things can start to get a little freaky in Kabakastan...

view from one of the paths

you can do anything in Kabakastan

something bittersweet about this so I had to capture it. It's the strange dichotomy of 2 separate ways of life...

country

a new yoga platform since last summer- right at the water's edge

day camps on the beach

self-portrait

the Dragon Bar is in it's 2nd year of existence at Reflections Camp!

it's not Hawaii, but it's amazing. Only waves could make this spot more perfect- and surfers!

nice perspective, and a familiar one for me!

drool-worthy

sometimes one tires of paradise and needs to get back in the gritty so here I am with Chris helping him pick up supplies for his camp, Reflections Camp, in Fethiye. We're picking up ice and beer for the Dragon Bar.

Chris's awesome ride

boat outings are a must down here in Kabakastan. There are so many uninhabited nooks and crannies along the coastline. There is always a deserted beach one can find- complete with castaways and pirates... haha

very romantic, no?

the beauty seeps into your skin and permeates your soul leaving you stuptified

sunset swim

from one of the hiking trails

reflecting on Reflections Camp details...

Reflections Camp HQ- the kitchen! It always smells good here!

Seckin co-rules the empire with Chris

take me there...

...and then there was Mik... I was fortunate enough to meet Mik & her crew. They were visiting from Izmir where they live. I ended up hitchhiking a ride with them to Izmir- which was unexpected on my itinerary, yet another highlight of the summer. And I do mean highlight.

So a little history, or actually herstory, about Kabak. To visit there today one gets a dolmus from Fethiye and takes it to the end of the road- Faralya. Faralya is the village above the valley that you hike down into to reach the plethora of camps in Kabak. Kabak, or Kabak Kolu (canyon) is famous for its pine trees, waterfalls and beaches. It is, or was, off the beaten path in terms of Turkey tourism. In the past 11 years I have noticed a great change anyway, and now there are some resort-type structures built in the valley complete with air con and swimming pools. You can also hitch a hide into Kabak withe these safari jeeps that run up/down the precarious dirt road all day long. It is kinda a shame because now anybody can get down there... I do mean this in the most demeaning sense I suppose... What can I say, when I want to get away from it all in Turkey, this is the only place, so far, that I can do it at.

Anyway, it is still absolutely beautiful, but with more people. Unfortunately there are more profiteers here in the valley and care nothing about the natural environment and 'vibe' of the place. It is also reflected in the type of tourist that they bring in. There is talk of paving the pot-holed road so more package tourists can come in. This will totally FUCK UP the energy of the place. Yes, this is how I feel. Kabak is a journey, and the experience of getting there is what sets you up for your trip with the place. I mean no pain, no gain. You used to only be able to get there by hiking in/out of the valley. This is the real deal. You can't bring all the modern conveniences and shit down there. You take only necessities- you. And you hike. And you get there and you trip out on the beauty and the difficulty of getting there. And the peace you feel with the environment. And you appreciate this as well as appreciate your humanness. You sit around the bonfire at night on the beach or wherever and meet people from all over the world who come to Kabak for this exact experience. So yea, Kabakastan is in great danger of being overrun with the typical BULLSHIT package tourism. In fact, it has already arrived. It is upsetting. Why can't that shit just stay in Oludeniz?

Okay I digress. Back to the beauty of the place... So Kabak is a stop on the Lycian Way. This is a long distance coastal footpath that the ancient inhabitants, the Lycians, used. It covers 500 kilometers- from Olu Deniz to Antalya. it traverses from the mountains to the sea continuously. It is rigourous. It is amazing.

So I ended up meeting these crazy cats in Kabak and so hitchhiked a ride with them back to Izmir where they live and work- at Izmir Economic University. What a ball it was. This is the 2nd time I've been to Izmir. The first time was during Kurban Bayram last year. I didn't really like it so much, so didn't expect much this last trip except in that I met some cool people. Well this 2nd round of Izmir was amazing. It's funny how perspective changes with circumstances...

Here are some of my highlights of Izmir:

Mik's hood in Narlidaire (?)

popoki #1

sunset shennanigans at Mik's...

world seems sideways...

popoki #2

amazing journey these toes have been on this summer...

I'm a sucker for boats- any kine. AND a man that goes along with a boat...

a city with a nice wide esplanade next to the sea is always a good city

Mik and I doing the strip in Izmir

Mik procuring more adult libations for us

we had our own personal chauffeur...

man on a mission

we had a secret mission

post work euphoria.

gargoyles

walkabout

downtown in the distance

3 muskateers

contemplating the bigger things in life

yours truly...

we ran the poor guy into the ground...

Mik. Contemplating. Life.

And now... now it is 4 A.M. on a cold Gaziantep night- or morning. I wish it was a cold Cappadocia night- or morning, but it is not. Tomorrow, or today, is Republic Day in Turkey so no work! This is good. It gives me time to collect my marbles. I think I lost some marbles in Cappadocia. I will return there soon to pick them up...

So, you all can expect the next update to be about my Kurban Bayram hollydaze. Why? Because every day is a Hollyday with me...

The Bewitching Hour ends now, as well as this post. I've no desire to edit it. Not even going to proof read it in fact.  Enjoy. Comment. Question. Laugh.