A plug for AirBnB

In my business life over the last 20 years  I have been privileged to stay in some of the top hotel chains in a number of continents including The Fairmont, Regency, Hilton and others - funded by various projects and corporate clients. 

After a while (as those of you who have travelled often may appreciate) the lustre of staying in hotels wears off, regardless of the size of room, location or staff. 

What a complete joy it has been finding AirBnB (www.airbnb.com) and using this to arrange accommodation throughout this trip.  I commend it to you all.  I have stayed in 10 different countries on this trip using AirBnB to book accommodation.  Each place has been great and I have made friends with some of these hosts and/or other guests along the way.

What is it?
It is a brokerage for anyone who has a spare room or a place for short to medium term rental.  You can either book an entire house/apartment or just a room.  In my situation I have just booked a room at each location.  This has enabled me to stay in some very central and sought-after locations at a fraction of the price that a hotel would have cost (in fact, I would not have been able to afford the trip I have had if I did use hotels).  It has also had the added advantage of staying with locals who (by the majority of my experience) go out of their way to show you hospitality and make sure you have a great experience in their home town. 

how does it work?
It is easy to use -

1. Register yourself (costs you nothing)
2. just type in the location of where you want to stay -this can be as broad as a country or a city or as detailed as a town or an area within a city/town. 
3. Put in the dates you want to stay there
4. select whether you want just a room or a whole apartment/house
5. Select the price range you are willing to pay
6. voila - view the results and read-up on the various places including reviews from people who have stayed there previously
7. Send an email requesting a booking
8. If the booking is accepted, pay for it vi credit card securely via the AirNbN site
9. As a host - you can register your place and, if you receive a request from a prospective visitor, you can read any reviews from people who have hosted them previously
10. You pay on-line with a credit card or paypal so you don't need to pay in cash when you stay

It's brilliant!  The review system is a good way of democratising the process and keeping it honest.

There is a loyalty scheme for introducing others to it which provides both the person being introduced and the one doing the introduction with a credit to use for their next booking.  I am happy to make any such introduction if you are interested.   Those who know me well will know that I don't make introductions lightly.  Either way, if you are travelling either within your own country or overseas, why not take a look?

Some of the people I have met via AirBnB have featured in some of my posts- it's a great way to meet interesting and good people.

Anyway, enough of a marketing spiel.  Just want to give credit where credit is due.

The Pyrenees - dangling off some rope with some over achievers

You'll find Ruth Jenkins and Rob Wilson at the right hand end of the bell curve of adventure sports and professions.  That's the end that is avoided by insurance brokers and underwriters. 

Ruth is quiet and unassuming and stands a little over 5 feet tall.  You would not guess to look at her or talking to her what she does for a profession nor the records she has set.

Ruth was the first woman in Great Britain (and among the first 4 in Europe) to successfully lead climb a grade 8b (grade 31 in NZ climbing terms) in mid 2000's.  She used to co-manage the British climbing team and currently works as a stunt woman whose credits include the movie Inception and Game of Thrones among many other movie and TV stunts involving climbing and high building work. 

The overhanging slope and heights she climbs would give most people vertigo just walking underneath them.

Rob's current roster has him spending two weeks on and six weeks off as one of the leaders of the rope access team that inspects and maintains the oil rigs in the North Sea.  He dangles out of helicopters on ropes half way down oil rigs and manages some of the teams, training and safety planning for a living.  In his down time from the rigs, he works at the property or consults on designs for climbing gear to the Welsh climbing equipment manufacturer DMM (one of the few companies who still manufacture all of their equipment rather than outsourcing it). 

Together they live in a 400 year old house in Loubierres at the base of the Pyrenees in France - doorstep to some of the best climbing and outdoors in the world.  They share the looking after and raising of Ruth and Martin's boys between them and Martin who lives nearby (when he is not being a Doctor on one of the Arctic expeditions). 

Ruth apologises for not being able to pick me up from the train station - it's Wednesday and she is guiding a tour party over the Pyrenees from France into Spain.  It is a 2-3 day hike through the mountains that traces the same paths that the shepherds used to smuggle people from France into Spain during the second world war to escape the gestapo. 

Welcome to a typical week at Ruth and Rob's place.
They run a Gite (a French B&B) in their large home - which is separated into two adjoining quarters in a serene and picturesque town.  It's not the Gite I'm staying at.  I'm here to work and, hopefully, in return, learn some climbing from two of the best. 

In NZ, Carolann and I have had HelpX (www.helpx.net) and Wwoofers (http://wwoof.net) help us at the farm off and on over the last 15 years. It can be a great arrangement - a bit like a box of chocolates (you're never quite sure what you are going to get!). It feels a little unusual being on the worker side of the arrangement - but after 9 weeks of travel and 10 countries, I'm ready for some physical work and to put down some shallow roots (i.e. stay in the same place for >2 weeks).  Ruth and Rob are welcoming and it's great to get my hand into some DIY and home maintenance again.  A400 year old barn conversion needs a bit of maintaining!

In return I have already been out climbing twice - and loving it.
Ruth's parents (John and Pam) are over from Wales - so it's a full house with great company and great conversation.  It's easy to see where Ruth get's her energy and love of the outdoors from.

Rob and Ruth in a rare time when they are both standing still!

 

Porto and a wine river cruise

The river Douro separates the two sides of Porto, Portugal.    One side has the district (originally its own town) of Vila Nova de Gaia that houses many of the famous Port wine companies (Sandemans, Calem, Burmester, Cockburns, Ferreira and others) including the storage and shipping facilities. In classic human style of working around a problem – the industry sprung up on this side of the river to get around the tax the local bishop put on exporting anything from the main town.

 

Ask a local what you should do in Porto and many times you will get the response to take a cruise up the river on a boat and then sample some port at the vineyards at which it is produced.  Never being one to argue with a local, I do just that.

There are a range of people, ages and nationalities on board. I am seated at the table with a lovely couple from Paris.  Dali  (short for Delilah) and Nicola – both work at the Louvre (where they met) and Dali, in her spare time is an English tutor, a translator, a composer/song writer and a jazz singer (as you do).  There is another couple at the table with from Florida.  She speaks impeccable French (8 years of tutoring twice a week).  Other languages – Spanish – “Where did you learn that?”  “We’ve both lived in Florida most of our lives but both from Cuba”

Dali gives me a couple of sites to check out her music – I listen to it that night – and am mesmerised by it.  What a voice and talent!  www.myspace.com/daligroup

At another table are a group I strike up a conversation with and join for the train leg of the return journey home with two brothers and one of their lovely wives.  They, too, are from the US (Southern California) but spend about 4-6 months travelling each year.   Chuck Angyal is a retired eco-architect and Yvonne is a designer and photographer.  They have a great philosophy about life “Our moto in life: collect as many positive experiences and friends rather than personal possessions.”   Chuck has a special place in his heart for New Zealand having travelled there many years ago and been adopted by the locals.  Some of the stories he told sounded hilarious (and just the tip of the iceberg).  You can check out some of Yvonne’s work at www.yaphotos.net

Chucks brother is equally larger than life – very down to earth.  He owned a blueberry farm in the US in a previous life so we set to talking horticulture (wish I had a pocket edition of Carolann with me for this!) and talk on the train journey home about different places we’ve been and setting the world to rights.

There are some marvels of engineering I have seen on my trip so far.  This was a chance to sample another one.  The river Douro has a series of dams and locks.  As the riverboats cruise through it, we ascend the locks.  Nothing special about that – except the sheer height of this one - 35m (the highest in Europe).  The gates close behind us and the water rises at 5m per minute (that’s a huge volume pumping in).  20 minutes later we are 35m above the river point below us and merrily on our way down the next section of river.

A great though short stay in Porto – to be commemorated with a bottle of Vintage Calem port (thanks for the recommendation, Rita (our tour commentator)).  I won’t get to knock the top off until I am safely ensconced and can share it with my next hosts in the south of France.  See you there.

 

Portugal - Ski Clube Quinta Grande - vision and follow-through

João Paulo (Jean Paul) has a beaming smile.  It’s Saturday afternoon at Ski Clube Quinta Grande and he is surrounded by his family and some of the top skiers in Europe.  There are six countries represented here today including: Portugal, France, Spain, Italy Norway and Latvia.

He takes me into the house and shows me some very important photos and memorabilia.  A black and white photo of a strong looking skier in 1959 – his Father . The Simeos family are synonymous with Water skiing in Portugal.  Jean Paul explains.  "We used to ski together at a place called Cascais Bay.  I calculated how much I spent on the family about water skiing..."  (interesting he calculated this in hours rather than dollars).  “...I thought, if I invest some time and money into something that will make this more efficient and pay back then why not.”

One thing you learn very quickly about the Simoes is that they never stand still.  I have been here for a week and see that same trait in 3 generations of them. 

 

So Jean Paul, his two sons and daughter got to work.  They invested in part of an old farm (4000 hectares) as part of a trust.  There was a road being moved after large flooding in the mid 1990's  where one of the large rice fields flooded.  He saw this chance with the earth moving equipment and trucks that were brought in for the road.  Over the space of 3 months in 1996 they built the lake - 100m wide, 700m long and 1.5m deep.  And so Ski Clube Quinta Grande was born. 

Even then, Jean Paul would not have imagined he would be where he is today.  His son Francisco

picked up the mantle and (almost) single handily has turned his Father’s vision into a very well run and exceptional ski school that breeds champions.

Today the weather is good.  Francisco is relieved – this is the weekend of one of the European ski championships at the lake and he has over 30 skiers from 5 different countries competing. 

The Simoes family is strongly represented in the Portuguese team – with Jean Pauls 6 grandchildren in attendance and 5 of them skiing. 

Jean Paul closes the photo album having shown me the photos of the club and lake being established.  He is off to say hello to the many skiers who appreciate him as the patriarch of this place and to give his son some words of encouragement.

Francisco is both energetic, strong and humble.  He is a champion himself and, Jean Paul let’s me into a secret ‘if you can trick ski, you learn balance, the rest, slalom and jump come easier.  That’s why I put my focus into getting them to learn trick.”

Francisco and Marta Simeos -

There a photos on the club house wall of Andy Mapple (Water skiing’s legend) with his arm around Franciso at one of the events.  There’s the many trophies and cups and a poster of the Under 21 2013 European Champion – Francisco’s daughter Marta. 

This place just goes to show what vision and follow-through can result in.

There is a family atmosphere here – even among all of the competitors (some of which have been coming here for over 10 years to be coached by Francisco).  Each one of these competitors has a smile on their face, a determined look in their eye – and will be back again next year.

Ski Clube Quinta Grande is a special place made, maintained and used by some very special people.  Good luck for the World's next year Marta!

 

Portugal and a lesson in physics

Ask Marta Simoes if she knows much about bio-mechanics and she smiles and shakes her head. It’s not her English comprehension of the question.  While Portuguese, her English is excellent.

Yet the physics of what she can do are mind bending.

Let’s start with some pictures first – because this topic can be a little dry without them.

Marta Simoes - in action on the lake at Clube Quinta Grande - Coruche, Portugal (note: no ducks were harmed in the making of this post)

 

 

Your turn

Here’s a little test for you.  You have 16 seconds to read the following and comprehend it.

·         A ski boat (in this case a 409 horse power V8) goes in a straight line down a 259 metre course. 

·         on each side of the course are 3 buoys, six in total that the skier must successfully ski around the outside of

·         There are start and finish gates at each end that the skier must pass through to have successfully completed their run

·         The width of the start and end entrance and exit gates is 1.25m

·         The width between the buoys is 23m in total (11.5m from the buoy to the centre line of the boat)

·         The “down course” distance between the buoys on the course is 41m

·         The boat is travelling down the course at a consistent 55 kph (in Marta’s case)

·         It  tows a skier on a tow-line that starts at  18.25 meters long and is progressively shortened each time the skier successfully negotiates the course

·         The shorter lengths of the rope barely stretch from the boat to the buoy (in the case of her personal best of 2 buoys on the 11.25m line it doesn’t even do that!)

·         With the boat pulling her straight down the course, she needs to accelerate to speeds 1.5 – 2x the speed of the boat to make it to the next buoy on the course, decelerate to turn then accelerate across the wake again before repeating the manoeuvre. 

The speeds, distances and times go something like this.

·         Decelerate to around 30kph to turn at the buoy.

·         Set herself up at an angle that’s around 60 degrees to the boat

·         Accelerate from 30kph to around 85-90kph+ in the 11.5m from the buoy to the centreline of the course (that takes under 0.75 of a second to do)

·         At the peak of acceleration, she is pulling about 4Gs

·         Then decelerates to make the next turn

There is no other sport (including Formula 1 motor racing) where the acceleration is that fast.

Her arm is an extension of the rope – it’s the only way she can reach out wide enough to get the ski around the buoy.

 

Why the 16 second time limit to this little comprehension test?  - Because that’s the amount of time it takes the boat to get through the entire course from the start gate to the finish gate at that speed.  Marta has repeated this marvel of physics and endurance 6 times in that 16 seconds.  She then has 60 seconds to recover and repeat it again.  This time with a shorter rope

…and she makes it look easy.

But then again she should.  Marta, at 17 years old, was the 2013 European under 21 Women’s slalom champion.  You can read more about Marta at http://www.martasimoes.com/

While strong and fit – she’s certainly no gorilla.  Her secret is perfect form and perfect timing (and the requisite 10,000 hours plus to be an expert).  Marta has been skiing since the age of 2 and slalom skiing since the age of 7.

Her coach and father, Franciso looks up as Marta finishes her set and he brings the boat into the dock. While I am at the opposite end of the ability continuum (in fact not even on the same page), I am next up. No pressure!  

This is Clube Quinta Grande in Coruche Portugal (50 minutes out of Lisbon). It is a water ski school that breeds champions.  I am privileged enough to be here for a week for a coaching session with Francisco.  I am at the opposite end of the spectrum to those he usually trains.  Yet his style and ability means he can translate and relate to all levels. 

It also turns out, fortuitously, that there is a European Tournament at the club on Saturday, the day after my coaching finishes.  A chance to hang around, see some fantastic skiing and play unofficial photographer.

 

 

Barcelona - let's get somthing straight

 It’s a Friday  in Barcelona and my first day here (I arrived late yesterday afternoon).  My back has been getting progressively worse –which I put down to too many hours in planes, trains and automobiles, lugging a pack around and sleeping in different beds (some of which have been shorter than me).

I’ve held off getting it seen to but next week I am scheduled to be on a water ski coaching workshop in Portugal (as you do) and I really need to get this seen to before I start playing a tug of war with a boat.

 

This has been coming for some time as my back has been getting progressively worse and my right hand side is locked up.  Time for some maintenance.  With only three days in Barcelona and arriving late on a Thursday afternoon, I have one working day to find someone who can help.

 

The joys of the internet.  Reading through a swathe of bio and business details for Osteopaths in Barcelona, there is an article I chance upon written by and English woman who now practices in Barcelona, Kathryn (Katy) McConkey.

I email her explaining my plight and the logistical challenge that I do not have a local phone number but do have email  She emails me back saying she can see me at 3.00pm.

 

Katy is a consummate professional and great at what she does.  It’s not just a question of where I feel sore, it’s a set of other questions that I think are oblique about my health and general travelling and any diet or sickness during the trip.  Turns out the holistic approach works (now there's a surprise). She checks out my back.  Sure enough, locked up from bottom to top on the right  Her prognosis is that the back is not physically misaligned, rather it’s a case of some inflammation originally from the kidney that has led to some muscular lock-up.  An hour later, some stretching, manipulation and pressure point work later and I can start to feel it say hello again. 

 

When I ask about swimming locally, she suggests a couple of places and suggests it would be great exercise for getting the back stretched out and working again..

Katy has been here for 22 years.  “I originally came here for a year or two to learn Spanish.  Then…well I sort of stayed here – didn’t really intend to.”  She originally started out as a teacher and changed profession to become an Osteopath.  She worked with a local practice for sometime and then branched out by herself. Katy has been in private practice for a year and a half now.  While a wonderful location (near the waterfront), her lease prevents her from having any signage outside so business is largely referrals, current clients or internet (for those who chance upon her like me).

She speaks with a soft and indeterminate Mediterranean accent.  Any hint of her British accent softened by the sun here.

“I’m thinking of going back to the UK.”

There’s not a lot of conviction in the statement.

Katy gives me some insights into what it’s like to establish and run a small business in Spain and, in particular, Barcelona.  While the leisure and travel around Spain strikes me as idyllic any notion of a future here with a business is quickly put in perspective. 

For anyone who finds themselves in need of back/spinal or alignment work while in Barcelona, I highly recommend Katy. It is great to have an English speaking practitioner that can help you out in foreign lands. She has given me a fighting chance of surviving a week behind a boat next week. 

http://www.barcelona-metropolitan.com/locations/Kathryn-McConkey-osteopath-osteopatia-barcelona/

http://www.osteopatiacentro.com/

 

 

 

 

 

Barcelona - unfinished business

The Spanish smile – as ready as a breeze rippling across water.

 Welcome to Barcelona.  You are forgiven for thinking that you are in a country called Catalonia rather than Spain – such is the regional parochialism.

Not a frenetic pace nor hustle.  A laid back atmosphere and sea breeze.

This is the Mediterranean.

There’s an invisible force-field here that prevents me from doing the tick box tourism routine of writing a “must-see list” and madly rushing around and ticking it off.

Barcelona deserves to be breathed deeply like the sea air. 

My three days here is not nearly enough and I enter into a contract with the place that I will be back.  Nothing so formal as a signed piece of paper – not the way things are done around more – more a handshake…and a smile.  With that, it’s sealed.

Come for a walk with me.  Initially we’re not going far – just to the balcony. This is my view each morning as I do my yoga. 

Sagrada Familia(r)

Charly was brought up in this Barcelona apartment building since he was 4 years old. He is now 28 and has his own apartment in the complex.  The balcony door lets in a familiar sound every hour of church bells.  The remainder of the time are the noises of drills, saws, grinders and general construction.  He’s familiar with it – it has been going on his whole life.  Charly lives one block away and in sight of the majestic Sagrada Familia.

Whether your regard this as the most modern day feat of crowd sourced funding and engineering or the most overrun engineering/building project in the world, Sagrada Familia is something to behold.

Looking almost organic, the stonework looks less like a formula and more like something straight out of a Dr Seuss book.

Ask Charly when it’s due to be finished and he just smiles. He doesn’t necessarily believe the 1^st quarter deadline of this century.  He may get to see it in his lifetime but he’s not holding his breath.

The organic look outside is contrasted by the interior.  Neo- gothic is the closest description – Gaudi’s masterpiece and a jewel in the crown of Barcelona. Commissioned in 1882, 170m tall and still under construction.  The queues outside for tickets start to congregate around 9.00 am and do not dissipate until around 7.00pm (it closes at 8.00pm).  Worth the queue – but I jump it by buying my ticket on-line and entering the cathedral at 9.30 am – before the crowds manage to get inside en masse. 

 
 

Inside – contemporary proof that man has not lost the art of turning stone into something living.  It is majestic.  Having had the privilege of seeing the result of faith built in stone across continents and millennia in my last 8 weeks and 10 countries of travel – this rivals the best.  I have just come here from Istanbul  where I witnessed the Aya Sofia and Blue Mosque.  This one is yet another filter on religion–and breath-taking.

 Somehow this building that is actually more art than architecture permeates through the Barcelona skyline and architectural DNA of the city  Many countries have old and new side-by-side  - a disruption and dislocation of form.  Barcelona somehow escapes that with a limbo that creates a visual Rosetta stone-  translating and traversing from old to new.  Much of that is a formula that Spain has Antoni Gaudi to thank for it.

 As if to add to the enigma, Gaudii’s home (now a museum) is situated in a Dr Seuess-meets nature-type part called Park Guell.  His house is relatively minimalist – almost Spartan.  This contrasts with his other creations though gives more of a picture of the man.  Like some other architects of faith (refer separate post), Gaudi turns his focus outward and chooses austerity for his own comfort.  A renaissance man in approach, he also designed the furniture for each of the buildings and houses he created – taking his queues largely from nature. 

 

His view of balance was that a home should only be 1/6^th the size of the footprint of the land it occupied, the rest dedicated to nature and worship of its form.  I visit each location in that order – Sagrada Famila first then Park Guell and his museum second – and am pleased  that I’ve chanced upon this order.

What else?

 The remainder of my time in Barcelona is spread across some self-maintenance (see separate post on “lets get something straight”) and sampling another sea in the form of the Mediterranean. 

Let’s continue there first.
 

There is a pace and style of the people here that is to be envied.  Along with the ready smiles is a jeux de vivre (sorry, my Spanish doesn’t extend to the relevant translation). 

This is a tourist town but does not compromise a local feel and places in being so.    There’s something about Europe I sense where tourists tend to congregate to crowds. Like attracts like and this can be found on the waterfront and corresponding (clean and pristine) beaches near the marinas and world trade centre (at the Northern) end of the beach in Barcelona.

Beaches – pristine and sparkling

Let’s head south – after all, I am a farming lad from a sparsely populated country and don’t tend to gravitate to crowds.  I was also immersed from an early age in foreign cultures and tend to seek out the local places and sights rather than those more heavily trodden by foreign foot fall. 

We head south – we can either walk along the coastline (for a leisurely and beautiful golden sand meets crystal sea beachside walk) or fast track ourselves by taking the L4 Metro line in the La Pau direction and getting off at the El Maresme Forum.  I have a 10 trip public transport ticket worth 10 Euro to use up so opt for this method of transport.

There are 10 beaches in total in the Barcelona town area stretching north to south across 4.5km of coastline. The southern most are frequented by locals.  Each is beside the next separated by a breakwater.  While many don’t associate Barcelona with pristine swimming beaches, the world has a lot to thank the Barcelona Olympics for.  These are some of the most pristine, clean and swimmer friendly beaches to be found in a major city in the World. 

 While I need no excuse for a sea-swim (it always recharges my batteries), this is a green script from my Osteopath.  “It will help stretch out your back” (and it does). 

 The second-to-last beach is a nudist beach and I studiously avoid this lest I have some explaining to do later.  I needn’t have bothered.  Barcelona sells bikinis as separate tops and bottoms.  Clearly many of the local ladies are on a budget as attested by all the 3-4 local beaches at the southern end.  Not sure whether it’s my conservative upbringing or my last point of departure (Istanbul), but this amount of natural skin is foreign to me.  It soon becomes apparent to me that this is all quite natural around here and I soon get into the swing of things (so to speak)[no, I do remain with a degree of modesty separating torso and legs].

Each beach has a lifeguard, a marked-out swimming area within a breakwater and (as at September 6  2014) 25 degree, clean, clear and sandy bottomed water 

There are showers and toilets and it’s very swimmer and beach-bum friendly.  The thing that does surprise me at this end of the bay is the lack of crowds. 

Green prescription duly filled 1 km in the water later and I stroll the leisurely walk back to town in 28 degree sunshine, working on my tan on the way.  Life’s a beach!

 

Las Ramblas

Slightly inland from the beach and within “stretching” distance from my newly found osteopath is a labyrinth of culture and (calm) retail aptly called Las Ramblas (the rambles). 

You can quite happily lose yourself in here for hours – soaking up the sights, vibe and shops.  In fact, you don’t even need to buy too much.  This is not the artificial shopping mall – rather a party atmosphere that lets you either explore and find treasures in local designer shops or live life vicariously by sitting outside sipping wine, beer or sangria at one of the local cafes (perchance what I’m doing right now as I write this). 

If art appreciation is your thing, stop off at the Picasso museum - it’s right here.  The Dali museum is a further across town.

 

 

 

Let’s get back to the people

After all, that’s what I find so attractive about this place.  It’s hard to put a finger on it – it’s not the classical beauty of the Italians  or the French dress sense.    I’m lost for a single descriptor ; an older generation might use the word “sassy”.

A burly guy walks past.  Both of his hands are full.  Held as gently as an egg (and about the same size) dwarfed in his left hand is his daughter’s hand.  There’s music in her head and she’s dancing to it; I think it’s a rumba.  In his right hand, a larger package, but held equally tenderly, the hand of his wife.  This turns out to be a pretty common sight everywhere I go.

This is a race that loves life.

 

 

Moving on

Chalk Barcelona up to unfinished business.  I have a tug of war with a boat booked for a week in Portugal.  My flight’s at 7.00 am tomorrow,  taxi booked for 5.15am then on the ski behind the boat for my first set before lunch time.   Who said this was all leisure ;0)

Turkish coffee - just like a kidney punch

It is my last night in Istanbul.
Fortuitously on my way back to the Ferry I walk past the local railway station and see a sign advertising The Whirling Dervish.  Ten minutes before they start - why not?

Now, for those of you who think this is a dessert, think again.  The Dervish are a group of the Mevlevi order famous for their hypnotic dance of continuous circles/whirling until they work themselves into a trance like state (and therefore closer to God).

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mevlevi_Order

Where's the Coffee?
Exactly my question.  In addition to the 1 hour display, there is free tea or Turkish coffee before the show starts. 
I ask for the latter and get given the former.  There is a look of disbelief when I ask for the coffee. 
The (apple) chai (Tea) is nice. 

The Whirling Dervish display is quite surreal - they do actually spin for around 40 minutes in one direction and speed up as they go.  You can see the younger ones (the juniors?) watching the tips of their fingers on the leading hand (both arms are stretched out parallel to their shoulders).  Over time this shifts into a soft mid-length and unfocussed gaze.  They really do look like they've hypnotised themselves. 

After the show and as everyone is packing up and the (approximately 40) spectators are decamping, a gentleman approaches me and asks in a conspiratorial whisper "You drink Turkish coffee?" 
"Yes," says I.
Either he appreciates my fortitude or has a medical background and can detect the signs of withdrawal symptoms. 
He leads me into the kitchen in one of the annexes off the hall.  He builds me said coffee and hands it to me and rushes off to help clean up. 

Now a Turkish coffee looks benign enough - then again, the same can be said of an unexploded hand-grenade.
 

How to describe it.  Well...

• imagine a French press. 
• Instead of the actual press, just take the ingredients - a lot of fine coffee grounds and hot water (about a ratio of 1/3 to 2/3).
• Now put both of these in a cup that holds about the same as a shot glass (a useful comparison on a number of levels)
• Serve with a glass of cold water alongside
• (stirring is optional by the way)

The person consuming this concentrate drinks the coffee, alternating with sips of the water to remove the fine coffee grounds that are sticking to the teeth.  There's no spitting out here - a case of swirling the grounds around before swallowing and repeating the process until all that's left is a sludge of coffee grounds in the bottom of the cup.


I drink it.  I love it.  I've developed a taste for it over my stay in Istanbul.





There's no-one around so I leave 5 Turkish Lira under the cup, hoping any spillage doesn't dissolve it.  He arrives just as I am leaving and shouts out.  Not a word of English - just a shake of the head and hands me back the money.  This was for me as a treat.  He smiles - evidently I have passed the initiation ceremony and he's expecting to see me on the floor next week as a newly conscripted member of the Dervish. 

It's been an "Alice in Wonderland" kind of day.  I decide to top this off in the most appropriate fashion and head off to find a traditional café serving Hookah pipes.

Communications – the saga of Telco’s continues

Funny story. Well, almost. 

I arrive in Istanbul needing to contact my host and knowing that it’s a big city and some access to google maps might be useful.  In Kadakoy I rock up to the Vodafone banner I can see on the skyline.  Turns out the shop below the banner is their competitor, TurkCell and Vodafone has done the equivalent of the first letter in their name by renting the air space above the Turkcell shop.  This should have been an omen.  I didn’t read it properly. 

I ask for a good data plan, with some local calling capability.  There is a package “on promotion” [I’m fast learning this is code for “with strings attached”] which includes 1GB of data and 500 free local call minutes for 50 Turkish Lira ($25.00 or thereabouts).  Only here for 6 days but that’s an investment I’m willing to make to be in contact with the world and an e-compass

“That will do just fine.” 

Then the fun starts.  The guy hands me the SIM package, I hand it back and ask him to insert the SIM and configure it to show me data and phone working.  He spends 30 minutes attempting to do so with much muttering and shaking of his head.  Eventually he walks outside of the shop to continue.  This makes sense as it’s probably more line of sight to Mecca and divine intervention- because he clearly needs it.  Eventually he gives up and hands the phone to a colleague.  She does something similar (the pilgrimage outside is obviously a common part of the methodology).  They hand it to a 3^rd colleague who plays with it for 5 minutes then walks over to me.  In very broken English “This no work.  There not enough credit. “  As if to illustrate the point he dials a number which shows me that I have 18 lira on the account, not the requisite 20 I need to accommodate the “special deal.”  He demands 15 lira for a top up to make it work. 

“I have not touched the phone since I bought the package deal.  If anyone has used credit it is your colleagues trying to configure it!” I reason.  He shakes his head “You pay 15 lira.”

“No”

It becomes a Turkish stand-off.  When it becomes apparent that I’m not leaving before it’s working and not paying another cent (or lira), he mutters something, loads the SIM into his phone, punches something in (loading credit I presume) re-loads the SIM into my iPhone and throws it at me. “Working” he grunts.

 Service with a smile.

 I later find out that this is a frequent occurrence with TurkCell.  Then again, having not tested the others, not sure whether they are any better?

Turkey and arresting stares

At 5’11” with long dark hair, Teresa gets a lot of attention as she walks purposefully on her way to the ferry terminal at Kadakoy on the Asian side of Istanbul .  A lot of it is unwanted attention.

She takes it in her stride. While a relatively young 28 years old, she has a life well lived already under her belt and is onto her second career.  This maturity and ability to adapt show through as she negotiates in Turkish with a local shopkeeper. He makes the (potentially fatal) mistake of initially taking her as a fresh tourist then wisely backs down and sells her the item for the local price – about ½ what he was trying to charge.

I have adopted Teresa (or is it the other way around)?  She is a bit of a secret weapon for me - someone who knows the Turkish culture and can speak the language – and has an interesting story to tell.  It’s a symbiotic relationship.  She has recently had a bad injury (a fall down 7 flights of stairs) and welcomes the company as she looks at new apartments.  The hospital physicians marvel at how she didn’t break her back in the fall.  Three days later, we are plying the streets and I’m walking quickly to keep up with her.

While tall with a striking figure, she has an unassuming manner and a ready smile.  She is modest and it takes a few days to get a picture of the iceberg under the surface of an unflappable personality.  One of 5 siblings raised by their Mother (having lost her Father at 13), Teresa joined the Police force in the UK when she was 17.  Her talents were recognised and through hard work, study and recognition she rose fairly rapidly through the ranks and specialist areas of responsibility.  For someone young she has seen more than her share of society’s underbelly – especially as one of the senior officers and investigators into Child sex offending. 

Eleven years into her police career and having seen enough pain and suffering, she needed a refresh and has taken up the role of an English language teacher.  Not one to pass up on a challenge, she elected Turkey for this chapter in her life and has learnt the lot of being a single female in this country.

“It’s a stop gap measure really.  I just need to clear my head and do something different to work out what I should go back to.”  Yep, that sounds very familiar. 

 

At under 30 she has been a senior member of the UK Police and a qualified social worker. She may return to the UK and work for an NGO or, her passion, integrated social services for at-risk youth “…but not directly for the Police again.”

 A young head on wise shoulders. 

We sit down to catch our collective breath at the water front near the Maiden’s Tower (on the Asian side of Istanbul).  While it is a relatively calm (it’s a word used advisedly in Istanbul) place, there are a travelling side show of street vendors who are kind enough to walk around and come to you to ply their wares.  There’s coffee (which I partake of – it’s great), food and red roses.  We get singled out by a few of the rose sellers. My shaking of the head is trumped by Teresa’s one word answer to all of the women trying to sell us flowers.  A useful word, I must learn it – if it works so well.  She utters “Baba” they look at her then me, nod then walk off.   

In the end after the 3^rd such intervention, I ask her what it means as I might apply it to the next coffee trader who passes across my bow. 

“I wouldn’t” Teresa laughs. “I’m telling them you are my Dad!” 

Thanks! 

I reconcile it to myself by figuring that with her background and training she has a skill in applying the quickest and easiest way to diffuse a situation. Either that or I have to get this bloody haircut sorted out.

Teresa has just taken up a new teaching post – she has a contract offered to her for a year though will re-evaluate in 4 months to see.

She is of an age and stage where she’s ready to settle down and think about a life partner and children.  While not on the horizon yet, both will, I venture to say, be pretty special.