Your Coup Cannot Destroy My Turkey

While I have not experienced a lot of conflict in my life/travels nor am I stranger to it. I was evacuated from Belgrade in February 2008 when, as a result of the US's recognition of Kosovo's independence a group of people tried to burn down the US embassy. I was in Kabul in December 2011 for the Ashura suicide bombing. I have been in Istanbul for more than three years now and lived through Gezi and the summer of tear gas, both Sultanahmet suicide bombings, the suicide bombing on Istiklal-a seven minute walk from my apartment-the attack on the Ataturk International Airport, and a variety of protests. However the July 15 coup attempt was my first coup.

After Friday night, which was the most terrifying experience of my life-surpassing even that time I thought I was going to die on the Great Wall of China-I don't know why people would choose to go to an air show. Well, really even before Friday I couldn't understand that, but hearing the screams of the F16 and the resultant sonic booms many of thought were bombs I don't know why someone would willing want to listen to that. The next morning many discussions on Facebook groups and from my friends were about leaving Turkey. This coup, be it a real attempt or Erdogan theater (which I think more likely), this was the straw that broke the camel's back for many people. However when people ask me if I plan to leave I just look at them quizzically and say "No. Why would I do that?"

To be fair to the discussion, I am planning to leave Turkey. I decided this last fall when I realized that I want to be a sommelier and do my training in Italy; but this failed coup attempt will neither push me out faster nor will it change the fact that I'll probably be back. Why not? Because this, this country of coups, failing democracy, violence, and a willful retreat into the dark ages is not my Turkey.

The Bosphorus and the Seraglio Point from Galatasaray

Kiz Kulesi/Maiden's Tower

My Turkey is beautiful. It's where I can be awed time and again by the magic of the Bosphorus and the iconic images of the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque. It's where you can cruise the Bosphorus to watch for dolphins and appreciate the beautiful, elaborate palaces and architecture along this ancient waterway.

Mount Nemrut

Celsus Library at Ephesus

It is timeless and melds cultures from across history. The Ottoman Empire, which ended not even 100 years ago (in 1922 to be exact) encompassed a vast array of peoples and cultures which is part of what made the modern Turkish nation so great-whether or not anyone wants to remember that. Turkey is home to some of the world's most amazing Greco/Roman ruins including Ephesus, the best preserved Greco-Roman ruins in the Aegean as well as empires like the Selcuks who fell to the Romans even before Ephesus was standing.

Hagia Sophia

Chora Church

My Turkey was the cradle of Christianity. There are over 100 churches in Istanbul alone. Granted many have been converted to mosques and/or museums but they're still standing; including the Hagia Sophia-one of the oldest churches in the world. Across the Marmara Sea is the city of Iznik, famous not just for its beautiful blue and white tiles but for once being Nicea where the fathers of the Eastern and Western Christian churches met and formalized the faith. If you fly into Izmir to visit Ephesus you're actually flying into the ancient Biblical city of Smyrna and while you're in Ephesus you can visit nearby Meryamana-the house where the Mother of God lived with Saint John before her assumption. You can visit cave churches of early Christians around the country, most famously in Cappadocia or, if you really like to walk, follow the path of Saint Paul across the country.

It is the home to some of of the most beautiful and mysterious natural land formations like the limestone travertines of Pamukkale which gleam like snow under the sun and the fairy chimneys of Cappadocia. Turkey is where tulips were first mass grown and in fact introduced the flower to the Dutch. While the Dutch now surpass them in tulip production, Turkey is still one of the world's top tulip growers, holds a tulip festival every year that blankets the city in color, and incorporates the flower in many of its most traditional motifs.

My Turkey is friendly and hospitable. It's where within five minutes of arriving at your family-run cave hotel in Cappadocia you're holding the baby and are part of the family. It's where that family goes out of its way to make sure you get a booking for the hot air balloons despite the atrocious weather because its your little brother's first trip abroad and he has to have this experience; and where airport ticket agents try hard to get you an exit row seat because that same "little" brother is 6'7". It's where the guys at your favorite bufe go the extra mile and make your orange juice fancy because its your birthday and where shops and cafes you regularly frequent go out of their way to remember your order or provide extra special service.

Cat at Ephesus

Language school cat, Aslan

My Sherlock

My Turkey is also where that hospitality extends to animals and where people care for stray animals, especially cats, in a way I have never seen anywhere else. It's where tram drivers stop packed trains so cats can cross the tracks, where many of the local governments provide funding so street cats can receive free care, where people build shelters and leave out water and food for the cats. It's where cats are welcome in (and often cared for exclusively by) shops, cafes, museums, and historical sites. Turkey is also where I met my Sherlock who is naughty and spoiled but seeks shelter near me when the world is falling down around us and is possibly the love of my life.

 

This is where I have met amazing people, both Turkish and other foreigners. They have helped me apartment hunt, translated/interpreted for me before I learned the language, opened their homes to me, encouraged my studies in wine, and readily welcomed me into their groups in a way I never experienced in the US. I have met people here who not only embrace me as a friend but look after me like I'm family.

My Turkey is where I have had experiences I couldn't have anywhere else. When His Holiness Pope Francis came to Istanbul in 2014 I not only got a ticket to the Mass, thanks to my parish priest I also served at the Papal Mass. In 2016 I got to see the same humble, caring parish priest be ordained as Bishop of Istanbul, putting him in charge of one of the oldest Christian parishes in the world. Here I learned Turkish, or you know, learned it well enough to manage my daily life and read book 1 of Harry Potter. I have formally studied eight languages and Turkish is one of the most complicated and difficult ones; the only one in fact that gets more and not less difficult the more you learn. I probably sound like a five-year old when I talk but people are always not only willing to listen to me struggle through sentences but are happy that I'm trying.

This is my Turkey. My Turkey is ancient, beautiful, spiritual, colorful, brave, hospitable, cultured, exciting, and magical. Yes there is a terrible and dark core eating away it and it may be systematically destroyed by its own government and people but the vision and memories I have of this magnificent country cannot be destroyed no matter how many (fake) coups happen or what terror the government rains down on its own citizens. This is my Turkey, and this is how I will remember it always.

Merry Christmas! Cardamom Hot Chocolate

A few weeks ago my priest asked me if I would start singing the Psalms during Mass.  Usually only about a dozen people come to my Mass so I figured, why not? Embarrassing myself in from of 12 people isn't the end of the world. Unfortunately my debut was none other than Christmas Eve Mass. Santa Maria is a fairly small church but once you pack people into pews, set out a couple dozen extra chairs, and crowd people standing in the back there must have been at least 200 people there.

I got the Psalm and the music on the 23rd so I had a full day to practice. Which I did much to Sherlock's displeasure. I was nervous as anything but figured if I could just get the first note right then I'd be ok. Naturally I'd stressed myself into a migraine (which put a kabosh on my plans for liquid courage). To make it worse, being a high holy day the priests bust out the incense. Incense makes me sick under the best of circumstances and they got really enthusiastic with it. It was like someone had fogged the alter with it. Unfortunately the clouds of nauseous incense that were intensifying my migraine did nothing to obscure the several hundred people staring at me; nor did they hide me from them. Needless to say I did not get the first note right. I think I got it together by the first verse though.

If that weren't enough I also went to Christmas morning Mass so I had only a handful of hours to learn a new Psalm. It went much worse this morning. Much, much worse. I should have had Gluehwein with breakfast instead of coffee. I didn't manage to pull things together until round about the third verse. At least there were less people this morning.

While I couldn't go home to my family again this year, at least modern technology makes it less depressing (no more crying during Home Alone). My sister and I talked via Skype when I got home and she and my brother-in-law taunted me by showing me the ham he prepared for dinner. Then at about 1.15AM my brother set up a Google Hangout so I could talk to him, my parents, and the cousins who go to my parents' for Christmas Eve.

It being actual Christmas day and all of course we're going to talk about a hot chocolate! I enjoy cardamom in coffee so why not in chocolate? Like cayenne, cardamom is not to be used with a liberal hand. Taste and add as you go! To accompany the hot chocolate, today I'm watching my other favorite version of The Christmas Carol-Micky Mouse's.

We used to watch this every year of TV when we were kids. Then it disappeared and you couldn't find it for love or money. But Disney, not a company to miss the chance to make money any way it can, finally released it on DVD some years ago. In addition to the Christmas Carol is a short with Chip and Dale creating a ruckus with Mickey's tree and some cartoon about a donkey that we never fail to skip.

I can never decide which version I like better; the Muppets' or Mickey. The Muppet version has the fantastic ghosts and Gonzo...but it also has singing and puppets. Shudder. Mickey's version has Goofy and is what introduced Uncle Scrooge to us. I don't really like Donald (or Huey, Duey, and Louie) but I love Scrooge McDuck. I'm also less tempted to smack the Mickey Tiny Tim. I'll just have to keep watching them both year after year until I decide!

A Merry and Blessed Christmas from ParMieux Adventures!

Recipe:

• 1 Cup milk
• 1/4-ish Cup heavy cream
• 50 grams milk chocolate (chopped)
• 1 big Tablespoon dark cocoa powder
• 1/4-1/2 Teaspoon cardamom

1. Heat milk and cream until hot or just bubbling around the edges.
2. Whisk in chocolate, cocoa powder, and cardamom.
3. Add more cardamom (or not) to taste.
4. Enjoy!

Hanging With Pope Francis

A little more than a month ago, KMac posted a link to my Facebook page announcing that His Holiness Pope Francis was coming to visit me. Well not me specifically I suppose, but Turkey. I didn't figure that Mass was going to be open to the public so I started asking around right away about how to make attending a possibility and my fantastic parish priest said he would try to get me a ticket. He not only came through on the ticket but asked me to assist in the Mass.

Dude.

I arrived at Santo Espirito, the Catholic Cathedral here in Istanbul, a little before 9:00 as requested. By about 10:30 we were finally allowed in, after which my priest ran those of us helping with Communion through what were would be doing. Normally in Catholic Mass, those who may receive Communion leave their seat and queue, receive Holy Communion, then return to their seat. Probably for security people weren't allowed to do that on Saturday. So our job was to accompany a priest who would take care of several rows of seats, and assist both those who could receive Communion in coming forward as well as make sure the priest got around to everyone. I was in the balcony of the church which I think was rather an easier job than being in the main area. Since we were helping it also meant that we had to be able to get in place quickly which got us reserved seats up front. I was only three rows from the front! My view was slightly obstructed by a large pillar and a cameraman but I still managed to get a glimpse of His Holiness now and again during Mass.

Mass was to begin at 15:30 and doors opened at 13:30. Everyone's tickets were marked with the door they should use to enter; unfortunately while tickets were marked A, B, C, and D...there were only two gates and they weren't marked. So it was a mess getting in. Who was surprised?

Near Mass go time when everyone was seated (some 800+ people), His Holiness entered from the main church doors to clapping, cheering, chants of "Papa Francesco!", and people standing on their pews and chairs to get pictures of him. He was escorted fairly quickly into the sacristy to prepare for Mass which began shortly thereafter.

The entrance was impressive. Since the main purpose of his trip to Turkey was to promote Ecumenical unity amongst Christians in Turkey, leaders from other Christian churches including the Syriac Catholic, Armenian Orthodox, and Greek Orthodox (amongst others) were invited to concelebrate.  There were some spectacularly bedazzled robes happening. As is his wont, His Holiness's vestments were modest. I think it was the representative from the Armenian church maybe...wore a long mantel over his robes that was carried by assistant priests and had some serious jingle bells attached to it. Every time he moved I thought Rudolph and the other eight reindeer were going to make an entrance.


The majority of the Mass parts, at least those His Holiness said, were in Latin (as they should be darn it all). For me personally, the 'going out of the way to include all possible languages' resulted in a messy and confused thing that didn't feel like Mass. At least not to me. This actually ranks in my top five weirdest Masses. Broken down into its parts it went:

• Introductory Rite - Armenian
• Latiny Mass stuff
• Penitential Rite- Turkish
• Latiny Mass stuff
• Gloria - Latin and Turkish
• Collect - Latin
• First Reading - Spanish
• Responsorial Psalm - Arabic
• Second Reading - this seems to have been cut from the Mass
• Gospel - Turkish then Italian
• Homily - His Holiness said his homily in Italian (see here for English translation) and our Bishop did a second homily in Turkish
• Prayers of the Faithful - Italian, French, Arabic, Turkish, English, Spanish (one each)
• Eucharistic Liturgy-Latin
• Sanctus - Armenian
• Communion Rite - Latin
• Agnus Dei - Turkish
• Conclusion Rite - Latin

Just stop messing with me and put everything back to Latin! A lot of people have complaints about the Pope Emeritus and I was a little skeptical about him myself until I found out that he fed the stray cats that hang out in the Fora in Rome (there's even a children's book about him as told by a cat-it's awesome); but he was a big proponent of celebrating the Mass in Latin and made it easier for churches to do so. I will always like him for that. And the cats.

Sadly, the Mass, though an amazing and awesome experience, was a bit of a let down for me. Part of it was that it was difficult to follow, jumping from one language to the next as it did. It didn't help that I was seated near groups of Italians who will persist in talking (again-who's surprised?) regardless of where they are. I think the world has this image of Italians being super Catholic, and I did too before I started attending Masses with them. In Medjugorje they are a scourge and KMac and I had a hard time holding onto our holiness with them around. This was a Papal Mass though. A PAPAL MASS! and they were chatting! I just...no, dudes. No. With the chatting, people constantly shoving through the narrow aisles jostling those of us along the sides as they jockeyed for position to take a picture, and losing my place when the Mass took a turn to a language I don't know; there were just too many disruptions for me to lose myself to the experience.

Even with my mom reminding me that the Papal Mass fulfilled my Sunday obligation I decided to go to Mass again Sunday and I'm so glad I did. I'd forgot that Sunday was the first day of Advent. It was also the feast day of Saint Andrew (the Apostle) and therefore my name day (which my priest pointed out to me after Mass). Aaand everyone from my parish who was at the Papal Mass was also in Mass on Sunday so if I hadn't shown up I'd have looked like a real slacker.

My mom said she'd spoken to a number of people back in the States who were all wondering why His Holiness was visiting Turkey. The main purpose was to encourage and promote Christian unity, to bring together both leaders and practitioners of all the Christians, Catholics, Orthodox, and the various Protestants alike. He also made statements extolling Muslim leaders to condemn terrorism and help stop the ISIS attacks in Syria and in Turkish border towns. But why the heck wouldn't he come here, is what I want to know. We may be the minority and we may not be able to practice our religion(s) openly but there are still a fair number of Christians here. Personally I hope his visit serves as reminder to President Erdogan, who not too long ago declared that Christianity isn't a real religion, that we are here and the world knows there are Christians here.

I also appreciate the moral support. It's not like we're living in Saudi Arabia or anything and despite the increasing Islamization here we're still allowed to practice other religions; sort of. I've spoken before about how non Muslims aren't allowed to practice their religions outside the compounds of their churches and synagogs etc. That extends even to priestly vestments. My priest, who is Franciscan and therefore wears the traditional brown monk habit with rope belt and long hood, told me that he felt very self-conscious the day of the Mass because it was one of the only times in the 11 years he's lived here that he has worn his robes off church grounds. Outside of special circumstances, such as a Papal visit, such a thing is forbidden here. Similarly, while I have seen nuns wearing veils I've never seen one in full habit.

Regardless of why he was here, how I felt about the Mass, or my personal concerns about the future of Christianity in Turkey (which once was the very cradle thereof); I am blessed and appreciative of the opportunity I had to not only attend but assist in a Papal Mass. It is something I will not soon forget.


The full Mass can be viewed on YouTube.

On a related note (related only because there was someone playing one before Mass) I've decided to take up the ney which is a traditional Turkish flute (looks like a recorder). Sherlock is so not going to like this. But then I don't like it when she uses her lethal claws to climb up my leg which she will insist in doing so...even Stevens.

An Adventure of Sherlock Meows

It's taken me forever to get started on my Cappadocia adventure posts because I've had a traumatic week. The nightmare I've had since moving into this apartment came true. No, I didn't fall down the stairs (that's not really a nightmare, merely a fact waiting to be true). The nightmare is, Sherlock escaped from the terrace.

One of her more favorite, inconvenient for me, hangouts

Raccoon, a gift from KMac, is her favorite toy.

When I first moved in here she was terrified of the terrace and would hide under the couch whenever I opened the door. I wish we could go back to those days. The last few months she wakes me up before I'm ready to be awake and immediately runs for the top step to yowl her displeasure until I open the terrace door to let her out. When she first started going out I thought maybe I should finally get a collar for her or get a kitty leash (my vet does sell them) but people told me I was being ridiculous. Even my friend and fellow cat owner who used to live in this apartment scoffed at me. Her cat Jimmy escaped from the terrace once or twice and ended up on a neighboring terrace only to be put out on the street by those people.

Sigh, if only that's all that happened to Sherlock.

Tuesday night Sherlock and I were enjoying sunset on the terrace. While I was using Twitter to make everyone jealous of my drinking wine while watching the sun set behind the iconic Sultanahmet, Sherlock was prowling along the narrow ledge of my neighbor's sun room. I hate it when she does that. A while later I noticed I hadn't seen her in a while and began calling. Usually if I call enough she'll find me to see what I want and why I'm interrupting her fun. Even when I'm inside and she's on the terrace she runs down the stairs every half hour or so to check in. I called and called. No Sherlock. My friends told me to stop being silly, that she'd fallen asleep on the other side of the sun room or was messing with me and she'd come home. So despite the threat of rain I left the terrace door open that night, hoping she would wake me up in the middle of the night walking on my head the way she does.

No such luck.

The box KMac shipped it in is her 2nd favorite

What's in there and why can't I catch it?!

I woke up before 6 AM Wednesday to still no Sherlock. I searched the terrace again and trudged down the five flights of stairs to search the streets. Nothing. I had to get ready for my first day of a new Turkish class but when I got back that afternoon I searched the streets some more with equally bad luck. Back up on the terrace I noticed the older woman on the terrace over and down (mine's the highest building on the block) was on her terrace so I called down to ask if she'd seen a small black and brown cat.

She had in fact. She said she saw a cat walking along the small ledge of the sun room and then jump down. And then a lot of words I didn't understand accompanied by pointed at what looked to be a hole that her building had been built around and was badly covered with chicken wire.

Her new favorite hangout

The toys she brings to play with in bed while I'm trying to sleep

I got my downstairs neighbor and we went next door to talk to the woman. There were just too many words I didn't know coming out of her so I needed the help. She took us to the building basement where, if Sherlock really had fallen, is where she'd likely end up. We searched the shaft and the basement but neither saw nor heard her. It didn't surprise me though because I figured if she were ok that all the voices would scare her too much into to responding. I couldn't get the old woman to stop talking though so we left empty handed. My neighbor helped me do another street search and talk to the local cat lady who takes care of the street cats and some of the guys who hang out in the nearby tea house. Thursday I expanded my search of the streets wandering farther around the neighborhood stopping to ask in at restaurants and tea houses where I basically got the same response to my 'have you seen my cat' question. And that was that there are a lot of cats around here.

A closed terrace door will not deter her

Just hanging out, planning evil

Friday I checked the streets again on my way to/from class. While waiting for my neighbor to come home (so I could drag her next door to check that basement again) I heard a very loud yowling in the stairwell. That turned out to be my neighbors giant ginger cat which had somehow got out. I chased him down the lobby and hauled him back upstairs to her place. Something made me go back down though. I hadn't fully investigated my building's basement yet because it's kinda scary. Like a Michigan basement on a roid rage. And the lights don't work. I was pretty sure Pennywise was down there somewhere...

The older man on the first floor, who is basically a hobbit he's so short, heard me calling Sherlock's name and went into the basement with me. After a cursory check he declared her not there but I thought I heard a faint something. I called her name and once again heard a faint mewl. Through a bloody wall. She WAS in the neighbor basement. Luckily there already seemed to be a hole in the wall between the buildings and my hobbit neighbor helped remove the bars and plywood blocking the hole. Sherlock, being contrary, refused to come to me so I had to clamber through the wall. It looks my basement is on level with next door's first floor because coming out of the short tunnel into the air shaft I saw what looked to be another 8 to 10 foot drop below. Sherlock apparently hadn't fallen the entire way so it was no wonder we didn't see her in the basement on Wednesday. I finally got hold of her and crawled back through the hole in the wall.

Gonna be a little while before she's let out again

Other than being a little more clingy than usual and cuddling with me all night, Sherlock seems generally unharmed. I'm likely more traumatized than she is. I'll take her to the vet once this week's torrential rains cease just to make sure (and maybe to get her a flea dip) but within a few hours of being home she was already on the steps leading up to the terrace demanding to be let out. That is unlikely to happen for a little while.

So while Facebook jokes fly about Sherlock having seen so many movies and TV episodes starring her namesake that she felt compelled to go off on her own adventure (The Kitteh Waterfalls, The Case of the Missing Neighbor Cat, The Triumph of Sherlock Meows), I'm just happy she's home!

One happy kitteh mama

One utterly unconcerned kitteh

Return to Tbilisi with a Stopover in Mtskheta

Just shy of two years after my first trip to Tbilisi I was happy to being visiting again, in much better weather this time too! We started out morning with breakfast in a kitchen that was almost literally the size of my entire two-bedroom, bath and a half apartment. Swoon! Multiple ovens! Multiple refrigerators! Wrap around counters! An island!!!

Sorry, this is supposed to be about Tbilisi, not my kitchen jealousy! After breakfast we decided, at the urging of our host, to first visit the Jvari Monastery and Mtskheta, the old capital of Georgia. I was quiet glad we listened to her as, not only was the monastery lovely, the view of Mtskheta from it was stunning.

View of Mtskheta from Jvari

Somewhat surprisingly for me, while editing my pictures I refrained from using any of the color effects I normally like to use. And of the hundreds of pictures I took this week, I converted only two to black and white. This first one, one of the out buildings of Jvari, just seemed to want to be black and white.

In Mtskheta, which is now a UNESCO World Heritage site, we visited another church (sensing a theme to our vacation?!), the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral, one of the most important churches in Georgian Orthodoxy. The current church was built in the 11th century but the site and the legends surrounding it date back to the 4th century and the church is know for being the burial site of the Christ's mantel (the one for which 'they drew lots').

This side chapel is done in the Russian Orthodox style.

The church was the place where Georgian kings were crowned and many of the royals of history are buried here. The greater church also houses a small copy of the Chapel of the Holy Sepulcher which you can kind of see through the far right arch below.

Where the mantel is buried

Icon of the Trinity inviting the viewer to table

We left Mtskheta for the new capitol, Tbilisi. I had our driver drop us off near the top of the main street through the city so KMac and I could spend the afternoon walking and exploring the old city. I mostly remembered my way around...although I think KMac would argue with that. We wandered around looking for old city which I was sure was across the bridge. Confused by our guidebook (there just are not good guidebooks for Georgia!) we decided to cross one of the bridges and take a cable car up to a ruined fort and see the Mother of Georgia statue.

It seemed like a great idea until we got on the cable car! I'd just been on one not a month earlier when I went to Eyup so I didn't think anything of this one; but it was somewhat terrifying. Not only was it one of those awful types that doesn't actually stop so you have to hop in and out of it while it's in motion, but it also abruptly sped up as soon as it left the platform.  The view of Tbilisi from above was fantastic and kind of made the ride worth it.

Or so we thought while we were up there. Luckily we managed to get a car to ourselves for the ride down and prayed a string of Hail Marys until we got off. We both (I think anyway, I know I did though!) had our eyes closed for the ride and you could tell when one of us peeked because the tone of the prayer would go up a few octatves!

While we were up top, after snapping a few pictures, I surveyed the view, especially the area on the other side of the bridge, looking for old city. KMac pointed out where it was in the guidebook and on the city map we had, both of which indicated that old city was basically the are from which we'd just come. I vehemently insisted that the guides were WRONG because I had been there before and I KNEW old city was on the other side of the bridge. I was insistent!

*Throat clearing* Turns out the guidebook and map were correct and I was a wee bit mistaken. What I was remembering as old city Tbilisi...was actually old city Skopje. Honest mistake! Both places I visited in the winter when things were cold, wet, snowy, and grey. Seriously, anyone could have made the same mistake :p