Penny a Point, Ain't No One Keepin' Score

So Long Istanbul

Hello to all. We’re on the move and we’re on the train from Istanbul to Thessaloniki. Not sure how it is pronounced. We have the 8:30pm ticket to Greece. Makaila and I walk into the Istanbul Train Station at about 7:25 pm. Some guy looks at us pulling our bags. One of us gray, one of us blond (sort of a latter-day Mod Squad)

Anyway, we’re the only non-Turks in the station. Come to think of it….we’re the ONLY people in the station. He looks at us and says, “Slonica??” But my razor sharp mind and near pitch-perfect command of foreign languages and tongues quickly computes and I say, with authority….”Huh??” Then I realize he said, “Slonica” …Thessaloniki. I say, “yes” and he points to the only train in the station. Clearly, he is a man who knows his trains. Some guy leans off the train….I say, “Slonica!” (now that I have fully grasped the train lingo.) The man says, “Huh??”

I say, “Slonica” and he says, “Oh you mean Thessaloniki?” “Uh, yeah,” I say.

Anyway….we are on our way to Greece, you decide what to call it.

I have been corresponding with Anatolia College in Thessaloniki (which began in Turkey)…you can Google it. It has historic ties to the UCC mission board from the mid 1800’s. The UCC mission board was pretty strong here at one time. So, that church related college is now in Thessaloniki and still maintains a tie to the UCC. The head of the UCC/Disciples Global Ministries in the Middle East in Cleveland recommended that we stop there. So I emailed them last summer.

And…. we are staying there for a couple days and on Wednesday I have a meeting with the President of the college. (Do you suppose he's thinking to himself, "I have a meeting with the Senior Minister of Dublin Community Church"?) This should be interesting.

Oh my. I wake up at 7 on the train with the distinct smell of train diesel wafting in the compartment and certainly the next door compartment has some smoker since cigarette smoke has been circulating via the air system. We are in the hills/mountains of NE Greece. Interesting to note that somewhere on the frontier the train car was shunted around and now instead of moving forward we are moving backward. I do believe we are moving west. We should be in Thessaloniki in an hour or two (It’s 8:15 am). The steward is bringing breakfast. Beautiful sunny day with some frost on the fields (ahh….we pass a prison….now it feels like Ohio) and I’ve noticed that the stream beds are dry. I don’t want the local agricultural community to suffer but after 7 days of on/off rain in Turkey, I can be excused for being a bit selfish

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In the middle of the night we stop for Turkish passports and customs. Everyone is checked. (Only 4 of 10 compartments occupied in this car and I suspect fewer in the other cars) The Turkish officials are polite. Off the train goes the border patrol. Twenty minutes later we reach the Greek border guards and passports are collected again and then returned with a stamp. “Anything to declare?” We are asked, I declare that I am bleary eyed and pooped, but the Greek doesn’t understand and that is probably best. Snow capped mountains now; wind turbines too. Very beautiful. Reminds me of NE Washington State. And, we just passed a Mercedes dealership so we must be somewhat near to Thessaloniki (or we could be just off Sawmill Rd.)

We arrive. Thessalonkiki, Greece. Crowded. The woman at the information booth says the taxi stand is outside to the left. The cabbie outside says it is over to the left. When we reach the far left of the station, the cop says we walked right past the cabs who are really, pretty much directly in front. We can see that Greece will be another adventure; this is not for the timid.

I’ll blog you later from Anatolia College, or perhaps from the front of the train station if we don’t figure out this cab-thing.

                                                                                 

           The Orient Express from Europe ends here..
                                                  but we are heading West to Thessaloniki
                                                                                  Peace, Bob

Can You Dig It?

In my early years in seminary, it struck me that one had to be a bit of an artist and have an imagination to understand and interpret what one is reading in the Bible and the history of the times. After having experienced just a tiny portion of this country of Turkey and a fairly large portion of Istanbul I am coming to understand a bit of how historians and archeologists must allow the mind to soar in order to comprehend the past and its relation to the present.

The other day in Ephesus, we stood at the site of the Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Ancient Wonders of the World. All there is, is an indentation of the earth, and a couple of the huge pillars from the Temple. Certainly the pillars had toppled, along with everything else in the Temple, and those couple pillars are all that remains. But there are picture guides which gives one an idea of what that great structure must have been like. (I stand in awe now of the archiologists who not only painstakingly unearth the site but help us modern people imagine what it had been like. Also at one point, Ephesus was a seaside city. Today the sea is a mile away. Imagine that!

                   Istanbul by Night

We swept back into Istanbul to catch our train out for Thessaloniki, Greece. We met my old friends Ken & Betty who have been in the country for about 25 years and they know Istanbul quite well. Somewhere hidden away, down around the Spice Bazaar are some steps that takes one up to a restaurant which itself overlooks the main section of the marketplace of the Spice Bazaar. Great meal. Great views and good friends. Afterwards we wander the restaurant to see the various rooms. No one seems to mind, and the restraurant itself is a bit of a time capsule. One room contains several paintings of old Istanbul. Istanbul of the Byzantine Era and then later. I notice that Topkapi Palace is right on the shore of the Sea of Marmara in the picture. No doubt it was. The other day Makaila and I walked that area and outside the palace walls today are train tracks, a four lane highway and a pedestrian sidewalk and then a sea wall. My point? Land is being reclaimed from the sea in order to make the city, like all cities near water or swamps or forests. The pictures of romantc sailing vessels in the harbor of old Istanbul now are huge ocean going vessels which, if they are going to the Black Sea, must wait outside Istanbul in order to proceed single file up the Bosphorus. It is impressive.

We took the modern light rail system along the sea shore, across the Golata Bridge into the old section which runs by the great Aya Sophia, Topkapi and Blue Mosque. Everywhere you look, you see era upon era upon another era of time. The old living areas near the monuments are being rebuilt for tourist hotels. The ancient Byzantine edifices had to give way to the sweep of history when Islam came through. One of the new structures near the Blue Mosque told the story of what was found underneath as the earth movers started digging. The billboard told of the "Latin Invasion".... and I wondered what that was and quickly decided that it was referring to the Crusades, the last Crusade, I believe, which sacked the city. (I'm sure any historian/acheologists reading this blog will quickly correct me if I am wrong.)

But, something I had not thought about was this, concerning the unearthing of history...when we see an archeological dig.....the archeologist has to decide which of the multiple eras/layers to uncover and expose and therefore which story is to be told.

The same holds true for a traveler such as myself. This is a whirlwind tour. I have only seen a tiny portion of this wonderful country  of Turkey. I am no expert, I don't speak the language but I have seen a bit more than most who are reading this and trust that my insights are sufficient to convey the proud history and graciousness which has been shown to me and Makaila. I doubt I will get the opportunity to visit this city and country again. I hope I have given a few of you readers a small picture of this place and it's good to know that I have given someone my shoes. At least something of mine remains behind.

Peace,  Bob

A Mountain Top Experience

Have you ever seen those paintings of hills and valleys where the artist has numerous "layers" of hills going off into the background, and each hill has a different tone of "haze" from light to dark and you say to yourself, "there are no such hills, with such tones of light and dark."

Today was a beautiful day of gentle (and very cold) rain. But the tall hills (can't call them mountains, cause I have lived in the American Rockies and these would be hills out there.....yet for Ohio we might call them small mountains. And less any of our Turkish friends correct me....indeed there are mountains in Turkey! I know that! But these are very big hills in the Selcuk-Ephesus area. Anyway........) The clouds and haze and rain all made for a beatiful day off in the distance surrounding the town.

We visited the sacred home of the Virgin Mary. I don't recall studying anything about this in my seminary work and one has to take this for what it is. The story goes that the Virgin Mary, after Jesus died, spent her last years of her life in a house on the top of one of the local hills. It is a major tourist attraction. Pope Paul back in 1966 and Pope Benedict in 2006 have made a pilgrimage to the site and declared it holy. It's a twisty-turn-y drive from the main road to the summit and once you are there, there is room for a ton of tour buses, so this shrine gets a lot of trade in the summer (not so in the winter). We had a beautiful sunny day though. The house has been rebuilt and there is evidence that it was inhabited in the first century. A German nun in the 1800's had a dream that this is where Mary traveled to and lived out her life. The story goes that the Apostle John accompanied her here and wrote his Gospel in the vicinity.

The house/now chapel is stone. A shrine to the Virgin is in the small chapel. There are a few chairs in the place with candles to light. A priest happened to be in there when we were, so it felt quite holy. And indeed it is. The guide gave a long explanation of how this all came about, but it seems to me that whether the ultimate story is true or not makes little difference...the site has been blessed by the Holy Father and it is now sacred. Thousands from around the world come to this site each year and spend a few quiet moments in prayer. Like any sacred tourist site though....it is protected by uzi-armed military....there is a kiosk selling pictures and holy-themed bookmarks and icons.

I was on the shores of India where the Church of St. Thomas is located. They had a shrine in the sanctuary where the bone of one of the fingers of St. Thomas was enshrined. In the mountaintop shrine in the middle of Sri Lanka is the Temple of the Tooth....it is the tooth of Buddha. In each case, the people held that place to be holy and regardless of the historical accuracy of the site, because it has come to be revered by so many, it therefore becomes holy. I think that the greater importance of those sites, whether historical or a part of the heritage of the area is that people the world over seek the sacred in the midst of their everyday lives. Life can be coarse and the body becomes weak and weary, but the soul continues to seek out the sacred. Sacred places can be so because of a one time amazing, stupendous event which is touched by the creator or they can become sacred because men and women choose to set aside that place as one which refreshes the soul.

Such is the site of the home of the Virgin Mary.

Blessings abound.....Bob

Ephesus Photos

Time Like an Ever Rolling Stream

Evidence of the Work of Paul

The Amphitheatre.

We stood over near a stream looking at what was once the Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Just behind it, up the hill are the remains of the St. John Basilica. Behind that, the rebuilt castle of a Sultan and in front of those, a centuries old Mosque. All of these are clustered within a stones-throw of each other. (In the middle of them too is our little hotel.)

After a full day of viewing the magnificent ruins of Ancient Ephesus nearby, the guide points to the treasures of antiquity in front of us and waxed philosophical for a moment as guides (and ministers) are wont to do...

"There, my friends, you can see so many edifices of the ages, a good example of how we are living in harmony with our differences."
To a certain extent he was correct. And I thought to myself..."This is why I came."

Typical breakfast in these parts. Cheese, yogurt, tomatoes, hard boiled egg, bread and jam, coffee or tea. Olives! The hotel owner said that the olives were from his tree. There are a lot of them around here. We have time before our tour of the ancient site of Ephesus just down the road and so Makaila and I walk past the old mosque next door. The first thing we pass are...four jet skiis parked in a neighboring lot. We wander and return a bit later and our tour guide is there ear our hotel, and even though we have not met and there is a bus of German Tourists viewing the mosque there also....the guide comes directly to me and says, Robert Tussing! And indeed, the owner of the hotel has certainly said, "Look for the grey haired guy over there...that is Robert Tussing."  Pretty hard to blend in, in this country with this hair.

The ruins of Ephesus are most interesting for me as I try to imagine how they were discovered and then unearthered. Ephesus was an ancient city on the Mediterranean back in the time of Roman Power and St. Paul. We know Paul visited and lived in Ephesus. He established a church there and wrote what we Christians revere as the Letter to the Ephesians. That in itself, makes this a destination for Christians. But, alas, time has moved on. The sea which was at the doorstep of Ephesus, has now silted up from the rivers over the centuries and the bustling seaport ceased to be a seaport as the shoreline receded a mile or more away. Centuries and empires intruded and the ancient city was abandoned. Look at a modern-day map of Turkey and you will not see Ephesus located. Today the modern nearby city of Selcuk is the destination. The local designation is often Selcuk-Ephesus to indicate the location of this destination for so many tourists.

Ah, but it's winter around here and in the summer it would be teeming with tourists from all over the globe. The temperatures would soar with the population. But, there is a god.......the rains of the past couple days have ceased, the sky is blue, the tour buses are few (good for us, not so for the local economy) and besides that, I am able to buy a ballcap (which says Ephesus in the front) to shield my eyes from the sun. We begin the tour.

Our guide is pretty good, as we it on ancient marble slabs and broken columns, he explains the larger sweep of history as we gaze across the ruins towards the nearby hills which are quite high. As if on cue from the director of a movie, suddenly a shepherd comes out of the hills and onto the road with his sheep, there across the valley. The guide doesn't miss a beat and incorporates the sheep and shepherd into his monolgue on "life long ago in Ephesus."

I asked him when the ruins were unearthed and the rebuilding began and he says in the last 50 years the restoration of Ephesus was begun. Today, these archeological digs are an economic engine which drives the local economy, but before the last half century, the ruins were, just the ruins of Ephesus. People from Dublin, Ohio did not make Selcuk-Ephesus a destination the way one would "go to Rome or Paris." Now people actually "go to Ephesus" when designing a destination. And, it's a wise choice. 

They have done a remarkable job of rebuilding the site, and they are hard at work, uncovering and restoring even more...as money is available. It is easy to imagine a bit of the life in that city. You can walk on the marble streets, see the little shops where folks such and Paul and his friends lived and worked. Touch the mosaics unearthed. See where the politicians met to debate the running of government. Imagine the power of Rome and the everyday lives of the people. Scattered everywhere are pieces of marble columns. And if one is really interested in the daily lives of people....see the toilets used by the men....the stone seats which would have been quite cold in winter were, according to the guide, "kept warm by the slaves." Probably the only time slaves were allowed to sit down on job.

The Library of Selsus has been painstakingly rebuilt and offers a glimpse of what one of the larger edifices may have looked like. But in order to "feel" the pulse of Ephesus, one needs to walk among all the ruins and see the hills surrounding the site and try to imagine that this was a working city of over 250,000 and one of the greatest on the Mediterranean at one time. Today it is being unearthed. Few things last forever. And for me, I marvel that all of this was just waiting there in the hills to be unearthed again to give us a picture. And I also wonder about all of our modern "timeless" buildings and monuments and whether a few millenia from now, someone will unearth our monuments of commerce, religion and the arts and merely wonder about us too.

The amphitheatr is magnificent. It sits perfectly within a bowl shaped indentation of the hills...granted, they did a bit of carving to make it fit too. Great fun to sit in it and hear the acoustics and marvel at the rows and stage and views of the city. Many of us scrample to the middle or upper sections to experience the site. Down on the "stage" a group of tourists stand and suddenly one breaks into song and the rest of that tour group follows and they are singing some song I am not familiar with though one of our group smiles and sings along. The impromtu concert concludes and everyone in the amphitheatre (probably 57 people total) breaks into applause. It was a Korean folk song which a Korean Tour group offered up to us all for that morning. Everyone is delighted, and for just a moment there, the ancient ruins of Ephesus are alive once again as they were 2000 years ago.

Peace,  Bob

EFES Time

"Food? Are there any restaurants still open?" We ask the old gentleman running our hotel in Ephesus. (We just came from Istanbul and had no dinner.)
"Yes,yes." he says with enthusiasm and takes me into the street and points down the dark street a few blocks. "Amazon." he says in a mysterious tone. I imagine all sorts of adventures awaiting us down the street at "Amazon."
We head off through the streets and reach a sign that says "Anton" That seems close enough to us, we enter a cafe. Rock music is blasting on the stereo. Satellite TV is on the flat screen. The young man is on Facebook (the entire country is on Facebook)
"Are we too late to eat?"
"Yes, you are." says the young man.
"Is there any place in the town open for dinner."
"No."
I look behind him and see a cooler with Nestea Iced Tea, Sprite and EFES, the local bottled beer. (Interesting to note that Ephesus today is known for its ancient ruins and fine Pilsner...perhaps a cautionary tale for us all.)
"OK, I'll have an EFES and she'll have a Sprite."
"Excellent choice, sir!"

We wrapped up our time in Istanbul with a trip to Ephesus. We fly to Izmir on the West Coast and are met by a driver for the journey to Selcuk which is near the ancient ruins of Ephesus. Our driver is driving a 34 passenger tourist bus. Makaila and I climb in....and that's it. Just Makaila and me. We stretch out as the bus heads down the 4 lane highway towards Selcuk. It reminds you of any 4 lane highway in the States, though I will admit the left turns on to other roads are a bit harrowing due to no turn offs or clover leaves in this area. Just get in the left lane, signal a left turn. Stop. And all the cars and trucks in the left lanes have to swerve to the right lane to avoid you. I closed my eyes more than once.

I have spoken to a lot of people around Dublin who have made the trip to Ephesus and the ancient ruins. Today the modern city of Selcuk (sel-chuck) is the destination and beside it is Ephesus. Our modest hotel is one that clearly caters to the tourist trade. I didn't see much of it last night because we were too busy rockin' out at the Amazon down the street. But I think the tourist trade is a bit slow in winter here in Selcuk. I have consulted Weather.com and the forcast is for NO rain and clear and 50 degrees. That is great news as I have been anticipating this portion of our Turkish stay.

Just a side note here, as several have asked. Of course the worldwide web is in full force in this country. Most hotels seem to have WiFi too. We were in the garden area of the grand Blue Mosque the other day in Istanbul and a sign indicated that it was wired for WiFi. Really? Do tourists come all the way to see the Blue Mosque and then whip out their laptops and chronicle their experience in real time? I guess so.

The Amazon was totally wired here in Selcuk. I imagine the energy needed for all his gear would take half the enrgy output of Hoover Dam. This small tourist hotel is also wired. Satellite TV on in the lobby and the rooms WiFi'ed. It's great.

What did we do in the old days? I imagine people drank their EFES and talked.... all without Satellite TV and Turkish Rock streamed through their computer. It's a wonderful time to be alive.

Peace,  Bob

Among the Faithful

Mosque Central Worship Area

Ceiling Architecture

"The chicken soup is finished," says the waiter to me.
"Excellent!" I say, "I am ready for the soup."
"It is finished."
"Great, bring it on." I tell him.
He looks at me. I look at Makaila.
"Oh! I get it! You are out of chicken soup!" (the light finally dawns on me.) "I'll have some lentil soup instead. "
"Good choice, sir."

Yes, it's great to see the savvy traveler that I have become. Like any foreign country that one negotiates, you quickly learn the line between comprehension and being clueless. We cross that line into the latter territory every hour or so. The key here is that we know no Turkish and the people of Istanbul have a pretty good comprehension of English, so we are continually at the mercy of their graciousness and limits of our language.

We have begun to eat in the smaller, non-tourist restaurants. Several reasons for that. The food is good and the food is much less expensive. It's the difference between local eateries in any neighborhood in the States and that in the restaurants crowded around the shopping malls.

If you can point to the item on the menu here in Istanbul, it will appear on your table. Usually some sort of beans, rice, stew or lentils or whatever. Bread with cheese or meat is popular. Sweets are sweet with a capital "S"" and Turkish tea is ubiquitous. Turkish coffee is thick as molasses and our hotel serves Nescafe instant. Figure that one out, so do lots of restaurants. Yes, there are the Starbucks and Starbucks-like coffee shops...just the same as elsewhere.

Yesterday we came out of the Suleymaniye Mosque and it was windy, rainy and cold. We had been in the mosque for over an hour. (By the way, all due respect to the mosques of our Turkish friends...but they, like us, have a few difficulties with the upkeep of their buildings....doors won't stay shut and the wind blows them open. Carpets often need stretching. Even noted a leak or two in some of the roofs. Aging structures and upkeep are universal.)

We exited on one side of the mosque. I needed to sit on a chair...just spent the past hour on a carpeted floor and something warm would be nice. Across the courtyard were various small restaurants that cater to the faithful and locals (one and the same I imagine). The wind and rain were quite strong, we lingered for a half second on one menu posted outside....and suddenly a waiter appeared...."come inside." he beckoned. We did, we got a modest table and chair....they slapped a bowl of bread on the table. We ordered Turkish tea and apple tea only. They brought the tea and removed the bread.

OK....the bread is for the diners. We were tea totalers, I suppose. But as we sat and warmed ourselves with tea I noticed the locals eating a type of beans and rice with a thick sauce. No idea what it was. Few were speaking English (no one, actually). I caught the attention of the bus boy and pointed to the bean and rice dish at the next table...."One" I said.

Suddenly the bread reappears and a waiter with a heaping bowl of beans and rice. It was quite good.

On the wall was (in English) a "restaurant review" of an "Anatolian" dish for which this restaurant was famous. We couldn't read it because it was framed and posted behind the chef who was doing the cooking. I suppose if he needed a picker-upper about his work, he could just turn and gaze at it during the day, though the patrons could not.The meal was done...the waiter writes out something....then prints the cost 10 and circles the 10 indicating that we owe 10 TL Turkish Lira....about $7. I think he was also saying that I could include his tip over and above the 10. What he did not know for sure was that I am an American and so habitually overtip for anything that I don't understand. Anyway, everyone left the exchange happy and Makaila and I walked out into the rain.

The afternoon began when I said I wanted to visit this big mosque over in a part of town that we were sort of familiar with. ("Familiar" is a relative term....we were "familiar" with it.....in the sense that we could find it on the map quickly and even negotiate the streets fairly well. After that, we were basically, babes in the woods.)

I'll leave you to Google the Suleymanye Mosque. It's over near the University and just up from the small Rustem Pasa Mosque we visited yesterday.

We found it, and entered the grounds from the backstreet and walked along the side court to the main entrance. It's tricky with the rain to take off ones shoes by sitting along the "porch" and thus getting ones socks soaked and/or not stepping over the line where shoes are totally forbidden and it is dry. So, there is a sort of hedging as you sit in the wet marble stones, and keep your feet dry, but take off your shoes and try to look like you do this everyday. In any case, I took off my shoes, placed them in the convenient plastic bags provided (like a supermarket plastic bag). I then took my new shoes and handcuffed them to my wrist like a federal marshall would do to a prisoner and walked in to the magnificent mosque.

We were there before the call to prayer and so walked around the sides gazing at the arches, stained glass and awe-inspiring structure. The faithful were up on the "stage" area (my term, as are all of the following technical terms for the various areas in the mosque). Makaila has her scarf around her head. Various Muslim women are praying behind screens in the back. Tourists just wander about and no one seems too concerned about it all. There seems to be a gated off area for the faithful, but some of us tourists wander in there too. We men may not be so noticeable, but the women are...yet everyone is respectful, both tourists and the faithful.

There are huge carved wooden doors, thick wall to wall carpeting (having spent a summer laying carpet for Sears back in my college days, I glance at the stitching and how the lengths are put together. My practiced and professional eye, quickly realizes that the Suleymaniye Mosque in downtown Istanbul did not buy their carpet at Sears, but no doubt at a competitor. I don't recall laying any carpet in mosques in NW Ohio back in the late 1960's either. Did a couple Truck Stops though....but I digress.)

We take photos. Touch the huge pillars of marble and admire their etchings and the huge scale of everything in the place. From the outside we can hear the "Call to prayer" and I figure we tourists would be asked to leave. Nope. The faithful pour in. Men carry their shoes and walk across the carpets to the "stage"....I suppose when there are huge gatherings, all the faithful cannot pray right at the front area, but today they can. Unlike Christian churches, the faithful flock to the front. I must make a mental note to ask the Imam "how do you get the congregation to hurry up front?!" A few perform their intitial prayers in the semi-back area and then hurry to the front lines. One little boy is there with his father and like kids everywhere he just wanders and dances and bips around the mosque. No one is particularly concerned about his running around.

The chant begins in the mosque. Prayers are said. Stand. Kneel. Pray. Do so again and again. We tourists are in the middle-back sitting on the floor. Somewhere among the faithful a cell phone rings (good to know that somethings are the same the world over). It then seems like the chanting is done and the Imam is now reading in a chanting sort of way. A few men scurry out when the reading begins (same as in Christian churches)....most stay thru the readings. In 25 minutes it is done. The faithful grab their shoes and walk across the carpets of the huge domed mosque, chatting and turning on their cell phones. A few men begin their cell phone conversations as they stroll through the main area heading for the door. Off they go back into the city.

Are the men dressed like you see them in the great places of Mecca when they come for a Haj? No. The men are dressed like any big city resident. Granted, few are wearing red Land's End jackets, but they are dressed for winter weather in Istanbul. Prayer is a part of their daily life...and they rush back to work or home or the tea shop across the street where some cold, silver-haired tourist is sipping Turkish Tea with his blond daughter and pointing at the next table's food and smiling all the while.

We continue on through the crowded streets of the busy city and head for another look at the Spice Market. A wonderful place of spice, bright lights and entertaining shop owners. Some of the stores are a bit pricey....apparantly there are cruise ships that anchor nearby in the Summer and Fall....but mostly it is spice, spice and more spice. The sellers ask where we are from. We are offered pieces of Turkish Delight a wonderful sweet candy which supplies all the sugar you would need for a week in one mouthful. We sample. We smell the tea. We compare the prices of Saffron from Turkey with that from Iran or India. (Iranian is most expensive, Turkish the least).

A man calls out to us, "Where are you from?"

"Chicago!" we shout.

"People from Chicago love my spices!"

No doubt they do. And we love Istanbul.

Peace, Bob

Old Istanbul

The Grand Bazaar

Blue Mosque

Rustem Pasa Mosque

I Stepped Upon the Platform, the Man Gave Me the News....

"You are a very handsome man...and the lady is beautiful!"

"Hello Sir, where are you from?"
"Chicago!" I reply (Every one knows Chicago...Ohio is a bit more obscure, and entails too much conversation , so I pick the closest major city.)
"People from Chicago LOVE my carpets!"

The above were but a few of the comments from the sales force in the Grand Bazaar. This place is wonderfully nuts. High energy and endlessly fascinating and one of the most fantastic places I have seen (when it comes to commerce). I even got to experience it with brand new shoes.

It is time to think about going to Ephesus. The information guide at the Information desk at the train station says there is no train to Ephesus (Selcuk, actually) I fear it is my accent that threw her off. Later when I asked about a train to Thessaloniki she said that she did not have any information and that I should check with the train station. (I guess, that in itself IS a form of information....i.e. "go ask the train people.)"I did.

With the help of our hotel people and a travel agent, several cups of Turkish Tea and a credit card, we are set for Ephesus (see Izmir or Selcuk on the map of far Western Turkey). With that done we set off for the day to experience the grand Blue Mosque. It is a gem. Imposing. Sacred. Blue. Well, the interior tiles of the mosque are blue...and many colors. It's pretty hard to comprehend how complex the architecture is and how beautiful it is. Non-Muslims enter through another door without any difficulty. Go up the steps. Take off your shoes. Carry them in a bag or place them on the shelves. Walk around the vast, totally carpeted floor of the mosques and gaze and gape at its granduer. Makaila and I did so. We spoke with a fellow whose family sells carpets just outside the gates, where other expensive tourist items are sold (very expensive). Of course he invited us to view the carpets. In the meantime we gazed at the interior of the mosque. It's enough to hold your attention for hours. Beautiful carpeted floor. Marble. Tiles of many colors and designs. Domed ceilings. A blocked off area for the faithful. A place for women to pray. Very little furniture or the like...just a huge magnificent domed, tiled, carpeted stucture. It is even more impressive from outside and at night when it is lit up showing off its angles and domes and spires. The Taj Mahal comes to mind for such magnificence.

But it's time to leave, and alas....... someone stole my shoes. I suppose that somewhere in that is a metaphor for life. Perhaps there is a metaphor about leaving "baggage" behind and emptying oneself of the "things" of society and giving it all over to the Creator. I suppose that somehow it is the gods of the other world telling Bob to unemcumber himself and seek a higher plain. But the fact is, I am standing in the grand Blue Mosque without any shoes and it is raining in Istanbul.

Ah, but there is a god. The carpet salesman comes to the rescue. (Makaila's shoes are there, by the way.) He runs over to his carpet shop and returns with two used pair of shoes from the staff. One sort of fits. We walk out of the Blue Mosque in Istanbul in borrowed black shoes. "You look Turkish now!" exclaims the carpet salesman. And indeed, with the shoes I COULD pass for a local. Life has changed.(By the way...my silver hair stands out, even in a city of 14 million. I have noticed about 6 Turkish men with silver hair. Nothing as brilliant as mine...ah vanity. And when walking with a blond young woman, daughter Makaila...it would be hard to pass for a local, though I now have THE SHOES. I am practically Turkish!) I am honored. I still have all documents, Makaila and passports and credit cards, I'll live) The carpet salesman says to come to his shop for Turkish Tea. "Heck yes," I say. "Turkish Tea will solve many things." We go to the shop...a very beautiful shop with zillions of beautiful carpets. We sit. They serve us tea. I take Turkish Tea. Makaila takes apple tea. We converse with the boss-owner. They are Kurds from Eastern Turkey. We view carpets that are more than my mortgage, we do not buy but I am a semi-expert now on Turkish carpets.

OK, no sale for the silver haired guy and blond daughter. The original shop guy takes us to the nearby shopping area and I buy new shoes and we are on our way to the Grand Bazaar. Both words are apt. It is grand. It is a bazaar beyond all bazaars. This is both a tourist place but mainly a place for the people of Istanbul. Once again, Makaila and I stand out. Had I still been wearing my borrowed black shoes I could have no doubt, slipped through the bazaar incognito.

Sir, carpets!

Leather coats sir.

Madam, this jewelry is...

Where are you from.....

Sir just a minute....

If I could show you these....

Such a beautiful lady.....

You are so distinguished.....

It's all great fun. Listen. Look. Move on if you are not interested. It is truly useless to try and describe the Grand Bazaar. Put all of the shopping of Easton and Polaris under one roof and you have a hundredth of the Grand Bazaar. The sellers use all sorts of conversational tactics to lure you in. You are safe, but their sales techniques are honed to catch you for just a moment. What they don't realize is that....I have been to Chimundy Hill....and that has made all the difference in my life. You'll have to ask my other daughter Laura what that means. Suffice it to say....I was prepared (though obviously not enough at the Blue Mosque).

Makaila had checked out a place to eat in the Grand Bazaar. Truly a needle-in-a-haystack thing. We had a map, but it required Steven Hawking to figure out where you were. If you stop to get your bearings, at least 10 salesmen descend (once again, India was a great training ground). But we found a particular roasted-lamb wrap sandwich which Makaila had read about. People were seated at some small metal table type thing. They wisked a couple stools out for us. We ordered Coke and and Fanta (the universal language...it worked all over Africa 35 years ago too) There is a sort of "salad bar" on the top of the table. "Serve yourself!" the waiter shouts between orders of lamb-wrap. But he scoops up some peppered pickle chips and tosses them on my wax paper tray. I am hooked. We are seated in the midst of the Grand Bazaar, new shoes, peppered pickles and a roasted lamb wrap. Too bad for the lamb. Good for us.

Getting out of the Grand Bazaar is like one of those nightmares where you keep going round and round and never find the exit. I just carry a map and keep checking. I know lots of tourists want to NOT look like tourists and so sneak a peak at a map. I don't care. Everyone in Western Turkey knows I am a tourist, so I look at maps. Ask questions and are always given courtesy by the people of Istanbul and occasionally one finds the gate out (another metaphor for life). It is pouring rain and the streets around the grand bazaar are as fascinating as the Bazaar itself. We open our umbrellas and negotiate endless, winding streets searching for the Rustem Pasa Moque, a small but highly regarded gem near the Golata Bridge. We "know" the neighborhood and so we head for it. We have to stop along the way for Turkish Delight and Turkish Coffee at this great little shop. We find a quiet table on the second floor and savor the sweets and tea. I take a nap by leaning against the wall ("Seven") Back out into the labyrinth. We find the Rustem Pasa. We walk around it once to find the entrance and finally decide to ask and we're directed past the shops to a non-descript set of stairs. Up we go. We are in the entry patio (my term). It's cold and rainy out, we are wearing gloves and scarves and coats. A gentleman directs us to the place to put our shoes. I hesitate, but notice that he is a "guard" and I figure, Oh well. In we go. This is smaller that the Blue Mosque (every mosque is smaller than the Blue Mosque). In Christian church parlance, I would call it a chapel, but it is still magnificent. The floor is totally carpeted. The dome and tlles a sight to behold. My shoes still in the rack are also a sight to behold too. We exit back into the rain and the nearby Spice Bazaar which is another blog in and of itself. I will spare you.

Some years ago, I was at a sacred Hindu temple in the north of Sri Lanka. Like all pilgrims, we had to leave our shoes at the door. Somehow at that place, as the Hindu faithful were worshipping and as Laura and I were shown great respect by the temple leader as he invited us to participate a bit in the ritual....even as that was going on inside....someone stole my shoes there too. Perhaps God is toying with me. This journey is one for me to explore the sights of the great faiths, and that we are doing. If you read yesterday about our morning of worshipping among American Christians, you may have sensed that I was incensed about being attacked for my Christian beliefs. That episode was much more disturbing than today's loss of shoes. Yesterday I was told by those Christians, that what I believed was not valid and that my Presbyterian, Lutheran and Anglican friends were delusional and that Jesus did not love me. I don't worry too much about what they think, but I do worry about how those Christian leaders are teaching our young people and other Christians to hate in the name of Christ. Ironic isn't it?

Today all I lost was a pair of shoes. I've had that happen before. Those are replaceable. And besides....for an hour there, because of my borrowed shoes...." I looked like I was Turkish." And that can be a very good thing.

Peace,  Bob

Uphill Climb....... in More Ways Than One

We finished our dinner and I asked for the check and hand the waiter my Debit Card. He looks at it and exclaims, "That is my favorite futbol team!!"
"Fenner Bache!!" I shout.
"Yes, yes! The BEST futbol team in Turkey! Where did you get this debit card, it is great!" He asks.
I told him that I had connections in the banking AND futbol world.

Ah Sunday morning in a foreign city. Like most, it is a bit sleepy, the bakeries and coffee shops open early and I am wondering if the the other shops will be open later. But, I am a minister and someone said that there is an English language, ecumenical service in a certain place across the river where we were the other day. I told Makaila it would be a destination and interesting to see how the service went. Besides, I am a bit partial to spending Sundays in church anyway.

We crossed the bridge and headed up the steps in the picture above. (By the way, sorry about the lack of diversity in the photos....it's pretty much "Bob in front of a mosque." "Bob in front of a bridge." Bob in front of a building." I also have one of me accepting an award from the President of Turkey and one from Friday night when I scored the winning goal for Fenner Bache. And one where I am the stand-in double for George Clooney for a romantic nightclub scene with Jennifer Aniston in an action flick set in Istanbul. I promise to post them soon.)

We find the church and are greeted and settle in. The chapel is very nice, with its brick and mortar and stained glass windows. But, I also noticed that they had huge rockin' speakers on each side of the chancel and a pull down screen which when in operation would block out the cross and front stained glass window. The service began. Turns out it is totally run by American Christians for this morning. Looking around, I could have easily been in Ohio judging the people in attendance. I suppose this is a part of the expatriate community in Istanbul. We sang and prayed and wished someone happy birthday. All very nice. All led by Americans, but I am thinking, "OK, fine....hands-across-the-border...it's all good. The sermon began, an American man is preaching; it's on Revelation. The message was on "love." Love for Jesus, love for one another, love for God. It was all good. Lots of love. Then the American preacher starts attacking...let's see if I can remember the list.....he attacked, Anglicans, Presbyterians, and Lutherans and when he couldn't remember any more specific denominations he just attacked all mainline denominations in the States. The young American women in front of me are jotting down the God forsaken American Christian denominations with great care. But, the minister assured us that this was all done "in love" and the congregation nodded approval. Then Makaila started nudging me as he went on to chastize all the moral and mortal sins committed by these American Christians (assuring us that he had the love of Jesus in his heart for all of us. And remember, the preacher is American, not a Turkish person in attendance...a smattering of English) It then dawned on me that about half of the things I hold dear were just trashed by this American Christian preacher. He finished the sermon. Another American guy gave the prayer..."praying for true leadership for our national leaders." I thought, OK, that's good. Hands across the border type thing in praying for the leaders of Turkey. But, no, he went on to emphasize that he was praying for "our national leaders in the United States."

Hmmmm. Here I am in Istanbul, ready to understand the "interesection of faiths" in this corner of the world and I am attacked by American preachers. I could have spent my time better watching the Packers or Steelers on satellite back at the hotel or had a root canal. I hate to think how the Roman Catholics or Muslims would fare with this group of Americans. And I have to wonder what hope there is for different faiths to get along when relations are so raw between American Christians. (or at least this group of American Christians) 

We left the service after the final condemnation was offered and headed for coffee. An hour later we walked by a huge Roman Catholic cathedral and went in an enjoyed the peace and quiet and crowds and lit a candle (one Turkish lira) to see if there could be any hope for us all. Down the way we walked around a small Mosque where the faithful were gathering. We also went into the vestibule of an old Orthodox church to see if we were welcome. Everyone seemed to be fine with us except for the American Christians. 

Note to self: stay with the Catholics, Muslims and Orthodox folks for the remainder of the trip.

We wandered along a very busy main shopping street...about a mile or more....no cars, just a tram and occasional "official" car and small street sweeping trucks. It's a great place to window shop, people watch and just be among the throngs of Istanbul residents and a few tourists. For some reason we went off the beaten path and wandered in some very hilly neighborhoods and back streets. Places where tourists don't venture, but basic city neighborhoods. Very interesting to see and I have discovered that I still have calf muscles because they are aching.

By the way....Istanbul has a fabulous underground subway system. We have not ridden it, but went down and down and down the escalators to the entrance to the trains. Impressive. We could have used those escalators in the hilly neighborhoods an hour earlier. We did take a one mile underground tramway (my description) to get from one of the heights to the river area.

A final thought on Istanbul and religion. If you walk as we did, over in the historic "European" area one can find various Christian churches and a Jewish synagogue and Jewish museum. Like any great city, the cultures and civilizations have come together and co-existed as best as they can. From outward appearances, while the Christians don't seem to be too high profile, they survive in a society that has long since embraced another faith. (Although, after my experience this morning, I too may consider embracing another faith. Good thing all the preaching by the American preacher was done with the love of Jesus, otherwise I would have taken it personal.)

Looking forward to visiting the inside of the great Blue Mosque and Aya Sophia and several other mosques today. I have a good feeling about the upcoming discoveries.

P.S. You can view my winning goal for Fenner Bache on ESPN.

Peace,  Bob

Mosques on the Golden Horn/ Istanbul

Standing on north side of Galata Bridge facing southwest....panorama of mosques....our hotel is to the left of the first mosque

"There Would Never Come A Day..."

Greetings from Istanbul,

This is not your ordinary tourist attraction, then again it really is. I am at the Blue Mosque, one of the most famous in the world. I have traveled a bit in my life and I approached this particular site with a mix of awe and reverence. But on the way through the city from our hotel we passed many of the huge tourist buses winding through the streets. True, there are many tourist and sacred sites in this area (sometimes those terms are mutually exclusive). Around the corner we glimpsed the Mosque. Gardens preceeded it, lots of tourists too. Granted this is January, Winter and the numbers are probably quite small in comparison. But as we got closer the atmosphere turned sacred, carnival-like and your basic touristy.

People were selling cotton candy, some man dressed as St. Nicholas (not the American advertising Santa but....I guess the original St. Nick who according to history does hail from these parts though his body is buried in ....Greece? It's amazing how all these historical people lived or died or were carted off to other lands to be buried or else the locals CLAIM the famous people were buried around there....but I digress....those random thoughts have nothing to do with the Blue Mosque.)

I think I was expecting people to be hushed, as they were within the grounds of the Taj Mahal, but most spoke in normal tones. We did not enter into the main area. It was late and we had to keep moving, we will be back several times. We'll check our shoes at the entrance and take time to marvel at the inside. So, we wandered the grounds, going out the back area, winding through the parking lot and somehow stumbling on the main expensive tourist selling area. These were not men selling blankets from a cart, but expensively furnished shops which had been renovated from the .... perhaps stables? It was a bit out of our price range, I think the photo op with St. Nick may have been out of our price range.

We wandered through the streets of the area which were a mix of hotels, restaurants and shops. The streets were well lit and the crowds reasonable and it was truly awesome to see the mosque lit at night...sort of other-worldly. In a strange mix of east meets west we walked down the street to a restaurant and had pasta and a pilsner. (and.....listening to The Spinners sing "Could It Be I'm Falling In Love")  Didn't see that one coming as I had dreamed over the past year of seeing this magnificent structure.

We are now on our own, our friends Ken and Betty accompanied us to the hotel which is quite a ways from their home across the bay (actually Sea of Marmara). This Istanbul is really spread out...very difficult to describe other than continuing to call it "vast." They both knew the general and probably specific area where we were to be and so via cab, ferry and walking we arrived.

Our hotel has all the spaciousness of a nuclear sub though the bed is comfy and the breakfast dining room is quite big and the breakfast itself was very good. I continue to drink Turkish tea, though I found myself missing the usual "tulip-shaped" cup for the tea. Coffee is a bit rare and this morning I had instant...I will seek out the nearest Starbucks for an injection. Yes, there are Starbucks, many other coffee shops, McDonald's, Burger King and the local Turk Burger. I suppose the name "Turkey Burger" would be a bit too confusing. Pastery shops are ubiquitous. We also enjoyed an after lunch stop at the ice cream store. We are gazing at the various ice creams in the case, from the street front window of the ice cream store when suddenly the front window starts to raise up automatically and the clerk took our order. This place rocks! Their ice cream stores have auto-raising front windows! Nothing like that in America...and I thought we were #1. I may have to rethink some assumptions. I had chocolate chip and basic chocolate. Couldn't read the labels but just pointed and Ken translated when needed. But I did notice that they also had "Tutti Furutti." I don't know Turkish, but I have some college degrees and I'm guessing that refers to.....

I am now into the local Sports Scene as I tried to read the story of the local Fenner Bache football team...the one with the same colors as my debit card (which incidently is my new best friend.) But as I looked at the picture on the sports page of the paper, I took note that those are the same colors as...The University of Michigan. Don't tell Tressel that I am rooting for the maize and blue. Give me an "F"! Give me a "B"!

Peace,  Bob

Racing with Super Tankers

So, there I was standing next to my seat on the plane as we flew to Rome. A woman walked down the aisle and as she passed me she asked, "Are you staying in Rome?" I said, "No, I'm just passing through." She replied that she was going to Rome and had a tour lined up and was all excited about it. I told her that sounded good. "So where ARE you going?" she asked. "Istanbul." I answered. "Why?" she asked. "Because it sounds interesting," I answered. "Hmm, I don't get it," she said. I just smiled.

Besides the fact of awakening at 2 am and not going back to sleep, it was a pretty good day.

We spent a part of the morning walking around the Kadikoy area which is the eastern suburb or Istanbul. This place is so spread out that it makes Metro Columbus look compact, it also has ferry boats. The plan involved walking from the apartment to the ferry boat. That was about 20 minutes, then the ferry crossing to the "European" sector of the city called Karakoy. Karakoy was historically where the Europeans lived and conducted business, thus leaving the ancient, sacred sector of the city alone. On the way over via ferry our boat captain was apparently trying to outrun a supertanker plying the waters to our left. We had to pass them or wait, and our captain showed good judgement by waiting for the Super Tanker which was 100 times our size, to cross in front of us.

Off the ferry boat. Onto the wharf. Under the street for an underground/mall to avoid the traffic. The shopping mall is totally electronics sales, cell phones, TV's etc, save for one strange sight, lawn mowers and chain saws, sold by a hardware store. I haven't seen two square foot of grass in Istanbul. I have more grass growing in my parking spot at church than this entire city. Who would possibly want or need a lawn mower? And chain saws...Husquevarna's for you afficianados.

Our walk took us up and up into the higher reaches of the city. This is the old European area. Out destination was the Galata Tower; a fire-watch in ancient days. Just like a forest fire ranger, the old city would have men in this stone tower searching the city for fires and who would then alert the firemen. But, with the city being so crowded, we decided that all anyone could do if a fire was spotted was to point out the area from which the city began to burn. No way you could save a building or the town.

Today, the tower is a restaurant and look out. (See the photo of me and Ken having just returned from the tower and pronouncing the city safe from destruction.) We walked the outside balcony. 360 degrees and countless miles of Istanbul at our feet.

Nearby were many Counsulates and shops. We wandered down one street to the hotel where Agatha Cristie wrote Murder on the Orient Express (having passed a bit earlier,  the train station where the Asian porton of the Orient Express officially begins.) No one seemed to ask why we were wandering this exclusive hotel without being a resident. People assume you have a purpose there when you have gray hair, plus not knowing the language I was able to ignore the shouting at me. A return to the suburbs on the ferry with the countless communters made the city less exotic and more like any other world-class city.

I told our friends that we'd take them out to dinner. And their choice was a place near where we are staying. Speaking of world-class....this city is world-class when it comes to restaurants and dining and we were not disappointed by the wonderful evening out.

But, below the restaurant, in a little grotto was a shrine to St. Catherine. This is an Orthodox site with sacred water, various icons on the wall and candles to light (one Lira).

Like any ancient city, it is built layer upon layer on top of the previous generation. Cultures come and go as war and religious devotion (sometimes one and the same) ebb and flow. Today Istanbul is modern and deep roots within the Muslim faith while maintaining a secular/religious balance. Yesterday Istanbul under the name of Constantinople was Orthodox and before that Byzantine in the Roman era. From the Galata Tower today we viewed modern Istanbul and saw some huge stone towers which the city has built around in order to accomodate a school and a hospital. I'm sure some historians know the story behind and underneath those towers. I imagine few if any of the tourists on the tower, like ourselves, had any idea, but there is a story in the dust somewhere.

Likewise, I'm not certain of the story as to why the restaurant where we ate tonight had Orthodox icons and holy water in the cellar. It doesn't seem like the owners of the fish restaurant would have said, "I know what will bring in the customers....an Orthodox shrine beneath the dining room!" And yes, I know that the shrine predates the restaurant, so they built over the shrine. In between the appetizer and the main course (grilled sea bass) Makaila and I went down to the grotto. For a lira we purchased a sacred candle and lit it, asking for a safe journey over the coming months. Thank you Saint Catherine.

Peace,  Bob

We Begin

Not Constantinople

Travel is a form of escape as one author put it. I suppose it is escape from the familiar but it is also a running towards the unfamiliar. It's always fun to have a sense of the unfamiliar surrounding one when traveling.

In the Rome airport; I see the Turkish woman dressed so European-stylish and then the next moment realize she has put on a long wrap around dress and covered her head in anticipation of a return to Istanbul. From what I can see thus far, Istanbul is highly secular (which anticipates a very long discussion). Or it's fun to see an Italian gentleman on his cell phone, with hat and shades and scarf and a long coat draped over his shoulders like some Italian movie mogul as he wheels and deals over his cell while riding the airport bus out to the plane. Don't see alot like him in Ohio.

And by the way, who was telling me to not wear Nike and the usual jogging shoes that everyone and their brother wears in the States, cause to do so "will make you look like an American tourist." I got a nice pair of Merril shoes, but everyone in Istanbul is wearing Nike's and other jogging shoes. Or could it be that everyone I've seen in Istanbul is really an American tourist, if so, there are no locals. I think my Merrils are going to label me "tourist."

OK....so we made it no problem. You can all be spared the "I got to Istanbul but my luggage went to Rio" stories. Connection were easily made. Luggage arrived with us and magically turned up at the baggage claim. Our friend was there at Istanbul to collect us.

We were met by old friend Ken (who, with wife Betty) have lived in Turkey for 20+ years. The airport is extremely modern and spacious and there he was with the crowd outside the gate. A short taxi ride to the ferry boats and we board a ferry like one you'd see in NY or Seattle or SF and journey along the southern shore of the old part of Istanbul. I remarked that it rather looked like SF through the afternoon fog, haze. SF doesn't have the mosques that Istanbul sports but you sort of get the picture.

This is a massive city and the ferry boat trip to their home over in another sector of Istanbul gave me a sense of the meeting of East and West. If you want to get technical, I am now in Asia.

Later we walked along the seawall where you could see dozens of ocean going vessels waiting to take the Bosphorus up to the Black Sea. The Bosphorus is sort of the equivalent of 315 in Columbus during rush hour when 315 and I-270 meet in the northbelt. Only this involves huge ocean-going vessels and one-way ship traffic during certain portions of the day between the Sea of Marmara and the Black Sea.

Amidst jet lag we ventured into the market district of their suburb (here on the Asian side of the city). This part of town has an "every city" feel about it. Neighborhoods of apartments, no single family dwellings, the call of mosques at appointed hours, auto-clogged streets, many, many restaurants and coffee shops. (Yes, Starbucks is just up the block and somewhere is a Burger King since I've seen the billboards). We spent time along the harbor and then into the winding streets of the market district. Think .... "Short North" on steroids. They have so many restaurants and "no smoking" is the order of the day inside, so there are lots of outdoor seating for the smoking (and clearly, cold) patrons if they wanted it. We ate at one of our friends' favorite restaurants. Indeed it was excellent. Can't quite describe it but everything was wonderful as the waiters offered to shake my hand and give greetings to me and all my family and ancestors.

I needed some toiletries and so we ventured in a shop. They woman looked at my gray hair and announced that I had dry hair and should have some sort of hair conditioner. I told her that at my age I was lucky to have any hair at all. I don't think Ken translated as she proceeded to try and sell a few dozen other products to me. At the check out line I gave them my debit card which was easily run through the register. The clerk was delighted at the debit card which is blue and yellow from my local bank in Lancaster. "Those are my football teams colors!" the clerk marveled as he handed it back. And the large letters of FNB (Fairfield National Bank) on the card are almost the letters of that favorite team. (Fenner Bache) the team name!

I asked (via our translator) if that would net me a discount.

"Not at all sir!" was the reply.

Nevertheless, it's a small world when the debit card of one Ohio Bank can cause an Istanbul football enthusiast to offer me a hearty greeting in Turkish on the Asian side of Istanbul.

I told him, "Go team!"

"OK! OK!" he offered with a smile.

Bob