sing me a song for your troubles, joe
;orchestar of your woe
alley-cat wails to ease your mind
rough hands
eager eyes
down here spit-shinin' pennies
into dollars on the dime.

There is nothing quite like the thrill of being, quite literally, lost, in a foreign country. Room, withing the borders of your limited knowledge, to relax. Time to ease into vague waypoint and semidirection, amidst the echoing of solitary footsteps.

Bulgaria happened. It was spectacular. Changes of pace in so many senses. Much needed refreshment. After a few nights in an almost-too-cool hostel, we drove through the mountains, visiting a village of revolutionaries and quaint guest houses, then, to Plovdiv. My, oh my, Plovdiv. Cobblestone streets, statues, galleries, ruins, hills, amphitheaters.

These are some pictures. There are lots more.

Today, I would like to go home.

Today, I would like the freedom of movement, no bumping shoulders, no reluctant windows, no bus numbers, swelling lines nor slamming doors. Just open road, changing leaves, chilling breeze and deafeningly loud music. I would like I-85.

I would like english--advertisement, even. Menus and ordering with confidence instead of apology.

I would like every person I meet to know all my stories. I would like to be unburdened and understood. Completely.

Today I envy my younger self; the stinging clarity of unrequited love and the self-righteous sense of purpose in a good love poem.

Today I miss my friends and my friend's couches.

Today I miss public schools and even educational theatre.

Today, and always, I miss my family and the pack of dogs we keep.

Tarzanca

Whole lot of something going on, these days. Mid terms coming up, cold snaps and warm weather throwbacks (it's november 6th and toowarmdegrees celsius outside), but that aint so bad.

Got back last week from an amazing trip to Kapadokya, or cappadoccia, or maybe capadoccia? This place out in the east of Turkey with underground cities, cave cities, cave hostels, cave bars, tons of huge stone penises, and tourists.
Everything is beautiful, it was lovely.
I wish I was going to school there. It's making me realize how, in many ways I am just not a huge city boy.
Speaking of which, in May, I'm graduating.
In MAY, I'm graduating.
I'm GRADUATING.
In may.
Long time coming, but man, oh man, am I glad that I tacked on this time. The views alone are worth. I suppose this is normal, but I am struck every once in a while by the overwhelming feeling of not wanted to leave the haven that is education.
Grad school? Maybe. But first, tossing myself to the lions and subway trains in that tremendous city.

There was a time when I could hold my liquor. That time is obviously gone.

In Kapadokya we rented scooters. We drove around a lot. Saw a bunch. Got rained on. 9 of us in a line, battling the elements which high pitched engines and drawing the attention of all the village children. Such a great time.













I think I am getting the hang of it here. Someone once told me that for a place to feel like home, you have to leave and come back. I think she was right.


I took some photos of my friends for a photography project.



Oh, and Guillaume's family came to visit. It was fun. They were french. His mom made us dinner.

Bir tane çay.

So, all that fuss and no new posts in weeks.
Bear with me friends, I'm doing my best.

I am constantly struck with the wish that I was just traveling here and not studying here. I think I imagined responsibility in coming to Turkey. An idea that life needed to move in a certain way and that the new parameters would dictate that change in me. Rather, there is sort of a life transplant. Here I am, boiled down to tendencies, habits, and whatever personality labels I can remember, living in a place. A place called Turkey. That is all.

I want a place where my money is no good.

I seem to have lost my moleskine. But I think I have emailed most of the important things to other people. With one glaring exception, but reading that one over the phone may have served enough purpose. Relevancy can change so suddenly with these kinds of things.

I have discovered to my dismay that apparently there is no fall in Turkey. I am crossing my fingers for a sudden, miraculous, and hopefully soon, shift to Winter.

There is a little neighborhood home cooking restaurant that my landlady introduced me to here in Moda. We ate dolma. Grape leaves, wrapped around rices and spices, slow cooked, served with yogurt and spices. Lots of things are served with yogurt here. And they put mayo on baked potatoes. Still getting used to it, but the dolma was damn near perfect. We went again and met an older turkish couple. She works as a teacher, he sleeps and drinks rakı. I think he is the best.

He said that the Duke basketball team is the best.
Others are good, but Duke is the best.

I sweat a lot.
I took some pictures.
There will be some more on facebook.































Don't worry friends. I will try and scrounge up some substance to put here.
Hope you all are well.

Bayrama mama; or, bread cheese and cherries for days.

There is a feeling, at least for me, unique to traveling. At times, surprisingly liberating--a cacophony of foreign tongue surrounding you in a courtyard, and no need to process, respond to, or even comprehend any of it. Language broken down to appealing sounds and ear-catching bits. More often than not, I try to open my ears to all of it at once but, somehow, have yet to exhaust myself.





However, everything has an afterthought. More now than ever, I find myself with constant narration. My mind whirring with stimulus; all of it inherently good, intrinsically productive--at times, though, there is a...density to is all that can leaden one's steps.













Kadikoy Mussel Seller-
a man,
lighting his cigarette
his only concern his
his concern only his
pyramid of clicking black

the middle of a cobblestone street
amidst
the
jangling pockets
of drunken home-stumblers










...but most of all I am learning to love relaxing into the view.

Laundry, continued.

As far I can tell, there are no dryers in Turkey, and as a result, today I hung my first anything out to dry. Mom, I thought you would get a kick out of this.
Everything was going fine until it started to rain. But no worries, a little improvisation fixed that.















Everything survived the hurried move, except for a lone sock. No matter, just a reason to make friends with my downstairs neighbor.

Tonight we will head to a little tucked away nargile (hookah) bar that these Turkish guys showed us to watch the Fenerbache futbol match. Maybe I will have some more pictures. Maybe I will figure out how to use my new camera. Maybe I'll have something a bit more interesting to say.

Miss you all.

Dirty Laundry

after a week and ahalf abroad, here it is: The Travel Blog. I haven't been anywhere near blogspot since highschool, but I hope to make a habit of dumping thoughts, pictures and moleskine scribblings here while I'm abroad. Check back regularly and maybe it will get interesting.

I think it's actually fitting that I start this now, I'd rather the first few days of logisitical frustrations, heat, and one or two especially awkward people be mere anecdotes than full blown journal entries. For now, I have moved on past all that and settled into my wonderful flat (read: wonderful after the two motherly, Turkish cleaning ladies had their way with the place. I really wish I had a picture of them.) and feel much more comfortable with my surroundings in this beautiful and beguiling city.

I do however, have some photos of the flat:


Here we have various views from various windows (my balcony is cool but man, oh man, if I had that one across the street...), the kitchen, and my roomate. His name Guillaume, his interests include reading, and being French.