welcome home, maertz family, welcome home

the sun sets on our sojournings

Turks are warm and welcoming people, and likewise our time in Istanbul has been sunny and sweet. It's also been characterized by our awareness of tomorrow's imminent transition. We are, admittedly, a little burnt out on the backpack life, but nonetheless we maintain a sense of bittersweet closure as we share a smoke from the water pipe on our final travel night. From east to west and back as far as the Middle East, all five of our senses have feasted on every experience between two horizons and under the sun. Tomorrow we leave Istanbul, and leave behind 107 days worth of memories worthy of reliving. We don't really leave it all behind though, for with us we carry these nuggets of life into season two as we settle down in Amman, Jordan. Getting here has definitely been half the fun, and being that we're about to "arrive", tomorrow our pilgrimage road becomes an Arab city street in a home away from home.

the $184 taxi ride (and other feats of endurance)

In Istanbul, we're marveling at the 36 hour timeline of events that finally and surprisingly brought us here. From noon Friday until midnight Saturday/Sunday, we endured sleeplessness, hopelessness, and visions of hitchhiking nightmares that we thought were sure to befall us. Triumphant after a day and a half of back breaking pack carrying, like turtles in a marathon, we finally closed the door of our Istanbul hotel room, and gloriously closed the door on this travel chapter. The point of this post is to tell the tale; to read about it may take you almost as much time as we spent living it.

Friday, noon. We check out of our Mykonos hotel and, with our bags on our backs (and fronts), we brave the blustery island wind as we head down to town for lunch. Maybe we would have never moved on had we known what it was going to take.

2:15pm. In uneventful fashion, we board our ferry for a five and a half hour cruise back to Athens, Piraeus Port. The trip involves playing a lot of cards and sleeping on our arms. Let's go over what the plan was. Based on much internet research and some overthinking, we believed that we would take an overnight train from Athens to Thessaloniki, then catch another train on Saturday morning from Thessaloniki to Istanbul for arrival at 9:30 that night. It was almost that easy.

8:00pm. Back in Athens, the metro to the train station is cheaper and easier to use than we expect. We have an hour until the international ticket office closes (we didn't know that we actually had two), but inconsequentially we're above ground again in 20 minutes. The ticket office is easy to spot and unapologetic about being the bearer of some bad news.

8:30pm. There's now only one train per day to Istanbul departing in the afternoon? The man with alcohol on his breath presents us with a piece of paper outlining the schedule for traveling by train to Istanbul. There are indeed two options, but the sheet has been torn in half, and the other option (our method of choice) has been inexplicably and recently shelved--literally trashed. We talk to the domestic ticket office, she also talks to drunk international man, she talks to us again and offers no consolation, then we check with the bus terminal and consider spending $500 to fly instead.

9:30pm. Well, we don't want to unpack and pack again by staying in Athens, so we stick to our original expectation and purchase tickets for the overnight train to Thessaloniki. The one train per day schedule applies to the international leg from Thessaloniki to Istanbul. What this means for us is that now we'll have a 13 hour day in Thessaloniki before boarding a second overnight train at 8:00pm Saturday. We won't get to Istanbul until Sunday morning, but hey, here's to being cheap and on a budget and saving money by sleeping on the train two nights in a row.

11:59pm. On time--and prepared for the long road ahead--we depart. We make three Greek soldiers get out of our seats, but then befriend them and make good conversation in English for two and a half hours, then we sleep.

Saturday, 7:00am. Startled by our sudden arrival into Thessaloniki, we gather our stuff and squint at the dawn of a new day. Now what? We pass the international ticket window and figure that we'd be wise to check out the situation for our next night train. Maybe we'll bus it from here, who knows? The woman is kind, but provides only the expected information until, as we're walking away, she calls us back and informs us that there's a 7:15am train leaving for the Greece-Turkey border where we can then make a connection the rest of the way to Istanbul. Exactly! Why couldn't she have been in Athens last night to tell this to drunk international man? We're over Thessaloniki, give us two tickets.

7:15am. In hand we have our tickets and the following supplies purchased in a hurry: two chocolate croissants, one bag of oregano flavored chips, a 500 mL Coke Zero, and a pack of Werther's Originals. Ah, a balanced breakfast. There is no platform information anywhere, so we run to a station attendant and ask for the train to Pythion; Pythion, as we'll later learn, is a train depot, an outpost, in the farthest frontier of the Greek countryside. The station attendant doesn't even know our train, so he asks someone else who looks at us, says "Pythion?", and points to the same train we got off only 15 minutes ago.

8:00am. The train's rolling, but we're not quite sure about the direction in which it's rolling. Nonetheless, we have confirmation from four people that it ends at Pythion (well, at the Greece-Turkey border, at least). A man checks our tickets and sort of huffs and puffs as he says, "Istanbul?" He proceeds to tell us that there is no train to Pythion and that we'll need to catch a bus at the end of the line in Alexandroupolis, then he returns to checking tickets. What? Is he conspiring with drunk international man?

8:45am. My nails are nearly chewed off as the train clunks and clatters us toward our new destination, Alexandroupolis. There's a new ticket checker who's nicer and speaks better English, so we ask him about the Pythion situation. He only confirms our new reality, but adds that the bus is run by the train company and, even better, that it's included in the ticket price and should be waiting for us just when we arrive--brilliant!

Noon. We've befriended a Greek travel agent, and at this point, instead of pointing out the window at passing lakes and mountains, he becomes our interpreter. Another train attendant is trying to tell us in Greek that the train is running late and that we can't count on the bus to expedite us to our Istanbul train waiting at the border. We don't even know what time that train may leave, nor are we sure from where on the border this will take place, but we take his word for it. Oh yeah, and we're then instructed to get off the train at the second stop, where a taxi will be waiting to whisk us away to Turkey.

1:30pm. We don't really believe anyone or anything anymore, but at the same time we still listen to everyone. We're packed up as the train is coming to a stop in Komotini, and we follow the pointing fingers of men who may actually be trying to help us get to Istanbul. There's a taxi, backed in, trunk open, and an overweight Greek driver named Spiro (who speaks no English) becomes our escort. The best part about our upcoming ride is that, according to the train company, they were late, so they're paying for it.

1:37pm. We're doing 150 kph on a Greek highway with the windows down, and the jolly man behind the wheel is ecstatic because he knows he's getting paid today. Are we still in a hurry? We don't even know. We just keep driving, the meter keeps counting, and I keep pointing at our train tickets and saying, "Train. Istanbul." It's a beautiful day, and Spiro is blasting Greek music as we all snap our fingers to the beat. He points for me to mess with the radio station; I find Snow Patrol and give him the thumbs up, so he turns the volume way up.

3:05pm. We're passing through farmland when Spiro turns down a side road and reaches to remove his seatbelt. At this point we expect to be introduced to Spiro's friends and their weapons of choice for the quintessential crime, but alas, there are train tracks. Pythion! It's written on the station.

3:08pm. The meter is at just under 115 euros, but we don't care. All Spiro wants from us is a handshake. He walks us around the corner and introduces us to the Greek passport control agents who will stamp our pages for departure from the EU and the West. There are actually humans at this frontier station. It's old and quiet. All that's missing for the perfect scene from a country western movie are Clint Eastwood and some tumbleweeds. The train's sitting there, waiting, and it will leave on time at 3:30pm. We've made it! We even have time to stock up on supplies and relieve ourselves by trying our luck at the squatty potties. For the record, there is a second train from Greece to Istanbul, and you'll pay one third the price of a plane ticket for a ride and a better story. We had to hear one more train clunk and clatter on the tracks, only this time we were certain that the music was moving us to Istanbul.

halfway home

100! Incredibly, it's been that many days since the two of us embarked to fulfill this life size dream. While we're halfway home--and that's a nice thought--we also continue to wonder whether we're halfway to anywhere else. You know, whether we're making progress in our spiritual, relational, and personal pursuits. We like to believe so, and in that spirit we press on in our journey of the heart. Yesterday I was inspired by the following Arab proverb: "What comes from the lips reaches the ears, but what comes from the heart reaches the heart."

Greece has been an exercise in doing very little. With views of the Mediterannean below and sunshine that doesn't stop from above, we've been soaking up a week of the hottest May here in years. We've also been writing, reading, chatting, and eating way too many gyros. Yes, there is food for the stomach and food for the soul here in the Greek islands.

As we move on to Istanbul and approach our arrival into Amman, Jordan on June 5th, we're reminded of the many who step into our world by visiting us here on our blog and keeping in touch with us. We're thankful that our family, friends, and future are never far from us.

when in rome (and sorrento)

We wrapped up a week's worth of Italy with Dad and were sad to see him go; the time was sweet. He did some writing of his own, so we thought we'd share it below and let him tell a couple tales from Sorrento and Rome.

This morning we sleep a little longer. I spend the most relaxing morning of my life watching the boats pass, the flowers grow and the birdies fly. I read and relax. I think of Mary and feel her presence. I doze off and wake up drooling. It is good. Later, we shop, eat some lunch (pizza number 5). We jump the 2:30 boat to Capri. Once there, we rent our own Capri boat and circle the island, navigate an arch, savor the blue water of the Tyrrhenian Sea (still not the Mediterranean) and anchor for a swim. It is a memorable day. Back in Sorrento, we watch another sunset on the roof, listen to music and talk.

I wake early--kind of. I check on the car. OK good, still there and no ticket. What does that sign read? I shop a little, we eat a light breakfast. We head out and decide to buy tour bus tickets--you know, one of those jump on / jump off type. We see the Pantheon (eat lunch at McDonald's across the piazza), grab the bus to the Vatican and climb to the top of St Peter’s for some great views of Rome. We see the Sistine Chapel and I decide that either the early Romans had too much time and money on their hands or we have too little. This place is impressive, big and there are lots of tourists. And Wanida is taking just as many pictures as the rest of them. Hers are just more creative. No more Italian food. We eat at a fine Chinese restaurant on the other side of the apartment complex. They are not kidding when they say that Italians like their food. There are restaurants everywhere, and we are staying in a local neighborhood.

Back to just the two of us. It's sunny and splendid right now. We're basking on the picture perfect island of Santorini in Greece. It could be difficult to leave this place, so we may be here a while. Consider it an opportunity to catch a flight and catch up with us in person; pull up a chair and join us, sitting, perched above the sea.

family and the french riviera

On Friday we officially welcomed (with many hugs) my dad, as the three of us now venture together through the France/Italy leg of our trip. What a treat to share such experience with someone so dear. For four nights we've been living the high life on the ritzy French Riviera, soaking up the colors of Nice, and going big by trying to mix and mingle in rich and famous Monaco and Monte Carlo. Tomorrow we don our wings again as we catch a flight and puddle jump to Italy--Rome, Sorrento, Capri, the Amalfi Coast, and a return to Rome.

As always, photos and stories are being added to our Picasa page. Hopefully you haven't missed the little pics link on the right side of this page, but just in case, click here too: pics on picasa

finding ourselves in barcelona

Spain is a country that makes it easy to relax. One is obliged to pose the question: Do people work here? I mean, they must, because everything is open and everyone is tending to his or her shop, but it doesn't take long to realize that each and every venue is open (and open late) to facilitate the enjoyment of life. Perhaps I've managed to avoid the business districts and corporate headquarters, because my eyes have surveyed only street entertainers, corner restaurants, patio cafes, backstreet bars, local markets, and picturesque parks. What's more, my heart and soul have surrendered to slowing down, stopping by, and just being instead of doing. In that time, I ask bigger questions and think deeper thoughts, and then, suddenly, I begin to believe that I have all the answers I need. Yes, I think I'll just remain in such a state of bliss for a little while longer, then tomorrow night we'll leave for France to meet up with my dad, and French people will start getting snooty at me for being an American, and I'll get frustrated too, and I'll forget all my life answers.

cheers and tears: granada, spain!

we rolled into granada on our high flying overnight bus ride, and crossed our fingers as we arrived to our "completely booked" hotel. she shook her head. we were nervous. she apologized for not having our room available... instead she offered us a key to a suite!!! she upgraded us!!! trying to compose ourselves, we giggled the whole way up to our grand suite. we could have invited a host of elephants, that's how much room we had. the enormous balcony, the bed, the two person jet bathtub, all of it... rocked!!! it took a lot to get us out of that room, and back onto the granada streets, exploring again. we explored; and we discovered a charming little spanish-arab town. the pride of this town is their 9th century Moorish (arab) palace, the Alhambra. like joe had mentioned, smart people get tickets in advance, not so smart people (like us), wake up really early and get in a line, hoping to be one of the lucky ones. that's exactly what we did the next day. we were prepared; we had a plan. we arranged for a 5:30am wake up call, and a 6:15am taxi to the Alhambra, ready to wait in line until the office opened at 8:30am. everything was set, until, instead of a wake up call, we got a call, "your taxi is here." the hotel had forgotten to write down our wake up call, and that's when our perfect plan began to unravel. we rushed rushed down to the taxi, only to be greeted by a waiting meter of $16. at 6:40am, our taxi delivered us to an Alhambra ticket office that held a crowd of people 2 football fields long. miserable. we climbed into our spot, and in the darkness of morning, we waited. anxiously, we waited, as the remaining 600 tickets could be sold out at any time! we could not believe how the story unfolded. it was 9:20am when the moment came, and we realized we were lucky number 601. not good folks. the guy right in front of us bought the very last ticket!!! ahhhhh.... the misery. we wallowed for some time, and then tried to gear up for their consolation prize... the Alhambra gardens. no one comes to granada just to see the gardens, but we did. :) in the end, we had to make the most of it. later in the day we found a market and treated ourselves to a sweet bottle of cheap sparkling wine and a bag of 10 plastic cups. as we sat at the foot of this fountain in a busy little square, we filled our two glasses to the rim and toasted to spain and all that lies ahead... including another overnight bus ride to barcelona!

west side

We know, we know--where in the world have we been? Good question. We've definitely failed of late at keeping you in the loop. Our apologies if you feel like you're not getting your money's worth out of this, and sorry too if we're not better bloggers this month either. We made it to Europe last week, and this continent is expensive! Prices for internet will be no exception, we're figuring. Just a warning. Anyway, an update on us:

Going back in time a little bit, we wrapped up six weeks in Asia by continuing to explore the sights and sounds of Beijing, then last Wednesday we bid farewell to eastern culture as we followed our compass west. So, Portugal is where we've been, Portual is where we are--for now. Tonight we depart for Spain, perhaps Wanida's favorite country in the world, but our time here has also been a favorite. A best friend of Wanida's lives here near Lisbon with her husband and two young children, so for a week we've been babysitting (practicing for parenthood), catching up, sharing some good meals, walking by the water, and going on outings here and there. Last weekend we even joined them up north in Porto for surf camp! We don't surf though.

As we begin our trek back east across Europe toward Istanbul and, ultimately, Amman, I'm coming to terms with the fact that last minute travel through Europe on a budget is a logistical nightmare. Take tomorrow, for example. It's a holiday weekend in Spain (who knew), so we'll get to Granada (in which there are zero beds available) to see the Alhambra (for which they limit the number of daily visitors), and we can't find a place to sleep in the city or purchase advance tickets to see the attraction. We believe we've got a hotel just outside Granada, but I Skyped the front desk, and the woman's report of the room situation conflicts with what we booked on the internet. Nonetheless, we're showing up tomorrow with our reservation confirmation, then we're showing up early Saturday morning to buy Alhambra tickets. Admittedly, in the grand scheme of planning and preparing for this trip, Europe was a minor detail, but now it is not. Flights are expensive, Eurail and trains are expensive and a hassle, and gas--if we rented a car--is painfully expensive (converts to $8 or $9 a gallon, it does)! Start thinking old school, and I'll let you in on what we foresee for the future: tonight, a 12 hour bus ride from Lisbon to Granada (that's right, bus ride); tomorrow night, staying in Granada, hopefully sheltered from the elements; Saturday night, another 12 hour bus ride from Granada to Barcelona. Beyond that, life may be a little easier again. We'll spend probably four nights in Barcelona inventing teleportation before we use it as a new and creative way to get to Nice, France, where we're looking forward to meeting up with my dad next Friday. Watch the news for word of our scientific/travel achievement for the 21st century.