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Rick Steves: Blog Gone Europe

I'm on the road in Spain, Italy, Slovenia, Montenegro and Bosnia — weaving my travel experiences into my business, and sharing what's on my mind. If you think it's inappropriate for a travel writer to stir up discussion on his blog with political observations and insights gained from traveling abroad, you may not want to read any further. — Rick

I'm offering the Turkish perspective on three hot-button issues that are in the news lately. (See my last posting for their take on the "Armenian Holocaust.")

About the Kurds:

Turkey is sensitive to issues relating to its 10 million Kurdish people. When we took tours through southeastern Turkey, the Kurdish colors (red, green, and yellow) were the most politicized colors I remember encountering in my travels. (Our guide forbade us to endanger our tour by picking up simple knickknacks with these powerful colors in the villages we stopped in.) Later, I spent a week filming a TV show in Eastern Turkey. It seemed every time we pulled out the camera, military police zoomed in on their jeeps and stopped us. We once even got taken into a commander’s tent to (sip tea and) explain that we weren’t working with the Kurds.

With the seemingly imminent breakup of Iraq and the virtual autonomy of a Kurdistan now just over the Turkish border, the issue is back in the news. Here’s how my Turkish friends explain it:

Turkey’s citizens are officially called “the Turks” — there are no other ethnic groups or minorities recognized by Turkish law. (On paper, every citizen shares equal privileges and responsibilities.) Among the country’s various “unofficial” ethnic groups, the Kurds are significant, making up about 20 percent of Turkey’s population. They live mostly in the southeast, just across the border from their ethnic cousins in Iraq and Iran.

In Turkey, a militant Kurdish separatist group — the PKK — has fought a bloody campaign against the government off and on since 1984. While the PKK had been fairly quiet for the past decade (even agreeing to some pretty successful truces), the prospect of Iraq falling apart — and Iraqi Kurds forming an autonomous nation — has reignited PKK activity.

While my Turkish friends claim (perhaps correctly) that the majority of Kurds in Turkey do not support any separatist movement, the PKK has found fertile ground to reorganize in Northern Iraq, and now the Turkish government wants to send its troops across the border to eliminate the “terrorist threat.”

And speaking of 400-pound gorillas in the room, Turkey fears that a potential Kurdish State of Northern Iraq will tempt otherwise happy Kurds living in Turkey to become Kurdish Kurds rather than Kurdish Turks. Turkey has made it very clear that it will go to war rather than allow that to happen.

I hope the nightmare brought on by the break-up of Iraq--as predicted (before the Iraq War) by people who understood the complex ethnic situation in the Middle East--is not approaching.

Posted by Rick Steves on October 30, 2007
Comments (15)

Having just been in Turkey, I'm tuned in to three thorny issues that are in the news about Turkey these days: The “Armenian Holocaust,” Kurdish separatists in Turkey, and Turkish membership in the European Union. I'm less clever than our Vice President on these matters. But I thought I’d pass along how my Turkish friends explain them.

About the Armenians:

I have a personal affinity for Turkey, and whenever I rave about the place as a travel destination, I get..."flack" is not quite the right word...from Greeks and Armenians about the ugly history of that troubled region. Armenians insist that I make Turkey admit to committing, specifically, "genocide." Turks don't want me to talk about Armenia and would never put those two words in the same sentence. (I filmed at a ruined Armenian church on Lake Van and tried to deal constructively with the issue in one of my TV episodes...and I angered both my Turkish friend and Armenians.) Even though I know I just can't win on this issue, let me try to explain what I've picked up on this in Turkey:

From 1915 through 1917, while Britain, France and Russia were trying to divide up the Ottoman Empire, hundreds of thousands of Ottoman Armenians and Turks were killed in what was seen by many at the time as an effort to stop a rebellion of separatist Armenians.

Like the Muslim Turks and non-Muslims in the region, the Armenians had lived in relative peace and prosperity for centuries under the Ottoman administration. But starting in the late 1800s and escalating during World War I, the Russians and British — eager to undermine the pro-German Ottoman regime — enlisted Armenian groups to rise up against it. As a consequence, the Armenians suffered the bloody wrath of a dying empire.

Today, many descendants of the survivors (the Armenian Diaspora) live in France and the USA. An independent country of Armenia has emerged in what was once Soviet territory…while many of that civilization's historic treasures lie ruined and desolate, just across the border in eastern Turkey.

Some of my most poignant travels have been wandering through ancient buildings deserted or destroyed in the early 20th century...lasting reminders of the slaughter of Armenians and the tragedy that the ethnic group that once thrived there will never return.

To this day, the government of the Turkish Republic (which didn’t exist until 1923, several years after the slaughter of the Armenian people) has never officially admitted to any wrongdoing. Armenians are mourning an almost Nazi-like genocide. But the Turks see something more analogous to the American Civil War: the South insisted on seceding and fired the first shots, so they are the ones who could have prevented the disaster from ever happening. Turks I’ve spoken with have no problem with having the truth investigated and debated on the world stage. But they want historians — not politicians — to do the assessment.

Coming up: Turkey and the debate over small Kurds and large Kurds.

Posted by Rick Steves on October 29, 2007
Comments (16)

Question: Did you see the new Acropolis Museum in Athens? What did you think of it?
Answer: I saw the huge building, but it won’t be finished for some time yet. I understand it has a huge space devoted to the Elgin Marbles — those parts of the Parthenon taken by the English and now shown in London’s British Museum. London has long said Athens doesn’t have an acceptable place to display the marbles. When the new museum opens, that will change. But all of the people I met agreed that the British Museum will never give up the Elgin Marbles because if they did, all the other original owners of the booty and plunder of the British Empire that fills the British Museum would ask for their precious national artifacts to be returned, as well.

Question: How do you talk to your own kids about drugs?
Answer: Andy (age 20) and Jackie (17) know I believe marijuana belongs with alcohol as a soft drug — apart from hard drugs. And they know I believe all drugs are not for kids. I invited the president of NORML (National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws), Keith Stroup, over for dinner so they could meet a lawyer dedicating his career to changing a law that is misguided and largely based on lies (the prohibition on marijuana). Keith explained to our children what he does and why. Our kids understand that marijuana, like alcohol, is a drug that is not good for you and that can be dangerous. They understand that it is not for minors. They also understand that pot, like alcohol, can be used responsibly by adults. They understand that the role of our government is not to legislate morality or determine what we put into our minds or bodies. Laws should, however, be strictly enforced to stop people from doing harm to others (including if under the influence of a drug).

Question: One reader suggested that "mandatory exchange programs" could help facilitate world peace. Would you be in favor of an idea like that?
Answer: I think the world would be smart to establish a fund to pay for a trip abroad for every American after graduation. They would then return home with a better grasp on the fact that Americans are less than 5 percent of the planet's population, and the rest of humanity doesn’t necessarily have the American Dream...and that’s not a bad thing. Americans would be less fearful, which would help create an America that is not routinely outvoted in the UN 140 to 4.

Question: How would you suggest tourists go from Athens to Monemvasia?
Answer: I’d rent a car. The roads are great. Public transit can be frustrating in Greece, and it’s so much fun to drive its back roads.

Question: During Ramadan, is food readily available during "normal" western meal times? Any practical advice about eating during Ramadan in Turkey?
Answer: This is an understandable concern, but I found that a typical tourist would be unaware that Ramadan is even on when it comes to eating when everyone else is fasting. There are plenty of non-practicing Turks who eat during daylight hours, while their devout Muslim neighbors aren't. I found all restaurants open, just not crowded...until after evening prayer.

Question: Did you get a sense from women about how they felt about wearing head scarves in Turkey?
Answer: Modern secular Turkish women, it seems, would fight to the death not to wear a scarf if a theocratic government required it. Women who do wear religious head coverings do so because it fits their faith. I was told it is the women who are targeted by religious leaders, and women who are driving Turkish society into a more orthodox style of Muslim faith. Their men seem willing to follow their lead.

Posted by Rick Steves on October 26, 2007
Comments (13)

There have been lots of questions over the last month on this blog. Let me answer a few of them:

Question: Will you ever do any more TV shows like the Travel Skills Special, with more general information about travel?
Answer: I’d like to. The three-part Travel Skills series we did is getting old, my old aviator glasses are looking dorkier than ever, and we could do it in high definition with the new 9 by 16 widescreen format. Most important: Travel has changed, and the skills need updating. The challenge: It takes three weeks in Europe to make it. Stay tuned.

Question: Are you planning any TV shows on Istanbul? Have you thought about visiting and/or filming in Riga? Lithuania and Latvia? Finland? Iceland? Malta?
Answer: I plan to shoot a new show on Istanbul in April. I have a great script for Helsinki and Tallinn in Estonia (likely in three years). I need to learn more about Riga and Vilnius. I’d like to do a show on the Baltic capitals. I have no plans for Malta or Iceland.

Question: Is there a way for people to see your St. Peter video when it comes out? (Other than through the Lutheran Church?) Will you post it? YouTube it?
Answer: The video will be finished within a month and it will be posted on YouTube (as my Luther video is now) and available on DVD through the ELCA. (It’ll be sent to all 12,000 ELCA Lutheran churches.)

Question: How about a guidebook focusing on wine regions and Back Door wineries?
Answer: I don’t do special-interest guidebooks such as those. And I’m not enough of a wine enthusiast to do a good job on that one anyway.

Question: Will you ever write a Greece guidebook?
Answer: Greece is my obvious gap. And I’m afraid it will stay that way. I don’t want to do a book that I am not enthusiastic about and that I couldn’t follow through and make it deserve the high sales it might enjoy. As I learned on my recent trip, I like Greece...but it just isn’t my forte. So I’ll let others with a passion for Greece be the teachers.

Question: Would you consider making a tour for people with different physical abilities? For mature travelers who want to go at a slower pace?
Answer: We are talking about a slower, less physically demanding tour, but nothing is in the works.

Question: Will you offer a single supplement on your tours?
Answer: We already offer single supplements on a few of our tours. But on other tours, it would require more individual rooms, which would force us to abandon many of our small, characteristic hotels — which we are very reluctant to do. Much of how we shape and promote our tours is designed to attract a hardy, fun-to-travel-with, and low-maintenance crowd. We believe our "no grumps" policy makes for a better tour.

Question: Did you ever think of a 7-day trip to Athens (with day trips)? A week-long city tour of Istanbul?
Answer: I would not do such a tour for Athens, but a week-long Istanbul tour is something we are considering. I’ll be doing TV shows on both destinations this April. To make Athens work, I’ll need to side-trip to Delphi and the Isle of Hydra. My challenge with Istanbul is that it could easily fill two scripts. Istanbul is just bursting with fun experiences that will make great TV.

Posted by Rick Steves on October 24, 2007
Comments (22)

As a Lutheran Christian, I learned long ago that the best way to enjoy St. Peter's Basilica — which I have for 30 years considered the greatest church in Christendom — is to check your sword at the door and accept it on its terms: To enter into that dazzling sanctuary and focus on God (which is the intent of the place).

I inhale the incense, forget about gender issues and “infallible truths” that have been fought over and revised through the years, and ditch concerns about financial priorities and where all the money to build it came from. I see St. Peter's as an awe-inspiring human work done by faithful people for the glory of God.

I used to get all uptight when I entered that church. I don’t anymore. In fact, a highlight of my Roman visits is to go to Mass at St. Peter's. (As far as the Eucharist and me being of another denomination…it’s “don’t ask, don’t tell.”) My visits lift my spirits and put me in a great mood.

To a Protestant mindset, complaining about your church leaders is just something we do. And it doesn’t bring thunderbolts. We’re all on the same team, and we Protestants complain as we go because we care.

There’s a fundamental difference between attacking someone’s faith and disagreeing with their denomination’s leaders. It seems to me that, among Christians, only Catholics believe that if you attack the ideas of their human and mortal leader, you’re “attacking their faith.”

I’ve been inspired by many courageous Catholics in our generation. The Catholics of our era I’ve been most inspired by are the priests and nuns who stand by the struggling people of Central America. They threaten the secular order and are routinely excommunicated for their “liberation theology” by Catholic leaders high in that Church hierarchy. They keep on Catholic keepin’ on because they believe a part of their vow of obedience to the church is (in their words) “disobedience to the Church.”

When I am writing, whether or not I capitalize "church" is a big issue. Capital-C "Church" refers to church government — fallible, political, necessary, and well-meaning...but corruptible. In my denomination, for instance, the church is not homophobic but, in many cases, the Church is. When I have friends so mad at God that they purge faith from their lives, they are usually mad at the Church...not the church. That saddens me. I would never take my frustrations with the Church out on the church. The distinction is critical.

I’m inclined to complain about things the Catholic Church does. But I’m not anti-Catholic. I don’t think I’m any more anti-Catholic than those excommunicated priests and nuns in Nicaragua. I’m married to a smart and beautiful woman who is Catholic. She comes from the best family I've ever run into. Our son goes to a Catholic university (Notre Dame). I’m in Rome — donating several days of work to the church (not the Church) to produce a video celebrating the life, work, and Christian leadership of the first pope, St. Peter.

The last time I flew south of our border, it was to El Salvador to honor a Catholic bishop. It was the 25th anniversary of the assassination of the courageous Archbishop Oscar Romero. (Read the journal from that trip on my website.) I marched and worshipped with countless Roman Catholics whose faith was stronger than the faith I encounter (in any denomination) in my city. It was a beautiful and inspirational experience.

Strange. I make a point not to comment much on the discussion my blog entries generate. It’s fun to just share an idea and let all the traveling readers of this blog respond. But in this case, I don’t like to be called "anti-Catholic," and certainly not "anti-Christian." My work is motivated by my Christian faith. I just have a style of worship named for a priest/professor who enjoyed beer and sex...and married a nun.

Posted by Rick Steves on October 22, 2007
Comments (31)

My guide friend in Rome is getting a divorce. It’s uncontested. They just want to be through. A divorce used to take five to ten years in Italy. He said now, it takes only three. "Only" three years? I asked why so long? He said, “You were there this morning.” I understood. It was the Vatican.

While Italians are not particularly churchgoing, the Vatican still has a huge influence on Italian society. According to my local friends, the new pope (Benedict XVI) is particularly activist when it comes to homosexuality. I was told gay couples have no legal rights in Italy.

Benedict won’t even let the portrait busts of gay lovers (who haven’t sinned in 2,000 years) share the same museum shelf. As long as people could remember, Emperor Hadrian’s head was displayed next to his gay boyfriend (the incredibly beautiful — and young — Antinous). Antinous was recently moved out, leaving Hadrian’s bust all alone.

Horrible as it may seem to us in modern times, in ancient times, it was acceptable for a man to keep a boy as a lover — but only until the boy had hair on his chest. In ancient Greek morality, to love a boy was considered pure — no child possible, absolute love for love’s sake. (Please don’t shoot me — I’m just the messenger.) Many Romans I met — while not negative about the teachings of the Church — had a bad attitude about the Vatican’s wealth and bureaucracy. Guides who deal daily with the frustration of Vatican Museum crowds know that 20,000 visitors pack into the Vatican museum each morning. At 13 euros each, that’s about $400,000 revenue each morning simply from the museum.

Like Americans have a box on their tax forms giving them the opportunity to donate to political campaigns, Italians have a voluntary box to donate to the Roman Catholic Church. By all accounts, it’s rarely used.

About the Vatican labor force — when Pope John XXIII was asked how many people work in the Vatican, he answered, “About half.”

Posted by Rick Steves on October 19, 2007
Comments (29)

I intended to be finished with Turkey — but the vivid images blow like snow drifts against my mind. I can’t leave until I dig out.

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Each night during my six-night stay in Istanbul, I was drawn to the Ramadan street fair — the rollicking food fest after the fast. Six floodlit minarets rocket into black sky above hordes of people. Sticky treats shine under swinging lamps. Young girls make head scarves fashionable. Turkish coffee cooks in copper kettles buried deep in red coals. Hourglass-shaped tea glasses fit fists — Anatolian hand-warmers. All the little children know two phrases in English: “How old are you?” and “What is your name?”

Standing on a ledge overlooking the jammed mosque courtyard, I don’t understand this scene. I talk with a brother and sister. Their dad is an imam. I say, “Where I come from, pastor’s kids are trouble — we call them PKs.” The sister said that would not be her...but it would be her brother.

My guide said the ruins that break through the Istanbul cityscape come with a message: the vanity of all aspiration to empire. It made me think. She also explained how moustaches in Turkey make a political statement. I think it was, “up is communist, down is fascist.” I took a note to make political-statement moustaches along with turban fashion a conversation on a future radio interview.

Walking across the Blue Mosque front yard, a man in a colorful traditional outfit saw my book and opened it to the title page. There he was, pictured with his traveling tea service. I took his photo posing with the photo of himself (he didn’t know I was the author) and gave him a lira (worth a bit less than a dollar). Walking away, I heard the coin hit the sidewalk and the man say in a disgusted voice, “Toilet money!” He must make plenty of money off that photo. It was the rudest encounter of my Istanbul visit. (Or, perhaps, I’m just really clueless about what to tip tea boys for their photo.)

Travel teaches me how we are so different, yet essentially the same. For instance, out of all this Turkish wonder, my friend, co-author, and guide Lale drove me to her home — down an eight-lane California-quality freeway to a gated community of condo-dwellers that could have been suburban Dallas.

Lale’s mother (in from Ankara to help with the new baby) greeted us with the five-month-old baby, “Zu-zu,” in her arms. Lale took the baby, turned to me, looked over her glasses, and said, “I’m a very logical woman.

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I know how to separate facts from emotion. But when it comes to my baby, the world stops spinning. My doctor and I talked. He said for a mother, hormones rule the body and there’s no way to control them.”

Posted by Rick Steves on October 18, 2007
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One of the frustrations when I blog is to get my file up as soon as possible...and then I get the photos in later. Photos can add so much to the experiences, it’s a shame not to have them up with the entry from the start. Oh well. I’ve uploaded some photos for recent entries and added captions (just click to get caption and big version of the photo).

Checking in at the airport while leaving Turkey I weighed my bags (carry-on and day bag with laptop and everything). I had never done that before. It was heavier than I thought: 14.3 kilos (about 30 pounds).

Next up, Rome…a little filming for my church and a little Italian food and fun.

Posted by Rick Steves on October 16, 2007
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Sitting in a museum café, I heard tourists quizzing their guide — trying to get it straight. “So, where did they get the name Quran for their Bible? So, it could be considered a Bible?” Sooner or later, at a mosque visit, every Turkish guide is asked, “So, was this church built before or after Christ?” I like seeing guides heroically stay charming, and stick with the tour-guide mantra, "There are no stupid questions.”

Things are confusing. I’m here during the holy month of Ramadan and devout Muslims are high-profile in the streets. No-name neighborhood mosques literally overflow during prayer time and carpets are unfurled on sidewalks, interrupting the pedestrian flow.

At the edge of town, I passed an old shepherd with small flock enjoying some public grass in a freeway cloverleaf, surrounded by the sprawl of 10 million people. In the midst of all that modernity, he was raising sheep for an upcoming Muslim “sacrificial festival.”

Ramadan is, in balance, a great time to travel. You don’t realize it, but most people are not eating or even drinking all day. I offered my waiter a suck of my hookah water pipe. He put his hand to his heart and explained he’d love to, but he was fasting for Ramadan.

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If you sleep lightly, you’ll wake to the sound of a prayer and meal just before dawn. Sun rises and the day-long fast begins. Then, at about 7 p.m., the food comes out, and the festival begins. Mohammad broke his fast with dried date or olive — so that’s usually the fast-breaker to this day. Saying, “Allah kabul etsin” (may God accept…your fast today),” the staff at a restaurant where I was just having a drink welcomed me to photograph them and then offered to share.

Every time I witness the breaking of the fast, people offered to share their food. At the restaurant I said no, but they set me up anyway — figs, lentil soup, bread, Coke and baklava. I thought the Coke was a bit odd… but my guide said it’s not considered American any more. It’s truly global.

I don’t want to overstate this move to the right in Turkey, but keen and caring observers are concerned that it's an ominous start. Imagine not being a fundamentalist and watching your country gradually become fundamentalist — one universal interpretation of scripture, religious clothing and prayer in school, women covering up and accepting a scripturally ordained subservient role to men, laws being rewritten. A ruling class that believes they are right and others are wrong.

I have friends in Turkey almost distraught at this country’s movement to the right.

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It’s an emotional and confusing thing to witness and try to understand. It’s an evolution that is like a rising tide…seemingly impossible to stop.

I am intrigued by teenage Muslim Britney-wannabes covering up under scarves. You know they wear high heels and thongs…but their heads are covered. In a fine silk shop, the girl there demonstrates scarf-wrapping techniques. One way looks simply demure and conservative. Then she ties it under her chin and around her face with an extra fold on top and she becomes orthodox. It was chilling to watch. I got goose bumps.

At the Eyüp Sultan Mosque, one attracting the most conservative worshippers, state-employed female security guards were wearing conservative, religious headscarves (striking — even ominous — to local observers). Stalls offering free food, literature and computer programs with a Mavis Beacon-type prayer guide surrounded the mosque. Targeting poor and less-educated cross=sections with incentives, it reminded me of the old-school “bras and bibles” strategy of Christian missionaries. People say there’s huge money (especially from Wahhabi Saudi Arabia) promoting Muslim orthodoxy.

The mosque was filled to capacity and the courtyard was filled with the overflow crowd. Village women knelt to pray with their men. My friend predicted that in two years, they will no longer pray next to men. She pointed to a stairway already filled with fundamentalist women who believed they should worship separately.

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There’s discussion of adding “women” to the section of the Turkish constitution which promises “children and the disabled are under the protection of the state.” Modern women wonder why they would be put in with kids and the disabled. Propaganda is directed at women, and it is the women who are pulling moderate Muslim societies like Turkey to the right.

I asked, “Should a Christian be threatened by Islam?” My friend said, “If you have self-confidence in your system, assuming it deserves to survive, it will thrive. Christendom should be threatened by Islam only if the Christian West seeks empire here.”

I find a huge irony in the American fight with Islam. I believe we’re incurring incalculable costs (real and intangible) because we are nervous about something we don’t need to be nervous about. And because we’re nervous about it, we need to be nervous.

Posted by Rick Steves on October 14, 2007
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The famous question travelers get from loved ones is, “Why are you going to Turkey?” As I settle into Istanbul, one of my favorite cities, my thought: Why would anyone not travel here? (And, frankly, why would anyone go to Athens at Istanbul’s expense?)

Settling into my hotel room, I do a trip-end sort through my clothes: dirty and too dirty to wear. I assess how much hand washing I’ll need to do to get home. I spin through the TV channels. Gauzy love songs for lonely men play in the wee hours. I hide the remote.

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Quite tired, I’m about to plop down on the toilet and I notice that small nozzle threatening to poke me in tail bone if I do. Not trusting the design, I sit gingerly...and find it’s okay. Still, this ominous little nozzle seems like the evil, germ-spreading equivalent of a bee-spreading pollen. I make a note to ask my Turkish friends about this finger and sprinkle alternative to toilet paper. (I’ll stick with TP.)

My hotel has a great breakfast terrace. It’s open at night for gazing past floodlit husks of forts and walls, out at the sleepy Bosporus, with Asia just across the inky straits. The strategic waterway is speckled with the lights of freighters at anchor stretching far into the distance. I recall the origin of the Turkish flag — a white star and sliver moon on a reflected in a pool of bright red blood after a great battle. Today, the sliver moon shines over not blood but money…trade and shipping…struggles in the arena of capitalism.

At breakfast, the same view is lively. An oil tanker heading for a Romanian fill-up is light and riding high — the exposed tank makes its prow cut through the water like a plow. As I scan the city, it occurs to me it’s physically not that different from my city. I could replace the skyline of domed mosques and minarets with churches and spires, and it could be the rough end of Any City, USA.

I’ve veered away from cereal, and for my Turkish breakfasts I’m going local — olives, feta cheese, cucumbers, tomatoes, bread and horrible Tang juice. Gazing at my plate, I study the olive oil. Ignoring the three olive pits — sucked very clean and floating like little turds — I see tiny, mysterious flakes of spices. They’re doing a silent do-si-do to distant lyrics that tell of arduous camel caravan rides from China.

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Later that day, wandering under stiletto minarets, I watch hardworking speakers lashed to the crow's nest belt out a call to prayer. I think, “Charming, they’ve draped Christmas lights between the minarets." But the people around me would come to my house and say, “Charming, he’s draped minaret lights on his Christmas tree."

I marvel at the multi-generational conviviality at the Hippodrome — that long, oblong square still shaped like a chariot racecourse, as it was 15 centuries ago. Precocious children high-five me and ask, “What is your name?” Just to enjoy their confused look, I say, “Fifty-two.”

Posted by Rick Steves on October 12, 2007
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Sitting down in the yellow taksi at Istanbul’s Ataturk Airport and seeing the welcoming grin of the unshaven driver greet me with a "merhaba," I just blurted out, “Çok Güzel.” I forgot I remembered the phrase. It just came to me — like a baby shouts for joy. I was back and it was “very good” indeed.

I went through a decade-long period of annual visits, but it’s been years since I wished a Turk “merhaba” — that local "aloha" or "namaste" that ices rough people with gentility. My first hours in Turkey were filled with déjà vu moments like no travel homecoming I’ve ever had.

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As the taksi turned off the highway and into the tangled lanes of the tourist “green zone” (just below the Blue Mosque with all the tourist-friendly businesses still lined up with that desirous “Yes, Mister”), I looked at the dirty kids in the streets and remembered a rougher time, when they would earn small change hanging out the passenger door of ramshackle vans. They’d yell “Sirkeci, Sirkeci, Sirkeci” or whichever neighborhood was ahead in a scramble to pick up passengers in the shared mini-bus taksi’s called dolmus (that wild cross between a taxi, a bus, and a kidnapping vehicle literally and so appropriately called a “squish”).

While Turkey’s new affluence has killed the dolmus, the echoes of the boys hollering from the vans bounced happily all around me. "Aksaray, Aksaray, Aksaray...Sultanahmet, Sultanahmet, Sultanahmet." My favorite call was for the train station’s neighborhood: "Sirkeci, Sirkeci, Sirkeci."

Stepping out of my shoes and into the vast and turquoise (a color early French travelers took home as the “color of the Turks”) of the not-quite-rightly-named Blue Mosque, something was missing. Yes…gone was the smell of so many sweaty socks, knees, palms and foreheads soaked into the ancient carpet, upon which worshippers did their quite physical (as Mohammad intended) prayer work-outs. Sure enough, the Blue Mosque has a fresh new carpet — with a subtle design that keeps worshippers organized like lined paper tames letters.

Prayer lets out and a crush of locals heads for the door. The only way to get any personal space is to look up. And that breathtaking scene plays again for me — hard pumping seagulls powering through the humid air in a black sky, coming into the light as they cross in front of floodlit minarets.

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Walking down to the Golden Horn Bay and Istanbul’s churning waterfront, I miss the old Galata Bridge — so rusted with life’s struggles. But the vivid street life — boys casting their lines, old men sucking on water pipes, sesame rings filling cloudy glass carts — has retaken the new bridge.

And on the sloppy adjacent harborfront, the venerable “fish and bread boats” are still rocking in the constant churn of the busy harbor. In a humbler day, they were 20 foot long open dinghies — rough boats with battered car tires for fenders — with open fires grilling fish literally fresh off the boat. For a few coins, they’d bury a big white fillet in a hunk of white bread, wrap it in newsprint and I was on my way…dining out on fish.

A few years ago the fish and bread boats were shut down — no license or taxes. Now, after a popular uproar, they’re back. A bit more hygienic and no longer wrapping in newspaper — but still rocking in the waves and slamming out fish. (The 3 lire or $2.50 sandwich remains the best poor man’s meal going.)

In Turkey, I have more personal rituals than in other countries. I cap my days with a bowl of sütlaç. That’s rice pudding — still served in a square and shiny stainless steel bowl with a matching spoon not much bigger than a gelato sampler with a sprinkle of cinnamon.

And I challenge a local to a game of backgammon — still a feature in restaurants, tea houses and cafes. Boards no longer smell of tobacco, with softer wood inlays worn deeper than the hard wood.

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And now the dice are plastic, with obedient dots rather than the tiny handmade “bones” of the 20th century, which had dots that didn’t line up. I spun and paused…a bystander moved for me. As before, if you don’t move immediately, locals move for you. There’s one right way…and everybody knows it.

Today in Turkey the people, like those dots, line up better. There’s a seat for everyone as the dolmus are no longer so dolmus. Fez sales to tourists are way down, but scarf wear by local girls is way up. There’s a rigidity to the chaos and each of my déjà vu moments shows a society that stays the same while enduring great change.

Posted by Rick Steves on October 09, 2007
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I’m in Turkey now. The country just had an election and it swung to the religious right. It’s the holy month of Ramadan and the atmosphere is charged.

Let me share some things I’ve learned about Muslim tradition — apologizing in advance for anything I get wrong because this is always dangerous territory…especially when you try to simplify and inject any playfulness.

(Any Muslim readers are welcome to set me straight, as I am quite certain that I have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God somewhere here. Any Christian threatened by the growth of Islam…please comment only in a constructive spirit of seeking understanding. I am a Christian who can live peacefully with Islam. I’d rather this not be one more battleground on that issue.)

Traditionally, as the sun prepares to rise, an imam stares at his arm. When he can tell a grey hair from a black one, it’s time to call his parish to prayer.

While quality and warble varies, across the land the Arabic words of the call to prayer are exactly the same. The first one of the day comes with an extra line.

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Praying is better than sleeping,
God is great (Allahhhhhh akbar…)
I witness there is no other God but Allah
I witness Mohammad is Allah’s prophet
Come join the prayer
Come to be saved
God is Great...God is great
There is no other God but Allah

My hotel is within earshot of five mosques. They say tiny mosques can’t afford a musician, so the imam himself does the singing — not always top-quality. Big mosques have a trained professional singer — much better. To the non-Muslim ear, it sounds like coyotes howling in a cacophony. My challenge (which I succeed at) is to hear it as a beautiful form of praise that sweeps across the globe like a stadium wave, undulating exactly as fast as the earth turns…five times a day.

As pre-Vatican II Catholicism embraced Latin (I guess for tradition, uniformity and so all could relate and worship together anywhere any time), Islam embraces Arabic. Turks recently experimented by doing the call to prayer in Turkish, but they switched back to the traditional Arabic.

The trained singer is a “Muezzin.” “Ezzin” means prayer. “Mu” before a word in Arabic is like “er” after a word in English — it means “one who does it.” Muezzin.

The Koran says “Abraham was a good submitter (to the will of God).” The word for submitter is “Muslim” derived from “Islam” (submit) with a “mu” (one who). Islam means submit, Mu-Islam (contracted to “Muslim”) is literally one who submits. I followed up asking my friends “how about eat and eater?” They said, “We don’t know Arabic.”

Traveling in Islam, the call to prayer sounds spooky to many Americans. My time in Turkey, with the charming conviviality of neighborhoods in the streets that comes with Ramadan (just as it comes with Christmas where I come from), reminds me how travel takes the fear out of foreign ways.

Traveling here also reminds me how my Dad used to be absolutely distraught by the notion that God and Allah could be the same. I taught our son, Andy (when he was about three years old) to hold out his arms, bob them up and down, and say “Allah, Allah, Allah” after table grace just to freak out his Grandpa.

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Then I took my Dad to Turkey.

Posted by Rick Steves on October 07, 2007
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I have another week or so of travel: filming in Rome for three days (St. Peter video for the Lutheran Church) and six days in Istanbul (updating and fine-tuning our first-edition Istanbul guidebook).

With the Greece tour finished, I said goodbye to our group and to Anne, who flew home. (By the way, I asked Anne if she wanted to share her thoughts on Greece on this blog, as so many of you have requested. She said “No thanks.” She likes her privacy as much as I like to be public…which I find perfectly understandable.)

Speaking of Anne’s privacy, let me tell you about a medical problem she had. She got stung by something in the harsh Mani Peninsula and her hand swelled up worse and worse over three days. At Mystras, we decided she should see a doctor. While the group toured the site, our driver took her to the local clinic, where a fine doctor sized up her problem and fixed her up with the right medicine.

Of course, being in Europe, the visit was covered by the national health care. Our group got talking about “free medical help” in their travels (which is, of course, not free but paid for in high taxes). Many people had happy stories — enjoying fine doctors, quick service and first-class care for no cost.

After seeing Michael Moore’s new movie, Sicko, I’ve been thinking about the beauty of a land where doctors can “care maximize” rather than “profit maximize.” European doctors seem to enjoy a system that allows them to do their work without regard to people’s ability to pay. When it comes to national health care, Michael Moore made Europe look even better than I do.

I’d love to hear any stories about finding (and funding) emergency health care while traveling in Europe. Can you share your experience?

Posted by Rick Steves on October 05, 2007
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I just finished a Rick Steves' Greece tour. I have to admit…it was great. I took it to learn about a country that I was weak on from a scholar (our guide, Colin Clement) and to affirm in my mind the fun and efficiency of a group tour when it’s done right. Many times I marveled at how we accomplished so much so smartly…because of years of experimentation with this route, making friends and contacts along the way and the hard work of our guides.

Just last night, we ate our last supper on a rooftop watching a golden moon rise over the floodlit Acropolis. As groups do on their final dinner together, we reminisced about the tour — and marveled at how fortunate we were to have lived life so fully for the last two weeks. As has been a pattern for the last week or so, I walked home with just the right buzz from the light and happy local wine.

Generally, when I take a Rick Steves tour, I come home with lots of ideas on fine tuning it. Not so with this one. Here’s my general take on the sights:

Athens: Big ugly city, obligatory ancient sights, extremely touristy old quarter (Plaka), fine modern museums — the best in the country, four million people sprawling where no tourist ventures, new immigrant zones with poor yet thriving Black and Asian communities. The joy of Greece is outside of Athens. See the NYC of this culture and scram.

Delphi: A touristy little mountain resort with an evocative setting. A long way to drive for some ancient ruins. But learning about the oracle and being there in the empty cool of the early evening was a highlight.

Dimitsana: The weak stop of the tour, but we needed an overnight just before Olympia that offered a representative look at the rustic interior of the Peloponnese…and this is the best option.

Olympia: Great museum, thunderous temple columns toppled by earthquake — as evocative as anything from ancient times. And you just have to play "on you mark, get set…go” on that original starting block from 776 B.C.

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Kardamili: A humble beach town – with a Bali-in-a-dust-storm charm. Clearly the best base for exploring the desolate Mani Peninsula and a place that works like a stun gun on your momentum. I could stay there for days, just eating well and hanging out.

Mani Peninsula: Stark. If Greece had a Tombstone and an OK Corral, it would be here. The awe-inspiring fortified ghost hill town of Vatheia is vendetta ville — I’ve seen nothing like it. The peninsula in general is so bleak that it’s a challenge for a guide to bring it to life. Our walk through a nondescript town popping into sumptuous old fresco-covered churches was just right.

Gythio: A work-a-day town with little tourism and a hearty charm, a great harborfront with plenty of cheap restaurants and a little restaurant on the backstreets where a gang of aging hippies on the road, the Ouzos, made their mark and immediately retired…never to perform again.

Monemvasia: A Gibraltar-like rock with a Crusader-style stone town at its base — and evocative ruins all across its Masada-like summit — connected by a causeway to the mainland. A breathtaking experience, this is a key stop on any Peloponnesian visit.

Mystras: I’ve been twice and even though it was, for a time, the cultural capital of the Byzantine Empire and very important historically, the sight leaves me exhausted and wondering why am I here. While plenty historic, there’s just not much to see.

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Sparta: A classic example of how a militaristic society leaves nothing for future tourists. Don’t even stop in this horrible place.

Nafplio: My vote for the most charming town in Greece. Plenty of tourism yet elegant and with a unique pride. Its role as the first capital of independent Greece, its position as a handy home base for touring both Mycenae and Epidavros, and its position an easy 2 hour bus ride from Athens makes it a must see on any Greek visit. It has a beach, great restaurants, cool evening scene, and a good balance of local life and tourist convenience.

Mycenae and Epidavros: Mycenae has a fine museum and is unique in that it’s as mysterious to Socrates and Plato as those guys are to us…a thousand years older than the Acropolis and other Golden Age Greek sights. Epidavros has a pretty lousy museum and forgettable ruins, except for its magnificent theater — the best of the ancient world. For that reason alone, this is a must-see sight.

Hydra: Our tour is intentionally not a beach tour. We are a bus tour of the mainland, with the greatest sights of ancient Greece. We wanted to finish with one “island experience” — and this does it perfectly. We left our bus, zipped over from the Peloponnese and after two nights and a free day, zipped into Athens from there. Hydra, so close to Athens, is amazingly laid-back and real with just enough tourism to make it fun and lively. (See previous entry.)

For details on the itinerary (handy even if you’re considering doing the route without us), see the tour section at ricksteves.com.

Posted by Rick Steves on October 04, 2007
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Walking the backstreets of a Greek town, I heard music with a special twang. It sounded like someone was strangling a yodeler. Greeks tap their feet to relatively exotic music that comes with a strong whiff of the Middle East. The 19th-century writer who noted that Greeks can’t dance to European music and vice versa was probably on to something.

In many ways, Greece marks the cultural divide between east and west. And Greece, the only country in the European Union not connected with the rest of the EU, is the only country in the EU with its own distinct script on Euro currency.

Driving into the heart of the Peloponnese peninsula, we passed into Arcadia. Our guide explained, “This was the ultimate boonies in the ancient mind: land of Pan, fauns dancing in glades, Virgil, Ovid and scenes from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night's Dream.”

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History has been hard on Arcadia. One town spelled out 12.13.43 on its hillside — the day all its men were killed by Nazis. Nearby, in the remote town of Dimitsana, men were generally spared from the draft because of their prized ability to make gunpowder — a complex family recipe of ground-up goat droppings, charred twigs and lime.

It’s a rough land with simple wines. A local vintner said there’s no fine $50 bottle of Greek wine. I asked him, “What if you want to spend $30?” He said, “Fine, you can buy three $10 bottles.” You drink Greek wines quickly — whites within a year, reds within two or three. In Greece for wine, I go with the rotgut — retsina (it makes you want to sling a patch over one eye and say “arghh”). But I prefer the good local beer and the cloudy, anise-flavored ouzo.

If a tourist complains about the food, it’s “fish with heads and the same salads every day.” I like fish with heads — squeeze lemon luxuriously all over it and eat everything but the wispy little tail. And the same salad every day reminds me how every day I wish the USA valued taste over looks in its produce. An ethic that I find makes eating feel right is to eat things that are in season and grown locally.

Visiting ancient Olympia is a Peloponnesian pilgrimage for modern tourists. And it was a Mecca of ancient Greece as well. All wanted to come here once in their lifetime. The ancient Olympic Games were more than an athletic fest. They were a tool to develop a Panhellenic identity.

Every four years, leading citizens from all corners would assemble here. Athletes — aristocratic youth — would stay here to train for months, brainwashed without knowing it to be Greeks. There were no losers…except quitters and cheaters. (Drinking animal blood — the Red Bull of the day — was forbidden. There were actually official urine drinkers to test for this ancient equivalent of steroids.)

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The modern games are still all about people coming together. The five rings emblem represents the five continents. (While the USA recognizes seven continents, the rest of the world — which considers the Americas one and Antarctica not one — counts only five.)

Ancient games were men only. Women weren’t allowed in our modern games either until only 1928. In 1936, Hitler’s Nazi Olympic committee designed the first ritual torch lighting — which we enjoy essentially unchanged to this day. In 1936, they ran the torch from Athens to Berlin. On March 24, 2008, the torch will be lit at ancient Olympia and begin its journey all the way to China.

There’s a lot of B.C. stuff here in Greece. Pretty soon B.C. can become D.C. On nameless hills, you’ll pass stony remnants of people from centuries…D.C. Just because something’s B.C. doesn’t mean it’s got to be seen. Be selective in your ancient sightseeing.

Posted by Rick Steves on October 02, 2007
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