West Highland Way - the end

King's House to Fort William

The next morning my shoes were marginally dry, and it promised to be a lovely and dry day. The day promised to be a hike, as I would be climbing the devil's staircase, the highest point on the way at 500 meters.

The first few miles were uneventful, walking along through the moor, looking at the mountain the guys I met the night before were at that moment climbing. The sun was out an I was happy. I kept looking back, and the king's house took a long time to disappear from sight.

And then the way started to climb. Gradually at first, and then it zig zaged up, up and up. I would get to one of the points by telling myself that once I got there I could stop for a minute. Then I would continue on to the next turn. And the next. And the next. As I staggered to the top I saw thegermans making their picnic lunch, and the south africans who were returning from climbing up the ridge on the side to the view point. Since I have this very strong drive, for some reason, to always get to the highest places to get the amazing views even though I amafraid of heights, I started up this bit. A few minutes in though, I decided that I wasn't carrying my pack up. I took out my camera and money, thinking it was too heavy (at 40 pounds) for anyone else to want to carry it.

The non-existent path to the top was extremely boggy and muddy, but there was indeed a fantastic view at the top. Sadly though, it was too cloudy to be able to see Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in Great Brittan. It was my first time using a self timer on a camera, though, which was very exciting.

Back down at the top of the pass, I ate my lunch, yet more cheese and tomato sardine sandwiches, but was forced to walk as I ate it, so that themidgies would leave me alone. Somehow they had managed to get to the highest point on the trail. Horrible creatures. From that point on it was mostly flat and downhill. I walked along the side of a valley, with lots of sheep. It was very green, and there were lots of waterfalls. As the path started to go downhill, it was very rocky, and a bit difficult to walk.

This path eventually came to an old building related to the aluminium works, and the path turned into a gravel road and entered into the woods. With no more rocks to pick my way over, I widened my stride, and went flying down that gravel road that seemed to go on forever. Walked through the woods, and for a bit beside huge pipes that were bringing water into the town ofkinlochleven for use in the aluminium smelting. I also passed some bikers that were making their way up the hill, which made me feel very victorious in having the devil's staircase behind me.

I entered the town, the biggest place I had seen since visiting drymen on my second day, and who did I run into but the germans. I was thinking to go to the grocery store, buy food, and wild camp, but I was so exhausted that I decided to stay in the campsite. The town, and campsite were full of whitewater kayakers. This was the weekend where they were letting water out from the dams on two different rivers, and so the kayakers had turned it into a festival. I once again made more pasta 'n sauce, while the sunset light the entire sky neon pink, and to celebrate being back in civilization, had some cider as well. Sadly, thekayakers were not exhausted from walking, and were not the quietest. The also had some of the most massive tents I've seen in my entire life. Like the harry potter flat tent that could likely sleep 12.

Grumpy after not getting to sleep until after 2, I tried to get up early my last day, knowing that I had 14 miles ahead of me. Fortunatly it wasn't raining, and I packed up my gear, headed back to the grocery store for things I had forgotten, and headed out of the town. It was good to get back to the middle of nowhere. Sadly though, having climbed down into the valley yesterday, almost to sea level, from the 500 meters, meant that I had to now climb back up the other side of the valley.

At first it was through the woods, and then on the flat. I thought it might have actually have been more difficult than that devil's staircase, but I made it. It flattened out, and sometime later I stopped to have my last lunch on the road. Completely sick of sardines, and having been able to visit the store, I had moved on to cheese and salsa sandwiches.

The way was mostly flat for the rest of the first half of the walk. I passed some ruined buildings, walked on the side of another valley, kept passing and being passed by this same couple, trying to keep my feet dry, and scaring sheep. The walk seemed to stretch out forever. But at least it wasn't raining. Then, I got into what I thought were supposed to be forestry plantations, but all of the trees had been newly cut down, and the place looked like a war zone, and more than a bit creepy. I passed the cairn marking a major turning point in thejacobite wars I think, and then came upon a sign telling me that I had only 6.5 miles remaining.

And it started to rain. This was definitely the lowest 6.5 miles of the journey for me. I was quickly wet. I was tired. I was hungry. My shoes were wet. I was walking through a landscape that seemed unfriendly. And I just wanted to be done. I walked through dense forest, across some very high stiles, though more vast tracts of chopped down trees,reminiscent of the larax, through more dense dark and creepy forest, and stopped to eat my last emergency snickers bar.

Then there was a detour with unclear signs. And I ended up on a gravel road
I wasn't sure was right. Then on a paved road, passing theben nevis visitor's center. It was pouring at this point. I didn't think the rain would stop, the road would stop. It was a horribly anti-climactic end to mytrans formative walk. I saw the bridge where I knew it ended, but it took me a moment to spot the sign. As it was raining I couldn't photograph the end, but I did kiss the sign, and almost cried for joy. And then I walked to the center.

Asking a couple for directions, I was guided to the bank street lodge. Outside was a sign that said no vacancies, and as I entered she was just telling someone on the phone that no, they were completely booked. But, miracle of miracles, they had one female spot left in a dorm. The only spot in the whole place. Once again, I was so happy I almost cried. I ran totesco to buy soap, and the woman at the desk lent me a towel for free. It was the most amazing shower, but everything I had was wet and stinky, and I ended up having to wear my shorts with waterproof trousers over them out to find food.

I had the steak pie I had been dreaming about all day, and some belhaven's best ale, almost fell asleep at the table as I waited for the check, and then collapsed into a real bed, with a real blanket, in the complete darkness, able to sleep flamingo style properly for the first time in 9 days.

I did it. On a whim, inspired by wikipedia, I walked over 95 miles in my amazing trainers with only one small blister. I ate 10 candy bars, spent 10 nights in my tent, 6 of them wild camping and 3 in campsites. I had four tins of sardines, and was wet, cold, hot, grumpy,frustrated, exhilarated, overwhelmed, inspired, proud, tiny, powerful, and very happy.

West Highland Way - Rannoch Moor

Tyndrum to King’s House

The next morning I woke up to a stop in the rain. None of my clothes had dried however, and so I put them in the dryer before I left. There is something amazing about clothes right out of a tumble dryer. I guess it’s because I’ve gotten so used to hanging up clothes to dry. On my way out of town I stopped for food at the last market for 28 miles. With three tins of sardines, tuna, dried pasta, cheese, and more chocolate bars I was ready to head out. I also bought some waterproof over trousers.

Tyndrum marks the beginning of the Rannoch moor. By some it might be considered bleak, boggy grass, heather, hills, and little stream cut across the land. I thought it was absolutely beautiful, and kept having to turn around and look in all directions as I walked. As you go over a small hill, the view always changes. It is very empty though. Walking through I had this feeling of complete insignificance, and at the same time of great power. I had already walked over 50 miles, and was carrying everything on my back. I could do anything. And yet, in the cosmic scheme of things, I am tiny. Maybe this feeling was helped by the fact that I’ve been reading Sophie’s World along the way.


From Tyndrum northward, the way mostly follows an old military road, making it much easier walking than the banks of Loch Lomond. The seven mile walk to Bridge of Orchy was one of the easiest sections of the way I think. It was mostly flat, and mostly not raining. I got there much faster than I expected. The first thing you see when you get to Bridge of Orchy is the train station, followed by the town, and last, the bridge. I guess before they built the bridge, everyone had to go miles around, because people weren’t able to ford the river, and building the bridge made the route over the moor much faster. The village is very small and cute, but they are selling the primary school. I wonder where the kids will go to school now.

Just after I left Bridge of Orchy, the weather took a turn for the worse. It’s only two miles to Inveroran, but it seemed as long as the previous seven miles. The path is basically up over a line of hills, and then down the other side. I think the view at the top could have been amazing, but by the time that I got there, I was completely enclosed in fog. I sat at the top, on the cairn, needing a break, but freezing and soaking wet. I think it was sheer will power that got me down to the inn at Inveroran.


Just past the inn is a grassy spot next to a bridge – a free camping spot. When I arrived the Germans from the night before were already there, as was the group with the dogs. Everyone tried to get their tents up as quickly as possible, and then we sat in the wind and rain and cooked dinner. I love my waterproof trousers!! On the other hand, my raincoat had long before soaked through, and wasn’t doing much good. Eating the heaviest things first, I had rice and baked beans.


And then we all went back to the inn to sit in the warm and the dry and drink. The Germans had a plan to try all the whisky on the list. Sarah (the American with the Germans) and I taught them how to play the game bullshit, which was pretty funny. The dog walkers gave their dogs corona. And by the time we left the rain had mostly stopped and our things were drier.

The next morning the rain held off until I got my tent down, but then started off again. I was cold, my raincoat was still wet, and I was grumpy. I was going to do the eight mile hike to king’s house and it was going to rain the whole way and everything was wet, and it was gray.

There was a break in the rain, and I sat down near some trees hoping that they would block some of the wind. No good. By the time I finished my sardine and cheese sandwiches (mmm) I was freezing. Thank goodness for chocolate bars. I averaged one a day on the trail.

But then, as the rain continued, the sun came out behind my back, and I saw the most beautiful and perfect rainbow of my life, just in front of me. And soon it was a double rainbow. And I couldn’t help it. All the grumpiness vanished. And then there was the sunshine on my back. I just wanted to jump up and down and smile.

That rainbow kept me going for the next couple hours. And then in the distance there was another rainbow. And then another. And another. And as I once again got to the top of a pass and started down, I could see my destination in front of me, bathed in sunlight. The king’s house hotel was actually a bit farther on than I thought, and the last twenty minutes of my journey were also accompanied by a rainbow, but this time without the rain. And every time there was a rainbow, I would have to look at it every few minutes, to see how it changed as I walked.

The king’s house is a famous hotel, and is especially popular with climbers. A river goes past the king’s house, and out back, next to the river is free camping. Among clouds of midgies I set up my tent, and then headed into the climbers bar to read my book, drink tea, and charge my phone and camera battery. The chairs inside the bar were absolutely amazing.

Returning to the outside I cooked my oh so exciting dinner of pasta ‘n sauce (dried and all in one packet, perfect for backpacking) mixed with tuna and walked around the whole time to avoid the midgies. Back in the bar I started talking with two guys that were planning to climb one of the nearby mountains the next day. According to them, all of the greatest climbers have been Scottish, including the first guy to climb Everest. They pointed out all the photos on the wall. And the place has a climber’s bar and another bar because climbers apparently have a tendency to get drunk and rowdy. Although that night the bar was extremely quiet.

I visited the other bar for a bit, and met up with the Germans once again. Also spent some time talking to the South Africans I had met up with on the banks of Loch Lomond. Proving once again, that once you see someone on the trail, eventually you see them again. They were very happy to see me in one piece, as they were worried about me picking my way over rocks in the rain that day. I had some amazing bread pudding in custard, returned to the climbers bar for a bit, and then went back out to my tent to stuff paper in my shoes in an attempt to dry them out and then slept.

West Highland Way - Loch Lomond

Balmaha to Tyndrum
I awoke the next morning to a rainbow over Loch Lomond. While I was sitting eating breakfast, Andrew and Scott from the day before passed me. Sitting there I had my first real experience with midgies, horrible little bugs that look like gnats, but swarm and bite. And while the bites don’t itch immediately like mosquito bites do, they do end up itching for days. But worse than the physical pain, is the mental pain of having swarms of insects in your face, flying up your nose and into your eyes.

I spent the entire day walking along the shores of Loch Lomond. Not that it’s right by the shore – there’s a lot of up and down and walking over rocks and such. I had decided that I wasn’t going to stop for lunch until I got to Rowerdennan. Not being the fastest walker, I was passed by many people on the trail. And I stopped a lot to for views of the lake and such.

I got to Rowerdennan after two, and sat down by the lake to eat my lunch. Today’s lunch was refried beans and cheese on pita bread with an apple. I then went into the inn, and had some tea and a scone and ran into Andrew. He had decided that he couldn’t manage to finish the trail because his feet were so bad, and so his girlfriend had come to pick him up. The first case of someone walking to fast and not being able to finish. Made me feel better about being slow.

I left Rowerdennan, and started out on the very wide, gravel road that lead to inversnaid. They never paved it though, and so it’s not possible to drive from Rowerdennan to Inversnaid. If you want to go by car you can drive up the other side, and then take a boat over. Apparently at this point the road splits into a high road and a low road, but I never saw signs for the more difficult and scenic low road, and so stayed on the high road

I saw very few people on the path. There was a family walking the dog, but after that it seemed that I was not on the same schedule as anyone else. One of the loveliest places I passed was a bench, overlooking the lake; with one of the most beautiful inscriptions I can remember seeing. There were also waterfalls along the side of the path every 10 meters or so, and I think that I stopped to look at every one of them.

It was beginning to get dark, and I hadn’t found a good place to camp, so with a burst of energy I continued on the smaller trail after the road bit ended, to find a lovely clearing down by the lake. The first thing I did was to take photos as the sun was setting. But as I started to set up my tent, I was besieged by midgies, and in complete madness I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before, I started pulling things frantically out of my pack, searching desperately for the midgie net I had been lent. I can’t describe the feeling of immense relief once I put the net over my head. Unfortunately I got a huge number of bites on my hands, and on the strip of my lower back between the bottom of my shirt and the top of my trousers.


I had a delicious supper of baked beans and rice, and then called Ian to wish him a happy birthday. My baby brother is now 21 and no longer needs me or anyone else to buy him alcohol. I spent a long time just looking into the darkness toward the lake as the light faded, and then went to sleep.

The next day it took me a couple hours to get to inversnaid, and it was getting to be a bit foggy and a little drizzly. Up until this point though, the weather had been fantastic, especially considering I was in the highlands of Scotland. Inversnaid is a posh hotel, with nothing around it except a nice waterfall. Not one of the more exciting places I’ve been, but I did have a cup of tea and a sandwich and charged my phone and camera battery once again before heading off to inverarnnan.


My guide book told me that the first half of the trail from inversnaid to inverarnnan was the hardest bit on the west highland way, because it involved lots of ups and downs over rocky trail. And just as I set off, it started to rain, making the trail very slippery. I guess I must have been on schedule with everyone else at this point, because I kept getting passed by people and then passing them again. One group in particular were all originally from South Africa, but now lived in many places in the world. They were a bit worried about me.

Halfway through the difficult stretch, which was also amazingly beautiful, I sat down to finally eat my lunch, and as I was sitting there, cursing the midgies, a guy came up to say hi and took off his pack to take a break. His name was Daniel, and he was from Tennessee, and hiking the way by himself as well. In fact, he was planning to walk all the way to Inverness. He waited for me to finish, and we started walking together. We finished the difficult bit, and got to the easy bit. We visited the bothy at Duane, a hut that had been renovated, that was a free place to stay for walkers. You were just supposed to make sure that there was wood there for the next visitors to use in making a fire in the fireplace. When we got there, two Scots were just leaving, having made a fire to cook their lunch on. The end of Loch Lomond is an amazing view. There’s a small island at the end called “Island I Vow” or something like that.


I walked with Daniel all the way to Inverarnan. He’s a very cool guy. Did a degree in sustainable development in Glasgow, and after graduating from a Scottish university, you can have a two year work permit, so he’d been working in Glasgow for a bit over a year. After having three and a half days mostly on my own, it was really nice to have someone to talk with.

He had also been lent equipment, but there was a small part missing from his stove, and so he hadn’t been able to use it. After passing stopping a bit in Inverarnan, visiting the shop to get food for dinner, and having some beer, or in Daniel’s case a half pint of Guinness and a banana, we left the campground. While there, I ran into Matt, a guy who had passed me while I was climbing Conic hill. Funny how half the people you see on the way, you see again.

We decided to camp somewhere further on and less than half an hour later it started to pour. After Daniel ran through a bog, we found a camping spot next to a bridge, by an old wall that was falling down. We had an amazing feast, which included quesadillas, scones, macaroni cheese, baked beans and tea. It was also my first experience with waterproof trousers – Daniel lent me some for sitting on the wet ground. And I have to say, waterproof trousers are an amazing thing! For the first time in a long time the clouds cleared, and with no light pollution, the stars were absolutely fantastic. I think I even saw the Milky Way.

The next day I was up and ready before Daniel, so I headed off, and he caught up with me about an hour later. As he caught up to me I ran into a couple of guys that I must have seen on the trail about five times before. They gave me some coffee and I stopped to chat with them. They had been walking together every year for ten years. Sometimes other people joined in, but they were always part of it. This year they were walking the whole way to celebrate 10 years of walking, and also the 50th birthday of one of the guys.

We walked to the turnoff to crianlarich, where we sat, had lunch, and exchanged contact details before Daniel sped off on his way to Inverness. As I watched him walk out of sight, it started to rain, and rained and rained. I was soaked by the time I got to Tyndrum. The walk wasn’t very exciting, but did go past the site of an old lead crushing plant, a site where to this day nothing grows from the poison that was leeched into the soil.


I was thinking to walk on past Tyndrum, but as I got to the campsite I was so cold and so wet that I stopped. I walked into the common cooking hut, to find lots of wet people trying to get warm, and we all instantly bonded. And, inside, I found Matt for the third time. Something about the way brings you back to the same people over and over.

I borrowed shampoo, had an amazing shower, and then discovered that I had been using my stove wrong for the past days. I played Uno with a group of Germans with one American woman, had some cider, and enjoyed being surrounded by a group of people all evening.

West Higland Way - the beginning

Glasgow to Balmaha

I left Edinburgh a bit late, and arrived in Glasgow about 6. My plan - to wander around and find a hostel, dump my stuff and then explore the city. In my experience there is usually at least one hostel very close to the train or bus station, and I was going to find it. After wandering for two hours, I gave up and asked, and was directed to the Euro Hostel. The Euro Hostel as it turns out, is the typical hostel for capital hopping americans, and all the dorms were full. Not wanting to pay 20 pounds for a place to sleep I decided to head for Milgavnie, where the way officially begins.

At Queen Street station, who should I run into but Karen, a friend from the Fringe. It's a small world to be running into the only person you know in a city at the train station. She offered her floor, but said that it was perhaps better to just camp at the beginning of the way. In scotland there are no laws of trespass, so unless you are damaging a farmer's crops, you can basically camp anywhere.

And so I got on the train to Milgavnie. At 9pm on a Thursday night the town was complely dead, but I could tell that it was pretty posh. The first sign for the way was directly outside the train station, so it was pretty easy to find my way to the beginning. It was dark by this time, but the beginning of the way was on a paved path with street lights, so I set off. A bit later I found the community center for the area, and went inside to ask the old scottish men inside for camping advice. They told me if I went a little further on I would get to a place where it flattened out. And so I walked until where the street lights ended in a park, walked just outside the range of the light, and set up my green tent for the first time, in the dark. Thank goodness for head torches.

The tent isn't very difficult to set up. The poles are color coordinated, and have little tabs on the tent so you put the right pole in the right place. Except some designer wanted it to be pretty, and so there is a purple pole, and then two blue poles, in slightly different shades. Why one of these blue poles couldn't have been neon yellow, or something a bit different I don't know. This design flaw aside, the tent is well engineered for scottish weather. You put up the rain fly first, and then clip the inner tent to it. So if it's pouring you get the rain proof part up first. There's a sort of porch as well, over a third of the tent actually, so that you can stick your pack there and do your cooking, and everything will stay dry. As a two person tent though, it's a bit large for one person.

Anyways, it wasn't raining, and i had no problems in my camping, except being woken up by curious dogs in the morning. I had done my food shopping the night before in Glasgow, but needed an adaptor so I would be able to charge my camera along the way, and so headed back into town. And then when I went to take my first photos, the battery died. So I ended up spending a couple hours reading in a coffee shop while charging my camera and phone. Only at around noon did I get the photos of the beginning monument and set off on my way once more.

Turns out it was a good thing that I went back into town, because I had veered off the way a bit the night before. The beginning of the way is in several parks. As it moves out of the glasgow area, it goes through lots of farmland. This involves opening lots of gates and then closing them again. Lots of cows, sheep, and these overly hairy cows with very long horns. The path was easy, and mostly flat, but getting used to my 40 pound pack took a bit of adjusting. Much of the path was actually an old abandoned railroad. I passed a distillery, and was given lots of advice by various old scottish men.

At some point the trail led out to a paved road. I kept walking, until dusk, when I passed the first campsite, near the village of Drymen. I camped near two belgian girls that I was to see again and again on the trail, as well as two guys that had passed me not once but twice on the trail that day. I had my first go at using the stove, made some pasta and sauce, and fell asleep.

Still trying to adjust from my festival schedule of going to sleep at 5am, I didn't manage to get up until well after 8, to an empty campsite. I discovered the glorious invention of peanut butter on hobnobs, and then set off. I detoured into Drymen, to have a look at the place, as I was told it would be another 70 miles before I saw a town of that size again.

Walking through the woods outside Drymen I met some guys from Edinburgh - Andrew and Scott. Andrew was already walking funny from blisters, and this was their first day. They were using the travel lite service, which transports your bags along the way for you, and so were walking much faster than I was. I walked with them for an hour or so, until the beginning of conic hill, when I decided that I needed some lunch, and had a picnic.

Conic hill is the first major hill of the way, and the path seemed to be doubling as a small stream. Going up was slow, the top was misty, and going down was even slower. A heavy pack isn't so bad going up, but going down, it really messed up my center of balance, making it much easier to fall. So I inched my way down this hill, until I got to some rock stairs that had been built in.

Balmaha is a tiny place, the center of which seems to be the oak tree in, a hotel, returaunt, and bar with a tiny shop next door. It's also the first point on the way which is on Loch Lomond. I met up with Andrew and Scott again, as well as the guys from the night before to have a pint before walking a bit out of the village to camp on a hill above the loch, complete with beautiful sunset.

leaving Edinburgh

On Sunday I watched the most amazing fireworks I have ever seen, set to music of the Scottish Chamber Orchestra playing in Princes Street Gardens, compmlete with a firworks waterfall over the side of castle rock. It was celebrating the end of the international theater festival, or really, the people of Edinburgh having their city to themselves again.

After cleaning of flats, and helping to organize stores, I finally left C Venues housing tuesday morning, and still with no plan, went to stay with Richard the first. Richard the first, because he was the first richard that I met in my travels in 2005. The room that was neon pink is now white, and the hall is being redecorated, but other than that his flat remains close to the same. I mentioned that I wanted to do some camping, and he got out a map, and started suggesting places. He suggested Inverie, the most remote pub in scotland, and while the internet provided little information on how to walk there, wikipedia led me to fort williams, and then to the west highland way. And, at that moment, I decided I would walk it.

Richard kindly provided me with a pack, tent, sleeping bag, sleeping pad and compass, and last night took me to meet his friends Jim and Sally. Jim has climed all the Munros (mountains) of scotland, and the two of them lent me a map, head torch, and midgie net, as well as giving me lots and lots of advice. This was followed by the best macaroni and cheese ever (with peas, broccoli, capers and olives), cider, and conversation until 2am.

Today I take the bus to Glasgow, and tomorrow morning I will begin this 95 mile, 7 day walk through the highlands of scotland. Hopefully I'll get some sunny days, and it will be my first opportunity to really use this new camera I got before leaving the US.

taking the long way round

Edinburgh, Scotland

I'm back in Edinburgh after three and a half years. The first time I was here was only a few weeks after I started this blog back in 2005 for my six months of life changing travel, that also seem to have gotten me addicted to travel. I've just spent the last six weeks at the Edinbugh Fringe working for C Venues. I performed in a show called "Driving Helicopter Style Three-Quarters of the Way to the Moon" which was an absolutely amazing experience. I spent the rest of the time volunteering as a senior swing tech, working four days a week outside in a place known as the urban garden, and two days a week inside in a more traditional theater space.

We created 17 theater spaces in a week and a half, one of the most amazing experiences of my life so far. At this point I don't feel as if I can put into words all that has happened in the six weeks. I can say that I got very little sleep, loved everyone I worked with, now have blue hair, and have quit my teaching job.

I am once again starting september with no idea of what the next year holds. Perhaps I will return to Turkey to teach private lessons. Perhaps I will continue with theater. Perhaps... Although a bit scary, I'm excited to once again be steping out into the unknown, in some senses homeless, in some senses with more homes than I could count on both my hands, with belongings on three continents, ready to continue taking the long way round.

And now that the festival is over, I will try to post more often about where I am and what I'm doing.

And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile

And you may ask yourself, how did I get here?

I am now undertaking the serious task of being a tourist in my own town. It helps that I've been away for a year.

Weirdest things so far
*Drinking fountains, with water you can drink out of
*You can drink the tap water
*Dollars are bills, not coins
*Free refills
*Cars that stay in their lanes
*Cars that stop for pedestrians
*Driving for the first time in a year
*Grocery stores
*Even small children speak English
*No one cares about football, of the soccer variety

Highlights
*Burrito with pork! and guacamole
*Sushi
*Cheese, cheese and more cheese
*Cheese grits
*Carrboro farmers market with delicious cheese
*Contra dancing
*Tukey's victory over Croatia
*Seeing my friend's baby

so what happens now?

Unlike a tall tale, in this story the moral goes first. The third time’s the charm. Double checking can get you into trouble. Always triple check!!!

Because when I looked at that piece of paper for the third time I saw that the arrival time in Munich was 9:30, and that my flight was actually departing in five minutes. Not thinking, I ran to the check in desk to ask what I could do. Unfortunately, planes are not trains that you can hop onto one minute before they depart (and I have done that). And because my ticket was a frequent flyer ticket, using three different airlines to get home this was not going to be easy. That and the fact that I had not slept and had not eaten anything in a long time. After Turkish Airlines was very unhelpful I burst into tears, called mom and William, and then pulled myself together. The Lufthansa people were even more unhelpful than Turkish Airlines, refusing even to open my itinerary on the computer.

And so I found a pay phone, and for the first time used that pay phone card I had bought so very long ago. After calling Ian, I spent a long time on the phone with USAirways. Yes they could get me home eventually, but I would have to pay a change fee, and they would also have to redo my flights to Scotland. What stupidness! I was cancelling, but then they couldn’t rebook me on the same flights. And so now I fly into and out of DC.

Luckily, Liz is still with her family in Manassas, and she is going to pick me up at the airport. Unluckily, I had to pay another $130, and I was going to need to be at the airport the next morning at 4:30. As William said, I guess I really wasn’t ready to leave the airport. After making my plans I went in search of food. On the down side I couldn’t get anything to eat for an hour. On the bright side the place had free wireless internet.

I decided that I was staying in the airport, because it would have been too hard to get back the next morning, and wrote something to that extent on facebook. And so later a worried Collette called me, and I reassured her I was fine, although feeling more stupid than I thought possible.

Around 5, my friend Katie called me. She had also been on facebook. I live right next to the airport she said, and I have the car today, I can come get you. Bored and exhausted, I said yes, and by 6 I was in a place with a bed, a TV, a friend, a cat, and real food. We talked, watched phantom of the opera, had soup and dolma, and I slept. Sitting now in the Munich airport, I have many many miles to go. And likely won’t even be home tonight, as the drive from DC takes 4 or 5 hours. But I do feel like I am ready to go home now, and incredibly lucky to have been taken in for the night. And, after my friend Amy called me worried last night, I have to say that facebook is incredibly pervasive, and well, it can have a positive effect once in a while.

But always triple check!!!

A moment of unbelievable stupidness

I’m not sure where to start, where the craziness of the last day began. I think I could put it down to the fact I was sick for the entire month of May. The upside – I learned the word for tonsil. Perhaps because I got too tied up doing both the set and the lights for a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat. And then after that was over got food poisoning. All three of them resulted in me not seeing anyone for over a month, including my mom and William who got there in the middle of all the craziness.

And so the two weeks of June before I was to leave were absolutely crazy. I tried to see everyone, and mostly succeeded. I spent the weekend in Saray at my friend Huma’s family’s summer house, near the black sea in the European bit of Turkey. We fit 14 of us into the house, grilled a lot of chicken, some of which was a bit too pink to be eaten, went swimming, watched as the neighbor’s house caught on fire and people frantically ran around waiting for the fire department to come, and generally had a fantastic time breathing village air and doing nothing.

When I got back on Monday my couchsurfing friend Tom started staying with me. He stayed with me the first time on his way to Iran to hang out and learn Persian, and now they had told him he could no longer renew his original visa, so he would have to leave the country to get a new one. Told the easiest place to get a visa was Istanbul, he took a 48 hour bus, only to find out it was going to take much longer than he thought. And so he was staying with me again. My friend Cat was about to leave for the states, and so the three of us spent most of three days together, walking, attempting to not die while biking on the islands, and eating/drinking.

My German roommates left Thursday night for two weeks on the black sea coast. I had to say goodbye to Cat on Thursday as well, and then Tom took the train to Bulgaria Thursday night. I had very little time to feel lonely however, as Friday I went with mom, William and the students along the golden horn to Eyup, and was then taken out to a wonderful dinner. I’ll spare you the details. And somewhere in there I finished the school year, playing lots of Taboo, Jeopardy, and giving away American candy to most of my kids, who thought that was the greatest thing ever.

Saturday was frantic shopping at the bazaar, saying goodbye until September to friends there, trying to spend as much time with mom and William, and having another wonderful dinner, this time in Tunel. I feel like I am making up for all the parents weekends I never really had in University since I was living in the same town as my family.

Mom and William left early Sunday morning, and I went to the Moda Cay Bahcesi with my roommates to eat borek, drink tea, and watch the view, which, this morning, included dolphins. In good brunch form we stayed two and a half hours, and then I ran off to return my Joseph CD to Eric, the fellow Asian side person of my show, who gave me rides, advice, and lots of help, and then to Taksim to see Joanna, who was in the US, married her Turkish fiancée, and then, a week into their honey moon, decided that they should not move back to Turkey, but should stay in the US. And so she was back to get the cat. Although she did mention that if McCain were to win, they might give up on the green card for the moment and move back to Turkey. At 6 I was back on my way to the Asian side.

I got to the house to find that Ulas and Orcun had gone off to find our kittens. Half an hour later they came back with one of them, saying that next weekend they would get the other. I guess that kittens hadn’t wanted to be caught, and had been running away. The one they brought was orange and white, terrified, adorable, and a very good diversion from beginning to pack. Already feeling like I didn’t want to leave Istanbul, this just made it harder.

And then it was time for football in Bostanci at 9:45. Turkey was playing the Czech Republic, and they were tied in the group. The winner of this game got to advance, and if the game was a tie, it would go to a shoot out. Tension was high, and people got increasingly frustrated as the Czech goal keeper, who we dubbed bumblebee, kept saving all of the attempts that Turkey kicked his way. Sixty minutes in and the score was 0-2 Czech Republic. And then Turkey scored, and again, and again. And then the goalkeeper got red carded for hitting a guy in the head, and one of the regular players had to become the goalie, because all substitutions were used up. But there was not enough time left for the Czech Republic to take advantage of the situation, and Turkey won. And I won – I had predicted the score to be 3-2, and won an Efes Pilsen, Turkish team shirt. After the first three games, everyone I was with had a t-shirt, and the guys at the bar just loved all these foreign women who were so into football, that they took photos with us.

Traffic was absolutely insane, people hanging out of cars, sitting on cars, standing on cars, running down the street, and all of them were waving Turkish flags, even the covered woman who broke off a tree branch to make a pole for her flag. So it was that returning at 1, playing with the kitten until 2, I began to pack at 2. That and wait for my laundry to finish drying. I was not just packing my things for the summer, but packing up everything else in my room to leave in a corner, as someone else will be living in my room for the summer.

On double checking my ticket a few days ago, I realized that my flight was not at 7, but at 9:30, and so was able to take public transport to the airport. I left at 6, got a taksi to the iskele, took the fast sea bus across the Sea of Marmara, and then the airport bus from there. After going through security, I opened my itinerary for that third look and took off running.

My first fight in Turkish

The next day I enjoyed a shower in a shower with an actual bathtub (in my house you shower onto the floor), and then we had a lovely breakfast in the garden. Afterwards we took the dolmuş back to Denizli. The first thing to do was to attempt to cancel our train tickets and get bus tickets instead.

So we went to the ticket office in the train station. We went to the woman and explained that we wanted to cancel our tickets. It said on the back of the ticket that with last than 24 hours notice we would be penalized 20% of the fare, but would get the rest back. We gave her our tickets, and my card. But she wanted a recipt. I said I didn't have one, but I had the tickets and the card and your trains are always 4 hours late but you haven't changed the schedule and you need to give us our money back. After calling in her supervisor, she said if I got a copy of my passport she would give us the money back.

So we walked accross the street to the bus station, where we bought tickets back to Istanbul, and, after asking them for a camera, which Cat corrected by asking for a photocopy machine, I got a photocopy of my passport. Back at the train station the woman got out a binder, wrote this long thing on the back of my passport photocopy, and then tried to run my card. After one try, she decided it didn't work because it was only a bank card, not an actual turkish credit card with a chip in it. To fully explain herself she got out her credit card with chip to show us. We explained that we had bought the tickets with my card, and if their machine wouldn't put the money back on it it was their fault. She said it was too bad. No she could not give us cash.

By this point we were really mad. We went outside the office, and then went back in to ask her if she could put the money on her card because she had one and give us cash. No she said, that is forbidden. But if we found someone else with a card she could put it on their card and they could give us cash. So we walked out and started to ask. At the station cafe they sent us accross the street to a bakkal. At the bakkal they gave us a funny look and sent us to a lokanta. At the lokanta we got a funnier look and they sent us to another lokanta. At this lokanta the guy actually understood what we wanted, and took out his wallet to show us that his card was the same as mine, without chip. After asking one more time we realized that this was not Istanbul, most people didn't have credit cards, and if they did they were not going to give them to a couple of foreign girls. We went back, determined to occupy her office until she gave us the money. We called some people to get advice and went back in

To find that the shift had changed. We gave the tickets, my card, and the passport copy with letter to the new guy behind the counter. He tried to run my card, it wouldn't work. He called in his new supervisor, who ran Cat's american credit card through until it worked. Easy. No problem. It was possible all the time.

After winning our fight, we felt tired but victorious. And we had the problem of what to do with 10 hours in Denizli. Conclusion - there is nothing in Denizli. We at some doner, walked around with all our stuff, wasted an hour and a half in the internet cafe, sat for two hours in a pastane after eating not so good profiterol, found the cool market area after it was entirely closed, and then finally walked to the place with the famous Denizli roosters. When we got there there was only a statue of a rooster and it was pouring. We ate some food, sat in the place as long as possible, and then returned to the bus station for our overnight bus.

Arriving in the morning, I changed in the teacher's bathroom, ready to start my monday morning after not sleeping on the bus.

Pamukkale

Deciding that we had been in Istanbul for too long without getting out, and that we needed to be tourists for a bit, my friend Cat and I decided we needed some K/Catherine Zamanı - K/Catherine time, and so we headed off for Denizli and Pamukkale on the 5:30 train Friday evening. I had bought food at the deli, Cat had brought a bunch of American junk food her mom had sent over, and we were set to go. Two hours into the train ride, a couple of guys got on. One was a naval officer, the other a student of geology. From the beginning the naval officer, ufuk, monopolized the conversation, and likely due to some of the weirdness involving heirarcy in Turkey, we heard very little from the student, Uğur, during the trip, although he did often try to feed us.

I fell asleep early and was expecting to be woken up a bit before 9 as we were entering Denizli. I was woken up at 9, but it was only by Ufuk coming back into the compartment, and then later by the conductor wanting his sheets back. It was only just before noon, three and a half hours late, that we finally arrived in Denizli. Not thinking about the ride back, we just wanted to get to Pamukkale. On our way into the dolmuş we were harassed by two different guys, and feared for the worst. When we arrived in the village below Pamukkale (which means cotton castle) however, it was dead. Almost no life. The restaurants were all completely empty, and as it was just past noon, I had expected them to be full of people eating.

We walked around, very hungry and falling apart, before getting some lahmacun at the recommendation of a guy who seemed nice and was running a sort of tea garden that had no food. The lahmacun was good, and it made both of us less grumpy. While sitting there, we looked in the guide book and decided on a place to stay. After asking directions from a couple of old guys, we were met halfway down the road by a guy on a scooter from the venus hotel. They must have called him, although we were perfectly capable of getting their on our own. The place was a large pink house with balconies, a great garden, and adorable rooms, and so we decided to stay.

Emptying our backpacks slightly, we returned back to the enterance of pamukkale. We walked up a sort of gravel road for a bit, and then reached a sign instructing us to take off our shoes. So now the list of places you may not where shoes in Turkey is Mosques, houses, and Pamukkale. Pamukkale was formed by lots of hot calcium loaded water ran accross the hill, and as the water cooled the calcuim fell out and coated the rocks. It created lots of pools called trasterverines, which are amazing. They used to be full of water, and the place used to be even more white, but with a huge boom of tourism in the 80s and 90s, much was destroyed. Now they have taken sharp measures to try to protect the area, including making people take off their shoes. We we walked up the hill, making little ouch noises as we stepped on tiny ridges of calcium. At the top it was much more red, hopefully from bacteria or algae. At the top were also hoards of tourists from tour groups. Most of them are brought in to the north entrance, so that they do not walk up the hill. At the top we sat down by some running water, and stuck our feet in. It's warm and full of calcium and supposed to be healing.

Pamukkale is not a new formation. The romans also had the opinion that the waters were healing, and so they built a city at the top of the hill. The city is named Heropolis, and the ruins there are amazingly well preserved. My favorite bit was the theater. It's a huge amphitheater that is mostly intact.
Unfortunately, they did some restoration work, and now you cannot get to the stage. I had heard that the acoustics were amazing, and really wanted someone to be standing on the stage saying things, to see if I could hear them. It would be really amazing to put on a roman play there.

In addition to the theater was the main road, a holy pool, with the remnants of columns that is now full of swimming germans and russians, a temple of apollo, and a spring that lets out poisonous gasses. There is also a very impressive cemetery. I guess not all the people who came to the city were cured. Some of the tombs were on the white calcium pamukkale. The poppies were in full bloom, and I am positive that Cat got tired of me saying, so pretty, çok güzel. Yes, I know there are many other adjectives I could have used.

On our way back to the village, the place was much more quiet, as most of the tourist groups had gone home. It also got cold as the sun started to go down. We sat for maybe a half an hour with our feet in the warm water, until an official looking guy took out the dam, and the water slowed to a trickle. There was also a policeman with a whistle and a big stick that was attempting to keep people in a certain area, and coming after them if they passed the line or if they wore their shoes.

The bad part of having our feet in warm water that long was that they were much more sensitive to all the ridges and gravel on the way back down. But the sun was setting, and it was spectacular. By the end we were both wearing our coats, but had our pants rolled up and were carrying our shoes. Against the background of white it was pretty funny - like being barefooted in the snow.

We returned, exhausted, and a bit sunburned to the hotel for dinner. The food was fantastic! The best mercimek çorbasi ever, salad, a plate of different vegetables, and then kebab. At the end I thought I was never going to get up. Cat also befriended a dog named fındık (hazlenut). She was small and black, while the large white dog was named Çilek (strawberry). We ate sitting at a table in the garden.

Intending to just go up and watch TV and sleep, we got distracted talking to the guy who ran the hotel. He convinced us to stay for tea, and told us that he had had 400 tourist girls, but was now engaged so we didn't have to worry about him. However, his brother was there, who had studied Ottoman at university and had never been with a tourist girl, and had I had a Turkish boyfriend yet. That should have tipped us off, but we stayed, had instant pomegranate tea, and the cousin showed up. The brother's name was Yusef, the cousin Bekir.

We sat in the main room, discussing university, the various merits and disadvantages of the american and turkish university entrance system, and the system once you enter university, basketball, football, being a teacher, etc, and then they suggested that we go see the lake and pamukkale light up at night. Cat and I wanted to see it, and put our stuff upstairs, giving them time to discuss. They concluded that it was far to walk, and therefore they should take us on the motorscooters. And now I am afraid I have also gotten Cat addicted to motorcycles/scooters.

Anyways, the seemed to have thought it was a date. The whole thing was very amusing, and good turkish practice. Yusef, the guy who picked me, told me I was cute and asked what I thought about him. I told him I had not decided, which got a laugh. And then we turned down an offer to go to the disco and went to sleep.

Adventures in Art

I feel as though ever since I got to Istanbul I have been surrounded by photographers. There are of course my two roommates, but I we have also had numerous guests. Charlie is a photographer, as is Filip. Orçun's friend, another photographer is currently staying with us.

Ingo, in particular, has really helped me to expand my idea of art, and of beauty. He takes objects most would consider trash, and sees the beauty in them. Plastic on a building being restored, trash on the beach, wrappers tied to a tree for wishes, a dirty dish rag, all of it can be beautiful if looked at through Ingo's eyes.

I have watched him take numerous photos, but two of his photos have involved more adventure than the others. The first was nearly two weeks ago. I somehow ended up with a four day weekend, and so we spent Friday exploring Üsküdar. Mostly this just involved walking and walking. We visited an old abandoned mosque, and found the theater. Ingo had mentioned that he wanted some motor oil for a photograph he was working on, and as we were walking we passed a car shop. So I decided I would just go in and ask.

When we walked in the man in charge was on the phone but he motioned us to sit. I think he was a bit surprised when I chose the chair closest to his desk, instead of letting my guy take it. When he got off the phone I started my question, the same way I have started many requests - Thıs is a really weird question, but do you have some motor oil we could have. Not really knowing the word for motor oil, just the word for oil I managed to convey what we wanted. I explained right away that Ingo wanted to use it for a photograph because oil looks so colorful when you put it on water. Although I am sure they were thinking the whole thing was highly amusing, they were polite enough to agree with me, and a short while later a guy came back with some slightly used motor oil in a plastic water bottle.

Then we were offered tea. The only thing was apparently the boss man didn't realize that they were out of tea when he offered. So we sat and I tried to converse while we waited. I remember discussing cars. They all agreed that Mercedes, or just German cars in general were the best cars. Of course we discussed the weather. Football. What I was doing in Istanbul. How all Turks want to go to the US but here is a weird american girl that came to Istanbul to work. When we were just about to go the tea was ready, and the boss man sent out one of the other guys to buy some biscuits. So there I was, surrounded by guys, drinking tea and eating biscuits in a car repair shop with half a bottle of free motor oil in Ingo's backpack that they would not take any money for. Ingo has finished the photograph now. Always better to have a story to go with the photograph. And I am sure we provided the amusement for the week.

Adventure in art number two. This weekend Ingo and I went to the first of the prince's islands - Kinaliada - which means Island with Henna, perhaps named because of the red sandstone that they mine from the island. The island is much different from the other islands. The others are covered in pine forest, but this one is covered in very dense short vegetation - mostly bushes. Perhaps it burned, perhaps it is due to the stone, the wind, I am not really sure. We set out with my backpack full of picnic food, Ingo's full of his camera, and walked. Two hours and half of the island later, I decided we had found the picnic spot and I was not going further until I had eaten. Ingo had to go look around the corner, but when he spotted some plastic blowing in the wind decided that this could be a good picnic spot, and then he could take a photo. The spot was beautiful - a view of marmara and not a house in sight. Well, unless you looked around the corner to see the sprawl of Istanbul.

The food was fantastic, better because it was eaten outside with a view. I think picnics definitely make my top 10 list of favorite things, perhaps they are even in the top five. So food finished, I looked at the view and Ingo started the business of photography. It was only when I saw him pick up the object that he was photographing that I told him he needed to photograph it in the air - not on the ground. It was a tree branch, sort of resembling a harp, that had gotten tangled in white plastic. As I held it and looked up it felt very might like I was at a wedding and holding a veil in the air. Before, all I would have seen was old dirty plastic. Ingo tried to photograph it, but concluded the spot was not right.

So we walked down the hill we had climbed before I declared a halt for the picnic, and then started scrambling up this slope that was covered in medium sized rocks (not very small rocks) It was sort of like the place was just waiting for an avalanche. Up we went, climbing over purple rocks, red rocks, striped rocks, rocks with lichen. But that spot wasn't good either and so we left the backpacks and went all the way to where some short trees were growing. Ingo went first and I followed with the veil and tree branch harp. At one point Ingo yelled my name and I looked up to have a rock tumble past where my head had been a second before to instead hit my food before thundering on.

Ingo put his object in a tree and I sat there and kept the plastic uncaught. Occasionally Ingo would move to get a better angle, and every time he did, I found a small avalanche go past me. The worst of it whacked me in the elbow. But neither I, nor Ingo, nor the camera tumbled down the hill, although we all tried at one point. Sitting perched on the hill, defying gravity, the plastic looked amazing against the blue sky, water and the trees. A police car drove past on the road below, saw us and stopped. One can only guess what was going through their heads. They waited a while, and then we breathed a sigh of relief when they drove on again.

Inching my way back down on my butt, I thought I might be crazy. But turning around and looking back, the plastic blowing in the tree still looked beautiful.