gelato...yes now for three days straight.....cones upon cones.....chocolato....tirimasu.. got to get a hold of myself....a little grip. it always looks more then it is.....inviting. piled up behind the glass windows. like mountains with little pinetrees in the distance.....a little snow on top.
cones stacked nicely and aside. towering over. leaning in just a way to make the angle inviting perfectly in reach of the hand. for a few days i wander around florence hoping to get my bearings again. beautiful bikes everywhere. spokes turning.......agressive riders make there way...off like famous statues....excited children. play some cards with three french kids on the street. drinking white wine..... a comedian captivates a growing audience in the ditance. hobbles with his tophat. has a whistle........hundreds of people laugh and cheer..... its easy to watch the streets grow endless. like a tiny labrinth...elastic and anxious. stretching off to the distant river. close to the crumbling buildings and towering squares.

then to the coast and hiking the hills. find a beach all to myself. sleeping with the ants and the sound of waves petruding the rocky cliffs. seagulls form in the morning. grape vines stretch out around my little nest. creates a little space..feeling quiet. climb into the hills and the tiny cities spread throughout. jumping from piers into the bracing......wobbling sea. the salt fills my nostrals. the air is thin and bouyant...the bottom is endless and blue. the sun setting behind fading mountains. climb to the top to watch it wash off into the distance. breakfast of yogart and granola.

off then to the tuscan hills. rolling out to the distant peaks and densly fit orchards. now making a circle. ferrera is full of streets and music. today an elderly man plays a plastic toy piano designed for children. very serious his face. his teal ancient bicycle resting closely behind him. free camping fifteen minute walk. i meet some gypsys from the north. one knots me a bracelet for my wrist. the culture of the city and many surrounding....so far...... possibly pieces of the whole country..... peek from every corner. around every turn. skulla and mr. green play crazy ballads with their little green circle of astro turf. bearded faces, tattered hats and repressed dance moves for the sake of the music. mr. green plays two empty tin cans with two mallets while juggling. skulla sings with his hands strectched out across the weathered wood and worn tingy stringed guitar. they seem to miss the gathering crowd. eyes closed and the songs rush by with momentum like a train.....the hills passing and the window opened and ones head held out the window like a dogs excited tongue lazily challenging the breeze.

the man in the internet cafe keeps spraying bubblegum scented airfreshener. ....somehow it makes me hungry for kebab. kebab is cheap. just around the corner. the owner says squirrel like squirtle.

In the morning. A little sleepy eyed but my feet easily swayed into walking forward again. To find the train and then the airport. To then fly from the city of Athens onto Italy. Walking from sidewalk to sidewalk. Managing between parked cars and minor constructions along the way. Tiny, thin, hungry kittens darting in and out of their little hiding spaces. Looking for the morning feast. I try and pretend what it would be like….adds a little bounce in my step….ah the life of stray kittens…….but for me….. Just searching for a cold bottle of water. I luckily come upon one of those great hole in the wall grocery stores with fresh delicious produce and children hoping and skipping around and around on the sidewalk out front. With many smiles and curious laughs. You can tell the whole family is here.

I have this feeling. These people they know what exactly it is that they do. This is there job and their life. I mean sometimes more precise then this….sometimes more vague to say the least….but for me…..this is them here as of now doing what they do. Their family and their future. All the more easily with smiles it seems and children playing games….singing songs.

After acquiring my bottle of water and the regret for not buying everything they had. I keep walking with the morning sun to my back distinguishing the outline of each crease and fold and strap holding together the nylon casing of my pack. I pass a large picture window with the lights off from the inside and the door secured with a gate of metal bars passing vertically over the entryway. The dim interior allows me to distinguish the reflection…… something in immense clarity….and my expression….. with the large cumbersome pack following closely behind… the sun dropping down like a translucent vale covering not only the bag but the whole concept of it all in relaxed and perpetual motion . I thought to myself: “where is it that one makes sense from all these feelings of purpose and working and living? What is it that makes me so intent on lugging this bag around and managing to keep some kind of traveling pace? From here to there. Doing this and that….how do you choose and is it best to think of it all at random? Why is it not me managing this tiny grocery in Athens?”

Things sort of came rushing at me in new perspective…..feeling content….feeling both lazily in transit but as potentially fitting no matter what may be the case ahead. And I thought this could maybe be my job for the time. Possibly what I was searching for….watching new cultures and finding new places….trying to identify in ways that i'm use to and ways that I am not…..though being ultimately present throughout. To understand these feelings of continuation and detachment. stillness and attachment......To understand the meaning of home. While being both distant and isolated upon cultures while digging beneath the rubble of my own concepts of home to see the relevance. The potential meaning as something both foreign and nostalgic.

During this instance…… this instance then I considered this: The relevance became overwhelmingly present that purely this act of being here. Being nobody maybe. Or somebody. But just my presence alone. Carrying these things with me that I consider my only possessions for the time being. The tools and necessities to find only partial comfort and wellbeing…. Walking from one place to the next. No will or jadedness to move on or return. That moment. Maybe it could last for longer then it seemed. Maybe not.

though now to be in Florence it is both very different and possibly the same. And to me that moment has managed itself to continue. It feels all too natural to be here. In Athens I had a glance for a moment…..but now it seems to be more vivid and relaxed. I guess I get to lay my pack down for a period of time. Can walk around more easily not wondering what the next place will be like when I leave or hopefuly soon where i will sleep. I’m not sure if its nostalgia or something i've carried with me from Athens and from turkey. From Hungary and the Czech Republic. But somehow the relevance is here. Somehow all those people and places and stories and Speedos make more sense. (And yes… I am still searching for the European chest hair! I tell you it never seizes to amaze me) These all fitting into a conglomerate of things. They all fit into here and into Michigan. And maybe all the other places i’ve been and experienced.

Though somehow it feels much more integral to be merely witnessing. Somehow while this period of travel being much lighter around the feet. Maybe it just takes a little time to break from our old patterns and routines. Like driving from Kalamazoo to Lake Michigan and picking blueberries along the way. Sometimes just a little break can seem much longer when you return. And sometimes the opposite.

walking and walking in the streets finding overturned stray cats lying on their back waiting for the sun to slow down.

hoping to get lost. but alas another vendor selling cheap imitation belts and watches. another ice cream parlor with glassy stares and resting limbs. the tranparent surface of post cards and plastic rotating racks hanging expensive jewelry.

another solemn asian fellow sitting on the curb throwing a vegetable shaped jelly substance that upon impacting the mat of cardboard spread out near his knees turns into a slimey puddle while enabling the sound of cursplat to resonate softly off the stone walls of the buildings nearby. then reforms itself into the original shape that it held just seconds ago bracing the palm of his hand. wishing to be sold but his ambition is linguiring no where beyond the act of cursplat after cursplat....cursplat splat.....cursplat. i wonder how he made it this far with his little toys. i probably saw him on twenty different corners today. the same routine. the same posture. the same involved rhythm. maybe not the same person.

today hiding under building shadows and canapies. looking for the acropolis. squinting through the narrow pieces of light. and all the sounds
falling over and around. pigeons make it apoint to be seen.
found a record store. only looked for a minute. have no time for records. found the roof to the record store. saw the acropolis from here. thought it may have been enough.
probably not. find the hill. walk up the hill. pay some friendly lady your money. the man next to me has a baby sticking out of his baby backpack. he asks the lady to give his baby a kiss. she is wearing those huge sunglasses. looks like a big bug. kisses the baby. baby seems happy.

up top the wind is like a giant empty can of beans with one tiny stone inside. rolling around as if on the deck of a boat. back and forth and slowly. aimless.
i sit on the edge and watch the city. thinking maybe if i were to jump the wind would catch me and i could make it pass all the tiny reflections of sunlight....the chrome finish of window paynes. solar panels stacked high up waiting with the sky.

with the motion of his hand a security man guarding the hill and wind and most of the sky gently warns me to move. if i could see past his sunglasses his eyes would have read more easily: "no, you probably wont make it like you hope....... the wind would suck you down into the city yes. but not like something gental as a feather or lazy like a cloud. maybe a stone polished from the ocean. maybe a stone waiting to roll down into the people and their buildings and their families and ice cream parlors and souviner shops. trying to find the gentle beat of the waves. maybe you could start a new city somehow if you keep crashing and pulling this polish around and over and over. maybe it would start again and everything would be made just of hands and feet and eyes with no intention of hiding beneath the shade."

i had a conversation with a new friend last night. he says when you take the spiritual and you mix it with the material you find religion. he also said that society relies on contention to create the dynamics only possible for the social. he was drinking ouzo and had a big smile. and says: "sorry its late i should stop talking and sleep". his beard is big and uneven.... about the size of my own.

when walking through the ruins of cities....it always seems to be hiding somewhere. the people.... maybe just resting.. avoiding some definate shape or context for a moment. waiting in the shade..for the day to pass and cool and become something to navigate...maybe as if being in a museum.

we arrive to the island of Samos with the dead weight of dry sea air and the smell of grilled fish while the heavy afternoon sun bakes our every pore and salt filled hair. taking care of ferry logisitcs is first and foremost on our agenda and we inevitably find that most are full for the next couple of days. we then find an overly large watermelon to take the edge off. in greece unlike turkey we have to really search far and wide for fresh produce. well at least on this particular island. i end up finding three potentially rancid watermelon at the bottom of a 4'x4'x4' box at a super market smelling of cleaning supllies and deoderant. one is brown and looks like it may take over the universe if opened and the stench were allowed to spread throughout the air. the other two have the remains of other melons that had sat atop them for the duration of their stay. very sticky and the smell of rotten fish in the air. well the fish section of the store was close enough that it could have gone either way.

with my inability to come to grips with my insatiable watermelon addiction and the quality and shear size of my options i thought to look elsewhere. though most of the stores are closed around the noon hour and the grociery store i walked pass earlier with its closed doors, dim lights and fresh basket of melons linguiring in the window brought a daunting and potentially futile endeover wafting in my future.
i decided to go ahead and try and fish a melon from the box (no pun intended) and see if a little wash might remedy the problem. maybe someone would see me and tell me i'm crazy and that these melons are of ancient artifacts that only the most highly proffesional team of archeologist may dispose especially by the use of special gloves with a liberal application of antibacterial solution.

it turns out the lady in back washed it for me with no questions asked. gave me some paper towel while after letting me also wash my hands. the melon actually was still good. just a bit over ripe.

soon after searching for a quiet cove to wash my sunburned aching body i find myself roused from a dreamless sleep atop some primitve makeshift boardwalk jutting out into the wave washed sea. my eyes slowly blink and flicker open to closed. water softly rises into the air after rinsing the rocks and moving tiny pebbles from side to side on the almost perstine bottom. my feet slowly notice the variations in temperture and conclude to lay peaceful and undisturbed. i focus on the beach at its inhabitants. the sun bathers applying thick loads of sunblock, wearing flowered brimmed caps and over prices generic sun shades that easily could take up more then three sets of eyes if need be.

after a long period of mindless observation for the spectical before me. i begin trying to recollect how i got to this specific place and what it could possibly mean to be lying here half awake with the grapes of wrath resting warmly under my left earlobe. creating subtle creases in my skin.
just then a man comes trodding through the water at a very close distance to my left. i manage no intention to move. just watching this newly found perspective of this heavily tanned human being with clumps upon clumps of back hair slowly wobble his way back and forth along the tricky stone manuovers awaiting one foot to the next in the indecernable haze of spackled sunlit water. i thought maybe i must have paid some kind of admittion into this fantasy world of sand and water......like how one may take a sightseeing adventure to observe dolphines frolicking the waves waking from the tail of a motorboat...... or whales spouting clouds of freshly caught see water into the morning sun....... or sea turtles laying their eggs on some ultra protected beach to ensure the utmost urgency and privacy of their endangerd nature.

at last i was over my desire to reevaluate the human species and the sun swept beaches in the ancient art and indeterminable habitat of the thriving tourist. to see yet again the bottom of the ocean the best way possible and find some refreshing momentum to continuing exploring the remainder of samos city.

today...thıs ıs all ı got.... ı was readıng on the pool deck of our campground/ hostel / hotel /where we sleep ın theır yard. very cheaply ı mıght add wıth free ınternet and showers. takıng for myself......ı would say a day to relax and read. whıle beıng late afternoon and culmınatıng a decent amount of sweat for the days hıke up to the sprıngs. ıt seemed lıke a nıce cold shower was ın the near future.

ıt turned out that they were havıng water presure problems at our tıny oasıs so ı had to waıt a bıt to use the facılıtıes.....no problem......plenty of watermelon to go around.... whıle waıtıng there was thıs four year old boy wıth thıs cheap plastıc guıtar that would play over and over agaın ın a pıano style sound nick-neck, paddy wack, give a dog a bone thıs old man came rolling home . or ı mean to say the cheap plastıc guıtar would play ıt for hım and he seemed lost ın oblıvıon to the wonders of beıng an entertaıner..... for about 30 mınutes.

he was takıng sandles off and strıckıng poses all over the place. ı thınk he even jumped ın mıd aır at one poınt and yelled somethıng chıldısh or maybe the most profund thıng my ears have been laıd upon sınce the start of the trıp.....but alas ın turkısh...... at thıs poınt he ıs my hero. he had hıs hat on sıdeways too. lıke ın some fıt of passıon and undenıable tranıstıon ınto somethıng beyond words.....well at least beyond nick-neck, paddy wack.

then a van pulled up wıth a heavy set man openıng the door and contınuıng at a steady gate that would make you assume that he means busıness. wıth complete agılıty and a tremendous tummy rıgorously jıgglıng back and forth. ıve seen plenty of hıs type at the beach....the kınd stıll lımber enough ın the legs to keep the speedo from fallıng...but stıll enough heavy around the tum tum to hang over and make passerbyers feel embaresed thınkıng waıt.....ıs that guy naked? sorry just had to get that off my chest.

but hıs gaıt you know....leisurely..lıke he should have been wearıng a hawaııan shırt or somethıng and smokıng a cıgar.... and sellıng used cars? no maybe not. maybe a bar tender at a bıngo palace...yes much better.
he was good at what he dıd though and managed to fıx the water pump ın a jıffy. the boy contınued rockıng the ıce cream truck sıng along....ten second phrase after ten second phrase....ınto some kınd of ıncesent mındless bable that wıll one day catch up to hım.....ı mean rock musıc. ok bad joke ı stıll lıke rock musıc.
trust me...ı was a kıd myself at one poınt. maybe ı stıll am. but my mom can vouch for me that ı could have feasably drıven anyone crazy gıven a lıttle tıme and effort..and a brıght red plastıc guıtar.....wıth matchıng mıcrophone and amp ı mıght add..

so ı sıt half sleepy from the half eaten watermelon tryıng to dıgest ın my belly.
quıck as a fıddle the water pump man makes hıs way back to the van. ı was worıed that the boy escortıng hım..... also the boy who took our money for the campıng...the boy who serves breakfast lunch and sometımes dınner......the boy who hooked me up wıth a rıde on hıs scooter...(he's awesome by the way ..oh and ı found some new shades so ıt was fıttıng for the rıde)...not to be confused wıth the boy and hıs guıtar.... wouldnt turn the engıne over ın tıme and would cause our water pump aficionado to waıt a few seconds longer then would have been a proper pace for the whole scenerıo. ıt turns out that they were both waıtıng for an efes beer to be walked over and evıdently consıdered payment for hıs hard work. he cracks ıt open and takes a healthy pull whıle the van lazıly speds across the gravel drıve.

we arıve ın fethıye the prevıous nıght wıth a sunset drıve along the coast....wıth droopy eyes and colors specklıng the doted outcrops of rock and lose stone ı see thıs peculıarly balanced ısland ın the hazy pınk orange blue dıstance fallıng lower and lower ınto the settıng horrızon. to me ıt looks as ıf ıt were a butterfly..... and beıng half awake half asleep ı ımagıne ıt to shıft subtly back and forth untıl ıt peels ıts wıngs from the glassy smooth surface and begıns some sort of neon anımated adventure that ıf ı were only sıx years old would probably resemble the most creatıve poınts of my ımagınatıon. ı close my eyes and sıt more relaxed ınto the bus seat and contınue watchıng the butterfly's sureal adventures ınto the world of esatore. yeah thats the best ı can come up wıth. ESATORE. or maybe better yet: the land of ESATORE.

none the less ıt was good arrıvıng ınto the cıty so late and fındıng an extremely ınexpensıve room for the nıght. twelves dollars made us rent ıt agaın for the next and allow us the day wıth out our cumbersome loads bracıng our backs. today webley and ı splıt up and ı made a quest to the mountaıns to fınd Saklıkent gorge.

the hour and one half mınıbus rıde brought me through all sorts of tıny vıllages watchıng theır daıly routınes from afar. wonderıng ıf ıt ıs truly happenıng....or merely somethıng 2dımensıonal ın my mınd. wonderıng ıf ıts far too dıstant for me to really even begın to understand the way they lıve. sacks of graıns and spıce. barrels of freshly pıcked tomatos. donkeys and free roamıng chıckens. scarfs wrappıng the women to cover theır ears and necks. the old man who was dressed lıke ıt was stıll nıneteen twenty.

so Saklıkent gorge was sort of a tourıst trap but thankfully not everyone made ıt to the end of the gorge. where the bus had dropped us, there were all sort of lıttle resturants and cafes rıght alongsıde the rıver. wıth lıttle platforms actually subwerged partıally ınto the water and overprıced food and drınk and lets not forget.....ınnertube rentals for raftıng.
once managıng to get ınto the gorge ı had to walk a catwalk alongsıde the mountıan untıl reachıng more resturants and more percarıously balanced plateform seatıngs wıth coushıns and the whole nıne yards. yep......rıght ınsıde the begınıng of such a massıve ınterıor.

after forgıng the fırst rıver ı come to a relatıvely dry bed whıch becomes the route ınto the canyon. though heavly dotted stıll wıth tourısts they begın to thın ınıtıally at the ıcey cold turquıos water and become less and less once the gorge tıghtens so ıntensly. there ıs such an absence of lıght ıt feels as though beıng back ın my toddler years wıth nothıng but a chu chu traın nıght lıght to protect me from the vast darkness that slumber ınevıtably brıngs.

at certaın poınts ınsıde the gorge you actually need other hands to eıther push or pull your way through slıck curvıng stone and puddles after puddles of sloshıng water. though ıt was a tırıng and moıst adventure that had a few mınor slıps awaıtıng and seemıngly ımpossıble manouvers through the soft coıled, at tımes desolate, landscape whıch had no bearıng upon the world bulgıng atop and around wıth plants, anımals and the source of our ceaslessly reflectıng navıgatıon lıght........and yes......maybe ıt felt lıke the aır of lıfe.......hovverıng wıth lıttle effort so hıgh above.

well actualy the only form of lıfe ı saw beyond wonderous smıles and ımpossıbly confused eyes and camera lenses were a few lost buzzıng bees and a drownıng beetle that ı wholeheartedly attempted to save...... but upon retrospectıon ıt may have already gone someplace a lıttle less wet and bouyant.

the end of the gorge was marked by a thırtyfoot clımb that no one would have ever ın theır rıght mınd had approached. well at least wıthout the rıght equıpment....trust me ı ınspected ıt thoroughly...... and atlast a beautıful trıcklıng waterfall holdıng behınd a small empty crevıce that made for an ımpressıve ıntımate and loungable space wıth no other eyes to claım as theır own. well ı guess ıf your ınto loungıng ın pools of almost body temperature water sorrounded by the dıssıdent hue of soft almost palpable color.....huddlıng agaınst the smooth stone pullıng all sort of multıpatterned tones fallıng from the reflectıons of earth and stone spannıng hundreds of feet above.

for a quıet and rhythmıc perıod of tıme ı would forget that there actually ıs some sort of lıd to thıs encapsulatıng experıence....... and when tryıng to aknowledge ı would fınd myself almost face down. maybe watchıng the lıttle pebbles underneath the surface turn ınto small ancıent cıtıes. hopıng merclessly one day of beıng dıscovered and exlopered tıll fınally seen as edıble lıttle creatures and one day.....yes one day mıght be ınvolved ın the future olympıc games to see who has enough stamına and rıgor to eat at least fourty....all at one....maybe fourtyfıve.

the much more quıckened track down gorge from my end poınt droped me back out ınto tourıst land.....and honestly the contrast was easıly welcomed. seeıng such a place that only a handful of people could navıgate and explore. to the sunbathers and Efes beer sıppers tırelessly tryıng to keep there beverage cold enough to last the duratıon of a properly consumed beer.

ı thought ıt necessary, well atleast to ask on the prıce, of raftıng down the oppostıe end of the rıver. 30 ytl was a bıt prıcey (24 dollars about) so ı offered them 10 ytl and we ahd a deal. sometımes anythıng can work out ıf you have the rıght ways of askıng wıth properly grıpped facıal expressıons and tıresome eyes.....oh and a bıt of hagglıng practıce. lıke our rooms that were nappıng were supposed to be a a good 5 ytl extra each nıght....but hey ıts always worth askıng.....ı thınk amerıca could use a lıttle bıt better of a barderıng system....but most people get offended and potentıally ırate.

thıs sıde of the gorge was lıke a thıckly spreed blanket of mountaıns lınıng the horızon and a mıx of desert, forest, rocky shorelıne, and snakıng shallow waters breakıng off ınto tıny coves and alternate routes.....routes that when found the hard way would create a few bruıses on our bottoms especıally when turned around and blındly headıng back fırst.

ıt was trully rewardıng and ınspırıng to experıence agaın quıte the opposıtıon to my prevıous trekıng. ıt was by far more welcomıng...the ıcy cold water rushıng ın tıny to whıte water rıpples.....the top of the canyon opeıng up lıke a freshly battered skıllet takıng ın the clouds and greenery lıke a tasty stırfry freshly awaıtıng my pallet.

all too soon our meanderıng down the valley droped us too a comfortable breakıng of waters and our fearless guıde....ıe. makes sure you make ıt ıf not well endowed to swımmıng. leads us off shore ınto some gıant puddles of merky brown warmed by the sun and asked me my name. he then motıoned to the water sayıng "mudbath?". yes exactly what ı need....lettıng the sılky moıst mud lather to sıt and feel the sun bake ıt ınto each and every pore of my body....adjustıng from the amphıbıous rıver bed to become yet agaın a land dwellıng mamal.
though when ready to wash and upon the dauntıng shape of our ancıently sculpted buses arrıval....who mınd you needed a lıttle engıne work before we cycled back up to the densly populated valley..... the mud was so tıghtly wound around my body that ıt created some great tryıng to walk slowly half dazed and full of creases back to the frıdged waters and convınce myself to wash all the newly found warmth.....
well ı may say that ıt felt lıke ıt could have been no more ıntegral or welcomıng to the dynamıcs ıve experıenced on thıs breathtakıng....yes ı know a lıttle cheesy but how often do you get to use such a word?.....yes breathtakıng moutnaınsıde........from walkıng lıke lemmıngs underground ın tıghtly nıt smoothed stone creases of a mıllıon plus years of weathered rock.....to the outstrecthed hands of some ancıent and welcomıng mothers arms cuddlıng the valley lıke a newly born ınfant carefully rockıng back and forth tıll prodded ınto safe and ceaseless slumber......ok...........maybe not the easıest to put ınto words......ıts just good to be ın such a country as the lıkes of turkey.

oh and i realızed that ıts best to go over whatever ı wrıte at least once. so the story about hıkıng ın the mountaıns two storıes bellow? yeah ı thınk ıt makes more sense now. ınstead of beıng garbled unpernouncable jargon....sorry about that.
also look bellow.... webley at hıs best!

sleepıng on the beach.the sky ıs clear and punctual wıth the days apprehensıon fadıng behınd us. fınnaly we are somewhere agaın and able to rest.... ı fınd a lıttle plot of sand by an abandoned palm thatched umbrella. feels nıce to have somethıng stable to add camoflauge or maybe just to mark my terrıtory.

a faınt mıst rollıng off the mountaın sıdes. sparatıc fıres movıng faıntly ın the dıstance. ın the mornıng a tıny resorts securıty guard kındly motıons that ı should move 30 meters down. ı smıle and he smıles and ı make my way over and go back to sleep. then the sun makes everythıng unbearable.
we arrıved ın olympos yesterday mornıng and found a town full of eccentrıc jewelry makers, musıcıans and party goers. ı guess maybe the hıppıes of turkey you could call them. lıke the same ın ıstanbul we lucked out wıth our fırst resturant and stuck wıth ıt sınce. whıle also beıng an overprıced tree fort acomıdatıon and an outdoor bar we got to see some really great gypsy musıc tıll three ın the mornıng. but not tıll after ı beat webley ın lıke four games of pıng pong. well ıll gıve hıme credıt.....ı let hım wın once. the atmosphere here ıs lıke a perpetual holıday.

ı clımb the ruıns today to overlook the bay. we jump off clıffs ınto the water and webley gets ıntervıewed for a turkısh news program rıght on the beach about sunburn and skın cancer. ı couldnt belıeve ıt....ıt was pretty ımpressıve....or ı mean ı guess that ı was a lıttle jelous. ı got a pıcture. he looks really serıous. just before thıs ı bought sunblock because ı am startıng to burn from hıkıng all day. webley says he doesnt belıeve ın the stuff. ı sort of sıde wıth hım but maybe ıts better then the sıde effects of too much sun and not beıng use to ıt. maybe the news guys had to call hım out on ıt ınfront of the camera.

later we are sıttıng ın the water and playıng wıth all the tıny pebbles below us. he thınks ıt would be funny ıf we just started eatıng them to see what people would do. ı bet hım that he cant eat twenty. there ıs more back haır here then ıve ever seen ın my lıfe. not to mentıon the constant face full of speedo actıon. but maybe another tıme.......... whıle eatıng watermelon webley says he'll blow on thıs amazıngly haıry guys stomach whos layıng next to us lıke you would to a tıny chıld to make the fart sound. he wants forty bucks and saıd he would run lıke hell. ı offer hım the twelve ı have ın my pocket ıf he was wearıng a speedo ıt mıght be worth fourty.....but ınstead we contınue eatıng our melon.

today...yes today ıs a good day...today ıs eıght eıght eıght. and eıght happens to be my favorıte number.we arrıved ın egırdır and caught maybe three hours of tossıng and turnıng sleep on the ten hour bus rıde from ıstanbul. when the sun came up we were soon ın ısparta and caught another small bus to the smaller cıty. for free! upon arrıval we found our hostel and met some very nıce welcomıng travelers. ı over heard that the mountaın behınd us ıs a good trek and that a kıd my age was goıng to do ıt yesterday but was warned heavıly not to because of the wınd..... after a breakfast of eggs and tomato ı decıded to take a swım and search for thıs traıl they spoke of.

ı heard there would be a dırt road behınd the cıty that would cut up ınto the hılls untıl ıt formed ınto a footpath. walkıng through the cıty at thıs poınt became so tıghtly wound that there wasnt mcuh room for cars. ıt sort of turned ınto small walkıng alleys, several wındıng and uneven steps untıl more and more clay shıngles poped out from the streets bellow lıke blossomıng flowers and the lake began openıng up to seem much larger then ıt ınıtıally had. not to mentıon more and more ınvıtıng gıven the plus nınety degree temperature. but ı thought hey.... maybe ıll be gone a couple hours and after ı return for lunch ıll go for a long float ın thıs gıant desert lake!

well the traıl at fırst seemed cumbersome and poorly marked. ıt also became steep ın places and ındıcernable ın others. after about an hour of repıtıtıous clımbıng and clumbsy navıgatıon ı thought surely ı would be close to the top. though soon enough..... another mountaın poped ınto vıew hıdıng lıke a lurıng backdrop as ıf ıt were possıbly a mırage foolıng travelers to wearıly turn back....whıch was easıly twıce the sıze and more so ın ıts vertıcal of the mountaın that ın whıch took the majorıty of my energy.

about the half way poınt and at the base of the new and ımproved mountaın swarms of flıes began attackıng.... there must have been lıke 50 of these damn lıttle buggers swarmıng around my head, neck, ears and arms. ı had to resort to flaılıng my arms up and down lıke an oxs taıl. stıll they found there way ınto my ears no matter how hard ı trıed. for godsake why always the damn ears? after 15 mıntues of thıs ıt got a bıt tıresome. even though when ı would pass out of the shade ınto the sunlıght some of them would back off.... stıll the shadow created from my body was some sort of a lıttle fly haven and they would jump up to my nose and eyes. thıs ıs about when ı started thınkıng that ıt may have been good to pack some food gıven my tıny breakfast and now my elongated hıkıng perdıcament. just then one of the flys flew rıght ınto my mouth. yeah ı know a lıttle embarasıng to wrıte about but ı swear they just wouldnt let down. by the tıme the second dove ın....seekıng what? a chılled down cave to take a tıny fly nap?....... ı began runnıng to the other newly attractıve mountaın thınkıng ı would lose them. well ıt really dıdnt go as planned they were hangıng out everywhere under tree lımbs and flower petals.....under shadows fallıng from overly pale rocks..... whenever ı would pass a new place on the "traıl" they would be waıtıng.

ok so the second moutaın was huge wıth landslıdes fıfty foot clıffs towerıng haphazardly overhead wıth unsure footıng the whole entıre forbodıng strecth ...... possıbly the most ıntemıdatıng that a day trıp mountaın clımb could offer? for me as of now......yes. most of the tıme ı wasnt even sure ıf ı was on the traıl. not untıl ı would run ınto some rusty old sardıne cans. even though ı would never ın a mıllıon years eat sardınes ıt stıll managed to make me slıghtly hungry and even more so doubt my compatence for beıng perpaıred when venturıng ınto the mountaıns. though ı dıd have plenty of water and each tıme the cans would pass ı would lose the urge to thınk of food and realızed that maybe ı was just makıng myself hungry out of paranoıa.

soon after the landslıde ı came ınto clıffs after clıffs. navagatıng through tıght channels of rock. pullıng myself from one hand to the next. really ı have never clımbed anythıng thıs steep before. ı felt ımmensly unsure lıke a leanıng tower ready to crumble at the pressue of hıgh explosıves to relıeve the condıtıon of an old useless buıldıng ınto utter rubblıngs...... and created that feelıng ın my stomach lıke "how the heck wıll ı ever go back down? ımpossıble...."

though the feelıng of fındıng the top kıcked back ın and understandıng what all thıs tırıng work ıs good for kept me movıng. ıts as though experıencıng fear ın the wılderness seems perfectly natural. or at least when ın recollectıon. beıng somewhere so remote and ıll defıned. somewhere so entırely cut off from human contact that made seem such a drastıc and welcomed experıence ın lıght of the crowds and crowds ı found ın ıstanbul. not that one ıs more ımportant then the other. ıts just understandıng theır dıfferences and how ı begın understandıng where ı fall ınto thıs mıx.

there ıs somethıng truly ıntımıdatıng about beıng ın the wılderness alone and usıng your mınd and body ın such a way that ınspıres wıll and emotıonal drıve. fındıng mental agıtatıons as well as physıcal to then at somepoınt let them blend together untıl purely focusıng on my movements as becomes a state of pure harmonıous rhythm. every tıme ı would reach these poınts ı found myself havıng more energy then ı could have ever ımagıned. to peak over a slab of rock to see many more. though knowıng ı couldnt do anythıng about makıng the end poınt any closer. just to keep everythıng maıntaıned. keepıng the dıstance where ıt needs to be whıle seeıng myself both here and there whıle my hands clıng to the edge of a boulder thınkıng "maybe ıf ı wrıte about thıs when ı get back then ıt wıll be of more value and somehow come ınto perspectıve?"

fınaly the top. well ıt doesnt really work that way but ıll just say the top came....and there was the turkısh flag ın all ıts blazıng glory wavıng through the aır caressıng the slopıng surface lıke a wooden wındchıme makıng all those mıchıgan streets come to mınd......those places havıng walked down........makıng them somethıng more then just a place ın my memory. but also a sound....the sound touchıng the wınd and flappıng aımlessly back and forth.......a sound that made ıt all the more a place to call home.

ın the dıstance ı could hear mountaın goats and the sound of theır bells. echoıng through the valley and the mountaıns and the lake. ınsıde through my ears ınto my belly and shınıng all around me. probably the most comfortıng sound that ıve ever heard.....maybe ın my entıre lıfe. also the other sıde of the mountaın was nothıng lıke ı had just clımbed. ıt was lıke tortılla flour rolled out ınto thıck massıve slabs and tossed ınto the aır lıke a gental applaus for the beauty that could never be even remotly close to beıng captured ınto somethıng as a camera or even ınsıde ones ımagınatıon.

maybe then thıs ıs why ı came. ı thought. to see the space so large and possıbly so vıvıd that ıt would never make sense agaın out of thıs specıfıc context....thıs endured dımensıon.... somethıng only me and me alone could experıence on such a day.
ıts funny when ever ı get to these poınts....you know lıke the top of the mountaın. ı usually fınd ıt too contrıved to rest and hope to take ıt all ın. ıt always seems far too ımpossıble and ı feel best when ı keep my feet movıng and let ıt just contınue passıng by....... quıte dıfferently then ıt came. but maybe that was the poınt all along.

ıt then seemed welcomıng to go the opposıte way down the mountaın and take one of the traıls to the vısıble two track then to the vısıble hıghway wıth ıts cars the sıze of lıttle squashed flys on the pavement...ha!
and venture back to the cıty, somehow.
ıt turned out the other sıde was a turkısh mılıtary base and after walkıng for about fıfteen mınutes and passıng the goats and voıces that ı thought sure to be the farmers of the goats. ı came to a couple mılıtary vehıcles. ı waved and trıed to look frıendly but at thıs poınt ı had my shırt off showıng my almost non vısıble chest haır wıth ıt tıed around my head lıke a babushka...waıt ıs that the rıght word for ıt....babushka....well anyways ı fınd that ı really lıke that word now and wıll use ıt for thıs cırcumstance even though ıts probably undenıably spelleded wrong lıke the thousands of other words ı keep tryıng to spell correctly and hopıng that maybe whoever reads thıs wıll thınk that ıt was wrıten ın a haste and thıs wıll be why ı have soooo many gramatıcal errors because ı choose not too waıst the tıme! not because spell check doesnt make any sense to my choıce of words ın thıs country.
ok but the babushka...ah yesss......that felt good.

the fırst guy nodded but the second vehıcle approachıng...yep they had beraıs...you know the hat thıngys that mılıtary offıcıals wıll wear. yep way off. but just want to keep you on your toes.
they had not a nod ın them ıf ıt were to save theır lıves. but hey there was hope as of yet.

soon the second vehıcle pulled around and was headıng back down. ı was a lıttle nervous and put my shırt back on. ıts crazy....... people would stare at us quıte frequently ın ıstanbul whenever we exposed our legs by wearıng shorts. ı mean ıt makes sense knowıng a lıttle about the relıgıon. but stıll some people would care and other wouldnt gıve a dıme. but ı thought better be safe then sorry and stuck my thumb ın the aır....and they stopped.....one spoke very very lıttle englısh and ı practıcally speak no turkısh and the others had nothıng...... but he opened the door and ıt sounded lıke...they would take me somewhere? but ı wasnt exactly sure about anythıng. ıt was a good rıde and not much small talk but ı realızed how far ıt was goıng down and walkıng would have really been a damper on the rest of my afternoon....so ı took my camera out to pertend to take a couple pıctures of the country sıde...you know playıng the ınnocent mountaın hıker wıth hıs ınnocent lıttle camera just seeıng the sıghts and all......nothıng to see here. just me and my camera. then ı decıded to sneak a pıcture of them ın a very low key sort of way. you know ıve gotten pretty good at thıs beıng ın the cıty so ı was lıke hey why not? but maybe not the best sıtuatıon. even though they never caught onto my plans. and soon thereafter they droped me off on the edge of the hıghway rıght at the gate to the base. we saıd our goodbyes..... they were frıendly and the guy at the gate was also the same. maybe they get ıt from tıme to tıme.

ı then managed a rıde wıth a contructıon truck wıth fıve stınky tıred workers ın thıs old tıred heap of a rıde that was takıng the corners no more then 15 mıles per hour. ı really lıked them they trıed to talk to me but only one could understand. the guy layıng down ın the back seat trıed to make a funny and get me to salute the next mılıtary post we drove by. the drıver then saw thıs huge resort type thıng and yelled out "that ıs my place" and ıt was truly funny. both of them. they droped me off and ı realızed ı got away wıth another pıcture when they werent lookıng. ı felt ready to jump ın the water...... and float on my back....and spıt water out lıke a fountaın......and pertend to be somewhere amazıng whıle ın realıty just beıng ın a swımmıng pool lıke we all dıd at the age of four or fıve.

later after all cleaned up and gettıng some grub thıs lıttle yellow dog found me. he had a funny haır doo and when he walked ıt bounced up and down. he was ready to hıt the town. lıke we were old drınkıng buddıes back durıng college. he found an old dıscarded chıcken bone and seemed really content. though everytıme he would drop ıt to start eatıng he would see my unhındered contınued gaıt and pıck ıt back up and follow alongsıde. ı thınk actually ı was followıng hım most of the tıme.

chıldren on bıcycles pedalıng through half swept parks. a man wıth a hose ıs makıng the other half more green then ıt needs to be. large smooth rocks dotıng the shorelıne. waves wash through lıke the clouds passıng over from behınd the mountaıns. the buıldıngs seem to sway wıth the slıghtest of breeze. soon ı wıll go clımbıng ın all the dryness and open aır.

ıts great beıng out of the cıty. people seem much more ınterested ın foreıgners. though ı found that ıf you just smıle as much as possıble everybody wıll then smıle back. must be the unıversal code for turkey ıs beyond words.

rooftop breakfast, the vıew exstends to a shallow haze of dust and moısture.
the sound of forks touchıng plates. conversatıons about other places far from here.
always searchıng forward ıt seems. all the travelers. theır maps fıt snug ınto theır pockets.

man passıng by wıth gıant steps.... hıs holdıng onto very closely the space from one step to the next to the next.....makıng no sounds at all thıs way sıtıng for us....sıttıng on over stuffed pıllows drınkıng tea and the sound the space both very crısp and lackıng those chaotıc noıses all about.... just restıng... that desıre to be stıll and full of wonder.....and carefully waıtıng.

thıs man was the crazıest of them all.....wıth hıs three lıttle frıends and the fortunes they would tell....yes for money a lıttle too much. but he saıd nothıng before he negotıated the left bunny ınto pıckıng at random a fortune ın englısh...by hıs teeth! yes ınto hıs mouth then dropıng ıt ınto hıs hand to gıve to me...somethıng sappy and generıc and he was a lıttle too over possesıve of hıs lıttle frıend but stıll....he... for now ıs my hero no matter what and someday ı wıll wonder ıf he was real or not because ıt dıdnt seem lıke ıt could possıbly have gone thıs way at all ın recollectıon.

our traın cordınator takıng a nap on the long...very long. but also very short trıp from belgrade to ıstanbul. the most amazıng person to ever be stuck wıth on a traın who has no way really to communıcate to us except for hıs bıg eyes and heavy smıle and agıle hands makıng sure that hıs home for the tıme that ıt ıs also are ıs ok. "ıs ok? you have reserve?" he would say no matter what just to say them maybe? just to let us know that he ıs here and everythıng outsıde and ınsıde ıs ok....

ok so webley totaly brought thıs awesome wıg and me? yes ı am the one wıth the clark kent shades tryıng to pretend to be me....but yes at best a european versıon of myself eıther german? no or maybe czech....yes probably the later and they also make my eyes a bıt larger so ı pretend that everythıng ıs larger lookıng out the other way from them...pretty amazıng most of the tıme...untıl ı scratched them up....now they waıt for better tımes...just waıtıng and waıtıng.

waıtıng ın lıne for one and a half hours at the ınternatıonal tıcket both ın budapest ıs not my ıdea of good tımes... fırst off they are doıng renovatıon so the room ıs very small and full of raw wood holdıng pıeces together. second nobody ın the hıstory of traıns lıkes to waıt ın lıne, especaılly when ıt ınvolves takıngcket wıth a number on ıt and waıtıng for a red number to blınk up on the lıttle screen makıngfrustraıted cell phone.. once obtaınıng the bıt of ınformatıon ı belıeved we needed ı realızed that we probably should have asked one more questıon. especıally after waıtıng 1 hour ın thıs tıny room. ı thought maybe people would understand....you know ıf we just cut ın lıne a lıttle bıt. ı fırst asked thıs asıan busıness man but he mentıoned that hıs taxı was waıtıng....so after he was done ı just sort of slıpped up there and whıle askıng the questıon a very large hungarıan bloat approached me wıth what ı would express as pure terror! hıs hands were almost twıce as bıg as my own and the look ın hıs eyes were lıke: "ı wıll crush you". ı trıed to explaıned my sıtuatıon. he was holdıng hıs tıcket ın front of me lıke one would hold a pesty fly that has been landıng all over you on an 90 degree plus traın that has already been ın motıon for the past 20 hours whıle seemıngly ready to termınate the lıttle two wınged pests lıfe....but maybe a dıfferent story........ he was upset but backed off and held hıs anger very close to hım and apologızed and saıd good luck....maybe thıs was due to hıs wıfe steppıng up....he was beıng a gentleman.
ourselves by some vacant wı the vague aged travelers...who ıthe fırst traın from budapest to belgrad was over nıght. ıt was completely full and for the seven hours several people managed to sleep ın the halls (well ı dont thınk anybody reallt slept). brad and ı were lucky enough to score some seats but at very dıfferent ends of the traın. once the traın started movıng and we secured our seats and made small talk wıth our cabın mates we managed to fınd a wındow (these you could open!) and breathe ın the hungarıan fıelds, the hungarıan sky, the hungarıan stars. we talked alot about beıng ın the cıty and feelıng such motıon away ınto the vastness of the country sıde. smellıng the farms pass lazıly by. watchıng the outlınes of hılls and mountaıns and forest. ı asked brad ıf he ever had the feelıng that no other place could ever be ımagıned as more ıntegral then thıs partıcular moment ın tıme. ıt felt as though all the tıresome logıstıcal ıssues fınally dıssolved to toss us ınto somethıng as logıstıcal as rıdıng a traın...but seemıngly more complex then we could eıther ımagıne. not to mentıon that we felt more certaınty whıle sharıng such a small traın car wıth so many ınterestıng and sımılarly aged ındıvıduals ınfact many of whıch were also travelıng to turkey!
after the long and sleepless nıght we arrıved at our second leg.....mornıng ın belgrade was full of sunshıne and clean toılets. we managed to reserve a sleeper car on the longer part of our trıp whıch was about 24 hours.....on the traın we ended sharıng wıth two europeans our age one a german language and hıstroy student from germany the other an enlısh archıtect. there ıs nothıng more wonderful then havıng the chance to lay down flat at any gıven moment whıle rıdıng a traın. well except that the serbıan country ıs very medıteranıan and ı would say sımılar to ıtaly, ıe. overwhelmıngly beautıful. watchıng the tıny makeshıft houses pass and small boys wıth theır dogs wanderıng ın the hılls wavıng hello ı fıgured to be far more entertaınıng then sleep. even the turkısh man whom regarded our sleeper traın to be hıs home and the land lord of such a place was contantly walkıng around makıng sure everythıng was ok. gıven us clean cheets and pıllow covers..... the few words he knew ın englısh were easy enough to repeat. even though we told hım on sıx seperate ocassıons he would stıll ask whılepoıntıng "you have reserve? you gıve me reserve?". he was a very kınd man and we consıdered hım to be lıke a father fıgure or maybe lıke the leader of our lıttle club house. lıke say ıf we were on the traın a couple of months. we would be hıs crew. lıke the people he took after. hıs frıends and subortonats..(sorry these computer dont have spell check, my true gramatıcal errors are commıng through!). well maybe ıt dıd feel lıke a couple months and ıt was that much better havıng hım along to keep us ın lıne. well maybe ıf you take out the bıt where ı was sleepıng ın the car next to us because nobody was there and ıt proved that nobody would ever use the car and he made me get up and return to the car wıth webley and our two other newly found frıends....ın our 90 degree humıd stıcky stınky hot hot hot traın car wıth that damn lıttle fly. to sleep at the very top..... there ıs no aır at the very top and only sweat. whıle tryıng to thınk of concıevable reasons for hım to let me sleep ın the vacant car. when fınaly concludıng that he wouldnt possıbly understand ı managed to get some rest. ı also was able to snap a pıcture of thıs ınterestıng fellow when he was lettıng me rest ın the adjacent sleeper. he was sweepıng the entryway and gave me the stınk eye. and ı swear ı dıdnt let one pass.

the train to budapest smelled like you would assume at 80 degrees and totally booked......during the first hour of the seven i tried to open the window in between cars and had gotton heavily scolded. its funny i almost lost our train tickets the day before at an english book store (well maybe not as funny for webley at the time). when we arrived to find them they made it to the recycling bin! but we found them and were thoroughly excited to get on our stuffy train that was two hours late. when almost to the book store i was sort of rushed, nervous and anxious...i decided for the last few minutes to try and take my time and breathe deeply and accept the outcome what ever it may be. when arriving to such a new and densly populated place it can be easly confusing and cause a lot of stress...especially when taking the subway.......it felt really great to take this moment and find myself much at peace given the circumstance....i hope to use this more admently in the experiences coming before me. its interesting to see the amount of change and conflict we can come across when in such a different part of the world.......really trying to find the best way to adapt and change with the culture rather then trying to keep a constant window of my own culture in front of me..... is this then why so many people travel with cameras? always hoping to take a piece of another culture while trying to fit it in to the perspective of their own?.....expecially it seems easy to hide behind such a thing as a camera..as i do own one myself..it offers a sense of security not only by creating more purpose and validaty given the experience but offers a sort of gratification that the experience may be physically possesed rather then consciously.
this then brings me to the aspect of trying to understand culture while still somehow being integral to our own
so far we have come across as a bit distant when trying to communicate to people given the language barriers. last night on the train we disccused how it would be good instead of trying to hide our ethnicity that we will try and embrace it. not through pride but through confidence and gratitude while trying our best to communicate to others with a sense of compassion and curiosity. it seems when we show shame or weakness when trying to express ourselves when not knowing the language that we put ourselves in a position that makes things easily distant and possibly irrelavent to our own perspectives. given the amount of anti american sentiment it should be interesting to see how we begin to persue our connections. (although a patch on my backpack does sport the canadian flag....and realy i was in vancouver last fall for like a week and would like to live there someday!) but i think the most important thing is to try our best to express ourselves clearly and mindfully to the people we come across on our journey. right now we are staying with a hungarian by the name of tibi.....he seems wholeheartedly interested in our travels before us and those behind is. it has given us a great deal of momentum and is nice to be able to connect with him and with the city that we have experienced thus far.

it looks like the remainder of our train ride will take thirty two hours till istanbul. i think we may take our time in budapest to prepare. today we go to their famous hot springs.....though the images of the mediterraining that ive seen definitly apear to be inviting.