Late Night Kebaps and Discos in Turkey

So, I have officially arrived back in the US of A. Symbolically, I arrived in Washington DC , our nation's capital, the place in which I was born, the place from which I originally departed the US and the place in which our esteemed President Bush spends his non-vacation days, listening to Dick's wacky ideas on world domination and otherwise playing Nintendo ("Delta Force: Operation Iraqi Freedom").

It is fantastic to be back Stateside but before i talk about Washington DC (and soon New York), i'll give a summary of my adventures in Turkey, with friend and travel extraordinaire, Mr. Jacob Molland...

We arrived in Istanbul, the enormous metropolis reknown for its legendary kebaps and doners which have spread across the globe to fill the late-night gastronomical dreams of millions of urbanites. Lesser known to the foreign world but equally scrumptious fruit juices abound in Turkey, providing world travelers Jake and I the enviable opportunity to sample a range of nature's best attempts to tantalize tastebuds for evolutonary purposes and bragging rights. What fruit flavors merit such excessive praise? Well, cherry, apricot and nectarine top the esteemed list but the standard set of orange, apple and pineapple also make appearances. Regularly filling pockets with fruit juices in order to avoid future shortages, i began to embarass Jake, frankly, whose appreciation for cherry fruit juice and cargo shorts may be under-developed, (not to mention a pre-existing, under-developed appreciation for red Crocs). Although our propensity to indulge in fruit juices varied, Jake and I were in strong agreement with respect to the merit, value and down-right tastiness of the kebaps, leading to numerous late-night purchases of kebaps during our 7 day Turkish journey. We also found ourselves consuming large quantities of Turkish coffee, which consists of one part coffee and two parts motor grease from a 1959 Chevy, appropriately is served in a small beaker-like recepticle, and is especially likely to be consumed during late-night hours, despite producing a caffeine high that would make a cocktail of Redbull and crack cocaine seem to produce a "drowsy feeling". Jake and I also noticed how we were subsizing other non-drinking patrons with each of our $20 Rum and Cokes, either because other patrons abstained from alcohol for religious reasons or abstained from alcohol because they had the sense to know that a $20 drink is a freakin' rip off. Such caffeine highs from Turkish coffee and Rum and Cokes are important, though, in order to stay up for the late-night Turkish discos, including 5,000 person foam disco parties with bikini-clad women who are showered from water fountains while dancing to the intoxicating sounds masterminded by famous Dutch DJs at the legendary Halikarnas Disco in Bodrum.

Our Turkey experience wasn't just late-night clubbing though. No, it also included the taxi rides to and from the clubs (which usually included unrequested circuitous silent tours of the entire city) and preparation for the clubs (e.g. lying on the beach, eating, rehydrating, etc). We also allocated 20% of our Turkish experience to "ancient culture and archeaology", which consisted of a tour of the spectacular Greek and Roman ruins at Efes. Rows of columns (and columns of rows?) lined the marble-stoned roads and magnificent marble building facades that prompted deep thoughts in Jake and I (e.g. "Ah, the passing of time. How fleeting the human experience..." and "Boy, it would be awesome to get a bunch of guys together and get a mamouth game of paintball going here".) Although the 2000 year old ruins were impressive, what caught my eye and the sharp gaze of my camera lens, was the sign for the restroom. The picture of the pudgy kid in a strange position making awkward gestures was curious indeed, but the commentary surrounding the signage, "Only 50 cent is worth enough to feel the magic atmosphere", was truly perplexing and thought provoking. "Magic atmosphere? Huh? What exactly is going on in that restroom?"

Mystery number two followed shortly thereafter, when, upon walking back to the motel, a swarm of swallows raced across the sky for a continuous 20 minutes, dive bombing and strafing Jake and I as we ducked, covered and snapped photos. Witty commentary and daring flanking manuevers were captured on Jake's videocamera for time immortal, as was evidence that my hair, uncut for 3 full months, is in desperate need for a visit to the barbar.

Although my hair has shattered previous personal records for "shagginess" and "bigness" (although certainly it is still a lightweight in any respectable "big hair content"), my skin has officially abandoned its "reb lobster" hue and has taken on a certifiable tan. Never before have i been so interested in proper tan development and care. Understandably, and having a speaking and listening travel companion for the first time in months, I began a near constant discussion about my tan for Jake's entertainment and enlightenment, a topic for which Jake displayed surprisingly low levels of interest (despite the fact that this one was a rare mix of sun collected from across 12 countries). His disinterest was likely related to the fact that he himself had the pastiest white skin on anyone on a Mediterrean beach, threatening to take my previous championship title.

i am now back on the US East Coast, for Elisabeth Steele's wedding in Washington DC and for friends in New York, before heading back to the West Coast, officially going home and starting up the next big chapter in San Francisco. Final blog and "best of trip" pictures coming soon...