Impressions of Turkey

Turkey's geographical location speaks volumes about it's history. For thousands of years this plot of land has held great strategic importance as a bridge between east and west. It's shores have seen more than it's fair share of battles and it's people have watched empires come and go. It is the home of Troy, the site of the battle of Gallipoli, and the final resting place of Noah's Ark. It is rich with importance to historians, archaeologists, and Biblical scholars alike. And after a long, tumultuous history it is, for the time being, stable.

In it's current incarnation Turkey is a nation of 70.4 million people that covers nearly 800,000 square miles. It is a nation that seems to simultaneously exist within the past and the present. Old men in tweed outfits and button up shirts play backgammon matches against young hipsters with spiky hair. Old women in head scarfs and long, plain skirts trudge down the street past cosmopolitan girls giggling into cell phones. A young punk in a Linkin Park t-shirt sports a guitar case containing the sas, a traditional Turkish folk instrument, and huge Mercedes buses speed down the road past horse drawn carriages stacked high with hay. It's as if the timeline here has gone completely haywire, accidentally integrating the beginnings of the last two centuries.

Turkey's main religion is Islam, but walking the streets in most major cities, you might not guess that right away. As opposed to many of their neighbors, most religious Turks practice a soft form of Islam that is neither militant nor fundamentalist in nature. Though some still choose to, most Turkish women do not wear head scarfs, and alcohol, especially the local favorite raki, is served in nearly every restaurant.

This is not to say however that Turkish people are not pious Muslims. Every city has an abundance of big and beautiful mosques, and the call to prayer rings throughout the streets of Istanbul as loudly as it does in Kabul or Tehran. It's just that the majority of Turkish Muslims practice their faith in a way reminiscent of American Catholics; more often than not keeping the faith, while picking and choosing the traditions that fit their modern lifestyle.

The average annual income in Turkey is around US$6,000, however this figure increases dramatically in metropolitan centers and along the western coast. The two big industries that keep Turkey's economy running are tourism and agriculture. In fact, Turkey is one of the only countries in the world to be entirely agriculturally independent. Much of the land outside the big cities is dedicated to farming, with tomatoes, apricots, wheat, and corn being chief among it's multitude of crops. Farming methods range depending on the capability of the owners, and everything from shiny new tractors to plow driven mules can be seen being used here.

Which of course, brings us to food. I was recently talking to a waiter at a restaurant who remarked that he wanted to visit his brother, who currently lives in Tokyo. He was eager to go, but was worried because he thought the food in Japan wasn't healthy, like the food in Turkey. This is of course absurd, as Japanese cuisine is among some of the healthiest in the world, and Turkish food is extremely high in calories and fat. In fact, this country has one of fastest rising obesity rates in the world.

Bread, cucumbers, tomatoes, cheese, and olives make up the ordinary breakfast, rivaled only by lentil soup served alongside heaps of crusty, white bread. Grilled meatballs known as kofte, are a popular for lunch served with tomatoes and rice, and again more bread. But the reigning king of Turkish cuisine is the all-mighty doner. Doner itself means “spinning” in Turkish, and you'll find the huge slabs of chicken and beef that comprise the bulk of these sandwiches rotating in the windows of endless store fronts. Similar to the Greek gyro, the doner consists of thinly sliced meat, tomatoes, onions, ketchup and garlic sauce dressed on thick French-style bread. They are cheap, fast, and probably the single reason that the presence of McDonald's doesn't loom as largely here as it does in other parts of the Europe. Did I mention they're also delicious?

Anyone who has ever watched Midnight Express knows that drugs are highly illegal in Turkey. But there are three vices that almost everyone here is guilty of: tobacco, tea, and backgammon. These addictions are on display on nearly every street corner, quite often all at once. In my time here I have thoroughly succumb to two of these three demons. Fortunately neither one I've chosen is likely to cause me cancer, though I am in danger of both losing sleep and wasting time.
Straddling Europe, and the Middle East, Turkey is an ancient land that is charging full throttle into the new millennium. Though it may not be as successful as some of the other countries that border the Mediterranean, Turkey is no longer the sick man of Europe. In fact, from what I've seen so far, it appears to be doing quite well.

A Quick Announcement

For those who are not already aware of it, the schedule for our journey has been drastically adjusted. One of the great joys of traveling the way we have been for the last five months is the freedom it allows. When we left in February we had purchased only one way tickets to Bangkok and had sketched out just a rough itinerary. Little more than a list of countries and the months we thought we'd be there.
The world is not a static place though and many things combined to change that list: the plummeting dollar, the events in Tibet, China, and Myanmar, and admittedly general burnout from spending so much time within a single region. So it was we decided that we would abandon our plans to travel to Vietnam, China, Tibet, Indonesia, and New Zealand. Instead we grabbed our bags and hopped on a plane to Istanbul, our sites set firmly on the more stable parts of the Middle East.
So there you have it. The next few segments of the Yakcast will be relaying messages from the Cradle of Civilization as Amanda and I trek through Turkey, Egypt, Israel, and Jordan. After these countries I will be continuing on to Nepal and India alone as Amanda heads home to Boston to spend some time with her family.
I should be back in the US in time to vote, and back in Seattle around mid-November. Unless of course something else changes. Stay tuned, I'll keep you posted.

Phnom Penh, Cambodia

There was a calm reverence about the place. A quiet mood that sealed the surrounding area within a cone of silence. Even the birds seemed to understand it was not not a place to sing too loud, or too bright. I laid a two dollar contribution on a silver tray as a pair of small brown hands lit four sticks of incense and handed two each to Amanda and me. We respectfully removed our shoes and walked up a small flight of stairs, smoke drifting behind us in small, sweet curls.
The building we approached was a chedi, two stories high, with four tall white walls supporting a stack of three Asian-style peaked roofs painted green and orange. The interior was exposed on all four sides, and I squinted my eyes due to the bright glare that reflected off a glass case that ran up the height of the building. As we got closer the glare dimmed and I could clearly see the case's contents of more then 8,000 human skulls.

Spend any amount of time in Cambodia and you're guaranteed to see the long term effects of war. Cultural landmarks riddled with bullet holes. A landmine victim selling books from a converted bicycle he has to pedal with his arms because he has no legs. A beggar whose face has been burned into one giant scar.
American involvement in Cambodia's civil war is often treated as a footnote in our Southeast Asian military campaign- an asterisk. Though people often discuss Vietnam, never much thought or reflection is given to the so called "secret wars" we conducted in Cambodia and Laos. However, during the early 1970's the American military dropped approximately 2,750,000 tons of bombs on Vietnamese soldiers that had crossed the border into Cambodia. Though President Rıchard Nixon and Secretary of State Henry Kissinger denied the bombings, it is now widely acknowledged that countless thousands of civilian casualties took place during this 14 month American campaign.
Because it suited or own best interests, we disregarded the political desires of the Cambodian people and helped to install the American friendly puppet Lon Nol as their Prime Minister. We turned a blind eye to Nol's corrupt abuses of power so long as he continued to rubber stamp our requests to drop more bombs. These campaigns helped intensify unrest and over time served to increase support for the rise of the Khmer Rouge revolutionaries which eventually resulted in civil war.
Meddling in a situation we didn't fully understand, we fanned the flames of an already volatile situation. We brought in bigger weapons that found their way into the hands of both sides. Then, when things got to hot, we walked away. Leaving the small nation's army alone to fight a gang of butchers against whom we knew they couldn't win.
It only took four years for Pol Pot and his Khmer Rouge to completely devastate Cambodia. It's hard to rationalize the thinking behind what they did. It was genocidal madness masked as ideology. They intended it to be an agrarian-communist revolution. Those who lived in the cities and did not produce food were thought to be exploiting the farmers. Decadent and useless these people were the enemies of the revolution. Almost immediately after the Khmer Rouge came to power the capitol city of Phnom Penh was evacuated. It's residents were marched into the countryside to be enslaved, imprisoned or killed.
Anyone who was a member of the previous government was killed. Anyone who had ties to the American military was killed. Anyone who had a college education was killed. Anyone who wore glasses was assumed to be educated, and was therefore killed. Those that weren't executed outright were forced to work on farms under excruciating conditions, and to live in villages that were little more than internment camps.

The tall, white building I stood in front of with it's bone white display of human carnage is a memorial to the people who died during this unforgettable period of Cambodian history. The area surrounding the memorial is known as the Killing Fields, for obvious reasons. Walking around the site one sees mounds of dirt at spots that served as mass graves. Bits of clothing and fragments of bone still poke out of the ground in places. Signs reveal the horrible truth about the numbers of human remains excavated from around the area.
It's hard to be here and not begin losing hope. To wonder how an evil as terrible as this could exist within human beings. But the horrors inflicted on Cambodia don't end with the eventual defeat of the Khmer Rouge by the Vietnamese in 1980. Since then they've had to deal with a massive infestation of landmines (many of which are left over from American, French, and German armies) that until only recently caused crippling and death on a scale unheard of anywhere else in the world.
Equally destructive, but more subtle were the social impacts of the genocide. How would people recover from the trauma caused by the things they saw and experienced? With most of the former government officials killed who would lead the country? How could Cambodia fix it's infrastructure without the experts necessary to perform large scale public projects? And without teachers who would educate the next generation of doctors, engineers and business owners?
These long term problems do not have quick or easy solutions. In fact, it will more than likely take several generations for Cambodia to recover from the events of the 1970's. But they are trying. They are survivors, and even after all they've been through they are not a bitter people. Cambodia may be a poor country, but there is one thing they seem to have an abundance of, and that is hope.

For anyone interested in learning more about American involvement in Cambodia, or the Khmer Rouge period of Cambodian history I recommend the following three books:
Sideshow: Kissinger, Kissinger, and the Destruction of Cambodia by William Shawcross
First They Killed My Father: A Daughter of Cambodia Remembers by Loung Ung
The Killing Fields by Christopher Hudson

Beng Mealea Temple, Cambodia

Today, Cambodia may be a small seemingly powerless country, but a millennium ago the ancestors of these soft-spoken people were the masters of South-East Asia. For seven hundred years their Empire stretched through the region encompassing modern day Cambodia, and Laos, as well as parts of Thailand and central Vietnam. In the years between 900-1200 AD the great Khmer (Cambodian) Empire constructed some of the most impressive temples in the region, many of which are concentrated in the area surrounding Siem Reap, Cambodia.

The temple of Beng Mealea was constructed in the early 12^th century during the height of the Khmer Empire. It is situated approximately 40km east of Angkor Wat, along a rough, and rusty dirt road. Until recently it was virtually unknown to tourists due to it's isolation, but today can be reached by car with relative ease.

The majority of this temple's once grand super-structure now lies in ruins. It's mighty walls are choked by a spider's web of trees and branches. Large sandstone blocks that used to form the ceilings have fallen into tall, mossy heaps on the jungle floor. Once the dominion of man this stone structure was abandoned long ago to be swallowed up by the jungle. Worn away by elemental forces more powerful and permanent than then the men who created it.

It's an unbelievably hot day. Through the thick canopy of the jungle I can feel the sun beat down against my neck. All around me the forest hums with the sounds of birds and insects. As I stop to wipe the sweat from my forehead and glasses, a small lizard scurries across my path. He pauses for a moment, incredibly still besides his bulbous throat which pulses like a tiny hyperactive heart. Springing to life again he bolts across the road, and disappears into the surrounding brush.

In some ways it's sad to see a huge, historical artifact like this in such a state of disrepair. In other ways it's quite liberating. The sense of mystery that surround citadels like this can often be dampened by reconstruction. Cleaned and cataloged by archaeological experts their secrets become fact and not fancy. The gaps in their stones filled by information, rather than imagination.

But here, besides the plank wooden platform that winds it's way throughout the site, this temple has been left mostly as it was rediscovered. Exploring it's grounds therefore elicits from the traveler, a unique sense of discovery. One can almost begin to imagine how French archaeologists must have felt when they stumbled across the remains of Angkor Wat in the 1800's.

Looking down to my left I notice a faded rock panel on the ground, carved to depict a mythical tug of war between men and demons. The “rope” in this battle is actually a seven headed snake, or naga as the Khmer call it, it's middle wrapped around a mountain which is surrounded by a Sea of Milk. According to the legend, man and demon pulled the naga back and forth for a thousand years, churning the Sea of Milk in an effort to create an elixir which would grant them everlasting life. This story is seen represented time and time again on the walls of many Angkorian temples. A Hindu myth, it is Indian in origin, brought over by explorers from the great sub-continent as they traveled eastward in pursuit of wealth and knowledge.

Though many of the carved panels here have faded, their meanings now indistinct, there is another larger story that is told by the building itself. The story of a once great people, who faltered, and fell. In 1431 the Kingdom of Angkor was sacked by Siamese (Thai) forces. Many of it's greatest treasures were stolen and carried away to the rival capitol of Ayutthaya. Spoils of war for the next great empire. Over the following hundred years these temples were abandoned, and eventually lost. The Khmer empire shrank and it's power and influence quickly disappeared.
Buildings like this are a harsh reminder of the transience of all powerful nations. Nations a combination of fate and circumstance can conspire to bolster or destroy. And though they stand in humble ruins, all it takes is a simple stroll within their walls to see that an element of their once great majesty still remains. Just as the strength and spirit of the people who built them still remains within the hearts and minds of the Cambodian people.