Antıkabir

This is the name of the mausoleum of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, the subject of this post.  It means mausoleum, appropriately.  We went there on our second full day in Ankara, which is (unbelievably) almost two weeks ago, but I have to share the grandeur of this memorial.  Its scale is that of several Washington, D.C. monuments combined, which is appropriate since the significance of the man it remembers is, to the Turkish people, equal to that of several great American presidents.

The first segment of the complex is the Peace Park, a long avenue of beautiful flowers and trees leading from the entrance to the main plaza.  The name alludes to Atatürk's idealistic blanket policy statement, "Peace at home, peace in the world."  Stone mourners set the somber tone of the promenade, with three men of varying professions gazing from one side and three mostly identical women on the other.

The walkway is paved with uneven, widely spaced stones that require visitors to walk slowly and look at their feet, forcing a pseudo-mournful approach to the main plaza and the mausoleum itself.  Stone animal statues and flower beds of carnations and roses - both flowers are symbols of Turkey - line the walkway.

At the end of the Peace Park one reaches the main plaza, which looks out across Ankara and is the go-to Turkish gathering space for patriotic holidays and events. The dominant feature, of course, is the mausoleum itself.

The structure evoked the Lincoln Memorial to me, both in its form and by the inclusion of long excerpts of Atatürk's speeches on the walls.

This is one of at least six Buckingham Palace/Tomb of the Unknown Soldier type sentries, seemingly drawn from different/all branches of the Turkish armed forces due to their differing uniforms, that keep stoic watch over the final resting place of the singularly revered leader.

We had a special treat at the end of the day when one stationed at the exit formally left his post.

Core strength.

Unlike the Lincoln Memorial, or any other major American presidential memorial (to my knowledge), the Antıkabir is the actual, physical resting place of the man it remembers.  He lies beneath (or within?) a massive marble block, and the adorned ceiling above mimics an elaborate Turkish rug.

After this, there is a museum documenting the War of Independence as well as a couple WWI-ish battles that went Turkey's way.  The final stop is the gift shop, where you can buy hundreds of items featuring Atatürk's face, signature, and/or the Turkish flag.  I went with a tie with the face and the signature, and a lapel pin/tie tack with the flag and the face.  I regret nothing.

The most interesting man in the world  beloved Turkish leader: now in tie form!

After this, we were out the exit, which offers a beautiful view over the city with a Turkish flag made of flowers - in the geographical shape of Turkey - in the foreground.  

 Bonus activity: there are three Turkish flags visible. Can you find them all!?

     Our visit to this secularly sacred site was an excellent introduction to Turkish patriotism.  One could write, and many probably have written, volumes analyzing the nature of Turkish national pride.  It is paradoxical in that it has the very intentional, hang-flags-everywhere-and-exhibit-military-strength style typical of young nations (it reminds me of my visit to twenty-year-old Namibia), but is grounded in centuries of Ottoman grandeur and millennia of Turkic ethnic heritage.  

     There is an unspoken awareness of the historical alternatives to the existence of the Turkish state: that Anatolia, as went the rest of the Ottoman state at the end of WWI, was slated for being served up piecemeal to the Allied powers and arch-nemesis Greece. That the small piece left for the Turks would very likely have descended (we in the West and most Turks would call it descent) into religious statehood as did many or most of the formerly Ottoman nations.  The Turkish people love their nation for what it was - the heartland of one of the world's greatest empires - and because it very nearly was not, save for the courageous military and political leadership of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk.  This pride and love is evident from the grandest of civic structures to the simplest of homes.  Türkiye, ya!

Afiet olsun!

Forget the literal translation, because it's wicked enigmatic, apparently.  "Afiet olsun" is the Turkish equivalent of "bon apetit," and is said pretty much every time a food or beverage is served.  And that's what this entry is about: the eats (and drinks).

My "Turkish food" experience thus far is mostly limited to our three squares a day in the hotel, but it gives a glimpse into Turkish cuisine so we'll go over it anyway. It's a buffet style spread for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and it's quite tasty.  The food is often labeled in English and Turkish, which is great, but sometimes wires get crossed. For example:

"There has got to be a better way to say that."

Linguistic potholes aside, the spread is glorious.  At every meal, including breakfast, there are a variety of cheeses, olives, fresh melon and dates, and a whole bunch of couscous/potato/other salad type operations, all in addition to delicious, hot main dishes (not seen here).

Olives every day ol-ol-ol-olives every day.

Oh yeah also desserts.

Hope you like honey and pistachios.

Nothing much to say about this one, but here is a blurry photo of a Burger King delivery bike. These are common, and just a great idea.

Zoom zoom.

The liquid diet in Turkey warrants a couple separate paragraphs. First of all, there is çay, which is pronounced like "chai" but just means tea in general.  I'm told çay is served at restaurants and in homes all the time, much like ice water in the U.S., but I haven't had much chance to test that out yet.  On the few occasions I have, things have ended well and I've had tasty tea, always served in excellent little Charlie-Moe-hand-size glasses like so:

Hold me.

Great stuff. Onto booze. The Turkish national drink is Raki ("rah-kuh"), which is a very strong, anise-flavored liquor that is served mixed with chilled water.  It's 90 proof, so it'll get you into high gear, but unless you're of the strange variety of persons who actually enjoy the black licorice/jellybean flavor of anise, it's wicked nasty and is worth drinking only to: have the experience, be polite to someone offering it to you, or to simply get drunk.  I've had three servings so far for a couple of these reasons, but don't plan to make it part of my regular Turkish drinking experience.  Because I hate black jellybeans.

Hahaha, you have to drink me.

The most ubiquitous beer is Efes ("eh-fiss," the Turkish name for the city of Ephesus). There are a few varieties, but the most readily available ones are Pilsen and Dark.  The Pilsen tastes like a cross between Stella Artois and Coors Light, so whatever. You can drink it without thinking much about it. The dark is like a slightly watered down Negra Modela or the darker variety of Dos Equis, so it's a good switch-up when you're in the mood for such a thing.  Efes has definitely been a/the staple of our orientation social life, and the mostly depleted beer coolers of the grocer next to the hotel bear witness to the fact. 

Forget Grain Belt and Summit. We're your best friends now!

Given that I've taken all but two meals thus far in the hotel, that's about all I have to share on this front for now. Oh, except I'm still adjusting to the fact that "yogurt" is not a sweet, vaguely health-related snack food here as it is back home, but rather a versatile staple that can be sauce, soupy side dish, or even beverage (Ayran).  I have to suspend my consciousness when it is sauce/side dish, and haven't been bold enough yet to try ayran.  Even though it's like my name.  Eventually I will, and will surely share the experience at that time.

Up next, really this time: The visit to Atatürk's mausoleum, the Anatolian Civilizations museum, and the old city.  Very good stuff.  Til then, güle güle!  

Hoş Geldınız!

That's "welcome" to all you regular folks out there, and "velkommen" to you Decorah friends.  It has unbelievably been just three and half days since I left Decorah, but that time has seen several weeks' worth of airport waiting, plane sitting, language learning, and friend making. Today we added sightseeing to that list with a visit to the enormous mausoleum of Atatürk, the dearly beloved and legally sacrosanct founder of the modern Turkish Republic.  But that's for the next post. This one is about the 6,000 mile journey from Decorah to Ankara.

My family and I left Decorah at 3:30 AM, Sunday, September 4th.  We arrived at the Rochester, MN airport shortly before 5:00, and I proceeded to have the easiest international flight check-in of my life (probably speaking for the future here, too.)  No line.  About one minute of interaction.  And my bag for ten months weighed in at *exactly* 70 lbs, avoiding the jump from the $75 extra baggage fee for 50-70 lbs to the $200 fee for 71+ without an ounce to spare.  Score.

One last shot of the family before ten months apart. Or, "The smiliest we've ever been at 5 am."

After saying goodbye to the family, it was time to head through security and await the first of the four flights that would take me from our corner of the Upper Midwest to the capital city of Turkey.  The security procedure was also the easiest/nicest check I will ever go through for international travel, with a bushy mustached, cheery Minnesotan man cracking jokes as my bags and I passed through (no line again, of course) without a hitch.  After some confusion about the gate, which is odd for an airport with only four of them, I was on the plane and bound for adventure.

A quick note here about the first flight: our path from Rochester to Detroit took us over Wisconsin and crossed the southern edge of Lake Winnebago.  I had the good fortune to be seated on the left, north-facing side of the plane. Consequently, I was able to simultaneously see my grandfather's farm east of Appleton, my mother's hometown of Manitowoc, and the entire Lake Winnebago-to-Lake Michigan area inhabited by all my maternal relatives/ancestors for the last two centuries.  Very cool.

This is where half my genes come from (Lake Winnebago is under the wing by now).

The Detroit to New York flight was uneventful, so I'll skip ahead to the most exciting part of the first day: meeting the first of my fellow Fulbrighters at JFK Int'l Airport.  After an hour and a half or so of suspicious glances at every solo twenty-something in the area of our gate, two people (they soon turned out to be named Julia and Ramsay) finally introduced each other.  It was on, as they say.  I immediately got off the phone and joined them, and within a half hour or so there were ten to fifteen of us doing introductions.  The fun thing in all of this is that many of us already knew each other thanks to two months' Facebook communicating - there was very little hesitancy in jumping right into wisecracking camaraderie as we boarded the flight to Istanbul.

It was roughly ten hours from JFK to Istanbul: not horrific, but certainly long enough on Delta.  The staff was kind and the flight uneventful, but British Airways/KLM/Luftansa/Emirates/all the Asian carriers they are not.  But fun news for my sister Kari, a big Kate Hudson fan: one of the three in-flight movies (on a big screen because they didn't have seatback screens, losers) was "Something Borrowed." So that was nice.  Anyway, after several hours of talking to my Turkish twenty-something seat partner Barak, movie watching, failing to sleep, and dining on not-that-bad airline food, we got our first glimpse of Turkey.

Istanbul was Constantinople. This picture is actually from our flight out to Ankara, but, same view.

We had several hours in the Istanbul airport, my fourth of the trip, in which to go through immigration and customs (the latter consisted of walking through a giant doorway that said "proceed here if you have nothing to claim," so, that was hilariously easy and I should have smuggled in some whiskey), get our tickets for the domestic flight to Ankara, withdraw some Turkish Liras from the ATM, and meet even more new people.  It was during "meet even more new people" that the wave of travel fatigue and lack of sleep finally hit me, accelerated by the half liter glass of beer I had with new friend Anika while using the wireless of an airport restaurant.  After a little food and a couple cat naps I was back among the living, and remained there long enough to fly to Ankara, get our baggage (this was a small ordeal but ended well), share a taxi to the hotel, eat supper, and crawl into bed where I slept nine hours without waking.  Jet lag nothing.

Next up: our visit to Atatürk's mausoleum and the War of Independence Museum.  Til then, güle güle!