Cuba, Part 2

Enough of the details about licenses and currency (Part 1 of Cuba) - let's get to the adventure part. ;)

Day 1: NY to Habana

The flight is a flight. We arrive mid-afternoon and do the customs/ currency/ taxi to city stuff. Get checked into our casa particular. Boring stuff.

1st casa in havana had a sitting room, so when KK would sleep Dave and I could hang out - too bad KK didn't sleep

We're staying in Centro Habana, which is much poorer and dilapidated than I expected. Our street has piles of trash, stagnant water, skeletal dogs, ruins of buildings. There are few cars on the street, so people just walk in the middle of the road.

centro streetscape

Day 2: Habana Vieja

We spend most of the day in Habana Vieja, which is better restored and maintained than Centro. A cruise ship docks, and then it feels like Disneyland. Glad we're staying in Centro.

restored architecture

Low point of the day was food. We're starving by mid-day, but most of the options are the tourist traps, which just aren't our speed (and are probably government owned). Ended up at a cafe that had literally 2 choices: hamburger or ham sandwich. The hamburger was DISGUSTING.

On the bright side, KK discovers coconut ice milk and I discover ropa vieja (for dinner).

that's ok mom i'll just eat ice cream

Day 2: More Habana

Today got easier - my Spanish is coming back, we trolled the guidebooks and dropped a bunch of pins on Maps.Me to mark paladar/restaurant options, and it doesn't feel as stiflingly hot.

old buildings off the Malecon, the famous sea-side drive

Spend the morning playing in a little playground. I talk with the attendant for a long while about this and that, while KK plays with a little boy who was there with his grandparents because his mom was home with the new baby. (Some things are the same everywhere.)

wheee!

After dinner, Dave brings some frisbees to a local park and starts throwing with the young'uns. When it was time to leave, though, one of the older guys seems upset that there wasn't a frisbee for each of the group, saying that it would be unfair to give it to only one. Kind of an interesting and unexpected response.

universal language of frisbee

Day 3: Habana to Viñales

Hire a car and drive 2.5 hours to Viñales, a small town west of Havana, the center of outdoor activities in Cuba (as much as there is one).

random rural home

Get checked into our casa.

1st casa in vinales, where we stayed the longest

Pick a restaurant because it advertised 2 CUC mojitos. ;) We chat with the friendly restaurant host, Yande. He mentions he has a second job and Dave has to ask what it is before Yande says he's a hiking guide, and even then he doesn't offer to guide us. (Overall, the lack of hustlers (jinteros) in Viñales is striking.)

KK plays at the front of the restaurant with a random passerby who stops to talk to Yande. Soon she's handing out stickers and rolling a tennis ball back and forth while Dave and I enjoy our meal in peace.

don't ask how dirty she got...

Cuba is the most child-friendly country I've visited. Everywhere we went, Cubans were welcome and accommodating to children. There isn't a ton of kid-specific infrastructure in Cuba - they're considered people like any other person and do whatever the adults were doing. And it seems like all adults look out for the little ones. One time, KK tripped and fell, and some random middle-aged Cuban farmer got to her before I did. Musicians would hand her maracas and encourage her to play and dance while Dave and I sat nearby.

Day 4: Climbing!

Viñales has the best climbing in the Carribean, maybe the best in Latin America (right up there with Potrero Chico). We're climbing with a kid, and we're on vacation and have only shoes, buuuttt...

...we have a great time. Our guide, Fidel, picked a crag that was flat and shady at the base, so KK could play while Dave and I climbed. Incredibly, Fidel had a child-sized harness, so KK had her first roped climb on rock!

will climb for Clif Bars

Climbing is legal in Cuba, if you have a government guide, and there are no government guides. It's theoretically possible to import gear, if you go through the proper government channels, which don't actually exist.

Thus, in practice, the development and preservation of these incredible climbing areas rely on the dedication of local Cuban climbers on the ground and whatever donations they receive from abroad. In advance, we researched the best way to donate gear to make sure it goes to climbers and doesn't get used as farm equipment and packed a bag of gear collected from our Ithaca climbing community.

sharing is caring

Day 5: Cueva de la Vaca

Our casa hosts in Viñales are Marisol and Juan, a late middle-aged couple, and their daughter Yudi, who is about our age. Marisol is extremely talkative and friendly - too bad I can only understand every other word, and Dave understands her every 5th word! She always spends some time talking with/at us in her beautiful patio after breakfast, yelling for me to translate when Dave gets lost.

the 1st casa in vinales had a BEAUTIFUL patio/garden, with banana and coffee trees, tropical flowers, etc

After a lazy morning, we walk up to Cueva de la Vaca, an easily explored cave outside town.

cow cave. you walk by a lot of cows to get there.

Day 6: Beach! Cayo Jutías

Marisol hires a driver to take us to Cayo Jutías, a beach on the northern coast of Cuba. Eloha has a baby son, 8 months, but we don't talk much more than that - it's a rough trip. The car is a seatbelt-less Lada about my age that sounds like a lawnmower. Doesn't matter that the Lada doesn't go fast; the roads are SO BAD in places that we crawl along at lawnmower speed. Back windows don't roll down without the wrench Eloha keeps in the glove box, so we asphyxiate on fumes for the first part of the drive.

wheeee!

At one point, we pick up a hitchhiking police officer. Because why not?

...oh, ok.

The beach wasn't the most incredible beach I've visited, and it got really crowded as the minibuses and hired cars arrived, but coming from Upstate NY in March... it was heaven.

ahhhhhhh

Day 7: Cueva Larga

We meet up with a random climber who found us, looking for partners, while we were climbing with Fidel. We go to Cueva Larga, not really a cave as the top is open, more like a narrow chasm in the incredible cliffs all around Viñales.

cueva larga

I stay on kid duty most of the day, sneaking in 1 climb and otherwise pointing out all of amazing things in the cave, like snail shells and lizards.

hi :) 

The climbing is just so. good. here. I would definitely come back (after I visit all the other places on my bucket list, of course).

Day 8 - Los Acuáticos

Originally, we weren't sure if we would stay in Viñales so long, or perhaps move on to Trinidad, so we only booked 3 nights at Marisol's. She had vacancy 2 more nights, but for our last night in Viñales, we needed to move to her next door neighbor's house.

2nd casa in vinales

Our Cuban acquaintance, Yande, from the restaurant on our first night in Viñales guides us up to Los Acuáticos, an old colony built around hot springs. It's a super easy walk, we definitely don't need a guide, but it's nice to chat with a local who's our age (and had a daughter a few years older than KK).

checking out a very cool "undiscovered" (i.e. not in the guidebooks) cave

Unfortunately, on the way up, I got stung by wasps. Kind of scary - it took 3 Benadryl to keep the swelling under control, and even then, my mouth/nose broke out in hives. Might be time to get an Epipen...

serious ouch

Yande felt so bad about the sting, but it didn't spoil the day. Just made it a little sleepy and loopy (yay Benadryl!).

views of the mogotes - hills that look like they were formed by a preschooler with playdoh

Day 9: Viñales to Habana

It takes a while to convince Marisol that yes, we do want a vehicle with seat belts to drive us to Habana, even if that means getting a nicer car and getting it all to ourselves. It's true that it's astronomically expensive for a Cuban, but, having already made the journey once, I know that the highway is straight and empty, and the driver will go as fast as the vehicle will allow.

We say good bye to Marisol, Yudi, and Juan and Viñales in general. I hope I'll be back, someday.

adios to our host family

Uneventful drive to Havana deposits us at a casa in an old colonial house with a gorgeous interior courtyard and enormous room.

last night in havana (sounds like a movie title)

After dinner, on a whim, I ask Dave if we can walk past the synagogue (actually, "a" synagogue - there are 3 in Havana). I had read a little bit about the Jews of Cuba and was interested to see for myself. Turns out, it's the first night of Purim! Which I admit I forgot - I knew Purim was happening while we were away, but by the last night of the trip, I had completely lost track of the days.

So that's how we ended up in an Orthodox shul drinking clear rum straight from plastic cups while watching kids scamper after the spilled contents of a piñata.

because rum hangovers on travel days are GREAT

Day 10: Habana to NY

It was a travel day. Meh. No problems coming back through customs, except the aforementioned boot washing. Hey, we'll do our part to protect American agriculture!

entering Florida

We've been back a month; I've been working on these trip reports in 10 minute increments in the wee early hours of the morning, before the family gets up. So if the story seems dry and disjointed, well, at least it got written! My future self will appreciate it.

Saved the best for last - here's the photo album.

Cuba, Part 1

"Oh shoot. KK's preschool is closed for spring break 3 weeks from now. We should go somewhere..."

So we did: Cuba (because, why not?) (and also because we just couldn't get excited about waterfalls in Tennessee) (and also because, as Americans, Cuba has an irresistible appeal - so close, yet so far).

Buckle up (wait, you can't, there are no seatbelts in this '72 Lada) and grab a mojito (or go native and just drink the rum neat), 'cause this trip report is as long as the queue in a Cuban supermarket.

Part 1 of this trip report will dive deeper into the way things are in Cuba; part 2 is about where we went, what we did, and how it was for us. Read part 2 after part 1; it'll make more sense.

So here's how to get to Cuba and back, in 10 easy steps. 'Cause who doesn't like a good listicle.

Step 1: Buy Plane Tickets

Let's get one thing straight right off the bat: yes, it's legal to go to Cuba. Americans self-declare 1 of 12 categories of General Licenses. Like most visitors, ours was "Support for the Cuban People," which meant we had to keep up a full-time schedule of activities to provide economic support and connection directly to Cuban individuals. The trick is: staying at a casa particular, eating in a private paladar, or hiring an individual guide all count as supportive activities... not very different from how we usually travel!

A few carriers now offer direct flights to Cuba. No more flying to Mexico and then purchasing tickets to Cuba! Simply go to JetBlue's website, click the "Support for the Cuban People" radio button, enter your credit card information, and BOOM you've got tickets.

Step 2: Buy Health Insurance (Or Not)

If you're researching your own Cuba trip, you'll read about Cuba's health insurance requirement. This is to prevent visitors for taking advantage of Cuba's' communist (read: free) health care system. Every commercial flight ticket from the USA to Cuba includes a basic health insurance policy, but you can upgrade to a policy that covers injuries from adventure sports, or purchase supplemental non-USA-based insurance for higher repatriation coverage. After weighing the pros and cons, we stuck with the basic coverage. It was fine.

Step 3: Acquire Currency

Usually we'd bring a debit card and use ATMs. Because we have USA-based banks, our credit and debit cards don't work and will get locked if we try to swipe them. Changing dollars to Cuban pesos incurs an additional 10% penalty, so before we left, we ordered a fat stack of Euros.

Step 4: Pack Carefully

This was our first trip to a less developed country with a young child. Cuba has an outstanding medical system, BUT, no mother wants to take her kid to the hospital in the middle of the night because kiddo is spiking a fever and you forgot to pack the Tylenol (and pharmacy shelves are bare). In Cuba, toiletries like sunscreen can be incredibly hard to find and expensive ($20/bottle) once you do. And I definitely did not want to contract Zika, which meant serious mosquito protection.

So: take everything you might need, but no more. We each had a carry-on sized bag for our clothes and personal items (YASSS WE ARE SO CLOSE TO TRAVELING CARRY-ON ONLY), but we checked a duffle of gear (hiking backpack, large bottles of sunscreen and insect repellent, etc.).

Step 5: Book (Some) Accommodation

Technically optional, but it makes the arrival process easier. Cubans have been doing AirBnB (renting out at room or two of their house) before AirBnB was a thing. These rooms in these casas particulares are usually pretty basic: typically two beds, cinderblock walls, an ensuite bathroom (with or without toilet seat), fan or AC - perfect for us!

the standard sign outside every casa - blue anchor rents to foreigners, red anchor to Cubans

As we often do, we booked accommodation for the first part of the trip and left the last 1/3 open-ended. We ended up staying in Vinales, the 2nd town we visited, for the remainder of the trip, where it was very easy to find accommodation because we were there.

But that left our last night before flying home without a place to stay in Havana...

Step 6: Put Your Phone on Airplane Mode

Five years ago, we would have asked our casa hosts to help us find something and been stuck with whatever their cousin/friend had to offer. But now, Cuba has... the internet! Sort of. Cuba has had (government run) internet cafes since 2013 and (government run) public wifi hotspots since 2017. So just like in the USA, you'll see groups of young people staring at their screens in public places.

millenials on phones in parque cervantes in habana

Some homes and businesses are starting to get private internet connections. To book our last night of accommodation, we tried to use one at a cafe in Vinales that advertised Wifi. (AirBnB doesn't work in Cuba, but Booking.com does.) Let's just say that we had eaten and paid for our meals before we were even able to connect, much less find and book a place.

Internet at a public hotspot costs 5 CUC for 5 hours (1CUC = $1USD), so about $1/hour, more if you buy a wifi card from a hustler (jintero) instead of queuing up to buy one yourself.

Step 7: Dust off Your Economics & History Textbooks

Casas particulares cost between 15-25 CUC/ $15-25 per night. In a country where 80% of citizens work for the state, the average government wage is somewhere around the equivalent of $30/month, and the license to run a casa particular is only about $70/ month, the incentive to open a side hustle is obvious.

Plus, running a casa gives the owner access to the more powerful currency: CUCs. Cuba has two currencies: convertible pesos (abbreviated CUC, pronounced "kook") and the national peso (CUP, "coop"). 1 CUC = 24 CUP. CUCs can only be acquired by exchanging for foreign currency, never CUPs.

The dual-currency economy was established during the "Special Period," as the dire years after the fall of the Soviet Union are known, when Soviet sugar subsidies disappeared and the Cuban economy imploded. (Our climbing guide, who was a young child then, told us he went naked except for small shorts his mother sewed out of old tee-shirts.) Fidel Castro decided to legalize the American dollar to get more money into the economy - possession of dollars was previously punishable with prison - and the CUC was born.

a decaying building in centro habana. a building elsewhere in habana collapsed 2 days after we arrived, killing 1 person.
is this what communism looks like? or is this what a 70 year embargo from the world's largest economy looks like? 

However, these dual economies have exacerbated the divide between haves and have nots. I have to imagine this undermines the communist paradigm. Our casa hostess in Havana previously worked as a nurse, where she earned about 400 CUP/month ($16). Now she charges $28/night (CUP 686) for her casa. The choice is obvious.

la epoca, supermarket in centro habana: one type of each item and lots of empty shelf space

Step 8: Eat Rice, Beans, & Sandwiches

Casa owners can earn a little more by serving meals. Breakfast was 5 CUC/adult, and dinner is 10 CUC/adult. Breakfast usually includes coffee, tea, juice, eggs (maybe with ham or onions), bread and butter, maybe a crepe with guyabana jelly or small sandwich.

breakfast in the garden

Dinner was a choice of meat (chicken seems to be the most plentiful and common), one of more kinds of beans, one or more kinds of rice, a salad of cabbage, tomatoes, and cucumbers, some kind of fried plantain or malanga, with soft drinks and alcohol available for an extra cost.

my face looks funny because i had an unfortunate wasp sting... more on that in part 2

The hosts set up a nice table, serve the meal, and then usually putter nearby in case you need anything. They return at the end of the meal to clean up and chat, or attempt to chat (see Step 8: Speak Spanish below).

Cuban food is kind of bland, definitely not spicy - during the Special Period, spices were hard to come by. For Cubans, the diet is heavy on rice and beans, "purchased" with ration coupons. I imagine our hosts had to put in some decent time and effort to acquire the ingredients that go into our meals.

Street food in Cuba is heavily influenced by its behemoth neighbor to the north: lots of unfortunate, soggy "pizzas" (a circle of soft bread with a smear of ketchup-like substance and a sprinkle of cheese) and sandwiches (ham, cheese, or ham and cheese - tastier than the street pizza, because bocaditos in Cuba spend a few minutes in a panini press).

one of the nicer sandwich shops we found, in Vinales

The same 90s economy that created the CUC also created the paladar, a small restaurant run out of someone's home. Many of the paladars feel more like restaurants, and in the tourist-oriented sections of Habana and Vinales, there are more restaurants than paladars. Just like everywhere, paladar/ restaurant food ranges from barely edible to delicious.

Step 9: Speak Spanish

In my opinion, Cuban Spanish is NOT an easy dialect to pick up; it took me the entire week to begin to feel comfortable understanding it. To my ear, it's mildly hoarse and slurred; all S's are dropped and many D's as well. Imagine a hyperactive life-long chain smoker speaking with 3 cigars stuffed in their mouth and that should give you an idea.

the tobacco house where those cigars were rolled

Decent Spanish skills are a prerequisite for the way we did the trip. You can make it work if you book everything in advance, hire the occasional English-speaking guide, and pick out well-known restaurants (they're more likely to have an English-language menu), but I think you will miss a lot by being unable to interact with anyone. Dave knew more Spanish than our casa hosts knew of English, so I did a lot of translating on this trip.

this one is easy to understand, at least!

Step 10: Keep Your Mouth Shut When Re-Entering US Customs

On the way home, we did get stopped at customs. But that was our fault for being too honest: we truthfully declared that we had been on farms and around livestock. So we got a free sneaker washing! (The poor customs woman said that Dave's sneakers were nastier than mine; I wanted to tip her.)

USA-bound, flying over the coast of Florida

With the details out of the way, let's get to the fun stuff - what did we do and what was it like. Read Part 2 of Cuba.

Nicaragua Mia (The Gringa Learns Spanish)

I'm not in Granada to pray or to party—I came here to brush up on my Spanish language skills. On my first day here, I visited several of the language schools for foreigners. I'm glad I waited to enroll in a school until I arrived in Granada, because I ended up not liking very much the school I thought I would like best.

Nicaragua Mia school

My criteria were: must be able to start immediately and must be able to have classes for most of Semana Santa; must offer homestay (all schools do, so that was easy); must be owned and operated by Nicaraguans and not foreigners, as I want my school fees to go to locals; and must feel “right.” The headmistress at Nicaragua Mia gently corrected a few points of my grammar as we spoke, the only headmistress to do so, and I decided it was the school for me.

My goals for this week were 1) to brush up on my grammar and vocabulary in preparation for a month or three here in Central America and 2) to decide if this one-on-one tutoring format was a good learning style for me and thus whether I wanted to a few more weeks of Spanish school somewhere else.

Life Updates

Alright, let's jump right in and drop a few bombshells, shall we?

Davo and I are getting married!

At this point, no date, no plans, no problem.  Someone suggested that we get married on a mountain or hanging off a cliff, a la Lynn Hill.  Sorry, I can't put myself in the same league as Lynn-freaking-Hill.  Plus, my mother would kill me.

photo © bob d'antonio, 1989

This was decided almost a month ago, but I've been fairly inconsistent about writing here, which is going to have to change because...

...I just bought a one-way ticket to Managua, Nicaragua.  Leaving on Monday.  Three days from now.  Ok, well, I decided to go last week and bought the ticket on Saturday, which was a full 8 days before departure.  Good thing I already have a passport.



My current plan is to start in Nicaragua, where I'll work on my Spanish language skills at a school for foreigners in Estelí.  They're arranging a homestay for me, so starting Tuesday 4/3, I will not speak or hear English for the foreseeable future (way to throw myself into the deep end).  When it's time to leave Nicaragua, I'll go overland via Honduras, El Salvador, or both on my way to Guatemala.  Dave will meet me in mid-May for some outdoor adventuring in Guatemala and southern México.  Back to Ithaca, New York, together, in June, for the next chapter of our lives.

For the past three years, since leaving Peru in 2009, I have coped with the aching desire to go back to Latin America.  Through a combination of this-and-that, I ended up back in the States when I felt like I should have been south-of-the-border.  I finally have a chance to correct my course...

...because I have resigned from my job.  For the second and final time.  I've typed and erased sentences trying to explain the conclusions I've drawn, what I've experienced, where that puts me in life and my ability to serve my community, blah blah blah.  The bottom line:  I love the organization, I love my colleagues, but it's time to move on.  I'm ready...  onward and upward!

Three major life changes in the past three weeks.  Eh, so it goes.  :-)

Turkey, I Love You. Let Me Count The Ways...

Turkey was the first country that I was sorry to leave, the first place I can truly say that I see myself returning some day. I've thought about why I love Turkey so much compared to, say, Nepal. Though I can't come up one significant reason that puts this place above others in my mind, my heart is filled with dozens of small anecdotes, minor details ever so specific to Turkey that, together, have made an unforgettable experience.

blue mosque interior

Turkey, I love you. Let me count the ways...

• Amazing Architecture (not only the Aya Sofia and the Blue Mosque). An Alphabet I can read (first since Malaysia) helps, too. I think Ayran (a yogurt-based drink) single-handedly healed my stomach issues from Nepal.
• Bazaars, Baklava, the Blue Mosque, and the Bosphorus. Also, the long-distance Buses are fast, clean, secure, and comfortable. Don't forget Bubby and Boss!
• Cats: the fluffy, furry, fat cats that are everywhere in Istanbul. Couchsurfing in Turkey has given me some of the best experiences of my trip. And Cheese, lots of tasty tasty cheese! 
• Diyarbakır, city of my heart. Also Döner, Dave's tasty snack on-the-go for about $0.70. 
• Ethnic pride, specifically Kurdish of southeast Turkey, stands out in my mind. Turks care for the Environment: we saw no trash or graffiti in Pigeon Valley, and the Bosphorus has little to no trash floating in it. The Eggplant here is the best I've ever had (sorry Mummers). 
• Friendliness. Smiling Thais? Meh. Friendly Nepalis? Get real. The Turks are masters of friendliness. 
• Göreme. The very first tourist town that hasn't made me nauseous. Quite a compliment, Göreme. 
• History is everywhere. I got a new skin in the Hamam. Hygiene is so good that the unthinkable—someone touching my food with their bare hands—does not freak me out. Turkey was Hassle-free compared to the rest of Asia. Even the carpet sellers are laid-back and polite! And don't get me started on Hospitality. 
• Istanbul. For a city of 18 million, it's not that bad. 

me and my juice

• Jetties on the Bosphorus where men bring their fishing rods and I snap dozens of photos. I had my first cup of freshly-squeezed pomegranate Juice. 
• Kindness to animals. Unlike the Nepalis who throw rocks at dogs and seem to enjoy it, I noticed multiple acts of kindness toward stray animals.  There were three homeless dogs on a random corner, sleeping in a makeshift cardboard and trash bag shelter someone had made for them. A ripped-open clear plastic bag of leftover meat and pasta was at their side as they slumbered, protected from the drizzle. I can't tell you the number of times I saw burly Turkish men with stern moustaches stop in their tracks to scratch a street kitty under the chin. Our couchsurf host told us that stray dogs in Istanbul are routinely tagged and vaccinated as a public service. The Turks' kindness toward animals is apparent, as strays are uniformly clean, calm, and approachable. Some of the stray cats are even borderline overweight! 
• Lokum (turkish delight) is ok, not to my taste, but I understand why some love it. I prefer the Language, which is much easier than any South or Southeastern Asian language. 
• Mosques and Minarets—they're everywhere! And, of course, Mr. Turkish Bull. 
• Neckties on men serving tea and cakes on the buses. Seriously. Tea, cakes, and neckties. On buses. I rest my case. 
• Old people sipping çay in a courtyard. Olives sold by the kilo. 

pide

• Pomegranates, my favorite fruit. I ate a lot of Pide (turkish pizza), which is quick, cheap, vegetarian friendly, and delicious. Perfect street food! 
• Quiet, quaint villages. It's SO EASY to get off the beaten tourist trail here. Just go anywhere east of Göreme. 
• Rumi, the mystical Sufi poet, whose masterwork I hope to read at some point. 
• Sanlıurfa and it's lovely public and historic spaces. Just in time for winter, steaming cups of Salep (powdered orchid root drink) topped with cinnamon. 
• Tea! Tea! Tea! Anything and everything is an excuse for çay. And Textiles—if you're into fiber arts, carpets, wool, max out your credit card in Istanbul. 
• Üsküdar and Uçisar, two Unexpected places that feel Untouristy yet welcoming. 
• Vegetables. After eating only starch and fat for most of Southeast Asia, I hit Istanbul's fruit and veggie markets hard. It was awesome. 
• Wi-fi. Finally, and internet connection that is fast and reliable? Whoa! 
• X is the intersection between "west" and "east," "old" and "new." And it's true. Turkey brings it all together. 
• Yoğurt. Oh, so this is what yoghurt tastes like without additives, stabilisers, and flavor enhancers. America, yer doin' it wrong. 
• Zero moments when I questioned my decision to travel or what I was getting from/ giving to the experience. 

To be fair, there were moments when I wasn't feeling so keen on Turkey. Four out of five days in Istanbul brought nasty, cold, damp weather. I was hardly in the mood to wander around random neighborhoods, and there isn't much nature in the city. I regretted giving five whole days to wandering around Istanbul and wished I had spent a day or two in another city, perhaps Konya.

A few other less-than-perfect points:

• Overnight bus rides (though, admittedly, those have been my choice); 
• Getting lost (though someone has always offered to help us become un-lost); 
• Some people have been over-zealous in sharing/ pushing their Muslim faith; 
• Food and accomodation in touristy areas is expensive and poor value (i.e. you don't get much for the cost); 
• Google Voice doesn't work; 
• I wasn't able to download NPR podcasts. 

If I'm whining about missing NPR instead of missing clean drinking water, then I guess I don't have much to whine about.

Three cheers for Turkey!

Diyarbakir, My Heart (Or: How To Communicate Without a Shared Language)

We flew from Kathmandu to Sharjah in the United Arab Emirates.  The only thing I'll remember about the UAE is that drinking water is not freely available in the airport--guess that's what happens in the desert?  The flight from Sharjah to Istanbul didn't arrive until midnight, so in typical Davo and Nico style, we slept on the cold marble floor of Istanbul's Sabiha Gökçen Airport.  The following afternoon, we flew to Diyarbakir, a predominantly Kurdish city in southeastern Turkey.

Why Diyarbakir?  Why not.  ;-)

Ok, I'll stop being cheeky.  :-P  The well-worn grooves in the Asian backpacker tourist trail left me disillusioned with the potential for meaningful travel experiences.  I wanted to get a little farther off the beaten path.  Most tourists to Turkey stick to the western half of the country, but everything I've read highly recommends a visit to the eastern half.

Sold.

It was clear that we were the only foreigners on the flight to Diyarbakir.  Diyarbakir's airport terminal is smaller than Ithaca's.  All signs were in Turkish.  We said, "Otobüs" to some men in uniforms.  It worked!  The pointed us outside.  The bus driver knew only one English word:  "Yes."  Well, I guess it's time for adventure!

We were dropped off at some place near the old city.  I'm used to locals staring openly at me, and we sure drew some attention.  Within five minutes, a group of children had noticed our big backpacks and circled us like puppies wanting playtime.  A young woman shook Dave's hand vigorously and kissed my cheeks multiple times.  This was the pattern for the next few days:  someone talks to us loudly and slowly in Turkish, repeating the words again and again, as if that would help me magically understand (it's hilarious!!).

ercan, ugur, and another guy whose name i forget

Ten minutes later, three non-English speaking students befriended us and appointed themselves our unofficial tour guides for the evening.  Together, we toured the "mean streets" of Diyarbakir.  Diyarbakir had/has a bit of a bad reputation due to local activity by the PKK (Kurdistan Workers' Party), a terrorist organization according to the USA and the UN.  This is a poor city by Turkish standards, and my impression is that many Turks from the west find it backward, provincial, and conservative.  Young people frequently told me that they had 7 or 8 siblings.  A surprising number of men sit in teahouses in the middle of the day--unemployment is high.

We visited the city walls, the central bazar, and the Ulu Mosque, and we drank tea together.  The students identified themselves as Kurds, not Turks, and were very proud to teach us Kurdish words and to drink Kurdish tea.  Kurdish pride is everywhere and constant.  When the man selling me a bus ticket randomly indicated that Diyarbakir was Kurdish, not Turkish, I said "roj bash" ("hello" in Kurdish) to him, and I thought he would die of happiness on the spot.

woman wearing the white headscarf typical of diyarbakir

muhammed and sabra

As we were walking to our couchsurf host's apartment, a man stopped us to invite us to dinner at his home.  Muhammed, who is studying to be an imam (Islamic leader), lives with his mother and his sister.  We learned that his family is Zaza, which is related to but not the same as Kurdish.  His mother made an amazing vegetable dish of eggplant and tomato, served with bread and rice, with a drink of ayran (a watery yoghurt).  It was delicious!  When she saw Dave's bare feet, she insisted on giving him a pair of socks.  I liked her a lot, and I think she liked me, as well.

We spent this entire evening in the company of new friends who know maybe a dozen English words between them.  A shared language is not necessary for communication, nor is it necessary for a good time.  With the university students, we pantomimed our sentences like a three-hour game of charades.  Better entertainment than communication, but guaranteed to provide plenty of laughs!  At Muhammed's house, we used Google Translate to "talk" back-and-forth.  The translations aren't always perfect, but it's possible to talk about more than "I like ___" and "This is called ___ in my language."

on top of the city walls

The next day, we wandered around the old city again.  My journal lists twelve separate awesome interactions with Diyarbakir citizens, from someone who wanted to practice English with us to multiple invitations for tea.  The old itself has a medieval feel, a twisting maze of tiny streets flanked by ancient taupe buildings.  I had the best meal since New Zealand--some sort of cold eggplant dish with rice, fresh bread, and multiple salads.  Pomegranates, olives, and cheeses are sold on the street.  We climbed up onto the city walls and watched the sun set over the city.  There is nothing to interest tourists here, and that is precisely why I love Diyarbakir.

the courtyard of a centuries-old hotel,
back when europe was in the dark ages and the muslim world was the light of civilization

I couldn't take enough pictures to truly express our experiences, but here's a start: